Tuesday, November 18, 1969. 

It's now been over a month since I returned from my strange and terrifying journey to another time. I've waited here every night at the Old House, hoping that Barnabas would somehow give me a sign, but there's been nothing. When I first returned, I frequently heard voices from the past, faint voices that frightened me, for I didn't know whether they inhabited the same rooms as I, or merely the dark and tormented corridors of my mind. For I have not heard the voices for several days, and I am beginning to fear that Barnabas Collins is trapped in the past and lost to me forever. I must not -- I will not give up hope, for there seems so little left now. Tonight when I gave up my nightly vigil at the Old House to return to Collinwood, I experienced a strange apprehension as I walked through the woods. Though I've walked that lonely path many times over the years, I got the disturbing feeling that I was being watched. I stopped along the way several times, thinking that I heard footsteps in the dry leaves behind me. I'm ashamed to admit that it sent a chill through me and sent me hurrying on my way like a nervous child scurrying from the shadows.  I regained control of my nerve by the time I arrived at Collinwood where I found Carolyn in the drawing room wrapping a gift that she'd bought for her mother at a new antique shop in town. But in contrast to the cheerful wrapping, Carolyn herself was in a depressed mood that she was unable to explain. It's not like Carolyn to be so brooding without cause. By nature she has an upbeat personality, but she confided to me that she'd had a strange feeling all day that something frightening is going to happen. Then she visibly made the effort to shake off her mood and invited me to go with her to the new antique shop tomorrow. Of course I said I couldn't, I must be at the Old House if Barnabas should come back. Eliot theorizes that Barnabas should return to the same place from which he disappeared in the cellar -- and though Eliot has given up believing Barnabas will reappear after this much lapsed time, I have not given up hope. I'm convinced he will return, and I want to be near him when he does. I miss him so. Dear Carolyn, in her gentle way she turned the tables on the psychiatrist and convinced me that my constant presence at the Old House will not bring back Barnabas. If only my love for him was strong enough to pull him back to the present time. What I wouldn't give for that ability, but I fear he would have to accept it willingly, and that is not going to happen. I had to turn away from Carolyn to keep her from seeing how her words brought stinging tears to my eyes when she made the observation that I am very fond of Barnabas. Her compassionate reassurance almost unnerved my resolve to remain strong.  Thank goodness she left the room to make the tea she offered to calm me, as I needed a minute alone to catch my breath and regain my composure, yet when I did, it was only to be unsettled by the sound of familiar voices from the past. The voices of Magda the Gypsy and the Cockney accent of Charity Trask became as clear as if they were standing in the drawing room with me, and they were talking about Barnabas -- Barnabas and Lady Kitty Hampshire, the woman who Barnabas was certain was the reincarnation of Josette. Charity said that Barnabas and Lady Hampshire disappeared together after they were seen by Edward going into the Old House, and they haven't been seen since. Dear God, I then realized why Barnabas hadn't returned to this time -- he must be dead. I was sure of it, he must be dead. I lost the tenuous control of my emotions and nearly became hysterical trying to make contact with the voices, and as I cried out Charity's name into thin air, Carolyn rushed to my side with concern. She administered the tea she'd made like a soothing tonic, and I was able to gather my wits and logically think through what I had heard. Then it suddenly became clear to me. I was wrong to think that his disappearance meant he was dead, it had to mean he was on his way back. I left Carolyn and rushed back to the Old House only to find a strange man moving around inside the drawing room. I waited until he started to leave and confronted him outside the door by shining my flashlight in his face and demanding to know who he was. Though the man was well spoken and well dressed, and he had a non-threatening demeanor to be a common burglar, he did not convince me that his intentions were innocent. He said that he was meeting someone at the house, which I knew to be a lie, and when I threatened to call the police, he became nervous and tried to placate me.  Just then, Carolyn arrived. She had been worried when I left the house so suddenly and followed me to be certain I was all right. As I turned to her and we talked for those few seconds, the man simply disappeared without either of us seeing him leave. Perhaps we'll never see him again, but I had to make sure he'd left Barnabas' house undisturbed, so Carolyn and I went inside to find out what he was after. We searched the room, but all I found was the lingering scent of smoking candle wax to hint of the stranger's uninvited presence. Barnabas was not there. The house was as I'd left it earlier. With the front door bolted, I practically collapsed in the chair by the fireplace and told an astonished Carolyn that I knew Barnabas had not returned. Perhaps it was exhaustion and the fact Barnabas was not there that compelled me to confide to Carolyn that the story Professor Stokes and I told the family about Barnabas leaving was untrue. I revealed to her how Barnabas vanished into thin air before our eyes while in the I-Ching trance -- vanished into the past. I was certain he could not have returned yet, because I had locked the cellar door, and I am sure he would be loudly demanding his freedom if he were here. But when Carolyn suggested he could be down there in an unconscious state, I nearly leapt up from the chair with hope in my heart to check the cellar, only to have my hopes come crashing down yet again when I found everything undisturbed. The chair where he had been sitting and the I-Ching wands on the table were exactly as when he vanished. Is this sad little tableau the end? Did the voices of Magda and Charity tell me all that I shall ever know of what became of Barnabas? DID he run away with Lady Kitty, believing her to be Josette? Too many questions leave me with a lonely feeling of loss. How long can I continue believing he will return to this time -- and to me.

