{"collection":"ritual-magic","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_41071/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_41071","id":"gutenberg_41071","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41071","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Romance","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Clairvoyants -- Fiction","Magicians -- Fiction","Occultism -- Fiction"],"text":"Note: Images of the original pages are available through\n      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See\n      http://archive.org/details/sonofperditionoc00hume\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).\n\n\n\n\n\nA SON OF PERDITION\n\nAn Occult Romance\n\nby\n\nFERGUS HUME\n\nAuthor of\n\"The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,\" \"Lady Jim of Curzon Street,\"\n\"The Mother of Emeralds,\" \"The Jew's House,\" etc., etc.\n\nNew & Cheaper Edition.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nWilliam Rider & Son, Ltd.\n\n\n\n\n    TO\n    MRS. ANNIE BESANT\n    PRESIDENT\n    THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY\n    WHO IS\n    ELOQUENT, WISE, PATIENT,\n    AND TOLERANT\n\n\n\n\n_NOTE_\n\n\n_The Author is indebted for the description of the Star-Worship\ncontained in Chapter XV to Mr. C. W. Leadbeater's articles on \"Ancient\nChaldea,\" which appeared in the February, March, and April numbers of\n\"The Theosophical Review\" during the year 1900._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n     CHAP.                                      PAGE\n\n        I. LOVE IN IDLENESS                        1\n\n       II. THE PROPHECY                           16\n\n      III. THE FULFILMENT                         31\n\n       IV. PLOTTING                               47\n\n        V. THE MEETING                            66\n\n       VI. A CONVERSATION                         83\n\n      VII. BEHIND THE SCENES                      99\n\n     VIII. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM                    112\n\n       IX. THE WARNING                           128\n\n        X. IN CORNWALL                           144\n\n       XI. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY                160\n\n      XII. SMALL BEER CHRONICLES                 177\n\n     XIII. FURTHER SMALL BEER CHRONICLES         196\n\n      XIV. PREPARATION                           215\n\n       XV. THE TRANCE                            231\n\n      XVI. THE DISCIPLE OF LOVE                  248\n\n     XVII. THE DISCIPLE OF HATE                  267\n\n    XVIII. THE NIGHT BEFORE                      282\n\n      XIX. THE MORNING AFTER                     298\n\n       XX. THE UNEXPECTED                        317\n\n      XXI. THE CHOICE                            333\n\n     XXII. RIGHT IS MIGHT                        350\n\n    XXIII. THE ETERNAL STRIFE                    368\n\n     XXIV. DAWN                                  386\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nLOVE IN IDLENESS\n\n\n\"How can any one hope to transfer that to canvas?\" asked the artist,\nsurveying the many-coloured earth and sky and sea with despairing eyes.\n\n\"Easily enough,\" replied the girl at his elbow, \"those who see twice as\nvividly as others, can make others see once as vividly as they do. That\nis what we call genius.\"\n\n\"A large word for my small capabilities, Miss Enistor. Am I a genius?\"\n\n\"Ask yourself, Mr. Hardwick, for none other than yourself can answer\ntruly.\"\n\nOutside his special gift the artist was not over clever, so he lounged\non the yielding turf of the slope to turn the speech over in his mind\nand wait results. This tall solidly built Saxon only arrived at\nconclusions by slow degrees of laborious reflection. With his straight\nathletic figure, closely clipped fair hair and a bronzed complexion,\nagainst which his moustache looked almost white, he resembled a soldier\nrather than a painter. Yet a painter he was of some trifling fame, but\nbeing only moderately creative, he strove to supply what was wanting by\ntoilsome work. He had not so much the steady fire of genius as the\ncrackling combustion of talent. Thus the grim Cornish country and the\nfar-stretching Atlantic waters, so magically beautiful under an\nopalescent sunset, baffled him for the moment.\n\n\"I have the beginnings of genius,\" he finally decided, \"that is, I can\nsee for myself, but I cannot pass the vision on to others by\nproduction.\"\n\n\"Half a loaf is better than none,\" said Miss Enistor soothingly.\n\n\"I am not so sure that your proverb is true, so I reply with another. If\nindeed appetite comes with eating, as the French say, it is useless to\ninvite it with half a loaf, when, for complete satisfaction, one\nrequires the whole.\"\n\n\"There is something in that,\" admitted the girl, smiling, \"but try and\nsecure your desired whole loaf by sitting mousey-quiet and letting what\nis before you sink into your innermost being. Then you may create.\"\n\nCrossing his legs and gripping his ankles, Hardwick, seated in the\napproved attitude of a fakir, did his best to adopt this advice,\nalthough he might well despair of fixing on canvas the fleeting vision\nof that enchanted hour. From the cromlech, near which the couple were\nstationed, a purple carpet of heather rolled down to a winding road,\nwhite and dusty and broad. On the hither side of the loosely built wall\nwhich skirted this, stretched many smooth green fields, divided and\nsubdivided by boundaries of piled stones, feathery with ferns and coarse\ngrasses. Beyond the confines of this ordered world, a chaos of bracken\nand ling, of small shrubs and stunted trees, together with giant masses\nof silvery granite, islanded amidst a sea of gold-besprinkled gorse,\ntumbled pell-mell to the jagged edge of the cliffs. Finally, the bluish\nplain of ocean glittered spaciously to the far sharp horizon-line.\nThence rose billowy clouds of glorious hues threaded with the fires of\nthe sinking sun, heaping themselves in rainbow tints higher and higher\ntowards the radiant azure of the zenith. No ship was on the water, no\nanimals moved on the land, and even the grey huddle of houses, to which\nthe smooth level road led, appeared to be without inhabitants. For all\nthat could be seen of sentient life, the two on the hilltop were alone\nin this world of changeful beauty: the Adam and Eve of a new creation.\n\n\"Yet,\" murmured the girl, to whom this stillness suggested thoughts,\n\"around us are nature-spirits, invisible and busy, both watchful and\nindifferent. Oh, Mr. Hardwick, how I should love to see the trolls, the\npixies, the gnomes and the nixies.\"\n\n\"Rhyme, if not reason,\" laughed the artist lazily, \"one must have the\neye of faith to see such impossible things.\"\n\n\"Impossible?\" Miss Enistor shrugged her shoulders and declined to combat\nhis scepticism beyond the query of the one word. As that did not invite\nconversation, Hardwick gave himself up to the mere contentment of\nlooking at her. Amidst the warm splendours of the hour, she somehow\nconveyed to him the sensation of a grey and pensive autumn day,\nhaunting, yet elusive in its misty beauty. He was wholly unable to put\nthis feeling into words, but he conceived it dimly as a subtle blurring\nof the picture she had bidden him create. His love for her was like a\nveil before his conception, and until that veil was removed by his\nsurrender of the passion, the execution of the landscape on canvas was\nimpossible. Yet so sweet was this drawback to his working powers that he\ncould not wish it away.\n\nYet it was strange that the girl should be attractive to a man of his\nlimitations, since her alluring qualities were not aggressively\napparent. A delicate oval face, exquisitely moulded, with a transparent\ncolourless skin, and mystical eyes of larkspur blue, were scarcely what\nhis blunt perceptions approved of as absolute beauty. Slim and dainty\nand fragile in shape and stature, her unusual looks suggested a\ncloistered nun given to visions or some peaked elfin creature of\nmoonlight and mist. She might have been akin to the fairies she spoke\nabout, and even in the strong daylight she was a creature of dreams\nethereal and evanescent. Hardwick was much too phlegmatic a man to\nanalyse shadows. A Celt would have comprehended the hidden charm which\ndrew him on; the Saxon could only wonder what there was in the girl to\nimpress him.\n\n\"You are not my ideal of beauty, you know, Miss Enistor,\" he said in\nsuch a puzzled way as to rob the speech of premeditated rudeness; \"yet\nthere is something about you which makes me adore you!\"\n\nThe girl flushed and shrugged her shoulders again. \"What a flamboyant\nword is 'adored'!\"\n\n\"It is the only word I can use,\" said Hardwick stoutly. \"The Venus of\nMilo, Brynhild in the Volsung poem, Jael who slew Sisera, Rubens' robust\nnymphs: these were the types which appealed to me--until I met you.\"\n\n\"How complimentary to my small commonplace looks! What caused you to\nchange your mind, Mr. Hardwick?\"\n\n\"Something you possess, which is not apparent.\"\n\n\"You talk in riddles. What attracts any one must be apparent.\"\n\n\"Well, that is uncertain. I am not a deep thinker, you know. But there\nis such a thing as glamour.\"\n\n\"There is. But you are not the man to comprehend the meaning of the\nword.\"\n\n\"I admit that: all the same I feel its influence--in you!\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean,\" said the girl indifferently.\n\n\"Nor do I. Yet the feeling is here,\" and he touched his heart. \"If I\ncould only shape that feeling into words,\"--he hesitated and blushed.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"I might be able to tell you much--Alice.\"\n\n\"Why do you use my Christian name?\"\n\n\"Why not? We are man and woman on a hillside, and not over-civilised\nbeings in a drawing-room. You are Alice: I am Julian. It is quite\nsimple.\"\n\n\"But too intimate,\" she objected, \"you have known me only six months.\"\n\n\"Do you reckon knowledge by Time?\"\n\n\"You have no knowledge: you confessed as much lately.\"\n\nHardwick looked at her earnestly. \"I have this much, that I know how\ndeeply I love you, my dear!\" and he took her hand gently between his\npalms.\n\nAlice let it lie there undisturbed, but did not return his pressure. For\na few moments she looked straightly at the sunset. \"I am sorry to hear\nyou say that,\" was her calm remark when she did decide to speak.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because I can never love you!\"\n\n\"Love can create love,\" urged Julian, again pressing her hand and again\nreceiving no answering caress.\n\n\"Not between you and me. You may be fire, but I am not tow to catch\nalight.\" The flush had disappeared from her face, leaving it pure and\nwhite and calm to such a degree that the man dropped her hand. It was\nlike holding a piece of ice, and he felt chilled by the aloofness of\ntouch and look. \"But you are a woman,\" he said roughly in his vexation,\n\"you must know what love means.\"\n\n\"I don't: really I don't.\" Alice hugged her knees and stared with the\nsublime quietness of an Egyptian statue at his perturbed countenance. As\nhe did not answer, she continued to speak in a deliberate way, which\nshowed that his proposal had not touched her heart in the least. \"My\nmother died when I was born, and I had Dame Trevel in the village yonder\nas my foster-mother until I was ten years of age. Then my father sent me\nto a Hampstead boarding school for eleven years. I returned only twelve\nmonths ago to live at Tremore\"--she nodded towards a long low grey\nhouse, which basked on a neighbouring hilltop like a sullen reptile in\nthe sunshine.\n\n\"But your father----?\"\n\n\"My father,\" interrupted the girl in a melancholy tone, \"has no love for\nany one but himself. At times I think he hates me for causing the death\nof my mother by being born.\"\n\n\"Surely not.\"\n\n\"Well, you have seen my father. I leave you to judge.\"\n\nHardwick was puzzled how to reply. \"He is not a man who shows his\nfeelings, you know,\" he said delicately.\n\n\"I don't think he has any feelings to show,\" replied Alice\nindifferently. \"I am used to his neglect, and so have schooled myself to\nbe quietly agreeable without expecting any demonstrations of affection.\"\n\nHardwick nodded. \"I have noticed, when dining at Tremore, that you are\nmore like well-bred acquaintances than father and daughter. Perhaps,\" he\nadded in a dreamy tone, \"that is what first made me fall in love with\nyou.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said Miss Enistor ironically, \"you have come across the line of\nShakespeare which says that pity is akin to love.\"\n\n\"I have never read Shakespeare's plays,\" admitted Mr. Hardwick simply.\n\"I'm not a clever chap, you know. But you looked so forlorn in that\ndismal house, and seemed so starving for kind words and actions, that I\nwanted to take you away with me and make you happier. Yes,\" the artist\nquite brightened at his own perspicuity, \"that is what drew me to you--a\ndesire to give you a really good time.\"\n\nAlice looked at him gravely, but with a suspicion of a smile on her pale\nlips. \"Do you know, Julian, that I believe you to be a good man.\" The\nartist blushed again: he had the trick of blushing on occasions, which\nshowed him to possess still the modesty of boyhood. \"Oh, I say,\" he\nmurmured almost inaudibly; then to cover his confusion added: \"You call\nme Julian.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Alice nodded her head in a stately way. \"Henceforth let us be the\ngreatest of friends.\"\n\n\"Lovers,\" he urged, \"true honest lovers.\"\n\n\"No, Julian. We would be neither true nor honest as lovers. Our marriage\nwould not be one of those made in heaven.\"\n\n\"Are any marriages made in heaven?\" he asked somewhat cynically.\n\nShe looked at him in surprise. \"Of course. When one soul meets another\nsoul capable of blending with it, that is a heavenly marriage.\"\n\n\"Well then,\" he cried impetuously, \"my soul and your soul?\"\n\nAlice shook her head. \"We don't strike the same note: we are not in\nharmony, Julian. As friends we can esteem one another, but as lovers, as\nman and wife, you would end in boring me as I should finally bore you.\"\n\n\"One would think you were fifty to hear you talk so,\" said Hardwick\ncrossly.\n\n\"Do you reckon knowledge by Time?\" she asked, harking back to the phrase\nhe had used earlier in the conversation.\n\nHe had no reply ready. \"Still it is odd to hear a girl of twenty-one\ntalk as you do, Alice.\"\n\n\"You are speaking of my new suit of clothes. I am as old as the world.\"\n\n\"Oh, that is the queer stuff your father talks. He believes in\nreincarnation, doesn't he?\"\n\n\"He does, and so do I.\"\n\n\"I wonder that you can. A sensible girl like you----\"\n\n\"My dear Julian, you speak without knowledge,\" she interrupted placidly.\n\n\"That can't be knowledge which can't be proved.\"\n\n\"I think you must be a reincarnation of Nicodemus,\" retorted Miss\nEnistor.\n\n\"That is no answer.\"\n\n\"Now how can I give you an answer, when you have not the capability of\ngrasping the answer, Julian? If a peasant wanted a mathematical problem\nproved to him, he would have to learn mathematics to understand it.\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose so. But you mean----\"\n\n\"I mean that you have to live the life to understand the doctrine.\nChrist said that two thousand years ago, and it is as true to-day as it\nwas then.\"\n\nWith his slow habit of thinking Hardwick had to revolve this speech in\nhis mind before replying. Alice, with an impish look of mischief on her\nface, laughed also to prevent his answering. \"I am taking you into deep\nwater and you will be drowned,\" she said lightly, \"suppose you begin\nyour picture.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the man soberly. \"I don't feel like painting the picture. I\ndon't believe I ever could,\" and he looked at the fading glories of sea\nand land regretfully.\n\n\"Next time you are born you will be a genius,\" said Miss Enistor\ncheerfully, \"as you are building up in this life the brain required by a\nmaster-painter. Meantime I wish you to be my friend.\"\n\n\"Well, it is hard to decline from love to friendship, but----\"\n\n\"No 'buts.' Friendship is love from another point of view.\"\n\n\"Not my point of view.\"\n\nAlice raised an admonitory finger. \"You mustn't be selfish,\" she said\nseverely.\n\n\"Selfish? I? How can I be?\"\n\n\"By wishing me to give for your gratification what I cannot give for my\nown. I cannot love you as you desire, because there is not that\nspiritual link between us which means true love. Therefore to make me\nhappy, if you really love me, you should be prepared to sacrifice\nyourself to the lower feeling of friendship.\"\n\n\"That is too high for me,\" murmured Hardwick despondingly, \"but I see\nthat you won't have me as your husband.\"\n\n\"Certainly not. I want a man to love me, not to pity me.\"\n\n\"It isn't exactly pity.\"\n\n\"Yes it is,\" she insisted, \"you are sorry for me because I live in a\ndull house with a neglectful father. It is very nice of you to think so,\nand it is still nicer to think that you are willing to help me by tying\nyourself to a woman you do not really love. But I can't accept that\nsacrifice. You must be my friend, Julian--my true honest friend.\"\n\nHardwick glanced into her deep blue eyes, and unintelligent as he was in\nsuch subtle matters read his answer therein. \"I shall do my best,\" he\nsaid with a deep sigh; \"but you must give me time to cool down from\npassion to friendship. I want you to be my wife, and like all women you\noffer to be a sister to me.\"\n\n\"Or I will be your cousin if the relation will suit you better,\" said\nthe girl, laughing outright at his rueful looks.\n\nJulian took offence. \"You don't pity me?\"\n\n\"Not at all, since your feeling is not one of genuine love,\" was the\ncool response. \"I would if it were.\"\n\n\"One would think you were a hardened woman of the world to hear you\nspeak in this way.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I was a woman of the world in my last incarnation, Julian. I\nseem to have brought over a great deal of common sense to this life. You\nare a dear, sweet, placid thing, but although you have seen more of\nhuman nature and worldly existence this time than I have, you don't know\nhalf so much.\"\n\n\"Alice, you are conceited.\"\n\n\"Ah, that speech shows you are yet heart-whole, Julian. If you were\nreally in love you would never dare to speak so to your divinity.\"\n\n\"Well, I daresay I shall get over it. But it's hard on a fellow.\"\n\n\"Not at all. Hard on your vanity perhaps, but vanity isn't you. Come,\"\nAlice sprang to her feet and took up her smart silver-headed cane, \"the\nsun will soon go down and I must get home. We are friends, are we not?\"\nshe held out her hand smiling.\n\n\"Of course we are.\" Hardwick bent to kiss her hand and she snatched it\naway swiftly.\n\n\"That isn't friendship.\"\n\n\"Oh, with you friendship means: 'You may look, but you mustn't touch.'\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said Miss Enistor lightly, \"consider me if you please as a\nvaluable Dresden china ornament under a glass shade.\"\n\nJulian heaved another sigh and began to collect his painting materials.\n\"I must if I must,\" he admitted grudgingly; \"there isn't another man, I\nsuppose?\"\n\nThe face of the girl grew grave. \"There isn't another man whom I love,\nif that is what you mean,\" she said, reluctantly. \"I have not yet met\nwith my Prince, who will wake me to love and beauty. But there is a man\nwho wants, as you do, to be the Prince.\"\n\n\"Oh hang him, who is he?\"\n\n\"Don Pablo Narvaez!\"\n\n\"That old mummy. Impossible!\"\n\n\"It is both possible and disagreeable. He hinted the other day that\nhe----\"\n\n\"Loved you? What impertinence!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Alice dryly, \"he did not commit himself so far. But he hinted\nthat he would like me to be his wife. My father afterwards told me that\nit would be a good match for me, as Don Pablo is wealthy.\"\n\n\"Wealthy be blessed, Alice,\" rejoined Hardwick with great heat. \"You\ndon't want to take your husband from a museum.\"\n\n\"I don't and I won't,\" she replied with great determination, \"and for\nthat reason I wish you to be my friend.\"\n\n\"Why, what can I do?\"\n\n\"Stand by me. If my father insists upon my marrying Don Pablo, you must\nsay that I am engaged to you, and this will give you the right to\ninterfere.\"\n\nHardwick packed his traps, and swung up the hill on the home-path\nalongside the girl. \"How can you ask me to take up such a position when\nyou know that I love you, Alice?\"\n\n\"If I thought that you did I should not ask for your help, Julian. But\nin your own heart you know that you really do not love me. It is only\nwhat you call the glamour of my personality that has caught you for the\nmoment. It is not improbable,\" she went on musingly, \"that there may be\nsome slight link between us dating from our meeting in former lives, but\nit is not a strong enough one to bring us together this time as man and\nwife!\"\n\n\"Oh, this mystical talk makes me tired,\" cried the painter in quite an\nAmerican way, \"it's silly.\"\n\n\"So it is from your point of view,\" said Miss Enistor promptly, \"let us\nget down to what you call common sense in your robust Anglo-Saxon style.\nI want you to stand between me and Don Pablo in the way I suggest. Will\nyou?\"\n\n\"Yes. That is--give me a day or two to think the matter over. I am flesh\nand blood, you know, Alice, and not stone.\"\n\n\"Oh, nonsense, you deceive yourself,\" she retorted impatiently. \"Don't I\ntell you that if I thought your feeling for me was really genuine I\nshould not be so wicked as to risk your unhappiness? But I know you\nbetter than you do yourself. If you loved me, would you have chatted\nabout this, that and the other thing so lightly after I had rejected\nyou?\"\n\n\"There is something in that,\" admitted Hardwick, as Alice had done\npreviously with regard to his whole-loaf argument. \"Well, I daresay I\nshall appear as your official lover. Don Pablo shan't worry you if I can\nhelp it.\"\n\n\"Thanks, you dear good boy,\" rejoined the girl gratefully and squeezed\nthe artist's arm. \"Don't you feel fire running through your veins when I\ntouch you, Julian?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Hardwick stolidly.\n\n\"Doesn't your heart beat nineteen to the dozen: haven't you the feeling\nthat this is heaven on earth?\"\n\n\"Not a bit.\"\n\nAlice dropped his arm with a merry laugh. \"And you talk about being in\nlove with me! Can't you see now how wise I was to refuse you?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Hardwick reluctantly, for he felt that she was perfectly\nright in her diagnosis; \"there may be something in what you say.\"\n\n\"There is everything in what I say,\" she insisted; \"however, I shall\ngive you another chance. Catch me before I reach Tremore and I shall be\nyour wife.\"\n\nBefore Hardwick could accept or refuse, she sprang up the narrow winding\npath as lightly as Atalanta. More out of pique than absolute desire the\nartist followed. Although he now began to see that he had taken a false\nEros for the true one, he resolutely sped after the flying figure, if\nonly to have the pleasure of refusing the prize when he won it. But he\nmight as well have attempted to catch an air-bubble. Alice was swifter\nthan he was, and ran in a flying way which reminded him of a darting\nswallow. Down the declivity she dropped, following the twists of the\npathway amongst the purple heather, and sprang across the brawling\nstream at the bottom of the valley before he was half-way down. Then up\nshe mounted, with an arch backward glance, to scale the hill whereon\nTremore gloomed amidst its muffling trees. At the gate set in the\nmouldering brick wall he nearly caught her, for pride winged his feet.\nBut she eluded his grasp with a laugh and disappeared amongst the\nfoliage of the miniature forest. When next she came in sight, he beheld\nher standing at the sombre porch of the squat mansion binding up her\ntresses of black hair, which had become loose with her exertions.\n\n\"You don't love me,\" panted Alice, who had scarcely got her breath, \"if\nyou did I should have been in your arms by this time.\"\n\n\"Pouf!\" puffed Hardwick, wiping his wet brow. \"Pouf! pouf! pouf!\"\n\n\"Is that all you have to say?\"\n\n\"It is all I am able to say. Pouf! Pouf! Well, my dear girl, Saul went\nto look for his asses and found a kingdom. I went to look for a kingdom\nof love and find an ass--in myself.\"\n\n\"Oh no! no!\" protested Alice, rather distressed.\n\n\"Oh yes! yes! The love-mood has come and gone in the space of an\nafternoon, Miss Enistor.\"\n\n\"Alice to you, Julian,\" and she held out her hand.\n\nThe artist did not attempt to kiss it this time. \"Brother and sister,\"\nhe said, giving the hand a hearty shake, \"and official lover when\nnecessary.\"\n\n\"It's a bargain,\" replied Miss Enistor beaming, and so it was arranged.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE PROPHECY\n\n\nFrom the hilltop where Alice and her rejected lover had conversed, the\nhouse called Tremore could be plainly seen in its grey nakedness. But on\nthe other side, in front and at the back, it was screened from the salt\nAtlantic winds by a dismal wood of stone-pines, yews, cypress-trees and\ngiant cedars, planted by various Enistors in the long-distant past, when\nthey had first set up their tent on the waste moorland. The gloomy\ndisposition of the race could be seen, not only in the funereal types of\ntrees chosen for sheltering the mansion, but in the grim look of the\nmansion itself. Never was there so dreary a place.\n\nTremore means \"great dwelling\" in the Celtic tongue, but the name could\nonly apply to this particular house from the unusual space of ground it\ncovered, since it was only one storey high. Built of untrimmed granite\nblocks and roofed with dull hued slates, it stretched in a narrow line\ntowards the rear of the hill on which it stood. Here it divided into two\nother narrow lines, forming on the whole the exact shape of the letter\n\"Y.\" One of the forks contained the kitchen, the servants' sleeping\napartments and the domestic offices: the other held the bedrooms of the\ngentry, while the main stem of the letter was made up of drawing-room,\nlibrary, sitting-room and dining-room. It was an odd place quaintly\nplanned and curiously built: but then the Enistors were odd people.\n\nOne markedly strange thing amongst others was the absence of vegetation\nabout the house, since nothing would grow near it. Flowers were\nconspicuous by their absence, turf was wanting, and not even weeds would\nflourish. The very trees stood aloof in sulky darkness, leaving the\nbuilding isolated in an arid space of beaten earth. There it stood on\nthe bare ground with its heavy porch, its thick walls and many small\nwindows, bleak in its nakedness for want of draping ivy. True enough\nthere was a kitchen-garden and a small orchard at the back, beyond the\nscreen of trees, which flourished tolerably, but round the house\ngreenery was wanting, as if the place was cursed. Perhaps it was, as the\nEnistors had borne a sinister reputation for generations. But whatever\nthe reason might be, Tremore might have been built in the desert from\nthe way in which it lay like a sullen snake on the barren earth. And a\ntwo-headed snake at that, like some demon of a fairy tale.\n\nThe interior of this undesirable mansion was desperately gloomy, as all\nthe rooms were small with low ceilings, and for the most part panelled\nwith black oak dull and unpolished. The kitchen and servants' rooms were\nmore agreeable, as here Mr. Enistor had conformed to modern ideas of\ncheerfulness so far as to paper and tile the walls brightly. But his own\nparticular portion of the house he would not allow to be touched, and\nalthough it was comfortable enough, it was decidedly depressing, with\nits sombre tints and stuffy atmosphere. Often did Alice leave its dark\nchambers and its dismal surroundings to breathe freely on the vast\nspaces of the moors. East and West and North and South stretched the\ntreeless lands, covered with heather and dangerous with the shafts of\nworked-out mines. The village of Polwellin below belonged to the\nEnistors, and over it and its inhabitants the present head of the old\nfamily exercised a feudal sway. But beyond this particular collection of\ndwellings, containing one hundred people, more or less, there was no\nhouse or hamlet for some leagues. Perchton, a watering-place haunted by\nartists, was the nearest town, and that was ten miles distant. Tremore\nwould have suited a misanthrope, but it was not a place wherein Alice\ncared to live. She was young and inclined to mix with her fellow\ncreatures, but never did any chance come by which she could enter\nsociety. It was no wonder that the girl was peaked and pining, and could\nsee things invisible to the ordinary person. Isolation was unhealthy for\none of her temperament.\n\nSeated at the heavy mahogany table, whence, in old-fashioned style, the\ncloth had been removed for dessert, Alice almost regretted that she\nhad not accepted Hardwick's proposal to remove her from such sad\nsurroundings. The dull carved panelling of the walls, the sombre family\nportraits, the cumbersome furniture, together with the lowness of the\nceiling and the limited space of the room, stifled her and depressed her\nspirits to such a degree that she could scarcely eat. Mr. Enistor and\nDon Pablo--the latter dined at Tremore on this particular night--were in\naccurate evening dress, and the whole apartment bore an aspect of\ngood-breeding and stately ceremonial. The host was attached to the\ncustoms of his ancestors, and his meals were always served with quite\nroyal etiquette. And by the light of the many wax candles in silver\nholders which illuminated the room--Mr. Enistor would have nothing to do\nwith lamps--Alice looked curiously at the two men, whose want of\nvitality, as she vaguely thought, drew the life-power from herself.