Jonathan
Harker's Journal3-4 October, close to midnight I thought yesterday
would never end. There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort of blind
belief that to wake would be to find things changed, and that any change must
now be for the better. Before we parted, we discussed what our next step was to
be, but we could arrive at no result. All we knew was that one earth box remained,
and that the Count alone knew where it was. If he chooses to lie hidden, he may
baffle us for years. And in the meantime, the thought is too horrible, I dare
not think of it even now. This I know, that if ever there was a woman who was
all perfection, that one is my poor wronged darling. I loved her a thousand times
more for her sweet pity of last night, a pity that made my own hate of the monster
seem despicable. Surely God will not permit the world to be the poorer by the
loss of such a creature. This is hope to me. We are all drifting reefwards now,
and faith is our only anchor. Thank God! Mina is sleeping, and sleeping without
dreams. I fear what her dreams might be like, with such terrible memories to ground
them in. She has not been so calm, within my seeing, since the sunset. Then, for
a while, there came over her face a repose which was like spring after the blasts
of March. I thought at the time that it was the softness of the red sunset on
her face, but somehow now I think it has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy myself,
though I am weary . . . weary to death. However, I must try to sleep. For there
is tomorrow to think of, and there is no rest for me until . . . |
