No More Learning

And then, to follow of your Lordship's wishes, I shall
hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you, when and where
you will. " His voice broke a little, and he went on with an accent full
of pity:--

"But, I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a long life of
acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which sometimes did wring
my heart, I have never had so heavy a task as now. Believe me that if
the time comes for you to change your mind towards me, one look from you
will wipe away all this so sad hour, for I would do what a man can to
save you from sorrow. Just think. For why should I give myself so much
of labour and so much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land to
do what I can of good; at the first to please my friend John, and then
to help a sweet young lady, whom, too, I came to love. For her--I am
ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness--I gave what you gave:
the blood of my veins; I gave it, I, who was not, like you, her lover,
but only her physician and her friend. I gave to her my nights and
days--before death, after death; and if my death can do her good even
now, when she is the dead Un-Dead, she shall have it freely. " He said
this with a very grave, sweet pride, and Arthur was much affected by it.
He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice:--

"Oh, it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand; but at least I
will go with you and wait. "




CHAPTER XVI.

/Dr. Seward's Diary/--_continued. _


It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into the
churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark, with occasional
gleams of moonlight between the rents of the heavy clouds that scudded
across the sky. We all kept somehow close together, with Van Helsing
slightly in front as he led the way. When we had come close to the tomb
I looked well at Arthur, for I feared that the proximity to a place
laden with so sorrowful a memory would upset him; but he bore himself
well. I took it that the very mystery of the proceeding tended in some
way a counteractent to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and
seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons, solved the
difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us followed, and he
closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and pointed to the coffin.
Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly; Van Helsing said to me:--

"You were with me here yesterday. Was the body of Miss Lucy in that
coffin? "

"It was. " The Professor turned to the rest, saying:--

"You hear; and yet there is one who does not believe with me. " He
took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the coffin. Arthur
looked on, very pale but silent; when the lid was removed he stepped
forward. He evidently did not know that there was a leaden coffin, or,
at any rate, had not thought of it. When he saw the rent in the lead,
the blood rushed to his face for an instant, but as quickly fell away
again, so that he remained of a ghastly whiteness; he was still silent.
Van Helsing forced back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and
recoiled.

The coffin was empty!

For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was broken by
Quincey Morris:--

"Professor, I answered for you. Your word is all I want. I wouldn't
ask such a thing ordinarily--I wouldn't so dishonour you as to imply a
doubt; but this is a mystery that goes beyond any honour or dishonour.
Is this your doing? "

"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not removed nor
touched her. What happened was this: Two nights ago my friend Seward and
I came here--with good purpose, believe me. I opened that coffin, which
was then sealed up, and we found it, as now, empty. We then waited, and
saw something white come through the trees. The next day we came here in
daytime, and she lay there. Did she not, friend John? "

"Yes. "

"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was missing,
and we find it, thank God, unharmed amongst the graves. Yesterday I came
here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead can move. I waited here
all the night till the sun rose, but I saw nothing. It was most probable
that it was because I had laid over the clamps of those doors garlic,
which the Un-Dead cannot bear, and other things which they shun. Last
night there was no exodus, so to-night before the sundown I took away
my garlic and other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But
bear with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me
outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to be.
So"--here he shut the dark slide of his lantern--"now to the outside. "
He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last and locking the
door behind him.

Oh! but it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the terror
of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race by, and the
brief gleams of the moonlight between the scudding clouds crossing and
passing--like the gladness and sorrow of a man's life; how sweet it
was to breathe the fresh air, that had no taint of death and decay;
how humanising to see the red lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and
to hear far away the muffled roar that marks the life of a great city.
Each in his own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and
was, I could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning
of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half inclined again
to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's conclusions. Quincey
Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man who accepts all things, and
accepts them in the spirit of cool bravery, with hazard of all he has
to stake. Not being able to smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug
of tobacco and began to chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a
definite way. First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like
thin, wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white
napkin; next he took out a double-handful of some whitish stuff, like
dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it into the
mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling it into thin
strips, began to lay them into the crevices between the door and its
setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at this, and being close,
asked him what it was that he was doing. Arthur and Quincey drew near
also, as they too were curious. He answered:--

"I am closing the tomb, so that the Un-Dead may not enter. "

"And is that stuff you have put there going to do it? " asked Quincey.
"Great Scott! Is this a game? "

"It is. "

"What is that which you are using? " This time the question was by
Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he answered:--

"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an Indulgence. " It was an
answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and we felt individually
that in the presence of such earnest purpose as the Professor's, a
purpose which could thus use the to him most sacred of things, it
was impossible to distrust. In respectful silence we took the places
assigned to us close round the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any
one approaching. I pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself
been apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror; and yet
I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my heart sink
within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white; never did cypress,
or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funereal gloom; never did
tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously; never did bough creak so
mysteriously; and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a
woeful presage through the night.

