prompt:
Chapter: "_6 September._

"My dear Art,--

"My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit.
There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it; Mrs.
Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me
professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told
her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to
stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with
myself; so now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a
shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy's weak
condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with
difficulties, all of us, my poor old fellow; but, please God, we shall
come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you
do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for
news. In haste

Yours ever,

"JOHN SEWARD."

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_7 September._--The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at
Liverpool Street was:--

"Have you said anything to our young friend the lover of her?"

"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I
wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were coming, as Miss
Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him know if need be."

"Right, my friend," he said, "quite right! Better he not know as yet;
perhaps he shall never know. I pray so; but if it be needed, then he
shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. You deal
with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other; and inasmuch
as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God's madmen,
too--the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen what you do nor why
you do it; you tell them not what you think. So you shall keep knowledge
in its place, where it may rest--where it may gather its kind around it
and breed. You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here." He
touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself
the same way. "I have for myself thoughts at the present. Later I shall
unfold to you."

"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good; we may arrive at some
decision." He stopped and looked at me, and said:--

"My friend John, when the corn is grown, even before it has
ripened--while the milk of its mother-earth is in him, and the sunshine
has not yet begun to paint him with his gold, the husbandman he pull the
ear and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff,
and say to you: 'Look! he's good corn; he will make good crop when the
time comes.'" I did not see the application, and told him so. For reply
he reached over and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as
he used long ago to do at lectures, and said: "The good husbandman tell
you so then because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the
good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow; that is for
the children who play at husbandry, and not for those who take it as of
the work of their life. See you now, friend John? I have sown my corn,
and Nature has her work to do in making it sprout; if he sprout at all,
there's some promise; and I wait till the ear begins to swell." He broke
off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on, and very
gravely:--

"You were always a careful student, and your case-book was ever more
full than the rest. You were only student then; now you are master, and
I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember, my friend, that
knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker.
Even if you have not kept the good practise, let me tell you that this
case of our dear miss is one that may be--mind, I say _may be_--of such
interest to us and others that all the rest may not make him kick the
beam, as your peoples say. Take then good note of it. Nothing is too
small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises.
Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess. We
learn from failure, not from success!"

When I described Lucy's symptoms--the same as before, but infinitely
more marked--he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with him a
bag in which were many instruments and drugs, "the ghastly paraphernalia
of our beneficial trade," as he once called, in one of his lectures, the
equipment of a professor of the healing craft. When we were shown in,
Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but not nearly so much as I
expected to find her. Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained
that even death has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case
where any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from some
cause or other, the things not personal--even the terrible change in her
daughter to whom she is so attached--do not seem to reach her. It is
something like the way Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an
envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that
which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered
selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice
of egoism, for there may be deeper root for its causes than we have
knowledge of.

I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology, and laid down
a rule that she should not be present with Lucy or think of her illness
more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so readily that
I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life. Van Helsing and I were
shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I saw her yesterday, I
was horrified when I saw her to-day. She was ghastly, chalkily pale; the
red seemed to have gone even from her lips and gums, and the bones of
her face stood out prominently; her breathing was painful to see or
hear. Van Helsing's face grew set as marble, and his eyebrows converged
till they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay motionless, and did not
seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then
Van Helsing beckoned to me, and we went gently out of the room. The
instant we had closed the door he stepped quickly along the passage to
the next door, which was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and
closed the door. "My God!" he said; "this is dreadful. There is no time
to be lost. She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart's
action as it should be. There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is
it you or me?"

"I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me."

"Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared."

I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock at
the hall-door. When we reached the hall the maid had just opened the
door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying in
an eager whisper:--

"Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter, and
have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see for
myself. Is not that gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you,
sir, for coming." When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him he had
been angry at his interruption at such a time; but now, as he took in
his stalwart proportions and recognised the strong young manhood which
seemed to emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to
him gravely as he held out his hand:--

"Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear miss. She is
bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that." For he
suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You are to
help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is your
best help."

"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My
life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for
her." The Professor has a strongly humorous side, and I could from old
knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer:--

"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that--not the last!"

"What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open nostril
quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder. "Come!"
he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are better than
me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked bewildered, and the
Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way:--

"Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have
or die. My friend John and I have consulted; and we are about to perform
what we call transfusion of blood--to transfer from full veins of one to
the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he is
the more young and strong than me"--here Arthur took my hand and wrung
it hard in silence--"but, now you are here, you are more good than us,
old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not
so calm and our blood not so bright than yours!" Arthur turned to him
and said:--

"If you only knew how gladly I would die for her you would
understand----"

He stopped, with a sort of choke in his voice.

"Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be happy
that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent. You
shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go; and you
must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame; you know how it is with
her! There must be no shock; any knowledge of this would be one. Come!"

We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained outside.
Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not
asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke
to us; that was all. Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid
them on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic, and
coming over to the bed, said cheerily:--

"Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off, like a good
child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy. Yes." She had made
the effort with success.

It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked
the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began to
flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to manifest
its potency; and she fell into a deep sleep. When the Professor was
satisfied he called Arthur into the room, and bade him strip off his
coat. Then he added: "You may take that one little kiss whiles I bring
over the table. Friend John, help to me!" So neither of us looked whilst
he bent over her.

Van Helsing turning to me, said:

"He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not
defibrinate it."

Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed the
operation. As the transfusion went on something like life seemed to come
back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing pallor the joy
of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I began to grow
anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he
was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy's system must
have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her.
But the Professor's face was set, and he stood watch in hand and with
his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my own
heart beat. Presently he said in a soft voice: "Do not stir an instant.
It is enough. You attend him; I will look to her." When all was over I
could see how much Arthur was weakened. I dressed the wound and took his
arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning round--the
man seems to have eyes in the back of his head:--

"The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he shall have
presently." And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted the
pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow black velvet band
which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an old
diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little up,
and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not notice it, but I
could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing's
ways of betraying emotion. He said nothing at the moment, but turned to
me, saying: "Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port
wine, and let him lie down a while. He must then go home and rest, sleep
much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given to
his love. He must not stay here. Hold! a moment. I may take it, sir,
that you are anxious of result. Then bring it with you that in all ways
the operation is successful. You have saved her life this time, and you
can go home and rest easy in mind that all that can be is. I shall tell
her all when she is well; she shall love you none the less for what you
have done. Good-bye."

