Atlas Nightshade

Day 44

"Thank you, thank you, a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my

mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is long,

but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and

Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that

happened. I dare not say anything of it; you will read for yourself and

judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and tell

me what you think."

"I promise," he said as I gave him the papers; "I shall in the morning,

so soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I may."

"Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch

with us and see him then; you could catch the quick 3:34 train, which

will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was surprised at my

knowledge of the trains off-hand, but he does not know that I have made

up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in

case he is in a hurry.

So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here

thinking--thinking I don't know what.

* * * * *

_Letter (by hand), Van Helsing to Mrs. Harker._

"_25 September, 6 o'clock._

"Dear Madam Mina,--

"I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may sleep without

doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is _true_! I will pledge my

life on it. It may be worse for others; but for him and you there is no

dread. He is a noble fellow; and let me tell you from experience of men,

that one who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that

room--ay, and going a second time--is not one to be injured in

permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart are all right; this I

swear, before I have even seen him; so be at rest. I shall have much to

ask him of other things. I am blessed that to-day I come to see you, for

I have learn all at once so much that again I am dazzle--dazzle more

than ever, and I must think.

"Yours the most faithful,

"ABRAHAM VAN HELSING."

_Letter, Mrs. Harker to Van Helsing._

"_25 September, 6:30 p. m._

"My dear Dr. Van Helsing,--

"A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a great weight

off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in

the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really

in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a

wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night from

Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear

to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come

to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too early for you? You can

get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring

you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that,

if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast.

"Believe me,

"Your faithful and grateful friend,

"MINA HARKER."

_Jonathan Harker's Journal._

_26 September._--I thought never to write in this diary again, but the

time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and

when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her having

given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been

about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I wrote down was

true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the doubt as to the

reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in

the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I _know_, I am not afraid, even

of the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design in getting

to London, and it was he I saw. He has got younger, and how? Van Helsing

is the man to unmask him and hunt him out, if he is anything like what

Mina says. We sat late, and talked it all over. Mina is dressing, and I

shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him over....

He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room where he

was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned my

face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny:--

"But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock." It was

so funny to hear my wife called "Madam Mina" by this kindly,

strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said:--

"I _was_ ill, I _have_ had a shock; but you have cured me already."

"And how?"

"By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then everything

took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, even the

evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to trust, I did not know

what to do; and so had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been

the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I mistrusted

myself. Doctor, you don't know what it is to doubt everything, even

yourself. No, you don't; you couldn't with eyebrows like yours." He

seemed pleased, and laughed as he said:--

"So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with

so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast; and, oh, sir, you will

pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife." I

would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded

and stood silent.

"She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and

other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its

light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an

egoist--and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and

selfish. And you, sir--I have read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy,

and some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days from the

knowing of others; but I have seen your true self since last night. You

will give me your hand, will you not? And let us be friends for all our

lives."

We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me quite

choky.

"And now," he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a great

task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me here.

Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? Later on I

may ask more help, and of a different kind; but at first this will do."

"Look here, sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the Count?"

"It does," he said solemnly.

"Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you

will not have time to read them; but I shall get the bundle of papers.

You can take them with you and read them in the train."

After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he

said:--

"Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take Madam Mina

too."

"We shall both come when you will," I said.

I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous

night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the

train to start, he was turning them over. His eyes suddenly seemed to

catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette"--I knew it by

the colour--and he grew quite white. He read something intently,

groaning to himself: "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! so soon!" I do not

think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and

the train moved off. This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of

the window and waved his hand, calling out: "Love to Madam Mina; I shall

write so soon as ever I can."

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_26 September._--Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week

since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather

going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to

think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as

he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business; and he had

just started in the spider line also; so he had not been of any trouble

to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I

gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with

him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of

good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that

Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to

them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my

work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might

fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming

cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened; and what is to be the

end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows,

too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He

went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came

back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock,

and thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand.

"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his

arms.

I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant; but he

took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed

away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a

passage where it described small punctured wounds on their throats. An

idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said.