Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat, `
` whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was quite a little startled `
` myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes `
` like burning flames, but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red `
` sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our `
` seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the `
` refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I `
` called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself `
` with a start, but she looked sad all the same. It may have been that `
` she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to `
` it, so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache `
` and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little `
` stroll myself. `
` `
` I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet `
` sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home, it was then `
` bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the `
` Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen, I threw a glance `
` up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I opened my `
` handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement `
` whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the `
` building, and the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy `
` with her head lying up against the side of the window sill and her eyes `
` shut. She was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window sill, was `
` something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might `
` get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was `
` moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily. She was `
` holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect if from the cold. `
` `
` I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have taken care that `
` the door is locked and the window securely fastened. `
` `
` She looks so sweet as she sleeps, but she is paler than is her wont, `
` and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. `
` I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it `
` is. `
` `
` `
` 15 August.--Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and `
` slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at `
` breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come `
` off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry `
` at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to `
` lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have `
` some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me `
` that she has got her death warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me `
` promise secrecy. Her doctor told her that within a few months, at `
` most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, `
` a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to `
` keep from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking. `
` `
` `
` 17 August.--No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to `
` write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our `
` happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, `
` whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not `
` understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and `
` sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air, but all the time the roses in `
` her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day. `
` At night I hear her gasping as if for air. `
` `
` I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but `
` she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. `
` Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to `
` wake her I could not. `
` `
` She was in a faint. When I managed to restore her, she was weak as `
` water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. `
` When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head `
` and turned away. `
` `
` I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the `
` safety-pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the `
` tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if `
` anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. `
` They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal `
` within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them. `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS WHITBY, `
` TO MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON. `
` `
` 17 August `
` `
` "Dear Sirs,--Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great `
` Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near `
` Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The `
` house is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of `
` which are labelled. `
` `
` "You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the `
` consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the `
` house and marked 'A' on rough diagrams enclosed. Your agent will `
` easily recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the `
` mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be `
` due at King's Cross at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. As our client `
` wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by `
` your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and `
` forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate `
` any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment `
` in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds, `
` receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be less than `
` this amount, you can return balance, if greater, we shall at once `
` send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to leave `
` the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the `
` proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his `
` duplicate key. `
` `
` "Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy `
` in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition. `
` `
` "We are, dear Sirs, `
` Faithfully yours, `
` SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON" `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, `
` TO MESSRS. BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY. `
` `
` 21 August. `
` `
` "Dear Sirs,--We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return `
` cheque of 1 pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in `
` receipted account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance `
` with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as `
` directed. `
` `
` "We are, dear Sirs, `
` Yours respectfully, `
` Pro CARTER, PATERSON & CO." `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL. `
` `
` 18 August.--I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in the `
` churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well `
` all night, and did not disturb me once. `
` `
` The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still `
` sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I could `
` understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life `
` and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from `
` her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of `
` that night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her `
` asleep. `
` `
` As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the `
` stone slab and said, `
` `
` "My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old `
` Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake `
` up Geordie." `
` `
` As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had `
` dreamed at all that night. `
` `
` Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, `
` which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and `
` indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a `
` half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself. `
` `
` "I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to `
` be here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid of something, `
` I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing `
` through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, `
` and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling. The `
` whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as `
` I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and `
` dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very `
` sweet and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking `
` into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have `
` heard there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away `
` from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the `
` air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under `
` me, and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an `
` earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you `
` do it before I felt you." `
` `
` Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I `
` listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it `
` better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to another `
` subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the `
` fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more `
` rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very `
` happy evening together. `
` `
` `
` 19 August.--Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of `
` Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write. `
` I am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins `
` sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave `
` in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if `
` necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a `
` bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the `
` good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it `
` lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be near my heart, for he is in my `
` heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only `
` taking one change of dress. Lucy will bring my trunk to London and `
`
` whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was quite a little startled `
` myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes `
