Chapter 13

by Bram Stoker

　　DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont.The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day,so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together.I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbaneundertaker proved that his staff was afflicted, or blessed,with something of his own obsequious suavity. Even the womanwho performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me,in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had comeout from the death chamber,"She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilegeto attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do creditto our establishment!"I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This waspossible from the disordered state of things in the household.There were no relatives at hand, and as Arthur had to be backthe next day to attend at his father's funeral, we were unable tonotify any one who should have been bidden. Under the circumstances,Van Helsing and I took it upon ourselves to examine papers, etc.He insisted upon looking over Lucy's papers himself.I asked him why, for I feared that he, being a foreigner,might not be quite aware of English legal requirements,and so might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble.He answered me, "I know, I know. You forget that I ama lawyer as well as a doctor. But this is not altogetherfor the law. You knew that, when you avoided the coroner.I have more than him to avoid. There may be papers more,such as 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 tonight. For me, I watch here in the roomand in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I myself search for what may be.It is not well that her very thoughts go into the hands of strangers."I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hourhad found the name and address of Mrs. Westenra's solicitor andhad written to him. All the poor lady's papers were in order.Explicit directions regarding the place of burial were given.I had hardly sealed the letter, 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 to you.""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 I have, all that there was,only some letters and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun.But I have them here, and we shall for the present say nothing of them.I shall see that poor lad tomorrow evening, and, with his 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 you and I,and rest to recuperate. Tomorrow we shall have much to do,but for the tonight there is no need of us. Alas!"Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertakerhad certainly done his work well, for the room was turned intoa small chapelle ardente. There was a wilderness of beautifulwhite flowers, and death was made as little repulsive as might be.The end of the winding sheet was laid over the face.When the Professor bent over and turned it gently back,we both started at the beauty before us. The tall waxcandles showing a sufficient light to note it well.All Lucy's loveliness had come back to her in death,and the hours that had passed, instead of leaving traces of`decay's effacing fingers', had but restored the beauty of life,till positively I could not believe my eyes that I was lookingat a corpse.The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved heras I had, and there was no need for tears in his eyes.He said to me, "Remain till I return," and left the room.He came back with a handful of wild garlic from the boxwaiting in the hall, but which had not been opened,and placed the flowers amongst the others on and aroundthe bed. Then he took from his neck, inside his collar,a little gold crucifix, and placed it over the mouth.He restored the sheet to its place, and we came away.I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premonitory tap at the door,he entered, and at once began to speak."Tomorrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortem knives.""Must we make an autopsy?" I asked."Yes and no. I want to operate, but not what you think.Let me tell you now, but not a word to another. I want to cutoff her head and take out her heart. Ah! You a surgeon,and so shocked! You, whom I have seen with no trembleof hand or heart, do operations of life and death that makethe rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dearfriend John, that you loved her, and I have not forgottenit for is I that shall operate, and you must not help.I would like to do it tonight, but for Arthur I must not.He will be free after his father's funeral tomorrow, and he willwant to see her, to see it. Then, when she is coffined readyfor the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep.We shall unscrew the coffin lid, and shall do our operation,and then replace all, 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 nothing togain by it, no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge, why do it?Without such it is monstrous."For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said,with infinite tenderness, "Friend John, I pity your poorbleeding heart, and I love you the more because it does so bleed.If I could, I would take on myself the burden that you do bear.But there are things that you know not, but that you shall know,and bless me for knowing, though they are not pleasant things.John, my child, you have been my friend now many years,and yet did you ever know me to do any without good cause?I may err, I am but man, but I believe in all I do.Was it not for these causes that you send for me when the greattrouble came? Yes! Were you not amazed, nay horrified,when I would not let Arthur kiss his love, though she was dying,and snatched him away by all my strength? Yes! And yet yousaw how she thanked me, with her so beautiful dying eyes,her voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my rough old hand andbless me? Yes! And did you not hear 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 many years trust me. You have believe me weeks past,when there be things so strange that you might have well doubt.Believe me yet a little, friend John. If you trust me not,then I must tell what I think, and that is not perhaps well.And if I work, as work I shall, no matter trust or no trust,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 a moment and went on solemnly, "Friend John,there are strange and terrible days before us.Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to a good end.Will you not have faith in me?"I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open ashe went away, and watched him go to his room and close the door.As I stood without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silentlyalong the passage, she had her back to me, so did not see me,and go into the room where Lucy lay. The sight touched me.Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show itunasked to those we love. Here was a poor girl putting asidethe terrors which she naturally had of death to go watch aloneby the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poorclay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest.I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylightwhen Van Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came overto my bedside and said, "You need not trouble about the knives.We shall not do it.""Why not?" I asked. For his solemnity of the night beforehad greatly impressed 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 the woman who robbed the dead and the living.Her punishment will surely come, but not through me.She knew not altogether what she did, and thus unknowing,she only stole. Now we must wait." He went away on the word,leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new puzzleto grapple with.The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solicitor came,Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale.He was very genial and very appreciative of what we had done,and took off our hands all cares as to details. During lunchhe told us that Mrs. Westenra had for some time expected suddendeath from her heart, and had put her affairs in absolute order.He informed us that, with the exception of a certain entailedproperty of Lucy's father which now, in default of direct issue,went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole estate,real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood.When he had told us so much he went on,"Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition,and pointed out certain contingencies that might leave herdaughter either penniless or not so free as she should be to actregarding a matrimonial alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matterso far that we almost came into collision, for she asked usif we were or were not prepared to carry out her wishes.Of course, we had then no alternative but to accept.We were right in principle, and ninety-nine times out ofa hundred we should have 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 her wishes.For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have come intopossession of the property, and, even had she only survived her motherby five minutes, her property would, in case there were no will,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 the inheritors, being remote, would not be likely to abandon theirjust rights, for sentimental reasons regarding an entire stranger.I assure you, 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 which he was officially interested, of so great a tragedy,was an object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the dayand see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certaincomfort to us, since it assured us that we should not have to dreadhostile criticism as to any of our acts. Arthur was expected at fiveo'clock, so a little before that time we visited the death chamber.It was so in very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it.The undertaker, true to his craft, had made the best display he couldof his goods, and there was a mortuary air about the place that loweredour spirits at once.Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adhered to,explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon,it would be less harrowing to his feelings to see all that wasleft of his fiancee quite alone.The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity and exertedhimself to restore things to the condition in which we leftthem the night before, so that when Arthur came such shocksto his feelings as we could avoid were saved.Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken. Even his stalwart manhoodseemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his much-tried emotions.He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly attached to his father,and to lose him, and at such a time, was a bitter blow to him.With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he was sweetly courteous.But I could not help seeing that there was some constraint with him.The professor noticed it too, and motioned me to bring him upstairs.I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as I felt he would like tobe quite alone with her, but he took my arm and led me in, saying huskily,"You loved her too, old fellow. She told me all about it,and there was no friend had a closer place in her heart than you.I don't know how to thank 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 and laidhis head on my breast, crying, "Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do?The whole of life seems gone from me all at once, and there is nothingin the wide world for me to live for."I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not needmuch expression. A grip of the hand, the tightening of an armover the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions of sympathy dearto a man's heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away,and then I said softly to him, "Come and look at her."Together we moved over to the bed, and I liftedthe lawn from her face. God! How beautiful she was.Every hour seemed to be enhancing her loveliness.It frightened and amazed me somewhat. And as for Arthur, he fellto trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague.At last, 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 than Icould help, that it often happened that after death faces become softenedand even resolved into their youthful beauty, that this was especiallyso when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged suffering.I seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and after kneeling beside the couchfor a while and looking at her lovingly and long, he turned aside.I told him that that must be goodbye, as the coffin had to be prepared,so he went back and took her dead hand in his and kissed it, and bentover and kissed her forehead. He came away, fondly looking back overhis shoulder at her as he came.I left him in the drawing room, and told Van Helsing that he had said goodbye,so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's men to proceed withthe preperations and to screw up the coffin. When he came out of the roomagain I told him of Arthur's question, and he replied, "I am not surprised.Just now I doubted for a moment myself!"We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was tryingto make the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent alldinner time, but when 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 so recent."The Professor answered very sweetly, "I only used that namebecause I was in doubt. I must not call you `Mr.' and I havegrown to love you, yes, my dear boy, to love you, as Arthur."Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly."Call me what you will," he said. "I hope I may always havethe title of a friend. And let me say that I am at a lossfor words to thank you for your goodness to my poor dear."He paused a moment, and went on, "I know that she understoodyour goodness even better than I do. And if I was rude or inany way wanting at that time you acted so, you remember,"--the Professor nodded--"You must forgive me."He answered with a grave kindness, "I know it was hard for you toquite trust me then, for to trust such violence needs to understand,and I take it that you do not, that you cannot, trust me now, for youdo not yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall wantyou to trust when you cannot, and may not, and must not yet understand.But the time will come when your trust shall be whole and complete in me,and when you shall understand as though the sunlight himself shone through.Then you shall bless me from first to last for your own sake, and forthe sake of others, and for her dear sake to whom I swore to protect.""And indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly. "I shallin all ways trust you. I know and believe you have a verynoble heart, and you are Jack's friend, and you were hers.You shall do what you like."The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to speak,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.I want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's papers and letters.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 them before weknew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touch them,no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep them,if I may. Even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep them safe.No word shall be lost, and in the good time I shall give them back to you.It is a hard thing that I ask, but you will do it, will you not,for Lucy'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 I am doingwhat 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 be all pain, nor willthis pain be the last. We and you too, you most of all, dear boy,will have to pass through the bitter water before we reach the sweet.But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our duty,and all will be well!"I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Helsing did notgo to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patroling the house,and was never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin,strewn with the wild garlic flowers, which sent through the odorof lily and rose, a heavy, overpowering smell into the night.MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL22 September.--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleeping.It seems only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yethow much between then, in Whitby and all the world before me,Jonathan away and no news of him, and now, married to Jonathan,Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, rich, master of his business,Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and Jonathan with another attackthat may harm him. Some day he may ask me about it.Down it all goes. I am rusty in my shorthand, see what unexpectedprosperity 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 onlyourselves and the servants there, one or two old friends of hisfrom Exeter, his London agent, and a gentleman representing SirJohn Paxton, the President of the Incorporated Law Society.Jonathan and I stood hand in hand, and we felt that our bestand 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 fora while, so we sat down. But there were very few people there,and it was sad-looking and desolate to see so many empty chairs.It made us think of the empty chair at home. So we got upand walked down Piccadilly. Jonathan was holding me by the arm,the way he used to in the old days before I went to school.I felt it very improper, for you can't go on for some yearsteaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the pedantryof it biting into yourself a bit. But it was Jonathan,and he was my husband, and we didn't know anybody who saw us,and we didn't care if they did, so on we walked.I was looking at a very beautiful girl, in a big cart-wheel hat,sitting in a victoria outside Guiliano's, when I felt Jonathanclutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he said underhis breath, "My God!"I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that somenervous fit may upset him again. So I turned to him quickly,and asked him what it was that disturbed him.He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half interror and half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man,with a beaky nose and black moustache and pointed beard, who wasalso observing the pretty girl. He was looking at her so hardthat 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 whiterbecause 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 ifhe 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 himhe would have sunk down. He kept staring. A man came out of the shopwith a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove off.Th e dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriage movedup 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 thisbe 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 mindon 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 fora 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 hadreminded 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 emptyof the dear soul who was so good to us. Jonathan stillpale 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 fivedays 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 fellowis Quincey! I believe in my heart of hearts that he sufferedas much about Lucy's death as any of us, but he bore himselfthrough it like a moral Viking. If America can go on breedingmen 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 onlybe 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 hasbroken down even