No More Learning

There was a delicious irony in the offer,
in the courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. My
companion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after
carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring
one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he
fumbled in his bag, and taking out a match-box and a piece of candle,
proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the daytime, and when wreathed
with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now some
days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whites
turning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and the
beetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discoloured
stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished
brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a
candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have been
imagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life--animal life--was
not the only thing which could pass away.

Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so
that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm
dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he
made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took
out a turnscrew.

"What are you going to do? " I asked.

"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced. " Straightway he began
taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing the
casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemed
to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have
stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took
hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall see," and again
fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrew
through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he
made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point
of the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We
doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to
such things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never
stopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side
of the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking
the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the
coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to
look.

I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.

It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but
Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground,
and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friend
John? " he asked.

I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as
I answered him:

"I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that only
proves one thing. "

"And what is that, friend John? "

"That it is not there. "

"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you--how
can you--account for it not being there? "

"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's people
may have stolen it. " I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it was
the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. "Ah
well! " he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me. "

He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placed
them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the
bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door and
locked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep it? You had
better be assured. " I laughed--it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am
bound to say--as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said;
"there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock
of that kind. " He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he
told me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he could watch
at the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark
figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my
sight.

It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distant
clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled and
unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errand
and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly
observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust; so altogether I had
a dreary, miserable time.

Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white
streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyard
farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from the
Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then
I too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs,
and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far
off an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scattered
juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dim
figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden
by trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard the
rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, and
coming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When
he saw me he held it out to me, and said:--

"Are you satisfied now? "

"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.

"Do you not see the child? "

"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded? " I
asked.

"We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our way
out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.

When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of
trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was
without a scratch or scar of any kind.

"Was I right? " I asked triumphantly.

"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.

We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consulted
about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have to
give some account of our movements during the night; at least, we should
have had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child.
So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when we
heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find
it; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell out
well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp,
and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw
it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of
astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a
cab near the "Spaniards," and drove to town.

I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours'
sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shall
go with him on another expedition.

_27 September. _--It was two o'clock before we found a suitable
opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all completed,
and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken themselves lazily
away, when, looking carefully from behind a clump of alder-trees, we
saw the sexton lock the gate after him. We knew then that we were safe
till morning did we desire it; but the Professor told me that we should
not want more than an hour at most. Again I felt that horrid sense
of the reality of things, in which any effort of imagination seemed
out of place; and I realised distinctly the perils of the law which
we were incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all
so useless. Outrageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if a
woman dead nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the height of
folly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from the evidence of our own
eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I shrugged my shoulders, however,
and rested silent, for Van Helsing had a way of going on his own road,
no matter who remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and
again courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so gruesome
as last night, but oh, how unutterably mean-looking when the sunshine
streamed in. Van Helsing walked over to Lucy's coffin, and I followed.
He bent over and again forced back the leaden flange; and then a shock
of surprise and dismay shot through me.

There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night before her
funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly beautiful than ever; and I
could not believe that she was dead. The lips were red, nay redder than
before; and on the cheeks was a delicate bloom.

"Is this a juggle? " I said to him.

"Are you convinced now? " said the Professor in response, and as he spoke
he put over his hand, and in a way that made me shudder, pulled back the
dead lips and showed the white teeth.

"See," he went on, "see, they are even sharper than before. With this
and this"--and he touched one of the canine teeth and that below
it--"the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now, friend
John? " Once more, argumentative hostility woke within me. I _could_ not
accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested; so, with an attempt to
argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I said:--

"She may have been placed here since last night. "

"Indeed? That is so, and by whom? "

"I do not know. Some one has done it. "

"And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that time would not
look so. " I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not
seem to notice my silence; at any rate, he showed neither chagrin nor
triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the dead woman, raising
the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and once more opening the lips and
examining the teeth. Then he turned to me and said:--

