-This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed cudgelling my brains, I heard without a crackling of whips and pounding and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyardWith joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two great leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty sheepskin, and high bootsThey had also their long staves in handI ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for themAgain a shock, my door was fastened on the outside Then I ran to the window and cried to themThey looked up at me stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came out, and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which they laughed Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonized entreaty, would make them even look at meThey resolutely turned awayThe leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick ropeThese were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved When they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of the yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting on it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's headShortly afterwards, I heard the crackling of their whips die away in the distance-Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself into his own roomAs soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened SouthI thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going onThe Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some kindI know it, for now and then, I hear a far-away muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some ruthless villainy I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw something coming out of the Count's windowI drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man emergeIt was a new shock to me to find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen the women take awayThere could be no doubt as to his quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil, that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local people be attributed to me It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which is even a criminal's right and consolation I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time sat doggedly at the windowThen I began to notice that there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlightThey were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of wayI watched them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over meI leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more fully the aerial gambolling Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sightLouder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating moats of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlightI felt myself struggling to awake to some call of my instinctsNay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the callI was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dustThe moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyondMore and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapesAnd then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the place The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those three ghostly women to whom I was doomed I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight, and where the lamp was burning brightly When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the Count's room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressedAnd then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled shop me

?I can do it on my own responsibility,? said George, with the same proud smile We remark, en passant, that George was, by his father?s side, of white descentHis mother was one of those unfortunates of her race, marked out by personal beauty to be the slave of the passions of her possessor, and the mother of children who may never know a fatherFrom one of the proudest families in Kentucky he had inherited a set of fine European features, and a high, indomitable spiritFrom his mother he had received only a slight mulatto tinge, amply compensated by its accompanying rich, dark eyeA slight change in the tint of the skin and the color of his hair had metamorphosed him into the Spanish-looking fellow he then appeared; and as gracefulness of movement and gentlemanly manners had always been perfectly natural to him, he found no difficulty in playing the bold part he had adopted?that of a gentleman travelling with his domesticWilson, a good-natured but extremely fidgety and cautious old gentleman, ambled up and down the room, appearing, as John Bunyan hath it, ?much tumbled up and down in his mind,? and divided between his wish to help George, and a certain confused notion of maintaining law and order: so, as he shambled about, he delivered himself as follows: ?Well, George, I s?pose you?re running away?leaving your lawful master, George?(I don?t wonder at it)?at the same time, I?m sorry, George,?yes, decidedly?I think I must say that, George?it?s my duty to tell you so ?Why are you sorry, sir?? said George, calmly ?Why, to see you, as it were, setting yourself in opposition to the laws of your country ?My country!? said George, with a strong and bitter emphasis; ?what country have I, but the grave,?and I wish to God that I was laid there!? ?Why, George, no?no?it won?t do; this way of talking is wicked?unscripturalGeorge, you?ve got a hard master?in fact, he is?well he conducts himself reprehensibly?I can?t pretend to defend himBut you know how the angel commanded Hagar to return to her mistress, and submit herself under the hand;1 and the apostle sent back Onesimus to his master2 ?Don?t quote Bible at me that way, MrWilson,? said George, with a flashing eye, ?don?t! for my wife is a Christian, and I mean to be, if ever I get to where I can; but to quote Bible to a fellow in my circumstances, is enough to make him give it up altogetherI appeal to God Almighty;?I?m willing to go with the case to Him, and ask Him if I do wrong to seek my freedom ?These feelings are quite natural, George,? said the good-natured man, blowing his nose?Yes, they?re natural, but it is my duty not to encourage ?em in youYes, my boy, I?m sorry for you, now; it?s a bad case?very bad; but the apostle says, ?Let everyone abide in the condition in which he is called We must all submit to the indications of Providence, George,?don?t you see?? George stood with his head drawn back, his arms folded tightly over his broad breast, and a bitter smile curling his lipsWilson, if the Indians should come and take you a prisoner away from your wife and children, and want to keep you all