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Mina Harker’s Journal

           IkeptthinkingovereverythingthathasbeeneversinceJonathancametoseemeinLondon,anditallseemslikeahorribletragedy,withfatepressingonrelentlesslytosomedestinedend. Everythingthatonedoesseems,nomatterhowrightitmebe,tobringontheverythingwhichismosttobedeplored. IfIhadn’tgonetoWhitby,perhapspoordearLucywouldbewithusnow. Shehadn’ttakentovisitingthechurchyardtillIcame,andifshehadn’tcomethereinthedaytimewithmeshewouldn’thavewalkedinhersleep. Andifshehadn’tgonethereatnightandasleep,thatmonstercouldn’thavedestroyedherashedid. Oh,whydidIevergotoWhitby? Therenow,cryingagain! Iwonderwhathascomeovermetoday. ImusthideitfromJonathan,forifheknewthatIhadbeencryingtwiceinonemorning... I,whonevercriedonmyownaccount,andwhomhehasnevercausedtoshedatear,thedearfellowwouldfrethisheartout. Ishallputaboldfaceon,andifIdofeelweepy,heshallneverseeit. Isupposeitisjustoneofthelessonsthatwepoorwomenhavetolearn... 

           Ican’tquiterememberhowIfellasleeplastnight. Irememberhearingthesuddenbarkingofthedogsandalotofqueersounds,likeprayingonaverytumultuousscale,fromMr.Renfield’sroom,whichissomewhereunderthis. Andthentherewassilenceovereverything,silencesoprofoundthatitstartledme,andIgotupandlookedoutofthewindow. Allwasdarkandsilent,theblackshadowsthrownbythemoonlightseemingfullofasilentmysteryoftheirown. 

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