"Here, there is one thing which is different from all recorded: here is
some dual life that is not as the common. She was bitten by the vampire
when she was in a trance, sleep-walking--oh, you start; you do not know
that, friend John, but you shall know it all later--and in trance could
he best come to take more blood. In trance she died, and in trance she
is Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other. Usually when
the Un-Dead sleep at home"--as he spoke he made a comprehensive sweep of
his arm to designate what to a vampire was "home"--"their face show what
they are, but this so sweet that-was when she not Un-Dead she go back to
the nothings of the common dead. There is no malign there, see, and so
it make hard that I must kill her in her sleep. " This turned my blood
cold, and it began to dawn upon me that I was accepting Van Helsing's
theories; but if she were really dead, what was there of terror in the
idea of killing her? He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in
my face, for he said almost joyously:--

"Ah, you believe now? "

I answered: "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am willing to
accept. How will you do this bloody work? "

"I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and I shall
drive a stake through her body. " It made me shudder to think of so
mutilating the body of the woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling
was not so strong as I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning to
shudder at the presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing
called it, and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective,
or all objective?

I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he stood as
if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of his bag with a
snap, and said:--

"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is best. If
I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at this moment, what
is to be done; but there are other things to follow, and things that
are thousand times more difficult in that them we do not know. This is
simple. She have yet no life taken, though that is of time; and to act
now would be to take danger from her for ever. But then we may have
to want Arthur, and how shall we tell him of this? If you, who saw the
wounds on Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so similar on the child's
at the hospital; if you, who saw the coffin empty last night and full
to-day with a woman who have not change only to be more rose and more
beautiful in a whole week after she die--if you know of this and know of
the white figure last night that brought the child to the churchyard,
and yet of your own senses you did not believe, how, then, can I expect
Arthur, who know none of those things, to believe? He doubted me when
I took him from her kiss when she was dying. I know he has forgiven me
because in some mistaken idea I have done things that prevent him say
good-bye as he ought; and he may think that in some more mistaken idea
this woman was buried alive; and that in most mistake of all we have
killed her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that
have killed her by our ideas; and so he will be much unhappy always.
Yet he never can be sure; and that is the worst of all. And he will
sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive, and that will paint
his dreams with horrors of what she must have suffered; and, again, he
will think that we may be right, and that his so beloved was, after all,
an Un-Dead. No! I told him once, and since then I learn much. Now, since
I know it is all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know that he
must pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor fellow,
must have one hour that will make the very face of heaven grow black to
him; then we can act for good all round and send him peace. My mind is
made up. Let us go. You return home for to-night to your asylum, and
see that all be well. As for me, I shall spend the night here in this
churchyard in my own way. To-morrow night you will come to me to the
Berkeley Hotel at ten of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too,
and also that so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later
we shall all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and
there dine, for I must be back here before the sun set. "

So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of the
churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to Piccadilly.


_Note left by Van Helsing in his portmanteau, Berkeley Hotel, directed
to John Seward, M. D. _

(Not delivered. )


"_27 September. _

"Friend John,--

"I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to watch in
that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss Lucy, shall
not leave to-night, that so on the morrow night she may be more
eager. Therefore I shall fix some things she like not--garlic and a
crucifix--and so seal up the door of the tomb. She is young as Un-Dead,
and will heed. Moreover, these are only to prevent her coming out;
they may not prevail on her wanting to get in; for then the Un-Dead is
desperate, and must find the line of least resistance, whatsoever it may
be. I shall be at hand all the night from sunset till after the sunrise,
and if there be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss
Lucy, or from her, I have no fear: but that other to whom is there that
she is Un-Dead, he have now the power to seek her tomb and find shelter.
He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the way that all
along he have fooled us when he played with us for Miss Lucy's life, and
we lost; and in many ways the Un-Dead are strong. He have always the
strength in his hand of twenty men; even we four who gave our strength
to Miss Lucy it also is all to him. Besides, he can summon his wolf
and I know not what. So if it be that he come thither on this night he
shall find me; but none other shall--until it be too late. But it may be
that he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should;
his hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard where the
Un-Dead woman sleep, and one old man watch.

