Lucy Westenra’s Diary

           Hillingham,24August. ImustimitateMina,andkeepwritingthingsdown. Thenwecanhavelongtalkswhenwedomeet. Iwonderwhenitwillbe. Iwishshewerewithmeagain,forIfeelsounhappy. LastnightIseemedtobedreamingagainjustasIwasatWhitby. Perhapsitisthechangeofair,orgettinghomeagain. Itisalldarkandhorridtome,forIcanremembernothing. ButIamfullofvaguefear,andIfeelsoweakandwornout. WhenArthurcametolunchhelookedquitegrievedwhenhesawme,andIhadn’tthespirittotrytobecheerful. IwonderifIcouldsleepinmother’sroomtonight. Ishallmakeanexcusetotry. 

           25August. Anotherbadnight. Motherdidnotseemtotaketomyproposal. Sheseemsnottoowellherself,anddoubtlessshefearstoworryme. Itriedtokeepawake,andsucceededforawhile,butwhentheclockstrucktwelveitwakedmefromadoze,soImusthavebeenfallingasleep. Therewasasortofscratchingorflappingatthewindow,butIdidnotmindit,andasIremembernomore,IsupposeImusthavefallenasleep. Morebaddreams.IwishIcouldrememberthem. ThismorningIamhorriblyweak. Myfaceisghastlypale,andmythroatpainsme. Itmustbesomethingwrongwithmylungs,forIdon’tseemtobegettingairenough. IshalltrytocheerupwhenArthurcomes,orelseIknowhewillbemiserabletoseemeso. 

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