I don't know how long I was in the cellar when I heard a terrified scream from Carolyn that the strange man was back and looking in through the window. Poor Carolyn, though I could see no sign of the man when I looked out the window, she was so upset that when I said I was staying the night at the Old House, she quickly decided to stay with me, rather than walk back to Collinwood with that man in the woods. She is spending the night in Josette's room, but I can't sleep. I sit in the chair opposite his, writing in this journal and staring into the fire thinking of Barnabas. 

I accepted Carolyn's invitation to visit the new antique shop in Collinsport. It is run by a pleasant couple named Todd -- Phillip and Megan Todd. Though new, their shop has a surprising number of interesting American and European pieces, and while I was inspecting the mark on a very old laboratory bell jar that had an intriguing discoloration on the inside, I overheard Mr. Todd tell Carolyn that he had just acquired a painting by Charles Delaware Tate. I could hardly believe my ears, and I asked if he was sure it was a genuine Tate. It was a rather ordinary landscape, not at all in the life like style of the portraits he painted around the turn of the century, but I was overcome by a strong urge to acquire the painting, especially when Mr. Todd said that it was one of Tate's later works painted about 20 years ago. If true, that would make Tate in his 80's when he painted the canvas, and perhaps -- just perhaps -- he could conceivably still be alive. Dare I hope? Charles Tate could somehow be the answer to breaking the werewolf curse on Chris in the same way that he ended the original curse on Quentin Collins. 

I tried not to let Mr. Todd see my growing excitement for a very different reason and asked the price of the canvas, pretending to be an admirer of Tate's. I almost chuckled when Carolyn's jaw dropped as I pulled out my checkbook and paid the $300. It might be a steep price for such an obscure work, but I feel it will lead me to the answer I seek to free Chris from the curse. I mentioned to Mr. Todd that I was interested in knowing if any other Tate paintings were available, and he surprised me by saying very few Tates were in circulation, even though he had been a very prolific painter. Apparently someone had already beat me to cornering the market. How very odd.  After returning to Collinwood, I called the auction house where Mr. Todd bought the Tate and found out that someone else tried to buy this painting. I'm becoming suspicious about all this.

There have been several disturbing developments today. I invited Professor Stokes to drop by this evening, hoping he might share some of his vast knowledge of American art. I wanted to know if he could recognize the Tate painting as an original. Stokes assured me that Tate has never been an object of art forgeries, assuming I was concerned about my investment, but my interest lies in Tate himself. I must find out if he is still alive. Stokes promised to look into it before excusing himself. He said he had an appointment to see a young woman who suffered a traumatic shock that turned her hair white and left her unable to talk. That description sounded too familiar to be a coincidence. I knew without Stokes telling me her name that it was Chris Jennings' fiancé, Sabrina Stuart. Stokes has been seeing her for several weeks and says he has made some progress in helping her regain her speech. If she continues to make progress, how long will it be before she remembers seeing Chris' transformation and tells? I wasn't feeling the smile I wore as I walked Stokes to the door. 

