Atlas Nightshade

Day 40

Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken; even his stalwart

manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his

much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly

attached to his father; and to lose him, and at such a time, was a

bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he

was sweetly courteous; but I could not help seeing that there was some

constraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too, and motioned me to

bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as I

felt he would like to be quite alone with her, but he took my arm and

led me in, saying huskily:--

"You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it, and there was

no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I don't know how to

thank you for all you have done for her. I can't think yet...."

Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders and

laid his head on my breast, crying:--

"Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do! The whole of life seems gone from me

all at once, and there is nothing in the wide world for me to live for."

I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need much

expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over the

shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man's

heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and then I said

softly to him:--

"Come and look at her."

Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her face.

God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing her

loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat; and as for Arthur, he

fell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague. At

last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper:--

"Jack, is she really dead?"

I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest--for I felt

that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer than

I could help--that it often happened that after death faces became

softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty; that this was

especially so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged

suffering. It seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and, after

kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her lovingly and

long, he turned aside. I told him that that must be good-bye, as the

coffin had to be prepared; so he went back and took her dead hand in his

and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away,

fondly looking back over his shoulder at her as he came.

I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that he had said

good-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's men

to proceed with the preparations and to screw up the coffin. When he

came out of the room again I told him of Arthur's question, and he

replied:--

"I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment myself!"

We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to make

the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner-time; but

when we had lit our cigars he said--

"Lord----"; but Arthur interrupted him:--

"No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir:

I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my loss is so

recent."

The Professor answered very sweetly:--

"I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you

'Mr.,' and I have grown to love you--yes, my dear boy, to love you--as

Arthur."

Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly.

"Call me what you will," he said. "I hope I may always have the title of

a friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you for

your goodness to my poor dear." He paused a moment, and went on: "I know

that she understood your goodness even better than I do; and if I was

rude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so--you remember"--the

Professor nodded--"you must forgive me."

He answered with a grave kindness:--

"I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to trust such

violence needs to understand; and I take it that you do not--that you

cannot--trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may be

more times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot--and may

not--and must not yet understand. But the time will come when your trust

shall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall understand as

though the sunlight himself shone through. Then you shall bless me from

first to last for your own sake, and for the sake of others and for her

dear sake to whom I swore to protect."

"And, indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly, "I shall in all ways

trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you are

Jack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like."

The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to

speak, and finally said:--

"May I ask you something now?"

"Certainly."

"You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?"

"No, poor dear; I never thought of it."

"And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. I

want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's papers and

letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of which,

be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I took them

before we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touch

them--no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep

them, if I may; even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep them

safe. No word shall be lost; and in the good time I shall give them back

to you. It's a hard thing I ask, but you will do it, will you not, for

Lucy's sake?"

Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:--

"Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that in saying this I

am doing what my dear one would have approved. I shall not trouble you

with questions till the time comes."

The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly:--

"And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it will not be

all pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and you too--you most of

all, my dear boy--will have to pass through the bitter water before we

reach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our

duty, and all will be well!"

I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did not go to

bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house, and was

never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with

the wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose,

a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

_Mina Harker's Journal._

_22 September._--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping.

It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how much

between then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away and

no news of him; and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a

partner, rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and

Jonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask me

about it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand--see what

unexpected prosperity does for us--so it may be as well to freshen it up

again with an exercise anyhow....

The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only ourselves

and the servants there, one or two old friends of his from Exeter, his

London agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John Paxton, the

President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand in

hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us....

We came back to town quietly, taking a 'bus to Hyde Park Corner.

Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, so

we sat down; but there were very few people there, and it was

sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us think

of the empty chair at home; so we got up and walked down Piccadilly.

Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in old days

before I went to school. I felt it very improper, for you can't go on

for some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the

pedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it was Jonathan, and he

was my husband, and we didn't know anybody who saw us--and we didn't

care if they did--so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautiful

girl, in a big cart-wheel hat, sitting in a victoria outside Guiliano's,

when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he said

under his breath: "My God!" I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I

fear that some nervous fit may upset him again; so I turned to him

quickly, and asked him what it was that disturbed him.

He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror and

half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose and

black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the pretty

girl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either of us,

and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good face; it was

hard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth, that looked all

the whiter because his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal's.

Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would notice. I

feared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. I asked

Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently thinking that

I knew as much about it as he did: "Do you see who it is?"

"No, dear," I said; "I don't know him; who is it?" His answer seemed to

shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it was

to me, Mina, to whom he was speaking:--

"It is the man himself!"