DRACULA
PART 24
CHAPTER
XXIV
DR. SEWARD’S PHONOGRAPH DIARY, SPOKEN BY VAN HELSING
THIS to Jonathan Harker.
You are to
stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall go to make our search—if I can call it
so, for it is not search but knowing, and we seek confirmation only. But do you
stay and take care of her to-day. This is your best and most holiest office.
This day nothing can find him here. Let me tell you that so you will know what
we four know already, for I have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone away; he
have gone back to his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so well, as if a great
hand of fire wrote it on the wall. He have prepare for this in some way, and
that last earth-box was ready to ship somewheres. For this he took the money;
for this he hurry at the last, lest we catch him before the sun go down. It was
his last hope, save that he might hide in the tomb that he think poor Miss
Lucy, being as he thought like him, keep open to him. But there was not of
time. When that fail he make straight for his last resource—his last earth-work
I might say did I wish double entente. He is clever, oh, so clever! he
know that his game here was finish; and so he decide he go back home. He find
ship going by the route he came, and he go in it. We go off now to find what
ship, and whither bound; when we have discover that, we come back and tell you
all. Then we will comfort you and poor dear Madam Mina with new hope. For it
will be hope when you think it over: that all is not lost. This very creature
that we pursue, he take hundreds of years to get so far as London; and yet in
one day, when we know of the disposal of him we drive him out. He is finite,
though he is powerful to do much harm and suffers not as we do. But we are
strong, each in our purpose; and we are all more strong together. Take heart
afresh, dear husband of Madam Mina. This battle is but begun, and in the end we
shall win—so sure as that God sits on high to watch over His children.
Therefore be of much comfort till we return.
Van Helsing.
4
October.—When I read to Mina, Van
Helsing’s message in the phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably.
Already the certainty that the Count is out of the country has given her
comfort; and comfort is strength to her. For my own part, now that his horrible
danger is not face to face with us, it seems almost impossible to believe in it.
Even my own terrible experiences in Castle Dracula seem like a long-forgotten
dream. Here in the crisp autumn air in the bright sunlight——
Alas! how
can I disbelieve! In the midst of my thought my eye fell on the red scar on my
poor darling’s white forehead. Whilst that lasts, there can be no disbelief.
And afterwards the very memory of it will keep faith crystal clear. Mina and I
fear to be idle, so we have been over all the diaries again and again. Somehow,
although the reality seems greater each time, the pain and the fear seem less.
There is something of a guiding purpose manifest throughout, which is
comforting. Mina says that perhaps we are the instruments of ultimate good. It
may be! I shall try to think as she does. We have never spoken to each other
yet of the future. It is better to wait till we see the Professor and the
others after their investigations.
The day is
running by more quickly than I ever thought a day could run for me again. It is
now three o’clock.
Mina Harker’s Journal.
5
October, 5 p. m.—Our meeting for
report. Present: Professor Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey
Morris, Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker.
Dr. Van
Helsing described what steps were taken during the day to discover on what boat
and whither bound Count Dracula made his escape:—
“As I knew
that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt sure that he must go by the
Danube mouth; or by somewhere in the Black Sea, since by that way he come. It
was a dreary blank that was before us. Omne ignotum pro magnifico; and
so with heavy hearts we start to find what ships leave for the Black Sea last
night. He was in sailing ship, since Madam Mina tell of sails being set. These
not so important as to go in your list of the shipping in the Times, and
so we go, by suggestion of Lord Godalming, to your Lloyd’s, where are note of
all ships that sail, however so small. There we find that only one
Black-Sea-bound ship go out with the tide. She is the Czarina Catherine, and she sail from Doolittle’s Wharf for
Varna, and thence on to other parts and up the Danube. ‘Soh!’ said I, ‘this is
the ship whereon is the Count.’ So off we go to Doolittle’s Wharf, and there we
find a man in an office of wood so small that the man look bigger than the
office. From him we inquire of the goings of the Czarina Catherine. He
swear much, and he red face and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the same;
and when Quincey give him something from his pocket which crackle as he roll it
up, and put it in a so small bag which he have hid deep in his clothing, he
still better fellow and humble servant to us. He come with us, and ask many men
who are rough and hot; these be better fellows too when they have been no more
thirsty. They say much of blood and bloom, and of others which I comprehend not,
though I guess what they mean; but nevertheless they tell us all things which
we want to know.
