Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second watch. Now
that my work is done I, too, shall go to bed.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
3-4 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 . . .
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