Dracula

seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where
the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man
or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another glance,
but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the fish-market
to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East Cliff. The
town seemed as dead, for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it
was so, for I wanted no witness of poor Lucy's condition. The time and
distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came
laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have
gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with
lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got
almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was
now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of
shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending
over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy!
Lucy!" and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a
white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on
to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was
between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her.
When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight
struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her
head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and there
was not a sign of any living thing about.
When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips
were parted, and she was breathing- not softly, as usual with her, but
in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at
every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and
pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst
she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt
the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight
round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill
from the night air, unclad as she was I feared to wake her all at
once, so, in order to have my hands free that I might help her. I
fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must
have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for
by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to
her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put
my shoes on her feet, and then began very