Carmilla

You will perceive at once that the following story is not written so much with a view to present any historical truth as to clear up certain points which to me were always obscure in older and more pretentious narratives of the subject. The circumstances which I am about to relate occurred, as nearly as I can conjecture, about thirty years since—at the period of my life when, from being a child, I was becoming a young woman.

I say 'as nearly as I can conjecture,' for even now, after the space of so many years, my remembrance of some things is, and must be, imperfect. Presently I shall annex an extract from a journal which I once kept—though my pen has been more idle than it ought. But such as my materials are, I will strive to set my facts in order, giving as little of theory as may be, and that only where the facts themselves render it necessary.

My father was an English officer, and had served long in India. He was an only child, and the property which he inherited was not large. During the years of my childhood we resided in a country house in Styria, the name of which I should not like to mention. Our nearest neighbour was a gentleman of ancient family, called the General, who lived in a small castle a little distance from us. My father's sister Mrs. R., a widow, lived with us.

When I was about six years old there came to us one evening a carriage-and-four from the castle, bringing a very curious stranger—an old woman of a common appearance, who had been taken suddenly ill at the post-house. She was attended by a lady of the neighbourhood, who, on exchanging a few words with my mother, left the poor woman in our care. We had but little thought of the event till night came, and with it a strange agitation in the house.

I remember the old woman well. She was so weak that she could not stand, and she lay upon a pallet in the servants' hall. All that night she lay muttering to herself in a language which I did not understand; but once or twice she raised her head, and looked with a sort of fixed, half-holy, half-demonic expression at the pictures on the walls. In the morning she was dead. My mother had her buried in the garden near the yew-tree; and though the neighbours said that it was more seemly to carry the corpse to the churchyard, my mother thought otherwise.

Not long after this strange visit, there came to us from the General a letter, begging that my father would excuse his lady for not coming to us as usual; she was ill, and confined to her room. We heard afterwards that the old woman who had died at our house was a connection of the General's lady, and that she had been travelling to the castle. The circumstance excited much talk; but for my part, I never thought of the matter again, till years afterwards.

When I was fifteen, I was attacked by a severe fever, during the course of which I had strange and terrible dreams. On recovering from my illness I found that I had lost all taste for my former pursuits; and my mother, anxious about me, sent for physicians and for an intelligent neighbour lady, who had the charge of my education. It was at this period that the events occurred which I am now to relate.

One evening, towards the end of the summer, there came to our house a travelling carriage with the General's coachman, who brought a young lady of extraordinary beauty. She had a pale face, thinness of form, and eyes which seemed at once wild and languid. She said she had been in an accident, and that the carriage had broken down. My mother, who was always hospitable, begged that she would remain with us till morning; and to this the stranger consented.

She stayed with us in the long drawing-room which looked out upon the lawn. It was twilight; the windows were open; a soft wind breathed through the yew-trees; and the candles had been lighted. The young lady sat near the fire; and when my mother left the room for a few minutes, she begged me to sit by her. There was something in her voice and manner which at once attracted and alarmed me.