\n\nShe was wrong as regarded her father, for Korah Enistor was a handsome,\nhealthy man in the prime of life, and had plenty of vitality in his\nrobust frame. He looked somewhat austere with his dark hair, scarcely\ntouched with white, his dark eyes and powerful face, which lacked colour\nas much as her own did. Like Hardwick, the man resembled a soldier, as\nhe was tall and lean, well-built and active. Also, he possessed the\nimperious manner of one accustomed to command men, and spoke in a slow\ndeliberate manner with compelling glances of his dark eyes. The most\ncasual observer would have noted that here was a strong personality\ngiven to dominate rather than to obey. All the same, Alice noticed that\nher strong-willed father pointedly deferred to Don Pablo Narvaez, in a\nway which argued that he rendered _him_ obedience. It was strange that\nshe should entertain this idea seeing that the Spaniard was as frail as\nEnistor was strong, and did not at all look like one who could, or\nwould, rule so aggressive a personality. This odd deference had puzzled\nher on previous occasions, but to-night the feeling that her father was\nthrall to Don Pablo was particularly strong.\n\nA breath, she thought, could have blown the guest away like thistledown,\nso frail and weak did he appear. What his age was she could not guess,\nbut conceived that he was an octogenarian. His scanty white hair, his\nshrunken figure, his small wrinkled face, and the false teeth which\nshowed when he smiled, all favoured this belief. Don Pablo was like an\nexpiring flame, which the slightest breath might extinguish, and the\nonly thing, hinting to the girl's mind at enduring life, were his eyes.\nThese were of a brighter blue than her own, extraordinarily large and\npiercing, so that few could bear their direct gaze. The idea entered\nAlice's head at the moment that here was a bunch of blooming flowers in\na cracked vase of great age, or to be less fanciful, she told herself\nthat Narvaez had a weak body dominated by a powerful will which kept the\nlife intact. She could imagine him stepping out of that fragile shape,\nand still be alive, more powerful and more vitalised in another. His\nbrain was clear, his speech was incisive, and always he used his\ndominating eyes to compel all those he gazed at to surrender to the\nspell of his powerful mind. There was something sinister about his\ninterior youthfulness and exterior senility.\n\nThe girl both hated and dreaded him. Being sensitive she was responsive\nto influences which a coarser nature--say that of Hardwick--would never\nfeel. Don Pablo impressed her as something terrible in spite of his weak\nlooks. His frail body was only the jungle, as it were, that concealed\nthe tiger, and she could imagine him putting forth powers whose force\nwould shatter the aging tenement. What such powers might be she did not\nknow, as he revealed nothing of his dominating nature to her. But she\nvaguely felt that what force he possessed was deadly evil, and would be\nused for purely evil purposes. Therefore, warned instinctively by her\npure soul, she kept out of his way as much as possible. The stealthy\nattempts of her father to bring youth and age together, Alice resisted\nas best she could. But it was difficult to fight against two such\ncommanding natures, and all the time there was the insistent feeling of\nbeing drawn into darkness. Alice often blamed herself for thinking in\nthis hostile way of her father, but could never get rid of her doubts.\nIt was firmly rooted in her mind that Narvaez and Enistor were dwelling\nin an atmosphere of evil, which they wished to extend so as to include\nherself. At the moment the pressure was particularly strong, and she\nsighed with weariness as the invisible forces came up against her.\nHardly had the sound left her lips when Don Pablo glanced swiftly at his\nhost.\n\n\"You are tired, Alice,\" said Enistor, rising to open the door. \"The heat\nis oppressive to-night. Take a turn in the garden and you will feel\nbetter. Is your head aching?\"\n\n\"Yes, father,\" replied the girl almost inaudibly, and glided out of the\nroom like an unquiet ghost to seek the life-giving moorland air.\n\nHer father returned to the table in his stately fashion, and poured\nhimself out a fresh glass of water. On the shining mahogany there were\nno decanters of wine: only dishes of fruit, crystal jugs of water, and\nthe three empty coffee-cups. Neither Narvaez nor his host drank any\nalcoholic liquor: they did not indulge in smoking and were extremely\ntemperate in eating. An ordinary man would have missed the smiling\ngood-fellowship which is usually to be found at a dinner-table. Had\nthese two even laughed outright they would have appeared more human. But\nthey did not, and throughout their conversation maintained a sinister\ncalmness disconcerting in its aloofness from the chatter and merriment\nof commonplace mortals. Yet somehow this profound quietness seemed to\nsuit the room with its menacing atmosphere.\n\n\"It is difficult,\" murmured Don Pablo, with a glance at the door.\n\n\"But not impossible,\" returned Enistor, answering the thought rather\nthan the words. These two were versed in mind-reading beyond the\nordinary.\n\n\"That is as it may be, my friend!\"\n\nEnistor frowned. \"You mean her innocence?\"\n\n\"Is it necessary for you to put that into words?\" demanded the older man\nin a mocking way; \"of course I mean her innocence. That very purity\nwhich makes the girl so valuable to me is the wall which protects her\nfrom the influence I wish to exercise over her.\"\n\n\"Constant dropping of water wears away a stone, Master.\"\n\n\"That proverb does not apply in every case,\" retorted the other darkly.\n\"I tell you that I am helpless before your daughter. I am too old for\nher to love me, therefore her heart is safe. She is not greedy for\nmoney, or admiration, or position, or dress, or for half a dozen things\nwhich would tempt an ordinary girl. There is no foothold to be\nobtained.\"\n\nThe host cast an uneasy glance round, and his eyes grew piercing, as if\nhe would force the invisible to become apparent. \"She is guarded, we\nknow!\"\n\nNarvaez' wrinkled face grew even darker than before. \"Yes, she is\nguarded. I am aware of the power that guards her.\"\n\n\"So you have said several times, Master. Why not explain more fully?\"\n\n\"The time has not yet come to explain. If you were advanced enough to\nread the Akashic Records, then you might see much that would explain\nthings.\"\n\nEnistor nodded gloomily. \"I understand. The present situation is the\noutcome of the past.\"\n\n\"Everything in life is an outcome of the past,\" said Narvaez, \"even a\nneophyte such as you are should be certain of that. Cause and effect\ngovern all things.\"\n\n\"But if you would explain the cause, I might see how to deal with the\neffect, Master.\"\n\n\"I daresay,\" returned the other dryly, \"but in spite of my superior\nknowledge, I am not yet omnipotent, Enistor. I can read a trifle of the\nrecords, but not easily. There are veils before my eyes which prevent me\nfrom knowing the exact state of affairs which has brought things to this\npass in this set of lives. All I can say is that you and I and your\ndaughter, together with two other people, were in Chaldea over five\nthousand years ago, and the lives then are linked with the lives now.\nThe Karma of that period has to be worked out while we are all in the\nflesh to-day.\"\n\n\"Do you know who the other two people are?\" asked Enistor eagerly.\n\n\"I know one. He is powerful, and hostile to you and to me!\"\n\n\"He does not follow the Left-hand Path then?\"\n\n\"No. He is a White Magician. You will see him some day when the hour\nstrikes. I am teaching you all I can so that you may be able to confront\nhim.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid of any one,\" snapped Enistor sharply.\n\n\"Oh, you have courage enough,\" admitted Narvaez, \"but knowledge must be\nadded to that, if you are to be victorious. As to the other person who\nhas to play a part in the working out of this Karma----\"\n\n\"Well! Well! Well?\"\n\n\"I don't know who or what he is,\" confessed the other.\n\n\"He is a man then?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know that much!\" Narvaez drank a glass of water, and rose with\nan effort as if his bones pained him. \"We had better understand the\nsituation.\" In spite of his mind-reading Enistor could not understand\nand said as much with a puzzled air. Narvaez laughed softly for a moment\nand then became his usual calm self. \"I refer to the position on the\nphysical plane of you and myself and those surrounding us--the flesh and\nblood puppets I mean with which we have to deal.\"\n\n\"Are they puppets?\" demanded Enistor dubiously.\n\n\"One is not. You can guess that I mean our powerful adversary. But the\nothers--bah!\" he swept the air with one lean hand. \"I think I can deal\nwith them, if you give me your assistance.\"\n\n\"I have promised to give it--at a price,\" said Enistor tartly.\n\nThe guest stared at him with a sphinx-like expression. \"I know your\nprice and you shall have your price,\" he dropped into his chair again\nwith an air of fatigue, and his eyes grew brighter than ever. \"Listen,\nmy friend. I came here from Spain three years ago in search of you, as I\nlearned by my arts that you would be useful to me. You have the blood of\nmy race in your veins, as you know, since that Spanish sailor, who was\nwrecked on these coasts in a galleon of the Great Armada, married your\nancestress from whom you are descended.\"\n\n\"I know all this, Master.\"\n\n\"Quite so, but I wish to refresh your memory. I found you here a poor\nman----\"\n\n\"Which I am still,\" interrupted Enistor gloomily.\n\n\"Of course. The time is not yet ripe for you to gain your wish!\"\n\n\"My wish! my wish!\" the host rose and raised his arms, with a fierce\nlook on his powerful face. \"When will it be gratified? I want money--a\nlarge amount--thousands of pounds, since money means power.\"\n\n\"And power is the real thing you desire. The money, as we know, is only\nthe means to obtain that power. You wish to influence men at all costs;\nto rule the masses; to be famous as a leader!\"\n\nThe sneer with which Narvaez made this speech irritated Enistor,\nalthough he was sufficiently educated in mystic lore to be aware how\nimportant absolute self-command is to those who deal with occultism.\nThat is, he knew such was the case, more or less, but could never attain\nto the necessary calm. \"It is not a contemptible ambition,\" he snarled\nsavagely.\n\n\"Our adversary of the Right-hand Path would say so,\" rejoined Narvaez\ncoolly, \"since you desire power and rule and money in order to gratify\nSelf.\"\n\n\"I never knew that you worked for other people, Narvaez,\" sneered\nEnistor.\n\nThe Spaniard smiled coldly. \"I don't, I never shall. I strive, as you\ndo, for power, and, thanks to my knowledge, I have more than you,\nalthough it is not enough to content me. It is because your aims are the\nsame as mine that we can work together. But Alice does not desire\nanything and that is what baffles both of us.\"\n\n\"In that case, she is useless to you, Master, and therefore it is no\ngood your marrying her.\"\n\n\"Once she is my wife, I can influence her more easily, Enistor. As you\nknow, I have no feeling of love for either man or woman. That\nphilanthropic sentiment of sacrifice for humanity is disagreeable to me.\nIn black magic, as in white, one must live like what is called a saint\nto be powerful. To be absolutely free you should never have married.\"\n\n\"Yet you propose to make the same mistake.\"\n\n\"There is no mistake about the matter,\" said Narvaez calmly, \"my\nmarriage with your daughter will be no marriage in the accepted sense of\nthe word. I simply wish to bind her to me, so that I can train the\nclairvoyance she possesses which is so valuable to me. I can give her\nplenty of money----\"\n\n\"You won't give it to me,\" interposed the other hastily.\n\n\"Of course not. Why should I? Nothing for nothing is the rule of the\nLeft-hand Path. But that I require your services and cannot dispense\nwith them I should not waste my time teaching you my knowledge. However,\nthe situation stands thus. I am to marry your daughter, and when I train\nher clairvoyantly--waken her sleeping powers, that is--we may learn\nfrom her reading of the Akashic Records what danger threatens.\"\n\n\"There is a danger then?\"\n\n\"Yes, and a very real one, which has to do with this adversary I told\nyou about. A desire to defeat him brought me to you, and as he is your\nenemy as well as mine, you are wise to obey me in all things.\"\n\n\"Yet I know that when you have no further use for me, you will cast me\naside as of no account,\" said Enistor bitterly.\n\n\"Why not?\" rejoined the other coolly. \"You would act in the same way.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure that I would.\"\n\n\"Ah. You have still some human weakness to get rid of before you can\nprogress on the path along which you ask me to lead you. I have no use\nfor weaklings, Enistor. Remember that.\"\n\nThe host drew himself up haughtily. \"I am no weakling!\"\n\n\"For your own sake, to-morrow, I hope you are not.\"\n\n\"Why to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Because a blow will fall on you.\"\n\nEnistor looked uneasy. \"A blow! What kind of a blow?\"\n\n\"Something to do with a loss of expected money. That is all I can tell\nyou, my friend. You keep certain things from me, so if you are not\nentirely frank, how can you expect me to aid you?\"\n\nEnistor dropped into his chair again, and the perspiration beaded his\ndark face. \"A loss of expected money,\" he muttered, \"and Lucy is ill.\"\n\n\"Who is Lucy?\"\n\n\"My sister who lives in London. A widow called Lady Staunton. She has\nfive thousand a year which she promised years ago to leave to me, so\nthat I might restore the fortunes of the Enistor family. I had news a\nweek ago that she is very ill, and this week I was going up to see her\nin order to make sure she had not changed her mind.\"\n\n\"It is useless your going to see Lady Staunton,\" said Narvaez leisurely,\n\"for she _has_ changed her mind and has made a new will.\"\n\nEnistor scowled and clenched his hands. \"How do you know?\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know details,\" said the Spaniard agreeably, \"those have\nto be supplied by you. All I am certain of is that to-morrow you will\nreceive a letter stating that you have lost some expected money. As the\nsole money you hope to receive is to come from Lady Staunton, it is\nlogical to think that this is what will be lost. You should have told me\nabout this and I could have worked on her mind to keep her true to you.\"\n\n\"But it is impossible,\" cried Enistor, rising to stride up and down in\nan agitated way. \"Lucy is as proud of our family as I am, and always\nsaid she would leave her fortune to restore us to our old position in\nthe country.\"\n\n\"Lady Staunton is a woman, and women are fickle,\" said Narvaez cruelly.\n\"I fear you have lost your chance this time.\"\n\n\"You may be wrong.\"\n\n\"I may be, but I don't think so. I was looking over your horoscope last\nevening, Enistor, and from what I read therein I made further\ninquiries, which have to do with invisible powers I can control.\"\n\n\"Elementals?\"\n\n\"And other things,\" said the magician carelessly; \"however I learned\npositively that you will get bad news of the nature I explained\nto-morrow. It is too late to counteract what has been done.\"\n\n\"The will----?\"\n\n\"Exactly, the will. From what you say I feel convinced that my knowledge\napplies to Lady Staunton and her fortune. See what comes of not being\nfrank with me, Enistor. You are a fool.\"\n\n\"I don't believe what you say.\"\n\n\"As you please. It does not matter to me; except,\" he added with\nemphasis, \"that it makes my hold over you more secure.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"My poor friend!\" Narvaez glanced back from the door towards which he\nhad walked slowly. \"You are losing what little powers you have obtained,\nsince you cannot read my mind. Why, I mean that with five thousand a\nyear you might not be inclined to give me your daughter in marriage. As\na poor man you are forced to do so.\"\n\n\"It seems to me,\" said Enistor angrily, \"that in any case I must do so,\nif I wish to learn the danger which threatens me as well as you.\"\n\n\"Why, that is true. You are clever in saying that.\"\n\n\"But perhaps this possible loss of money is the danger.\"\n\n\"No. The danger is a greater one than the loss of money. It has to do\nwith your life and my life in Chaldea; with our adversary and with the\nunknown man, who is coming to take part in the drama of repayment. I\nhave a feeling,\" said Narvaez, passing his hand across his brow, \"that\nthe curtain rises on our drama with this loss of money.\"\n\n\"I don't believe Lucy will cheat me,\" cried Enistor desperately.\n\n\"Wait until to-morrow's post,\" said Narvaez significantly, \"you will\nfind that I am a true prophet. Our bargain of my marriage with Alice\nmust continue on its present basis, as the want of money will still\nprevent your becoming independent. I might suggest,\" he added, opening\nthe door, \"that you forbid your daughter to see too much of young\nHardwick. She might fall in love with him and that would in a great\nmeasure destroy her clairvoyant powers. She will be of no use to either\nof us then. Good night! When you sleep we shall meet as usual on the\nother plane!\"\n\nNarvaez departed chuckling, for disagreeables befalling others always\namused him. He was absolutely without a heart and without feelings,\nsince for ages in various bodies he had worked hard to rid himself of\nhis humanity. Enistor was on the same evil path, but as yet was human\nenough to worry over the inevitable. Until he slept he did his best to\nconvince himself that Narvaez spoke falsely, but failed utterly in the\nattempt.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE FULFILMENT\n\n\nNext morning Enistor was gloomy and apprehensive, for he had slept very\nbadly during the hours of darkness. He tried to persuade himself that\nthe Spaniard prophesied falsely, but some inward feeling assured him\nthat this was not the case. Before the sun set he was convinced, against\nhis inclinations, that the sinister prediction would be fulfilled.\nTherefore he picked up his morning letters nervously, quite expecting to\nfind a legal one stating that Lady Staunton was dead and had left her\nfive thousand a year to some stranger. Fortunately for his peace of mind\nthere was no letter of the kind, and he made a better breakfast than he\nmight have done. All the same he was morose and sullen, so that Alice\nhad anything but a pleasant time. Towards the end of the meal he\nrelieved his feelings by scolding the girl.\n\n\"I forbid you to see much of that young Hardwick,\" he declared\nimperiously, \"he is in love with you, and I don't wish you to marry a\npauper painter!\"\n\nAware that her father wished her to accept Narvaez, it would have been\nwise for the girl to have held her tongue, since a later confession of a\nfeigned engagement to the artist was her sole chance of resisting the\nloveless marriage. But Enistor was one of those people who invariably\ndrew what was worst in a person to the surface, and she answered\nprematurely. \"Mr. Hardwick proposed yesterday and I refused him.\nTherefore I can see as much of him as I want to, without running any\nrisk of becoming his wife.\"\n\nEnistor ignored the latter part of her reply, proposing to deal with it\nlater. \"You refused him? And why, may I ask?\"\n\n\"He is not the man I want for my husband. He does not complete me!\"\n\n\"Are you then incomplete?\" sneered Enistor scornfully.\n\n\"To my mind every woman and every man must be incomplete until a true\nmarriage takes place!\"\n\n\"What is a true marriage, you silly girl?\"\n\n\"A marriage of souls!\"\n\n\"Pooh! Pooh! That foolish affinity business.\"\n\n\"Is it foolish?\" queried Alice sedately. \"It appears to me to be a great\ntruth.\"\n\n\"Appears to you!\" scoffed her father. \"What does a child such as you are\nknow about such things? At your age you should be healthy enough not to\nthink of your soul and even forget that you have one. Nevertheless I am\nglad that you have refused Hardwick, as I have other views for you.\"\n\n\"If they include marriage with Don Pablo, I decline to entertain them.\"\n\n\"Do you indeed? Rubbish! You are my daughter and shall do as I order.\"\n\n\"I am a human being also, and in this instance I shall not obey.\"\n\nEnistor frowned like a thunderstorm. \"You dare to set your will against\nmy will?\" he demanded, looking at her piercingly.\n\n\"In this instance I do,\" replied Alice, meeting his gaze firmly. \"I am\nquite willing to be an obedient daughter to you in all else. But\nmarriage concerns my whole future and therefore I have a right to choose\nfor myself.\"\n\n\"You have no rights, save those I allow you to have! In refusing\nHardwick you have shown more sense than I expected. But Don Pablo you\nmust marry!\"\n\n\"Must I, father? And why?\"\n\n\"He is wealthy and he adores you.\"\n\nAlice in spite of her nervousness laughed outright. \"I am woman enough\nto see that Don Pablo only adores himself. He wants a hostess to sit at\nthe foot of his table and entertain his friends: he has no use for a\nwife. As to his wealth, I would sooner be happy with a pauper than with\na millionaire, provided I loved him.\"\n\n\"Silly romance: silly romance.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is. But that is my view!\"\n\nEnistor frowned still more darkly, as he saw very plainly that, frail as\nshe was, he could not hope to bend her to his will. In some way he could\nnot explain the girl baffled his powerful personality. Yet it was\nnecessary that she should become the wife of Narvaez, if the danger\nwhich the old man hinted at was to be known and conquered. \"Alice,\nlisten to me,\" said the man entreatingly, \"we are very poor and Don\nPablo is very rich. If you marry him, you will soon be his wealthy\nwidow, as he cannot live long. Then with the money you will be able to\nrestore the fortunes of our family and marry whomsoever you desire. Be\nsensible!\"\n\n\"I refuse to sacrifice myself to a loveless marriage for your sake,\"\nsaid Alice doggedly, and standing up like a weak lily against the force\nof a tempest. \"You don't love me, father: you have never loved me, so\nwhy----\"\n\n\"I am not going to argue the point with you any longer,\" stormed\nEnistor, rising hastily; \"I shall force you to marry Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"In that case I shall marry Julian Hardwick and ask him to protect me,\"\nsaid the girl, rising in her turn, shaking and white, but sullenly\ndetermined.\n\n\"Protect you! Who can protect you against me? I can deal with Hardwick\nand with you in a way you little dream of.\"\n\n\"What you can do to Mr. Hardwick I do not know,\" said the girl steadily,\n\"but me you cannot harm in any way, nor can you compel me, else you\nwould long ago have used your boasted power.\"\n\n\"Are you aware that you are speaking to your father?\" demanded Enistor,\nastonished at her daring.\n\n\"Perfectly! I wish to be a good daughter to you, father, but in a matter\nwhich concerns my whole life I must decline to yield either to your\ncommands or prayers!\"\n\nEnistor could have struck her pale face in his wrath, but, sensitive to\ninvisible things, he became aware that there was a barrier around her\nwhich kept him at arm's length. He knew instinctively that the powerful\ninfluence pervading the room had to do with the unknown individual whom\nNarvaez called \"Our Adversary,\" and felt that he was not prepared to\nmeasure his strength against such a force. So uncomfortable and daunted\ndid he feel, that his one desire was to leave the room, and he began to\nback towards the door. Alice was astonished to see the perspiration\nbeading her father's forehead and watched his departure in dismay.\nUnaware of what was taking place, she looked upon the withdrawal as a\ndeclaration of war, and believed, with some truth, that she would have\nto suffer for opposing resistance to the marriage with Narvaez. Yet she\nstill held out, as she felt a singular sense of security. The same power\nwhich weakened Enistor strengthened her, but not being a trained\noccultist, she wondered how she could dare to face her father so boldly.\n\n\"I shall talk to you later,\" breathed Enistor with an effort, so hostile\nwas the atmosphere. \"Meanwhile you may as well know that if you decline\nto become Don Pablo's wife, you will ruin me.\"\n\nThe Squire--that was his title as the owner of Polwellin village--left\nhis obstinate daughter in the room, and went to the library, which was\nhis own particular domain. Here the opposing influence did not follow\nhim. Sitting down heavily, he began to breathe more freely, and wondered\nwhy he had been so craven as to fly from the field of battle. Although\nhe had been anxious all his life to acquire forbidden lore, he had only\nlearned something of the practical side of occultism since the arrival\nof Narvaez, some three years ago. That ancient sinner was accomplished\nin black arts, and for his own ends was willing to impart something of\nhis knowledge to Enistor. A considerable amount of sinister teaching had\nbeen given to the Squire, but as yet he was but a neophyte, and ignorant\nof many things. Narvaez withheld much purposely, as he was keenly aware\nof Enistor's powerful will and unscrupulous greed for power. The\nSpaniard did not so much desire to instruct his host as to make use of\nhim. Those servants of Christ, who walk on the Right-hand Path, are\npossessed entirely by the Spirit of Love, and are only too anxious to\nteach to the ignorant all that they may be capable of assimilating. But\nthe Brothers of the Shadow are too inherently selfish to be generous,\nand merely give out sufficient knowledge to render their pupils useful\nservants and docile slaves. Narvaez had no intention of cultivating\nEnistor's latent powers to such a strength that they might be dangerous\nto himself. Consequently, although the man was on the threshold of\npower, he had not yet crossed it, and therefore was unable to deal with\nthe force in the dining-room, the strength of which he could not\ncalculate. To influence Alice to work for self in a way which would lure\nher from behind the barrier of the protecting power required more\nknowledge than Enistor possessed. Yet Narvaez likewise professed fear of\nthe Adversary, and could only use cunning instead of command. The Squire\nsmiled grimly to himself as he reflected that the Master himself would\nhave been ignominiously driven from the dining-room in the same way, had\nhe been present.\n\nOf course Enistor did not wish to injure his daughter in any way at\nwhich the world would look askance. He merely desired her to make a\nloveless marriage so as to acquire the wealth of Narvaez, and so that\nshe might be educated in clear-seeing for the purpose of averting a\npossible danger. What that danger might be Enistor did not know, and so\nfar as he could guess Don Pablo was equally ignorant. Therefore it was\nabsolutely necessary that the latent clairvoyant powers of the girl\nshould be brought to the surface and trained, if the safety of the Black\nMagician and his pupil was to be assured. Enistor was aggressively\nselfish, and to save himself was ready to sacrifice his daughter and a\ndozen human beings if necessary to the Dark Powers. Her body, her\nfortune, her honour, would not be injured, but--as Enistor very well\nknew--her soul would be in danger. For this however he cared nothing.\nBetter that the girl should perish than that he should be balked of his\ndaring ambition. But he did not intend to surrender Alice to Don Pablo\nunless his price was paid, and that price included unlimited wealth\ntogether with unlimited power over weaker mortals. Narvaez alone could\ninstruct him in the arts which could command such things.\n\nMeanwhile, as Enistor needed money, it was necessary for him to attend\nto practical matters, which had to do with Lady Staunton! For many years\nEnistor had influenced his sister strongly to leave her entire fortune\nto him, and until Narvaez had spoken on the previous evening, he had\nevery reason to believe that he would get what he wanted. But the\nprediction rendered him uneasy, even though the expected letter had not\nyet arrived. The Ides of March had truly come, but had not passed, and\nalthough the fatal epistle had failed to appear in the morning's batch\nof letters, it might be delivered by the evening post. All that day\nEnistor was naturally uncomfortable and apprehensive. Positive that his\nsister would leave him her fortune, he had rejoiced when the news of her\nillness arrived, and in his fancied security he had not even gone up to\nLondon to make sure that all was safe. Certainly he had never dreamed of\ntaking so long a journey to console the old lady on her death-bed; but\nhe deeply regretted for the sake of the inheritance that he had not\nsought her company during her sickness. Also it might have been\nadvisable to enlist the evil services of Narvaez to clinch the matter,\nand this omission the Squire deeply lamented. However, it was now too\nlate to do anything save wait for the post and hope for the best. He\nsuffered as only a selfish nature can suffer, and the agonies of a truly\nselfish man are very great when he is thwarted.\n\nIt was close upon three o'clock when he was put out of his misery by the\narrival of an unexpected stranger. Enistor, finding that Alice had\nbetaken herself to the safer spaces of the moorlands, had no one to\ntorment, so he busied himself with evil practices in his gloomy library.\nThat is, he used the teaching of Narvaez to concentrate his will-power\non Lady Staunton, so that she might still desire to leave him her money.\nWith her visualised image in his mind's eye, he was sending powerful\nthoughts to her sick-bed insisting that he and he only should benefit by\nthe will. An ignorant person would have laughed at the idea of any one\nbeing so controlled from a distance, but Enistor knew perfectly well\nwhat he was doing, and made ardent use of his unholy telepathy. Later\nwhen the footman announced that Lady Staunton's solicitor, Mr. Cane,\ndesired an interview, Enistor granted it without delay. It was better,\nhe wisely thought, to know the best or the worst at once, without\nsuffering the agonies of suspense until the evening post.\n\nThe new-comer was a bustling, rosy-cheeked little man, well dressed,\nexpansive and voluble. He had no nerves to speak of, and still less\nimagination, therefore he was not in the least impressed by the grey\natmosphere of Tremore. In fact before he condescended to business, he\ncomplimented his host on the breezy altitude of the house and the beauty\nof the surroundings. His courtesy was not at all appreciated, as Enistor\nsoon let him know.