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and black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the `
`
pretty girl. 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 was hard, and cruel, and sensual, and big white teeth, that `
`
looked all the 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. I feared he might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. `
`
I asked Jonathan why he was disturbed, and he answered, evidently `
`
thinking that I 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 `
`
to shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it `
`
was me, Mina, to whom he was speaking. "It is the man himself!" `
`
`
`
The poor dear was evidently terrified at something, very greatly `
`
terrified. I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to `
`
support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring. A man came out `
`
of the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then `
`
drove off. The dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the `
`
carriage moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and `
`
hailed a hansom. 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 `
`
be so! Oh, my God! My God! If only I knew! If only I knew!" He was `
`
distressing himself so much that I feared to keep his mind on the `
`
subject by asking him any questions, so I remained silent. I drew `
`
away quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a little `
`
further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It `
`
was a 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 he went quickly into a sleep, with his head on my `
`
shoulder. I thought it was the best thing for him, so did not disturb `
`
him. In about twenty minutes 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 forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his `
`
illness he had forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I `
`
don't like this lapsing into forgetfulness. It may make or continue `
`
some injury to the brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do `
`
more harm than good, but I must somehow learn the facts of his journey `
`
abroad. The time is come, I fear, when I must open the 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 homecoming in every way, the house empty of the dear `
`
soul who was so good to us. Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a `
`
slight relapse of his malady, and now a telegram from Van Helsing, `
`
whoever he may be. "You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra `
`
died five days ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They `
`
were both buried today." `
`
`
`
Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! Poor `
`
Lucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to `
`
have lost such a sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear `
`
our troubles. `
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-CONT. `
`
`
`
22 September.--It is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has `
`
taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I `
`
believe in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's `
`
death as any of us, but he bore himself through it like a moral `
`
Viking. If America can go on breeding men like that, she will be a `
`
power in the world indeed. Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest `
`
preparatory to his journey. He goes to Amsterdam tonight, but says he `
`
returns tomorrow night, that he only wants to make some arrangements `
`
which can only be made personally. He is to stop with me then, if he `
`
can. He says he has work to do in London which may take him some `
`
time. Poor old fellow! I fear that the strain of the past week has `
`
broken down even his iron strength. All the time of the burial he `
`
was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint on himself. When it `
`
was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who, poor fellow, was `
`
speaking of his part in the operation where his blood had been `
`
transfused to his Lucy's veins. I could see Van Helsing's face grow `
`
white and purple by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt since then `
`
as if they two had been really married, and that she was his wife in `
`
the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other operations, and `
`
none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away together to the `
`
station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The moment we were alone `
`
in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of hysterics. He has `
`
denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insisted that it was `
`
only his sense of humor asserting itself under very terrible `
`
conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down the `
`
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 woman `
`
does. I tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the `
`
circumstances, but it had no effect. Men and women are so different `
`
in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face `
`
grew grave 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 and forceful 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. But no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh `
`
he come just the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who `
`
knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not true laughter. `
`
No! He is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no `
`
person, he choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' `
`
Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young `
`
girl. I give my blood for her, though I am old and worn. I give my `
`
time, my skill, my sleep. I let my other sufferers want that she may `
`
have all. And yet I can laugh at her very grave, laugh when the clay `
`
from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say 'Thud, `
`
thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheek. My `
`
heart bleed for that poor boy, that dear boy, so of the age of mine `
`
own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes `
`
the same. `
`
`
`
"There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things `
`
that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart `
`
yearn to him as to no other man, not even you, friend John, for we are `
`
more level in experiences than father and son, yet even at such a `
`
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 of the `
`
sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek. Oh, friend John, it is a `
`
strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and `
`
troubles. And yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the `
`
tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and `
`
tears that burn as they fall, all dance together to the music that he `
`
make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, `
`
that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like `
`
ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears `
`
come, and like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps `
`
the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come `
`
like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again, and we bear to go `
`
on with our labor, what it may be." `
`
`
`
I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea, but as `
`
I did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As `
`
he answered me his face grew stern, and he said in quite a different `
`
tone, `
`
`
`
"Oh, it was the grim irony of it all, this so lovely lady garlanded `
`
with flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered `
`
if she were truly dead, she laid in that so fine marble house in that `
`
lonely churchyard, where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the `
`
mother who loved her, and whom she loved, and that sacred bell going `
`
'Toll! Toll! Toll!' so sad and slow, and those holy men, with the `
`
white garments of the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the `
`
time their eyes never on the page, and all of us with the bowed head. `
`
And all for what? She is dead, so! Is it not?" `
`
`
`
"Well, for the life of me, Professor," I said, "I can't see anything `
`
to laugh at in all that. Why, your expression makes it a harder `
`
puzzle than before. But even if the burial service was comic, what `
`
about poor Art and his trouble? Why his heart was simply breaking." `
`
`
`
"Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins `
`
had made 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, then `
`
what 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, though no 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 did `
`
not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He `
`
laid his hand on my arm, and said, `
`
`
`
"Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others `
`
when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust. `
`
If you could have looked into my heart then when I want to laugh, if `
`
you could have done so when the laugh arrived, if you could do so now, `
`
when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him, for he `
`
go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time, maybe you would `
`
perhaps 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 will `
`
sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her `
`
kin, a lordly death house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming `
`
London, 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 begin `
`
another. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will be to deal `
`
with different people and different themes, for here at the end, where `
`
the romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of `
`
my life-work, I say sadly and without hope, "FINIS". `
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY `
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`
`
The neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised `
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