When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping gently,
but her breathing was stronger; I could see the counterpane move as her
breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently.
The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked the Professor in a
whisper:--

"What do you make of that mark on her throat?"

"What do you make of it?"

"I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there proceeded
to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two
punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no sign of
disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some
trituration. It at once occurred to me that this wound, or whatever it
was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood; but I abandoned
the idea as soon as formed, for such a thing could not be. The whole bed
would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must
have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion.

"Well?" said Van Helsing.

"Well," said I, "I can make nothing of it." The Professor stood up. "I
must go back to Amsterdam to-night," he said. "There are books and
things there which I want. You must remain here all the night, and you
must not let your sight pass from her."

"Shall I have a nurse?" I asked.

"We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night; see that
she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not sleep all
the night. Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be back as soon as
possible. And then we may begin."

"May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?"

"We shall see!" he answered, as he hurried out. He came back a moment
later and put his head inside the door and said with warning finger held
up:--

"Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm befall, you
shall not sleep easy hereafter!"

_Dr. Seward's Diary--continued._

_8 September._--I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself
off towards dusk, and she waked naturally; she looked a different being
from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good,
and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the
absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs. Westenra
that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit up with her she
almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her daughter's renewed
strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, however, and made
preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the
night I came in, having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by
the bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me
gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed
sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together
and shook it off. This was repeated several times, with greater effort
and with shorter pauses as the time moved on. It was apparent that she
did not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once:--

"You do not want to go to sleep?"

"No; I am afraid."

"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for."

"Ah, not if you were like me--if sleep was to you a presage of horror!"

"A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?"

"I don't know; oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible. All
this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I dread the very thought."

"But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here watching you, and
I can promise that nothing will happen."

"Ah, I can trust you!" I seized the opportunity, and said: "I promise
you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once."

"You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will
sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and sank
back, asleep.

All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on and on
in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips were
slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a
pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad
dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind.

In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took
myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a short
wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent result
of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears, took me all
day to clear off; it was dark when I was able to inquire about my
zooephagous patient. The report was good; he had been quite quiet for the
past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst
I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham to-night, as
it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the
night mail and would join me early in the morning.

       *       *       *       *       *

_9 September_.--I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to
Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my
brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral
exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook hands
with me she looked sharply in my face and said:--

"No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am quite well
again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who
will sit up with you." I would not argue the point, but went and had my
supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I
made an excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than
excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next
her own, where a cozy fire was burning. "Now," she said, "you must stay
here. I shall leave this door open and my door too. You can lie on the
sofa for I know that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to
bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything I
shall call out, and you can come to me at once." I could not but
acquiesce, for I was "dog-tired," and could not have sat up had I tried.
So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she should want anything,
I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about everything.

_Lucy Westenra's Diary._

_9 September._--I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably weak,
that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after
a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very,
very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose
it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner
eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength give Love
rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know
where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew! My dear, my dear, your ears
must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of
last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward watching me.
And to-night I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and
within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me! Thank God!
Good-night, Arthur.

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_10 September._--I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my head, and
started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we learn
in an asylum, at any rate.

"And how is our patient?"

"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I answered.

"Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the room.

The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van
Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed.

As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flooded the room, I
heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its rarity, a
deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, and
his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!" needed no enforcement from
his agonised face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his
iron face was drawn and ashen white. I felt my knees begin to tremble.

There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly
white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums
seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a
corpse after a prolonged illness. Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp
in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit
stood to him, and he put it down again softly. "Quick!" he said. "Bring
the brandy." I flew to the dining-room, and returned with the decanter.
He wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and
wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonising
suspense said:--

"It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is
undone; we must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now; I have
to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he spoke, he was
dipping into his bag and producing the instruments for transfusion; I
had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no
possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one; and so,
without a moment's delay, we began the operation. After a time--it did
not seem a short time either, for the draining away of one's blood, no
matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible feeling--Van Helsing
held up a warning finger. "Do not stir," he said, "but I fear that with
growing strength she may wake; and that would make danger, oh, so much
danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection
of morphia." He proceeded then, swiftly and deftly, to carry out his
intent. The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge
subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride
that I could see a faint tinge of colour steal back into the pallid
cheeks and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to
feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves.

The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said. "Already?"
I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To which he
smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied:--

"He is her lover, her _fiance_. You have work, much work, to do for her
and for others; and the present will suffice."

When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied
digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down, whilst I waited his
leisure to attend to me, for I felt faint and a little sick. By-and-by
he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for
myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me, and half
whispered:--

"Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should turn up
unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once frighten him and
enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!"

When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said:--

"You are not much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and
rest awhile; then have much breakfast, and come here to me."

I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I
had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I
felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at
what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over
and over again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how
she could have been drained of so much blood with no sign anywhere to
show for it. I think I must have continued my wonder in my dreams, for,
sleeping and waking, my thoughts always came back to the little
punctures in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their
edges--tiny though they were.

Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly well and
strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van Helsing
had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge, with strict
injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his
voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office.

Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that anything
had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When her mother
came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever, but
said to me gratefully:--

"We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you really
must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale
yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit; that you
do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only momentarily,
for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long such an unwonted
drain to the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as she turned
imploring eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my finger on my
lips; with a sigh, she sank back amid her pillows.

Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and presently said to me:
"Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong. I
stay here to-night, and I shall sit up with little miss myself. You and
I must watch the case, and we must have none other to know. I have grave
reasons. No, do not ask them; think what you will. Do not fear to think
even the most not-probable. Good-night."

In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either of
them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let them; and
when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or I should sit
up, they asked me quite piteously to intercede with the "foreign
gentleman." I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is because
I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on Lucy's account, that
their devotion was manifested; for over and over again have I seen
similar instances of woman's kindness. I got back here in time for a
late dinner; went my rounds--all well; and set this down whilst waiting
for sleep. It is coming.

       *       *       *       *       *

_11 September._--This afternoon I went over to Hillingham. Found Van
Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I had
arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He opened it
with much impressment--assumed, of course--and showed a great bundle of
white flowers.

