Oh, why must a man like that be made unhappy when there are lots of girls about who would worship the very ground he trod on?
I know I would if I were free—only I don’t want to be free.
My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don’t wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.
“Ever your loving
“Lucy.
“P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn’t tell you of number Three, need I?
Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me.
I am very, very happy, and I don’t know what I have done to deserve it.
I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.
“Good-bye.”
Dr. Seward’s Diary. (Kept in phonograph)
25 May.—Ebb tide in appetite to-day.
Cannot eat, cannot rest, so diary instead.
Since my rebuff of yesterday I have a sort of empty feeling; nothing in the world seems of sufficient importance to be worth the doing.... As I knew that the only cure for this sort of thing was work, I went down amongst the patients.
I picked out one who has afforded me a study of much interest.
He is so quaint that I am determined to understand him as well as I can.
To-day I seemed to get nearer than ever before to the heart of his mystery.
I questioned him more fully than I had ever done, with a view to making myself master of the facts of his hallucination. In my manner of doing it there was, I now see, something of cruelty.
I seemed to wish to keep him to the point of his madness—a thing which I avoid with the patients as I would the mouth of hell. (Mem., under what circumstances would I not avoid the pit of hell?) Omnia Rom? venalia sunt.
Hell has its price! verb. sap.
If there be anything behind this instinct it will be valuable to trace it afterwards accurately, so I had better commence to do so, therefore—
R.
M. Renfield, ?tat 59.—Sanguine temperament; great physical strength; morbidly excitable; periods of gloom, ending in some fixed idea which I cannot make out.
I presume that the sanguine temperament itself and the disturbing influence end in a mentally-accomplished finish; a possibly dangerous man, probably dangerous if unselfish.
In selfish men caution is as secure an armour for their foes as for themselves.
What I think of on this point is, when self is the fixed point the centripetal force is balanced with the centrifugal; when duty, a cause, etc., is the fixed point, the latter force is paramount, and only accident or a series of accidents can balance it.
Letter, Quincey P. Morris to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
“25 May.
“My dear Art,—
“We’ve told yarns by the camp-fire in the prairies; and dressed one another’s wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas; and drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca.
There are more yarns to be told, and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk.
Won’t you let this be at my camp-fire to-morrow night?
I have no hesitation in asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a certain dinner-party, and that you are free.
There will only be one other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward.
He’s coming, too, and we both want to mingle our weeps over the wine-cup, and to drink a health with all our hearts to the happiest man in all the wide world, who has won the noblest heart that God has made and the best worth winning.
We promise you a hearty welcome, and a loving greeting, and a health as true as your own right hand.
We shall both swear to leave you at home if you drink too deep to a certain pair of eyes.
Come!
“Yours, as ever and always,
“Quincey P.
Morris.”
Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P.
Morris.
“26 May.
“Count me in every time.
I bear messages which will make both your ears tingle.
“Art.”
CHAPTER VI
MINA MURRAY’S JOURNAL
24 July.