"Therefore I write this in case. . . . Take the papers that are with this,
the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read them, and then find this
great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and burn his heart or drive a stake
though it, so that the world may rest from him.

"If it be so, farewell.

"/Van Helsing. /"


_Dr. Seward's Diary. _

_28 September. _--It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will do for
one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van Helsing's monstrous
ideas; but now they seem to start out lurid before me as outrages on
common sense. I have no doubt that he believes it all. I wonder if his
mind can have become in any way unhinged. Surely there must be _some_
rational explanation of all these mysterious things. Is it possible that
the Professor can have done it himself? He is so abnormally clever that
if he went off his head he would carry out his intent with regard to
some fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loath to think it, and indeed
it would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find that Van
Helsing was mad; but anyhow I shall watch him carefully. I may get some
light on the mystery.

_29 September, morning_. . . . Last night, at a little before ten o'clock,
Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room; he told us all what he
wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to Arthur, as if all
our wills were centred in his. He began by saying that he hoped we would
all come with him too, "for," he said, "there is a grave duty to be
done there.
You were doubtless surprised at my letter? " This query was
directly addressed to Lord Godalming.

"I was. It rather upset me for a bit. There has been so much trouble
around my house of late that I could do without any more. I have been
curious, too, as to what you mean. Quincey and I talked it over; but the
more we talked, the more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself
that I'm about up a tree as to any meaning about anything. "

"Me, too," said Quincey Morris laconically.

"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning, both of
you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way back before he can
even get so far as to begin. "

It was evident that he recognised my return to my old doubting frame of
mind without my saying a word. Then, turning to the other two, he said
with intense gravity:--

"I want your permission to do what I think good this night. It is, I
know, much to ask; and when you know what it is I propose to do you will
know, and only then, how much. Therefore may I ask that you promise me
in the dark, so that afterwards, though you may be angry with me for
a time--I must not disguise from myself the possibility that such may
be--you shall not blame yourselves for anything. "

"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the Professor.
I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest; and that's good
enough for me. "

"I thank you, sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done myself the
honour of counting you one trusting friend, and such endorsement is dear
to me. " He held out a hand, which Quincey took.

Then Arthur spoke out:--

"Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like to 'buy a pig in a poke,' as they
say in Scotland, and if it be anything in which my honour as a gentleman
or my faith as a Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise.
If you can assure me that what you intend does not violate either of
these two, then I give my consent at once; though, for the life of me, I
cannot understand what you are driving at. "

"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask of you
is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of mine, you will
first consider it well and be satisfied that it does not violate your
reservations. "

"Agreed! " said Arthur; "that is only fair. And now that the
_pourparlers_ are over, may I ask what it is we are to do? "

"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the churchyard at
Kingstead. "

Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way:--

"Where poor Lucy is buried? " The Professor bowed. Arthur went on: "And
when there? "

"To enter the tomb! " Arthur stood up.

"Professor, are you in earnest; or is it some monstrous joke? Pardon
me, I see that you are in earnest. " He sat down again, but I could see
that he sat firmly and proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There was
silence until he asked again:--

"And when in the tomb? "

"To open the coffin. "

"This is too much! " he said, angrily rising again. "I am willing to be
patient in all things that are reasonable; but in this--this desecration
of the grave--of one who----" He fairly choked with indignation. The
Professor looked pityingly at him.

"If I could spare you one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I
would. But this night our feet must tread in thorny paths; or later, and
for ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame! "

Arthur looked up with set, white face and said:--

"Take care, sir, take care! "

"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say? " said Van Helsing.
"And then you will at least know the limit of my purpose. Shall I go
on? "

"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.

After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort:--

"Miss Lucy is dead; is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no wrong to
her. But if she be not dead----"

Arthur jumped to his feet.

"Good God! " he cried. "What do you mean? Has there been any mistake; has
she been buried alive? " He groaned in anguish that not even hope could
soften.