your life hoeing corn for them, if you?d think it your duty to abide in the condition in which you were calledI rather think that you?d think the first stray horse you could find an indication of Providence?shouldn?t you?? The little old gentleman stared with both eyes at this illustration of the case; but, though not much of a reasoner, he had the sense in which some logicians on this particular subject do not excel,?that of saying nothing, where nothing could be saidSo, as he stood carefully stroking his umbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, he proceeded on with his exhortations in a general way ?You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend; and whatever I?ve said, I?ve said for your goodNow, here, it seems to me, you?re running an awful riskYou can?t hope to carry it outIf you?re taken, it will be worse with you than ever; they?ll only abuse you, and half kill you, and sell you down the riverWilson, I know all this,? said George?I do run a risk, but?? he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife?There!? he said, ?I?m ready for ?em! Down south I never will go No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of free soil,?the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!? ?Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it?s getting really desperate GeorgeGoing to break the laws of your country!? ?My country again! MrWilson, you have a country; but what country have I, or any one like me, born of slave mothers? What laws are there for us? We don?t make them,?we don?t consent to them,?we have nothing to do with them; all they do for us is to crush us, and keep us downHaven?t I heard your Fourth-of-July speeches? Don?t you tell us all, once a year, that governments derive their just power from the consent of the governed? Can?t a fellow think, that hears such things? Can?t he put this and that together, and see what it comes to?? MrWilson?s mind was one of those that may not unaptly be represented by a bale of cotton,?downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy and confusedHe really pitied George with all his heart, and had a sort of dim and cloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him; but he deemed it his duty to go on talking good to him, with infinite pertinacity ?George, this is badI must tell you, you know, as a friend, you?d better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, very bad, for boys in your condition,?very;? and MrWilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrellaWilson,? said George, coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; ?look at me, nowDon?t I sit before you, every way, just as much a man as you are? Look at my face,?look at my hands,?look at my body,? and the young man drew himself up proudly; ?why am I not a man, as much as anybody? Well, shop Mr

Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay MrHe raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to me, "Hush! Go back to bedOne of us will be here all nightWe don't mean to take any chances!" His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and told MinaShe sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole over her poor, pale face as she put her arms round me and said softly, "Oh, thank God for good brave men!" With a sigh she sank back again to sleepI write this now as I am not sleepy, though I must try again 4 October, morning-Once again during the night I was wakened by MinaThis time we had all had a good sleep, for the grey of the coming dawn was making the windows into sharp oblongs, and the gas flame was like a speck rather than a disc of light She said to me hurriedly, "Go, call the ProfessorI want to see him at onceI suppose it must have come in the night, and matured without my knowing itHe must hypnotize me before the dawn, and then I shall be able to speakGo quick, dearest, the time is getting close I went to the doorSeward was resting on the mattress, and seeing me, he sprang to his feet "Is anything wrong?" he asked, in alarm"But Mina wants to see Dr "I will go," he said, and hurried into the Professor's room Two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his dressing gown, and MrMorris and Lord Godalming were with DrSeward at the door asking questionsWhen the Professor saw Mina a smile, a positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face He rubbed his hands as he said, "Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this is indeed a changeSee! Friend Jonathan, we have got our dear Madam Mina, as of old, back to us today!" Then turning to her, he said cheerfully, "And what am I to do for you? For at this hour you do not want me for nothing "I want you to hypnotize me!" she said"Do it before the dawn, for I feel that then I can speak, and speak freelyBe quick, for the time is short!" Without a word he motioned her to sit up in bed Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in front of her, from over the top of her head downward, with each hand in turnMina gazed at him fixedly for a few minutes, during which my own heart beat like a trip hammer, for I felt that some crisis was at handGradually her eyes closed, and she sat, stock stillOnly by the gentle heaving of her bosom could one know that she was aliveThe Professor made a few more passes and then stopped, and I could see that his forehead was covered with great beads of perspirationMina opened her eyes, but she did not seem the same womanThere was a far-away look in her eyes, and her voice had a sad dreaminess which was new to meRaising his hand to impose silence, the Professor motioned to me to bring the others inThey came on tiptoe, closing the door behind them, and stood at the foot of the bed, looking onMina appeared not to see themThe stillness was broken by Van Helsing's voice speaking in a low level tone which would not break the current of her thoughts "Where are you?" The answer came in a neutral shop way

