?I?m not nervous, but these things sink into my heart ?What do you mean, Eva?? ?I can?t tell you, papa, I think a great many thoughtsPerhaps some day I shall tell you ?Well, think away, dear,?only don?t cry and worry your papa,? said StClare, ?Look here,?see what a beautiful peach I have got for you Eva took it and smiled, though there was still a nervous twiching about the corners of her mouth ?Come, look at the gold-fish,? said StClare, taking her hand and stepping on to the verandahA few moments, and merry laughs were heard through the silken curtains, as Eva and StClare were pelting each other with roses, and chasing each other among the alleys of the court There is danger that our humble friend Tom be neglected amid the adventures of the higher born; but, if our readers will accompany us up to a little loft over the stable, they may, perhaps, learn a little of his affairsIt was a decent room, containing a bed, a chair, and a small, rough stand, where lay Tom?s Bible and hymn-book; and where he sits, at present, with his slate before him, intent on something that seems to cost him a great deal of anxious thought The fact was, that Tom?s home-yearnings had become so strong that he had begged a sheet of writing-paper of Eva, and, mustering up all his small stock of literary attainment acquired by Mas?r George?s instructions, he conceived the bold idea of writing a letter; and he was busy now, on his slate, getting out his first draftTom was in a good deal of trouble, for the forms of some of the letters he had forgotten entirely; and of what he did remember, he did not know exactly which to useAnd while he was working, and breathing very hard, in his earnestness, Eva alighted, like a bird, on the round of his chair behind him, and peeped over his shoulder ?O, Uncle Tom! what funny things you are making, there!? ?I?m trying to write to my poor old woman, Miss Eva, and my little chil?en,? said Tom, drawing the back of his hand over his eyes; ?but, some how, I?m feard I shan?t make it out ?I wish I could help you, Tom! I?ve learnt to write some year I could make all the letters, but I?m afraid I?ve forgotten So Eva put her golden head close to his, and the two commenced a grave and anxious discussion, each one equally earnest, and about equally ignorant; and, with a deal of consulting and advising over every word, the composition began, as they both felt very sanguine, to look quite like writing ?Yes, Uncle Tom, it really begins to look beautiful,? said Eva, gazing delightedly on it?How pleased your wife?ll be, and the poor little children! O, it?s a shame you ever had to go away from them! I mean to ask papa to let you go back, some time ?Missis said that she would send down money for me, as soon as they could get it together,? said Tom?I?m ?spectin, she willYoung Mas?r George, he said he?d come for me; and he gave me this yer dollar as a sign;? and Tom drew from under his clothes the precious dollar ?O, he?ll certainly come, then!? said Eva?I?m so glad!? ?And I wanted to send a letter, you know, to let ?em know whar I was, and tell poor Chloe that I was well off,?cause she felt so drefful, poor soul!? ?I say Tom!? said StClare?s voice, coming in the door at this moment Tom and Eva both started ?What?s here?? said StClare, coming up and looking at the slate ?O, it?s Tom?s letterI?m helping him to write it,? said Eva; ?isn?t it nice?? ?I wouldn?t discourage either of you,? said StClare, ?but I rather think, Tom, you?d better get me to write your letter for youI?ll do it, when I come home from my ride ?It?s very important he should write,? said Eva, ?because his mistress is going to send down money to redeem him, you know, papa; he told me they told him soClare thought, in his heart, that this was probably only one of those things which good-natured owners say to their servants, to alleviate their horror of being sold, without any intention of fulfilling the expectation thus excitedBut he did not make any audible comment upon it,?only ordered Tom to get the horses out for a ride Tom?s letter was written in due form for him that evening, and safely lodged in the post-office Miss Ophelia still persevered in her labors in the housekeeping lineIt was universally agreed, among all the household, from Dinah down to the youngest urchin, that Miss Ophelia was decidedly ?curis,??a term by which a southern servant implies that his or her betters don?t exactly suit shop them

Men and women are so different in manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face grew grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a timeHis reply was in a way characteristic of him, for it was logical and forceful and mysteriousHe said, "Ah, you don't comprehend, friend JohnDo not think that I am not sad, though I laughSee, I have cried even when the laugh did choke meBut no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just the sameKeep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not true laughterNo! He is a king, and he come when and how he likeHe ask no person, he choose no time of suitability' Behold, in example I grieve my heart out for that so sweet young girlI give my blood for her, though I am old and wornI give my time, my skill, my sleepI let my other sufferers want that she may have allAnd yet I can laugh at her very grave, laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her coffin and say 'Thud, thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood from my cheekMy heart bleed for that poor boy, that dear boy, so of the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his hair and eyes the same "There, you know now why I love him soAnd yet when he say things that touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to him as to no other man, not even you, friend John, for we are more level in experiences than father and son, yet even at such a moment King Laugh he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear, 'Here I am! Here I am!' till the blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that he carry with him to my cheekOh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troublesAnd yet when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he playBleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall, all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of himAnd 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 shop another