"These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said.

"For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!"

"Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines." Here
Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to take in a decoction or
in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming nose, or I shall
point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have to endure in seeing
so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. Aha, my pretty miss,
that bring the so nice nose all straight again. This is medicinal, but
you do not know how. I put him in your window, I make pretty wreath, and
hang him round your neck, so that you sleep well. Oh yes! they, like the
lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like the waters
of Lethe, and of that fountain of youth that the Conquistadores sought
for in the Floridas, and find him all too late."

Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling
them. Now she threw them down, saying, with half-laughter, and
half-disgust:--

"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why,
these flowers are only common garlic."

To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, his
iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:--

"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do;
and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of
others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might
well be, he went on more gently: "Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear
me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so
common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the
wreath that you are to wear. But hush! no telling to others that make so
inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience;
and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait
for you. Now sit still awhile. Come with me, friend John, and you shall
help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the way from Haarlem,
where my friend Vanderpool raise herb in his glass-houses all the year.
I had to telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been here."

We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor's
actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopoeia
that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched them
securely; next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over
the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get
in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp he rubbed
all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round
the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and
presently I said:--

"Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but
this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no sceptic here, or he
would say that you were working some spell to keep out an evil spirit."

"Perhaps I am!" he answered quietly as he began to make the wreath which
Lucy was to wear round her neck.

We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she
was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her
neck. The last words he said to her were:--

"Take care you do not disturb it; and even if the room feel close, do
not to-night open the window or the door."

"I promise," said Lucy, "and thank you both a thousand times for all
your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such
friends?"

As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing said:--

"To-night I can sleep in peace, and sleep I want--two nights of travel,
much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to follow,
and a night to sit up, without to wink. To-morrow in the morning early
you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss, so much
more strong for my 'spell' which I have work. Ho! ho!"

He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights
before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must
have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but
I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: This chapter starts with a letter, dated September 6, to Arthur Holmwood from Dr. Seward. It tells about Lucys downward slide in health. Abraham Van Helsing has returned to see her. Dr. Seward records in his diary that how he recounts Lucys symptoms to the Professor. The Professor looks grave. He sees her and is appalled to see Lucy almost bloodless. Arthur rushes in, worried after receiving the telegram. Van Helsing takes blood for him and transfuses it to Lucy. He allows Arthur to kiss her and then let her rest. Lucy is much better. The Professor sees the pinpoint marks on Lucys throat and asks about them. He then abruptly says he has to leave for Amsterdam. He tells Dr. Seward to keep watch on her himself. On September 8, Lucy seems much better. The Professor sends Dr. Seward a telegram to be at Hellingham. Lucy Westenra records in her diary about the feeling of being looked after and secured. Dr. Sewards continues to write his diary. He is dosing off when Van Helsing enters and demands to see Lucy. They rush up and see her almost bloodless again. Van Helsing rushes to transfuse blood from Dr. Seward to Lucy. Lucy gets better. On September 11, Van Helsing makes Lucy wear a garland of garlic. He fastens her windows and rubs garlic on her sashes. They all retire for bed.


prompt:
Chapter: _12 September._--How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear Dr.
Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers. He
positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have been
right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread
being alone to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not
mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible struggle that I
have had against sleep so often of late; the pain of the sleeplessness,
or the pain of the fear of sleep, with such unknown horrors as it has
for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears, no
dreads; to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings
nothing but sweet dreams. Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep,
and lying like Ophelia in the play, with "virgin crants and maiden
strewments." I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful!
There is peace in its smell; I feel sleep coming already. Good-night,
everybody.

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_13 September._--Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual,
up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The
Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now.

Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham at
eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning; the bright sunshine and all the
fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the completion of nature's
annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours,
but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we met
Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She is always an early
riser. She greeted us warmly and said:--

"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is still
asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in, lest I
should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He
rubbed his hands together, and said:--

"Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the case. My treatment is working," to
which she answered:--

"You must not take all the credit to yourself, doctor. Lucy's state this
morning is due in part to me."

"How you do mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.

"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into
her room. She was sleeping soundly--so soundly that even my coming did
not wake her. But the room was awfully stuffy. There were a lot of those
horrible, strong-smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually
a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odour would be
too much for the dear child in her weak state, so I took them all away
and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air. You will be
pleased with her, I am sure."

She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfasted early. As
she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn ashen
grey. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the poor lady
was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be;
he actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to pass into
her room. But the instant she had disappeared he pulled me, suddenly and
forcibly, into the dining-room and closed the door.

Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. He
raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and then beat
his palms together in a helpless way; finally he sat down on a chair,
and putting his hands before his face, began to sob, with loud, dry sobs
that seemed to come from the very racking of his heart. Then he raised
his arms again, as though appealing to the whole universe. "God! God!
God!" he said. "What have we done, what has this poor thing done, that
we are so sore beset? Is there fate amongst us still, sent down from the
pagan world of old, that such things must be, and in such way? This poor
mother, all unknowing, and all for the best as she think, does such
thing as lose her daughter body and soul; and we must not tell her, we
must not even warn her, or she die, and then both die. Oh, how we are
beset! How are all the powers of the devils against us!" Suddenly he
jumped to his feet. "Come," he said, "come, we must see and act. Devils
or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not; we fight him
all the same." He went to the hall-door for his bag; and together we
went up to Lucy's room.

Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the bed.
This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with the same
awful, waxen pallor as before. He wore a look of stern sadness and
infinite pity.

"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspiration of his which
meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and then
began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet another
operation of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognised the
necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a
warning hand. "No!" he said. "To-day you must operate. I shall provide.
You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat and rolled
up his shirt-sleeve.

Again the operation; again the narcotic; again some return of colour to
the ashy cheeks, and the regular breathing of healthy sleep. This time I
watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested.

Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra that she must
not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting him; that the
flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their odour
was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care of the case
himself, saying that he would watch this night and the next and would
send me word when to come.

After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and
seemingly not much the worse for her terrible ordeal.

What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of life
amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain.

