All night long I watched by her. She never stirred,
but slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving,
health-giving sleep. Her lips were slightly
parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity
of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face,
and it was evident that no bad dreams had come to
disturb her peace of mind.
In the early morning her maid came, and I left her
in her care and took myself back home, for I was anxious
about many things. I sent a short wire to Van
Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent
result of the operation. My own work, with its
manifold arrears, took me all day to clear off.
It was dark when I was able to inquire about my zoophagous
patient. The report was good. He had been
quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram
came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at
dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham
tonight, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating
that he was leaving by the night mail and would join
me early in the morning.
9 September.—I was pretty tired and worn
out when I got to Hillingham. For two nights
I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my brain was
beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral
exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits.
When she shook hands with me she looked sharply in
my face and said,
“No sitting up tonight for you. You are
worn out. I am quite well again. Indeed,
I am, and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I
who will sit up with you.”
I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper.
Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming
presence, I made an excellent meal, and had a couple
of glasses of the more than excellent port. Then
Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next her
own, where a cozy fire was burning.
“Now,” she said. “You must
stay here. I shall leave this door open and
my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know
that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go
to bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon.
If I want anything I shall call out, and you can
come to me at once.”
I could not but acquiesce, for I was dog tired, and
could not have sat up had I tried. So, on her
renewing her promise to call me if she should want
anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about
everything.
LUCY WESTENRA’S DIARY
9 September.—I feel so happy tonight.
I have been so miserably weak, that to be able to
think and move about is like feeling sunshine after
a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky.
Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me.
I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I
suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish
things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves,
whilst health and strength give love rein, and in
thought and feeling he can wander where he wills.
I know where my thoughts are. If only Arthur
knew! My dear, my dear, your ears must tingle
as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful
rest of last night! How I slept, with that dear,
good Dr. Seward watching me. And tonight I shall
not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and within
call. Thank everybody for being so good to me.
Thank God! Goodnight Arthur.
