The door is shut, the chains rattle. There is
a grinding of the key in the lock. I can hear
the key withdrawn, then another door opens and shuts.
I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.
Hark! In the courtyard and down the rocky way
the roll of heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and
the chorus of the Szgany as they pass into the distance.
I am alone in the castle with those horrible women.
Faugh! Mina is a woman, and there is nought
in common. They are devils of the Pit!
I shall not remain alone with them. I shall
try to scale the castle wall farther than I have yet
attempted. I shall take some of the gold with
me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from
this dreadful place.
And then away for home! Away to the quickest
and nearest train! Away from the cursed spot,
from this cursed land, where the devil and his children
still walk with earthly feet!
At least God’s mercy is better than that of
those monsters, and the precipice is steep and high.
At its foot a man may sleep, as a man. Goodbye,
all. Mina!
9 May.
My dearest Lucy,
Forgive my long delay in writing, but I have been
simply overwhelmed with work. The life of an
assistant schoolmistress is sometimes trying.
I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where
we can talk together freely and build our castles
in the air. I have been working very hard lately,
because I want to keep up with Jonathan’s studies,
and I have been practicing shorthand very assiduously.
When we are married I shall be able to be useful to
Jonathan, and if I can stenograph well enough I can
take down what he wants to say in this way and write
it out for him on the typewriter, at which also I
am practicing very hard.
He and I sometimes write letters in shorthand, and
he is keeping a stenographic journal of his travels
abroad. When I am with you I shall keep a diary
in the same way. I don’t mean one of those
two-pages-to-the-week-with-Sunday-squeezed-in-a-corner
diaries, but a sort of journal which I can write in
whenever I feel inclined.
I do not suppose there will be much of interest to
other people, but it is not intended for them.
I may show it to Jonathan some day if there is in
it anything worth sharing, but it is really an exercise
book. I shall try to do what I see lady journalists
do, interviewing and writing descriptions and trying
to remember conversations. I am told that, with
a little practice, one can remember all that goes
on or that one hears said during a day.
However, we shall see. I will tell you of my
little plans when we meet. I have just had a
few hurried lines from Jonathan from Transylvania.
He is well, and will be returning in about a week.
I am longing to hear all his news. It must
be nice to see strange countries. I wonder if
we, I mean Jonathan and I, shall ever see them together.
There is the ten o’clock bell ringing.
Goodbye.