There was a long spell of silence, a big, aching void, and then from
the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s! " He pointed; and far down the avenue
of yews we saw a white figure advance--a dim white figure, which held
something dark at its breast. The figure stopped, and at the moment a
ray of moonlight fell between the masses of driving clouds and showed in
startling prominence a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of
the grave. We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we
saw to be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little cry,
such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and
dreams. We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen
by us as he stood behind a yew-tree, kept us back; and then as we looked
the white figure moved forwards again. It was now near enough for us to
see clearly, and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as
ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognised the features
of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The sweetness was
turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the purity to voluptuous
wantonness. Van Helsing stepped out, and, obedient to his gesture, we
all advanced too; the four of us ranged in a line before the door of
the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide; by the
concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see that the lips
were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream had trickled over her
chin and stained the purity of her lawn death-robe.

We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light that even
Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next to me, and if I had
not seized his arm and held him up, he would have fallen.

When Lucy--I call the thing that was before us Lucy because it bore her
shape--saw us she drew back with an angry snarl, such as a cat gives
when taken unawares; then her eyes ranged over us. Lucy's eyes in form
and colour; but Lucy's eyes unclean and full of hell-fire, instead of
the pure, gentle orbs we knew. At that moment the remnant of my love
passed into hate and loathing; had she then to be killed, I could have
done it with savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy
light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh, God,
how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion, she flung
to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up to now she had
clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over it as a dog growls
over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and lay there moaning. There
was a cold-bloodedness in the act which wrung a groan from Arthur; when
she advanced to him with outstretched arms and a wanton smile, he fell
back and hid his face in his hands.

She still advanced, however, and with a languorous, voluptuous grace,
said:--

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are
hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come! "

There was something diabolically sweet in her tones--something of the
tingling of glass when struck--which rang through the brains even of us
who heard the words addressed to another. As for Arthur, he seemed under
a spell; moving his hands from his face, he opened wide his arms. She
was leaping for them, when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between
them his little golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a
suddenly distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter
the tomb.

When within a foot or two of the door, however, she stopped as if
arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and her face was
shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the lamp, which had now
no quiver from Van Helsing's iron nerves. Never did I see such baffled
malice on a face; and never, I trust, shall such ever be seen again
by mortal eyes. The beautiful colour became livid, the eyes seemed to
throw out sparks of hell-fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the
folds of the flesh were the coils of Medusa's snakes, and the lovely,
blood-stained mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of
the Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death--if looks could
kill--we saw it at that moment.

And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, she remained
between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of her means of
entry. Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur:--

"Answer me, oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work? "

Arthur threw himself on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, as he
answered:--

"Do as you will, friend; do as you will. There can be no horror
like this ever any more! " and he groaned in spirit. Quincey and I
simultaneously moved towards him, and took his arms. We could hear
the click of the closing lantern as Van Helsing held it down; coming
close to the tomb, he began to remove from the chinks some of the
sacred emblem which he had placed there. We all looked on in horrified
amazement as we saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal
body as real at the moment as our own, pass in through the interstice
where scarce a knife-blade could have gone. We all felt a glad sense of
relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the strings of putty
to the edges of the door.

When this was done, he lifted the child and said:--

"Come now, my friends; we can do no more till to-morrow. There is a
funeral at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The
friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton lock
the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do; but not like this of
to-night. As for this little one, he is not much harm, and by to-morrow
night he shall be well. We shall leave him where the police will find
him, as on the other night; and then to home. " Coming close to Arthur,
he said:--

"My friend Arthur, you have had sore trial; but after, when you will
look back, you will see how it was necessary. You are now in the
bitter waters, my child. By this time tomorrow, you will, please God,
have passed them, and have drunk of the sweet waters; so do not mourn
overmuch. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me. "

Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each other
on the way. We had left the child in safety, and were tired; so we all
slept with more or less reality of sleep.