?Was ever such a sneaking varmint?? said one of the men; ?to come on his business, and he clear out and leave us this yer way!? ?Well, we must pick up that feller,? said another?Cuss me if I much care whether he is dead or alive The men, led by the groans of Tom, scrambled and crackled through stumps, logs and bushes, to where that hero lay groaning and swearing with alternate vehemence ?Ye keep it agoing pretty loud, Tom,? said one?Ye much hurt?? ?Don?t knowGet me up, can?t ye? Blast that infernal Quaker! If it hadn?t been for him, I?d a pitched some on ?em down here, to see how they liked it With much labor and groaning, the fallen hero was assisted to rise; and, with one holding him up under each shoulder, they got him as far as the horses ?If you could only get me a mile back to that ar tavernGive me a handkerchief or something, to stuff into this place, and stop this infernal bleeding George looked over the rocks, and saw them trying to lift the burly form of Tom into the saddleAfter two or three ineffectual attempts, he reeled, and fell heavily to the ground ?O, I hope he isn?t killed!? said Eliza, who, with all the party, stood watching the proceeding ?Why not?? said Phineas; ?serves him right ?Because after death comes the judgment,? said Eliza ?Yes,? said the old woman, who had been groaning and praying, in her Methodist fashion, during all the encounter, ?it?s an awful case for the poor crittur?s soul ?On my word, they?re leaving him, I do believe,? said Phineas It was true; for after some appearance of irresolution and consultation, the whole party got on their horses and rode awayWhen they were quite out of sight, Phineas began to bestir himself ?Well, we must go down and walk a piece,? he said?I told Michael to go forward and bring help, and be along back here with the wagon; but we shall have to walk a piece along the road, I reckon, to meet themThe Lord grant he be along soon! It?s early in the day; there won?t be much travel afoot yet a while; we an?t much more than two miles from our stopping-placeIf the road hadn?t been so rough last night, we could have outrun ?em entirely As the party neared the fence, they discovered in the distance, along the road, their own wagon coming back, accompanied by some men on horseback ?Well, now, there?s Michael, and Stephen and Amariah,? exclaimed Phineas, joyfully?Now we are made?as safe as if we?d got there ?Well, do stop, then,? said Eliza, ?and do something for that poor man; he?s groaning dreadfully ?It would be no more than Christian,? said George; ?let?s take him up and carry him on ?And doctor him up among the Quakers!? said Phineas; ?pretty well, that! Well, I don?t care if we doHere, let?s have a look at him;? and Phineas, who in the course of his hunting and backwoods life had acquired some rude experience of surgery, kneeled down by the wounded man, and began a careful examination of his condition ?Marks,? said Tom, feebly, ?is that you, Marks?? ?No; I reckon ?tan?t friend,? said Phineas?Much Marks cares for thee, if his own skin?s safe ?I believe I?m done for,? said Tom?The cussed sneaking dog, to leave me to die alone! My poor old mother always told me ?t would be so ?La sakes! jist hear the poor critturHe?s got a mammy, now,? said the old negress?I can?t help kinder pityin? on him ?Softly, softly; don?t thee snap and snarl, friend,? said Phineas, as Tom winced and pushed his hand away?Thee has no chance, unless I stop the bleeding And Phineas busied himself with making some off-hand surgical arrangements with his own pocket-handkerchief, and such as could be mustered in the company ?You pushed me down there,? said Tom, shop faintly

And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kindAh, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different waysThen tears come, and like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we breakBut 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 himAs 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 headAnd 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 thatWhy, your expression makes it a harder puzzle than beforeBut even if the burial service was comic, what about poor Art and his trouble? Why his heart was simply breakingSaid 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 himBut there was a difficulty, friend JohnIf 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 thingsHe laid his hand on my arm, and said, "Friend John, forgive me if I painI showed not my feeling to others when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trustIf 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 wingsLucy 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 anotherIf 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 The neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exercised with a series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of what was known to the writers of headlines as "The Kensington Horror," or "The Stabbing Woman," or "The Woman in Black During the past two or three days several cases have occurred of young children straying from home or neglecting to return from their playing on the HeathIn all these cases the children were too young to give any properly intelligible account of themselves, but the consensus of their excuses is that they had been with a "bloofer lady It has always been late in the evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions the children have not been found until early in the following morningIt is generally supposed in the neighborhood that, as the first child missed gave as his reason for being away that a "bloofer lady" had asked him to come for a walk, the others had picked up the phrase and used it as occasion servedThis is the more natural as the favourite game of the little ones at present is luring each other away by wilesA correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending to be the "bloofer lady" is supremely funnySome of our caricaturists might, he says, take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by comparing the reality and the pictureIt is only in accordance with general principles of human nature that the "bloofer lady" should be the popular role at these al fresco performancesOur correspondent naively says that even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly attractive as 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 missed at night, have been slightly torn or wounded in the throatThe wounds seem such as might be made by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much importance individually, would tend to show that whatever animal inflicts them has a system or method of its ownThe police of the division have been instructed 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 SPECIAL THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR ANOTHER CHILD INJURED THE "BLOOFER LADY" We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at the Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is perhaps, less frequented than the other partsIt has the same tiny wound in the throat as has been noticed in other casesIt was terribly weak, and looked quite emaciatedIt too, when partially restored, had the common story to tell of being lured away by the "bloofer lady" CHAPTER 14 MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL 23 September-Jonathan is better after a bad shop night