In fear I turned to my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with gladness leapt like flame.  For oh! the terror in her sweet eyes, the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my heart that was all of hope.  God be thanked she was not, yet, of them.  I seized some of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some of the Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire.  They drew back before me, and laughed their low horrid laugh.  I fed the fire, and feared them not.  For I knew that we were safe within the ring, which she could not leave no more than they could enter.  The horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on the ground.  The snow fell on them softly, and they grew whiter.  I knew that there was for the poor beasts no more of terror.

And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall through the snow gloom.  I was desolate and afraid, and full of woe and terror.  But when that beautiful sun began to climb the horizon life was to me again.  At the first coming of the dawn the horrid figures melted in the whirling mist and snow.  The wreaths of transparent gloom moved away towards the castle, and were lost.

Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina, intending to hypnotize her.  But she lay in a deep and sudden sleep, from which I could not wake her.  I tried to hypnotize through her sleep, but she made no response, none at all, and the day broke.  I fear yet to stir.  I have made my fire and have seen the horses, they are all dead.  Today I have much to do here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up high.  For there may be places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow and mist obscure it, will be to me a safety.

I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will do my terrible work.  Madam Mina still sleeps, and God be thanked!  She is calm in her sleep . . .

JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL

4 November, evening.—­The accident to the launch has been a terrible thing for us.  Only for it we should have overtaken the boat long ago, and by now my dear Mina would have been free.  I fear to think of her, off on the wolds near that horrid place.  We have got horses, and we follow on the track.  I note this whilst Godalming is getting ready.  We have our arms.  The Szgany must look out if they mean to fight.  Oh, if only Morris and Seward were with us.  We must only hope!  If I write no more Goodby Mina!  God bless and keep you.

DR. SEWARD’S DIARY

5 November.—­With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before us dashing away from the river with their leiter wagon.  They surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset.  The snow is falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in the air.  It may be our own feelings, but the depression is strange.  Far off I hear the howling of wolves.  The snow brings them down from the mountains, and there are dangers to all of us, and from all sides.  The horses are nearly ready, and we are soon off.  We ride to death of some one.  God alone knows who, or where, or what, or when, or how it may be . . .