My nights are restless. Oppressed with a nameless weight, or tormented by dread, I awake with a start, breathless and affrighted, to experience the momentary relief of danger past. But the next instant I am overwhelmed by the consciousness of my surroundings, and plunged into rage and despair, powerless, hopeless.
Thus day succeeds night, and night succeeds day, in the ceaseless struggle of hope and discouragement, of life and death, amid the externally placid tenor of my Pennsylvania nightmare.
CHAPTER VI
MY FIRST LETTER
I
Direct to Box A 7,
Allegheny City, Pa.,
October 19th, 1892.
Dear Sister:[19]
It is just a month, a month to-day, since my coming here. I keep wondering, can such a world of misery and torture be compressed into one short month?... How I have longed for this opportunity! You will understand: a month's stay is required before we are permitted to write. But many, many long letters I have written to you—in my mind, dear Sonya. Where shall I begin now? My space is very limited, and I have so much to say to you and to the Twin.—I received your letters. You need not wait till you hear from me: keep on writing. I am allowed to receive all mail sent, "of moral contents," in the phraseology of the rules. And I shall write whenever I may.