\n\n\"I don't suppose you came here to admire the view, Mr. Cane,\" said the\nSquire irritably. \"Your unexpected presence argues that my sister is\ndead.\"\n\nMr. Cane's lively face assumed a solemn expression, and his airy manner\nbecame heavily professional. \"You are right, Mr. Enistor,\" he said\npompously, \"my lamented client, Lady Staunton, passed away to the better\nland in a peaceful frame of mind at ten o'clock last night.\"\n\nEnistor frowned and winced as he remembered his wasted telepathy. \"I am\nsorry,\" he said conventionally, \"and I regret greatly that I was not at\nhand to soothe her last moments. But unexpected business prevented my\ntaking the journey. Still, had I guessed that she was likely to die, I\nshould have managed to be with her.\"\n\n\"Pray do not grieve, Mr. Enistor,\" exclaimed the solicitor with\nunintentional irony. \"My lamented client's last moments were tenderly\nsoothed by her best friend.\"\n\n\"Her best friend?\"\n\n\"So Lady Staunton termed Mr. Montrose!\"\n\n\"I never heard of him,\" said Enistor abruptly. \"Who is he?\"\n\nA most unexpected reply took away the Squire's breath. \"He is the\nfortunate young gentleman who inherits Lady Staunton's property.\"\n\nEnistor rose in a black fury, with clenched fists and incredulous looks.\n\"I don't understand: you must be mistaken,\" he said hoarsely.\n\n\"I am not mistaken,\" replied Cane dryly. \"I was never more in earnest in\nmy life, sir. It is hard on you as my late lamented client's nearest\nrelative, I admit. In fact Lady Staunton thought so too, and asked me to\ncome down as soon as she died to explain her reasons for leaving the\nmoney to Mr. Montrose. Otherwise, since your sister, Mr. Enistor, did\nnot encourage legal matters being attended to out of order, you would\nnot have heard the news until the reading of the will after the funeral.\nAs Lady Staunton died last night, the burial will take place in four\ndays. I have no doubt as a sincere mourner you will be there.\"\n\n\"A sincere mourner!\" cried Enistor, pacing the room hastily to work off\nhis rage. \"How can I be that when my sister has cheated me in this way?\"\n\n\"Oh, not cheated, Mr. Enistor, not cheated,\" pleaded the rosy-cheeked\nlittle man more volubly than ever. \"Lady Staunton's money was her own\nto dispose of as she desired. Besides, she did not forget you entirely:\nshe has left you the sum of one thousand pounds.\"\n\n\"Really!\" sneered the Squire savagely, \"and this Montrose creature\ninherits five thousand a year! It is wicked: infamous, scandalous. I\nshall upset the will, Mr. Cane!\"\n\nThe lawyer remonstrated mildly. \"I fear that is impossible, Mr. Enistor.\nMy lamented client was quite in her right senses when she signed the\nwill, and as I drew it up in accordance with her instructions, you may\nbe certain that all is in good order. I feel for you: upon my word I\nfeel for you,\" added Mr. Cane plaintively, \"and my errand cannot be\ncalled a pleasant one!\"\n\n\"Oh, hang your feelings: what do I care for your feelings! It is my\nsister's iniquitous will that I am thinking about. She knew how poor I\nwas: she was proud of being an Enistor, and she faithfully promised that\nI should have the money in order to mend our family fortunes. What devil\nmade her change her intentions?\"\n\n\"No devil that I am aware of,\" said Cane with puny dignity. \"Lady\nStaunton did make a will in your favour. But a year ago she signed a new\none leaving her income to Mr. Montrose, who is now my client. I decline\non these grounds to hear him spoken of as a devil.\"\n\n\"Oh. Then it was this Montrose beast who made her change her mind?\"\n\n\"No. Certainly he did not. He is not even aware that he has inherited,\nas Lady Staunton asked me to see you first. Only when the will is read,\nafter the funeral in four days, will Mr. Montrose learn of his good\nfortune.\"\n\n\"Montrose does not know,\" said Enistor, striding forward to stand over\nthe little lawyer in a threatening way. \"Then why not destroy this last\nwill and read the old one which is in my favour!\"\n\nCane wriggled beneath Enistor's fiery gaze and slipped sideways out of\nhis chair. \"Are you in your right senses to----\" he began, puffing\nindignantly.\n\nEnistor cut him short. \"Oh, the deuce take your heroics! You know\nperfectly well that I should benefit rather than a stranger. I want the\nmoney and I intend to get the money. By righting this wrong you will be\ndoing a good act, since it seems you have a conscience of sorts. If it\nis a matter of money----\"\n\nThis time it was Cane who interrupted. \"You insult me,\" he vociferated\nshrilly. \"I am an honest lawyer----\"\n\n\"Rather an anomaly,\" interpolated Enistor scoffingly.\n\n\"An honest lawyer,\" continued the little man sturdily, \"and as such I am\nbound to consider the wishes of my client. You are asking me to commit a\nfelony, Mr. Enistor. How dare you! How dare you!\" he mopped his\nperspiring brow. \"What have you seen in me to lead you to make so\ninfamous a proposition?\"\n\n\"I thought I saw some vestiges of common sense,\" said Enistor dryly.\n\"But it seems that you are a fool with a conscience!\"\n\n\"I have a conscience, but I am no fool, Mr. Enistor! I have a great\nmind to tell the world at large how you endeavoured to tempt me!\"\n\n\"If you do, I shall put forth a counter-slander saying that you came\ndown here to tempt _me_.\"\n\n\"To tempt you? To tempt you, sir?\"\n\n\"Why not? If I say that you offered to destroy the last will and\nsubstitute the first provided I gave you a large sum of money, who will\nrefuse to believe the statement?\"\n\n\"Any one who knows me.\"\n\n\"Ah. But the whole world does not know you, Mr. Cane. Your immediate\nfriends may reject the calumny, but the majority of people won't. My\nword is as good as yours, you know!\"\n\n\"You will not dare----\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I shall dare if you dare!\"\n\n\"Am I dealing with a gentleman or a scoundrel?\" asked Cane, appealing to\nthe carved ceiling.\n\n\"Pooh! Pooh!\" said Enistor cynically. \"What is the use of calling names?\nWhy, a gentleman is only a scoundrel who is clever enough not to be\nfound out.\"\n\n\"I disagree: I disagree entirely.\"\n\n\"I thought you would. You are not strong enough to be original. However,\nall this chatter will not alter circumstances. My sister has sold me in\nfavour of this--what do you say his name is?\"\n\n\"Mr. Montrose. Douglas Montrose!\" said Cane sulkily. \"He is----\"\n\n\"Won't you sit down and explain? You will be more comfortable.\"\n\n\"No I won't,\" said Cane sharply and still fretted by the proposition\nwhich had been made to him. \"I doubt if it would not be better for me to\nretire after what you have said.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said Enistor ironically, \"your duty to your late lamented client\nforbids.\"\n\n\"It does, and therefore I remain to explain. But I shall not sit down\nagain in your presence, nor drink your wine, nor eat your food.\"\n\n\"Better wait until you are asked, Mr. Cane. Go on and tell me about\nMontrose.\"\n\nConfounded by his host's disconcerting calm, the little lawyer came to\nthe point, but delivered his explanation standing. \"Mr. Montrose is a\nyoung Scotchman, poor and handsome and clever. He is a poet and a\njournalist, who lives in a Bloomsbury garret, ambitious of literary\nfame. Eighteen months ago he saved Lady Staunton's life when her horses\nbolted in Hyde Park. He stopped them at the risk of his limbs, and\nprevented a serious accident!\"\n\n\"Silly ass,\" muttered Enistor, \"if Lucy had died then, the money would\nhave come to me. Go on.\"\n\nAppalled by this crudely evil speech, Cane started back. \"Are you a man\nor a demon, Mr. Enistor?\"\n\n\"You can ask riddles when you have delivered your message. Though, to be\nsure,\" said Enistor, sitting down, \"there is little need. This handsome\nyoung pauper paid court to my sister, who was always weak and silly. His\nsham heroism and his good looks and effusive compliments worked on her\nfeeble mind, and she made him her heir. Am I right?\"\n\n\"Lady Staunton made Mr. Montrose her heir certainly,\" said Cane,\nshutting up his little black bag and putting on his hat to leave. \"But\nyour description of my new client is wrong. He does not flatter any\none, and his heroism was not a sham. Nor was your sister feeble-minded,\nbut a very clever----\"\n\n\"Woman,\" ended Enistor sharply, \"and being so became the prey of this\nadventurer. Well, Mr. Cane, now that you have delivered your message you\ncan go, and I shall be obliged if you will send me the one thousand\npounds as soon as possible.\"\n\n\"Oh, certainly,\" cried Cane eagerly.\n\nEnistor saw why he spoke so agreeably. \"You think that by taking the one\nthousand pounds I condone the testament of Lady Staunton. Perhaps you\nare right, but I have more strings to my bow than one. I have been\ninfamously treated and I shall have my revenge.\"\n\n\"You cannot revenge yourself on your sister who is dead,\" said Cane\nrebukingly, \"and to punish Mr. Montrose, who is perfectly innocent of\nharming you, would not be the act of a Christian.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you see I am nothing so feeble-minded as a Christian.\"\n\n\"What are you then?\" Cane stared.\n\n\"A wronged man, who intends to be revenged.\"\n\n\"I shall protect my client,\" cried the lawyer vigorously.\n\n\"Naturally, your fees will be larger if you do. But don't protect him at\nthe cost of my character, or it will be the worse for your own.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid!\"\n\n\"Indeed you are! Horribly afraid. However, you needn't faint on my\ndoorstep as that would be inconvenient. Good-day: your trap is\nwaiting.\"\n\nCane got away at once, quite convinced that Enistor was not wholly in\nhis right mind. His rosy cheeks were pale as he drove away, and his\ncourage was dashed by Enistor's unscrupulous threat.\n\n\"He is dangerous,\" thought the lawyer. \"I must hold my tongue!\" and he\ndid.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nPLOTTING\n\n\nThe prophecy of Narvaez should have softened the blow to Enistor in the\nmoment of its fulfilment. But it did not, for the simple reason that he\nhad tried his best to disbelieve the Spaniard, in spite of his knowledge\nof the man's powers. Don Pablo, as the result of prying beyond the\nboundaries of the visible, possessed in active working super-senses\nlatent in the ordinary man, and so he could literally see through a\nbrick wall. Certainly his vision was not invariably clear, and at times\nthe details of his prognostications were incorrect. In the present\ninstance he had foretold that Enistor should receive his bad news by\nletter, whereas Mr. Cane had come down personally to convey the\ndisagreeable intelligence. But the actual fact that Enistor would lose\nthe money had been proved beyond all doubt, and the Squire found the one\nundeniable truth so unpleasant that he was careless about minor\nmistakes.\n\nAs soon as Cane, without bite or sup, had driven away in the direction\nof Perchton, Enistor made his way across the moors to the back-country\nwhere Narvaez had his abode. It was impossible that he could keep the\nknowledge of his bad fortune to himself, and moreover he wanted advice\nwith regard to his future actions. The Squire was clever as men go, and\nusually decided all matters for himself; but in this instance it was\nnecessary to consult a mastermind. Don Pablo was not only a shrewd and\nhighly educated man, versed in knowledge of the world, but also\npossessed super-physical information which was both dangerous and\nuseful. That is, the lore was dangerous to any who did not possess the\nspirit of love, and useful to an unscrupulous and wholly selfish man.\nBoth Enistor and his master thought only of themselves and were prepared\nto crush without remorse all that stood in their way. At the present\nmoment the unknown Montrose was an obstacle in Enistor's path and he\nwished Narvaez to assist in his removal. The Spaniard would only give\nhis services if he saw that their use would benefit himself. And as the\nSquire knew that the wily old man wished him to remain poor in order to\nretain mastery over him, it was not likely that he would help him to\ngain a fortune. Enistor therefore was not certain that he would be\naided, and more for the sake of talking himself free of care than for\nany other reason sought the cottage of the magician.\n\nAnd Don Pablo's abode was really and truly a four-roomed cottage, where\nhe lived along with a simple-minded old Cornish woman of sixty, who\nattended to his few wants. Enistor knew that Narvaez was immensely rich,\nand wondered why he should live so penuriously and humbly. But the man\nwas almost wholly devoid of desire for things which mankind covets. He\nate and drank sparingly: he cared nothing for society: his dress was\nplain but neat, and he was too much taken up with study to entertain.\nNarvaez, as his neighbour soon found out, was consumed by a passion for\npower: not that kind of power which is displayed openly by royalty or\npoliticians or merchant-princes, but the secret power which sways the\ndestinies of individuals and nations without apparent sign. For this he\nstudied day and night, and crossed constantly the boundaries between the\nworlds visible and invisible. He obtained no physical benefit from the\nexercise of such command, but the passion of hidden sovereignty\nsatisfied his soul, and that was all he cared about. He had long since\nrisen above the sphere wherein the virtues and vices of men dispute\npre-eminence, and lived above the healthy necessary turmoil of ordinary\nlife to reign in solitude as a cold, calm, intellectual and merciless\ntyrant, doing evil because it gratified Self. He disobeyed the law of\nlove which is giving, and isolated himself in a kingdom of his own,\nwhich his desire for rule had cut off from the great empire of God. His\nsole connection with men and women was to destroy their protecting will\nand make them slaves to his whims. In this way he acted with regard to\nEnistor, else he would not have taught the man anything about dark\nmagic. But Narvaez knew well that Enistor, possessed of as fierce and\nunscrupulous a nature as his own, and almost as powerful a will, would\nnever be a slave. Consequently he was obliged to act cautiously in his\nassociation with him. Enistor, if he became too learned in forbidden\nlore, might well become Don Pablo's rival, to dispute the bad\nsovereignty which the Spaniard loved. As a matter of fact Narvaez would\nnot have meddled with the Cornish squire at all but that he knew that\na common danger menaced both, which Enistor, through his daughter,\nmight avert. Narvaez was clever and powerful, and wholly given to\nself-worship, but he was by no means omnipotent, and at times it was\nnecessary to defend his position. Thus by the offer to teach Enistor how\nto realise his ambitions, he managed to make the man more or less\nobedient: but there was always the danger of revolt should Enistor learn\ntoo thoroughly the laws of the invisible world, which interpenetrates\nthe visible. Don Pablo, however, was content with the position of\naffairs, as his pupil was not yet strong enough to measure swords. And\nbefore he was, the Spaniard hoped to secure his ends and leave Enistor\nin the lurch.\n\nThe cottage was of grey stone, a clumsy rugged-looking habitation set on\nthe side of a purple-clothed hill, beside a grass-grown lane, which\nmeandered down the valley. On the slope of the hill were many disused\nmining shafts with huge mounds of earth and ruined buildings beside\nthem. The hilltops had been a Roman camp, and the boundaries could still\nbe defined. In the centre and amongst many gigantic stones was a\nsacrificial altar of the Druids, with grooves cut in its hardness so\nthat the blood of the victims might stream to the ground. Alice never\nliked this unholy hill, as she was sensitive enough to feel the\ninfluence which clung round it. But Narvaez had established his home\nbeside the miniature mountain, because on moonless nights he could\nperform uncanny ceremonies on the altar, which was given over to the\nDark Powers he worshipped and propitiated. Enistor had likewise taken\npart in these sacrilegious doings and shivered at the memory of certain\nthings, when he sighted the sinister grey monoliths which crowned the\nhill. Great as was his courage, it was not entirely proof against the\ndeadly influences of the evil beings who haunted the place, although in\na lesser degree than Narvaez he could compel them to service by\nperforming certain rites.\n\nEnistor was ushered into Don Pablo's study by the housekeeper, a\nbrown-faced cheery old woman, too simple-minded to understand her\nmaster's weird powers. The apartment was of no great size, and the\nlimited space was but sparsely furnished. There were only a table, which\nserved as a desk, two chairs, a well-filled bookcase and a ponderous\niron safe, wherein Narvaez stored what valuables he had by him. The\nwalls were draped with dull red cloth, and the floor, oddly enough, was\ncovered with a black carpet. The effect was menacing and impressive.\nWhen the visitor entered, a fire-place wherein large logs flamed faced\nhim, while opposite the one window looking out on to the hilltop was a\nclosed door leading to a sealed apartment, which Don Pablo allowed no\none to enter into save himself and his pupil. Across the passage was a\ndining-room together with a tiny kitchen and a bedroom for the\nhousekeeper at the back. The cottage itself was placed in a disorderly\nuncultivated garden surrounded by a loosely built stone wall. There was\nno upstairs, and the house being roofed with slate covered with moss\npresented a sombre appearance. In its greyness it resembled a huge toad\nsquatting amongst the heather.\n\n\"How can you bear a fire on this hot day?\" asked Enistor, throwing\nhimself into the vacant chair and speaking irritably.\n\n\"You are in that kind of humour which seeks any outlet for its relief,\"\nwas the Spaniard's irrelevant reply. \"How often have I told you that it\nis necessary for you to get complete command of your temper. I have a\nfire because this body I occupy just now is nearly worn out and requires\nartificial heat to sustain it.\"\n\n\"Why don't you get a new one?\" demanded the visitor still crossly.\n\n\"Some day I shall,\" rejoined Narvaez significantly, \"at present this one\nserves me tolerably well. I control it thoroughly: you do not manage\nyours properly: it is your master, Enistor. Ah! you have much to learn.\"\n\n\"I have reason to be cross.\"\n\n\"No one has any reason to be cross. To lose one's temper simply shows\nthat one is not yet free from ordinary human limitations. However, at\nyour stage of learning I excuse you. It is hard to lose a large income,\nas you have done.\"\n\n\"What, you know----?\"\n\n\"Not by any super-physical means, Enistor,\" said Narvaez, coolly leaning\nback in his chair. \"I walked to the top of the hill with a field-glass,\nand saw that you had a visitor. As so few people come here, it is only\nlogical on my part to assume that the man was some messenger sent to\ntell you of Lady Staunton's death and your own loss.\"\n\n\"Well, the news did not come in a letter, as you prophesied,\" snapped\nEnistor.\n\n\"I am not the Pope to be infallible,\" said Don Pablo dryly, \"and the\nmatter is so trivial that I did not examine into things sufficiently to\nbe entirely certain of details.\"\n\n\"Trivial to you: not to me!\" said the Squire gloomily.\n\n\"Nonsense! Your possession of that income is only delayed. You have not\nlost it altogether!\"\n\nEnistor looked up sharply. \"Did you make an invisible third at my\ninterview with Cane?\"\n\n\"I?\" Don Pablo shrugged his aged shoulders. \"Do you think that I have\nnothing to do but to waste my time in that way? No! I only say that you\nwill regain the money, because I shall assist you to get it. You must\nhave your price even though it is but a temporary one.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by temporary?\" asked Enistor unpleasantly.\n\n\"Any one who works for money, or earthly fame, or earthly power has to\nsurrender what he gains when death comes. But he who labours to acquire\nsuper-physical powers as I do--those powers which can dominate men\nwithout their knowing, gets what he can never lose, however many the\ndeaths or lives!\"\n\n\"I shall work for that later, Master. At present I require money so as\nto take my proper position in the world, and sway men at will.\"\n\n\"A limited ambition,\" scoffed Narvaez. \"However, what you desire you\nshall acquire, as you won't let me have your daughter without a price.\"\n\n\"Would you do something for nothing yourself, Don Pablo?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the magician honestly. \"I take what I want if I am strong\nenough to do so. Otherwise I buy what I require. Nothing for nothing and\nsomething for something--if there is no other way of getting it. That is\nmy rule.\"\n\n\"It is the rule of the majority of mankind.\"\n\n\"True, my friend,\" chuckled Narvaez, settling himself comfortably.\n\"Mankind has a long way to travel before the law of love is learned.\"\n\n\"The law of love?\"\n\n\"You give all and ask no return! Think of it: how dull life would be\nthen, Enistor! However, we have argued enough, and my time is valuable.\nWhat about your interview with this lawyer? I must have details if I am\nto assist you.\"\n\nEnistor looked at his master with a sneer. \"I should have thought that a\nman with your powers would have known everything without requiring\nexplanations.\"\n\n\"If it had been worth my while I would have made myself acquainted with\nall that took place,\" said the other man blandly; \"but your affairs do\nnot interest me save the necessity of paying your price. Well?\"\n\nThe Squire looked again at Narvaez, and this time with gloomy distaste.\nIt was often borne in upon him how entirely selfish Don Pablo was. But\nby this time he knew beyond question that those who take the Left-hand\nPath are forgetful of all save themselves. And Enistor could scarcely\nblame Narvaez for owning a quality which was almost as highly developed\nin his own nature. \"Might is Right!\" is the rule of black magic, and the\nsurvival of the fittest is the sole way to attain supremacy. Enistor had\nfully committed himself to the worship of his own being, yet there was\nsufficient good in him to struggle at times against the isolating power\nof selfishness. However it was worse than useless to argue away\naccepted facts, so he swallowed his anger and quietly detailed all that\nhad taken place.\n\n\"Hum!\" said Narvaez, smoothing his wrinkled face when the last word was\nspoken. \"You have made my task more difficult than was necessary.\"\n\n\"In what way?\" scowled the Squire, who disliked correction.\n\n\"In several ways,\" was the serene response. \"Your idea of threatening\nCane was a good one, and had you called me to your assistance I could\nhave worked along those lines. The man--from what you say--is weak, and\nmy power added to yours would have secured the destruction of the second\nwill, and the substitution of the first. Then you would have got the\nmoney without trouble. By weakening in your attack, you have simply\nturned Cane into your enemy.\"\n\n\"He won't dare to say anything, if that is what you mean.\"\n\n\"It is not what I mean, Enistor. Of course, since a lawyer, like C\u00e6sar's\nwife, should be above reproach, Cane will not speak lest you should\naccuse him of offering to suppress the second will. But that doesn't\nmuch matter. The point is that you had him at a disadvantage and did not\npress your point. A well-directed thought would have brought me to your\nhouse, and I could have compelled the man to yield.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure of that. He is honest.\"\n\n\"What does that matter?\" asked Don Pablo, opening his eyes\ncontemptuously. \"Honest or not, I should have obsessed him to such a\ndegree that he would have committed himself too far to retreat. Of\ncourse if he was guarded my control would have effected nothing. But our\nAdversary only protects Alice, and in this instance would not have\ninterfered. And yet,\" Narvaez suddenly looked round, as though aware of\nsome new influence, \"he might have prevented my exercise of power. It is\nnecessary for the money to go to Montrose so that the Chaldean Drama\nshould be played out in this set of lives.\"\n\n\"Is Montrose the other man you spoke of at dinner last night?\"\n\nDon Pablo threw up his hand to compel silence, closed his eyes to shut\nout the world of sense and listened intently. As he did so, his face\ngrew dark and angry. \"I defy you: I defy you!\" he said vehemently,\naddressing some invisible person, as it appeared to Enistor. \"Plot as\nyou will, I can counterplot!\" then he was silent for a moment, and\nopening his eyes lowered his hand. \"The Adversary,\" he said quietly to\nhis guest, but still looked fierce. \"He is aware of our schemes, and\nsays they will not succeed, if he can prevent their success. Well, I\nshall pit my strength against his.\"\n\n\"The Adversary then is not absolutely certain of success?\" asked\nEnistor.\n\n\"No. Because man has free-will. If Montrose and Alice are guided by the\nAdversary, our task will indeed be difficult. But if you and I can make\neither stumble, the game will end in our favour. As I said, Enistor,\nthis loss of money is the beginning of the drama. You can see for\nyourself, because by its going to Montrose it brings him on to the\nstage. And yet,\" added Narvaez with a furious gesture, \"had you called\nme in to deal with that lawyer, I might have suppressed the second will\nand have prevented Montrose coming into the matter. The Adversary told\nme just now that he would have intervened also, but Cane being weak and\nhaving free-will--as all men have--could not have stood out against my\ndomination.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Enistor gloomily; \"it seems that owing to my ignorance----\"\n\n\"Your folly,\" interrupted the other sharply.\n\n\"Folly if you will then. But owing to my ignorance or folly we have lost\nthe first move in the game. What now?\"\n\nNarvaez shrugged. \"We must take a roundabout way instead of going by the\ndirect path. That is closed by your not pressing your advantage with\nCane. Now Montrose will obtain the money! Very good. He can retain it\nuntil I get it back from him to give it to you.\"\n\n\"The money is rightfully mine,\" cried Enistor vehemently, \"and come what\nmay I intend to gain it!\"\n\n\"You will never gain it if you bluster and fume in that way,\" said Don\nPablo coldly; \"keep your temper and self-control, and we shall soon be\nat grips with the Adversary. He is no mean antagonist, I assure you.\"\n\n\"Well, Master, what is to be done? I leave myself in your hands!\"\n\n\"I wouldn't assist you otherwise.\" Narvaez considered for a few moments.\n\"I think it will be best to send Alice to London for a few months. The\ntime of her stay will depend upon her chances of falling in love with\nMontrose.\"\n\nEnistor jumped up and stamped. \"She doesn't know Montrose,\" he declared\nin an angry manner, \"she will never know him if I can help it.\"\n\n\"You are unable to help it,\" said Narvaez frigidly. \"The Karma of\nChaldea is bound to bring Montrose and Alice together. This much I am\nsure of, although I am ignorant of the details. Well, let us carry the\nwar into the enemy's camp, Enistor. With this thousand pounds which you\ninherit, give Alice a few months in London on the plea that she requires\na gay life to cheer her up. She will meet Montrose and he will fall in\nlove with her. I am certain of this as his fate and her fate are\nintermingled. Then you can give your consent to the marriage----\"\n\n\"What about your desire to marry Alice?\" interrupted the Squire, much\npuzzled.\n\n\"That can be gratified later,\" said Don Pablo coolly. \"Don't you see\nwhat I mean, Enistor? When Alice desires to marry Montrose, you will\nnaturally invite your proposed son-in-law here to acquaint yourself with\nhis character. Once he is on the spot\"--Narvaez smiled cruelly and drew\na deep breath--\"I think you can safely leave him to me.\"\n\n\"What will you do?\"\n\n\"Never mind. I have a plan in my head which may or may not succeed.\nThere is no need to tell you what it is. You shall see its results. Your\nwork is to send Alice to London.\"\n\n\"I don't quite understand,\" said Enistor, trying to read his master's\nthoughts, but in vain. \"But I shall obey your instructions. But if Alice\nis to meet Montrose in society I fear it will be difficult to induce her\nto go out for enjoyment so soon after her aunt's death.\"\n\n\"Oh, Montrose as the heir of Lady Staunton will feel the same way. But\nit is not necessary for the two to meet at public functions. A quiet\nevening here, a little dinner there, and the introduction is\naccomplished. You need not trouble about details, Enistor. The\naccumulated result of good and evil, which we call Karma, will bring\nthem together.\"\n\n\"You are willing to surrender Alice, I see.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear me, no! Montrose can make love to her until he is in my net.\nAfterwards, when the money comes to you and Montrose comes to the\ngallows, Alice can be my wife.\"\n\n\"The gallows. You don't mean----\"\n\n\"I mean nothing at present,\" interrupted Narvaez impatiently, \"but you\ncan't fight battles with squirts. Montrose is in your path and mine, so\nhe has to be removed. The means may be unpleasant, but they will not\nharm you in any way. I assure you of that emphatically.\"\n\n\"Will they harm Alice?\"\n\n\"Only through her affections; not otherwise. What a heap of scruples you\nhave, Enistor,\" sneered the old man; \"one would think you were a\nschool-girl instead of a grown man. You don't care for Montrose, or for\nyour daughter.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" admitted Enistor selfishly. \"All the same, murder----!\"\n\n\"Oh, if the word frightens you, call it blood-atonement. And the\nrestitution of the fortune may be managed without the sacrifice of\nMontrose's life, if you will insist upon this silly weakness. If you\nwish to tread the Left-hand Path, Enistor, you must get rid of scruples.\nTrample on every one, slay, ruin, devastate: as the stronger you have\nthe right to do so.\"\n\nThe Squire winced at this abominable teaching, although in his innermost\nheart he subscribed to it. And after all, as he thought, in the world of\nto-day the weaker is still the prey of the stronger. He was only\ncarrying out more thoroughly what every one did in a lesser degree.