` like burning flames, but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red `
` sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our `
` seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the `
` refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I `
` called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself `
` with a start, but she looked sad all the same. It may have been that `
` she was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to `
` it, so I said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a headache `
` and went early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little `
` stroll myself. `
` `
` I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet `
` sadness, for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home, it was then `
` bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the `
` Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen, I threw a glance `
` up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I opened my `
` handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement `
` whatever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the `
` building, and the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy `
` with her head lying up against the side of the window sill and her eyes `
` shut. She was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window sill, was `
` something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might `
` get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was `
` moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily. She was `
` holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect if from the cold. `
` `
` I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have taken care that `
` the door is locked and the window securely fastened. `
` `
` She looks so sweet as she sleeps, but she is paler than is her wont, `
` and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. `
` I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what it `
` is. `
` `
` `
` 15 August.--Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and `
` slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at `
` breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come `
` off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry `
` at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to `
` lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have `
` some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me `
` that she has got her death warrant. She has not told Lucy, and made me `
` promise secrecy. Her doctor told her that within a few months, at `
` most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At any time, even now, `
` a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her. Ah, we were wise to `
` keep from her the affair of the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking. `
` `
` `
` 17 August.--No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to `
` write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our `
` happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, `
` whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not `
` understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and `
` sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air, but all the time the roses in `
` her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by day. `
` At night I hear her gasping as if for air. `
` `
` I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but `
` she gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. `
` Last night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to `
` wake her I could not. `
` `
` She was in a faint. When I managed to restore her, she was weak as `
` water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath. `
` When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head `
` and turned away. `
` `
` I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the `
` safety-pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the `
` tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if `
` anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly white. `
` They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal `
` within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them. `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS WHITBY, `
` TO MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON. `
` `
` 17 August `
` `
` "Dear Sirs,--Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great `
` Northern Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near `
` Purfleet, immediately on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The `
` house is at present empty, but enclosed please find keys, all of `
` which are labelled. `
` `
` "You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the `
` consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the `
` house and marked 'A' on rough diagrams enclosed. Your agent will `
` easily recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the `
` mansion. The goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be `
` due at King's Cross at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. As our client `
` wishes the delivery made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by `
` your having teams ready at King's Cross at the time named and `
` forthwith conveying the goods to destination. In order to obviate `
` any delays possible through any routine requirements as to payment `
` in your departments, we enclose cheque herewith for ten pounds, `
` receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the charge be less than `
` this amount, you can return balance, if greater, we shall at once `
` send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to leave `
` the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the `
` proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his `
` duplicate key. `
` `
` "Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of business courtesy `
` in pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition. `
` `
` "We are, dear Sirs, `
` Faithfully yours, `
` SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON" `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, `
` TO MESSRS. BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY. `
` `
` 21 August. `
` `
` "Dear Sirs,--We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return `
` cheque of 1 pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in `
` receipted account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance `
` with instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as `
` directed. `
` `
` "We are, dear Sirs, `
` Yours respectfully, `
` Pro CARTER, PATERSON & CO." `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL. `
` `
` 18 August.--I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in the `
` churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well `
` all night, and did not disturb me once. `
` `
` The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is still `
` sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I could `
` understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life `
` and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from `
` her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of `
` that night, and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her `
` asleep. `
` `
` As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the `
` stone slab and said, `
` `
` "My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old `
` Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake `
` up Geordie." `
` `
` As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had `
` dreamed at all that night. `
` `
` Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead, `
` which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and `
` indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a `
` half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself. `
` `
` "I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to `
` be here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid of something, `
` I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing `
` through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, `
` and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling. The `
` whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as `
` I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and `
` dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very `
` sweet and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking `
` into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have `
` heard there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away `
` from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the `
` air. I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under `
` me, and then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an `
` earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you `
` do it before I felt you." `
` `
` Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I `
` listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought it `
` better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to another `
` subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the `
` fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more `
` rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very `
` happy evening together. `
` `
` `
` 19 August.--Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of `
` Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write. `
` I am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins `
` sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave `
` in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if `
` necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a `
` bad thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the `
` good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it `
` lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be near my heart, for he is in my `
` heart. My journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only `
` taking one change of dress. Lucy will bring my trunk to London and `
`