“They make
known to us among them, how last afternoon at about five o’clock comes a man so
hurry. A tall man, thin and pale, with high nose and teeth so white, and eyes
that seem to be burning. That he be all in black, except that he have a hat of
straw which suit not him or the time. That he scatter his money in making quick
inquiry as to what ship sails for the Black Sea and for where. Some took him to
the office and then to the ship, where he will not go aboard but halt at shore
end of gang-plank, and ask that the captain come to him. The captain come, when
told that he will be pay well; and though he swear much at the first he agree
to term. Then the thin man go and some one tell him where horse and cart can be
hired. He go there and soon he come again, himself driving cart on which a
great box; this he himself lift down, though it take several to put it on truck
for the ship. He give much talk to captain as to how and where his box is to be
place; but the captain like it not and swear at him in many tongues, and tell
him that if he like he can come and see where it shall be. But he say ‘no’;
that he come not yet, for that he have much to do. Whereupon the captain tell
him that he had better be quick—with blood—for that his ship will leave the
place—of blood—before the turn of the tide—with blood. Then the thin man smile
and say that of course he must go when he think fit; but he will be surprise if
he go quite so soon. The captain swear again, polyglot, and the thin man make
him bow, and thank him, and say that he will so far intrude on his kindness as
to come aboard before the sailing. Final the captain, more red than ever, and
in more tongues tell him that he doesn’t want no Frenchmen—with bloom upon them and also with blood—in his ship—with blood on her
also. And so, after asking where there might be close at hand a ship where he
might purchase ship forms, he departed.
“No one
knew where he went ‘or bloomin’ well cared,’ as they said, for they had
something else to think of—well with blood again; for it soon became apparent
to all that the Czarina Catherine would not sail as was expected. A thin
mist began to creep up from the river, and it grew, and grew; till soon a dense
fog enveloped the ship and all around her. The captain swore polyglot—very
polyglot—polyglot with bloom and blood; but he could do nothing. The water rose
and rose; and he began to fear that he would lose the tide altogether. He was
in no friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man came up the
gang-plank again and asked to see where his box had been stowed. Then the
captain replied that he wished that he and his box—old and with much bloom and
blood—were in hell. But the thin man did not be offend, and went down with the
mate and saw where it was place, and came up and stood awhile on deck in fog.
He must have come off by himself, for none notice him. Indeed they thought not
of him; for soon the fog begin to melt away, and all was clear again. My
friends of the thirst and the language that was of bloom and blood laughed, as
they told how the captain’s swears exceeded even his usual polyglot, and was
more than ever full of picturesque, when on questioning other mariners who were
on movement up and down on the river that hour, he found that few of them had
seen any of fog at all, except where it lay round the wharf. However, the ship
went out on the ebb tide; and was doubtless by morning far down the river
mouth. She was by then, when they told us, well out to sea.
“And so,
my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a time, for our enemy is on
the sea, with the fog at his command, on his way to the Danube mouth. To sail a
ship takes time, go she never so quick; and when we start we go on land more
quick, and we meet him there. Our best hope is to come on him when in the box
between sunrise and sunset; for then he can make no struggle, and we may deal
with him as we should. There are days for us, in which we can make ready our
plan. We know all about where he go; for we have seen the owner of the ship,
who have shown us invoices and all papers that can be. The box we seek is to be
landed in Varna, and to be given to an agent, one Ristics who will there
present his credentials; and so our merchant friend will have done his part.
When he ask if there be any wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made at Varna, we say ‘no’; for what is
to be done is not for police or of the customs. It must be done by us alone and
in our own way.”
When Dr.
Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he were certain that the Count
had remained on board the ship. He replied: “We have the best proof of that:
your own evidence, when in the hypnotic trance this morning.” I asked him again
if it were really necessary that they should pursue the Count, for oh! I dread
Jonathan leaving me, and I know that he would surely go if the others went. He
answered in growing passion, at first quietly. As he went on, however, he grew
more angry and more forceful, till in the end we could not but see wherein was
at least some of that personal dominance which made him so long a master
amongst men:—
“Yes, it
is necessary—necessary—necessary! For your sake in the first, and then for the
sake of humanity. This monster has done much harm already, in the narrow scope
where he find himself, and in the short time when as yet he was only as a body
groping his so small measure in darkness and not knowing. All this have I told
these others; you, my dear Madam Mina, will learn it in the phonograph of my
friend John, or in that of your husband. I have told them how the measure of
leaving his own barren land—barren of peoples—and coming to a new land where
life of man teems till they are like the multitude of standing corn, was the
work of centuries. Were another of the Un-Dead, like him, to try to do what he
has done, perhaps not all the centuries of the world that have been, or that
will be, could aid him. With this one, all the forces of nature that are occult
and deep and strong must have worked together in some wondrous way. The very
place, where he have been alive, Un-Dead for all these centuries, is full of
strangeness of the geologic and chemical world. There are deep caverns and
fissures that reach none know whither. There have been volcanoes, some of whose
openings still send out waters of strange properties, and gases that kill or
make to vivify. Doubtless, there is something magnetic or electric in some of
these combinations of occult forces which work for physical life in strange
way; and in himself were from the first some great qualities. In a hard and
warlike time he was celebrate that he have more iron nerve, more subtle brain,
more braver heart, than any man. In him some vital principle have in strange
way found their utmost; and as his body keep strong and grow and thrive, so his
brain grow too. All this without that diabolic aid which is surely to him; for
it have to yield to the powers that come from, and are,
symbolic of good. And now this is what he is to us. He have infect you—oh,
forgive me, my dear, that I must say such; but it is for good of you that I
speak. He infect you in such wise, that even if he do no more, you have only to
live—to live in your own old, sweet way; and so in time, death, which is of
man’s common lot and with God’s sanction, shall make you like to him. This must
not be! We have sworn together that it must not. Thus are we ministers of God’s
own wish: that the world, and men for whom His Son die, will not be given over
to monsters, whose very existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to
redeem one soul already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to
redeem more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise; and like them, if
we fall, we fall in good cause.” He paused and I said:—
“But will
not the Count take his rebuff wisely? Since he has been driven from England,
will he not avoid it, as a tiger does the village from which he has been
hunted?”
“Aha!” he
said, “your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I shall adopt him. Your
man-eater, as they of India call the tiger who has once tasted blood of the
human, care no more for the other prey, but prowl unceasing till he get him.
This that we hunt from our village is a tiger, too, a man-eater, and he never
cease to prowl. Nay, in himself he is not one to retire and stay afar. In his
life, his living life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on
his own ground; he be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and
again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain
that was to him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a great city.
What does he do? He find out the place of all the world most of promise for
him. Then he deliberately set himself down to prepare for the task. He find in
patience just how is his strength, and what are his powers. He study new
tongues. He learn new social life; new environment of old ways, the politic,
the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new people who
have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have had, whet his appetite
only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him to grow as to his brain; for it
all prove to him how right he was at the first in his surmises. He have done
this alone; all alone! from a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he
not do when the greater world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at
death, as we know him; who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off
whole peoples. Oh, if such an one was to come from God,
and not the Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old world of
ours. But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must be in silence,
and our efforts all in secret; for in this enlightened age, when men believe
not even what they see, the doubting of wise men would be his greatest
strength. It would be at once his sheath and his armour, and his weapons to
destroy us, his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the
safety of one we love—for the good of mankind, and for the honour and glory of
God.”
After a
general discussion it was determined that for to-night nothing be definitely
settled; that we should all sleep on the facts, and try to think out the proper
conclusions. To-morrow, at breakfast, we are to meet again, and, after making
our conclusions known to one another, we shall decide on some definite cause of
action.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I feel a
wonderful peace and rest to-night. It is as if some haunting presence were
removed from me. Perhaps ...
My surmise
was not finished, could not be; for I caught sight in the mirror of the red
mark upon my forehead; and I knew that I was still unclean.
Dr. Seward’s Diary.
5
October.—We all rose 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.
It 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 realise 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 distils 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 woman!
Van
Helsing is coming to my study a little before the others. I shall try to open
the subject with him.
