Chapter 172

8 September.—I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself off towards dusk, and she waked naturally; she looked a different

being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see

evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs. Westenra that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I

should sit up with her she almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her daughter’s renewed strength and excellent spirits. I was firm,

however, and made preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the night I came in, having in the meantime had

supper, and took a seat by the bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me gratefully whenever I caught her eye.

After a long spell she seemed sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together and shook it off. This was

repeated several times, with greater effort and with shorter pauses as the time moved on. It was apparent that she did not want to

sleep, so I tackled the subject at once:—

“You do not want to go to sleep?”

“No; I am afraid.”

“Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for.”

“Ah, not if you were like me—if sleep was to you a presage of horror!”

“A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?”

“I don’t know; oh, I don’t know. And that is what is so terrible. All this weakness comes to me in sleep; until I dread the very

thought.”

“But, my dear girl, you may sleep to-night. I am here watching you, and I can promise that nothing will happen.”

“Ah, I can trust you!” I seized the opportunity, and said: “I promise you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at

once.”

“You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will sleep!” And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and

sank back, asleep.

All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips

were slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident

that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind.

In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a

short wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold arrears,

took me all day to clear off; it was dark when I was able to inquire about my zoöphagous patient. The report was good; he had been

quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I should

be at Hillingham to-night, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the night mail and would join me early

in the morning.

9 September.—I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my brain

was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits. When she shook hands with me

she looked sharply in my face and said:—

“No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out. I am quite well again; indeed, I am; and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I

who will sit up with you.” I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming

presence, I made an excellent meal, and had a couple of glasses of the more than excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs, and showed

me a room next her own, where a cozy fire was burning. “Now,” she said, “you must stay here. I shall leave this door open and my door

too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient above the

horizon. If I want anything I shall call out, and you can come to me at once.” I could not but acquiesce, for I was “dog-tired,” and

could not have sat up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and

forgot all about everything.

Lucy Westenra’s Diary.