Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.1-12
and went. Happy thought! We shall tonight play sane wits against mad `
` ones. He escaped before without our help. Tonight he shall escape `
` with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow `
` in case they are required. `
` `
` `
` 23 August.--"The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew `
` life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our `
` subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one `
` thing, that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall `
` in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have `
` given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded `
` room, when once he is quiet, until the hour before sunrise. The poor `
` soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate `
` it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called. The patient has once `
` more escaped. `
` `
` `
` Later.--Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the `
` attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past `
` him and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to `
` follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we `
` found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. `
` When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized `
` him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a `
` strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then `
` as suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see `
` nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could `
` trace nothing as it looked into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, `
` which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the west. Bats `
` usually wheel about, but this one seemed to go straight on, as if it `
` knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own. `
` `
` The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You `
` needn't tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back `
` to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and `
` shall not forget this night. `
` `
` `
` `
` LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY `
` `
` Hillingham, 24 August.--I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things `
` down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it `
` will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last `
` night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps `
` it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and `
` horrid to me, for I can remember nothing. But I am full of vague `
` fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he `
` looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to `
` be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room tonight. I `
` shall make an excuse to try. `
` `
` `
` 25 August.--Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my `
` proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to `
` worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when `
` the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been `
` falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the `
` window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I `
` must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember `
` them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and `
` my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I `
` don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall try to cheer up when `
` Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so. `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD `
` `
` "Albemarle Hotel, 31 August `
` `
` "My dear Jack, `
` `
` "I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no `
` special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every `
` day. I have asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her `
` mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in `
` her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has `
` confided to me that her doom is spoken, disease of the heart, though `
` poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something `
` preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distracted when I think `
` of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask `
` you to see her, and though she demurred at first, I know why, old `
` fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I `
` know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to `
` ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham `
` tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in Mrs. `
` Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being `
` alone with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with `
` you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail! `
` `
` "Arthur." `
` `
` `
` `
` TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD `
` `
` 1 September `
` `
` "Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write `
` me fully by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary." `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD `
` `
` 2 September `
` `
` "My dear old fellow, `
` `
` "With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at `
` once that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or `
` any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means `
` satisfied with her appearance. She is woefully different from what `
` she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I `
` did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish. `
` Our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical `
` science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly `
` what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own `
` conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing. `
` `
` "I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was `
` present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying `
` all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being `
` anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what `
` need of caution there is. `
` `
` "We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, `
` we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real `
` cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and `
` Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got `
` there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. `
` `
` "As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her `
` face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her `
` eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I `
` at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. `
` `
` "She said to me very sweetly, 'I cannot tell you how I loathe `
` talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence `
` was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She `
` caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. `
` 'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but `
` for him!' So I am quite free. `
` `
` "I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless, but I could not `
` see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance, I was able to test `
` the actual quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was `
` stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken `
` glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident `
` chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed `
` them. `
` `
` "The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and shows, `
` I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other `
` physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for `
` anxiety, but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the `
` conclusion that it must be something mental. `
` `
` "She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times, and `
` of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but `
` regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child, `
` she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit `
` came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to `
` East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her. But she assures me that of `
` late the habit has not returned. `
` `
` "I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have `
` written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of `
` Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in `
` the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that `
` all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who `
` you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, `
` is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to `
` do anything I can for her. `
` `
` "Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal `
` reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his `
` wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows `
` what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a `
` philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced `
` scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open `
` mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and `
` indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from `
` virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, `
` these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for `
` mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide `
` as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may `
` know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at `
` once. I shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to meet me `
` at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a `
` repetition of my call. `
` `
` "Yours always." `
` `
` John Seward `
` `
` `
` `
` `
`
` ones. He escaped before without our help. Tonight he shall escape `
` with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow `
` in case they are required. `
` `
` `
` 23 August.--"The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew `
` life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our `
` subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one `
` thing, that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall `
` in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have `
` given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded `
` room, when once he is quiet, until the hour before sunrise. The poor `
` soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate `
` it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called. The patient has once `
` more escaped. `
` `
` `
` Later.--Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the `
` attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past `
` him and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to `
` follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we `
` found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. `
` When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized `
` him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him a `
` strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then `
` as suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see `
` nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could `
` trace nothing as it looked into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, `
` which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the west. Bats `
` usually wheel about, but this one seemed to go straight on, as if it `
` knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own. `
` `
` The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You `
` needn't tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back `
` to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and `
` shall not forget this night. `
` `
` `
` `
` LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY `
` `
` Hillingham, 24 August.--I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things `
` down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it `
` will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last `
` night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps `
` it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and `
` horrid to me, for I can remember nothing. But I am full of vague `
` fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he `
` looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to `
` be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room tonight. I `
` shall make an excuse to try. `
` `
` `
` 25 August.--Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my `
` proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to `
` worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when `
` the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been `
` falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the `
` window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I `
` must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember `
` them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and `
` my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I `
` don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall try to cheer up when `
` Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so. `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD `
` `
` "Albemarle Hotel, 31 August `
` `
` "My dear Jack, `
` `
` "I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no `
` special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every `
` day. I have asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her `
` mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in `
` her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has `
` confided to me that her doom is spoken, disease of the heart, though `
` poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something `
` preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distracted when I think `
` of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask `
` you to see her, and though she demurred at first, I know why, old `
` fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I `
` know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to `
` ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham `
` tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in Mrs. `
` Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being `
` alone with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with `
` you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail! `
` `
` "Arthur." `
` `
` `
` `
` TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD `
` `
` 1 September `
` `
` "Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write `
` me fully by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary." `
` `
` `
` `
` LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD `
` `
` 2 September `
` `
` "My dear old fellow, `
` `
` "With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at `
` once that in my opinion there is not any functional disturbance or `
` any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means `
` satisfied with her appearance. She is woefully different from what `
` she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I `
` did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish. `
` Our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical `
` science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly `
` what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own `
` conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing. `
` `
` "I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was `
` present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying `
` all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being `
` anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what `
` need of caution there is. `
` `
` "We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, `
` we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real `
` cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and `
` Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got `
` there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. `
` `
` "As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her `
` face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her `
` eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I `
` at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. `
` `
` "She said to me very sweetly, 'I cannot tell you how I loathe `
` talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence `
` was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She `
` caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. `
` 'Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but `
` for him!' So I am quite free. `
` `
` "I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless, but I could not `
` see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance, I was able to test `
` the actual quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was `
` stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken `
` glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident `
` chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed `
` them. `
` `
` "The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and shows, `
` I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other `
` physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for `
` anxiety, but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the `
` conclusion that it must be something mental. `
` `
` "She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times, and `
` of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but `
` regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child, `
` she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit `
` came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to `
` East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her. But she assures me that of `
` late the habit has not returned. `
` `
` "I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have `
` written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of `
` Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in `
` the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that `
` all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who `
` you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, `
` is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to `
` do anything I can for her. `
` `
` "Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal `
` reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his `
` wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows `
` what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a `
` philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced `
` scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open `
` mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and `
` indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from `
` virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, `
` these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for `
` mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide `
` as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may `
` know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at `
` once. I shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to meet me `
` at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a `
` repetition of my call. `
` `
` "Yours always." `
` `
` John Seward `
` `
` `
` `
` `
`