_29 September, night. _--A little before twelve o'clock we three--Arthur,
Quincey Morris, and myself--called for the Professor. It was odd to
notice that by common consent we had all put on black clothes. Of
course, Arthur wore black, for he was in deep mourning, but the rest of
us wore it by instinct. We got to the churchyard by half-past one, and
strolled about, keeping out of official observation, so that when the
gravediggers had completed their task, and the sexton, under the belief
that everyone had gone, had locked the gate, we had the place all to
ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black bag, had with him a
long leather one, something like a cricketing bag; it was manifestly of
fair weight.

When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps die out up
the road, we silently, and as if by ordered intention, followed the
Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the door, and we entered, closing
it behind us. Then he took from his bag the lantern, which he lit, and
also two wax candles, which, when lighted, he stuck, by melting their
own ends, on other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient
to work by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all
looked--Arthur trembling like an aspen--and saw that the body lay there
in all its death-beauty. But there was no love in my own heart, nothing
but loathing for the foul Thing which had taken Lucy's shape without her
soul. I could see even Arthur's face grow hard as he looked. Presently
he said to Van Helsing:--

"Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape? "

"It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you shall see her
as she was, and is. "

She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there; the pointed
teeth, the bloodstained, voluptuous mouth--which it made one shudder
to see--the whole carnal and unspiritual appearance, seeming like
a devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van Helsing, in his
methodicalness, began taking the various contents from his bag and
placing them ready for use. First he took out a soldering iron and some
plumbing solder, and then a small oil-lamp, which gave out, when lit in
a corner of the tomb, gas which burned at fierce heat with a blue flame;
then his operating knives, which he placed to hand; and last a round
wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick and about three
feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in the fire, and was
sharpened to a fine point. With this stake came a heavy hammer, such
as in households is used in the coal-cellar for breaking the lumps. To
me, a doctor's preparations for work of any kind are stimulating and
bracing, but the effect of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was
to cause them a sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their
courage, and remained silent and quiet.

When all was ready, Van Helsing said:--

"Before we do anything, let me tell you this; it is out of the lore and
experience of the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers
of the Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the
curse of immortality; they cannot die, but must go on age after age
adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world; for all that
die from the preying of the Un-Dead become themselves Un-Dead, and prey
on their kind. And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the
ripples from a stone thrown in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had
met that kiss which you know of before poor Lucy die; or again, last
night when you open your arms to her, you would in time, when you had
died, have become _nosferatu_, as they call it in Eastern Europe, and
would all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have fill us with
horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just begun.
Those children whose blood she suck are not as yet so much the worse;
but if she live on, Un-Dead, more and more they lose their blood, and
by her power over them they come to her; and so she draw their blood
with that so wicked mouth. But if she die in truth, then all cease; the
tiny wounds of the throats disappear, and they go back to their plays
unknowing ever of what has been. But of the most blessed of all, when
this now Un-Dead be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor
lady whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness by
night and growing more debased in the assimilation of it by day, she
shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my friend, it will
be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the blow that sets her free.
To this I am willing; but is there none amongst us who has a better
right? Will it be no joy to think of hereafter in the silence of the
night when sleep is not: 'It was my hand that sent her to the stars; it
was the hand of him that loved her best; the hand that of all she would
herself have chosen, had it been to her to choose'? Tell me if there be
such a one amongst us. "

We all looked at Arthur. He saw, too, what we all did, the infinite
kindness which suggested that his should be the hand which would restore
Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy, memory; he stepped forward and
said bravely, though his hand trembled, and his face was as pale as
snow:--

"My true friend, from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me
what I am to do, and I shall not falter! " Van Helsing laid a hand on his
shoulder, and said:--

"Brave lad! A moment's courage, and it is done. This stake must be
driven through her. It will be a fearful ordeal--be not deceived in
that--but it will be only a short time, and you will then rejoice more
than your pain was great; from this grim tomb you will emerge as though
you tread on air. But you must not falter when once you have begun. Only
think that we, your true friends, are round you, and that we pray for
you all the time. "

"Go on," said Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me what I am to do. "

"Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place the point over the
heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we begin our prayer for
the dead--I shall read him, I have here the book, and the others shall
follow--strike in God's name, that so all may be well with the dead that
we love, and that the Un-Dead pass away. "

Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once his mind was set on
action his hands never trembled nor even quivered. Van Helsing opened
his missal and began to read, and Quincey and I followed as well as we
could. Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I could
see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all his might.

The Thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling screech
came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted
in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the
lips were cut and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur
never faltered.
He looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm
rose and fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercy-bearing stake, whilst
the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around it. His
face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it; the sight of it
gave us courage, so that our voices seemed to ring through the little
vault.

