Dr. Seaward's Diary
We all arose early, and I think
that sleep did much for each and all of us. When we met at early breakfast there
was more general cheerfulness than any of us had ever expected to experience again.
is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human nature. Let any obstructing
cause, no matter what, be removed in any way, even by death, and we fly back to
first principles of hope and enjoyment. More than once as we sat around the table,
my eyes opened in wonder whether the whole of the past days had not been a dream.
It was only when I caught sight of the red blotch on Mrs. Harker's forehead that
I was brought back to reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving the matter,
it is almost impossible to realize that the cause of all our trouble is still
existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her trouble for whole spells.
It is only now and again, when something recalls it to her mind, that she thinks
of her terrible scar. We are to meet here in my study in half an hour and decide
on our course of action. I see only one immediate difficulty, I know it by instinct
rather than reason. We shall all have to speak frankly. And yet I fear that in
some mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker's tongue is tied. I know that she forms conclusions
of her own, and from all that has been I can guess how brilliant and how true
they must be. But she will not, or cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned
this to Van Helsing, and he and I are to talk it over when we are alone. I suppose
it is some of that horrid poison which has got into her veins beginning to work.
The Count had his own purposes when he gave her what Van Helsing called "the
Vampire's baptism of blood." Well, there may be a poison that distills itself
out of good things. In an age when the existence of ptomaines is a mystery we
should not wonder at anything! One thing I know, that if my instinct be true regarding
poor Mrs. Harker's silences, then there is a terrible difficulty, an unknown danger,
in the work before us. The same power that compels her silence may compel her
speech. I dare not think further, for so I should in my thoughts dishonour a noble