So much was beginning to happen at once, that I'm afraid I might have felt the strain of Barnabas' absence and imagined that I heard -- no I'm positive I heard a heartbeat coming from his portrait. It was just as Willie described it when he answered Barnabas' summons to release him. I almost rushed out to the Old House to see if Barnabas had returned, when the banging of the door knocker stopped me. 

It was Chris Jennings. He had checked himself out of Wyndcliffe, even though he could transform any minute without warning and risk the safety of everyone here including himself. But Chris said he was going stir crazy in the padded cell, and he had to leave before it really drove him mad. I didn't want to raise his hopes prematurely, but I felt so badly for Chris that I told him there might be hope for him if I could find Charles Tate, who I believe can help if he is still alive. Poor Chris feels like the man between the proverbial rock and a hard place, defeated before he tries. He is afraid that it already might be too late for him now because of Sabrina Stuart. If she regains her ability to talk, she will tell everything she knows about him.

He seemed to be drawn to an intricately carved box that I knew was not in the house before, and when I asked if I could see it, he actually held it out of my reach and said I must not touch, because it came from the past and was very old. His strange behavior continued, and he even refused to discuss the things that needed to be resolved around here. He acted as if he had no interest in Chris Jennings' problem what so ever, when it was Barnabas who begged for my help for Chris in the first place 

Just then Chris burst through the door in a panic with the frightening news that Carolyn was with Sabrina Stuart, who could now talk and could tell his horrible secret. His eyes fell on Barnabas, and Chris was so relieved that he was back, the look of hope actually brightened his face. But Barnabas quickly dashed Chris' hopes that a cure was possible, by telling him he found no solution in the past, then he flatly dismissed Chris' problem like an old newspaper, saying there was nothing he could do, and he rudely bid us goodnight. 

I don't understand what has happened to Barnabas. He is not himself, he has undergone a frightening change. He has calmly condemned Chris to the curse, and he lied to me. I know he could not have used the I-Ching to come back from the past, as he'd have to come through the cellar door, an impossible feat with it locked from the outside. I can't help thinking that something inside the strange box is responsible for the change in Barnabas. 

After sending Chris home, I quietly slipped back into the house to inspect the box. The house was still, so I went directly to the drawing room and picked up the carved box with the snake medallion on the lid. There was no mistaking what I heard, I put my ear to it and heard breathing -- heavy breathing coming from inside the box. The box was locked, but the key lay on the table, and without hesitation I started to slide it into the lock, determined to clear up the mystery. That was when Barnabas' booming voice barked out my name from the doorway, causing me to jump like a guilty child. His anger was frightening as he told me to take my hands off the box and -- and he ordered me out of the house. Not that it was the first time.

I was embarrassed of course, for having been caught going behind his back, but I refused to leave with my tail between my legs. I thought surely he would understand that I did it because of my concern for him, and the striking change in his behavior, but he met my explanation with the hard, cold eyes of a stranger. He didn't care why, and with a threatening tone he demanded that I stop interfering, and give up the belief that I have the right to know everything about him. I insisted he at least owed me an explanation, but he said through gritted teeth that he owed me nothing. He even accused me of betraying him and turned his back to me. Me of all people! How could he forget how close we've been? Then he suddenly turned back and apologized, saying his mood must be brought on by the time travel, causing him to quarrel with an old friend. His gentle tone of voice and charming smile totally disarmed the awful tension between us as if it had never happened, and I was confident that my beloved friend was back with me after all.

I went to the Old House this evening to speak to Barnabas about confining Chris to Wyndcliffe, but once again he showed that disturbing indifference to Chris' problem, and told me to do whatever I wanted, but he was busy with something else. Yet he practically whirled around when I asked if he was too busy to hear about Quentin Collins. When I told him about Mr. Cory's interest in buying the Tate, and that I believe it could be Quentin, he impatiently called me irrational, and said Quentin's portrait burned in the fire at Tate's studio, then he rushed me into my coat and asked me to leave because he had things to do. He really doesn't care if Quentin is alive. Oh Barnabas, what has happened to you?