_Lucy Westenra's Diary._

_17 September._--Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong
again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some
long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and
feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim
half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness
in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress
more poignant: and then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to
life as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since,
however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems
to have passed away; the noises that used to frighten me out of my
wits--the flapping against the windows, the distant voices which seemed
so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and
commanded me to do I know not what--have all ceased. I go to bed now
without any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown
quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from
Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a
day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched; I am well enough to be left
alone. Thank God for mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our
friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for
last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found
him asleep twice when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again,
although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against
the window-panes.

_"The Pall Mall Gazette," 18 September._

                           THE ESCAPED WOLF.

         PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER.

         _Interview with the Keeper in the Zooelogical Gardens._

After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using
the words "Pall Mall Gazette" as a sort of talisman, I managed to find
the keeper of the section of the Zooelogical Gardens in which the wolf
department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in
the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to
his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk,
elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their
hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty
comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called "business"
until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the
table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:--

"Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me
refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the
wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore
I begins to arsk them questions."

"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him
into a talkative humour.

"'Ittin' of them over the 'ead with a pole is one way; scratchin' of
their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf
to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust--the 'ittin' with a pole
afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they've 'ad their
sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the
ear-scratchin'. Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a deal of
the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you a-comin' and
arskin' of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that
only for your bloomin' 'arf-quid I'd 'a' seen you blowed fust 'fore I'd
answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I'd like you to
arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence
did I tell yer to go to 'ell?"

"You did."

"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' of obscene language that
was 'ittin' me over the 'ead; but the 'arf-quid made that all right. I
weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my 'owl
as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor' love yer 'art, now
that the old 'ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an' rinsed
me out with her bloomin' old teapot, and I've lit hup, you may scratch
my ears for all you're worth, and won't git even a growl out of me.
Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin' at, that 'ere
escaped wolf."

"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it
happened; and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you
consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will
end."

"All right, guv'nor. This 'ere is about the 'ole story. That 'ere wolf
what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from
Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a
nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more
surprised at 'im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the
place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women."

"Don't you mind him, sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. "'E's
got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he ain't like a old wolf
'isself! But there ain't no 'arm in 'im."

"Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yesterday when I first
hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the monkey-house for a
young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin' and 'owlin' I kem
away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like a mad thing at the
bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about that
day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a 'ook
nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin' through it. He
had a 'ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him,
for it seemed as if it was 'im as they was hirritated at. He 'ad white
kid gloves on 'is 'ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says:
'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

"'Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he give
'isself. He didn't git angry, as I 'oped he would, but he smiled a kind
of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they
wouldn't like me,' 'e says.

"'Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin' of him. 'They always likes a
bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you 'as a
bagful.'

"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin' they
lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears
same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn't put
in his hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

"'Tyke care,' says I. 'Bersicker is quick.'

"'Never mind,' he says. 'I'm used to 'em!'

"'Are you in the business yourself?' I says, tyking off my 'at, for a
man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers.

"'No' says he, 'not exactly in the business, but I 'ave made pets of
several.' And with that he lifts his 'at as perlite as a lord, and walks
away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter 'im till 'e was out of sight,
and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn't come hout the 'ole
hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves
here all began a-'owling. There warn't nothing for them to 'owl at.
There warn't no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin' a
dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice
I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the 'owling
stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look round afore
turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker's
cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And
that's all I know for certing."

"Did any one else see anything?"

"One of our gard'ners was a-comin' 'ome about that time from a 'armony,
when he sees a big grey dog comin' out through the garding 'edges. At
least, so he says, but I don't give much for it myself, for if he did 'e
never said a word about it to his missis when 'e got 'ome, and it was
only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all
night-a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein'
anything. My own belief was that the 'armony 'ad got into his 'ead."

"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the
wolf?"

"Well, sir," he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think I can;
but I don't know as 'ow you'd be satisfied with the theory."

"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from
experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?"

"Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that 'ere
wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out."

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I
could see that it had done service before, and that the whole
explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in badinage
with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart,
so I said:--

"Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off,
and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've told me
what you think will happen."

"Right y'are, sir," he said briskly. "Ye'll excoose me, I know, for
a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much
as telling me to go on."

"Well, I never!" said the old lady.

"My opinion is this: that 'ere wolf is a-'idin' of, somewheres. The
gard'ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward faster
than a horse could go; but I don't believe him, for, yer see, sir,
wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that
way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets
in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared than they is
they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But,
Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so
clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in
'im. This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for
hisself, and more like he's somewhere round the Park a-'idin' an'
a-shiverin' of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get
his breakfast from; or maybe he's got down some area and is in a
coal-cellar. My eye, won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his
green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's
bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's
shop in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin' orf with
a soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator--well, then I
shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That's
all."

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up
against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length
with surprise.

"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back by
'isself!"

He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it
seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so
well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a
personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor
his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal
itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all
picture-wolves--Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her
confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The
wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the
children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of
penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine
prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender
solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:--

"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble;
didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and full of broken
glass. 'E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall or other. It's a
shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles.
This 'ere's what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker."

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that
satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the
fatted calf, and went off to report.

I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given
to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_17 September._--I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my
books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy,
had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in
rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was
thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord
into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown. Without an instant's
pause he made straight at me. He had a dinner-knife in his hand, and,
as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. He was
too quick and too strong for me, however; for before I could get my
balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely.
Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right and he was
sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a
little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not
intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist,
keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the
attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment
positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor licking
up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was
easily secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite
placidly, simply repeating over and over again: "The blood is the life!
The blood is the life!"

I cannot afford to lose blood just at present; I have lost too much of
late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy's
illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over-excited and
weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned
me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I could not well do without
it.

_Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax._

(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given; delivered late by
twenty-two hours.)

"_17 September._--Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night. If not
watching all the time frequently, visit and see that flowers are as
placed; very important; do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as
possible after arrival."

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_18 September._--Just off for train to London. The arrival of Van
Helsing's telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I know
by bitter experience what may happen in a night. Of course it is
possible that all may be well, but what _may_ have happened? Surely
there is some horrible doom hanging over us that every possible accident
should thwart us in all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with
me, and then I can complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.

_Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra._

_17 September. Night._--I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no
one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact
record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and
have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the
doing.

I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr.
Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.