\nWithout further pangs he gave in to the necessity of Montrose being\nremoved by a legal death. \"But his hanging will involve the commission\nof a murder by him,\" he said suddenly.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said the other man ambiguously. \"But you had better wait and\nsee, Enistor. I can't waste time in arguing down your scruples. If you\ncan't face these things, leave the matter alone and deal with the future\ndanger yourself. But remember that only Alice can describe what that\ndanger is, and she must become my wife to be trained as a clairvoyante.\"\n\n\"You didn't want her to love Hardwick because you said the passion would\ndestroy her powers,\" said Enistor irrelevantly. \"What about her love for\nthis Montrose? Won't that do harm?\"\n\n\"Unfortunately it will,\" sighed Narvaez vexedly, \"but I can't prevent\nthe blossoming of the love. The great law of Karma is stronger than I\nam. I can only deal with the free-will of both and warp their natures if\npossible. I think you had better go now. I have much to do!\"\n\nEnistor scowled at the imperious tone and tried--as he often did--to\nmatch his will against that of Narvaez. It suddenly came to him that he\ncould find an easier way out of the difficulty and reduce Don Pablo's\npower over him by acting in the ordinary selfish way sanctioned by\ncustom. \"One moment,\" he said testily. \"Montrose has the money, it is\ntrue, and legally there is no chance of getting it from him. But if he\nbecomes my son-in-law, I shall be able to keep the income in the\nfamily.\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" assented Narvaez indifferently. \"If you want the money for\nthe family--to build up the Enistor fortunes as county people I suppose\nyou mean--your suggestion is excellent. Montrose can take your name and\nalong with his wife will be great in the land. Where you will be I leave\nyou to say.\"\n\n\"I don't want Montrose to be great in the land, and I don't suppose that\nhe has the brains to become so. But he and Alice will probably allow me\nto handle the income and----\"\n\n\"And you will use it for your own advancement. Eh?\"\n\n\"Why not? My advancement as head of the family will mean theirs.\"\n\n\"Probably, if you wish to waste time, energy and cash in building up\nyour decayed race. But Montrose may have his own ideas to carry out, and\nthose may not include consent to your possession of the family purse.\nComplete ownership of the money makes him stronger than you are.\"\n\n\"Stronger than I am? We shall see,\" and Enistor laughed at the idea.\n\n\"Very likely, when it is too late, you probably will see, and won't be\npleased with what you do see. However, it is your business, not mine. I\ncan return to Spain and learn what I wish to learn in other ways.\"\n\n\"But the teaching you are giving me?\"\n\nNarvaez sneered. \"With an obedient son-in-law possessed of five thousand\na year you will not want the teaching.\"\n\nThe Squire looked as alarmed as a self-confident man well could. He had\nscarcely counted upon this attitude being taken by his master. \"I want\nthe teaching more than I want the money,\" he confessed uneasily.\n\n\"You can have both if you will permit me to carry out my plans,\" said\nDon Pablo, acidly polite. \"Otherwise you must be satisfied to sink back\ninto the ordinary rank and file of humanity. My fee for teaching\nsuper-physical knowledge is possession of your daughter as my wife.\nTherefore your idea of securing the handling of this money by forwarding\nher marriage with Montrose does not meet with my approval. You can take\nyour choice. I--as you will be pleased to observe--do not coerce you in\nany way.\"\n\n\"You can't,\" cried the Squire with sudden fury.\n\n\"Let us leave it at that,\" rejoined the Spaniard amiably.\n\nEnistor stamped, swore under his breath and bit his nails angrily, while\nNarvaez smiled in a hatefully bland manner. Certainly the marriage of\nMontrose and Alice would bring back the money to the family; but it\nmight not--and here the egotist saw danger--put it into his own\nparticular pocket. Lady Staunton's heir might be self-willed, obstinate\nand foolish--there was no knowing what qualities he might possess likely\nto thwart his proposed father-in-law's schemes. And should he prove to\nbe recalcitrant, Enistor recognised that the marriage would only make\nmatters worse. He would gain by it neither the teaching nor the fortune,\nand would have bartered the substance for the shadow. To have the money\nwould be good: to acquire the secret lore would be better: to have both\nwould be best of all. And both he could have for certain if he agreed to\nallow Narvaez to take command. For the teaching would make him a minor\ngod, while the five thousand a year--even if he got it, which was\ndoubtful--would not even make him a millionaire.\n\n\"You remind me,\" said the tempter, smiling as hatefully as ever, \"of an\nass between two bundles of hay. With my help I repeat you can have\nboth.\"\n\n\"The money and the teaching: the teaching and the money.\" Enistor opened\nand shut his hands, drawing deep breaths and thinking profoundly.\n\n\"Exactly! On condition that I marry Alice.\"\n\n\"I agree.\" Enistor came to the decision swiftly.\n\n\"Understand! I am to have a free hand and your obedience.\"\n\nThe other man nodded, not knowing how fatal to himself was that sign of\nacquiescence. At that moment he stood at the cross-roads, free to choose\ngood or evil, and his fierce greed led him to take the Left-hand Path\ndown which this dark guide beckoned him to destruction. With a little\nchuckling laugh Narvaez received his victim's allegiance, and turned to\nhis work. Then in the same tone of voice he made exactly the same remark\nas he had made when Enistor first hesitated. \"I think you had better go\nnow; I have much to do.\"\n\nEnistor thus abruptly dismissed returned home pondering deeply on the\nway. By this time he was sufficiently infected with the cynicism of\nNarvaez to accept the situation, and to do what was necessary to turn\nAlice into a decoy for Montrose. Whether the bird would be lured into\nDon Pablo's nest he could not be sure, as Cane might warn his client of\ndanger. Enistor now saw how very foolish he had been to make the man his\nenemy. But he comforted himself with the idea that the little lawyer\nwould not dare to speak in the face of a possible accusation of having\noffered to suppress the second will. Also, even if he did speak,\nMontrose being in love would never listen to him. On the whole\ntherefore, Enistor felt confident on reflection that the fortunate young\nman would appear at Tremore. Then he could be left to the malignant\ndevices of Don Pablo Narvaez.\n\nThat evening at dinner Enistor abruptly announced the death of his\nsister, the loss of the money, and the good fortune of Mr. Douglas\nMontrose. He listened quietly to Alice's regrets, then informed her that\nshe could go to London for a month in a very short space of time. The\ngirl demurred.\n\n\"I can't go out into society when Aunt Lucy is dead,\" she said.\n\n\"There's no need for you to go into society,\" said her father, who\nanticipated the objection. \"You can stay quietly in town and enjoy\nyourself in a small way. This place is rather dull for so young a girl\nas you are. The question is who can chaperon you, seeing that your Aunt\nLucy is dead.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Barrast can, father,\" said Alice eagerly and much flushed, for the\nprospect of escaping from that gloomy house was delightful.\n\n\"Who is she?\"\n\n\"Julian's--I mean Mr. Hardwick's sister. I met her at Perchton last\nChristmas, and so did you.\"\n\n\"Oh, I remember; that frivolous little fool of a woman with no more\nbrains than a sparrow. Yes! you can go to her, if she will have you.\"\n\n\"She will be very glad,\" said Alice eagerly. \"She is fond of me.\"\n\n\"Very good.\" Enistor rose deliberately. \"Then that is settled!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE MEETING\n\n\nHaving settled that Alice should go to London in that singularly short\nand abrupt conversation, Enistor refused to discuss the matter further.\nHe ran up to town himself within the next four days, not so much to\nappear at his sister's funeral, which he duly attended, as to get the\npromised thousand pounds. He did not meet Montrose, since he purposely\nkept out of the young man's way, in spite of Cane's suggestion that\nthere should be a meeting. Enistor, instructed by his master, decided\nthat it would be best to let Montrose fall in love with Alice, and\napproach him in the character of a proposed son-in-law. Of course the\nSquire had no doubt but what the affections of the young people would be\nengaged as Narvaez predicted. The fulfilment of the prophecy concerning\nthe loss of the money had considerably strengthened his faith in the\nSpaniard's powers.\n\nWith Cane the Squire got on much better, as he was anxious to\nobliterate, for obvious reasons, the bad impression he had made on the\nlittle man. Enistor pretended that he had only acted as he had done to\nsee if Cane was honest, and professed himself quite willing to be\ncontent with his scanty inheritance. Whether the solicitor believed him\nor not it was impossible to say, but he feigned a belief and behaved\nwith extraordinary civility to Enistor. Cane even went so far as to pay\nthe thousand pounds out of his private account, so that the Squire\nshould not have to wait for the winding up of Lady Staunton's estate. By\nthe acceptance of this money, it was tacitly understood that Enistor\nwould not contest the will, and Cane drew a long breath of relief when\nthe receipt was given. There certainly was no chance that the second\nwill could be upset, but the lawyer did not wish for any public action\nto be taken, lest mention should be made of the visit to Tremore. For\neven though that visit had been authorised by the dead woman, the vague\nthreat of the Squire might come out in open court. Cane was quite\ninnocent of wishing to destroy the will, and could deny the possible\nassertion on oath. But he knew well that however guiltless a man may be,\nthere are always those who quote the \"No smoke without fire\" proverb.\nTherefore Cane was sincerely glad to have the matter settled without\ndispute, and for that very reason had given Enistor a cheque on his\nprivate account. When the Squire departed, the little man felt that all\ndanger was at an end.\n\nEnistor arrived back at Polwellin in very good spirits, as for many a\nlong year he had not handled so large a sum of money. Being of a\nluxurious nature he bought many unnecessary things, and spent on himself\na considerable sum which could have been used for better purposes.\nHowever, on the sprat-to-catch-a-mackerel theory, he set aside a certain\nample amount for Alice's season in London. Acting the part of a fond\nfather, he told her that she was to spare no expense, but to have all\nshe wanted in the matter of clothes and jewellery and enjoyment. The\ngirl was secretly amazed at this sudden kindness on the part of her\nusually neglectful parent, but being young, and being a woman, she\ngladly took advantage of the opportunity to purchase pretty things. In\nthe selection of frocks and hats and feminine frippery she had the\nbenefit of Mrs. Barrast's taste, and the little woman congratulated her\non having so lavish a father.\n\n\"You will like Amy when you know her better,\" Hardwick had said to\nAlice, when the subject of chaperonage was broached; \"but you will soon\ngrow tired of her. Her sole idea in life is chiffons. She will be\ndelighted to introduce you into her particular set of frivolous\nkill-time wastrels, but with your nature, Alice, you will never meet a\nman at her house likely to appeal to you as a husband!\"\n\nThis was perfectly true, as in spite of her youth Miss Enistor was a\nthoughtful girl, who wanted more food for her mind than an endless round\nof bridge-parties and whist-drives and Cinderella dances and theatre\nvisits, coupled with airy gossip about this person and that. Mrs.\nBarrast was only too pleased to chaperon a tolerably pretty girl of good\nfamily who was possessed of plenty of money, and she did her best to\ngive her guest an amusing time. But what Julian prophesied soon came to\npass. Alice grew weary of the dainty little woman's frivolity and\nshallow nature. It was like an industrious bee living with a butterfly.\n\n\"You are a darling,\" said Mrs. Barrast when Alice had been a week in the\ncharming house in Hans Crescent; \"quite the nicest thing I ever met.\nAnd your good looks don't clash with mine. That is so satisfactory,\nisn't it?\"\n\n\"I am not good-looking,\" said Alice soberly.\n\n\"Of course not. Good-looking is a word which one applies to a man. But\nyou are lovely in a moonlight, misty kind of vapoury way,\" babbled the\nother. \"I think you look charming in that mourning, and Madame Coralie\nhas such good taste. I wish you would marry Julian, dear: you are just\nthe sort of romantic head-in-the-clouds darling he loves.\"\n\n\"Julian would not suit me, nor would I suit Julian,\" said Miss Enistor\ndecidedly. \"We have arranged to be brother and sister.\"\n\nMrs. Barrast sighed. \"Such a dull relationship. Frederick and I live\ntogether something in the same way. Of course he's my husband and I'm\nhis wife, although I don't know why I ever married him. But he goes his\nown way to Blue Books and politics and vestry-meetings and those\nhorridly dull things, while I go mine, seeking for a heart that will\nunderstand me.\"\n\n\"That is a dangerous quest, Mrs. Barrast,\" said Alice seriously.\n\nMrs. Barrast pounced on her guest with many kisses. \"You chilly darling,\nwhy don't you call me Amy, as I have asked you to again and again!\"\n\n\"Well then, Amy, you should not let all these young men make love to\nyou.\"\n\n\"But they will, my dear. There is something about me which draws them in\nspite of themselves, poor dears. And after all I don't mean anything\nwrong, you know, Alice. Platonic friendships are my delight.\"\n\n\"That is a dangerous word between a married woman and an unmarried man.\"\n\n\"Dangerous quest: dangerous word. My dear, you talk as if you were one\nhundred and forty years of age,\" cried Mrs. Barrast petulantly.\n\n\"I have lived much alone and have thought deeply, Amy.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear, you shouldn't think. It always wrinkles one dreadfully to\nthink, you know. Frederick thinks and just look at him. One would take\nhim to be my grandfather.\"\n\n\"I like Mr. Barrast very much,\" said Alice quietly, and she did, for the\nmaster of the house was the only person to whom she could talk sensibly.\n\n\"Run away with him then. No,\" Mrs. Barrast reflected, \"don't do that.\nAfter all Frederick is rich and my husband, though I don't know why I\nmarried him.\"\n\n\"Would you have married him had he been poor?\"\n\nMrs. Barrast screamed in a pretty playful way. \"Of course not, darling.\nWhat odd things you say. All Frederick's attraction lies in his money\nand his brains. He is clever, you know, and is too much taken up with\npolitics to look at any other woman, which is so satisfactory. I was so\npoor when I met him that I was glad to marry him. And I'm sure I make\nhim a very good wife, Alice,\" ended Mrs. Barrast in an injured tone, \"so\nyou needn't raise your eyebrows in that nasty sort of way.\"\n\n\"I only meant----\"\n\n\"I know what you mean. It's sure to be something to do with Dr. Watts's\nhymns, as you are that sort of girl. I wish you weren't so particular\nabout mourning, dear, as then I could take you to heaps and heaps of\nplaces where one can have a really good time. We'll go to Hurlingham\nthis afternoon. Now you can't refuse. I've set my heart on your going to\nHurlingham.\"\n\nIt was little use Alice refusing, as Mrs. Barrast was one of those\ndesperately persistent people who always get their own way. Miss\nEnistor, who had been fond of her Aunt Lucy, really wished to go out as\nlittle as possible, and but that she was anxious to escape from gloomy\nTremore and the attentions of Don Pablo, would never have come to live\nwith the butterfly. However, her hostess was so kind, and Alice was so\nyoung, and the contrast between London life and Cornish life was so\ngreat, that she really did enjoy herself immensely. Besides there was\nalways Frederick to talk to, a tall grave man with iron-grey hair, who\ntreated his pretty young wife in a most indulgent manner, and was as\namused with her shallow frivolity as Richelieu must have been with the\npranks of his kittens. There was really no harm in the dainty little\nwoman and, in spite of her platonic philanderings, she never gave\nFrederick any serious cause for rebuke. One cannot be angry with a\nmorsel of thistledown, and that is the best description of Mrs. Barrast.\nAlways charmingly dressed and delightfully vivacious, she floated from\nhouse to house in a frolicsome fairy kind of way. Dullness fled when\nMrs. Barrast entered a room.\n\nIt was strange that so airy and nimble-witted a woman should be the\nsister of a stolid giant like Julian, with his serious views of art and\nlife. But he was very fond of Amy Barrast, although she flouted his\nadvice and told him frequently that he was as dull as tombs, a witticism\nshe had picked up from an American admirer. Hardwick came several times\nto London while Alice stayed in Hans Crescent, but always returned to\nhis beloved west country, as the frivolity of his sister's circle was\naltogether too much for him. By this time he had accepted the r\u00f4le of\nMiss Enistor's brother, and the two were most confidential.\n\n\"Are you tired of all this, Alice?\" asked Julian, after a particularly\nfrivolous luncheon. \"This rubbish must bore one of your thoughtful\ndisposition.\"\n\nAlice, who was looking unusually charming, laughed gaily. \"I have left\nmy thoughtful disposition at Tremore,\" she said in a light tone. \"While\nI am in Rome I must do as the Romans do.\"\n\n\"Do?\" said Hardwick; \"they don't do anything!\"\n\n\"But they do, Julian. They work harder than any labourer to kill time. I\ndo not think that I should like to lead this life always, but it is a\nchange from the dullness of Polwellin, you know. The month I have been\nhere has improved my health and spirits. I am sure that I thought too\nmuch.\"\n\n\"Possibly! All work and no play is as bad as all play and no work. When\ndo you return?\"\n\n\"I have no settled time to return. Father says that I can stay as long\nas I like. Though of course I don't want to outstay my welcome.\"\n\n\"You won't, Alice. Never think that. Amy likes to have you here, and\nFrederick says that you are the most sensible girl he ever met. You\nshould go with Amy to Cowes later on.\"\n\nAlice shook her head. \"I am not sure. I must go back some time or\nanother, as father won't let me remain away for ever. Besides I really\nthink that I shall grow weary of pleasure. Blue skies and constant\nsunshine bore one.\"\n\n\"Yes, I quite understand. But remember when you come back you will again\nbe exposed to the attentions of that old mummy.\"\n\nAlice shuddered. \"Don Pablo? Is he as often at Tremore as ever?\"\n\n\"More often. And when he isn't at Tremore, your father goes to his\ncottage on the moors. I can't understand why your father likes him so\nmuch. There seems to be something evil about Narvaez.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Alice laid a trembling hand on his arm; \"have you felt that also?\"\n\n\"Yes. I'm not a sensitive chap as a rule, but Narvaez makes me\nuncomfortable--just like Mr. Hyde in Stevenson's story, you know.\nWhatever you do, don't consent to be his wife, Alice.\"\n\n\"I certainly shall not, whatever my father may say. At the worst I can\nalways marry you.\"\n\n\"That isn't a compliment,\" murmured Hardwick, mortified.\n\n\"Well, you know what I mean. I respect you and like you, even if I don't\nlove you, Julian. And if I did marry you I should never give you cause\nto complain of coldness on my part.\"\n\n\"Oh, Alice\"--his face lighted up.\n\n\"No! No! No! The compact still stands. Until I am driven into a corner\nwe are only brother and sister.\"\n\n\"Of course. It's an odd arrangement.\"\n\n\"Well, I admit that, and only a really kind-hearted, sensible man such\nas you are would understand and keep to such an arrangement. Sometimes I\nthink I am doing wrong in holding you to our compact, but on reflection\nI don't think that I am doing wrong. If you loved me as a man should\nlove a woman, it would be different and then I should be playing with\nfire. But you don't.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Julian honestly, \"you are quite right. I like you: I have a\ndeep affection for you, and at all costs would protect your happiness.\nBut I am quite sure now that I don't love you in the way you would like\nto be loved.\"\n\nAlice drew a deep breath of relief. \"How nice to hear you talk so\nreasonably, Julian. We quite understand one another, don't we?\"\n\n\"Quite,\" he hesitated, and then spoke softly. \"Have you seen any one\nwho----\"\n\n\"Of course I haven't,\" interrupted the girl hastily; \"you said that I\nshould meet with no one to suit me here. Not that I am looking out for a\nhusband, you know, Julian!\"\n\n\"I do know. All the same you are sure to come across Prince Charming\nsome day, and then I shall surrender my guardianship to him. You are\ncertain to choose some nice fellow, who won't mind our continuing our\nbrother and sister arrangement when you are Mrs. Somebody.\"\n\n\"H'm!\" said the girl dubiously; \"if Mr. Somebody loves me, he may object\nto a triangle of that sort. Besides, you may marry yourself, Julian.\"\n\n\"I may,\" said Hardwick in his stolid way, \"but at present I am at your\nservice as a stop-gap husband if Don Pablo and your father drive you\ninto a corner, Alice.\"\n\n\"How dreadfully immoral a stop-gap husband sounds!\" laughed Miss\nEnistor, but appreciated the offer all the same. It was impossible to\ncombat alone two strong natures like those of her father and Narvaez;\ntherefore to have Hardwick on her side was a great gain. Nothing would\never induce her to marry Don Pablo. Alice was certain of that.\n\nBut as speedy events proved it was not necessary for Julian to hold\nhimself at Miss Enistor's disposal in this loyal way. Six weeks after\nAlice was in London, circumstances brought about the meeting with\nMontrose. The girl knew that this young man had inherited her aunt's\nmoney, but as Enistor, when informing her of the fact, had said nothing\nvery bitter, she had no grudge against the fortunate legatee. Certainly\nshe regretted the loss for her father's sake, but decided with\ninstinctive fairness that Lady Staunton had a right to do what she would\nwith her own. Alice had seen but little of her aunt in past years,\nalthough the old lady had sometimes invited her to pay a visit.\nConsequently she had heard nothing of Montrose, and wondered what he was\nlike. When Mrs. Barrast mentioned the name, Alice was curious to see the\nyoung man. And there was every chance that she would, as it appeared\nthat Mrs. Barrast's doctor wished to bring him to dinner.\n\n\"And Dr. Eberstein is such a delightful man that any friend of his is\ncertain to be a darling,\" babbled the little woman. \"You haven't met my\ndoctor, have you, dear. He attends me for nerves! I am a great sufferer\nfrom nerves, and I'm sure if those Christian martyrs they make such a\nfuss over suffered as much as I do, I quite understand them being\npraised. But I am sure they never did.\"\n\n\"Have you ever met Mr. Montrose?\" asked Alice anxiously, for she wanted\nto have a sketch of the young man beforehand.\n\n\"No, my dear. Dr. Eberstein says he is very handsome and very nice, and\nhas a lot of money!\"\n\n\"That is quite true, Amy. Mr. Montrose inherited my aunt's money.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear, what a disagreeable thing for you. I shall write to Dr.\nEberstein and say that I can't ask him and his friend to dinner.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" asked Alice bluntly.\n\n\"Well, you don't want to meet a man who has robbed you of----\"\n\n\"He has not robbed me.\"\n\n\"Your father, I mean, Alice.\"\n\n\"Nor my father, Amy. Lady Staunton had a perfect right to do what she\nliked with her money. My father is not at all annoyed, nor am I.\"\n\n\"What a perfect, Christian feeling!\" exclaimed Mrs. Barrast; \"and how\nodd that you shouldn't be angry! How much money have you lost?\"\n\n\"None at all,\" said Miss Enistor rather impatiently; \"but my aunt left\nMr. Montrose five thousand a year.\"\n\n\"Oh, how dreadful! My dear, if I were in your shoes I should scratch his\neyes out. Of course your father is rich----\"\n\n\"My father is very poor. I only had this season in town because my aunt\ndid leave him a little money.\"\n\n\"Your father is poor! That makes his conduct and yours the odder, if\nthere is such a word. I think it's very unjust, a sister not leaving her\nmoney to a brother and keeping it in the family. My dear,\" added Mrs.\nBarrast impressively, \"this wrong must be put right. You shall marry\nthis young man, if he is nice and agreeable. Then the money will come\nback to you.\"\n\n\"Don't make such plans, Amy. I don't want to marry any one.\"\n\n\"My dear, that's quite immoral.\"\n\n\"Oh, nonsense! If you begin to be a match-maker I shall refuse to meet\nMr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"Then you don't want me to ask him to dinner?\"\n\n\"Ask him if you like: only don't expect me to fall into his arms.\"\n\n\"As if I expected you to do anything so silly,\" said Mrs. Barrast, and\nwithdrew to pen her invitation to the doctor and his friend. By this\ntime, in her own mind, she was quite determined to arrange a match\nbetween Montrose and Alice, being one of those busybodies who will\nmeddle with what does not concern them in the least. But Mrs. Barrast\ndid not look at her proposed scheming in this light. She thought she was\nbehaving very kindly to Alice.\n\nThe girl herself was really anxious to meet Montrose now that there was\na chance of doing so. Never having felt the want of money, she had not\ngiven much thought to the loss of the inheritance, and did not know how\nvexed her father was to see Montrose get the income. Enistor had\nparticularly refrained from expressing his vexation, since he did not\nwish Alice to be biased against the fortunate youth. Therefore Alice was\nquite prepared to be just towards Montrose, and to like him, if his\npersonality appealed to her. A very unsophisticated maiden was Miss\nEnistor. In a similar position Mrs. Barrast would have schemed to\nrecover the lost fortune by marriage, if the man had been as ugly as a\nCyclops, and indeed, as can be seen, really did intend to right things\nin this way. But Alice was quite content to let Montrose remain a\nbachelor and enjoy the money after his own fashion.\n\nMr. Barrast had to attend to his political duties on the evening\nappointed for the dinner, which was perhaps the reason why his frivolous\nwife selected that special evening. Frederick was a kill-joy, she said,\nand moreover she did not wish to ask an extra woman to dinner. Mr.\nMontrose could attend to Alice and she, as the hostess, could attend to\nDr. Eberstein. They would enjoy a pleasant meal, and afterwards could\nchat and have music in the drawing-room. Also Dr. Eberstein might be\ninduced to tell their fortune, or prophesy events, or do wonderful\nthings which, according to Mrs. Barrast, he was capable of doing when\nwilling. As a matter of fact, Eberstein had the reputation of being a\npsychic doctor, and of knowing more about the unseen than most people.\nBut in spite of Mrs. Barrast's babbling, he never by any chance\nperformed the wonders which she spoke about. All the same, with the\npertinacity of her nature Mrs. Barrast intended to ask him to give an\nexhibition of his powers, and as Frederick did not approve of such\nthings, this was another reason why she chose an evening when he would\nbe engaged. \"Frederick is quite a heathen, you know, dear,\" said Mrs.\nBarrast, when the two ladies were in the drawing-room waiting for the\ntwo guests, \"he says that to help poor people is better than being\nreligious.\"\n\n\"To help the poor _is_ to be religious,\" said Alice quietly.\n\nMrs. Barrast made a grimace and looked in a near mirror to see that her\nhair was in good order. \"Oh, I know you are that sort of person also,\ndear. Julian tells me that you are hand in glove with your vicar.\"\n\n\"The vicar of Polwellin is a good man, Amy.\"\n\n\"How dull! I never did like good people, who are fond of the ragged poor\nand starving children and all that slum sort of thing. Though I'm sure I\nhave helped dozens of times in bazaars and charity dances to get money\nfor them. And I really needed the money more than they did,\" concluded\nMrs. Barrast plaintively.\n\nShe flitted round the drawing-room in her usual restless manner,\narranging the flowers, rearranging the many useless objects of luxury,\nand generally passing the time in meddling, chattering continuously. The\ndrawing-room was suggestive of her brainless nature, as it was filled\nwith costly things of no possible use; frivolous rubbish that had taken\nher fancy for the moment and then had been more or less forgotten. There\nwas ample space, plenty of light and colour, and all the appliances of\ncivilisation for an easy, luxurious existence. But repose was lacking,\nas the hostess had communicated to the room some of her abnormal\nrestlessness. Mrs. Barrast was always screwed up to concert pitch and\nnever gave herself, or any one in her vicinity, a single moment of\npeace. This incessant desire to say something or to do something,\nhowever silly, was gradually forcing Alice to consider seriously the\nnecessity of cutting short her visit. There was an excess of oxygen in\nthe atmosphere of Mrs. Barrast that disturbed the girl's serene nature.\n\n\"Oh, here they are at last,\" cried the hostess with another glance into\nthe mirror, as her quick ear caught a sound outside the door. \"I am so\nglad, as I am so hungry. Then you see, dear--oh, Dr. Eberstein, how are\nyou? So very glad to see you. And Mr. Montrose! It _is_ Mr. Montrose,\nisn't it? How do you do? So pleased to meet you. Dr. Eberstein, this is\nMiss Enistor, who is staying with me for a few weeks. Mr. Montrose, Miss\nEnistor. And now we can go to dinner. I am sure you are both dying for\nfood!