Lucy Westenra's Diary
Another bad night. Mother did not
seem to take to my proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she
fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when
the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling asleep.
There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but I did not mind it,
and as I remember no more, I suppose I must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams.
I wish I could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly
pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I
don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes,
or else I know he will be miserable to see me so.