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 time run on without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came running 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