I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that
sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I
know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in
the next room--as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be--so that I might have
called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not. Then there came to me
the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep
would try to come then when I did not want it; so, as I feared to be
alone, I opened my door and called out: "Is there anybody there?" There
was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again.
Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but
more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could
see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its
wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined
not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in;
seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She
said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont:--

"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all
right."

I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in
and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me; she did
not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while
and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in
hers, the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was
startled and a little frightened, and cried out: "What is that?" I tried
to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet; but I could
hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was
the low howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a
crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor.
The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the
aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey
wolf. Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting
posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst
other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing
insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me. For a
second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange
and horrible gurgling in her throat; then she fell over--as if struck
with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a
moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my
eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole
myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken
window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that
travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to
stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother's poor body,
which seemed to grow cold already--for her dear heart had ceased to
beat--weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered
consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the
dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery,
seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and
stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the
nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort
me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear
their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to them, and they
came in, and when they saw what had happened, and what it was that lay
over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the
broken window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my
dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I
had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them
to go to the dining-room and have each a glass of wine. The door flew
open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went
in a body to the dining-room; and I laid what flowers I had on my dear
mother's breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing
had told me, but I didn't like to remove them, and, besides, I would
have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that
the maids did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went
to the dining-room to look for them.

My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless
on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table
half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious,
and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the
sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother's doctor uses for
her--oh! did use--was empty. What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back
in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for
the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I
dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the
broken window.

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from
the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God
shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast,
where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother
gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not
survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Lucy records in her journal that she feels she can sleep better. Dr. Seward diary records how Mrs. Westenra tells the professor that Lucy is bitter but because she has opened the windows and removed the garlic. Professor rushes up, Lucy looks bloodless again. He gives her blood. He also tells Mrs. Westenra not to remove anything for Lucys room. Lucys journal continue on how she can hear bats flapping on her windowpane. In the meantime, a wolf has escaped from the zoo. After a tiresome escape, he has returned to the zoo. Dr. Sewards journal continues to note on how Renfield attacks him with a knife. Dr. Seward is hurt and bleeds. The blood drips on the floor and Renfield drinks on it crying, "The blood is the life!" A strange flapping on her window awakens Lucy. Her mother comes to the room and sees her. Suddenly, they see through the aperture a great gaunt wolf. Mrs. Westenra, in a shock, grabs and tears Lucys garland of garlics and collapses. She is dead and Lucy too faints. When she comes through, she sees the maids putting Mrs. Westenras body on the bed. Suddenly, they shrike and rush out. Lucy is left alone and terrified, she prays for gods help.


prompt:
Chapter: _18 September._--I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived early.
Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked gently
and rang as quietly as possible, for I feared to disturb Lucy or her
mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. After a while,
finding no response, I knocked and rang again; still no answer. I cursed
the laziness of the servants that they should lie abed at such an
hour--for it was now ten o'clock--and so rang and knocked again, but
more impatiently, but still without response. Hitherto I had blamed only
the servants, but now a terrible fear began to assail me. Was this
desolation but another link in the chain of doom which seemed drawing
tight around us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I had come, too
late? I knew that minutes, even seconds of delay, might mean hours of
danger to Lucy, if she had had again one of those frightful relapses;
and I went round the house to try if I could find by chance an entry
anywhere.

I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door was fastened and
locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I did so, I heard the
rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse's feet. They stopped at the
gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing running up the avenue.
When he saw me, he gasped out:--

"Then it was you, and just arrived. How is she? Are we too late? Did you
not get my telegram?"

I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only got his
telegram early in the morning, and had not lost a minute in coming here,
and that I could not make any one in the house hear me. He paused and
raised his hat as he said solemnly:--

"Then I fear we are too late. God's will be done!" With his usual
recuperative energy, he went on: "Come. If there be no way open to get
in, we must make one. Time is all in all to us now."

We went round to the back of the house, where there was a kitchen
window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his case, and
handing it to me, pointed to the iron bars which guarded the window. I
attacked them at once and had very soon cut through three of them. Then
with a long, thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the sashes and
opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and followed him. There
was no one in the kitchen or in the servants' rooms, which were close at
hand. We tried all the rooms as we went along, and in the dining-room,
dimly lit by rays of light through the shutters, found four
servant-women lying on the floor. There was no need to think them dead,
for their stertorous breathing and the acrid smell of laudanum in the
room left no doubt as to their condition. Van Helsing and I looked at
each other, and as we moved away he said: "We can attend to them later."
Then we ascended to Lucy's room. For an instant or two we paused at the
door to listen, but there was no sound that we could hear. With white
faces and trembling hands, we opened the door gently, and entered the
room.

How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy and her
mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered with a white
sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the draught through the
broken window, showing the drawn, white face, with a look of terror
fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white and still more
drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we found upon her
mother's bosom, and her throat was bare, showing the two little wounds
which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled.
Without a word the Professor bent over the bed, his head almost touching
poor Lucy's breast; then he gave a quick turn of his head, as of one who
listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to me:--

"It is not yet too late! Quick! quick! Bring the brandy!"

I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste
it, lest it, too, were drugged like the decanter of sherry which I found
on the table. The maids were still breathing, but more restlessly, and I
fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I did not stay to make sure,
but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed the brandy, as on another
occasion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists and the palms of her
hands. He said to me:--

"I can do this, all that can be at the present. You go wake those maids.
Flick them in the face with a wet towel, and flick them hard. Make them
get heat and fire and a warm bath. This poor soul is nearly as cold as
that beside her. She will need be heated before we can do anything
more."

I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of the
women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had evidently
affected her more strongly, so I lifted her on the sofa and let her
sleep. The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to
them they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with
them, however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one life
was bad enough to lose, and that if they delayed they would sacrifice
Miss Lucy. So, sobbing and crying, they went about their way, half clad
as they were, and prepared fire and water. Fortunately, the kitchen and
boiler fires were still alive, and there was no lack of hot water. We
got a bath and carried Lucy out as she was and placed her in it. Whilst
we were busy chafing her limbs there was a knock at the hall door. One
of the maids ran off, hurried on some more clothes, and opened it. Then
she returned and whispered to us that there was a gentleman who had come
with a message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he
must wait, for we could see no one now. She went away with the message,
and, engrossed with our work, I clean forgot all about him.

