Dracula

CHAPTER XIII

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--_continued_.

The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy andher mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastlyformalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff wereafflicted--or blessed--with something of his own obsequious suavity.Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked tome, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come outfrom the death-chamber:--

”She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege toattend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to ourestablishment!”

I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible fromthe disordered state of things in the household. There were no relativesat hand; and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend at hisfather's funeral, we were unable to notify any one who should have beenbidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it uponourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over Lucy'spapers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being aforeigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements, andso might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble. He answered me:--

”I know; I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as well as a doctor. Butthis is not altogether for the law. You knew that, when you avoided thecoroner. I have more than him to avoid. There may be papers more--suchas this.”

As he spoke he took from his pocket-book the memorandum which had beenin Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her sleep.

”When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late Mrs.Westenra, seal all her papers, and write him to-night. For me, I watchhere in the room and in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I myselfsearch for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts go intothe hands of strangers.”

I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had foundthe name and address of Mrs. Westenra's solicitor and had written tohim. All the poor lady's papers were in order; explicit directionsregarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly sealed theletter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room,saying:--

”Can I help you, friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is toyou.”

”Have you got what you looked for?” I asked, to which he replied:--

”I did not look for any specific thing. I only hoped to find, and find Ihave, all that there was--only some letters and a few memoranda, and adiary new begun. But I have them here, and we shall for the present saynothing of them. I shall see that poor lad to-morrow evening, and, withhis sanction, I shall use some.”

When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me:--

”And now, friend John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both youand I, and rest to recuperate. To-morrow we shall have much to do, butfor the to-night there is no need of us. Alas!”

Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker hadcertainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small_chapelle ardente_. There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers,and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of thewinding-sheet was laid over the face; when the Professor bent over andturned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us, the tallwax candles showing a sufficient light to note it well. All Lucy'sloveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that had passed,instead of leaving traces of ”decay's effacing fingers,” had butrestored the beauty of life, till positively I could not believe my eyesthat I was looking at a corpse.

The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had, andthere was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me: ”Remain till Ireturn,” and left the room. He came back with a handful of wild garlicfrom the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been opened, andplaced the flowers amongst the others on and around the bed. Then hetook from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold crucifix, andplaced it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its place, and wecame away.

I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at thedoor, he entered, and at once began to speak:--

”To-morrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortemknives.”

”Must we make an autopsy?” I asked.

”Yes and no. I want to operate, but not as you think. Let me tell younow, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and take outher heart. Ah! you a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I have seen withno tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and death that makethe rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear friend John, thatyou loved her; and I have not forgotten it, for it is I that shalloperate, and you must only help. I would like to do it to-night, but forArthur I must not; he will be free after his father's funeral to-morrow,and he will want to see her--to see _it_. Then, when she is coffinedready for the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We shallunscrew the coffin-lid, and shall do our operation: and then replaceall, so that none know, save we alone.”

”But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor bodywithout need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem and nothingto gain by it--no good to her, to us, to science, to humanknowledge--why do it? Without such it is monstrous.”

For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinitetenderness:--

”Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart; and I love you the morebecause it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on myself the burdenthat you do bear. But there are things that you know not, but that youshall know, and bless me for knowing, though they are not pleasantthings. John, my child, you have been my friend now many years, and yetdid you ever know me to do any without good cause? I may err--I am butman; but I believe in all I do. Was it not for these causes that yousend for me when the great trouble came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nayhorrified, when I would not let Arthur kiss his love--though she wasdying--and snatched him away by all my strength? Yes! And yet you sawhow she thanked me, with her so beautiful dying eyes, her voice, too, soweak, and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me? Yes! And did you nothear me swear promise to her, that so she closed her eyes grateful? Yes!

”Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for manyyears trust me; you have believe me weeks past, when there be things sostrange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a little, friendJohn. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think; and that isnot perhaps well. And if I work--as work I shall, no matter trust or notrust--without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy heart and feel,oh! so lonely when I want all help and courage that may be!” He paused amoment and went on solemnly: ”Friend John, there are strange andterrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, that so we work toa good end. Will you not have faith in me?”

