Читать книгу Dracula - Брэм Стокер, Bram Stoker, John Edgar Browning - Страница 11

Same day, n o’clock p. m. Oh, but I am tired \ If it were not

that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it to-night.

We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits,

owing, I think, to some dear cows who came nosing towards us in

a field close to the lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us.

I believe we forgot everything except, of course, personal fear,

and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start.

We had a capital" severe tea» at Robin Hood’s Bay in a sweet

little old-fashioned inn, with a bow-window right over the

seaweed-covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have

shocked the «New Woman» with our appetites. Men are more

tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather

many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant

dread of wild bulls. Lucy was really tired, and we intended to

creep off to bed as soon as we could. The young curate came in,

however, and Mrs. Westenra asked him to stay for supper. Lucy

and I had both a fight for it with the dusty miller; I know it was

a hard fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I think that some

day the bishops must get together and see about breeding up a

new class of curates, who don’t take supper, no matter how the>

may be pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired. Luc}

is asleep and breathing softly. She has more colour in her cheek

than usual, and looks, oh, so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in lov

with her seeing her only in the drawing-room, I wonder what h

would say if he saw her now. Some of the «New Women" writer

will some day start an idea that men and women should

allowed to see each other asleep before proposing or accepting

But I suppose the New Woman won’t condescend in future t

accept; she will do the proposing herself. And a nice job she wi

make of it, too! There’s some consolation in that. I am so happ

to-night, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe sh

has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles wit

dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jonathan..

God bless and keep him.

84

Mina Murray’s Journal 8$

ii August, 3 a. m. Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as

well write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an ad-

venture, such an agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I

had closed my diary…. Suddenly I became broad awake, and

sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon me, and of some feeling

of emptiness around me. The room was dark, so I could not see

^ucy’s bed; I stole across and felt for her. The bed was empty. I

it a match and found that she was not in the room. The door was

shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother,

who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some

clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room

t struck me that the clothes she wore might give me some clue

to her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean house-,

dress, outside. Dressing-gown and dress were both in their places.

«Thank God,» I said to myself, «she cannot be far, as she is

only in her nightdress.» I ran downstairs and looked in the

sitting-room. Not there! Then I looked in all the other open

rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear chilling my heart.

Finally I came to the hall door and found it open. It was not

wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The people

of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I feared

that Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to

think of what might happen; a vague, overmastering fear ob-

scured all details. I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The

clock was striking one as I was in the Crescent, and there was not

a soul in sight. I ran along the North Terrace, but could see no

sign of the white figure which I expected. At the edge of the West

Cliff above the pier I looked across the harbour to the East Cliff,

in the hope or fear I don’t know which of seeing Lucy in our

favourite seat. There was a bright full moon, with heavy black,

driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a fleeting dio-

rama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or

two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured

St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I

could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge

of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along,

the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. What-

ever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on

our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-

reclining figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too

quick for me to see much, for shadow shut down on light almost

’immediately; but it seemed to me as though something dark

stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over

86 Dracula

it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not

wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps

to the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was

the only way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead,

for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted no

witness of poor Lucy’s condition. The time and distance seemed

endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came laboured

as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have gone

fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with

lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I

got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for

I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells

of shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black,

bending over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright,

«Lucy! Lucy!» and something raised a head, and from where I

was I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did

not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As

I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a