Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “Come,”
he said, “come, we must see and act. Devils
or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters
not. We must fight him all the same.”
He went to the hall door for his bag, and together
we went up to Lucy’s room.
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 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
terrible ordeal.
What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder
if my long habit of life amongst the insane is beginning
to tell upon my own brain.
17 September.—Four days and nights of peace.
I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself.
It is as if I had passed through some long nightmare,
and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine
and feel the fresh air of the morning around me.
I have a dim half remembrance of long, anxious times
of waiting and fearing, darkness in which there was
not even the pain of hope to make present distress
more poignant. And then long spells of oblivion,
and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through
a great press of water. Since, however, Dr.
Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming
seems to have passed away. The noises that used
to frighten me out of my wits, the flapping against
the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close
to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not
where and commanded me to do I know not what, have
all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear
of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake.
I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful
arrives for me every day from Haarlem. Tonight
Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for
a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched.
I am well enough to be left alone.