"I did not say she was alive, my child; I did not think it. I go no
further than to say that she might be Un-Dead. "

"Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a nightmare, or what
is it? "

"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they
may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on the verge of one. But
I have not done. May I cut off the head of dead Miss Lucy? "

"Heavens and earth, no! " cried Arthur in a storm of passion. "Not for
the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her dead body. Dr.
Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done to you that you should
torture me so? What did that poor, sweet girl do that you should want to
cast such dishonour on her grave? Are you mad that speak such things,
or am I mad that listen to them? Don't dare to think more of such a
desecration; I shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have a
duty to do in protecting her grave from outrage; and, by God, I shall do
it! "

Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been seated, and
said, gravely and sternly:--

"My Lord Godalming, I, too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a
duty to you, a duty to the dead; and, by God, I shall do it! All I ask
you now is that you come with me, that you look and listen; and if
when later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its
fulfilment even than I am, then--then I shall do my duty, whatever it
may seem to me. And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes, I shall
hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and where
you will. " His voice broke a little, and he went on with an accent full
of pity:--

"But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of
acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring
my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that if
the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from you
will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can to
save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so much
of labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land to
do what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and then
to help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her--I am
ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness--I gave what you gave:
the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover,
but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights and
days--before death, after death; and if my death can do her good even
now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely. " He said
this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it.
He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice:--

"Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least I
will go with you and wait. "




CHAPTER XVI.

/Dr. Seward's Diary/--_continued. _


It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the
churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark, with occasional
gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded
across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing
slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb
I looked well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a place
laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself
well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding tended in some
way a counteractent to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and
seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the
difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he
closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin.
Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:--

"You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that
coffin? "

"It was. " The Professor turned to the rest, saying:--

"You hear; and yet there is one who does not believe with me. " He
took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur
looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped
forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or,
at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead,
the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away
again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent.
Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and
recoiled.

The coffin was empty!

For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by
Quincey Morris:--

"Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn't
ask such a thing ordinarily--I wouldn't so dishonour you as to imply a
doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour.
Is this your doing? "

"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor
touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and
I came here--with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which
was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and
saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in
daytime, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John? "

"Yes. "

"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing,
and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came
here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here
all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable
that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic,
which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last
night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away
my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But
bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me
outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be.
So"--here he shut the dark slide of his lantern--"now to the outside. "
He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the
door behind him.

Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror
of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the
brief gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and
passing--like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life; how sweet it
was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay;
how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and
to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city.
Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and
was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning
of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again
to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey
Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and
accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has
to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug
of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a
definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like
thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white
napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like
dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the
mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin
strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its
setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close,
asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near
also, as they too were curious. He answered:--

"I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter. "

"And is that stuff you have put there going to do it? " asked Quincey.
"Great Scott! Is this a game? "

"It is. "

"What is that which you are using? " This time the question was by
Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:--

"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence. " It was an
answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually
that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a
purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it
was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places
assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any
one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself
been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet
I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink
within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress,
or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did
tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so
mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a
woeful presage through the night.

There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from
the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s! " He pointed; and far down the avenue
of yews we saw a white figure advance--a dim white figure, which held
something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a
ray of moonlight fell between the masses of driving clouds and showed in
startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of
the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we
saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry,
such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and
dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen
by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked
the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to
see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as
ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features
of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was
turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous
wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we
all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of
the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the
concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips
were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her
chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.

We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even
Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had
not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.

When Lucy--I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her
shape--saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives
when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form
and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of
the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love
passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have
done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy
light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God,
how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung
to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had
clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls
over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There
was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when
she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile, he fell
back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace,
said:--

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are
hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come! "

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones--something of the
tingling of glass when struck--which rang through the brains even of us
who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under
a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She
was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between
them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a
suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter
the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped as if
arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was
shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now
no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled
malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again
by mortal eyes.