him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a
bad thing if we were to be married out there.
I have cried over the good Sister’s letter
till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it
lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be near my
heart, for he is in my heart. My journey is
all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only
taking one change of dress. Lucy will bring my
trunk to London and keep it till I send for it, for
it may be that . . . I must write no more.
I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband.
The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort
me till we meet.
LETTER, SISTER AGATHA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JOSEPH AND
STE. MARY BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY
12 August,
“Dear Madam.
“I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who
is himself not strong enough to write, though progressing
well, thanks to God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary.
He has been under our care for nearly six weeks,
suffering from a violent brain fever. He wishes
me to convey his love, and to say that by this post
I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins, Exeter, to say,
with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his
delay, and that all of his work is completed.
He will require some few weeks’ rest in our
sanatorium in the hills, but will then return.
He wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money
with him, and that he would like to pay for his staying
here, so that others who need shall not be wanting
for help.
“Believe me,
“Yours, with sympathy
and all blessings.
Sister Agatha
“P.S.—My patient being asleep, I
open this to let you know something more. He
has told me all about you, and that you are shortly
to be his wife. All blessings to you both!
He has had some fearful shock, so says our doctor,
and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful,
of wolves and poison and blood, of ghosts and demons,
and I fear to say of what. Be careful of him
always that there may be nothing to excite him of
this kind for a long time to come. The traces
of such an illness as his do not lightly die away.
We should have written long ago, but we knew nothing
of his friends, and there was nothing on him, nothing
that anyone could understand. He came in the
train from Klausenburg, and the guard was told by the
station master there that he rushed into the station
shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from
his violent demeanour that he was English, they gave
him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither
that the train reached.
“Be assured that he is well cared for.
He has won all hearts by his sweetness and gentleness.
He is truly getting on well, and I have no doubt
will in a few weeks be all himself. But be careful
of him for safety’s sake. There are, I
pray God and St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, many,
many, happy years for you both.”