My watch was still unwound, and I am rigorously accustomed to wind it the last thing before going to bed, and many such detailsBut these things are no proof, for they may have been evidences that my mind was not as usual, and, for some cause or another, I had certainly been much upsetI must watch for proofOf one thing I am gladIf it was that the Count carried me here and undressed me, he must have been hurried in his task, for my pockets are intactI am sure this diary would have been a mystery to him which he would not have brookedHe would have taken or destroyed itAs I look round this room, although it has been to me so full of fear, it is now a sort of sanctuary, for nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were, who are, waiting to suck my blood-I have been down to look at that room again in daylight, for I must know the truthWhen I got to the doorway at the top of the stairs I found it closedIt had been so forcibly driven against the jamb that part of the woodwork was splinteredI could see that the bolt of the lock had not been shot, but the door is fastened from the insideI fear it was no dream, and must act on this surmise-I am surely in the toilsLast night the Count asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of the letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at BistritzI would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his powerAnd to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his angerHe knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to himMy only chance is to prolong my opportunitiesSomething may occur which will give me a chance to escapeI saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from himHe explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friendsAnd he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicionI therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the letters He calculated a minute, and then said, "The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June 29 I know now the span of my lifeGod help me! 28 May-There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able to send word homeA band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are encamped in the courtyardI have notes of them in my bookThey are peculiar to this part of the world, though allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world overThere are thousands of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all lawThey attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or boyar, and call themselves by his nameThey are fearless and without religion, save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany tongue I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have them postedI have already spoken to them through my window to begin acquaintanceshipThey took their hats off and made obeisance and many signs, which however, I could not understand any more than I could their spoken language? I have written the lettersMina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask MrHawkins to communicate with herTo her I have explained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only shop surmise

When I have returned you will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter on our inquisitionKeep them safe, for there is in them much of treasureYou will need all your faith, even you who have had such an experience as that of todayWhat 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 UnDead who walk the earthRead 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 importantYou have kept a diary of all these so strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all these together when we meet He then made ready for his departure and shortly drove off to Liverpool StreetI 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, "DrSeward, is it not?" "And you are MrsHarker!" 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 ownI 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 a bedroom prepared at once for Mrs In due time we arrivedShe knew, of course, that the place was a lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a shudder when we entered She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my study, as she had much to saySo here I am finishing my entry in my phonograph diary whilst I await herAs yet I have not had the chance of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me, though they lie open before meI must get her interested in something, so that I may have an opportunity of reading themShe does not know how precious time is, or what a task we have in handI must be careful not to frighten herHere she is! MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL 29 September-After I had tidied myself, I went down to DrAt the door I paused a moment, for I thought I heard him talking with some oneAs, 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 himHe was quite alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from the description to be a phonographI 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 someone with you "Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my diary "Your diary?" I asked him in surprise "Yes," he answered As he spoke he laid his hand on the phonographI 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 speakingThen 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 endLet me hear how she died, for all that I know of her, I shall be very gratefulShe was very, very dear to shop me