\"\n\nThe doctor bowed gravely to Alice and remained somewhat in the\nbackground talking, or rather listening, to the voluble Mrs. Barrast. It\nseemed as if he had stepped back to be a spectator of the meeting\nbetween the younger people, for Alice felt, rather than saw, that his\neyes were upon her. But she was too much taken up with Montrose to\nconsider this for a moment. The young man advanced silently, a tall slim\nfigure, graceful and virile. His dark eyes were fixed on Alice in a\npuzzled sort of way, as if something about her perplexed him greatly. On\nher part, the girl rose from the chair to meet his gaze more directly\nthan was consistent with the first introduction of a youth and a\nmaiden. She did not know why he appeared to be familiar to her. It was\nnot his looks, for these were new to her. But in his eyes there was\nsomething which hinted that he was less a stranger than a very dear\nfriend. Of course, what knowledge of reincarnation she had gained from\nher father told her that the body was nothing and the soul was\neverything. Certainly she had never seen Montrose before in the flesh,\nbut through his eyes there looked a soul which she knew. All this\nflashed through her troubled mind in a second and the blood crimsoned\nher face as she impulsively held out her hand.\n\nWith a soft quick indrawn breath the young man took it. He was evidently\nas perplexed as she was. Only by an effort did he release the girl's\nslim hand and find his voice.\n\n\"I am glad to meet you, Miss Enistor!\"\n\nHis voice broke the spell, and Alice became aware--at least she thought\nas much--that she had been acting foolishly. Of course he would be\nconfused to meet the niece of the lady whose money he had inherited.\nThat was the reason of his odd look and strange silence. But she would\nput him at his ease at once, since there was nothing to be gained by\nbeing stiff with a perfectly innocent person. And then--here came in the\nmomentary memory again--she liked him at sight more than any one she had\never seen. She repeated his words.\n\n\"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Montrose!\" and then the two smiled at one\nanother in a somewhat embarrassed way.\n\n\"There's the gong,\" cried Mrs. Barrast gaily, \"your arm, doctor. We\nshall have a pleasant dinner and a delightful evening!\"\n\n\"I am sure of that, Mrs. Barrast,\" said the other positively. \"The\nevening has commenced most auspiciously.\"\n\nAlice asked herself what he meant and laid her hand on Montrose's arm.\nShe did not get an answer to her mental question until much later.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nA CONVERSATION\n\n\nDinner was served, not in the large dining-room, used on high days and\nfestivals, but in a small octagonal apartment, reserved for such minor\noccasions. Its walls were of polished white wood, gaily painted with\nwreaths of flowers bound with knots of blue ribbon and held by\nnaked cupids, dimpled and rosy. There was a blue-tiled fire-place\nin which stood a brass cradle for the flaming coals, though at\npresent, the weather being warm, this was filled with ferns and\nbulrushes. The ceiling was painted with sunset clouds, the carpet was\nmoss-green sprinkled with bunches of daisies, and the furniture was of\ncream-coloured wood. In the centre stood a round table of no great size,\nat which the hostess and her guests took their seats. Two smart\nparlour-maids attended to their wants, as Mrs. Barrast preferred to\ndispense with footmen and butler, save when she gave a state dinner to\npeople she did not care about.\n\n\"Frederick's friends, you know,\" she explained airily, when unfolding\nher napkin. \"The people who like things-as-they-ought-to-be. I think\nthings-as-they-ought-not-to-be are more amusing myself. More of a\nsurprise, you know.\"\n\n\"If you pushed that theory to extremes, Mrs. Barrast,\" said Dr.\nEberstein in a dry way, \"you would find the world excessively\ndisagreeable.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know, doctor. People in society all say the same things\nand do the same things and think the same things. I adore originality\nmyself.\"\n\n\"If originality made you uncomfortable you would change your mind.\"\n\n\"I daresay. But that would be no novelty. I am always changing my mind!\"\n\n\"Consequently your nervous system gets out of order and you have to come\nto me to have it set right.\"\n\n\"If I and others did not come to you where would your practice be?\"\nasked Mrs. Barrast, accepting fish from the parlour-maid. \"If one didn't\nchange one's mind the world would stand still.\"\n\nDr. Eberstein laughed. \"That is a deeper remark than you guess, Mrs.\nBarrast,\" he said quietly. \"But there is one change of mind and another\nchange of mind.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the frivolous little woman opened her eyes widely, \"if\nthere were not another change of mind there would be no change at all.\"\n\n\"True, O Queen! You speak wiser than you know.\"\n\n\"Tell Frederick that, doctor. He says I have no ideas, and what I have\naren't ideas at all. No! I don't mean that! But he says--well, I don't\nknow exactly what Frederick says. Nobody ever does, especially when he\ngets up to make a speech in the House. But he's a dear fellow all the\nsame, and do try that hock, doctor. It is particularly good!\"\n\nEberstein smiled and refused, as he drank nothing but water. He looked\non Mrs. Barrast as an irresponsible delightful child, who had everything\nto learn, yet who could not be taught, as it was impossible for her to\nconcentrate her attention for one whole minute. A butterfly herself, she\nchased other butterflies and danced along a sunny path careless of\nwhither she was going. The doctor knew that in the nature of things she\nwould have to learn what life meant some day: but did not tell her so.\nMrs. Barrast would not have understood him if he had.\n\nWhile eating and listening to the remarks of Montrose, the youngest\nmember of the party stole frequent looks at Eberstein. He was not very\ntall, rather stout, some years over fifty, and had a healthy\nclean-shaven face. Alice by no means considered him handsome, but when\nhe smiled there was a kind and helpful look in his grey eyes which drew\nher to him. She felt that he was cool, wise, tolerant, and anxious to\naid his fellow mortals. Mr. Montrose--so ran her thoughts--was very\nfortunate to have such a friend. In the hour of need Eberstein would\nprove staunch. Alice was positive of this although she had no experience\nof the man's nature. But added to the ordinary feminine intuition she\npossessed a subtle clairvoyant instinct, undeveloped though it was, and\nwithout any positive proof she would have staked her existence on\nEberstein's being a really good and helpful man. One in a thousand.\n\nBut as a woman her feelings inclined to Montrose, since he was extremely\nhandsome and likewise fascinating. The unusual combination of auburn\nhair and dark eyes was striking, and his clearly cut features of the\nGreek type impressed her with a sense of belonging to a thoroughbred\nstock. His shapely body, his slim hands and feet, his lithe active\nstrength, suggested a racehorse perfection. A well-formed head showed\nthat he had brains, and a resolute chin revealed courage and decision.\nAltogether Miss Enistor was favourably impressed with the looks of the\nyoung man who had inherited Lady Staunton's money, and thought that he\nwould make good use of it. As to her other feeling, of his soul being\nfamiliar to her, she had not yet reasoned that out in a way to satisfy\nherself. At present all she knew was that she and Montrose seemed to be\nold acquaintances, and they chatted as if they were friends of many\nyears' standing. Mrs. Barrast remarked this.\n\n\"You two get on very well together,\" she said shrewdly, when the dessert\nwas placed on the table, and Eberstein smiled when she made the remark.\n\n\"We seem to suit one another,\" was Montrose's reply: then added, to\navert personal remarks on the part of Mrs. Barrast: \"I wonder how it is\nthat one is repelled by some people and drawn to others at first sight.\"\n\n\"Ask Miss Enistor for the explanation,\" said Eberstein quietly.\n\nAlice was startled by the directness of his speech. \"How do you know\nthat I can explain, doctor?\"\n\n\"Oh, Dr. Eberstein knows all manner of things other people don't know,\"\nchimed in the hostess. \"I am quite afraid of him sometimes. He is as\nwise as the sea and as deep!\"\n\n\"And as useful, I hope,\" said the doctor, smiling genially. \"However,\nMontrose has not yet asked Miss Enistor for a reply to his question.\"\n\nThe young man laughed and looked at the flower-like face of his\nneighbour with great admiration. \"How is it some people repel while\nothers attract?\"\n\n\"The doctrine of reincarnation explains,\" replied the girl, forced to\nanswer plainly while the doctor's calm, grey eyes were on her. \"Those\npeople who repel have done one an injury in some previous life: those\nwho attract have done good, or at least have been friendly.\"\n\n\"Likewise in other lives?\" questioned the doctor.\n\n\"Of course. Although I do not know if you believe in reincarnation?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Mrs. Barrast uttered a little shriek and dabbled her fingers in\nthe bowl of rose-water at her elbow. \"He believes in all manner of\ndreadful things, my dear. How he can do so I cannot understand, when he\nis so clever. I think reincarnation is rubbish myself.\"\n\n\"Oh, no! no!\" protested Montrose.\n\n\"What! You believe in our having lived before also? Really it is very\nodd and queer of you. Alice too. My dear, where did you learn such awful\nnonsense?\"\n\n\"From my father,\" said Miss Enistor dryly; \"and if you met him, Amy, you\nwould not think he was the man to teach nonsense!\"\n\n\"Then he's got a bee in his bonnet.\"\n\n\"He doesn't wear a bonnet.\"\n\n\"Oh, Alice, you know perfectly well what I mean. He's crazy!\"\n\nMiss Enistor laughed. \"I think my father is the sanest person I have\never met, Amy. Why shouldn't reincarnation be a great truth?\"\n\n\"It isn't in the Bible,\" said Mrs. Barrast pettishly, for the\nconversation being beyond her was somewhat boring to her small\nintellect. \"And what isn't in the Bible is wrong.\"\n\n\"You are of the Caliph Omar's opinion with regard to the Koran when he\nordered the library of Alexandria to be burnt,\" observed Eberstein; \"but\nif you will read St. Matthew, verse 14, chapter xi, you will find that\nreincarnation is plainly acknowledged. Also in St. John's Gospel,\nchapter ix, verses 2 and 3, it is plainly hinted at. Origen, the most\nlearned of the Christian Fathers, believed in the law of rebirth\nand----\"\n\n\"Oh, it's all nonsense,\" interrupted Mrs. Barrast, weary of the\nexplanation.\n\n\"So be it,\" admitted the doctor quietly, \"it is all nonsense. _Your_\nbrain is the measure of the universe.\"\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Frederick says that I haven't any\nbrain to speak of: as if I could live if I haven't,\" said Mrs. Barrast\nincoherently. \"Let us have coffee here while you gentlemen smoke. Oh, I\nforgot: you don't smoke, doctor. Mr. Montrose?\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" and the young man accepted a cigarette from Mrs. Barrast's\nown particular case. \"You smoke yourself, I see.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Mrs. Barrast lighted her little roll of tobacco. \"It soothes\nme. I am all nerves, you know. Alice, will you----?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I am not all nerves!\"\n\n\"I'm sure I wonder you aren't, living in Cornwall with sea-gulls and\nmoors and those sort of things. You will like this coffee, Dr.\nEberstein. There is a vanilla bean in each cup, which makes it so nice.\"\n\n\"Very good coffee,\" said the other, sipping gravely, and wondering if\nMrs. Barrast was aware of the rubbish she talked.\n\nThe little woman apparently was not, as she conversed volubly, darting\nfrom this subject to that after the manner of a swallow. She mentioned\nseveral novels which had attracted her frivolous attention, talked of\nsome musical comedies she had seen, criticised the fashions, told one or\ntwo tales dealing with scandals concerning various people, and in every\nway monopolised the conversation, until it was time to return to the\ndrawing-room. Alice, who wished to converse with Montrose, was pleased\nwhen this move was made, as it appeared to be the only chance of ending\nMrs. Barrast's airy nothings. For a few moments she was alone with her\nhostess and seized the chance of asking if Dr. Eberstein was a German.\n\n\"I suppose he is,\" said Mrs. Barrast gravely, \"his name sounds like it.\nBut I can't say what he is. He talks all languages as well as he talks\nEnglish, and never says anything about his father and mother. But he's\nvery nice, isn't he, Alice? A kind of soul-doctor, you know, who tells\nhis patients that mind is stronger than matter. Not exactly Christian\nScience, but something like it. He has never come to dinner before. I'm\nsure I don't know why, as I have asked him dozens of times.\"\n\nAlice thought that she knew the reason, which had to do with Mrs.\nBarrast's frothy chatter, but was too polite to put her idea into words.\n\"What do you think of Mr. Montrose?\" she asked, anxious for a second\nopinion.\n\n\"Good-looking but stupid,\" was Mrs. Barrast's verdict; \"not a second\nidea in his head. However, he has money--your money, dear, so you ought\nto marry him.\"\n\n\"He has not got my money,\" said Miss Enistor tartly, \"and even if he\nhad I certainly should not marry him for his wealth.\"\n\n\"I daresay: you are such a funny girl. Not at all like a human being.\nIt's silly not to eat a pear that has fallen into your mouth.\"\n\n\"Mr. Montrose being the pear?\"\n\n\"Of course. He is head over ears in love with you already. I'm not his\nstyle evidently. Not that I care,\" ended Mrs. Barrast, caring very much\nindeed. \"Go in and win, Alice, and let me design the bridesmaids'\ndresses. Pink silk and white----\"\n\nMrs. Barrast's chatter about chiffons was put a stop to by the entrance\nof the gentlemen. As if it had been arranged, Dr. Eberstein walked over\nto Mrs. Barrast and engaged her in conversation. Montrose hesitated,\nthen came to the corner wherein Alice was seated. He looked extremely\nhandsome and attractive; she was more than ever taken with his\nappearance. Smiling amiably, she made room for him to sit down beside\nher on the ottoman, but waited for him to begin the conversation. He did\nso with an abruptness which startled her.\n\n\"I hope you are not my enemy,\" said the young man earnestly.\n\nAlice raised her eyebrows. \"Why should I be?\"\n\n\"Well, you see Lady Staunton left me her money!\"\n\n\"Why not, Mr. Montrose? It was her own money!\"\n\n\"Yes. But do you think it was right that she should leave it away from\nher relations?\"\n\n\"If she wished to. Why not?\"\n\n\"You don't regret the loss?\" He looked at her very directly.\n\n\"Not at all. I have never given the matter any consideration.\"\n\n\"And your father?\"\n\n\"He is quite satisfied with the legacy left to him by Aunt Lucy,\" said\nAlice unhesitatingly, for she knew nothing of Enistor's wrath about the\nloss.\n\nMontrose drew a long breath of relief. \"I am glad to hear you say that,\"\nhe said thankfully. \"I don't mind telling you, Miss Enistor, that, when\nI heard of my good fortune, it was my first intention to surrender the\nmoney to your father. I was persuaded not to do so by Dr. Eberstein.\"\n\n\"He is a friend of yours?\" she asked carelessly.\n\n\"The best friend a man ever had: the best friend a man could have. He\ncares for nothing save to do good. I see you raise your eyebrows,\nthinking of how he advised me to keep Lady Staunton's money. But he did\nso, because it was necessary.\"\n\n\"Why?\" demanded Alice point-blank.\n\n\"I can't tell you. He said it was necessary, so I obeyed him.\"\n\n\"Would you have obeyed him if he had told you to give my father the\nmoney?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Montrose truthfully and unhesitatingly. \"And to put it\nplainly, Miss Enistor, it is harder for me to keep the money than to\nsurrender it. I don't require so large an income.\"\n\n\"Yet my father heard from Mr. Cane that you were poor.\"\n\n\"Very poor. I was starving when I first made Lady Staunton's\nacquaintance, Miss Enistor. My parents died when I was a child, and I\nwas brought up by an old aunt in Edinburgh. When I was eighteen years\nof age she passed away, leaving me what little she had. I came to London\nwith the idea of writing poetry and plays. But my work would not sell,\nand when my money came to an end, I starved until I managed to drift\ninto journalism. Even then I only managed to keep body and soul together\nin a Bloomsbury garret. When I saved your aunt's life, she gave me\nemployment as her secretary to deal with her many charities. But I\nassure you that she never expressed any intention of leaving her money\nto me. If she had, I should have objected, since her brother was alive.\nHowever, she did leave me this large income, and I was ready to give it\nup, until Eberstein told me it was necessary to keep it.\"\n\n\"I wonder why?\" said Alice thoughtfully, and greatly interested in the\nstory he had told.\n\n\"Eberstein will not tell me. But he has a good reason for what he says\nand I always obey him, knowing his true friendship. A few years ago I\nwas dying of starvation and pneumonia in my attic, and he saved my life.\nSince then I have been with him constantly. As you believe in\nreincarnation, Miss Enistor, I may as well tell you that there is some\ntie between you and me dating from former lives. What it is I cannot\nsay, as Eberstein refuses to explain. He brought me here to-night to\nmeet you.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Alice darted a swift piercing look at the young man's earnest face\nand wondered if he was as guileless as he appeared to be. \"How did he\nknow that I was here?\"\n\n\"He is Mrs. Barrast's doctor, you know,\" said Montrose simply.\n\nThe girl did not reply immediately. She was considering if there was\nnot some conspiracy on foot to entangle her in a marriage bond. Dr.\nEberstein looked kindly and sympathetic, yet for his own ends he might\nhave brought herself and Montrose together. Was he an honest man, or a\nschemer? Was Montrose his victim, or his accomplice? And what had she to\ndo with either of the two men? As she thought thus, there came a wave of\nthat same overpowering influence which she had felt in the Tremore\ndining-room. It seemed to sweep away the suggestion of evil with which\nshe had almost unconsciously credited Eberstein and his young friend. \"I\ndon't understand,\" she said faintly and turned white.\n\n\"Are you ill?\" asked Montrose, alarmed. It was plain that he did not\nfeel the influence as she did.\n\n\"No! No! I shall be all right soon. The heat----\" here she broke off\nwith a surprised look. \"Why, I _am_ all right. I never felt better in my\nlife. Did you feel anything just now?\"\n\n\"Feel anything?\" Montrose looked puzzled. \"What do you mean, Miss\nEnistor?\"\n\n\"Nothing at all,\" she replied quickly and evasively, for she decided\nthat it would not do to be too frank with this young man until she knew\nmore of him. \"Only the heat, you know, and these dinners. I am a quiet\ncountry girl, Mr. Montrose, and am not accustomed to London life.\"\n\n\"I like the country myself, Miss Enistor,\" sighed the young man\nwistfully. \"I have long since wanted to live in the country, as London\nin some ways worries me. I can't explain myself more fully.\n\n\"I know what you feel like,\" said Alice, nodding wisely. \"You are\nsensitive as I am. To be in the country is like being in clean water,\nwhile London is like bathing in a dirty pool.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Montrose's face flushed and brightened. \"How did you guess?\"\n\n\"Because I feel as you do. It is the evil thoughts that are in London\nwhich affect you. My father knows something about psychic matters and\nhas taught me a little. That is why I believe in reincarnation.\"\n\nMontrose nodded in his turn. \"Eberstein first spoke to me on the subject\nand placed life in a new light before me. I used to wonder why I had\nsuch a bad time, and complained greatly about my lot. But he made all\nthings plain to me. I can bear life's burdens now with a serene heart.\"\n\nAlice was amused when she reflected on his position. \"You have health\nand wealth, good looks and a good friend. It is easy to bear such\nburdens.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you forget that I went through many a long year of sorrow and\nbewildered pain, Miss Enistor. Besides, money does not bring happiness.\nI never can be enthusiastic over money.\"\n\n\"People with large incomes can afford to say that,\" said Alice\ncynically.\n\n\"Is that a hit at me?\" retorted Montrose good-humouredly; \"if so it\nmisses its mark, I assure you. I am quite willing to give back the money\nto your father if Eberstein tells me to.\"\n\n\"Why should you obey him?\"\n\n\"Because he knows more than I do. I look upon him as a guide.\"\n\nAlice shook her head. \"Every man should think for himself.\"\n\n\"So Eberstein says,\" replied Montrose unexpectedly; \"and all he does is\nto give me hints, leaving me to take them or reject them as I choose.\nFortunately I know how little I do know, and I am glad to have a more\nexperienced man to help me.\"\n\n\"Experienced?\"\n\n\"Yes. In the things of this world and the next.\"\n\n\"Is Dr. Eberstein religious then?\"\n\n\"Not in the narrow sense in which the word religious is used. But he is\na wonderful man, as you will learn when you see more of him. I don't\nwant you to think me weak and without will-power, Miss Enistor, because\nI constantly quote Eberstein. But the most accomplished general is glad\nto obey the guidance of a man who knows the lie of the land when\nmarching through the enemy's country.\"\n\n\"The enemy's country?\"\n\n\"You might call the world so.\"\n\nMiss Enistor moved restlessly. \"What an odd conversation we are having!\"\nshe said in a nervous way. \"We have only met to-night for the first\ntime, and yet we are quite confidential.\"\n\n\"It is better to talk as we are doing than to gossip,\" said Montrose\nsententiously. \"And how do you know we have met for the first time\nto-night?\"\n\n\"I have never seen you before,\" said the girl sharply.\n\n\"You have not seen Douglas Montrose, nor have I seen Alice Enistor,\" was\nthe reply. \"But in other bodies, in other lives, we have been friends:\nthe very best of friends.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\" asked Alice, wilfully dense, although her heart\nendorsed every word the young man said.\n\n\"Need I explain?\" He stared at her hard.\n\n\"No,\" she answered after a short pause. \"I can guess your meaning. When\nwe shook hands we were drawn together by--well, I can't say.\"\n\n\"By the friendship of the past!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she hesitated; \"I suppose so! But other people would think we\nwere talking sad nonsense, Mr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"What does it matter what other people think?\" said the young man\ncalmly.\n\n\"Not much. But one has to consider the world in which one lives.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Barrast?\"\n\n\"No! No! No!\" Alice laughed outright and rose, as she felt that he was\ngetting on altogether too fast. \"She is very tolerant.\"\n\n\"That is something in her favour, considering how narrow people are as a\nrule in this world.\" Montrose got on his feet also. \"Before we join her\nand Eberstein, let me hear you assure me that you do not look upon me as\na grasping enemy who has taken your father's money.\"\n\n\"I assure you of that certainly,\" said the girl frankly, and gave him\nher hand with a smile. \"If you had not mentioned the subject I should\nnever have referred to it. Keep the money, Mr. Montrose, and make what\nuse you will of it. Both my father and myself are quite content,\" and\nshe said this about Enistor once more, entirely unaware of its falsity.\n\n\"You are good,\" said Montrose impetuously. \"Few people would take a loss\nso kindly.\"\n\n\"Well, like yourself I cannot get up any enthusiasm about money. Come,\nlet us join Mrs. Barrast.\"\n\n\"One moment. Shall I see you again?\"\n\n\"If you like. I am staying here for a few weeks!\"\n\n\"If I like.\" The young man's face was eloquent and the look in his eyes\nbetrayed his heart to Alice in a moment. With a laugh to hide her\nconfusion she turned away to join her hostess, and came face to face\nwith Dr. Eberstein.\n\n\"Well met, Miss Enistor,\" said the elder man in a genial manner and\nstaring at her very directly. \"I was just coming to take Montrose away.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" called out Mrs. Barrast, \"he is going, and at eleven o'clock too.\nSo very early. What can we do with the rest of the evening?\"\n\n\"I advise bed,\" said Eberstein pointedly.\n\n\"Bed for me,\" endorsed Alice gaily. \"I feel rather tired.\"\n\n\"I don't think you do,\" said the doctor calmly: and to Miss Enistor's\nsurprise on consideration she did not. But as he spoke she again felt a\nwave of that strange uplifting influence and drew back, startled to\nfind that it emanated from the doctor. Eberstein smiled quietly,\n\"Good-night!\"\n\n\"Good-night, Mr. Montrose,\" said Mrs. Barrast pointedly. \"Next time you\ncome, talk to me as well as to Miss Enistor!\"\n\n\"I apologise for my bad manners,\" said Montrose quickly.\n\n\"What a compliment to me!\" laughed Alice, shrugging her shoulders.\n\n\"Oh, you understand me, I think, Miss Enistor,\" he looked at her\nstraightly.\n\nShe returned his look flushing. \"I think I do,\" was her low reply.\n\n\"Such nonsense,\" said Mrs. Barrast irritably: for her the evening had\nnot been a success.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nBEHIND THE SCENES\n\n\nIt was a delightfully warm summer night when Eberstein and his young\nfriend left the house. For some little distance they walked on in\nsilence, as Eberstein was never voluble and Montrose felt disinclined to\nspeak at the moment. Oblivious of his surroundings, more or less, he\nmoved mechanically by the doctor's side, dreaming of Alice and of the\nlove which existed between them. Considering he had met her for the\nfirst time an hour or so previously, it seemed ridiculous, even in a\ndream, to think that she had any such tender feeling for him. But\nsomething in the deeps of his own nature was struggling to the surface\nto assure him that his dream was truth. Much as he valued Eberstein's\ncompany, he wished him away at the moment that he might puzzle out the\nmeaning of this strange intuition.\n\n\"But that is impossible, just now,\" said the doctor quietly. \"I wish you\nto come to my house, as I have much to say, and something to show.\"\n\nMontrose was startled, as he often was at Eberstein's speeches. \"You\nknow what I am thinking about?\"\n\n\"Is that so strange?\"\n\n\"Well, it isn't, really. You have extraordinary penetration. Sometimes I\nam quite afraid of you.\"\n\n\"You are never afraid of me,\" replied Eberstein, shaking his head with a\nbenevolent smile. \"Think!\"\n\n\"No!\" Montrose reflected for a few moments. \"It is true. I am not\nafraid!\"\n\nThe doctor smiled approvingly. \"That is right. Fear would prevent my\naiding you in any way, and you need aid more than you guess. Remember\nwhat the Bible says, my friend: 'In quietness and confidence shall be\nyour strength.'\"\n\n\"Faith and peace of mind are so hard to get,\" complained the young man\nsadly.\n\n\"Very hard. The Blessed One said that the Path was difficult.\"\n\n\"The Blessed One!\"\n\n\"Christ: your Master and mine,\" replied Eberstein solemnly. \"Strait is\nthe gate and narrow is the way which leadeth to life and few there be\nthat find it.\"\n\n\"And those who do not find it are lost?\"\n\n\"For the time being, not eternally. God is very gentle with His straying\nsheep, and we have many lives, many opportunities to find the way to the\nfold. You are coming to the strait gate, Montrose; therefore my aid is\ngiven to you lest you should faint on the hard uphill journey.\"\n\n\"I am not good enough even to approach the gate,\" sighed the young man.\n\n\"So you think! But the standard of goodness is not kept on earth, but in\nheaven, my friend. However\"--Eberstein broke off to hail a taxi--\"we can\ntalk of these things when we reach my house. Get in, Montrose!\"\n\nThe young man did so, and was followed by his master, who told the\nchauffeur to drive to Bloomsbury. Eberstein lived in that unfashionable\ndistrict, not-withstanding the fact that his practice lay largely\namongst wealthy and aristocratic people. Many of the doctor's patients\nwondered why he did not select a better-class neighbourhood, but\nEberstein never gave them any information on this point. Yet his known\ncharacter might have revealed the reason to an ordinarily shrewd person\nvery easily. The man was greatly given to helping the poor and needy.\nNot so much the proverbial ragged paupers of the slums--although he\nhelped those also when necessary--as poor curates, badly paid clerks,\nshabby governesses, struggling ladies, and such-like persons, who had to\nkeep up some sort of appearance on nothing. His money, his sympathy, his\nmedical skill, were all wholly at the service of those who could not\npay, and the fees received from his rich patients went to ameliorate the\nsufferings of the self-respecting, who never complained and showed their\npauperism as little as was possible. Eberstein made no boast of his\nphilanthropy: he never even spoke of his many good works. It was\nperfectly natural for him to go silently attentive about the work of his\nMaster Christ, as he knew he could act in no other way without going\ncontrary to his whole being. To feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to\nteach the ignorant, to comfort the desolate: for these purposes he was\nin the world.\n\nIn one of his exploring expeditions Eberstein had found Montrose dying\nin a garret and had set him on his legs again in a sympathetic brotherly\nway which had not offended the young man's pride. More than that, he\nhad supplied food for the starving soul as well as for the starving\nbody, and by explaining the riddles of Life in a perfectly reasonable\nway he had entirely changed Montrose's outlook. His prot\u00e9g\u00e9 had been\npuzzled by this absolutely unselfish conduct, not understanding from\ninexperience that no return was demanded for these great gifts. But as\nhis limitations began to expand through the teaching, he began to\ncomprehend, and finally he accepted Eberstein as a kind of angel in the\nflesh, sent to help him in his hour of need. And the philanthropist was\nso unaffectedly sincere, so reasonable and sympathetic, that the rescued\nman grew to love him with a reverence rare in the younger generation.