I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly
earnest. I knew--as he knew--that it was a stand-up fight with death,
and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I did not
understand, but with the sternest look that his face could wear:--

"If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade
away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon." He went
on with his work with, if possible, renewed and more frenzied vigour.

Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to
be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trifle more audibly to the
stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing's
face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her in
a hot sheet to dry her he said to me:--

"The first gain is ours! Check to the King!"

We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared, and laid
her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her throat. I noticed
that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat. She was
still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had
ever seen her.

Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with her
and not to take her eyes off her till we returned, and then beckoned me
out of the room.

"We must consult as to what is to be done," he said as we descended the
stairs. In the hall he opened the dining-room door, and we passed in, he
closing the door carefully behind him. The shutters had been opened, but
the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of
death which the British woman of the lower classes always rigidly
observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It was, however, light
enough for our purposes. Van Helsing's sternness was somewhat relieved
by a look of perplexity. He was evidently torturing his mind about
something, so I waited for an instant, and he spoke:--

"What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have
another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl's life
won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted already; I am
exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have
courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his
veins for her?"

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"

The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought
relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincey Morris. Van
Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face softened and a
glad look came into his eyes as I cried out: "Quincey Morris!" and
rushed towards him with outstretched hands.

"What brought you here?" I cried as our hands met.

"I guess Art is the cause."

He handed me a telegram:--

"Have not heard from Seward for three days, and am terribly anxious.
Cannot leave. Father still in same condition. Send me word how Lucy is.
Do not delay.--HOLMWOOD."

"I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only to tell
me what to do."

Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him straight in
the eyes as he said:--

"A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in
trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well, the devil may work against
us for all he's worth, but God sends us men when we want them."

Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the heart
to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock and it
told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went into her
veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other
occasions. Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see
and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs improved, and Van
Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and with
good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor watched
whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of the maids
to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting. I left Quincey lying down
after having a glass of wine, and told the cook to get ready a good
breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I went back to the room where
Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I found Van Helsing with a sheet or
two of note-paper in his hand. He had evidently read it, and was
thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow. There was a look
of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one who has had a doubt solved.
He handed me the paper saying only: "It dropped from Lucy's breast when
we carried her to the bath."

When I had read it, I stood looking at the Professor, and after a pause
asked him: "In God's name, what does it all mean? Was she, or is she,
mad; or what sort of horrible danger is it?" I was so bewildered that I
did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took the
paper, saying:--

"Do not trouble about it now. Forget it for the present. You shall know
and understand it all in good time; but it will be later. And now what
is it that you came to me to say?" This brought me back to fact, and I
was all myself again.

"I came to speak about the certificate of death. If we do not act
properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would have
to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for if we
had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I know, and you
know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra
had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of it. Let us
fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself to the
registrar and go on to the undertaker."

"Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she be
sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends that
love her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides one old
man. Ah yes, I know, friend John; I am not blind! I love you all the
more for it! Now go."

In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling him
that Mrs. Westenra was dead; that Lucy also had been ill, but was now
going on better; and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I told him
where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said:--

"When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to
ourselves?" I nodded in reply and went out. I found no difficulty about
the registration, and arranged with the local undertaker to come up in
the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements.

When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see him
as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was still
sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his seat at her
side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I gathered that he
expected her to wake before long and was afraid of forestalling nature.
So I went down to Quincey and took him into the breakfast-room, where
the blinds were not drawn down, and which was a little more cheerful, or
rather less cheerless, than the other rooms. When we were alone, he said
to me:--

"Jack Seward, I don't want to shove myself in anywhere where I've no
right to be; but this is no ordinary case. You know I loved that girl
and wanted to marry her; but, although that's all past and gone, I can't
help feeling anxious about her all the same. What is it that's wrong
with her? The Dutchman--and a fine old fellow he is; I can see
that--said, that time you two came into the room, that you must have
_another_ transfusion of blood, and that both you and he were exhausted.
Now I know well that you medical men speak _in camera_, and that a man
must not expect to know what they consult about in private. But this is
no common matter, and, whatever it is, I have done my part. Is not that
so?"

"That's so," I said, and he went on:--

"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done already what I did
to-day. Is not that so?"

"That's so."

"And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at his
own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down so quick
since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass
all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at
her in the night, and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there
wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a
bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may tell me without
betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?" As he spoke
the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a torture of suspense
regarding the woman he loved, and his utter ignorance of the terrible
mystery which seemed to surround her intensified his pain. His very
heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him--and there was a
royal lot of it, too--to keep him from breaking down. I paused before
answering, for I felt that I must not betray anything which the
Professor wished kept secret; but already he knew so much, and guessed
so much, that there could be no reason for not answering, so I answered
in the same phrase: "That's so."

"And how long has this been going on?"

"About ten days."

"Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature
that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood
of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn't hold it." Then,
coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper: "What took it
out?"

I shook my head. "That," I said, "is the crux. Van Helsing is simply
frantic about it, and I am at my wits' end. I can't even hazard a guess.
There has been a series of little circumstances which have thrown out
all our calculations as to Lucy being properly watched. But these shall
not occur again. Here we stay until all be well--or ill." Quincey held
out his hand. "Count me in," he said. "You and the Dutchman will tell me
what to do, and I'll do it."

When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy's first movement was to feel
in her breast, and, to my surprise, produced the paper which Van Helsing
had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced it where it had
come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her eye then lit on Van
Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she looked around the room,
and seeing where she was, shuddered; she gave a loud cry, and put her
poor thin hands before her pale face. We both understood what that
meant--that she had realised to the full her mother's death; so we tried
what we could to comfort her. Doubtless sympathy eased her somewhat, but
she was very low in thought and spirit, and wept silently and weakly for
a long time. We told her that either or both of us would now remain with
her all the time, and that seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell
into a doze. Here a very odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she
took the paper from her breast and tore it in two. Van Helsing stepped
over and took the pieces from her. All the same, however, she went on
with the action of tearing, as though the material were still in her
hands; finally she lifted her hands and opened them as though scattering
the fragments. Van Helsing seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as
if in thought, but he said nothing.

