Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
9 May. `
` `
` My dearest Lucy, `
` `
` Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed `
` with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes `
` trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can `
` talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been `
` working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's `
` studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously. `
` When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if `
` I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in `
` this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I `
` am practicing very hard. `
` `
` He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is `
` keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When `
` I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't `
` mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed- `
` in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write `
` in whenever I feel inclined. `
` `
` I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but `
` it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if `
` there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise `
` book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do, `
` interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember `
` conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can `
` remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. `
` `
` However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we `
` meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from `
` Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I `
` am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to see strange `
` countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see `
` them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye. `
` `
` Your loving `
` `
` Mina `
` `
` `
` Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me `
` anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially `
` of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man??? `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY `
` `
` `
` 17, Chatham Street `
` `
` Wednesday `
` `
` My dearest Mina, `
` `
` `
` I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. `
` I wrote you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only `
` your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really `
` nothing to interest you. `
` `
` Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal to `
` picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As `
` to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who `
` was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been `
` telling tales. `
` `
` That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and `
` Mamma get on very well together, they have so many things `
` to talk about in common. `
` `
` We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were `
` not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti, being `
` handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really `
` clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and twenty, and he has an `
` immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood `
` introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes `
` now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet `
` the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what `
` a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious `
` habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read `
` one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter `
` myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. `
` `
` Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can `
` tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble `
` than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. `
` `
` He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and `
` I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient `
` interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. `
` Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind. Arthur `
` says that every day. `
` `
` There, it is all out, Mina, we have told all our secrets to `
` each other since we were children. We have slept together `
` and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and `
` now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, `
` Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I `
` write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me `
` so in words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him! There, `
` that does me good. `
` `
` I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we `
` used to sit, and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know `
` how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should `
` tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to `
` tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you `
` think about it. Mina, pray for my happiness. `
` `
` Lucy `
` `
` `
` P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. `
` Goodnight again. L. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY `
` `
` 24 May `
` `
` My dearest Mina, `
` `
` Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It `
` was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy. `
` `
` My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs `
` are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never `
` had a proposal till today, not a real proposal, and today I had `
` three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't it awful! I `
` feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. `
` Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. `
` And three proposals! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the `
` girls, or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas, and `
` imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very first day `
` at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You `
` and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon `
` soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must `
` tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from `
` every one except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I `
` would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman `
` ought to tell her husband everything. Don't you think so, dear? And `
` I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite `
` as fair as they are. And women, I am afraid, are not always quite `
` as fair as they should be. `
` `
` Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of `
` him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man, with the strong jaw `
` and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous `
` all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all `
` sorts of little things, and remembered them, but he almost managed `
` to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they `
` are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing `
` with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, `
` Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, `
` though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me `
` to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would `
` be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said he was `
` a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off `
` and asked if I could love him in time, and when I shook my head his `
` hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared `
` already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did `
` not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because `
` if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, `
` I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only `
` told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong `
` and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I `
` would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend I must count him `
` one of my best. `
` `
` Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying, and you must excuse this letter `
` being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice and all that `
` sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you have to `
` see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and `
` looking all broken hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may `
` say at the moment, you are passing out of his life. My dear, I must `
` stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy. `
` `
` Evening. `
` `
` Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I `
` left off, so I can go on telling you about the day. `
` `
` Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice `
` fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh `
` that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places `
` and has such adventures. I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she `
` had such a stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose `
` that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from `
` fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man `
` and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. `
` Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and `
` yet . . . `
` `
` My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me `
` alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he `
` doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him `
`
` `
` My dearest Lucy, `
` `
` Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been simply overwhelmed `