I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went away,and watched him go into his room and close the door. As I stood withoutmoving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage--she hadher back towards me, so did not see me--and go into the room where Lucylay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and we are so gratefulto those who show it unasked to those we love. Here was a poor girlputting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go watchalone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor claymight not be lonely till laid to eternal rest....

* * * * *

I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when VanHelsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my bedside andsaid:--

”You need not trouble about the knives; we shall not do it.”

”Why not?” I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had greatlyimpressed me.

”Because,” he said sternly, ”it is too late--or too early. See!” Here heheld up the little golden crucifix. ”This was stolen in the night.”

”How, stolen,” I asked in wonder, ”since you have it now?”

”Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from thewoman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will surelycome, but not through me; she knew not altogether what she did and thusunknowing, she only stole. Now we must wait.”

He went away on the word, leaving me with a new mystery to think of, anew puzzle to grapple with.

The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came: Mr.Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. He was very genialand very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our hands allcares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had forsome time expected sudden death from her heart, and had put her affairsin absolute order; he informed us that, with the exception of a certainentailed property of Lucy's father's which now, in default of directissue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole estate,real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. When he hadtold us so much he went on:--

”Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition, andpointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter eitherpenniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a matrimonialalliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we almost came intocollision, for she asked us if we were or were not prepared to carry outher wishes. Of course, we had then no alternative but to accept. We wereright in principle, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred we shouldhave proved, by the logic of events, the accuracy of our judgment.Frankly, however, I must admit that in this case any other form ofdisposition would have rendered impossible the carrying out of herwishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have comeinto possession of the property, and, even had she only survived hermother by five minutes, her property would, in case there were nowill--and a will was a practical impossibility in such a case--have beentreated at her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord Godalming,though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in the world; and theinheritors, being remote, would not be likely to abandon their justrights, for sentimental reasons regarding an entire stranger. I assureyou, my dear sirs, I am rejoiced at the result, perfectly rejoiced.”

He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part--in whichhe was officially interested--of so great a tragedy, was anobject-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.

He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day andsee Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain comfort tous, since it assured us that we should not have to dread hostilecriticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at five o'clock, soa little before that time we visited the death-chamber. It was so invery truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it. The undertaker,true to his craft, had made the best display he could of his goods, andthere was a mortuary air about the place that lowered our spirits atonce. Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adhered to,explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon, it would beless harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his _fiancee_quite alone. The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity andexerted himself to restore things to the condition in which we left themthe night before, so that when Arthur came such shocks to his feelingsas we could avoid were saved.

Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken; even his stalwartmanhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of hismuch-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedlyattached to his father; and to lose him, and at such a time, was abitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing hewas sweetly courteous; but I could not help seeing that there was someconstraint with him. The Professor noticed it, too, and motioned me tobring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as Ifelt he would like to be quite alone with her, but he took my arm andled me in, saying huskily:--

”You loved her too, old fellow; she told me all about it, and there wasno friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I don't know how tothank you for all you have done for her. I can't think yet....”

Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders andlaid his head on my breast, crying:--

”Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do! The whole of life seems gone from meall at once, and there is nothing in the wide world for me to live for.”

I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need muchexpression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an arm over theshoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dear to a man'sheart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away, and then I saidsoftly to him:--

”Come and look at her.”

Together we moved over to the bed, and I lifted the lawn from her face.God! how beautiful she was. Every hour seemed to be enhancing herloveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat; and as for Arthur, hefell a-trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague. Atlast, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper:--

”Jack, is she really dead?”

I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to suggest--for I feltthat such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer thanI could help--that it often happened that after death faces becamesoftened and even resolved into their youthful beauty; that this wasespecially so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolongedsuffering. It seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and, afterkneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her lovingly andlong, he turned aside. I told him that that must be good-bye, as thecoffin had to be prepared; so he went back and took her dead hand in hisand kissed it, and bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away,fondly looking back over his shoulder at her as he came.

