Dracula

came quite close, but was, I
suppose, frightened at seeing me, and flitted away across the
harbour towards the abbey. When I came back from the window Lucy had
lain down again, and was sleeping peacefully. She did not stir again
all night.
-
{CH08 ^paragraph 15}
14 August.- On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy
seems to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it
is hard to get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch
or tea or dinner. This afternoon she made a funny remark. We were
coming home for dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from
the West Pier and stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The
setting sun, low down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness;
the red light was thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and
seemed to bathe everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent
for a while, and suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself:-
"His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd
expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I
slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare
at her, and saw that she was in a half-dreamy state, with an odd
look on her face that I could not quite make out; so I said nothing,
but followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own
seat, whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was a little
startled myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had
great eyes like burning flames; but a second look dispelled the
illusion. The red sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's
Church behind our seat, and as the sun dipped there was just
sufficient change in the refraction and reflection to make it appear
as if the light moved. I called Lucy's attention to the peculiar
effect, and she became herself with a start, but she looked sad all
the same; it may have been that she was thinking of that terrible
night up there. We never refer to it; so I said nothing, and we went
home to dinner. Lucy had a headache and went early to bed. I saw her
asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself, I walked along the
cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet sadness, for I was
thinking of Jonathan. When coming home- it was then bright
moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the
Crescent was in shadow, everything could be well seen- I threw a
glance up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I thought
that perhaps she was looking out for me, so I opened my handkerchief
and waved it. She did not notice or make