Carmilla

"All this," said my father, "is strictly referable to natural causes.

These poor people infect one another with their superstitions, and so

repeat in imagination the images of terror that have infested their

neighbors."

"But that very circumstance frightens one horribly," said Carmilla.

"How so?" inquired my father.

"I am so afraid of fancying I see such things; I think it would be as

bad as reality."

"We are in God's hands: nothing can happen without his permission, and

all will end well for those who love him. He is our faithful creator; He

has made us all, and will take care of us."

"Creator! Nature!" said the young lady in answer to my gentle father.

"And this disease that invades the country is natural. Nature. All

things proceed from Nature--don't they? All things in the heaven, in the

earth, and under the earth, act and live as Nature ordains? I

think so."

"The doctor said he would come here today," said my father, after a

silence. "I want to know what he thinks about it, and what he thinks we

had better do."

"Doctors never did me any good," said Carmilla.

"Then you have been ill?" I asked.

"More ill than ever you were," she answered.

"Long ago?"

"Yes, a long time. I suffered from this very illness; but I forget all

but my pain and weakness, and they were not so bad as are suffered in

other diseases."

"You were very young then?"

"I dare say, let us talk no more of it. You would not wound a friend?"

She looked languidly in my eyes, and passed her arm round my waist

lovingly, and led me out of the room. My father was busy over some

papers near the window.

"Why does your papa like to frighten us?" said the pretty girl with a

sigh and a little shudder.

"He doesn't, dear Carmilla, it is the very furthest thing from his

mind."

"Are you afraid, dearest?"

"I should be very much if I fancied there was any real danger of my

being attacked as those poor people were."

"You are afraid to die?"

"Yes, every one is."

"But to die as lovers may--to die together, so that they may live

together.

"Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally

butterflies when the summer comes; but in the meantime there are grubs

and larvae, don't you see--each with their peculiar propensities,

necessities and structure. So says Monsieur Buffon, in his big book, in

the next room."

Later in the day the doctor came, and was closeted with papa for some

time.

He was a skilful man, of sixty and upwards, he wore powder, and shaved

his pale face as smooth as a pumpkin. He and papa emerged from the room

together, and I heard papa laugh, and say as they came out: "Well, I do wonder at a wise man like you. What do you say to

hippogriffs and dragons?"