I left him in the drawing-room, and told Van Helsing that he had saidgood-bye; so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's mento proceed with the preparations and to screw up the coffin. When hecame out of the room again I told him of Arthur's question, and hereplied:--

”I am not surprised. Just now I doubted for a moment myself!”

We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to makethe best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner-time; butwhen we had lit our cigars he said--

”Lord----”; but Arthur interrupted him:--

”No, no, not that, for God's sake! not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir:I did not mean to speak offensively; it is only because my loss is sorecent.”

The Professor answered very sweetly:--

”I only used that name because I was in doubt. I must not call you'Mr.,' and I have grown to love you--yes, my dear boy, to love you--asArthur.”

Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly.

”Call me what you will,” he said. ”I hope I may always have the title ofa friend. And let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you foryour goodness to my poor dear.” He paused a moment, and went on: ”I knowthat she understood your goodness even better than I do; and if I wasrude or in any way wanting at that time you acted so--you remember”--theProfessor nodded--”you must forgive me.”

He answered with a grave kindness:--

”I know it was hard for you to quite trust me then, for to trust suchviolence needs to understand; and I take it that you do not--that youcannot--trust me now, for you do not yet understand. And there may bemore times when I shall want you to trust when you cannot--and maynot--and must not yet understand. But the time will come when your trustshall be whole and complete in me, and when you shall understand asthough the sunlight himself shone through. Then you shall bless me fromfirst to last for your own sake, and for the sake of others and for herdear sake to whom I swore to protect.”

”And, indeed, indeed, sir,” said Arthur warmly, ”I shall in all waystrust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you areJack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like.”

The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about tospeak, and finally said:--

”May I ask you something now?”

”Certainly.”

”You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?”

”No, poor dear; I never thought of it.”

”And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. Iwant you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's papers andletters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of which,be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I took thembefore we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touchthem--no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keepthem, if I may; even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep themsafe. No word shall be lost; and in the good time I shall give them backto you. It's a hard thing I ask, but you will do it, will you not, forLucy's sake?”

Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self:--

”Dr. Van Helsing, you may do what you will. I feel that in saying this Iam doing what my dear one would have approved. I shall not trouble youwith questions till the time comes.”

The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly:--

”And you are right. There will be pain for us all; but it will not beall pain, nor will this pain be the last. We and you too--you most ofall, my dear boy--will have to pass through the bitter water before wereach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do ourduty, and all will be well!”

I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did not go tobed at all. He went to and fro, as if patrolling the house, and wasnever out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn withthe wild garlic flowers, which sent, through the odour of lily and rose,a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

_Mina Harker's Journal._

_22 September._--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping.

It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how muchbetween then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away andno news of him; and now, married to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, apartner, rich, master of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, andJonathan with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask meabout it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand--see whatunexpected prosperity does for us--so it may be as well to freshen it upagain with an exercise anyhow....

The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only ourselvesand the servants there, one or two old friends of his from Exeter, hisLondon agent, and a gentleman representing Sir John Paxton, thePresident of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand inhand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us....

We came back to town quietly, taking a 'bus to Hyde Park Corner.Jonathan thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, sowe sat down; but there were very few people there, and it wassad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us thinkof the empty chair at home; so we got up and walked down Piccadilly.Jonathan was holding me by the arm, the way he used to in old daysbefore I went to school. I felt it very improper, for you can't go onfor some years teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without thepedantry of it biting into yourself a bit; but it was Jonathan, and hewas my husband, and we didn't know anybody who saw us--and we didn'tcare if they did--so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautifulgirl, in a big cart-wheel hat, sitting in a victoria outside Guiliano's,when I felt Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he saidunder his breath: ”My God!” I am always anxious about Jonathan, for Ifear that some nervous fit may upset him again; so I turned to himquickly, and asked him what it was that disturbed him.