And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less, and the
teeth ceased to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally it lay still. The
terrible task was over.

The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and would have fallen had
we not caught him. Great drops of sweat sprang out on his forehead, and
his breath came in broken gasps. It had indeed been an awful strain
on him; and had he not been forced to his task by more than human
considerations he could never have gone through with it. For a few
minutes we were so taken up with him that we did not look towards the
coffin. When we did, however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one
to the other of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had
been seated on the ground, and came and looked too; and then a glad,
strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the gloom of
horror that lay upon it.

There in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we had so dreaded
and grown to hate that the work of her destruction was yielded as a
privilege to the one best entitled to it, but Lucy as we had seen her in
her life, with her face of unequalled sweetness and purity. True that
there was there, as we had seen them in life, the traces of care and
pain and waste; but these were all dear to us, for they marked her truth
to what we knew. One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like
sunshine over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and
symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever.

Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and said to
him:--

"And now, Arthur, my friend, dear lad, am I not forgiven? "

The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old man's hand
in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and said:--

"Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one her soul again,
and me peace. " He put his hands on the Professor's shoulder, and laying
his head on his breast, cried for a while silently, whilst we stood
unmoving. When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him:--

"And now, my child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as
she would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a grinning
devil now--not any more a foul Thing for all eternity. No longer she is
the devil's Un-Dead. She is God's true dead, whose soul is with Him! "

Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey out of the
tomb; the Professor and I sawed the top off the stake, leaving the point
of it in the body. Then we cut off the head and filled the mouth with
garlic. We soldered up the leaden coffin, screwed on the coffin-lid, and
gathering up our belongings, came away. When the Professor locked the
door he gave the key to Arthur.

Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang, and it
seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch. There was
gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were at rest ourselves
on one account, and we were glad, though it was with a tempered joy.

Before we moved away Van Helsing said:--

"Now, my friends, one step of our work is done, one the most harrowing
to ourselves. But there remains a greater task: to find out the author
of all this our sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can
follow; but it is a long task, and a difficult, and there is danger in
it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have learned to believe, all
of us--is it not so? And since so, do we not see our duty? Yes! And do
we not promise to go on to the bitter end? "

Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made. Then said the
Professor as we moved off:--

"Two nights hence you shall meet with me and dine together at seven of
the clock with friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you
know not as yet; and I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans
unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have much to consult
about, and you can help me. To-night I leave for Amsterdam, but shall
return to-morrow night. And then begins our great quest. But first
I shall have much to say, so that you may know what is to do and to
dread. Then our promise shall be made to each other anew; for there is
a terrible task before us, and once our feet are on the ploughshare, we
must not draw back. "




CHAPTER XVII.

/Dr. Seward's Diary/--_continued. _


When we arrived at the Berkeley Hotel, Van Helsing found a telegram
waiting for him:--

"Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news. --/Mina
Harker. /"

The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina," he said,
"pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must go to your
house, friend John. You must meet her at the station. Telegraph her _en
route_, so that she may be prepared. "

When the wire was despatched he had a cup of tea; over it he told me of
a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me a typewritten
copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby. "Take these," he
said, "and study them well. When I have returned you will be master of
all the facts, and we can then better enter on our inquisition. Keep
them safe, for there is in them much of treasure. You will need all
your faith, even you who have had such an experience as that of to-day.
What is here told," he laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet
of papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of the end to you and me
and many another; or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk
the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open mind; and if you can
add in any way to the story here told do so, for it is all-important.
You have kept diary of all these so strange things; is it not so? Yes!
Then we shall go through all these together when that we meet. " He then
made ready for his departure, and shortly after drove off to Liverpool
Street. I took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen
minutes before the train came in.

The crowd melted away after the bustling fashion common to arrival
platforms; and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might miss my
guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty-looking girl stepped up to me, and,
after a quick glance, said: "Dr. Seward, is it not? "

"And you are Mrs. Harker! " I answered at once; whereupon she held out
her hand.

"I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy; but----" She stopped
suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.

The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at ease, for
it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage, which included a
typewriter, and we took the Underground to Fenchurch Street, after I
had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have a sitting-room and bedroom
prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.

In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was a
lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a slight
shudder when we entered.

She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, as
she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in my phonograph
diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the chance of looking
at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they lie open
before me. I must get her interested in something, so that I may have an
opportunity of reading them. She does not know how precious time is, or
what a task we have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her. Here
she is!