` with work. The life of an assistant schoolmistress is sometimes `
` trying. I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can `
` talk together freely and build our castles in the air. I have been `
` working very hard lately, because I want to keep up with Jonathan's `
` studies, and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously. `
` When we are married I shall be able to be useful to Jonathan, and if `
` I can stenograph well enough I can take down what he wants to say in `
` this way and write it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I `
` am practicing very hard. `
` `
` He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and he is `
` keeping a stenographic journal of his travels abroad. When `
` I am with you I shall keep a diary in the same way. I don't `
` mean one of those two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed- `
` in-a-corner diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write `
` in whenever I feel inclined. `
` `
` I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but `
` it is not intended for them. I may show it to Jonathan some day if `
` there is in it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise `
` book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists do, `
` interviewing and writing descriptions and trying to remember `
` conversations. I am told that, with a little practice, one can `
` remember all that goes on or that one hears said during a day. `
` `
` However, we shall see. I will tell you of my little plans when we `
` meet. I have just had a few hurried lines from Jonathan from `
` Transylvania. He is well, and will be returning in about a week. I `
` am longing to hear all his news. It must be nice to see strange `
` countries. I wonder if we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see `
` them together. There is the ten o'clock bell ringing. Goodbye. `
` `
` Your loving `
` `
` Mina `
` `
` `
` Tell me all the news when you write. You have not told me `
` anything for a long time. I hear rumours, and especially `
` of a tall, handsome, curly-haired man??? `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY `
` `
` `
` 17, Chatham Street `
` `
` Wednesday `
` `
` My dearest Mina, `
` `
` `
` I must say you tax me very unfairly with being a bad correspondent. `
` I wrote you twice since we parted, and your last letter was only `
` your second. Besides, I have nothing to tell you. There is really `
` nothing to interest you. `
` `
` Town is very pleasant just now, and we go a great deal to `
` picture-galleries and for walks and rides in the park. As `
` to the tall, curly-haired man, I suppose it was the one who `
` was with me at the last Pop. Someone has evidently been `
` telling tales. `
` `
` That was Mr. Holmwood. He often comes to see us, and he and `
` Mamma get on very well together, they have so many things `
` to talk about in common. `
` `
` We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were `
` not already engaged to Jonathan. He is an excellent parti, being `
` handsome, well off, and of good birth. He is a doctor and really `
` clever. Just fancy! He is only nine-and twenty, and he has an `
` immense lunatic asylum all under his own care. Mr. Holmwood `
` introduced him to me, and he called here to see us, and often comes `
` now. I think he is one of the most resolute men I ever saw, and yet `
` the most calm. He seems absolutely imperturbable. I can fancy what `
` a wonderful power he must have over his patients. He has a curious `
` habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read `
` one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter `
` myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. `
` `
` Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can `
` tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble `
` than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. `
` `
` He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and `
` I humbly think I do. I do not, as you know, take sufficient `
` interest in dress to be able to describe the new fashions. `
` Dress is a bore. That is slang again, but never mind. Arthur `
` says that every day. `
` `
` There, it is all out, Mina, we have told all our secrets to `
` each other since we were children. We have slept together `
` and eaten together, and laughed and cried together, and `
` now, though I have spoken, I would like to speak more. Oh, `
` Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I `
` write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me `
` so in words. But, oh, Mina, I love him. I love him! There, `
` that does me good. `
` `
` I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we `
` used to sit, and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know `
` how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should `
` tear up the letter, and I don't want to stop, for I do so want to `
` tell you all. Let me hear from you at once, and tell me all that you `
` think about it. Mina, pray for my happiness. `
` `
` Lucy `
` `
` `
` P.S.--I need not tell you this is a secret. `
` Goodnight again. L. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA MURRAY `
` `
` 24 May `
` `
` My dearest Mina, `
` `
` Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again for your sweet letter. It `
` was so nice to be able to tell you and to have your sympathy. `
` `
` My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs `
` are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never `
` had a proposal till today, not a real proposal, and today I had `
` three. Just fancy! Three proposals in one day! Isn't it awful! I `
` feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows. `
` Oh, Mina, I am so happy that I don't know what to do with myself. `
` And three proposals! But, for goodness' sake, don't tell any of the `
` girls, or they would be getting all sorts of extravagant ideas, and `
` imagining themselves injured and slighted if in their very first day `
` at home they did not get six at least. Some girls are so vain! You `
` and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon `
` soberly into old married women, can despise vanity. Well, I must `
` tell you about the three, but you must keep it a secret, dear, from `
` every one except, of course, Jonathan. You will tell him, because I `
` would, if I were in your place, certainly tell Arthur. A woman `
` ought to tell her husband everything. Don't you think so, dear? And `
` I must be fair. Men like women, certainly their wives, to be quite `
` as fair as they are. And women, I am afraid, are not always quite `
` as fair as they should be. `
` `
` Well, my dear, number One came just before lunch. I told you of `
` him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic asylum man, with the strong jaw `
` and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous `
` all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all `
` sorts of little things, and remembered them, but he almost managed `
` to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they `
` are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing `
` with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream. He spoke to me, `
` Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, `
` though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me `
` to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would `
` be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said he was `
` a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off `
` and asked if I could love him in time, and when I shook my head his `
` hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared `
` already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did `
` not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because `
` if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, `
` I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only `
` told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong `
` and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I `
` would be happy, and that If I ever wanted a friend I must count him `
` one of my best. `
` `
` Oh, Mina dear, I can't help crying, and you must excuse this letter `
` being all blotted. Being proposed to is all very nice and all that `
` sort of thing, but it isn't at all a happy thing when you have to `
` see a poor fellow, whom you know loves you honestly, going away and `
` looking all broken hearted, and to know that, no matter what he may `
` say at the moment, you are passing out of his life. My dear, I must `
` stop here at present, I feel so miserable, though I am so happy. `
` `
` Evening. `
` `
` Arthur has just gone, and I feel in better spirits than when I `
` left off, so I can go on telling you about the day. `
` `
` Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice `
` fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh `
` that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places `
` and has such adventures. I sympathize with poor Desdemona when she `
` had such a stream poured in her ear, even by a black man. I suppose `
` that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from `
` fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man `
` and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. `
` Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and `
` yet . . . `
` `
` My dear, I am somewhat previous. Mr. Quincy P. Morris found me `
` alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he `
` doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him `
`