and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard
this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death. And he has
been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late--Lucy s mother
and Arthur s father, and now.... Let me get on with my work.
I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur to
go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told him
that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we must not
all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, that he agreed
to go. Van Helsing was very kind to him. Come, my child, he said;
come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much
mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You
must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms.
Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two
sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will
be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we
sleep. Arthur went off with him, casting back a longing look on Lucy s
face, which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay
quite still, and I looked round the room to see that all was as it
should be. I could see that the Professor had carried out in this room,
as in the other, his purpose of using the garlic; the whole of the
window-sashes reeked with it, and round Lucy s neck, over the silk
handkerchief which Van Helsing made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of
the same odorous flowers. Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and
her face was at its worst, for the open mouth showed the pale gums. Her
teeth, in the dim, uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they
had been in the morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the
canine teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her,
and presently she moved uneasily. At the same moment there came a sort
of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I went over to it softly,
and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There was a full moonlight,
and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled
round--doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim--and every now
and again struck the window with its wings. When I came back to my seat,
I found that Lucy had moved slightly, and had torn away the garlic
flowers from her throat. I replaced them as well as I could, and sat
watching her.
Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had prescribed.
She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not seem to be with
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