Carmilla

And then they repeated their directions to me and to Madame, and with

this parting charge my father left us, and walked out with the doctor;

and I saw them pacing together up and down between the road and the

moat, on the grassy platform in front of the castle, evidently absorbed

in earnest conversation.

The doctor did not return. I saw him mount his horse there, take his

leave, and ride away eastward through the forest.

Nearly at the same time I saw the man arrive from Dranfield with the

letters, and dismount and hand the bag to my father.

In the meantime, Madame and I were both busy, lost in conjecture as to

the reasons of the singular and earnest direction which the doctor and

my father had concurred in imposing. Madame, as she afterwards told me,

was afraid the doctor apprehended a sudden seizure, and that, without

prompt assistance, I might either lose my life in a fit, or at least be

seriously hurt.

The interpretation did not strike me; and I fancied, perhaps luckily for

my nerves, that the arrangement was prescribed simply to secure a

companion, who would prevent my taking too much exercise, or eating

unripe fruit, or doing any of the fifty foolish things to which young

people are supposed to be prone.

About half an hour after my father came in--he had a letter in his

hand--and said: "This letter had been delayed; it is from General Spielsdorf. He might

have been here yesterday, he may not come till tomorrow or he may be

here today."

He put the open letter into my hand; but he did not look pleased, as he

used when a guest, especially one so much loved as the General,

was coming.

On the contrary, he looked as if he wished him at the bottom of the Red

Sea. There was plainly something on his mind which he did not choose

to divulge.

"Papa, darling, will you tell me this?" said I, suddenly laying my hand

on his arm, and looking, I am sure, imploringly in his face.

"Perhaps," he answered, smoothing my hair caressingly over my eyes.

"Does the doctor think me very ill?"

"No, dear; he thinks, if right steps are taken, you will be quite well

again, at least, on the high road to a complete recovery, in a day or

two," he answered, a little dryly. "I wish our good friend, the General,

had chosen any other time; that is, I wish you had been perfectly well

to receive him."

"But do tell me, papa," I insisted, "what does he think is the matter

with me?"

"Nothing; you must not plague me with questions," he answered, with more

irritation than I ever remember him to have displayed before; and seeing

that I looked wounded, I suppose, he kissed me, and added, "You shall

know all about it in a day or two; that is, all that I know. In the

meantime you are not to trouble your head about it."