must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once
if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon,
Madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how
your husband suffer. So I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, least it may harm.
Again your pardon, and forgive me.
25 September.--Come today by quarter past ten train if you can catch it. Can see you
any time you call.
25 September.--I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws near for the visit
of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that it will throw some light upon Jonathan's
sad experience, and as he attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all
about her. That is the reason of his coming. It is concerning Lucy and her sleep-walking,
and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the real truth now! How silly I am. That
awful journal gets hold of my imagination and tinges everything with something of its
own color. Of course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and that
awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten in my own affairs
how ill she was afterwards. She must have told him of her sleep-walking adventure on
the cliff, and that I knew all about it, and now he wants me to tell him what I know, so
that he may understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything of it to Mrs. Westenra. I
should never forgive myself if any act of mine, were it even a negative one, brought
harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope too, Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me. I have had so
much trouble and anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just at present.
I suppose a cry does us all good at times, clears the air as other rain does. Perhaps it
was reading the journal yesterday that upset me, and then Jonathan went away this
morning to stay away from me a whole day and night, the first time we have been
parted since our marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and that
nothing will occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the doctor will be here soon now. I
shall say nothing of Jonathan's journal unless he asks me. I am so glad I have
typewritten out my own journal, so that, in case he asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him.
It will save much questioning. Later.--He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange
meeting, and how it all makes my head whirl round. I feel like one in a dream. Can it be
all possible, or even a part of it? If I had not read Jonathan's journal first, I should never
have accepted even a possibility. Poor, poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have
suffered. Please the good God, all this may not upset him again. I shall try to save him
from it. But it may be even a consolation and a help to him, terrible though it be and
awful in its consequences, to know for certain that his eyes and ears and brain did not
deceive him, and that it is all true. It may be that it is the doubt which haunts him, that
when the doubt is removed, no matter which, waking or dreaming, may prove the truth,
he will be more satisfied and better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a