       *       *       *       *       *

_19 September._--All last night she slept fitfully, being always afraid
to sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The Professor and
I took it in turns to watch, and we never left her for a moment
unattended. Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I knew
that all night long he patrolled round and round the house.

When the day came, its searching light showed the ravages in poor Lucy's
strength. She was hardly able to turn her head, and the little
nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At times she
slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between
sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although more
haggard, and her breathing was softer; her open mouth showed the pale
gums drawn back from the teeth, which thus looked positively longer and
sharper than usual; when she woke the softness of her eyes evidently
changed the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying
one. In the afternoon she asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed for him.
Quincey went off to meet him at the station.

When he arrived it was nearly six o'clock, and the sun was setting full
and warm, and the red light streamed in through the window and gave more
colour to the pale cheeks. When he saw her, Arthur was simply choking
with emotion, and none of us could speak. In the hours that had passed,
the fits of sleep, or the comatose condition that passed for it, had
grown more frequent, so that the pauses when conversation was possible
were shortened. Arthur's presence, however, seemed to act as a
stimulant; she rallied a little, and spoke to him more brightly than she
had done since we arrived. He too pulled himself together, and spoke as
cheerily as he could, so that the best was made of everything.

It was now nearly one o'clock, and he and Van Helsing are sitting with
her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an hour, and I am entering
this on Lucy's phonograph. Until six o'clock they are to try to rest. I
fear that to-morrow will end our watching, for the shock has been too
great; the poor child cannot rally. God help us all.

_Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra._

(Unopened by her.)

"_17 September._

"My dearest Lucy,--

"It seems _an age_ since I heard from you, or indeed since I wrote. You
will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all my
budget of news. Well, I got my husband back all right; when we arrived
at Exeter there was a carriage waiting for us, and in it, though he had
an attack of gout, Mr. Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there
were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined together. After
dinner Mr. Hawkins said:--

"'My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every
blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and have, with
love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make your home here
with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in
my will I have left you everything.' I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan and
the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one.

"So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from both my
bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the great elms of the cathedral
close, with their great black stems standing out against the old yellow
stone of the cathedral and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and
cawing and chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner of
rooks--and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging things and
housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all day; for, now that
Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to tell him all about the
clients.

"How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could run up to town for a
day or two to see you, dear, but I dare not go yet, with so much on my
shoulders; and Jonathan wants looking after still. He is beginning to
put some flesh on his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the
long illness; even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a sudden
way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him back to his usual
placidity. However, thank God, these occasions grow less frequent as the
days go on, and they will in time pass away altogether, I trust. And now
I have told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married,
and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and what are you to wear,
and is it to be a public or a private wedding? Tell me all about it,
dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests
you which will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his
'respectful duty,' but I do not think that is good enough from the
junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you
love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses
of the verb, I send you simply his 'love' instead. Good-bye, my dearest
Lucy, and all blessings on you.

"Yours,

"MINA HARKER."

_Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I.,
etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D._

"_20 September._

"My dear Sir,--

"In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the conditions of
everything left in my charge.... With regard to patient, Renfield, there
is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a
dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended
with any unhappy results. This afternoon a carrier's cart with two men
made a call at the empty house whose grounds abut on ours--the house to
which, you will remember, the patient twice ran away. The men stopped at
our gate to ask the porter their way, as they were strangers. I was
myself looking out of the study window, having a smoke after dinner, and
saw one of them come up to the house. As he passed the window of
Renfield's room, the patient began to rate him from within, and called
him all the foul names he could lay his tongue to. The man, who seemed a
decent fellow enough, contented himself by telling him to "shut up for a
foul-mouthed beggar," whereon our man accused him of robbing him and
wanting to murder him and said that he would hinder him if he were to
swing for it. I opened the window and signed to the man not to notice,
so he contented himself after looking the place over and making up his
mind as to what kind of a place he had got to by saying: 'Lor' bless
yer, sir, I wouldn't mind what was said to me in a bloomin' madhouse. I
pity ye and the guv'nor for havin' to live in the house with a wild
beast like that.' Then he asked his way civilly enough, and I told him
where the gate of the empty house was; he went away, followed by threats
and curses and revilings from our man. I went down to see if I could
make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a
well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had
ever occurred. I found him, to my astonishment, quite composed and most
genial in his manner. I tried to get him to talk of the incident, but he
blandly asked me questions as to what I meant, and led me to believe
that he was completely oblivious of the affair. It was, I am sorry to
say, however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an
hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through the
window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I called to the
attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent
on some mischief. My fear was justified when I saw the same cart which
had passed before coming down the road, having on it some great wooden
boxes. The men were wiping their foreheads, and were flushed in the
face, as if with violent exercise. Before I could get up to him the
patient rushed at them, and pulling one of them off the cart, began to
knock his head against the ground. If I had not seized him just at the
moment I believe he would have killed the man there and then. The other
fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his
heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but
seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and
fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others
were both burly men. At first he was silent in his fighting; but as we
began to master him, and the attendants were putting a strait-waistcoat
on him, he began to shout: 'I'll frustrate them! They shan't rob me!
they shan't murder me by inches! I'll fight for my Lord and Master!' and
all sorts of similar incoherent ravings. It was with very considerable
difficulty that they got him back to the house and put him in the padded
room. One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I set
it all right; and he is going on well.

"The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for
damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us. Their
threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology for
the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it
had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and
raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work of
him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary
state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of
their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their
labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their
drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and
with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore
that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of
meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their
names and addresses, in case they might be needed. They are as
follows:--Jack Smollet, of Dudding's Rents, King George's Road, Great
Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley's Row, Guide Court, Bethnal
Green. They are both in the employment of Harris & Sons, Moving and
Shipment Company, Orange Master's Yard, Soho.

"I shall report to you any matter of interest occurring here, and shall
wire you at once if there is anything of importance.

"Believe me, dear Sir,

"Yours faithfully,

"PATRICK HENNESSEY."

_Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra_.

(Unopened by her.)