/Mina Harker's Journal. /

_29 September. _--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr. Seward's
study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him talking
with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to be quick, I knocked at
the door, and on his calling out, "Come in," I entered.

To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite alone,
and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the
description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was much
interested.

"I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said; "but I stayed at the door
as I heard you talking, and thought there was some one with you. "

"Oh," he replied, with a smile, "I was only entering my diary. "

"Your diary? " I asked him in surprise.

"Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this. " As he spoke he laid his hand on
the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted out:--

"Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say something? "

"Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in train
for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread his face.

"The fact is," he began awkwardly, "I only keep my diary in it; and as
it is entirely--almost entirely--about my cases, it may be awkward--that
is, I mean----" He stopped, and I tried to help him out of his
embarrassment:--

"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she died;
for all that I can know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was very,
very dear to me. "

To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his face:--

"Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world! "

"Why not? " I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming over me.
Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an excuse.
At length he stammered out:--

"You see, I do not know how to pick out any particular part of the
diary. " Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he
said with unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the
naivete of a child: "That's quite true, upon my honour. Honest Indian! "
I could not but smile, at which he grimaced. "I gave myself away that
time! " he said. "But do you know that, although I have kept the diary
for months past, it never once struck me how I was going to find any
particular part of it in case I wanted to look it up? " By this time my
mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who attended Lucy might have
something to add to the sum of our knowledge of that terrible Being,
and I said boldly:--

"Then, Dr. Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my
typewriter. " He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said:--

"No! no! no! For all the world, I wouldn't let you know that terrible
story! "

Then it was terrible; my intuition was right! For a moment I thought,
and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for something or
some opportunity to aid me, they lit on the great batch of typewriting
on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and, without his
thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the parcel he realised
my meaning.

"You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those papers--my
own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed--you will know me
better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my own heart in
this cause; but, of course, you do not know me--yet; and I must not
expect you to trust me so far. "

He is certainly a man of noble nature; poor dear Lucy was right about
him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were arranged in
order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered with dark wax, and
said:--

"You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know you.
But I know you now; and let me say that I should have known you long
ago. I know that Lucy told you of me; she told me of you too. May I make
the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders and hear them--the
first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and they will not horrify
you; then you will know me better. Dinner will by then be ready. In the
meantime I shall read over some of these documents, and shall be better
able to understand certain things. " He carried the phonograph himself up
to my sitting-room and adjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something
pleasant, I am sure; for it will tell me the other side of a true love
episode of which I know one side already. . . .


_Dr. Seward's Diary. _

_29 September. _--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of Jonathan
Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run on without
thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to announce
dinner, so I said: "She is possibly tired; let dinner wait an hour;"
and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs. Harker's diary,
when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her eyes
were flushed with crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I have had
cause for tears, God knows! but the relief of them was denied me; and
now the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened with recent tears, went
straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could:--

"I greatly fear I have distressed you. "

"Oh no, not distressed me," she replied, "but I have been more touched
than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine, but it is
cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish of your heart.
It was like a soul crying out to almighty God. No one must hear them
spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be useful. I have copied out the
words on my typewriter, and none other need now hear your heart beat, as
I did. "

"No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low voice. She
laid her hand on mine and said very gravely:--

"Ah, but they must! "

"Must! But why? " I asked.

"Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor dear Lucy's
death and all that led to it; because in the struggle which we have
before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must have all the
knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think that the cylinders
which you gave me contained more than you intended me to know; but I
can see that there are in your record many lights to this dark mystery.
You will let me help, will you not? I know all up to a certain point,
and I see already, though your diary only took me to 7 September, how
poor Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought out.
Jonathan and I have been working day and night since Professor Van
Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more information, and he
will be here to-morrow to help us. We need have no secrets amongst us;
working together and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than
if some of us were in the dark. " She looked at me so appealingly, and at
the same time manifested such courage and resolution in her bearing,
that I gave in at once to her wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you
like in the matter. God forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible
things yet to learn of; but if you have so far travelled on the road to
poor Lucy's death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the
dark. Nay, the end--the very end--may give you a gleam of peace. Come,
there is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is before us;
we have a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn
the rest, and I will answer any questions you ask--if there be anything
which you do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were
present. "


/Mina Harker's Journal. /

_29 September. _--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study. He
brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took my typewriter. He
placed me in a comfortable chair, and arranged the phonograph so that I
could touch it without getting up, and showed me how to stop it in case
I should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with his
back to me, so that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I
put the forked metal to my ears and listened.

When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and--and all that followed,
was done, I lay back in my chair powerless.