He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror andhalf in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose andblack moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the prettygirl. He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either of us,and so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good face; it washard, and cruel, and sensual, and his big white teeth, that looked allthe whiter because his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal's.Jonathan kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would notice. Ifeared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. I askedJonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently thinking thatI knew as much about it as he did: ”Do you see who it is?”

”No, dear,” I said; ”I don't know him; who is it?” His answer seemed toshock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it wasto me, Mina, to whom he was speaking:--

”It is the man himself!”

The poor dear was evidently terrified at something--very greatlyterrified; I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and tosupport him he would have sunk down. He kept staring; a man came out ofthe shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then droveoff. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriagemoved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and hailed ahansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to himself:--

”I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this beso! Oh, my God! my God! If I only knew! if I only knew!” He wasdistressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on thesubject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I drew himaway quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a littlefurther, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It wasa hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable seat in a shady place.After a few minutes' staring at nothing, Jonathan's eyes closed, and hewent quietly into a sleep, with his head on my shoulder. I thought itwas the best thing for him, so did not disturb him. In about twentyminutes he woke up, and said to me quite cheerfully:--

”Why, Mina, have I been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude.Come, and we'll have a cup of tea somewhere.” He had evidently forgottenall about the dark stranger, as in his illness he had forgotten all thatthis episode had reminded him of. I don't like this lapsing intoforgetfulness; it may make or continue some injury to the brain. I mustnot ask him, for fear I shall do more harm than good; but I must somehowlearn the facts of his journey abroad. The time is come, I fear, when Imust open that parcel, and know what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you will,I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but it is for your own dear sake.

* * * * *

_Later._--A sad home-coming in every way--the house empty of the dearsoul who was so good to us; Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a slightrelapse of his malady; and now a telegram from Van Helsing, whoever hemay be:--

”You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five days ago, andthat Lucy died the day before yesterday. They were both buried to-day.”

Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! poorLucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to havelost such sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear ourtroubles.

_Dr. Seward's Diary._

_22 September._--It is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and hastaken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I believein my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's death as anyof us; but he bore himself through it like a moral Viking. If Americacan go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the worldindeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest preparatory to hisjourney. He goes over to Amsterdam to-night, but says he returnsto-morrow night; that he only wants to make some arrangements which canonly be made personally. He is to stop with me then, if he can; he sayshe has work to do in London which may take him some time. Poor oldfellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has broken down even hisiron strength. All the time of the burial he was, I could see, puttingsome terrible restraint on himself. When it was all over, we werestanding beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was speaking of his part inthe operation where his blood had been transfused to his Lucy's veins; Icould see Van Helsing's face grow white and purple by turns. Arthur wassaying that he felt since then as if they two had been really marriedand that she was his wife in the sight of God. None of us said a word ofthe other operations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey wentaway together to the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. Themoment we were alone in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit ofhysterics. He has denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insistedthat it was only his sense of humour asserting itself under veryterrible conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw downthe blinds lest any one should see us and misjudge; and then he cried,till he laughed again; and laughed and cried together, just as a womandoes. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under thecircumstances; but it had no effect. Men and women are so different inmanifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face grewgrave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a time.His reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was logical andforceful and mysterious. He said:--

”Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not sad,though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. Butno more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he comejust the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at yourdoor and say, 'May I come in?' is not the true laughter. No! he is aking, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose notime of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' Behold, in example I grieve myheart out for that so sweet young girl; I give my blood for her, thoughI am old and worn; I give my time, my skill, my sleep; I let my othersufferers want that so she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her verygrave--laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon hercoffin and say 'Thud! thud!' to my heart, till it send back the bloodfrom my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy--that dear boy, so ofthe age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with hishair and eyes the same. There, you know now why I love him so. And yetwhen he say things that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make myfather-heart yearn to him as to no other man--not even to you, friendJohn, for we are more level in experiences than father and son--yet evenat such moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear,'Here I am! here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bring some ofthe sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it isa strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, andtroubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to thetune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, andtears that burn as they fall--all dance together to the music that hemake with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, thathe is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawntight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and,like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strainbecome too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like thesunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on withour labour, what it may be.”

