He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his iron face was drawn and ashen white.

I felt my knees begin to tremble.
There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly white and wan-looking than ever.

Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness.
Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he put it down again softly.
"Quick!" he said.

"Bring the brandy." I flew to the dining room, and returned with the decanter.

He wetted the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and wrist and heart.