Later.—When the Professor came in, we talked over the state
of things. I could see that he had something on his mind which he wanted to
say, but felt some hesitancy about broaching the subject. After beating about
the bush a little, he said suddenly:—
“Friend
John, there is something that you and I must talk of alone, just at the first
at any rate. Later, we may have to take the others into our confidence”; then
he stopped, so I waited; he went on:—
“Madam
Mina, our poor, dear Madam Mina is changing.” A cold shiver ran through me to
find my worst fears thus endorsed. Van Helsing continued:—
“With the
sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time be warned before things go too
far. Our task is now in reality more difficult than ever, and this new trouble
makes every hour of the direst importance. I can see the characteristics of the
vampire coming in her face. It is now but very, very slight; but it is to be
seen if we have eyes to notice without to prejudge. Her teeth are some sharper,
and at times her eyes are more hard. But these are not all, there is to her the
silence now often; as so it was with Miss Lucy. She did not speak, even when
she wrote that which she wished to be known later. Now my fear is this. If it
be that she can, by our hypnotic trance, tell what the
Count see and hear, is it not more true that he who have hypnotise her first,
and who have drink of her very blood and make her drink of his, should, if he
will, compel her mind to disclose to him that which she know?” I nodded
acquiescence; he went on:—
“Then,
what we must do is to prevent this; we must keep her ignorant of our intent,
and so she cannot tell what she know not. This is a painful task! Oh, so
painful that it heart-break me to think of; but it must be. When to-day we
meet, I must tell her that for reason which we will not to speak she must not
more be of our council, but be simply guarded by us.” He wiped his forehead,
which had broken out in profuse perspiration at the thought of the pain which
he might have to inflict upon the poor soul already so tortured. I knew that it
would be some sort of comfort to him if I told him that I also had come to the
same conclusion; for at any rate it would take away the pain of doubt. I told
him, and the effect was as I expected.
It is now
close to the time of our general gathering. Van Helsing has gone away to
prepare for the meeting, and his painful part of it. I really believe his
purpose is to be able to pray alone.
Later.—At the very outset of our meeting a great personal
relief was experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs. Harker had sent a
message by her husband to say that she would not join us at present, as she
thought it better that we should be free to discuss our movements without her
presence to embarrass us. The Professor and I looked at each other for an
instant, and somehow we both seemed relieved. For my own part, I thought that
if Mrs. Harker realised the danger herself, it was much pain as well as much
danger averted. Under the circumstances we agreed, by a questioning look and
answer, with finger on lip, to preserve silence in our suspicions, until we
should have been able to confer alone again. We went at once into our Plan of
Campaign. Van Helsing roughly put the facts before us first:—
“The Czarina
Catherine left the Thames yesterday morning. It will take her at the
quickest speed she has ever made at least three weeks to reach Varna; but we
can travel overland to the same place in three days. Now, if we allow for two
days less for the ship’s voyage, owing to such weather influences as we know
that the Count can bring to bear; and if we allow a whole day and night for any
delays which may occur to us, then we have a margin of nearly two weeks. Thus,
in order to be quite safe, we must leave here on 17th at
latest. Then we shall at any rate be in Varna a day before the ship arrives,
and able to make such preparations as may be necessary. Of course we shall all
go armed—armed against evil things, spiritual as well as physical.” Here
Quincey Morris added:—
“I
understand that the Count comes from a wolf country, and it may be that he
shall get there before us. I propose that we add Winchesters to our armament. I
have a kind of belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble of that sort
around. Do you remember, Art, when we had the pack after us at Tobolsk? What
wouldn’t we have given then for a repeater apiece!”
“Good!”
said Van Helsing, “Winchesters it shall be. Quincey’s head is level at all
times, but most so when there is to hunt, metaphor be more dishonour to science
than wolves be of danger to man. In the meantime we can do nothing here; and as
I think that Varna is not familiar to any of us, why not go there more soon? It
is as long to wait here as there. To-night and to-morrow we can get ready, and
then, if all be well, we four can set out on our journey.”
“We four?”
said Harker interrogatively, looking from one to another of us.
“Of
course!” answered the Professor quickly, “you must remain to take care of your
so sweet wife!” Harker was silent for awhile and then said in a hollow voice:—
“Let us
talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to consult with Mina.” I thought
that now was the time for Van Helsing to warn him not to disclose our plans to
her; but he took no notice. I looked at him significantly and coughed. For
answer he put his finger on his lips and turned away.
Jonathan Harker’s Journal.
5
October, afternoon.—For some time
after our meeting this morning I could not think. The new phases of things
leave my mind in a state of wonder which allows no room for active thought.
Mina’s determination not to take any part in the discussion set me thinking;
and as I could not argue the matter with her, I could only guess. I am as far
as ever from a solution now. The way the others received it, too, puzzled me;
the last time we talked of the subject we agreed that there was to be no more
concealment of anything amongst us. Mina is sleeping now, calmly and sweetly
like a little child. Her lips are curved and her face beams with happiness.
Thank God, there are such moments still for her.
