Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.13-27
`
` `
` The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he `
` said, "pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go `
` to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. `
` Telegraph her en route so that she may be prepared." `
` `
` When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he told me `
` of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a `
` typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby. `
` "Take these," he said, "and study them well. When I have returned you `
` will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on our `
` inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. `
` You will need all your faith, even you who have had such an experience `
` as that of today. What is here told," he laid his hand heavily and `
` gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of `
` the end to you and me and many another, or it may sound the knell of `
` the UnDead who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open `
` mind, and if you can add in any way to the story here told do so, for `
` it is all important. You have kept a diary of all these so strange `
` things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all these `
` together when we meet." He then made ready for his departure and `
` shortly drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, `
` where I arrived about fifteen minutes before the train came in. `
` `
` The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to arrival `
` platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my `
` guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl stepped up to me, and `
` after a quick glance said, "Dr. Seward, is it not?" `
` `
` "And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once, whereupon she held out `
` her hand. `
` `
` "I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but . . ." She `
` stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face. `
` `
` The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for `
` it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a `
` typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I `
` had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting room and a bedroom `
` prepared at once for Mrs. Harker. `
` `
` In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a `
` lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a `
` shudder when we entered. `
` `
` She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, `
` as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my `
` phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance `
` of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they `
` lie open before me. I must get her interested in something, so that I `
` may have an opportunity of reading them. She does not know how `
` precious time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be careful `
` not to frighten her. Here she is! `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL `
` `
` 29 September.--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward's `
` study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him `
` talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I `
` knocked at the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered. `
` `
` To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite `
` alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the `
` description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much `
` interested. `
` `
` "I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said, "but I stayed at the door `
` as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with you." `
` `
` "Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary." `
` `
` "Your diary?" I asked him in surprise. `
` `
` "Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his `
` hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted `
` out, "Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?" `
` `
` "Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train `
` for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his `
` face. `
` `
` "The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it, and as `
` it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be awkward, `
` that is, I mean . . ." He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his `
` embarrassment. `
` `
` "You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died, `
` for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, `
` very dear to me." `
` `
` To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face, `
` "Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!" `
` `
` "Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me. `
` `
` Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an `
` excuse. At length, he stammered out, "You see, I do not know how to `
` pick out any particular part of the diary." `
` `
` Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said with `
` unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the naivete of `
` a child, "that's quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian!" `
` `
` I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself away that `
` time!" he said. "But do you know that, although I have kept the diary `
` for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any `
` particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" `
` `
` By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who `
` attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our knowledge `
` of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, "Then, Dr. Seward, you had `
` better let me copy it out for you on my typewriter." `
` `
` He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, "No! No! No! For `
` all the world. I wouldn't let you know that terrible story!" `
` `
` Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I `
` thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for `
` something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch of `
` typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and `
` without his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the `
` parcel he realized my meaning. `
` `
` "You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers, my `
` own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed, you will know me `
` better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart `
` in this cause. But, of course, you do not know me, yet, and I must `
` not expect you to trust me so far." `
` `
` He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was right about `
` him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in `
` order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and `
` said, `
` `
` "You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know `
` you. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have known you `
` long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me of you too. `
` May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and `
` hear them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they `
` will not horrify you. Then you will know me better. Dinner will by `
` then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of these `
` documents, and shall be better able to understand certain things." `
` `
` He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and adjusted `
` it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am sure. For it `
` will tell me the other side of a true love episode of which I know one `
` side already. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` DR. SEWARD'S DIARY `
` `
` 29 September.--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan `
` Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without `
` thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce `
` dinner, so I said, "She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait an hour," `
` and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary, `
` when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her `
` eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I `
` have had cause for tears, God knows! But the relief of them was `
` denied me, and now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened by recent `
` tears, went straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could, "I `
` greatly fear I have distressed you." `
` `
` "Oh, no, not distressed me," she replied. "But I have been more `
` touched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, `
` but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of `
` your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one `
` must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I `
` have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now `
` hear your heart beat, as I did." `
` `
` "No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low voice. She `
` laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, "Ah, but they must!" `
` `
` "Must! But why?" I asked. `
` `
` "Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor Lucy's `
` death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle which we have `
` before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all `
` the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the `
` cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to `
` know. But I can see that there are in your record many lights to this `
` dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a `
` certain point, and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 `
` September, how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was `
` being wrought out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night `
` since Professor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more `
` information, and he will be here tomorrow to help us. We need have no `
` secrets amongst us. Working together and with absolute trust, we can `
` surely be stronger than if some of us were in the dark." `
` `
` She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested such `
` courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once to her `
` wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you like in the matter. God `
` forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to learn of, `
