Atlas Nightshade

Day 55

"I don't quite see the drift of it; but you people are all so good and

kind, and have been working so earnestly and so energetically, that all

I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold and try to help you. I have

had one lesson already in accepting facts that should make a man humble

to the last hour of his life. Besides, I know you loved my poor Lucy--"

Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could hear

the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy, just laid

a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked quietly out of the

room. I suppose there is something in woman's nature that makes a man

free to break down before her and express his feelings on the tender or

emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his manhood; for when

Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down on the sofa and

gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I

hope he didn't think it forward of me, and that if he ever thinks of it

afterwards he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him; I

_know_ he never will--he is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for I

could see that his heart was breaking:--

"I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to

her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let

me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have

had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can

help in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service--for

Lucy's sake?"

In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief. It seemed

to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found a

vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat

his palms together in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat

down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinite

pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his

head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with

emotion.

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above

smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big

sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby

that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he

were my own child. I never thought at the time how strange it all was.

After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an

apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me that for

days and nights past--weary days and sleepless nights--he had been

unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of

sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or with

whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow was

surrounded, he could speak freely. "I know now how I suffered," he said,

as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet--and none other can

ever know--how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall

know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful

now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be

like a brother, will you not, for all our lives--for dear Lucy's sake?"

"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands. "Ay, and for your

own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and gratitude are ever worth

the winning, you have won mine to-day. If ever the future should bring

to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me, you will not call

in vain. God grant that no such time may ever come to you to break the

sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come, promise me that you

will let me know." He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that

I felt it would comfort him, so I said:--

"I promise."

As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window.

He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he said. Then noticing

my red eyes, he went on: "Ah, I see you have been comforting him. Poor

old fellow! he needs it. No one but a woman can help a man when he is in

trouble of the heart; and he had no one to comfort him."

He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I saw the

manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would realise

how much I knew; so I said to him:--

"I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me

be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You

will know, later on, why I speak." He saw that I was in earnest, and

stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed

but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I

bent over and kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a

momentary choking in his throat; he said quite calmly:--

"Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so long

as ever you live!" Then he went into the study to his friend.

"Little girl!"--the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he

proved himself a friend!

CHAPTER XVIII

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY

_30 September._--I got home at five o'clock, and found that Godalming

and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript

of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife

had made and arranged. Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the

carriers' men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave

us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time since I

have lived in it, this old house seemed like _home_. When we had

finished, Mrs. Harker said:--

"Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr.

Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary

interests me so much!" She looked so appealing and so pretty that I

could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should; so

I took her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a

lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered: "Why?"

"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it," I

answered. "Oh, very well," he said; "let her come in, by all means; but

just wait a minute till I tidy up the place." His method of tidying was

peculiar: he simply swallowed all the flies and spiders in the boxes

before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared, or was

jealous of, some interference. When he had got through his disgusting

task, he said cheerfully: "Let the lady come in," and sat down on the

edge of his bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised so that

he could see her as she entered. For a moment I thought that he might

have some homicidal intent; I remembered how quiet he had been just

before he attacked me in my own study, and I took care to stand where I

could seize him at once if he attempted to make a spring at her. She

came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would at once command

the respect of any lunatic--for easiness is one of the qualities mad

people most respect. She walked over to him, smiling pleasantly, and

held out her hand.

"Good-evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you, for Dr.

Seward has told me of you." He made no immediate reply, but eyed her all

over intently with a set frown on his face. This look gave way to one

of wonder, which merged in doubt; then, to my intense astonishment, he

said:--

"You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be,

you know, for she's dead." Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied:--

"Oh no! I have a husband of my own, to whom I was married before I ever

saw Dr. Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward."

"Then don't stay."

"But why not?" I thought that this style of conversation might not be

pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined in:--

"How did you know I wanted to marry any one?" His reply was simply

contemptuous, given in a pause in which he turned his eyes from Mrs.

Harker to me, instantly turning them back again:--

"What an asinine question!"

"I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield," said Mrs. Harker, at once

championing me. He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as

he had shown contempt to me:--

"You will, of course, understand, Mrs. Harker, that when a man is so

loved and honoured as our host is, everything regarding him is of

interest in our little community. Dr. Seward is loved not only by his

household and his friends, but even by his patients, who, being some of

them hardly in mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and

effects. Since I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I

cannot but notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates

lean towards the errors of _non causa_ and _ignoratio elenchi_." I

positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was my own pet

lunatic--the most pronounced of his type that I had ever met

with--talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner of a polished

gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's presence which had touched

some chord in his memory. If this new phase was spontaneous, or in any

way due to her unconscious influence, she must have some rare gift or

power.

We continued to talk for some time; and, seeing that he was seemingly

quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me questioningly as she

began, to lead him to his favourite topic. I was again astonished, for

he addressed himself to the question with the impartiality of the

completest sanity; he even took himself as an example when he mentioned

certain things.

"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange belief. Indeed,

it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed, and insisted on my being

put under control. I used to fancy that life was a positive and

perpetual entity, and that by consuming a multitude of live things, no

matter how low in the scale of creation, one might indefinitely prolong

life. At times I held the belief so strongly that I actually tried to

take human life. The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I

tried to kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers by

the assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of his

blood--relying, of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, 'For the blood is

the life.' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain nostrum has

vulgarised the truism to the very point of contempt. Isn't that true,

doctor?" I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what to

either think or say; it was hard to imagine that I had seen him eat up

his spiders and flies not five minutes before. Looking at my watch, I

saw that I should go to the station to meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs.

Harker that it was time to leave. She came at once, after saying

pleasantly to Mr. Renfield: "Good-bye, and I hope I may see you often,

under auspices pleasanter to yourself," to which, to my astonishment, he

replied:--

"Good-bye, my dear. I pray God I may never see your sweet face again.

May He bless and keep you!"

When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the boys behind

me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been since Lucy first took

ill, and Quincey is more like his own bright self than he has been for

many a long day.