\nThe doctor restored his faith in human existence.\n\n\"Here we are,\" said Eberstein, alighting from the taxi and dismissing\nit. \"We can now have an undisturbed hour for conversation.\"\n\nThe doctor admitted himself into the quiet house with his latch-key, as\nthe servants were all in bed. They were never kept up late by their\nconsiderate employer, since he recognised that they required their\nnecessary sleep. So the two men entered the hall, ascended the stairs,\nand betook themselves to a large room at the very top of the mansion.\nEberstein kept this entirely to himself, not even seeing his friends\ntherein, much less his patients. Therefore it was with some surprise and\nmore curiosity that Montrose stepped into the apartment and closed the\ndoor after him. Then he uttered an exclamation of pleasure--a soft\nexclamation, for the atmosphere of the place suggested a church.\n\n\"What a wonderful room,\" breathed Montrose, staring round him, \"and how\nholy.\"\n\nHe scarcely knew what caused him to utter the last word, unless it was\nthe unusual looks of the spacious room. Everything was white; the walls,\nthe carpet, the ceiling, and even the light which radiated from two\nlarge lamps with opaque globes. The table, the few chairs, the bookcase,\nand the sofa were of white wood with silken cushions like mounds of\nsnow, and the draperies which veiled the volumes and the windows were\nalso the hue of milk. Yet there was no suggestion of winter in the\ncolourless expanse, for the air was warm and the atmosphere so charged\nwith perfect peace that Montrose felt quite at home. The room, he felt,\nexpressed Eberstein himself. It might have been the chapel of The Holy\nGrail.\n\n\"You never brought me here before,\" said the young man, feeling that his\ndark garments were a blot on the purity of the surroundings, \"although\nyou have known me for three years, more or less.\"\n\n\"No,\" assented the doctor, seating himself before the table and\nindicating a chair for his guest, \"it was not necessary.\"\n\n\"Is it necessary to-night?\"\n\n\"I should not have brought you here, had it not been.\"\n\n\"But why this night of all nights?\" persisted the other wonderingly.\n\n\"You have met Miss Enistor.\"\n\nMontrose was more bewildered than ever. \"What has she got to do with it,\nor with me, or with anything?\"\n\n\"Ask yourself,\" said Eberstein, and looked steadily into the eyes of\nMontrose.\n\n\"I ask myself!\" murmured the guest, mechanically compelled to the\nspeech.\n\nThose kind grey eyes on a level with his own a little distance away\npoured, as it seemed, such a flood of light towards him that Montrose\nvoluntarily closed his own. Yet it was not a dazzling light which need\nhave frightened him, but an all-enfolding steady radiance, which bathed\nhis whole being in luminous splendour, until he felt that he was\npartaking of that peace of God which passeth understanding. The tide of\nglory lifted him up higher and higher beyond the gross envelope of the\nphysical body until he felt himself soaring without wings into an\nall-embracing sphere of glorious music which expressed itself in colour.\nIn this ocean of rainbow hues he floated, aware that he was using\nsuper-physical senses to view super-physical scenes. On him descended,\nwith the swiftness of thought, a golden cloud more brilliant than the\nnoonday sun, and this dissolved away to reveal the form of a young girl\nclothed in floating white draperies. The face was fair, the hair\ncorn-coloured, the eyes deeply blue and the figure majestic and\ngraceful. Anything more unlike the elfin beauty of Alice can scarcely be\nimagined. Yet he knew beyond all doubt that this was Alice in another\nshape which she had worn in another clime under alien stars. His soul\nflowed out to blend with her soul in one flame of unity. But there was a\nbarrier between them which Montrose strove to break through. Try as he\nmight he could not.\n\nEven in that heaven-world, despair seized him, when he found that the\ninvisible barrier withheld him from his beloved. On her side she seemed\nequally desirous to come to him, and held out her arms in vain longing.\nOn his face and her face were looks of appealing love baffled by the\nimpossibility of meeting heart to heart. Then a shadow grew up between\nthem swiftly; the shadow menacing and dark of a yellow-skinned man,\nrather like a Chinese, from whose throat ran a stream of blood. Who this\nman was Montrose could not tell, even though he had recognised Alice in\na different guise. And the enemy--Montrose felt that the wounded\ncreature was an enemy--grew larger and larger until the blackness of\nwhich he was part blotted out the splendour of the girl. Blotted out\nalso the atmosphere of colour and music and radiancy, until Montrose,\nsinking downward in the gloom, opened his physical eyes to find himself\nseated in the chair opposite Eberstein. Only a single moment had\nelapsed, for the journey had been as swift as that of Mahomet to the\nseventh heaven mounted on Al Borak, but he seemed to have been away for\nhours. The discrepancy was to Montrose impossible to reconcile, even\nthough he grasped confusedly the fact that he had been--in the Fourth\nDimension say--where there is no time.\n\n\"You now know what Alice Enistor has to do with you,\" said Eberstein in\na quiet impressive tone.\n\n\"I don't in one way,\" faltered the still bewildered young man, \"and yet\nI do in another. All I can be certain of is that she is mine.\"\n\n\"Undoubtedly. She is yours and you are hers.\"\n\n\"Then why could we not come together?\"\n\n\"The shadow of your sin came between and parted you.\"\n\n\"My sin?\"\n\n\"That which you committed five thousand years ago,\" explained the doctor\npatiently. \"Then, self-willed, self-centred, you would not wait the\nstriking of the hour which would have made you one, and therefore,\nseeking to obtain your desire by force, you broke the Great Law. The\nGreat Law broke you, as it breaks all who disobey. For many ages your\nsoul and her soul have been asunder, but now in the fullness of time you\nmeet again on this physical plane in new vestments of flesh. But your\nsin has not yet been expiated, and you cannot yet be one with her you\nlove. The shadow stands between you twain and will stand until the debt\nis paid.\"\n\n\"The shadow--the man?\" stammered Montrose confusedly.\n\n\"You owe him a life!\"\n\n\"But he is my enemy. I feel strongly that he is my enemy.\"\n\n\"He was and is: it depends greatly upon you if he continues to be. If\none obeys truly the Law of Love, one must not be angered even with one's\nenemy. What says the Blessed Son of the Most High God?\"\n\nAs if the words had been placed in his mouth, Montrose replied softly:\n\"Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate\nyou, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you!\"\n\nEberstein bowed his stately head. \"Such is the Law of Love.\"\n\nRubbing his eyes to make certain that he was entirely awake, Montrose\nsought for an interpretation. \"I do not quite understand.\"\n\n\"There is no need for you to understand further, my friend. This much\nenlightenment has been vouchsafed you through the mercy of God. For the\nrest you must work and walk by faith, seeing as in a glass darkly,\nobeying the Great Law of your own free will, so that your unselfish love\nmay cause hatred to cease.\"\n\n\"Whose hatred?\"\n\n\"That of the man you sinned against. Only with the aid of the Blessed\nOne!\"--Eberstein made the sign of the cross--\"can you prevent the Son of\nPerdition from descending into the Abyss.\"\n\n\"Who is the Son of Perdition?\"\n\n\"Your enemy, whom Christ loves as He loves you. Your task is to make\nyourself a channel through which the grace of the Blessed One can freely\npour for the salvation of this erring soul. Oh, think how glorious it is\nthat you should be permitted to be the instrument of Christ in this\nmighty work.\"\n\n\"But I do not know how to go about the work!\" exclaimed the bewildered\nman.\n\n\"Watch and pray, my son, for the time when you must act is near at hand.\nOnly by making yourself receptive to the holy influence will you know\nhow to act when the time is ripe.\"\n\n\"You will help me?\"\n\n\"I am bound to help you since I am obedient to the Law. But much has to\nbe done by yourself, Montrose. I cannot command, as each man has\nfree-will with which even the Logos Himself does not interfere. Christ\nstands at the door of your heart, but will not enter unless you invite\nHis entrance. Only by doing what you ought to do will the Spirit of Love\nenter and sup with you.\"\n\n\"But what am I to do?\" demanded Montrose desperately.\n\n\"Ask your own heart.\"\n\n\"It says nothing.\"\n\n\"The time is not yet ripe for it to say anything. Watch and pray! Come,\"\nthe doctor spoke in a more matter-of-fact tone, \"it is growing late. Go\nhome and sleep: you are becoming exhausted.\"\n\n\"But tell me, Eberstein, if I am right in what I think,\" pleaded\nMontrose earnestly. \"I know intuitively that I met Miss Enistor in some\nprevious life and that I loved her, as I love her now when we come\ntogether for the first time in this incarnation. I had all the feeling\nof being her friend. Oh what do I say! Friend is too weak a word--of\nbeing her lover. If I understand rightly, some sin committed by me has\nparted us, and that sin I have to expiate before we can come together\nagain.\"\n\n\"That is the case. But ask me no more now. With the aid of the Blessed\nOne you must work out your salvation in fear and trembling.\"\n\n\"Indicate my enemy and I shall forgive him for Alice's sake,\" cried the\nyoung man with impetuous generosity.\n\n\"You must forgive him for his own.\"\n\n\"How can I when I don't know why we are enemies?\"\n\n\"You will know when it is necessary you should know.\"\n\nMontrose passed his hands across his brow and stood up slowly. \"It is\nall bewildering and difficult.\"\n\n\"Very bewildering and very difficult. I answered that question earlier\nin the evening. We talk in a circle. To do so is a waste of time.\nGood-night!\"\n\nAnother question was trembling on Montrose's lips, but he refrained from\nputting it, and with a silent hand-shake departed slowly. Accustomed to\ncome and go at will in this house, which was more a home to him than any\nhabitation he had known, the young man descended the stairs and let\nhimself out into the silent square. The balmy summer night was brilliant\nwith stars, and charged with some mysterious healing influence, which\nsoothed and relaxed his weary nerves. On all sides the great city was\nyet awake and alive with people, each one intent upon the realisation of\nhis or her desire. But here, isolated from the roaring thoroughfares,\nthe quadrangle was comparatively lonely and dark, as the passers-by were\nfew and the lights widely scattered. The central gardens, with their\ntrees and shrubs and turf and flowers, slept within the rusty iron\nrailings, speaking every now and then as a wandering breeze woke the\nleaves to sigh and whisper. The hurrying steps of a wayfarer, the\nmeasured heavy tread of a policeman, the murmur of distant life:\nMontrose heard these things without hearing as it were, as without\nseeing he stared at the silent cats gliding through the shadows. He\nwalked along, wrapped up in his own thoughts, seeking mechanically his\nrooms and bed.\n\nNotwithstanding his accession to considerable wealth, the fortunate\nyouth had but slightly changed his mode of living. He enjoyed better\nlodgings, better clothes, more nourishing food, and was free from the\nobligation of compulsory work to exist. But he still lived in\nunfashionable Bloomsbury, a quiet, inexpensive, and somewhat recluse\nlife, not seeking to enter what is known as society. With his good looks\nand undeniable talents and newly acquired wealth, he would have been\nwelcome to the gay throng who flutter in the sunshine of pleasure. But\nthere was nothing in Montrose which responded to such aimless\nallurements. Once or twice friends had taken him to this house and that,\nwhere the butterflies gathered, and on this particular night Eberstein\nhad induced him to dine at Mrs. Barrast's. But entertainments of all\nkinds bored Montrose immensely, and only the presence of Alice had aided\nhim to endure the shallow chatter of his hostess and the artificiality\nof his surroundings. The after-events in Eberstein's room had both\nstartled and awed him, so that he was still greatly moved by what had\ntaken place when he reached his modest lodgings.\n\nBut, as common sense told him, thinking would not help him, as his\nthoughts spun in a circle and always brought him back to the same point.\nThat point was the meeting with Alice and the weird feelings which\ncontact with her personality had aroused in him. She belonged to his\nlife in some way which he could not quite put into words, and he\nbelonged to hers. They were together and yet apart, but what parted them\nit was impossible to say, as the vision had not indicated in detail the\nespecial sin, or what had led to the commission of that sin. Soon he\nwould know more--Eberstein had assured him of that. Therefore it would\nbe best to wait for the knowledge. He had been given light enough in the\ndarkness of the path to take the next step, and that light revealed\nAlice waiting for him to come to her. He was only too willing to do so,\nas the feeling that he loved her deeply grew with overwhelming\nswiftness. When she knew what was in his heart and he knew what was in\nhers, then the next step could be taken. What it might be and where it\nwould lead to Montrose could not say.\n\nHowever, the doctor had given him necessary instructions for the moment\nin the phrase \"Watch and pray!\" To watch for the dawning love in Alice\nand to pray that he might be worthy of such love seemed to be his task,\nand a very delightful task it would be. Therefore Montrose knelt down\nand prayed with all his clean heart that every possible blessing might\nbefall the girl and that, if it was God's will, he might become her\nhusband to cherish and protect her. Then he went to bed in a peaceful\nframe of mind. Sleep came to him almost immediately, but before his eyes\nclosed he felt that Alice was near him, and knew that in some wordless\nmanner Alice spoke to him.\n\n\"We have much to learn and there is pain in the learning,\" she\nwhispered, \"but we are together to suffer together.\"\n\n\"Suffering does not matter,\" said Montrose, as in a dream, \"we are\ntogether!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nLOVE'S YOUNG DREAM\n\n\nAfter the storm comes the calm, and when trouble has endured for a\nseason peace descends to refresh the exhausted soul. Montrose had\nsuffered a great deal during the five-and-twenty years of his present\nlife, and it was time that he should enjoy a rest. Ever since he could\nremember, dark clouds had enshrouded him, and with a fainting heart he\nhad groped his way through the gloom. The meeting with Eberstein had\nbeen the end of sorrow and the beginning of joy, for the doctor had\nbidden him raise his eyes to the hills made glorious by the rising sun.\nWith the legacy of Lady Staunton the dawn had come, but only when he met\nAlice did Montrose feel that the sun was above the horizon. As by magic\nthe darkness was swept away, and now he walked in golden sunshine, no\nlonger alone. She was beside him, and he wondered how he could have\nendured life without her dear presence. For the next three weeks he was\nin heaven rather than on earth.\n\nOf course the first desire of Montrose was to share with Alice the\nwonderful knowledge that he had acquired so strangely. But a note from\nEberstein prevented this. The doctor wrote that he was going abroad for\na few weeks, and that in the meanwhile Montrose was to tell the girl\nnothing of his late experiences. \"Woo her as an ordinary youth woos an\nordinary maid,\" said the letter. \"She is yours and you are hers, so\nnothing can come between you for the time being. I say for the time\nbeing, since there is an ordeal which you must face before you stand\nbefore the altar. Whether you ever do stand there to take her as your\nwife depends upon your courage and forbearance and love. Meantime keep\nwhat you have seen and what you have heard to yourself. When I return I\nshall explain what is necessary for you to know!\" This note was\ndelivered the first thing in the morning after Montrose's weird\nexperience, and when he called round to see Eberstein he found that the\ndoctor had already departed for Paris. There was nothing left for him to\ndo but to obey instructions.\n\nMontrose did this very willingly. After all he was a man living in the\nworld of men, and wished to make love like an ordinary person. Certainly\nAlice was an angel, and might not be satisfied with ordinary\nlove-making, but she also was human, and appreciated the domesticity of\nlife. Montrose remembered reading in some book Eberstein had lent him:\n\"For every step you take in other planes, take two on the plane you\nknow, since you are here to learn the lessons of this plane!\" Thus the\nyoung man abandoned for the moment his search after super-physical\nknowledge and gave himself up to the joy of being an ordinary mortal.\nAnd in one way or another he hoped to elevate a commonplace wooing to a\nromantic passion, but all strictly within the limitations of the\nphysical brain. When the gods descended from Olympus to follow after\nnymphs, they came as mere men. In a like way did Montrose set about his\ncourting of Alice as the one woman in the world for him.\n\nMrs. Barrast quite approved of the romance. For a time she had been\nrather annoyed that so handsome and rich a young man had not laid\nhimself at her feet. But being really good-natured, if extraordinarily\nvain, the little woman had ceased to play the part of dog in the manger,\nand forwarded the aim of Montrose by every means in her power. At heart\nshe was a great match-maker like most women, and the fact that Montrose\npossessed Lady Staunton's wealth made her zealous to bring about the\nmarriage. She looked upon herself as quite a _dea ex machin\u00e2_, and,\ncertain that all would turn out as she wished, had already arranged how\nthe bridesmaids should be dressed, what people ought to be asked to the\nwedding, what present she would give, and where the young couple should\nspend their honeymoon. There was no doubt that Mrs. Barrast, like many\nanother frivolous person, was a great hand at counting her chickens\nbefore they were hatched.\n\n\"But the dinky little things will come out of the eggs all right,\" she\nsaid to Alice, a week after that young lady had made the acquaintance of\nMontrose. \"He's a nice boy and any one can see he's head over heels in\nlove with you, my dear. But I wish you would dress in colours, Alice. It\nlooks so silly for an engaged girl to go about in black.\"\n\n\"I am not engaged yet,\" replied Miss Enistor doubtfully, \"and I never\nmay be, Amy. My father has to be consulted.\"\n\n\"My dear,\" said Mrs. Barrast impressively, \"he'll jump at the chance of\ngetting the money back into the family.\"\n\n\"There is Don Pablo, who wants to marry me,\" ventured Alice anxiously.\n\n\"And there's Julian also,\" retorted the little woman. \"What of that?\nWhy, I had dozens of offers before I met Frederick, though why I\ntook him I really don't know. Of course, as you told me this Don\nWhat's-his-name is rich and if Douglas--you don't mind my calling him\nDouglas, do you, dear?--was poor, I shouldn't advise you to throw the\nold thing over. But youth and good looks and money and all those nice\nthings are better than an old man. And I am glad after all that you did\nnot accept Julian,\" ended Mrs. Barrast candidly. \"He isn't rich either,\nand life's horrid without money. Besides, I wish Julian to marry a rich\ngirl.\"\n\n\"If he loves her.\"\n\n\"Pooh, what has love to do with marriage? What old-fashioned ideas you\nhave, Alice. I suppose you wouldn't marry Douglas if you didn't love\nhim.\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" said the girl firmly.\n\nMrs. Barrast made a grimace. \"It's lucky you like him then, my dear. Of\ncourse it's not right to marry for money only,\" added the butterfly,\ncontradicting herself boldly, \"but when you meet a man with a banking\naccount try and love him as hard as ever you can.\"\n\n\"I love Douglas for himself alone. If he was a pauper I should love\nhim.\"\n\n\"I daresay you would. I'm sure there is madness in your family. It's a\nmercy Douglas is well off. Five thousand a year is very nice. Be sure\nyou make him take a house near ours, dear, and get a smart motor-car\nwith one of those nice chauffeurs who look like engineers but aren't.\nThey're lots cleaner than engineers, aren't they? And do wear a blue\ndress, dear: blue suits you.\"\n\n\"No! no! I am still in mourning for my aunt.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you needn't be. I wouldn't mourn for a horrid, lean, old\nthing--she was lean, you know--who didn't leave me a penny.\"\n\n\"She left my father one thousand pounds, Amy.\"\n\n\"Just enough to make him hate her. I'm sure I would if I'd been treated\nin that nasty way. And do make Douglas take you out more. I'll come too\nas your chaperon, though perhaps I'm too young for the part.\"\n\n\"I go out quite enough, Amy. With my aunt in her grave----\"\n\n\"Oh, don't talk about graves,\" cried Mrs. Barrast, rising in a hurry,\n\"you set my nerves on edge, if nerves ever do have an edge, which I'm\nsure I don't know if they have. Not that it matters of course. Has\nDouglas proposed?\"\n\n\"No. But we understand one another.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear,\" said Mrs. Barrast in despair, \"what is the use of that? I\nlike everything to be signed, sealed, and delivered--I come of a legal\nfamily, you know, dear--to make certain. Don't lose your salmon after\nyou've hooked him. Men do wriggle, you know, and if he sees another\ngirl, he will----\"\n\n\"He won't,\" interrupted Alice, with very red cheeks. \"How can you talk\nso? I am the only girl Douglas has ever loved.\"\n\n\"Oh, he told you the usual lie then,\" sniggered the little woman\nprovokingly. \"How can men be so silly as to think we believe them! I\nwish you'd ask him to make love here, Alice, as I'd like to hear how he\ngoes about it. It's absurd meeting in Kensington Gardens as you do. It\nisn't respectable.\"\n\n\"Then I am not going to be respectable this afternoon,\" said Alice,\nescaping from this wasp, \"for we meet there in two hours.\"\n\n\"Make him give you an engagement ring,\" cried Mrs. Barrast, who always\ninsisted upon having the last word, \"diamonds, you know, dear. If the\nengagement is broken you won't want to keep the ring and can always get\nmarket value for the stones. I feel it is only right that you should\nhave some of that money. Remember what I say, darling: remember what I\nsay.\"\n\nAlice, on her way to her own room, did not hear the end of this speech,\nalthough it was screamed out after her. She was rather offended that\nMrs. Barrast should advise Montrose's capture like an unwilling fish, as\nif any marriage could possibly be happy with a reluctant bridegroom. But\nwhen putting on her hat, the girl laughed at her reflection in the\nmirror, and excused the little woman's well-meant speech. Amy really did\nmean well, although she had a rather brutal way of putting things. Miss\nEnistor wondered if Frederick had been bargained for in this mercantile\nway, and thought it was very probable. Mrs. Barrast was exceedingly\nmodern, and modern women are very businesslike in dealing with what was\nformerly called romance. The Barrast marriage was a kind of mutual aid\nsociety. Frederick had secured a pretty woman to do the honours of his\nhouse, and Amy had captured a rich husband who supplied her with plenty\nof money and let her go her own frivolous way. Alice decided that the\nshrewd butterfly had made the best bargain, and was taking full\nadvantage of her cleverness. Then she put Mrs. Barrast out of her head\nand started for the place of meeting in Kensington Gardens.\n\nIt was a warm afternoon, but not too dazzling, as a thin veil of clouds\nwas drawn across the sky. Alice alighted from her taxi at the park gates\nand leisurely walked up the broad path towards the Round Pond. She\npreferred to meet Douglas here rather than in the Hans Crescent house,\nbecause Mrs. Barrast would always have been interrupting. And the girl\nwas sufficiently in love to think that two was company and three a\nnuisance. As a matter of fact, she acknowledged to herself she was as\ndeeply in love with Montrose as he obviously was with her, though\nneither of them had put the feeling into words. On this occasion,\nhowever, Alice decided that it would be just as well to come to some\nsort of understanding, since it was probable that she would not remain\nmuch longer in town. At least she fancied so, for her father had been\ngrumbling about the money she was spending. Of course she had only known\nDouglas for seven days, and it was rather early to fall in love with\nhim. But she felt convinced that in previous lives she had loved the\nyoung man, and that the present wooing was only the continuation of one\ninterrupted in the distant past. What had interrupted it she could not\nsay, but this time she was determined to bring it to a head, and learn\nfor certain if Douglas felt towards her as she felt towards him. If\nglances and attentions went for anything, he assuredly did, but modesty\nor nervousness apparently prevented his plain speaking. Expecting at any\nminute to be summoned back to the gloom of Tremore, Alice felt that she\ncould not go away without knowing what Montrose's feelings were. And if\nhe really did love her to the extent of making her his wife, she\ngratefully recognised that she would have some one beside her to resist\nthe pressure put upon her by Don Pablo and her father.\n\nOn arriving at the tree under which she usually met her lover, she was\nsurprised not to find him waiting for her. His absence piqued her,\nespecially as she was late, for he certainly should have been watching\nfor her arrival with his heart in his eyes. With a pout she sat down on\none of the two green chairs and stared unseeingly at the many children\nplaying about the grass and sailing toy ships on the Round Pond. What\nwould her father say if he knew that she was meeting Montrose, and now\nloved him to the extent of thwarting Enistor's darling project of\nuniting her to Narvaez. Poor ignorant girl! She little knew that Don\nPablo by his black arts was keeping Enistor advised of all that was\ntaking place, and that the two men were calmly watching her innocent\nluring of the fly into the web. Eberstein could have warned her of this\ninfernal espionage, but he was absent, and neither Alice nor her lover\nhad any knowledge how to guard themselves. They were even ignorant that\nprotection was necessary, and it was only when the worst was at an end\nthat they learned how the guardianship of the master had been withdrawn\nfor the time being. The children had to learn to walk alone in their\nown strength and by their own will. Therefore, in the Garden of Eden\nrepresented by Kensington Gardens, did they lie open to the assault of\nthe Serpent in the person of Don Pablo. But their ignorance and\ninnocence and natural leanings towards the good baffled the black magic\nof the evil creature for the moment.\n\n\"A penny for your thoughts,\" said Montrose suddenly, and Alice raised\nher eyes to find that he had slipped silently into the chair placed a\ntrifle behind that on which she was seated.\n\n\"They are only worth a halfpenny,\" she retorted rebukingly. \"I was\nthinking how little you must care for my company when you are so late!\"\n\n\"I have been hiding behind yonder tree ever since you arrived,\"\nexplained Montrose, laughing, \"and for quite an hour I have been\nwaiting.\"\n\nAlice laughed also. The boyishness of his action appealed to her. \"But\nwe are too old to play at Peep Boo like babies,\" she said, shaking her\nhead with a would-be attempt at primness which was quite a failure.\n\n\"We are not old,\" denied Montrose, placing his chair in line with hers.\n\"We are young: we shall always be young, for the gods love us. As to\nbabies, look into my eyes and you will see yourself as a baby.\"\n\nBut Alice would not look, and the colour came to her cheeks. \"There was\na girl at school who talked of babies in the eyes. It was amusing to\nhear her talk, but rather silly.\"\n\n\"The silly things are the serious things of life at this moment.\"\n\n\"How do you explain that epigram, Mr. Montrose?\"\n\n\"Do epigrams require explanations?\"\n\n\"This one does, I fancy.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, it doesn't. You must guess that the explanation lies in the\nwords I used. 'At this moment,' I said.\"\n\n\"Why this moment rather than others, Mr. Montrose?\"\n\nThe young man drew back rather disappointed. \"No. I see you don't\nunderstand, Miss Enistor, or you would not call me Mr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"You call me Miss Enistor!\" replied Alice, wilfully dense.\n\nFor the sake of beating her with her own weapons, he answered in kind.\n\"Naturally I do. I am a very polite person. But I daresay, in other\nlives, in other climes, and when we were clothed in other bodies, I\ncalled you Chloe, or Octavia, or Isabeau, or Edith.\"\n\n\"Greek, Roman, French, and Anglo-Saxon,\" commented Alice, amused; \"you\nseem to have settled the countries we lived in. I suppose I called you\nDamon, or Marcus, or Jehan, or Harold--that is, supposing we were\ntogether in those days in those places.\"\n\n\"We have always been together,\" said Douglas decisively. \"I am quite\nsure.\"\n\n\"Have you any proof?\"\n\n\"Only the proof of my own feelings. I am not clairvoyant to the\nextent of remembering my former incarnations, nor can I--as some\ncan--consciously leave my physical body at will and return to it with a\nrecollection of what I have seen. Now you are more advanced.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I am not. I have learned much from my father, who knows a great\ndeal about such psychic matters. But I have never been properly\ninstructed and my knowledge is very limited.