As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet, almost
tearing his hand from hers as he spoke.
“May God give him into my hand just for long
enough to destroy that earthly life of him which we
are aiming at. If beyond it I could send his
soul forever and ever to burning hell I would do it!”
“Oh, hush! Oh, hush in the name of the
good God. Don’t say such things, Jonathan,
my husband, or you will crush me with fear and horror.
Just think, my dear . . . I have been thinking
all this long, long day of it . . . that . . . perhaps
. . . some day . . . I, too, may need such pity,
and that some other like you, and with equal cause
for anger, may deny it to me! Oh, my husband!
My husband, indeed I would have spared you such a
thought had there been another way. But I pray
that God may not have treasured your wild words, except
as the heart-broken wail of a very loving and sorely
stricken man. Oh, God, let these poor white
hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who
all his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many
sorrows have come.”
We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting
them, and we wept openly. She wept, too, to
see that her sweeter counsels had prevailed.
Her husband flung himself on his knees beside her,
and putting his arms round her, hid his face in the
folds of her dress. Van Helsing beckoned to us
and we stole out of the room, leaving the two loving
hearts alone with their God.
Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room
against any coming of the Vampire, and assured Mrs.
Harker that she might rest in peace. She tried
to school herself to the belief, and manifestly for
her husband’s sake, tried to seem content.
It was a brave struggle, and was, I think and believe,
not without its reward. Van Helsing had placed
at hand a bell which either of them was to sound in
case of any emergency. When they had retired,
Quincey, Godalming, and I arranged that we should
sit up, dividing the night between us, and watch over
the safety of the poor stricken lady. The first
watch falls to Quincey, so the rest of us shall be
off to bed as soon as we can.
Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second
watch. Now that my work is done I, too, shall
go to bed.
3-4 October, close to midnight.—I thought
yesterday would never end. There was over me
a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind belief
that to wake would be to find things changed, and that
any change must now be for the better. Before
we parted, we discussed what our next step was to
be, but we could arrive at no result. All we
knew was that one earth box remained, and that the
Count alone knew where it was. If he chooses
to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years. And
in the meantime, the thought is too horrible, I dare
not think of it even now. This I know, that
if ever there was a woman who was all perfection,
