I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I know so well.  I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in the next room, as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be, so that I might have called him.  I tried to sleep, but I could not.  Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake.  Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not want it.  So, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out, “Is there anybody there?” There was no answer.  I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again.  Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog’s, but more fierce and deeper.  I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window.  So I went back to bed again, but determined not to go to sleep.  Presently the door opened, and mother looked in.  Seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, she came in and sat by me.  She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont,

“I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all right.”

I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me.  She did not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while and then go back to her own bed.  As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers the flapping and buffeting came to the window again.  She was startled and a little frightened, and cried out, “What is that?”

I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet.  But I could hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly.  After a while there was the howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor.  The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt gray wolf.

Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her.  Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me.  For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat.  Then she fell over, as if struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two.

The room and all round seemed to spin round.  I kept my eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole myriad of little specks seems to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert.  I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear Mother’s poor body, which seemed to grow cold already, for her dear heart had ceased to beat, weighed me down, and I remembered no more for a while.