\"\n\n\"But you believe in the doctrine of reincarnation?\" urged Montrose\neagerly.\n\n\"Of course. It is a most sensible doctrine to believe, and explains\nnearly everything in a common-sense way. But I cannot prove my belief.\"\n\n\"There is no need to prove it to me,\" said Montrose, thinking of his\nvision, \"for I know beyond all question that we have lived and loved\nbefore.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" assented the girl dreamily, \"I knew you the moment you entered\nMrs. Barrast's drawing-room.\"\n\nThe young man glanced round, and, seeing that they were more or less\nsheltered from observation, gently took her hand. She did not remove it,\nalthough her whole body thrilled to the touch. \"You knew me as what?\"\nasked Montrose.\n\n\"I can't say more than that I knew you as a familiar friend.\"\n\n\"So cold a word,\" pleaded the other softly.\n\n\"What other word can I use to you when we have only known each other for\na single week?\"\n\n\"That is in this life. In other existences we knew each other for\nyears.\"\n\nAlice looked down timidly. \"It--is--probable,\" she breathed.\n\n\"Then why not take up the new life at the point where the old one left\noff?\"\n\n\"We don't know how it left off, Mr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"No. But assuredly it did at a point where you called me by my then\nChristian name--Alice.\"\n\nHer heart fluttered as he spoke thus intimately. \"Perhaps we were not\nChristians,\" she said, rather embarrassed.\n\n\"Ah!\" he dropped her hand, \"you are fencing. I merely spoke in the style\nof to-day to illustrate my point.\"\n\n\"Now you are angry!\"\n\n\"I never could be angry with you; only you will not understand.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I do,\" said Alice, with a whimsical smile.\n\n\"If so, why aren't you plain with me?\" said Montrose, ruffled.\n\nThe mothering instinct, which makes every woman see in every man a child\nto be soothed and petted, rose within her. \"Let us slap the bad, naughty\ntable that has hurt baby,\" she said demurely, and Montrose looked up to\nsee the laughter in her eyes.\n\n\"You little witch!\" He caught her hand again and this time so roughly\nthat she winced at the delicious pain. \"You know quite well what I\nmean.\"\n\n\"I do--Douglas!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" He leaned towards her so violently that she swung aside in alarm.\n\n\"The eyes of Europe are on us,\" she said hastily, indicating the throng\nof children and nursemaids and grown-up people round the pond and on the\npaths and lying on the grass.\n\n\"Bother the eyes of Europe.\" But he saw that she was right and he did\nnot dare proclaim his love by taking her in his arms. It was rather a\npoor thing to content himself with squeezing her hand. But he did, and\nso hard that she uttered an exclamation.\n\n\"Mr. Montrose, you are hurting me.\"\n\n\"Am I? Poor hand! I wish I could kiss it!\" with a swift look round, he\nmanaged to do so. \"There--Alice. Don't you dare to call me anything but\nDouglas.\"\n\n\"I believe you wish to take me by storm,\" she pouted, not ill-pleased.\n\n\"What! capture my own city?\"\n\n\"Your own city? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean that I dwell in your heart. That city is mine.\"\n\n\"How conceited you are.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I am not. You know quite well that I am only speaking the\ntruth. I loved you in the past and I love you now. All preliminaries of\nlove were gone through ages ago. Why fence, as if we now meet for the\nfirst time? When I saw you in Mrs. Barrast's drawing-room I said, 'She\nis mine!' When you saw me you said, 'I am his'----\"\n\n\"I'm sure I didn't,\" interrupted Alice hastily.\n\n\"You thought it, though.\"\n\n\"I shan't tell you.\"\n\n\"There is no need for you to do so. Oh, my dear,\" he went on\nentreatingly, \"is there so much love in the world that you and I can\nafford to throw what we possess away? All my life I have been lonely:\nall my life I have wanted to meet you, to adore you, to----\"\n\n\"How could you when you didn't know that I existed?\"\n\n\"Fencing again. As if you didn't know that spirit is everything and form\nis nothing. We have been apart on earth until last week; but we have\nalways been together in higher worlds, although neither you nor I can\nremember our companionship.\"\n\nAlice laughed in a rather anxious manner. \"Any one listening to us would\nbe certain both of us were insane.\"\n\n\"I daresay. But as no one is listening, it doesn't matter. For the\nconvenience of a world that doesn't understand such things, let us\nbehave in a conventional manner. I shall visit at Mrs. Barrast's and\ncourt you in the approved style. In due time I shall write and ask your\nfather if I may make you my wife. Meanwhile I want your assurance that\nyou love me and have always loved me in the past.\"\n\n\"But a single week----\"\n\n\"Time doesn't matter. You know it doesn't. You love me, Alice?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" She saw that the time for fencing was ended. \"I love you,\nDouglas!\"\n\nHe kissed her hand again, then, aware that the place was too public for\nhim to take her in his arms, suppressed his feelings. Side by side they\nsat in a stiff kind of way, while each longed for demonstrations which\nthe situation forbade. It was decidedly uncomfortable to be thus\nconventional. But it was just as well that they thus came to an\nunderstanding in the eye of the sun, as the self-control was quite an\neducation.\n\n\"One would think we were a couple of old married people, sitting side\nby side in this stiff manner,\" said Montrose with a vexed laugh. \"I\nshould like to be a Sabine and carry you away by force.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you will have to do so,\" said Alice, thinking of Don Pablo. \"My\nfather will never consent to my becoming your wife.\"\n\nMontrose looked amazed and anxious. \"Why not? There is nothing against\nmy character and position,\" he said rapidly, \"and as I have inherited\nLady Staunton's money, your father will be glad that I should bring it\ninto the Enistor family again by making you my wife.\"\n\n\"I don't think my father cares anything about the money,\" said Alice,\nignorant of her parent's true feelings. \"He wants me to marry Don\nPablo.\"\n\n\"A Spaniard. Who is he?\"\n\n\"A Spaniard, as you have said. He is my father's greatest friend.\"\n\n\"Young and handsome and wealthy?\"\n\n\"Wealthy, certainly. But very ugly, just like a mummy, and as old as the\nhills--older, I believe. He must be eighty.\"\n\n\"Then why does your father wish you to marry him?\"\n\n\"Because Don Pablo is rich.\"\n\n\"Well, I am rich also. Five thousand a year is riches.\"\n\n\"Don Pablo has more, I fancy.\"\n\n\"I don't care what he has. He hasn't got you for a wife and he never\nwill have. You will marry me and no one else.\"\n\n\"Yes, I promise you that, Douglas. But there will be trouble.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" Montrose laughed joyously. \"I'd face a universe of trouble if\nyou were the prize to be obtained by enduring it. Besides, Eberstein\nsays that we belong to one another.\"\n\n\"How does he know?\"\n\n\"He knows many things that are strange and true. When he comes back he\nwill explain. He promised to do so. Meantime, all we have to do is to be\ntrue to one another. We are engaged. Say we are engaged, Alice.\"\n\n\"Yes. We are engaged. I shall marry no one but you.\"\n\n\"Hurrah! Then we shall be happy for ever and ever----\"\n\n\"Amen,\" said the girl thankfully. \"All the same, I fear Don Pablo.\"\n\nMontrose tucked her arm within his own. \"We are together,\" he said.\n\"Unity is strength. You understand, dear!\" And Alice did understand,\nsmiling happily.\n\n\"It is the birthday of the soul,\" she said; \"of your soul and mine,\nwhich are one.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE WARNING\n\n\nMindful that a premature engagement might lead to gossip, Montrose and\nhis beloved acted with great discretion. They gave vent to their ardent\nfeelings in private, and behaved prudently in public. Certainly the\nyoung man paid many visits to Mrs. Barrast's house, and was markedly\nattentive to her visitor. But it was natural that a bachelor should\nadmire a pretty maid, so people merely remarked indulgently that\nevidently Montrose was falling in love with Miss Enistor. They little\nknew that the inevitable had already happened, and in a scandalously\nshort space of time. Mrs. Barrast, with a shrewdness which did her\ncredit, guessed that the couple understood one another better than they\nwould admit; but even she did not guess how far matters had gone. She\nwould have been annoyed had she really known the truth, not because of\nthe private engagement, but for the simple reason that she had not been\nadmitted into the confidence of the lovers. As it was, all she saw led\nher to believe that Montrose was conventionally approaching her guest\nwith a view to marriage, and quite approved of his intentions. Therefore\nshe welcomed him to the house, and made use of him and his money. It was\nonly right, she thought, that he should pay for her kindness in\nforwarding his aims.\n\nAnd the payment took the form of Mrs. Barrast plundering Montrose on\nall and every occasion. Frederick supplied her with ample funds for her\nfrivolity, but Mrs. Barrast always wanted more than she could reasonably\nobtain, and cleverly got what she desired from Douglas. As both lovers\nwere in deep mourning for Lady Staunton, the aunt of one and the\nbenefactress of the other, they did not take much part in the gaieties\nof the waning season. All the same, Mrs. Barrast made Montrose give her\nconcert tickets and boxes at theatres, which she used freely for herself\nand her friends. And as on these occasions she usually left Alice to\nentertain the donor in the Hans Crescent house, the young man was quite\nwilling to be lavish in this direction. Indeed, he was in others also,\nfor he supplied the butterfly with flowers and scent and gloves and\nsimilar trifles, which every woman likes to have and which no woman\nlikes to pay for. Alice did not object at the outset to this generosity,\nas it was necessary to keep Mrs. Barrast in a good temper; but in the\nend she protested against such wholesale robbery.\n\n\"You will ruin Mr. Montrose if you take everything he gives you,\" she\nsaid to Amy, two weeks after that momentous agreement in Kensington\nGardens.\n\n\"Oh, nonsense!\" replied Mrs. Barrast airily. \"The man has got more money\nthan he knows what to do with. It's a man's duty to be agreeable. But of\ncourse, dear, if you are jealous----\"\n\n\"I--jealous?\"\n\nMrs. Barrast shrugged her elegant shoulders. \"Well, my dear, it looks\nlike it, you know. You needn't be if you are, I'm sure, for I can't\nmarry him, and I have no intention of running away with the dear\nthing.\"\n\n\"He wouldn't run away with you if you wanted to,\" said Alice crossly,\nand could have bitten out her tongue for the speech.\n\n\"Really!\" Mrs. Barrast tittered significantly. \"Has it gone as far as\nthat?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Alice grew red.\n\n\"My dear! You are a woman talking to a woman, so there is no need for\nyou to try and deceive me. You want to marry this charming young\nfellow!\"\n\n\"I don't admit that, Amy.\"\n\n\"Whether you admit it or deny it, what I state is the case.\"\n\n\"You have no right to say so. I like Mr. Montrose. I admire him!\"\n\n\"Words! Words! Words! You love him. Look at yourself in the glass, my\ndear. I think your colour tells the truth.\"\n\n\"What if it does?\"\n\n\"Ah! Then you admit that I am right?\"\n\nAlice saw that it was useless to fence with Mrs. Barrast, who was much\ntoo clever to be deceived and far too dangerous to be tampered with.\n\"Yes! I am in love with--Mr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"Why not say with Douglas?\" tittered the little woman.\n\n\"Douglas, if it pleases you.\"\n\n\"My dear, the question is if it pleases _you_ and--him. Am I blind?\"\nasked Mrs. Barrast dramatically. \"Am I a fool? Do you think that during\nthe past three weeks I have left you and that nice boy together without\nguessing the truth ages and ages ago? I never ask for tickets. He gives\nthem to me to get me out of the way, which\"--ended the butterfly\njustly--\"is not complimentary to me.\"\n\n\"I don't mind Mr.--well then, Douglas, giving you boxes at the\ntheatres,\" said Alice petulantly; \"but why take flowers and gloves\nand----\"\n\n\"Because I want such things,\" retorted Mrs. Barrast coolly. \"If you are\nfoolish enough not to take presents from him, I don't see why I should\nnot. But I am glad that we have come to an understanding, dear, as I\nwish to know if you are in earnest, or if you are merely flirting.\"\n\n\"And if I am flirting?\"\n\n\"Then I think it's very horrid of you. He has a heart and hearts can be\nbroken. I don't flirt myself,\" said Mrs. Barrast, uttering the lie with\nthe greatest composure, \"but if you are making a fool of that nice boy I\nshall take him off your hands and be a--a--well, a mother to him.\"\n\nAlice laughed outright. \"You are much too young and pretty to be a\nmother to any one, Amy!\"\n\n\"That's right. Taunt me because I haven't any children. Frederick is\nalways complaining, as if it was my fault, which I'm sure it isn't. But\nas to this flirting----\"\n\n\"It isn't flirting. Douglas and I understand one another.\"\n\n\"Really. How sly you are! Has he said anything?\"\n\n\"All that I wished him to say.\"\n\n\"Then he has proposed?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" Alice contented herself with the affirmative and did not trouble\nto give the date of the proposal. Mrs. Barrast understood that it had\ntaken place within the last day or so, and even that displeased her.\n\n\"It's quite immoral for him to be so hasty,\" she exclaimed, because the\nidea of Montrose adoring Alice and not herself was annoying and hurt her\nvanity.\n\nThe girl smiled, wondering what her hostess would say if she knew that\nthe proposal had been made three weeks previously. \"He's in love, you\nsee!\"\n\n\"There is sense in all things, my dear. He has only known you a month.\"\n\n\"Of course! But love at first sight----\"\n\n\"I don't believe in such a thing.\"\n\n\"Oh, Amy, what about Romeo and Juliet?\"\n\n\"They are only things in a play. I don't think Juliet was at all\nrespectable, and if she had lived in London instead of Verona, I should\nnever have allowed her to visit me. Mr. Montrose should have behaved\nhimself properly.\"\n\n\"What do you call proper behaviour on his part?\"\n\n\"Well, he should have spoken to me first!\"\n\n\"Douglas's idea of propriety differs from yours, Amy. He thought it was\nbest to tell my father that he wished to marry me, before speaking to\nyou.\"\n\n\"He could do no less,\" snapped Mrs. Barrast, still ruffled. \"Has he\nwritten to Mr. Enistor?\"\n\n\"Yes. Two days ago; but he has not yet received an answer. Nor have I,\nfor I wrote to my father at the same time, asking him to consent to our\nengagement.\"\n\n\"Oh, he'll consent quick enough--your father, that is,\" sniffed the\nlittle woman. \"He owes me a great deal for bringing back that lost\nmoney to the family. If he is nice--I suppose he _is_ nice, though\nJulian doesn't like him at all--I expect he'll give me a bracelet, or a\nmuff-chain, or a----\"\n\n\"Do you really mean that?\" interrupted Alice, opening her eyes very\nwide.\n\n\"Of course! Why shouldn't I mean what I say?\"\n\n\"How rapacious you are, Amy.\"\n\n\"What a nasty word when I'm only sensible. What is the use of men if\nthey don't give us things?\"\n\n\"Douglas will give you all you want, dear. After all, you brought us\ntogether.\"\n\nThis diplomatic remark cleared the air and banished the frown from Mrs.\nBarrast's small-featured face. \"Of course I did. I saw that you two were\nmeant for each other the moment you set eyes on one another. I advised\nyou to get back your aunt's money by marriage, didn't I?\"\n\n\"You certainly did,\" admitted Miss Enistor dryly, not thinking it\nnecessary to explain that she loved Montrose for himself alone. \"What\nyou said has come true, Amy. Douglas desires to make me his wife, if my\nfather consents.\"\n\n\"Oh, bother your father,\" cried Mrs. Barrast vigorously. \"What does his\nconsent matter when you have hooked a rich man?\"\n\n\"Don't be vulgar, Amy!\" said Alice, wincing.\n\n\"And don't be romantic. You can't deceive me. Mr. Montrose is rich.\"\n\n\"I would marry him without a sixpence.\"\n\n\"So you will,\" rejoined Mrs. Barrast caustically. \"He has the sixpence,\nremember. I am glad, dear: you have played your cards well. Frederick\nwill be pleased. He likes Mr. Montrose immensely, and you a great\ndeal.\"\n\n\"I am glad he does,\" said Alice soberly, \"but don't say anything until\nwe hear from my father, Amy!\"\n\nIt was with some difficulty that Miss Enistor induced the little woman\nto be silent, for Mrs. Barrast was so immensely pleased with what she\ntook to be her own cleverness in bringing the matter to a favourable\nissue that she wanted to trumpet the news all over the place. There was\nno word now of impropriety or hasty wooing, for Alice let the butterfly\nthink that the match was quite of her own making, and the butterfly\nspread sheltering wings over the happy pair. She did not tell Frederick,\nand as Frederick was wholly occupied with politics he did not see what\nwas going on under his very nose. But with many mysterious becks and\nsmiles and significant looks, the little woman managed to intimate that\nshe was the fairy godmother of these particular lovers, whose romance\nwas rapidly progressing towards fulfilment. Thus she made everything\nsafe in a respectable way for Montrose to be constantly invited to\ndinner, and to be left alone with Alice more frequently than would have\nmet with public approval had he not been courting. The young man's\ngratitude showed itself substantially and took the form of several\npieces of jewellery, which the guardian angel was pleased to accept.\nEverything went as merry as a marriage bell, pending the reply of\nEnistor to Montrose's letter. That came four days after Alice had\nremonstrated with Mrs. Barrast for her shameless looting.\n\nMr. Enistor had written not only to Montrose but to his daughter with\nregard to the proposal, and when the two came together on this\nparticular evening, they let one another know immediately that the fatal\nmissives had been received. Luckily Mrs. Barrast, with a merry party,\nhad gone to the Empire Music Hall and would not return until late.\nMontrose, as usual, had provided the box, purposely having done so to\nrid himself of an inconvenient third. Frederick was at the House, so he\ncould not interfere, and Douglas had Alice all to himself in the large\ndrawing-room. Mrs. Barrast, for the sake of propriety, had made him\npromise to await her return and have supper. Therefore everything was\nnicely arranged, and when quite alone, the lovers sat together on the\nsofa and looked into one another's eyes.\n\n\"Now,\" said Alice breathlessly, \"the letters!\"\n\n\"Not just yet,\" replied Montrose, taking her in his arms, \"remember I\nhave not seen you for forty-eight hours!\"\n\n\"Oh, you foolish boy!\"\n\nAlice had some excuse for calling him so, although she liked the\nfoolishness he displayed immensely. He dropped on his knees, holding her\nwaist in his arms, and said all manner of delightful things, only\ninterrupting his speeches to kiss her again and again and again. What he\nbabbled need not be reported, as the talk of lovers, however pleasing to\nthemselves, is extraordinarily silly when repeated to others. But the\nsplendid glamour of love was over this pair, and what Douglas said\nsounded sublimely sensible to the girl, while the looks of Alice were\nthose of a goddess to her adorer. Yet Montrose was a common-sense young\nman, and Miss Enistor only a tolerably pretty girl. The misleading\npassion of love excused each regarding the other as a divinity. They\ncertainly did so and were as foolishly happy as Antony and Cleopatra\nwere in their day of power. And like those famous lovers they would have\nregarded the world as well lost for love.\n\n\"But really!\" cried Alice at last, recovering her reason first, which\nwas natural since she was a woman, \"we must be sensible.\"\n\n\"I think we are very sensible indeed.\"\n\n\"Other people would not think so.\"\n\n\"Why trouble about other people?\" replied Montrose, reluctantly getting\non his feet. \"There are no other people. You and I are alone in the\nworld.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I think we shall be unless my father consents,\" sighed Miss\nEnistor. \"Not that there will be any loneliness with you beside me,\" she\nadded.\n\n\"Darling!\" Then another kiss and embrace before settling down to more\nprosaic conversation. \"Tell me, dear, what does he say to you?\"\n\n\"Much the same as he writes to you, Douglas, I expect.\" Alice took the\nletter from her pocket. \"He is not angry as I expected he would be, and\nsays nothing about Don Pablo. All he desires--so he says--is my\nhappiness, and if he approves of you he is quite willing that we should\nmarry.\"\n\n\"If he approves of me,\" echoed Montrose, reading the paternal letter\nover Alice's shoulder, \"quite so. But suppose he doesn't approve?\"\n\n\"Don't try to cross the bridge until you come to it, Douglas. Why\nshouldn't my father approve, now that he evidently has given up his\nidea of my marrying Don Pablo? Has my father asked you down to Tremore?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" said Montrose, producing his letter in turn, \"how clever of you\nto guess that, dearest.\"\n\n\"I did not guess it, as you might have seen if you read my father's\nletter properly,\" said Alice quickly. \"He says that he has asked you\ndown, or intends to ask you down. I don't know which.\"\n\n\"Oh, here is the invitation,\" remarked the young man, waving his letter.\n\"Mr. Enistor says that before he can consent to place your future in my\nhands he must become well acquainted with me. He invites me to Tremore\nfor a visit of one month. In four weeks he hopes to give his decision.\"\n\nAlice disconsolately replaced her epistle in her pocket and watched her\nlover put away his communication. \"That doesn't sound very promising.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I think it does,\" said Montrose hopefully. \"I don't see what\nelse he could say if he entertains at all the idea of my marrying you.\nIt is only natural that he should wish to know what kind of a husband I\nam likely to be to his adored daughter.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Alice ironically, \"does my father call me that?\"\n\n\"Twice he calls you that in his letter.\"\n\n\"He doesn't mean it,\" the girl assured Montrose in a troubled way; \"my\nfather and I endure one another's society, but little love exists\nbetween us. The fault isn't mine, Douglas, as I was willing enough to\nlove him when I came from school. But father has always kept me at arm's\nlength, and hitherto my life has been loveless--save for Julian.\"\n\n\"Julian!\" There was a jealous note in the young man's voice. \"That is\nthe name of Mrs. Barrast's brother, is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes. I call him Julian and he calls me Alice.\"\n\n\"Confound his impudence!\" fumed Montrose angrily.\n\n\"No impudence at all, Douglas. Julian is my very good friend: nothing\nmore, I assure you. But if I had not met you, and if my father had\ninsisted upon my becoming Don Pablo's wife, I should have married\nJulian.\"\n\n\"Oh, Alice,\" in a tone of deep reproach, \"do you love him and not me?\"\n\n\"No. I respect him. If I loved him you would not now be sitting beside\nme.\"\n\nStill Montrose was not satisfied. \"Is he good-looking?\"\n\n\"Very; in a large stolid Anglo-Saxon way. He's an artist, but I don't\nthink one would call him clever except as a painter of pictures.\"\n\n\"I see that you don't love him,\" said Douglas, his brow clearing; \"but\ndoes Hardwick--that is his name, isn't it?--love you?\"\n\n\"No,\" rejoined Alice promptly, \"he thought that he did, but he really\ndoes not in the way a woman wants to be loved. He proposed and I\nrejected him on those grounds. Now he understands that I am right, and\nwe have settled to be great friends.\"\n\n\"All the same you said you would have married him if----\"\n\n\"If my father had insisted on my becoming the wife of Don Pablo,\"\ninterrupted Alice swiftly. \"Can't you understand, Douglas? I detest\nthis Spaniard, who is such a friend of my father, and of two evils I\nwas prepared to choose the lesser. I did not want to marry Julian any\nmore than I wanted to marry Don Pablo. But Julian is at least human,\nso----\"\n\n\"Isn't Don Pablo human?\" asked Montrose, interrupting in his turn.\n\n\"I don't believe he is,\" said Alice thoughtfully, \"there is something\ndreadfully wicked about him. I can't explain, but when you meet him you\nwill in some way guess my meaning.\"\n\n\"Humph! I shall certainly accept your father's invitation both to see\nthis Spaniard and Hardwick also.\"\n\n\"And you understand my position?\" urged Alice anxiously.\n\n\"Yes. I think I do. All the same I want you to assure me positively that\nyou love no one else but me.\"\n\n\"There is no need to tell you what you already know,\" returned the girl\nin a calm positive way. \"We are made for one another!\"\n\n\"Darling!\" he caught her in his arms, \"I know. But I hope your father\nwill think as we do.\"\n\n\"He means well,\" said Miss Enistor with a sigh of relief, \"or he would\nnot ask you down to Tremore.\"\n\nIt was at this interesting point in their interview that the lovers were\ninterrupted. The footman opened the door to announce Dr. Eberstein, and\nwhen that gentleman entered the room the servant promptly retired.\nMontrose came forward with a look of amazed inquiry, which was reflected\non the face of Alice. Both the young people were astonished by the\nunexpected appearance of the doctor.\n\n\"I thought you were still in Paris, Eberstein,\" cried Douglas, as his\nfriend shook hands with both.\n\n\"I arrived in London to-day!\"\n\n\"Why didn't you let me know?\"\n\n\"There was no need to. It was necessary that you should quite understand\none another before I came on the scene.\" Eberstein looked from one\nflushed face to the other with a smile. \"You do understand, I see.\"\n\n\"We are engaged,\" blurted out Montrose awkwardly.\n\n\"Then that means an understanding,\" said the doctor cheerfully, with a\nbenevolent look in his grey eyes. \"I hope it means also mutual trust.\"\n\n\"I am quite sure it does,\" cried Alice vehemently, \"nothing Douglas\ncould say or do would ever make me doubt him.\"\n\n\"And I would believe in Alice if all the world were against her,\" said\nthe young man decisively.\n\n\"That is good hearing,\" observed the doctor pleasantly, \"union is\nstrength.\"\n\n\"Every one knows that, don't they, doctor?\" said Miss Enistor rather\npertly.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" he replied, \"but few practise it. You wonder why I have come\nhere to-night. It is because you both need me. All seems to be sunshine\nat the present moment. You love one another devotedly: you think that\nMr. Enistor is well disposed towards your engagement----\"\n\n\"Oh!\" interrupted Alice, with a frightened look in her eyes. \"How do\nyou know that my father is aware of our engagement?\"\n\n\"The letters you received to-day----\"\n\nThis time Montrose interrupted, and there was a note of awe in his\nvoice. \"I believe you know everything, Eberstein.\"\n\n\"I know that you are invited down to Cornwall, so that Mr. Enistor may\njudge if you are the man he would choose to be his son-in-law.\"\n\n\"But how do you know?\" said Alice, startled. \"You make me afraid!\"\n\nEberstein took her hand and gazed directly into her eyes. \"Are you sure\nthat I make you afraid?\" he asked gently.\n\n\"Why, no!\" Alice felt the momentary fear vanish in an unaccountable way.\n\n\"And you trust me even though you have known me such a short time?\nRemember, you have only met me once, Miss Enistor.\" He loosened his\nsoft, reassuring grasp and leaned back in his chair.\n\n\"I do trust you,\" said the girl promptly, \"you have been kind to\nDouglas.\"\n\n\"Is that the sole reason?\"\n\nAlice stared at him doubtfully. \"It is the only reason I can give. No\none but a good man and a kind friend would have saved Douglas's life as\nyou did.\"\n\n\"Perhaps no, perhaps yes,\" said the doctor enigmatically, \"but I advised\nour friend here to keep Lady Staunton's money. My interest in him may\nnot be so philanthropic as you imagine it to be.\"\n\n\"Doctor!\" said Montrose indignantly, \"how can you talk so?\"\n\n\"Hush!\" Eberstein threw up his hand. \"I want Miss Enistor to speak.\"\n\n\"What can I say but that I trust you? I am sure there is some good\nreason why Douglas should keep my aunt's money. You would not have\nadvised him to keep it otherwise.\"\n\n\"But if your father pointed out that he should have enjoyed the fortune\nand that I wish Montrose to keep it so that I can make use of the money\nthrough him? What then?\"\n\n\"Still I must believe in you and trust you,\" persisted Alice steadily.\n\"My father does not want the fortune.\" Eberstein smiled slightly. \"Oh, I\nassure you he does not. He has said nothing about it. As to doubting\nyou, doctor, he does not know you.\"\n\n\"He will some day and then he may doubt me. Remember when he does and\ntries to turn you against me that I have foretold the possibility of\nsuch a warning. You say you will trust me. Good! I accept the assurance.\nMontrose?\"\n\n\"I believe in you now as I always have done,\" said the young man\neagerly. \"I don't understand why you are talking in this way, though.\"\n\n\"You don't understand many things at present,\" said Eberstein dryly;\n\"when you do, pain will come with the knowledge. Necessary pain. Go to\nCornwall and meet Mr. Enistor. While the sun still shines you will not\nsee me. But when dark clouds obscure the light, then I shall be at your\nside.\"\n\n\"You will come to Cornwall?\" asked Alice quickly.\n\n\"When the need arises.\"\n\n\"Will it arise?\"\n\nEberstein looked from one to the other quietly. \"Yes! The need will\narise.\"\n\n\"What need?\" demanded Montrose, bewildered.\n\n\"Enough for the day is the evil thereof,\" said Eberstein serenely, \"and\nthat also applies to the good. All is well with you as yet, so enjoy the\npassing moment and draw from peace the necessary strength for conflict.