"_18 September._

"My dearest Lucy,--

"Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly.
Some may not think it so sad for us, but we had both come to so love him
that it really seems as though we had lost a father. I never knew either
father or mother, so that the dear old man's death is a real blow to me.
Jonathan is greatly distressed. It is not only that he feels sorrow,
deep sorrow, for the dear, good man who has befriended him all his life,
and now at the end has treated him like his own son and left him a
fortune which to people of our modest bringing up is wealth beyond the
dream of avarice, but Jonathan feels it on another account. He says the
amount of responsibility which it puts upon him makes him nervous. He
begins to doubt himself. I try to cheer him up, and _my_ belief in _him_
helps him to have a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave
shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard
that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his--a nature which
enabled him by our dear, good friend's aid to rise from clerk to master
in a few years--should be so injured that the very essence of its
strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in
the midst of your own happiness; but, Lucy dear, I must tell some one,
for the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan
tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in. I dread coming
up to London, as we must do the day after to-morrow; for poor Mr.
Hawkins left in his will that he was to be buried in the grave with his
father. As there are no relations at all, Jonathan will have to be chief
mourner. I shall try to run over to see you, dearest, if only for a few
minutes. Forgive me for troubling you. With all blessings,

"Your loving

"MINA HARKER."

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_20 September._--Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry
to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world
and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard
this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death. And he has
been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late--Lucy's mother
and Arthur's father, and now.... Let me get on with my work.

I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur to
go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told him
that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we must not
all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, that he agreed
to go. Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said;
"come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much
mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You
must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms.
Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two
sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will
be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we
sleep." Arthur went off with him, casting back a longing look on Lucy's
face, which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay
quite still, and I looked round the room to see that all was as it
should be. I could see that the Professor had carried out in this room,
as in the other, his purpose of using the garlic; the whole of the
window-sashes reeked with it, and round Lucy's neck, over the silk
handkerchief which Van Helsing made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of
the same odorous flowers. Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and
her face was at its worst, for the open mouth showed the pale gums. Her
teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they
had been in the morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the
canine teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her,
and presently she moved uneasily. At the same moment there came a sort
of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I went over to it softly,
and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There was a full moonlight,
and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled
round--doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim--and every now
and again struck the window with its wings. When I came back to my seat,
I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and had torn away the garlic
flowers from her throat. I replaced them as well as I could, and sat
watching her.

Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had prescribed.
She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not seem to be with
her now the unconscious struggle for life and strength that had hitherto
so marked her illness. It struck me as curious that the moment she
became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was
certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the
stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she
waked she clutched them close. There was no possibility of making any
mistake about this, for in the long hours that followed, she had many
spells of sleeping and waking and repeated both actions many times.

At six o'clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then fallen
into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw Lucy's face
I could hear the sissing indraw of his breath, and he said to me in a
sharp whisper: "Draw up the blind; I want light!" Then he bent down,
and, with his face almost touching Lucy's, examined her carefully. He
removed the flowers and lifted the silk handkerchief from her throat. As
he did so he started back, and I could hear his ejaculation, "Mein
Gott!" as it was smothered in his throat. I bent over and looked, too,
and as I noticed some queer chill came over me.

The wounds on the throat had absolutely disappeared.

For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his face
at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly:--

"She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark
me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and
let him come and see the last; he trusts us, and we have promised him."

I went to the dining-room and waked him. He was dazed for a moment, but
when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the edges of the shutters
he thought he was late, and expressed his fear. I assured him that Lucy
was still asleep, but told him as gently as I could that both Van
Helsing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his face with his
hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa, where he remained,
perhaps a minute, with his head buried, praying, whilst his shoulders
shook with grief. I took him by the hand and raised him up. "Come," I
said, "my dear old fellow, summon all your fortitude: it will be best
and easiest for her."

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with
his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making
everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's
hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we
came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered
softly:--

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" He was stooping to
kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered, "not
yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."

So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she looked her best,
with all the soft lines matching the angelic beauty of her eyes. Then
gradually her eyes closed, and she sank to sleep. For a little bit her
breast heaved softly, and her breath came and went like a tired child's.

And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed in
the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale
gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a
sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which
were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice,
such as I had never heard from her lips:--

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Arthur bent
eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who, like me,
had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by
the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which
I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled him almost
across the room.

"Not for your life!" he said; "not for your living soul and hers!" And
he stood between them like a lion at bay.

Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment know what to do
or say; and before any impulse of violence could seize him he realised
the place and the occasion, and stood silent, waiting.

I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm as
of rage flit like a shadow over her face; the sharp teeth champed
together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily.

Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and
putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing's great brown
one; drawing it to her, she kissed it. "My true friend," she said, in a
faint voice, but with untellable pathos, "My true friend, and his! Oh,
guard him, and give me peace!"

"I swear it!" he said solemnly, kneeling beside her and holding up his
hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he turned to Arthur, and said
to him: "Come, my child, take her hand in yours, and kiss her on the
forehead, and only once."

Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted.

Lucy's eyes closed; and Van Helsing, who had been watching closely, took
Arthur's arm, and drew him away.

And then Lucy's breathing became stertorous again, and all at once it
ceased.

"It is all over," said Van Helsing. "She is dead!"

I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the drawing-room, where he
sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a way that
nearly broke me down to see.

I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking at poor Lucy, and
his face was sterner than ever. Some change had come over her body.
Death had given back part of her beauty, for her brow and cheeks had
recovered some of their flowing lines; even the lips had lost their
deadly pallor. It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working
of the heart, had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as
might be.

    "We thought her dying whilst she slept,
        And sleeping when she died."

I stood beside Van Helsing, and said:--

"Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!"

He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:--

"Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:--

"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Dr. Seward's diary continues to note that, on 18 th of September, Van Helsing and Dr. Seward rush up to find Mrs. Westenra dead, and Lucy barely alive. The maids have all fainted. Quincey Morris enters and he gives blood to her. Arthur is informed about Mrs. Westenras death for the first time. Van Helsing tells Dr. Seward about his suspicion of vampires. On 19 th of September, Lucy is examined; her teeth look unnaturally sharp. Mina Harker sends a letter to Lucy, which is unopened by her, telling her about Jonathan and her. A report from Patrick Hennesey is added about Renfield, who has run away twice to the house next door crying, "Ill fight for my lord and master." Lucy is dying, but this time Van Helsing does not allow Arthur to kiss her.