“I shall not wait for any opportunity,” said Morris. “When I see the box I shall open it and destroy the monster, though there were a thousand men looking on, and if I am to be wiped out for it the next moment!”
I grasped his hand instinctively and found it as firm as a piece of steel.
I think he understood my look; I hope he did.
“Good boy,” said Dr. Van Helsing. “Brave boy. Quincey is all man. God bless him for it.
My child, believe me none of us shall lag behind or pause from any fear.
I do but say what we may do—what we must do.
But, indeed, indeed we cannot say what we shall do.
There are so many things which may happen, and their ways and their ends are so various that until the moment we may not say.
We shall all be armed, in all ways; and when the time for the end has come, our effort shall not be lack.
Now let us to-day put all our affairs in order. Let all things which touch on others dear to us, and who on us depend, be complete; for none of us can tell what, or when, or how, the end may be.
As for me, my own affairs are regulate; and as I have nothing else to do, I shall go make arrangements for the travel.
I shall have all tickets and so forth for our journey.”
There was nothing further to be said, and we parted.
I shall now settle up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for whatever may come....
Later.—It is all done; my will is made, and all complete.
Mina if she survive is my sole heir.
If it should not be so, then the others who have been so good to us shall have remainder.
It is now drawing towards the sunset; Mina’s uneasiness calls my attention to it.
I am sure that there is something on her mind which the time of exact sunset will reveal.
These occasions are becoming harrowing times for us all, for each sunrise and sunset opens up some new danger—some new pain, which, however, may in God’s will be means to a good end.
I write all these things in the diary since my darling must not hear them now; but if it may be that she can see them again, they shall be ready.
She is calling to me.
CHAPTER XXV
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY
11 October, Evening.—Jonathan Harker has asked me to note this, as he says he is hardly equal to the task, and he wants an exact record kept.
I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked to see Mrs. Harker a little before the time of sunset.
We have of late come to understand that sunrise and sunset are to her times of peculiar freedom; when her old self can be manifest without any controlling force subduing or restraining her, or inciting her to action.
This mood or condition begins some half hour or more before actual sunrise or sunset, and lasts till either the sun is high, or whilst the clouds are still aglow with the rays streaming above the horizon.
At first there is a sort of negative condition, as if some tie were loosened, and then the absolute freedom quickly follows; when, however, the freedom ceases the change-back or relapse comes quickly, preceded only by a spell of warning silence.
To-night, when we met, she was somewhat constrained, and bore all the signs of an internal struggle.
I put it down myself to her making a violent effort at the earliest instant she could do so.
A very few minutes, however, gave her complete control of herself; then, motioning her husband to sit beside her on the sofa where she was half reclining, she made the rest of us bring chairs up close.
Taking her husband’s hand in hers began:—
“We are all here together in freedom, for perhaps the last time!
I know, dear; I know that you will always be with me to the end.” This was to her husband whose hand had, as we could see, tightened upon hers. “In the morning we go out upon our task, and God alone knows what may be in store for any of us.
You are going to be so good to me as to take me with you.
I know that all that brave earnest men can do for a poor weak woman, whose soul perhaps is lost—no, no, not yet, but is at any rate at stake—you will do.
But you must remember that I am not as you are.
There is a poison in my blood, in my soul, which may destroy me; which must destroy me, unless some relief comes to us.
Oh, my friends, you know as well as I do, that my soul is at stake; and though I know there is one way out for me, you must not and I must not take it!”
She looked appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with her husband.
“What is that way?” asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice. “What is that way, which we must not—may not—take?”
“That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of another, before the greater evil is entirely wrought.
I know, and you know, that were I once dead you could and would set free my immortal spirit, even as you did my poor Lucy’s.
Were death, or the fear of death, the only thing that stood in the way I would not shrink to die here, now, amidst the friends who love me.
But death is not all.
I cannot believe that to die in such a case, when there is hope before us and a bitter task to be done, is God’s will.
Therefore, I, on my part, give up here the certainty of eternal rest, and go out into the dark where may be the blackest things that the world or the nether world holds!”
We were all silent, for we knew instinctively that this was only a prelude.
The faces of the others were set and Harker’s grew ashen grey; perhaps he guessed better than any of us what was coming.