I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea; but, as Idid not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As heanswered me his face grew stern, and he said in quite a differenttone:--

”Oh, it was the grim irony of it all--this so lovely lady garlanded withflowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered if shewere truly dead; she laid in that so fine marble house in that lonelychurchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the motherwho loved her, and whom she loved; and that sacred bell going 'Toll!toll! toll!' so sad and slow; and those holy men, with the whitegarments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the timetheir eyes never on the page; and all of us with the bowed head. And allfor what? She is dead; so! Is it not?”

”Well, for the life of me, Professor,” I said, ”I can't see anything tolaugh at in all that. Why, your explanation makes it a harder puzzlethan before. But even if the burial service was comic, what about poorArt and his trouble? Why, his heart was simply breaking.”

”Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins hadmade her truly his bride?”

”Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him.”

”Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, thenwhat about the others? Ho, ho! Then this so sweet maid is a polyandrist,and me, with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by Church's law, thoughno wits, all gone--even I, who am faithful husband to this now-no-wife,am bigamist.”

”I don't see where the joke comes in there either!” I said; and I didnot feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He laidhis hand on my arm, and said:--

”Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to otherswhen it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust.If you could have looked into my very heart then when I want to laugh;if you could have done so when the laugh arrived; if you could do sonow, when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him--forhe go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time--maybe you wouldperhaps pity me the most of all.”

I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why.

”Because I know!”

And now we are all scattered; and for many a long day loneliness willsit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of herkin, a lordly death-house in a lonely churchyard, away from teemingLondon; where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead Hill,and where wild flowers grow of their own accord.

So I can finish this diary; and God only knows if I shall ever beginanother. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will be to deal withdifferent people and different themes; for here at the end, where theromance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of mylife-work, I say sadly and without hope,

”FINIS.”

_”The Westminster Gazette,” 25 September._

A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY.

The neighbourhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with aseries of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of whatwas known to the writers of headlines as ”The Kensington Horror,” or”The Stabbing Woman,” or ”The Woman in Black.” During the past two orthree days several cases have occurred of young children straying fromhome or neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath. In allthese cases the children were too young to give any properlyintelligible account of themselves, but the consensus of their excusesis that they had been with a ”bloofer lady.” It has always been late inthe evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions thechildren have not been found until early in the following morning. It isgenerally supposed in the neighbourhood that, as the first child missedgave as his reason for being away that a ”bloofer lady” had asked him tocome for a walk, the others had picked up the phrase and used it asoccasion served. This is the more natural as the favourite game of thelittle ones at present is luring each other away by wiles. Acorrespondent writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending tobe the ”bloofer lady” is supremely funny. Some of our caricaturistsmight, he says, take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by comparing thereality and the picture. It is only in accordance with generalprinciples of human nature that the ”bloofer lady” should be the popularrole at these _al fresco_ performances. Our correspondent naively saysthat even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly attractive as some ofthese grubby-faced little children pretend--and even imaginethemselves--to be.

There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question, for some ofthe children, indeed all who have been missed at night, have beenslightly torn or wounded in the throat. The wounds seem such as might bemade by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much importanceindividually, would tend to show that whatever animal inflicts them hasa system or method of its own. The police of the division have beeninstructed to keep a sharp look-out for straying children, especiallywhen very young, in and around Hampstead Heath, and for any stray dogwhich may be about.

_”The Westminster Gazette,” 25 September._

_Extra Special._

THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR.

ANOTHER CHILD INJURED.

_The ”Bloofer Lady.”_

We have just received intelligence that another child, missed lastnight, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at theShooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is, perhaps, lessfrequented than the other parts. It has the same tiny wound in thethroat as has been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, andlooked quite emaciated. It too, when partially restored, had the commonstory to tell of being lured away by the ”bloofer lady.”