Later.—How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina’s happy
sleep, and came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I shall ever be. As
the evening drew on, and the earth took its shadows from the sun sinking lower,
the silence of the room grew more and more solemn to me. All at once Mina
opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly, said:—
“Jonathan,
I want you to promise me something on your word of honour. A promise made to
me, but made holily in God’s hearing, and not to be broken though I should go
down on my knees and implore you with bitter tears. Quick, you must make it to
me at once.”
“Mina,” I
said, “a promise like that, I cannot make at once. I may have no right to make
it.”
“But, dear
one,” she said, with such spiritual intensity that her eyes were like pole
stars, “it is I who wish it; and it is not for myself. You can ask Dr. Van
Helsing if I am not right; if he disagrees you may do as you will. Nay, more,
if you all agree, later, you are absolved from the promise.”
“I
promise!” I said, and for a moment she looked supremely happy; though to me all
happiness for her was denied by the red scar on her forehead. She said:—
“Promise
me that you will not tell me anything of the plans formed for the campaign
against the Count. Not by word, or inference, or implication; not at any time
whilst this remains to me!” and she solemnly pointed to the scar. I saw that
she was in earnest, and said solemnly:—
“I
promise!” and as I said it I felt that from that instant a door had been shut
between us.
Later,
midnight.—Mina has been bright and
cheerful all the evening. So much so that all the rest seemed to take courage,
as if infected somewhat with her gaiety; as a result even I myself felt as if
the pall of gloom which weighs us down were somewhat lifted. We all retired
early. Mina is now sleeping like a little child; it is a wonderful thing that
her faculty of sleep remains to her in the midst of her terrible trouble. Thank
God for it, for then at least she can forget her care. Perhaps her example may
affect me as her gaiety did to-night. I shall try it. Oh! for a dreamless
sleep.
6
October, morning.—Another surprise.
Mina woke me early, about the same time as yesterday, and asked me to bring Dr.
Van Helsing. I thought that it was another occasion for hypnotism, and without question went for the Professor. He had
evidently expected some such call, for I found him dressed in his room. His
door was ajar, so that he could hear the opening of the door of our room. He
came at once; as he passed into the room, he asked Mina if the others might
come, too.
“No,” she
said quite simply, “it will not be necessary. You can tell them just as well. I
must go with you on your journey.”
Dr. Van
Helsing was as startled as I was. After a moment’s pause he asked:—
“But why?”
“You must
take me with you. I am safer with you, and you shall be safer, too.”
“But why,
dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety is our solemnest duty. We go into
danger, to which you are, or may be, more liable than any of us from—from
circumstances—things that have been.” He paused, embarrassed.
As she
replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her forehead:—
“I know.
That is why I must go. I can tell you now, whilst the sun is coming up; I may
not be able again. I know that when the Count wills me I must go. I know that
if he tells me to come in secret, I must come by wile; by any device to
hoodwink—even Jonathan.” God saw the look that she turned on me as she spoke,
and if there be indeed a Recording Angel that look is noted to her everlasting
honour. I could only clasp her hand. I could not speak; my emotion was too
great for even the relief of tears. She went on:—
“You men
are brave and strong. You are strong in your numbers, for you can defy that
which would break down the human endurance of one who had to guard alone.
Besides, I may be of service, since you can hypnotise me and so learn that
which even I myself do not know.” Dr. Van Helsing said very gravely:—
“Madam
Mina, you are, as always, most wise. You shall with us come; and together we
shall do that which we go forth to achieve.” When he had spoken, Mina’s long
spell of silence made me look at her. She had fallen back on her pillow asleep;
she did not even wake when I had pulled up the blind and let in the sunlight
which flooded the room. Van Helsing motioned to me to come with him quietly. We
went to his room, and within a minute Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr.
Morris were with us also. He told them what Mina had said, and went on:—
“In the
morning we shall leave for Varna. We have now to deal
with a new factor: Madam Mina. Oh, but her soul is true. It is to her an agony
to tell us so much as she has done; but it is most right, and we are warned in
time. There must be no chance lost, and in Varna we must be ready to act the
instant when that ship arrives.”
“What
shall we do exactly?” asked Mr. Morris laconically. The Professor paused before
replying:—
“We shall
at the first board that ship; then, when we have identified the box, we shall
place a branch of the wild rose on it. This we shall fasten, for when it is
there none can emerge; so at least says the superstition. And to superstition
must we trust at the first; it was man’s faith in the early, and it have its
root in faith still. Then, when we get the opportunity that we seek, when none
are near to see, we shall open the box, and—and all will be well.”
“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.
To be continued
