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1"So! You are physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast;
2and, oh, sir, you will pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife." I would listen to him go on
3praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded and stood silent. "She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to
4show 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,
5so sweet, so noble, so little an egoist--and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and selfish. And
6you, 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
7from the knowing of others; but I have seen your true self since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not?
8And 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.
9"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.
10You can help me here. Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? Later on I may ask more help, and of
11a different kind; but at first this will do." "Look here, sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the Count?"
12"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
13read them; but I shall get the bundle of papers. You can take them with you and read them in the train." After breakfast
14I saw him to the station. When we were parting he said:-- "Perhaps you will come to town if I send to you, and take
15Madam Mina too." "We shall both come when you will," I said. I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of
16the previous night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the train to start, he was turning
17them over. His eyes suddenly seemed to catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette"--I knew it by the
18colour--and he grew quite white. He read something intently, groaning to himself: "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! so
19soon!" I do not think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and the train moved off. This recalled
20him to himself, and he leaned out of the window and waved his hand, calling out: "Love to Madam Mina; I shall write so
21soon as ever I can." Dr. Seward's Diary. 26 September.--Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week since I
22said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I
23had no cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was. He was already well
24ahead 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
25had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris
26is 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,
27and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to them all my mind is at
28rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might
29fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is, however, now
30reopened; and what is to be the end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but he will
31only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came
32back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette"
33into 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
34really did not know what he meant; but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed away
35at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it described small punctured wounds on their
36throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said. "It is like poor Lucy's." "And what do you make of it?"
37"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured her has injured them." I did not quite
38understand his answer:-- "That is true indirectly, but not directly." "How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a
39little inclined to take his seriousness lightly--for, after all, four days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing
40anxiety does help to restore one's spirits--but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our
41despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern. "Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to
42think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture." "Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no
43suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of; not after all the hints given, not only by events, but by me?" "Of nervous
44prostration following on great loss or waste of blood." "And how the blood lost or waste?" I shook my head. He stepped
45over and sat down beside me, and went on:-- "You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is bold; but
46you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is
47not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some
48people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men's eyes,
49because they know--or think they know--some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science
50that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us
51every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be
52young--like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in
53materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism----"
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