Reading Help DRACULA by Bram Stoker Ch.13-27
him that memory is everything in such work, that you must be able to `
` put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine `
` some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview. I shall try to `
` record it verbatim. `
` `
` It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a `
` deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and `
` announced "Dr. Van Helsing". `
` `
` I rose and bowed, and he came towards me, a man of medium weight, `
` strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest `
` and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The `
` poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and `
` power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the `
` ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large `
` resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with `
` quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows `
` come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, `
` rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps `
` or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot `
` possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. `
` Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or `
` stern with the man's moods. He said to me, `
` `
` "Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent. `
` `
` "That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented. `
` `
` "It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear `
` child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead that I `
` come." `
` `
` "Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you `
` were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I held out my hand. `
` He took it and said tenderly, `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina, I know that the friend of that poor little girl must `
` be good, but I had yet to learn . . ." He finished his speech with a `
` courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, `
` so he at once began. `
` `
` "I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to `
` begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that `
` you were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary, you need not `
` look surprised, Madam Mina. It was begun after you had left, and was `
` an imitation of you, and in that diary she traces by inference certain `
` things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. `
` In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so `
` much kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember." `
` `
` "I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it." `
` `
` "Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not `
` always so with young ladies." `
` `
` "No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to `
` you if you like." `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina, I well be grateful. You will do me much favour." `
` `
` I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose `
` it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our `
` mouths, so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a `
` grateful bow, and said, "May I read it?" `
` `
` "If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and `
` for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed. `
` `
` "Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I knew long that Mr. Jonathan `
` was a man of much thankfulness, but see, his wife have all the good `
` things. And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read `
` it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." `
` `
` By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed. So I `
` took the typewritten copy from my work basket and handed it to him. `
` `
` "Forgive me," I said. "I could not help it, but I had been thinking `
` that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might `
` not have time to wait, not on my account, but because I know your time `
` must be precious, I have written it out on the typewriter for you." `
` `
` He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And `
` may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have `
` read." `
` `
` "By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch, and then `
` you can ask me questions whilst we eat." `
` `
` He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, `
` and became so absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch `
` chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back, I `
` found him walking hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze `
` with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands. `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This `
` paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am `
` dazzled, with so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light `
` every time. But that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am `
` grateful to you, you so clever woman. Madame," he said this very `
` solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or `
` yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight `
` if I may serve you as a friend, as a friend, but all I have ever `
` learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There `
` are darknesses in life, and there are lights. You are one of the `
` lights. You will have a happy life and a good life, and your husband `
` will be blessed in you." `
` `
` "But, doctor, you praise me too much, and you do not know me." `
` `
` "Not know you, I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and `
` women, I who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to `
` him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you `
` have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every `
` line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your `
` marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women `
` tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such `
` things that angels can read. And we men who wish to know have in us `
` something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are `
` noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean `
` nature. And your husband, tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all `
` that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" `
` `
` I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said, "He was `
` almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins death." `
` `
` He interrupted, "Oh, yes. I know. I know. I have read your last two `
` letters." `
` `
` I went on, "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on `
` Thursday last he had a sort of shock." `
` `
` "A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That is not good. What kind `
` of shock was it?" `
` `
` "He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something `
` which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to `
` overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he `
` experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that `
` has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose `
` I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands `
` to him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my `
` hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me. He `
` held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness, `
` `
` "My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have `
` not had much time for friendships, but since I have been summoned to `
` here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and `
` seen such nobility that I feel more than ever, and it has grown with `
` my advancing years, the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that `
` I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope, hope, `
` not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left `
` to make life happy, good women, whose lives and whose truths may make `
` good lesson for the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I `
` may here be of some use to you. For if your husband suffer, he suffer `
` within the range of my study and experience. I promise you that I `
` will gladly do all for him that I can, all to make his life strong and `
` manly, and your life a happy one. Now you must eat. You are `
` overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband Jonathan would not like `
` to see you so pale, and what he like not where he love, is not to his `
` good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and smile. You have told `
` me about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it distress. `
` I shall stay in Exeter tonight, for I want to think much over what you `
` have told me, and when I have thought I will ask you questions, if I `
` may. And then too, you will tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so `
` far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now, afterwards you shall `
` tell me all." `
` `
` After lunch, when we went back to the drawing room, he said to me, `
` "And now tell me all about him." `
` `
` When it came to speaking to this great learned man, I began to fear `
` that he would think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman, that `
` journal is all so strange, and I hesitated to go on. But he was so `
` sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I `
` said, `
` `
` "Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must `
` not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a `
` sort of fever of doubt. You must be kind to me, and not think me `
` foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things." `
` `
` He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said, "Oh, `
` my dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which I `
` am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think `
` little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have `
` tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life `
` that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, `
` the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane." `
` `
` "Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my `
` mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is `
` long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and `
` Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that `
` happened. I dare not say anything of it. You will read for yourself `
` and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind `
` and tell me what you think." `
` `
` "I promise," he said as I gave him the papers. "I shall in the `
` morning, as soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I `
