The time did not seem long, but very, very awful,
till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere
near, a passing bell was tolling. The dogs all
round the neighbourhood were howling, and in our shrubbery,
seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing.
I was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weakness,
but the sound of the nightingale seemed like the voice
of my dead mother come back to comfort me. The
sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for
I could hear their bare feet pattering outside my
door. I called to them, and they came in, and
when they saw what had happened, and what it was that
lay over me on the bed, they screamed out. The
wind rushed in through the broken window, and the door
slammed to. They lifted off the body of my dear
mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on
the bed after I had got up. They were all so
frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to
the dining room and each have a glass of wine.
The door flew open for an instant and closed again.
The maids shrieked, and then went in a body to the
dining room, and I laid what flowers I had on my dear
mother’s breast. When they were there I
remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I
didn’t like to remove them, and besides, I would
have some of the servants to sit up with me now.
I was surprised that the maids did not come back.
I called them, but got no answer, so I went to the
dining room to look for them.
My heart sank when I saw what had happened.
They all four lay helpless on the floor, breathing
heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table
half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about.
I was suspicious, and examined the decanter.
It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the sideboard,
I found that the bottle which Mother’s doctor
uses for her—oh! did use—was
empty. What am I to do? What am I to do?
I am back in the room with Mother. I cannot
leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants,
whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead!
I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the
wolf through the broken window.
The air seems full of specks, floating and circling
in the draught from the window, and the lights burn
blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield
me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper
in my breast, where they shall find it when they come
to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It
is time that I go too. Goodbye, dear Arthur,
if I should not survive this night. God keep
you, dear, and God help me!