?Who did you belong to?? said Emmeline ?Well, my Mas?r was MrEllis,?lived on Levee-streetP?raps you?ve seen the house ?Was he good to you?? said Emmeline ?Mostly, till he tuk sickHe?s lain sick, off and on, more than six months, and been orful oneasy?Pears like he warnt willin? to have nobody rest, day or night; and got so curous, there couldn?t nobody suit him?Pears like he just grew crosser, every day; kep me up nights till I got farly beat out, and couldn?t keep awake no longer; and cause I got to sleep, one night, Lors, he talk so orful to me, and he tell me he?d sell me to just the hardest master he could find; and he?d promised me my freedom, too, when he died ?Had you any friends?? said Emmeline ?Yes, my husband,?he?s a blacksmithMas?r gen?ly hired him outThey took me off so quick, I didn?t even have time to see him; and I?s got four childrenO, dear me!? said the woman, covering her face with her hands It is a natural impulse, in every one, when they hear a tale of distress, to think of something to say by way of consolationEmmeline wanted to say something, but she could not think of anything to sayWhat was there to be said? As by a common consent, they both avoided, with fear and dread, all mention of the horrible man who was now their master True, there is religious trust for even the darkest hourThe mulatto woman was a member of the Methodist church, and had an unenlightened but very sincere spirit of pietyEmmeline had been educated much more intelligently,?taught to read and write, and diligently instructed in the Bible, by the care of a faithful and pious mistress; yet, would it not try the faith of the firmest Christian, to find themselves abandoned, apparently, of God, in the grasp of ruthless violence? How much more must it shake the faith of Christ?s poor little ones, weak in knowledge and tender in years! The boat moved on,?freighted with its weight of sorrow,?up the red, muddy, turbid current, through the abrupt tortuous windings of the Red river; and sad eyes gazed wearily on the steep red-clay banks, as they glided by in dreary samenessAt last the boat stopped at a small town, and Legree, with his party, disembarked Chapter 32 Dark Places ?The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations Of cruelty1 Trailing wearily behind a rude wagon, and over a ruder road, Tom and his associates faced onward In the wagon was seated Simon Legree and the two women, still fettered together, were stowed away with some baggage in the back part of it, and the whole company were seeking Legree?s plantation, which lay a good distance off It was a wild, forsaken road, now winding through dreary pine barrens, where the wind whispered mournfully, and now over log causeways, through long cypress swamps, the doleful trees rising out of the slimy, spongy ground, hung with long wreaths of funeral black moss, while ever and anon the loathsome form of the mocassin snake might be seen sliding among broken stumps and shattered branches that lay here and there, rotting in the water It is disconsolate enough, this riding, to the stranger, who, with well-filled pocket and well-appointed horse, threads the lonely way on some errand of business; but wilder, drearier, to the man enthralled, whom every weary step bears further from all that man loves and prays for So one should have thought, that witnessed the sunken and dejected expression on those dark faces; the wistful, patient weariness with which those sad eyes rested on object after object that passed them in their sad journey Simon rode on, however, apparently well pleased, occasionally pulling away at a flask of spirit, which he kept in his pocket ?I say, you!? he said, as he turned back and caught a glance at the dispirited faces behind him?Strike up a song, boys,?come!? The men looked at each other, and the ?come? was repeated, with a smart crack of the whip which the driver carried in his handsTom began a Methodist hymn ?Jerusalem, my happy home, Name ever dear to me! When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall??2 ?Shut up, you black cuss!? roared Legree; ?did ye think I wanted any o? yer infernal old Methodism? I say, tune up, now, something real rowdy,?quick!? One of the other men struck up one of those unmeaning songs, common among the slaves ?Mas?r see?d me cotch a coon, High boys, high! He laughed to split,?d?ye see the moon, Ho! ho! ho! boys, ho! Ho! yo! hi?e! oh!? The singer appeared to make up the song to his own pleasure, generally hitting on rhyme, without much attempt at reason; and the party took up the chorus, at intervals, ?Ho! ho! ho! boys, ho! High?e?oh! high?e?oh!? It was sung very boisterouly, and with a forced attempt at merriment; but no wail of despair, no words of impassioned prayer, could have had such a depth of woe in them as the wild notes of the chorusAs if the poor, dumb heart, threatened,?prisoned,?took refuge in that inarticulate sanctuary of music, and found there a language in which to breathe its prayer to God! There was a prayer in it, which Simon could not hearHe only heard the boys singing noisily, and was well pleased; he was making them ?keep up their spirits ?Well, my little dear,? said he, turning to Emmeline, and laying his hand on her shoulder, ?we?re almost home!? When Legree scolded and stormed, Emmeline was terrified; but when he laid his hand on her, and spoke as he now did, she felt as if she had rather he would strike herThe expression of his eyes made her soul sick, and her flesh creepInvoluntarily she clung closer to the mulatto woman by her side, as if she were her mother ?You didn?t ever wear ear-rings,? he said, taking hold of her small ear with his coarse fingers ?No, Mas?r!? said Emmeline, trembling and looking shop down