"We are, dear Sirs, "Faithfully yours, "SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON &
SON"
LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, TO MESSRS.
BILLINGTON & SON, WHITBY.
21 August.
"Dear Sirs,—
"We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return cheque
of 1 pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in receipted
account herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with
instructions, and keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
"We are, dear Sirs, "Yours respectfully, "Pro CARTER, PATERSON
& CO."
MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.
18 August.—I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in
the churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept
well all night, and did not disturb me once.
The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks, though she is
still sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I
could understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full
of life and cheerfulness. All the morbid reticence seems to have
passed from her, and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any
reminding, of that night, and that it was here, on this very seat,
I found her asleep.
As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on
the stone slab and said,
"My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor
old Mr. Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want
to wake up Geordie."
As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she
had dreamed at all that night.
Before she answered, that sweet, puckered look came into her
forehead, which Arthur, I call him Arthur from her habit, says he
loves, and indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in
a half-dreaming kind of way, as if trying to recall it to
herself.
"I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only
wanted to be here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid
of something, I don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was
asleep, passing through the streets and over the bridge. A fish
leaped as I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard aleaped as I went by, and I leaned over to look at it, and I heard a
lot of dogs howling. The whole town seemed as if it must be full of
dogs all howling at once, as I went up the steps. Then I had a
vague memory of something long and dark with red eyes, just as we
saw in the sunset, and something very sweet and very bitter all
around me at once. And then I seemed sinking into deep green water,
and there was a singing in my ears, as I have heard there is to
drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away from me. My
soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air. I seem
to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me, and
then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an
earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw
you do it before I felt you."
Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I
listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it, and thought
it better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to
another subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got
home the fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were
really more rosy. Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all
spent a very happy evening together.
19 August.—Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of
Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not
write. I am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know.
Mr. Hawkins sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly.
I am to leave in the morning and go over to Jonathan, and to help
to nurse him if necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says
it would not be a bad thing if we were to be married out there. I
have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet
against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be
near my heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is all mapped out,
and my luggage ready. I am only taking one change of dress. Lucy
will bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for it, forwill bring my trunk to London and keep it till I send for it, for
it may be that … I must write no more. I must keep it to say
to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched
must comfort me till we meet.
LETTER, SISTER AGATHA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JOSEPH AND STE. MARY
BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY
12 August,
"Dear Madam.
"I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is himself not
strong enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and
St. Joseph and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six
weeks, suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes me to convey
his love, and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter
Hawkins, Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is
sorry for his delay, and that all of his work is completed. He will
require some few weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but
will then return. He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient
money with him, and that he would like to pay for his staying here,
so that others who need shall not be wanting for belp.
Believe me,
Yours, with sympathy
and all blessings. Sister Agatha"
"P. S.—My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know
something more. He has told me all about you, and that you are
shortly to be his wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some
fearful shock, so says our doctor, and in his delirium his ravings
have been dreadful, of wolves and poison and blood, of ghosts and
demons, and I fear to say of what. Be careful of him always that
there may be nothing to excite him of this kind for a long time to
come. The traces of such an illness as his do not lightly die away.
We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing of his
friends, and there was nothing on him, nothing that anyone could
understand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and the guard
was told by the station master there that he rushed into the
station shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent
demeanor that he was English, they gave him a ticket for the