Dracula by Bram Stoker(8)

Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing
went towards the bed. This time he did not start as he
looked on the poor face with the same awful, waxen
pallor as before. He wore a look of stern sadness and
infinite pity.
‘As I expected,’ he murmured, with that hissing
inspiration of his which meant so much. Without a word
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he went and locked the door, and then began to set out
on the little table the instruments for yet another operation
of transfusion of blood. I had long ago recognized the
necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped
me with a warning hand. ‘No!’ he said. ‘Today you must
operate. I shall provide. You are weakened already.’ As he
spoke he took off his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve.
Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some
return of colour to the ashy cheeks, and the regular
breathing of healthy sleep. This time I watched whilst Van
Helsing recruited himself and rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs.
Westenra that she must not remove anything from Lucy’s
room without consulting him. That the flowers were of
medicinal value, and that the breathing of their odour was
a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care of
the case himself, saying that he would watch this night and
the next, and would send me word when to come.
After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh
and bright and seemingly not much the worse for her

Dracula by Bram Stoker(7)

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.’
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LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR

Dracula by Bram Stoker(6)

heroic. I think that some day the bishops must get
together and see about breeding up a new class of curates,
who don’t take supper, no matter how hard they may be
pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired.
Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour
in her cheeks than usual, and looks, oh so sweet. If Mr.
Holmwood fell in love with her seeing her only in the
drawing room, I wonder what he would say if he saw her
now. Some of the ‘New Women’ writers will some day
start an idea that men and women should be allowed to
see each other asleep before proposing or accepting. But I
suppose the ‘New Woman’ won’t condescend in future to
accept. She will do the proposing herself. And a nice job
she will make of it too! There’s some consolation in that. I
am so happy tonight, because dear Lucy seems better. I
really believe she has turned the corner, and that we are
over her troubles with dreaming. I should be quite happy
if I only knew if Jonathan … God bless and keep him.
11 August.—Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as
well write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such
an adventure, such an agonizing experience. I fell asleep as
soon as I had closed my diary. … Suddenly I became
broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon
me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The
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room was dark, so I could not see Lucy’s bed. I stole
across and felt for her. The bed was empty. I lit a match
and found that she was not in the room. The door was
shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her
mother, who has been more than usually ill lately, so
threw on some clothes and got ready to look for her. As I
was leaving the room it struck me that the clothes she

Dracula by Bram Stoker(5)

My homicidal maniac is of a peculiar kind. I shall have
to invent a new classification for him, and call him a
zoophagous (life-eating) maniac. What he desires is to
absorb as many lives as he can, and he has laid himself out
to achieve it in a cumulative way. He gave many flies to
one spider and many spiders to one bird, and then wanted
a cat to eat the many birds. What would have been his
later steps?
It would almost be worth while to complete the
experiment. It might be done if there were only a
sufficient cause. Men sneered at vivisection, and yet look
at its results today! Why not advance science in its most
difficult and vital aspect, the knowledge of the brain?
Had I even the secret of one such mind, did I hold the
key to the fancy of even one lunatic, I might advance my
own branch of science to a pitch compared with which
Burdon-Sanderson’s physiology or Ferrier’s brain
knowledge would be as nothing. If only there were a
sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I
may be tempted. A good cause might turn the scale with
me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain,
congenitally?
How well the man reasoned. Lunatics always do within
their own scope. I wonder at how many lives he values a
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