`
` `
` The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he `
` said, "pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go `
` to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. `
` Telegraph her en route so that she may be prepared." `
` `
` When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he told me `
` of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a `
` typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby. `
` "Take these," he said, "and study them well. When I have returned you `
` will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on our `
` inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. `
` You will need all your faith, even you who have had such an experience `
` as that of today. What is here told," he laid his hand heavily and `
` gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of `
` the end to you and me and many another, or it may sound the knell of `
` the UnDead who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open `
` mind, and if you can add in any way to the story here told do so, for `
` it is all important. You have kept a diary of all these so strange `
` things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all these `
` together when we meet." He then made ready for his departure and `
` shortly drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, `
` where I arrived about fifteen minutes before the train came in. `
` `
` The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to arrival `
` platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my `
` guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl stepped up to me, and `
` after a quick glance said, "Dr. Seward, is it not?" `
` `
` "And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once, whereupon she held out `
` her hand. `
` `
` "I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but . . ." She `
` stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face. `
` `
` The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for `
` it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a `
` typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I `
` had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting room and a bedroom `
` prepared at once for Mrs. Harker. `
` `
` In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a `
` lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a `
` shudder when we entered. `
` `
` She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, `
` as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my `
` phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance `
` of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they `
` lie open before me. I must get her interested in something, so that I `
` may have an opportunity of reading them. She does not know how `
` precious time is, or what a task we have in hand. I must be careful `
` not to frighten her. Here she is! `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL `
` `
` 29 September.--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward's `
` study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him `
` talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I `
` knocked at the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered. `
` `
` To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite `
` alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the `
` description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much `
` interested. `
` `
` "I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said, "but I stayed at the door `
` as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with you." `
` `
` "Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary." `
` `
` "Your diary?" I asked him in surprise. `
` `
` "Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid his `
` hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted `
` out, "Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something?" `
` `
` "Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train `
` for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his `
` face. `
` `
` "The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it, and as `
` it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be awkward, `
` that is, I mean . . ." He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his `
` embarrassment. `
` `
` "You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died, `
` for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very, `
` very dear to me." `
` `
` To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face, `
` "Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!" `
` `
` "Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me. `
` `
` Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an `
` excuse. At length, he stammered out, "You see, I do not know how to `
` pick out any particular part of the diary." `
` `
` Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said with `
` unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the naivete of `
` a child, "that's quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian!" `
` `
` I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself away that `
` time!" he said. "But do you know that, although I have kept the diary `
` for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any `
` particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up?" `
` `
` By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who `
` attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our knowledge `
` of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, "Then, Dr. Seward, you had `
` better let me copy it out for you on my typewriter." `
` `
` He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, "No! No! No! For `
` all the world. I wouldn't let you know that terrible story!" `
` `
` Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I `
` thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for `
` something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch of `
` typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and `
` without his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the `
` parcel he realized my meaning. `
` `
` "You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers, my `
` own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed, you will know me `
` better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart `
` in this cause. But, of course, you do not know me, yet, and I must `
` not expect you to trust me so far." `
` `
` He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was right about `
` him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in `
` order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and `
` said, `
` `
` "You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know `
` you. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have known you `
` long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me of you too. `
` May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and `
` hear them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they `
` will not horrify you. Then you will know me better. Dinner will by `
` then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of these `
` documents, and shall be better able to understand certain things." `
` `
` He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and adjusted `
` it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am sure. For it `
` will tell me the other side of a true love episode of which I know one `
` side already. `
` `
` `
` `
` `
` DR. SEWARD'S DIARY `
` `
` 29 September.--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan `
` Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without `
` thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce `
` dinner, so I said, "She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait an hour," `
` and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary, `
` when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her `
` eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I `
` have had cause for tears, God knows! But the relief of them was `
` denied me, and now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened by recent `
` tears, went straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could, "I `
` greatly fear I have distressed you." `
` `
` "Oh, no, not distressed me," she replied. "But I have been more `
` touched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, `
` but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of `
` your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No one `
` must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I `
` have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none other need now `
` hear your heart beat, as I did." `
` `
` "No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low voice. She `
` laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, "Ah, but they must!" `
` `
` "Must! But why?" I asked. `
` `
` "Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor Lucy's `
` death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle which we have `
` before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all `
` the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the `
` cylinders which you gave me contained more than you intended me to `
` know. But I can see that there are in your record many lights to this `
` dark mystery. You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a `
` certain point, and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 `
` September, how poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was `
` being wrought out. Jonathan and I have been working day and night `
` since Professor Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more `
` information, and he will be here tomorrow to help us. We need have no `
` secrets amongst us. Working together and with absolute trust, we can `
` surely be stronger than if some of us were in the dark." `
` `
` She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested such `
` courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once to her `
` wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you like in the matter. God `
` forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to learn of, `
`