Jonathan
Harker's Journal25 June No man knows till he has suffered from the
night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun
grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway opposite
my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to me as if the dove from the
ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it had been a vaporous garment
which dissolved in the warmth. I must take action of some sort whilst the
courage of the day is upon me. Last night one of my post-dated letters went to
post, the first of that fatal series which is to blot out the very traces of my
existence from the earth. Let me not think of it. Action! It has always
been at night-time that I have been molested or threatened, or in some way in
danger or in fear. I have not yet seen the Count in the daylight. Can it be that
he sleeps when others wake, that he may be awake whilst they sleep? If I could
only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is always locked,
no way for me. Yes, there is a way, if one dares to take it. Where his body
has gone why may not another body go? I have seen him myself crawl from his window.
Why should not I imitate him, and go in by his window? The chances are desperate,
but my need is more desperate still. I shall risk it. At the worst it can only
be death, and a man's death is not a calf's, and the dreaded Hereafter may still
be open to me. God help me in my task! Goodbye, Mina, if I fail. Goodbye, my faithful
friend and second father. Goodbye, all, and last of all Mina! | 
