Best Horror Novels

Chapter 9 The Doctor

Chapter 9

The DoctorAs Carmilla would not hear of an attendant sleeping in her room,

my father arranged that a servant should sleep outside her door, so

that she would not attempt to make another such excursion without

being arrested at her own door.

That night passed quietly; and next morning early, the doctor,

whom my father had sent for without telling me a word about it,

arrived to see me.

Madame accompanied me to the library; and there the grave little

doctor, with white hair and spectacles, whom I mentioned before,

was waiting to receive me.

I told him my story, and as I proceeded he grew graver and

graver.

We were standing, he and I, in the recess of one of the windows,

facing one another. When my statement was over, he leaned with his

shoulders against the wall, and with his eyes fixed on me

earnestly, with an interest in which was a dash of horror.

After a minute's reflection, he asked Madame if he could see my

father.

He was sent for accordingly, and as he entered, smiling, he

said:

"I dare say, doctor, you are going to tell me that I am an old

fool for having brought you here; I hope I am."

But his smile faded into shadow as the doctor, with a very grave

face, beckoned him to him.

He and the doctor talked for some time in the same recess where

I had just conferred with the physician. It seemed an earnest and

argumentative conversation. The room is very large, and I and

Madame stood together, burning with curiosity, at the farther end.

Not a word could we hear, however, for they spoke in a very low

tone, and the deep recess of the window quite concealed the doctor

from view, and very nearly my father, whose foot, arm, and shoulder

only could we see; and the voices were, I suppose, all the less

audible for the sort of closet which the thick wall and window

formed.

After a time my father's face looked into the room; it was pale,

thoughtful, and, I fancied, agitated.

"Laura, dear, come here for a moment. Madame, we shan't trouble

you, the doctor says, at present."

Accordingly I approached, for the first time a little alarmed;

for, although I felt very weak, I did not feel ill; and strength,

one always fancies, is a thing that may be picked up when we

please.

My father held out his hand to me, as I drew near, but he was

looking at the doctor, and he said:

"It certainly is very odd; I don't understand it quite. Laura,

come here, dear; now attend to Doctor Spielsberg, and recollect

yourself."

"You mentioned a sensation like that of two needles piercing the

skin, somewhere about your neck, on the night when you experienced

your first horrible dream. Is there still any soreness?"

"None at all," I answered.

"Can you indicate with your finger about the point at which you

think this occurred?"

"Very little below my throat—here," I answered.

I wore a morning dress, which covered the place I pointed

to.

"Now you can satisfy yourself," said the doctor. "You won't mind

your papa's lowering your dress a very little. It is necessary, to

detect a symptom of the complaint under which you have been

suffering."

I acquiesced. It was only an inch or two below the edge of my

collar.

"God bless me!—so it is," exclaimed my father, growing pale.

"You see it now with your own eyes," said the doctor, with a

gloomy triumph.

"What is it?" I exclaimed, beginning to be frightened.

"Nothing, my dear young lady, but a small blue spot, about the

size of the tip of your little finger; and now," he continued,

turning to papa, "the question is what is best to be done?"

"Is there any danger?" I urged, in great trepidation.

"I trust not, my dear," answered the doctor. "I don't see why

you should not recover. I don't see why you should not begin

immediately to get better. That is the point at which the sense of

strangulation begins?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And—recollect as well as you can—the same point was a kind of

center of that thrill which you described just now, like the

current of a cold stream running against you?"

"It may have been; I think it was."

"Ay, you see?" he added, turning to my father. "Shall I say a

word to Madame?"

"Certainly," said my father.

He called Madame to him, and said:

"I find my young friend here far from well. It won't be of any

great consequence, I hope; but it will be necessary that some steps

be taken, which I will explain by-and-by; but in the meantime,

Madame, you will be so good as not to let Miss Laura be alone for

one moment. That is the only direction I need give for the present.

It is indispensable."

"We may rely upon your kindness, Madame, I know," added my

father.

Madame satisfied him eagerly.

"And you, dear Laura, I know you will observe the doctor's

direction."

"I shall have to ask your opinion upon another patient, whose

symptoms slightly resemble those of my daughter, that have just

been detailed to you—very much milder in degree, but I believe

quite of the same sort. She is a young lady—our guest; but as you

say you will be passing this way again this evening, you can't do

better than take your supper here, and you can then see her. She

does not come down till the afternoon."

"I thank you," said the doctor. "I shall be with you, then, at

about seven this evening."

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."

He turned and left the room, but came back before I had done

wondering and puzzling over the oddity of all this; it was merely

to say that he was going to Karnstein, and had ordered the carriage

to be ready at twelve, and that I and Madame should accompany him;

he was going to see the priest who lived near those picturesque

grounds, upon business, and as Carmilla had never seen them, she

could follow, when she came down, with Mademoiselle, who would

bring materials for what you call a picnic, which might be laid for

us in the ruined castle.

At twelve o'clock, accordingly, I was ready, and not long after,

my father, Madame and I set out upon our projected drive.

Passing the drawbridge we turn to the right, and follow the road

over the steep Gothic bridge, westward, to reach the deserted

village and ruined castle of Karnstein.

No sylvan drive can be fancied prettier. The ground breaks into

gentle hills and hollows, all clothed with beautiful wood, totally

destitute of the comparative formality which artificial planting

and early culture and pruning impart.

The irregularities of the ground often lead the road out of its

course, and cause it to wind beautifully round the sides of broken

hollows and the steeper sides of the hills, among varieties of

ground almost inexhaustible.

Turning one of these points, we suddenly encountered our old

friend, the General, riding towards us, attended by a mounted

servant. His portmanteaus were following in a hired wagon, such as

we term a cart.

The General dismounted as we pulled up, and, after the usual

greetings, was easily persuaded to accept the vacant seat in the

carriage and send his horse on with his servant to the schloss.