` may." `
` `
`
` put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine `
` some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview. I shall try to `
` record it verbatim. `
` `
` It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a `
` deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and `
` announced "Dr. Van Helsing". `
` `
` I rose and bowed, and he came towards me, a man of medium weight, `
` strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest `
` and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The `
` poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and `
` power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the `
` ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large `
` resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with `
` quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows `
` come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, `
` rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps `
` or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot `
` possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. `
` Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or `
` stern with the man's moods. He said to me, `
` `
` "Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent. `
` `
` "That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented. `
` `
` "It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear `
` child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead that I `
` come." `
` `
` "Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you `
` were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra." And I held out my hand. `
` He took it and said tenderly, `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina, I know that the friend of that poor little girl must `
` be good, but I had yet to learn . . ." He finished his speech with a `
` courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, `
` so he at once began. `
` `
` "I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to `
` begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that `
` you were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary, you need not `
` look surprised, Madam Mina. It was begun after you had left, and was `
` an imitation of you, and in that diary she traces by inference certain `
` things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. `
` In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so `
` much kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember." `
` `
` "I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it." `
` `
` "Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not `
` always so with young ladies." `
` `
` "No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to `
` you if you like." `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina, I well be grateful. You will do me much favour." `
` `
` I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose `
` it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our `
` mouths, so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a `
` grateful bow, and said, "May I read it?" `
` `
` "If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and `
` for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed. `
` `
` "Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I knew long that Mr. Jonathan `
` was a man of much thankfulness, but see, his wife have all the good `
` things. And will you not so much honour me and so help me as to read `
` it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." `
` `
` By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed. So I `
` took the typewritten copy from my work basket and handed it to him. `
` `
` "Forgive me," I said. "I could not help it, but I had been thinking `
` that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might `
` not have time to wait, not on my account, but because I know your time `
` must be precious, I have written it out on the typewriter for you." `
` `
` He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And `
` may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have `
` read." `
` `
` "By all means," I said, "read it over whilst I order lunch, and then `
` you can ask me questions whilst we eat." `
` `
` He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, `
` and became so absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch `
` chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back, I `
` found him walking hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze `
` with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands. `
` `
` "Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This `
` paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am `
` dazzled, with so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light `
` every time. But that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am `
` grateful to you, you so clever woman. Madame," he said this very `
` solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or `
` yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight `
` if I may serve you as a friend, as a friend, but all I have ever `
` learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There `
` are darknesses in life, and there are lights. You are one of the `
` lights. You will have a happy life and a good life, and your husband `
` will be blessed in you." `
` `
` "But, doctor, you praise me too much, and you do not know me." `
` `
` "Not know you, I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and `
` women, I who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to `
` him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you `
` have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every `
` line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your `
` marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women `
` tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such `
` things that angels can read. And we men who wish to know have in us `
` something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are `
` noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean `
` nature. And your husband, tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all `
` that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" `
` `
` I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said, "He was `
` almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins death." `
` `
` He interrupted, "Oh, yes. I know. I know. I have read your last two `
` letters." `
` `
` I went on, "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on `
` Thursday last he had a sort of shock." `
` `
` "A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That is not good. What kind `
` of shock was it?" `
` `
` "He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something `
` which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to `
` overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he `
` experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that `
` has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose `
` I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands `
` to him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my `
` hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me. He `
` held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness, `
` `
` "My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have `
` not had much time for friendships, but since I have been summoned to `
` here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and `
` seen such nobility that I feel more than ever, and it has grown with `
` my advancing years, the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that `
` I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope, hope, `
` not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left `
` to make life happy, good women, whose lives and whose truths may make `
` good lesson for the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I `
` may here be of some use to you. For if your husband suffer, he suffer `
` within the range of my study and experience. I promise you that I `
` will gladly do all for him that I can, all to make his life strong and `
` manly, and your life a happy one. Now you must eat. You are `
` overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband Jonathan would not like `
` to see you so pale, and what he like not where he love, is not to his `
` good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and smile. You have told `
` me about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it distress. `
` I shall stay in Exeter tonight, for I want to think much over what you `
` have told me, and when I have thought I will ask you questions, if I `
` may. And then too, you will tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so `
` far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now, afterwards you shall `
` tell me all." `
` `
` After lunch, when we went back to the drawing room, he said to me, `
` "And now tell me all about him." `
` `
` When it came to speaking to this great learned man, I began to fear `
` that he would think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman, that `
` journal is all so strange, and I hesitated to go on. But he was so `
` sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I `
` said, `
` `
` "Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must `
` not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a `
` sort of fever of doubt. You must be kind to me, and not think me `
` foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things." `
` `
` He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said, "Oh, `
` my dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which I `
` am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think `
` little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have `
` tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life `
` that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, `
` the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane." `
` `
` "Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my `
` mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is `
` long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and `
` Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that `
` happened. I dare not say anything of it. You will read for yourself `
` and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind `
` and tell me what you think." `
` `
` "I promise," he said as I gave him the papers. "I shall in the `
` morning, as soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I `
` may." `
` `
`