his iron strength. All the time of the burialhe 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 operationwhere 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 beenreally married, and that she was his wife in the sight of God.None of us said a word of the other operations, and noneof us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away togetherto the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here.The moment we were alone in the carriage he gave way to aregular fit of hysterics. He has denied to me since that itwas hysterics, and insisted that it was only his senseof humor asserting itself under very terrible conditions.He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down the blindslest 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 oneis to a woman under the circumstances, but it had no effect.Men and women are so different in manifestations of nervousstrength or weakness! Then when his face grew grave and sternagain I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a time.His reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was logicaland forceful and mysterious. He said,"Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I amnot sad, though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laughdid 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 youthat 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 howhe like. He ask no person, he choose no time of suitability.He say, `I am here.' Behold, in example I grieve my heartout 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 fromthe 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 ofthe 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 whenhe 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 experiencesthan father and son, yet even at such a moment King Laughhe come to me and shout and bellow in my ear,`Here I am!Here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bringsome of the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheek.Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a worldfull of miseries, and woes, and troubles. And yet when KingLaugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play.Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears thatburn as they fall, all dance together to the music that he makewith that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John,that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women arelike 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 offthe 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 quitea different tone,"Oh, it was the grim irony of it all, this so lovely lady garlandedwith flowers, that looked so fair as life, till one by one wewondered if she were truly dead, she laid in that so fine marblehouse 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 onthe 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 seeanything to laugh at in all that. Why, your expression makesit a harder puzzle than before. But even if the burialservice 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 veinshad 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 sweetmaid 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 Idid 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 otherswhen 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 youwould 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 sitover 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 differentpeople and different themes, for here at the end, where the romance of my lifeis told, ere I go back to take up the thread of my life-work, I say sadlyand without hope, "FINIS".THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERYThe neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exercisedwith a series of events which seem to run on lines parallelto those of what was known to the writers of headlinesand "The Kensington Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman,"or "The Woman in Black." During the past two or three daysseveral cases have occurred of young children straying fromhome or neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath.In all these cases the children were too young to give anyproperly intelligible account of themselves, but the consensusof their excuses is that they had been with a "bloofer lady."It has always been late in the evening when they havebeen missed, and on two occasions the children havenot been found until early in the following morning.It is generally supposed in the neighborhood that,as the first child missed gave as his reason for being awaythat a "bloofer lady" had asked him to come for a walk,the others had picked up the phrase and used it as occasion served.This is the more natural as the favorite game of the littleones at present is luring each other away by wiles.A correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny totspretending to be the"bloofer lady" is supremely funny.Some of our caricaturists might, he says, take a lesson inthe irony of grotesque by comparing the reality and the picture.It is only in accordance with general principles of humannature that the "bloofer lady" should be the popular roleat these al fresco performances. Our correspondent naivelysays that even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly attractiveas some of these grubby-faced little children pretend,and even imagine themselves, to be.There is, however, possibly a serious side to the question,for some of the children, indeed all who have been missedat night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throat.The wounds seem such as might be made by a rat or a small dog,and although of not much importance individually, would tendto show that whatever animal inflicts them has a systemor method of its own. The police of the division have beeninstructed to keep a sharp lookout for straying children,especially when very young, in and around Hampstead Heath,and for any stray dog which may be about.THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER EXTRA SPECIALTHE HAMPSTEAD HORRORANOTHER CHILD INJUREDTHE "BLOOFER LADY"We have just received intelligence that another child,missed last night, was only discovered late in the morningunder a furze bush at the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath,which is perhaps, less frequented than the other parts.It has the same tiny wound in the throat as has been noticedin other cases. It was terribly weak, and looked quite emaciated.It too, when partially restored, had the common story to tellof being lured away by the "bloofer lady".