"stoker-dracula-168" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stoker Bram)

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 any movement whatever. Just
then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and the
light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head
lying up against the side of the window-sill and her eyes shut. She
was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window-sill, was
something that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might
get a chill, so I ran upstairs, but as I came into the room she was
moving back to her bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily; she was
holding her hand to her throat, as though to protect it from cold.

I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly; I have taken care that
the door is locked and the window securely fastened.

She looks so sweet as she sleeps; but she is paler than is her wont,
and there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like.
I fear she is fretting about something. I wish I could find out what
it is.

15 August.- Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and
slept on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at
breakfast. Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come
off soon. Lucy is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and
sorry at once. Later on in the day she told me the cause. She is
grieved to lose Lucy as her very own, but she is rejoiced that she
is soon to have some one to protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She
confided to me that she has got her death-warrant. She has not told
Lucy, and made me promise secrecy; her doctor told her that within a
few months, at most, she must die, for her heart is weakening. At
any time, even now, a sudden shock would be almost sure to kill her.
Ah, we were wise to keep from her the affair of the dreadful night
of Lucy's sleep-walking.

17 August.- No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to
write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our
happiness. No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker,
whilst her mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not
understand Lucy's fading away as she is doing. She eats well and
sleeps well, and enjoys the fresh air; but all the time the roses in
her cheeks are fading, and she gets weaker and more languid day by
day; at night I hear her gasping as if for air. I keep the key of
our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she gets up and