Jonathan Harker’s Journal

           October,afternoon. ForsometimeafterourmeetingthismorningIcouldnotthink. Thenewphasesofthingsleavemymindinastateofwonderwhichallowsnoroomforactivethought. Mina’sdeterminationnottotakeanypartinthediscussionsetmethinking. AndasIcouldnotarguethematterwithher,Icouldonlyguess. Iamasfaraseverfromasolutionnow. Thewaytheothersreceivedit,toopuzzledme. Thelasttimewetalkedofthesubjectweagreedthattherewastobenomoreconcealmentofanythingamongstus. Minaissleepingnow,calmlyandsweetlylikealittlechild. Herlipsarecurvedandherfacebeamswithhappiness. ThankGod,therearesuchmomentsstillforher. 

           Later. Howstrangeitallis. IsatwatchingMina’shappysleep,andIcameasneartobeinghappymyselfasIsupposeIshalleverbe. Astheeveningdrewon,andtheearthtookitsshadowsfromthesunsinkinglower,thesilenceoftheroomgrewmoreandmoresolemntome. 

           AllatonceMinaopenedhereyes,andlookingatmetenderlysaid, "Jonathan,Iwantyoutopromisemesomethingonyourwordofhonour. Apromisemadetome,butmadeholilyinGod’shearing,andnottobebrokenthoughIshouldgodownonmykneesandimploreyouwithbittertears. Quick,youmustmakeittomeatonce." 

           "Mina,"Isaid,"apromiselikethat,Icannotmakeatonce. Imayhavenorighttomakeit." 

           "But,dearone,"shesaid,withsuchspiritualintensitythathereyeswerelikepolestars,"itisIwhowishit.Anditisnotformyself. 

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