\nGold must be refined in the fire, and you must both be cast into the\nfurnace. Yet be not afraid. The same God who saved Shadrach, Meshach and\nAbednego will save you. You are neither of you afraid,\" he ended\npositively.\n\nArm in arm the lovers stood and they glanced at one another as the\ndoctor spoke. \"We are not afraid,\" they declared simultaneously, and\nspoke the truth.\n\n\"Behold then,\" said Eberstein solemnly, \"how great is Love which can\ncast out fear!\" and over them he made the holy sign.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nIN CORNWALL\n\n\nIt was August when Alice returned home. As soon as her father learned\nthat she had become engaged to Montrose, he sent for her. Now that the\nmouse had entered the trap there was no need for the girl to remain in\nLondon and spend money. Mrs. Barrast was sorry to lose the companionship\nof Miss Enistor, not only because she liked her as much as one of her\nshallow nature could like any one, but for a more selfish reason. With\nAlice departed Montrose, and although he did not go immediately down to\nCornwall, he scarcely came near the house in Hans Crescent. Thus Mrs.\nBarrast was deprived of the many presents which she loved to receive.\nHowever, she had done very well, and made the best of her loss, since\nthe girl's visit, because of Montrose's love-making, had not been\nunprofitable to her. Mrs. Barrast was very affectionate when Alice\ndeparted, and made her promise to return when she became Mrs. Douglas\nMontrose. Alice readily consented, for though Amy was vain and selfish,\nyet the fact that the love-romance had taken place beneath her roof made\nthe girl regard her as a most excellent friend. All the same she was not\nsorry to return to Cornwall, as she was weary of the frivolous London\nlife.\n\nIn the railway train Alice became quite depressed. She was coming back\nto dreary Tremore, to her father's uncongenial society, and perhaps to\nthe unpleasant attentions of Don Pablo. But on this latter point she\nwas reassured by her father's letter. Although he had not quite\nconsented to the marriage with Montrose, and would not consent until he\nhad seen the young man, yet, in the face of his half-approval, he\ncertainly would not allow her to be troubled by Don Pablo. Certainly the\nSpaniard had great influence with the squire of Polwellin, and might not\nbe inclined to surrender the girl whom he desired to make his wife. But\nDouglas, as Alice reflected, would soon be on the spot, and he would\ndeal with Narvaez, if the old man became troublesome. On the whole,\ntherefore, even though matters were a trifle unsettled, Alice concluded\nthat the new life would be better than the old. At all events she would\nnot be quite so lonely, and that was something. Of course Dr. Eberstein\nhad predicted trouble, but also he had agreed to come down when the\ntrouble arrived. This comforted the girl not a little, as she had the\ngreatest confidence in Montrose's friend. Why, she could scarcely say,\nas she knew next to nothing about him. But his mere look, let alone the\ntouch of his hand, was enough to make her feel strangely brave and\nhappy. If Don Pablo was all evil, Dr. Eberstein was all good. Yet why\none should be this and the other that, Alice could not tell. Doubtless,\nas Douglas had suggested, Eberstein could have enlightened both on this\npoint. But he had not done so, and beyond warning them that they could\ncount upon his help in the trouble which was surely coming, he had said\nvery little. Therefore, these two young people had to walk by faith, and\nvery bravely did so.\n\nAt Perchton, which was the nearest station to Polwellin, Alice quite\nexpected to find her father waiting for her, since, little as he loved\nher, he must surely be anxious to see how she looked after her long\nabsence. But Mr. Enistor was not on the platform, and Alice with a\nrather forlorn feeling alighted from her compartment. In London she had\ngrown accustomed to love and attention, so the neglect of the present\nmoment brought on her depression again. But that vanished in a trice\nwhen a strong hand took the small bag she was carrying, and a strong\nvoice sounded in her ears.\n\n\"Here you are at last,\" said Julian brightly. \"I have been waiting for\nnearly an hour, Alice.\"\n\n\"Oh, Julian!\" she took his hand, to press it warmly. \"I am so glad you\nare here. I was feeling quite dismal because father has not come to meet\nme.\"\n\n\"I thought you would be. Yesterday I asked him if he intended to come to\nPerchton, but as he said that he had no time I came in his stead.\"\n\n\"And left your painting. How good of you.\"\n\n\"Not at all. We are brother and sister, are we not?\"\n\n\"I don't think many brothers would take so much trouble to be kind to\ntheir sisters,\" said Alice brightly. \"Did father send the carriage?\"\n\n\"No. One of the horses is laid up. But a friend of mine has a motor, so\nI made him lend it to take you to Tremore. Where is your baggage?\"\n\n\"Oh, I must look for it in the van and get a porter and----\"\n\n\"You'll do nothing of the sort,\" interrupted Hardwick quickly, \"go and\nsit in the motor; there it is. I can see to your boxes. How many?\"\n\n\"Two large and one small,\" said Alice, and gladly settled herself in the\nvery comfortable vehicle, while Julian went back into the station.\n\nShortly he returned with a porter and the boxes were duly placed on the\nmotor. Julian stepped in beside the girl, and a word to the chauffeur\nsent the splendid machine humming down the narrow street like a giant\nbee. Then the two had time to look at one another, and Julian approved\nof the girl's appearance. Love had made her blossom like a rose. She was\nless ethereal than she had been, and the sad look on her delicate face\nhad vanished. Also, as Mrs. Barrast had attended to her frocks, and had\nintroduced her to Madame Coralie, the girl was singularly smart and\nattractive as regards clothes. A smile was on Julian's face as he looked\nat her.\n\n\"You went away a duckling and you return a swan,\" he said.\n\n\"Oh, what a doubtful compliment,\" said Alice gaily; \"am I then, or\nrather was I, an ugly duckling?\"\n\n\"No, my dear, you were never an _ugly_ duckling, but what I mean is that\nyou have turned from a fairy into a pretty nymph.\"\n\n\"That is better,\" said Miss Enistor graciously, as the motor whizzed out\nof the town and began to climb the long winding road to the moors. \"You\nare improving, Julian. But you don't ask me how I have enjoyed myself.\"\n\n\"There is no need. Your appearance speaks for you.\"\n\nAlice laughed. \"Do you think that my looks are due simply to a short\nseason of pleasure in London?\"\n\n\"Well, not exactly,\" rejoined Hardwick in his stolid way; \"in fact,\nseeing that you have been staying with Amy, I expected you to look more\nfagged than you do. Amy makes a toil of pleasure and is certainly a very\nwearing woman to live with.\"\n\n\"She is a dear,\" said Miss Enistor warmly, \"and has been most kind. But\nyou are right about her feverish pursuit of pleasure,\" she said, with an\nafter-thought. \"Amy never rests!\"\n\n\"And never lets any one else rest, which is worse,\" said Julian grimly;\nhe looked at her sideways. \"Yes! Mere London pleasure cannot account for\nyour happy looks. Well, let me know who he is!\"\n\n\"Let you know who he is?\" repeated Alice, blushing and looking prettier\nthan ever, \"do you mean----\"\n\n\"I think you know what I mean. You are in love at last.\"\n\nLike a woman Alice did not reply directly to the remark. \"Are you very\nangry, Julian?\" she asked, laying a timid hand on his arm.\n\n\"My dear, I am not angry at all. We are brother and sister, you know.\nLong ago I discovered that you were right as to my proposal and I was\nwrong. All that I could do for you was to accept the situation of your\nfuture husband if Don Pablo insisted upon marrying you. But I presume I\ncan now resign that position,\" ended Hardwick gravely.\n\n\"He is called Douglas Montrose,\" said Alice, still evasive.\n\n\"A very pretty name for Prince Charming. Yes, your father mentioned to\nme that the young man had written to him, and he also mentioned that\nMontrose is the fortunate person who has inherited Lady Staunton's\nmoney. So Amy got her own way, as I knew she would. An inveterate\nmatchmaker is Amy.\"\n\nAlice opened her eyes widely. \"Did you guess then?\"\n\n\"Not so much guess as know,\" replied Hardwick composedly. \"Amy wrote\nabout her desire that you should become Mrs. Montrose.\"\n\n\"And you?\"\n\n\"I was pleased, of course. Amy told me how deeply you loved the man.\"\n\n\"She could not tell that for certain,\" pouted Alice doubtfully.\n\n\"I am not so sure of that. Women are proverbially clever and shrewd in\nanything that has to do with love-making. However, it seems she was\nright: your bright eyes and crimson cheeks tell me as much.\"\n\n\"I may as well confess that I love Douglas,\" admitted Alice boldly, \"and\nhe loves me. Already we have asked father's consent to our marriage.\"\n\n\"He will give it without doubt, Alice. It is a happy way of getting back\nthe lost money.\"\n\n\"Oh the money! the money!\" she cried petulantly; \"you talk just as Amy\ntalks, Julian. As if I cared for money. I love Douglas, and if he were a\npauper I would marry him. And my father has not jumped at the chance of\ngetting back the money, as you seem to think. He won't say yes and he\nwon't say no.\"\n\n\"He must say something,\" remarked Julian, with a shrug.\n\n\"Nothing. He refuses to give his decision until he knows more about\nDouglas.\"\n\nHardwick nodded. \"That is natural and sensible. So the young man is\ncoming to Tremore to be put through his paces?\"\n\n\"How clever of you to guess that. He is--in a few days. Oh, how anxious\nI feel, Julian. So much depends upon my father.\"\n\n\"He will consent, I am sure, Alice. With such a disposition as you have,\nyou could choose no one but a really good man for your husband.\"\n\nAlice laughed a trifle bitterly, which was strange considering her\nprospects and happy state of mind. \"Goodness or badness matter very\nlittle when one is in love, Julian. And they do not matter at all to my\nfather so long as I marry a rich man. It is a good thing for me that\nDouglas has plenty of money, for only in that way will things run\nsmoothly for both of us. Otherwise I feel certain that my father would\nstill insist upon my marrying Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"Humph!\" said Hardwick meditatively. \"The question is, 'Would Don Pablo\nmarry you?' my dear girl.\"\n\n\"He is supposed to be in love with me,\" said Alice, puzzled. \"You know\nhow he has bothered me, Julian.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I know. But there is Rose Penwin, you know, that fisherman's\npretty daughter.\"\n\nAlice turned to look at him in astonishment. \"What about her?\"\n\n\"Se\u00f1or Narvaez has taken an unaccountable admiration for her since you\ndeparted for London.\"\n\n\"Unaccountable!\" Miss Enistor's lip curled. \"There is nothing\nunaccountable in any man admiring a pretty girl, and Rose is more than\npretty!\"\n\n\"She is,\" said Hardwick calmly. \"Pretty is not the word to apply to a\nbeautiful and stately woman such as Rose Penwin is.\"\n\n\"Brunhild or Brynhild--what do you call that Norse goddess you said you\nso admired until you met me?\"\n\n\"I never admired any Norse goddess,\" said Hardwick, laughing. \"I simply\nquoted Brynhild as a type. Yes, Rose Penwin is of that type, but I am\nnot in love with her.\"\n\n\"Don Pablo is?\"\n\n\"So I am given to understand from village gossip. You know I chatter\nfrequently to the fishermen and their wives. Well, Don Pablo has been\npaying great attention to Rose; giving her presents and----\"\n\n\"Does she accept his attentions?\" interrupted Miss Enistor, astonished.\n\n\"Yes and no. She does in a way, as she wants to make Job Trevel\njealous!\"\n\n\"Job Trevel,\" said Alice thoughtfully; \"to be sure! He is my\nfoster-brother, Julian, as I told you how Dame Trevel brought me up. But\nI thought it was understood that Rose was to marry Job.\"\n\n\"Too thoroughly understood,\" said Julian dryly. \"It seems that Job is so\ncertain of Rose that he does not trouble to pay her those pretty\nattentions which a lover should. Thus, to make him jealous, Rose\npretends to accept the attentions of Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"That old mummy. He can't even feel love.\"\n\n\"No! I agree with you there, and I am puzzled to know what his game is.\nWhy should an old man of eighty run after a girl of nineteen?\"\n\n\"He ran after me and bothered me enough, as you know,\" said Alice in a\nthoughtful manner. \"He must be mad. Yet I do not think a madman would\nor could exercise such an influence over my father. However, Job\ncan scarcely be jealous of Se\u00f1or Narvaez, who might be Rose's\ngreat-grandfather.\"\n\n\"He is jealous, however. Don Pablo is wealthy and Rose likes pretty\nthings, you know. She may not love the old reprobate: she could not. All\nthe same the prospect of unlimited money----\"\n\n\"Oh, nonsense!\" broke in Alice vigorously, \"she would not be so wicked.\nIf I see anything of her treating Job badly I shall speak to her. I am\nvery fond of my foster-brother even though he has a bad temper.\"\n\n\"All the worse for Don Pablo if he has,\" said Hardwick significantly.\n\"Rose is playing with fire. Love on one hand, wealth on the other: which\nwill she choose, do you think? I assure you, Alice, that there are the\nelements of a tragedy in these things.\"\n\n\"It may be all imagination on your part,\" said the girl after a pause,\n\"and in any case, if Don Pablo now admires Rose, he will leave me alone,\nand my father will have no excuse to forbid my marrying Douglas.\"\n\nJulian wrinkled his brow disapprovingly. \"Isn't that a selfish way of\nlooking at the matter?\"\n\n\"It is! It is!\" acknowledged Alice with sudden compunction. \"Love does\nmake one selfish, Julian.\"\n\n\"Yet love should have the opposite effect, my dear girl. You usually\nhave such a high standard that it seems strange you should fall short of\nit in this way. But you have been with Amy, and although she is my own\nsister, even a short time in her company does harm. She is not bad--I\ndon't mean that, Alice: but Amy is excessively selfish and she seems to\nhave contaminated you in some way.\"\n\nAlice grew scarlet, as never before had Julian dared to speak to her in\nthis reproving style. Yet she felt that he was right, and took no\noffence. \"I am glad you have said what you have said, Julian. I should\nnot have spoken as I did. It was narrow and selfish, as you say. I must\nthink of others even if love for Douglas fills my heart. I shall see\nDame Trevel and Job and in some way I shall learn the truth. You may be\nsure that I shall do what I can to put matters right between Rose and\nJob.\"\n\nHardwick patted her hand. \"That is spoken like the trump you are, Alice,\nmy dear. I knew that you were not thinking of what you were saying. As\nyou are in love, there is some excuse----\"\n\n\"No! No! Don't weaken your good advice, Julian. There is no excuse for\none to fall short of one's standard. Your warning has done me good. You\nare a dear kind boy, and if I had not met Douglas----\"\n\n\"You would have loved me,\" ended Hardwick, smiling. \"No, dear, don't\ndeceive yourself. If we had married we should have been comrades, but\nnever man and wife in the true spiritual sense. The marriage made in\nheaven is the only true marriage. You said something of that sort when\nyou refused me. How entirely right you were, Alice!\"\n\nThe girl looked at him with a whimsical look in her eyes and wondered at\nhis simplicity. \"What a child you are, Julian. Nine women out of ten\nwould take offence at such a cool assurance that your love for me has\nperished.\"\n\n\"Probably,\" returned Julian composedly, \"nine women out of ten are dogs\nin the manger, but you, my dear Alice, are the tenth. I shall be glad to\nsee Montrose. Tell me all about him.\"\n\n\"That is difficult,\" said Miss Enistor absently, \"let me think for a\nmoment.\"\n\nJulian could not see why it should be difficult for a young girl in the\nfirst delicious phase of a perfect passion to talk to an intimate\nfriend, such as he truly was, of her feelings. But he did not understand\nwhat was passing in Alice's mind. Her wooing was of so unusual a\ncharacter, and had so much to do with psychic matters concerning which\nHardwick knew nothing, that it was hard to explain the swift love which\nhad drawn her and Douglas together. For one moment she hesitated, and\nthe next decided not to speak. Julian would not understand, and she\nevaded a direct answer to his question by a truly feminine subterfuge.\n\"I would rather you judged Douglas for yourself without looking at him\nthrough my eyes. He will be here in a few days and then you can give me\nyour opinion.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Julian in his usual stolid way, \"perhaps you are right!\"\nafter which calm acceptance of the situation he became silent.\n\nWhile the two young people had been talking, the car had pursued its way\ntowards Tremore steadily and swiftly. Along the winding white roads it\nglided, with the spreading no-man's-land of purple heather on either\nside. How Alice loved it all; the vast moorlands sprinkled with grey\nblocks of granite; the tumbled steepness of black cliffs; the\nfar-stretching spaces of the gleaming ocean and the life-giving winds\nthat breathed across the limitless lands. For the moment she wondered\nhow she had ever endured the narrow, muffling London streets, with their\ntwice-breathed airs and garish lights. Like a thing of life the great\ncar swung untiringly along, and the landscape widened out at every turn\nof the road. She felt as though she had come out of a stifling cavern\ninto a spacious world, and flung out her hands in ecstatic greeting to\nthe majesty of Nature. Reborn through love into a wider consciousness,\nthe girl's seeing and hearing now embraced an appreciation of much to\nwhich she had been formerly deaf and blind. Sound seemed sweeter, colour\nmore vivid and life dearer. There was a feeling of spring in the\nautumnal air, and Alice felt that she wished to dance and sing and\ngenerally rejoice out of sheer lightheartedness.\n\n\"I am made one with Nature,\" she exclaimed, thrilling to the beauty of\nland and sea. \"Doesn't Shelley say something like that in 'Adonais'?\"\n\n\"I never read poetry,\" replied Julian stolidly. \"To my mind poets only\nsay in many words what a journalist says in few.\"\n\n\"What a pagan sentiment,\" cried Miss Enistor gaily, \"and how untrue. Oh,\nthere is Tremore!\"\n\nAssuredly it was, and the grey house looked more sinister than ever in\nthe pale sunshine. It placed its dark spell on Alice, for as the\nmotor-car breasted the hill, her gay spirits left her and she became as\npale as hitherto she had been rosy. With wonderment and regret Julian\nsaw again the wan girl who had left for London weeks before, and\nanxiously inquired if she felt ill.\n\n\"No,\" said Alice, rousing herself with an effort from the lethargy which\nhad fallen on her. \"I feel quite well, but less full of vitality than\nwhen I arrived at Perchton. It is the idea of Tremore, I think,\" she\nshuddered. \"You know what a gloomy house it is.\"\n\n\"Montrose will dispel the gloom when he arrives,\" suggested Hardwick.\n\nAlice brightened. \"Oh, I am sure he will. But how nice of you to say\nthat. You are not a bit jealous.\"\n\n\"I believe you are annoyed because I am not, my dear girl,\" laughed the\nartist.\n\n\"Julian, how can you say such a thing?\" she replied absently; then added\nin a markedly irrelevant manner, \"I hope father will be glad to see me.\"\n\nMr. Enistor may have been glad, but he certainly did not appear at the\ndoor to show his gladness. Alice's boxes were taken into the house, and\nJulian departed in the car, declining to enter, on the plea that father\nand daughter would have much to say to one another. Alice did not seek\nto stay him. She felt chilled by the absence of welcome and the sombre\natmosphere of the big house. The beaten space of ground upon which it\nstood seemed to isolate it from the warm laughing world of vivid life,\nand she entered with the feeling that she was descending into a vault.\nNor did the greeting of her father tend to dissipate this impression of\ndismay. He received her in the library with a cold kiss and without\nrising from his chair.\n\n\"Well, Alice, how are you?\" He looked at her keenly as she stood by the\ntable, white and frozen into silence. \"Your stay in town does not appear\nto have done you much good.\"\n\n\"Oh, I feel all right,\" said the girl, with an effort to be her true\nself.\n\n\"You don't look all right,\" snapped Enistor, rather disappointed. \"After\nall the money you have spent you certainly should have a more healthy\nappearance. H'm! I think I understand,\" he paused a moment, then added\nbitingly, \"your new lover has disappointed you. Is that it?\"\n\n\"No!\" Alice roused herself to offer a protest. \"Douglas is all that I\ncan wish, father.\"\n\n\"I hope for your sake that he is all _I_ can wish. If he isn't I shall\ncertainly not allow you to marry him. There is always Don Pablo to----\"\n\nAt this speech Alice did wake up and a colour flushed her cheeks. \"Don\nPablo, if I am to believe Julian, has fallen in love with Rose Penwin.\"\n\n\"I didn't know that Hardwick was such a gossip,\" said Enistor coolly.\n\"As to falling in love, Narvaez is much too sensible a man. He admires\nthe girl for her beauty and has given her several presents of jewellery.\nAt Don Pablo's age no one can object to that.\"\n\n\"Job Trevel can, and Job Trevel does.\"\n\n\"More gossip,\" sneered Enistor. \"Your artist friend appears to have\ninformed himself accurately of the situation. But it matters nothing to\nyou or to me, since neither of us has any right to interfere with Don\nPablo's likes or dislikes. You are the one he loves, Alice.\"\n\n\"I thought you said a moment ago that he was too sensible to fall in\nlove!\"\n\nThe Squire shrugged his shoulders. \"I meant in the silly way of boys and\ngirls. Narvaez' love is of a deeper and more spiritual kind. He admires\nRose as a beautiful girl; he adores you as a soul.\"\n\n\"I don't want his adoration!\" said Alice wearily, for it seemed hard\nthat the usual wrangling should begin the moment she returned home.\n\n\"You prefer Montrose's adoration no doubt. Well, I have no objection so\nlong as I approve of the young man and he does what I want.\"\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"He must restore the money which your aunt left him.\"\n\n\"I thought you did not care for the money, father?\"\n\n\"I care very much indeed for the money, although I have never emphasised\nthe fact. Only because he has it did I even consider the possibility of\nyour marrying him. I should much prefer you to be Narvaez' wife.\nHowever, we shall see when the young man arrives. Meantime you had\nbetter lie down as you seem to be worn out by your journey. It's waste\nof money to send you away.\"\n\nAlice bit her lips to keep back her tears and breathed a prayer that\nEberstein should help her to throw off the deadly influence of the\nhouse. Even as she did so the relief came, and she felt a wave of\nvitality run through her body. The weary, languid sense of utter\ndesolation left her; the colour returned to her cheeks, the brightness\nto her eyes and the strength to her whole being. Enistor saw the statue\ncome to life, and in place of a wan, weak girl beheld a living,\nbreathing woman, very much alive. He stared amazed.\n\n\"What has come to you?\" he demanded, startled and puzzled.\n\n\"Love,\" said Alice quietly, \"love and life instead of hate and death!\"\n\nEnistor quivered, since he knew that the first mentioned forces were at\nwar with himself and his dark Master.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE SPIDER AND THE FLY\n\n\nAlice returned to her home with the feeling that she was entering a\nhostile city. The atmosphere of the house was inimical, charged with\ndisintegrating forces, which strove to break up and scatter her\nprotective power. That the power came from Dr. Eberstein she was now\nperfectly certain in her own mind, as she had experienced his help so\nplainly when she arrived. Before her visit to London, Enistor had so\ndominated her with his cold cynicism and cruel insistence that he had\nalmost entirely conquered her will. She had been like a bird in the\ncoils of a serpent, and only absence had enabled her to regain her\nfreedom. In surroundings less charged with deadly evil, the girl had\nrecovered the youthful spirits which were her rightful heritage, and the\nunifying influence of Montrose's love had strengthened her considerably.\nTherefore, when fear again threatened to control her, she had been able\nto assert herself, but, on reflection, she felt positive that the\nattempt would have been vain had she not mentally appealed to Eberstein.\n\nWhy she had thus called upon him for help she scarcely knew, as she was\nignorant of matters connected with the occult. All she did know was that\nthe doctor had always soothed her with his serene strength when she was\nin his presence, and half unconsciously she had wished for him to be\nbeside her when the insidious evil which overshadowed Tremore had surged\nround her to paralyse and control. Eberstein had not come himself, but\nhis power had, and like an impassable wall it had fenced her in from\ndanger. The hint that such help was obtainable in such a manner was\nenough for the girl. She persistently and particularly dwelt upon\nEberstein's powerful personality, and whenever uncomfortable feelings\nassailed her, she swiftly imagined that he was close at hand to defend\nher. Also she constantly visualised the image of her lover, knowing that\nhe was willing to lay down his life for her safety, and this in a lesser\ndegree filled her with life and strength. If Enistor on his daughter's\nreturn doubted that the visit to London had done her good, he had no\nreason to doubt afterwards. Alice recovered, as by magic, the brightness\nof her eyes and the roses of her cheeks. She went about the dark house\ngaily and hopefully busy with domestic affairs, always cheerful and\nmerry even to the extent of singing while at work. It might be thought\nthat Enistor was glad to see how the girl had recovered her spirits and\nhad benefited by the change. But in place of showing satisfaction, he\ngloomed and glowered in high displeasure.\n\n\"There is less chance than ever of our gaining authority over her,\" he\ncomplained to Narvaez, when on a visit to the magician's cottage. \"We\nnearly controlled her before she left for London, but now her resisting\nstrength has increased tremendously.\"\n\n\"It is not her own strength that defends her,\" replied Don Pablo\nquietly.\n\n\"Then it is the strength of love awakened by Montrose. You might have\nknown, Master--you who have such means of obtaining knowledge--that\nthere was that risk when I let her go to Mrs. Barrast's.\"\n\n\"I am not omnipotent and omniscient,\" answered the old man dryly. \"Great\nas is my power, there are still many things beyond my control. I implied\nas much when I told you that the present situation is the outcome of the\npast. You know the Law of Karma--the Law of Cause and Effect--the Law of\n'As ye sow so shall ye reap,' which governs the evolution of the present\ncreation, and knowing so much, you should not be surprised that we are\nmastered by it as are all beings. Sooner or later Alice was bound to\ncome into contact with our enemies.\"\n\n\"Who are they?\"\n\n\"Dr. Eberstein and Douglas Montrose!\"\n\n\"Alice told me how she had met Eberstein and how much she liked him. But\nshe gave me no hint that he was an enemy.\"\n\n\"How could she, seeing she does not know,\" retorted Narvaez sharply.\n\"Eberstein is the White Magician, against whom I warned you weeks ago.\nHe is coming down here soon, as I prophesied he would. And Montrose also\ncomes. We were all together in Chaldea five thousand years ago, and\nthere engendered causes which have to be worked out in the flesh to-day.\nWhy do you blame me for Alice going to London?\"\n\n\"She has gained strength by going there and meeting these men. You\nshould have warned me.\"\n\n\"I warned you as much as I could,\" snapped Narvaez, acridly sharp, \"but\nI could not prevent the inevitable. Alice had to meet them, and the\nloss of that money under the will which left it to Montrose was the\nmeans used to bring them together. All I could do, being impotent under\nthe Karmic Law, was to so arrange matters that Montrose might be brought\ndown here along with Dr. Eberstein. That I have managed and now comes\nthe tug of war. You are by no means a satisfactory pupil, Enistor, as I\nhave again and again to explain matters which you already know.\"\n\n\"Then I take it that Eberstein has already declared war by bringing\nMontrose and Alice together?\"\n\n\"The Great Law did that. Eberstein's declaration of war is the help that\nhe is giving Alice to withstand the influence we strive to bring to bear\nupon her. For the moment, as you saw, she nearly relapsed into her\nformer condition when she returned from her visit. But her intuition\ntold her to call upon her guardian Eberstein and the help came. Her\ninnocence protected her before: now she has the more powerful protection\nof love, both from Montrose in a personal sense, and in an impersonal\nway from Eberstein.\"\n\n\"Is he very powerful?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" grinned Narvaez with a look of hate in his cold blue eyes. \"He\nfollows the Right-hand Path of Love, and has the universal power behind\nhim. You and I on the Left-hand Path of Hate possess only a portion of\nthat power.\"\n\n\"In that case it seems impossible to conquer,\" said Enistor\nirresolutely.\n\nThe Satanic pride of Don Pablo rose in arms against this insinuation.\n\"Eberstein will find me no mean adversary,\" he snarled. \"I shall fight\nand fight to the last. Already the fly in the person of Montrose has\nwalked into my parlour.\"\n\n\"Oh! So you are the spider?\"\n\n\"Yes! And I shall devour Montrose if I can. Already I have made my plans\nand started my work by paying attentions to that silly Rose Penwin, thus\narousing the jealousy of Trevel.\"\n\n\"But I don't see----\"\n\n\"Never mind what you see,\" interrupted Narvaez impatiently. \"Leave me to\ndo what I intend to do, and then Eberstein will not find it easy to save\nMontrose, in spite of his power.\"\n\n\"But if he has more power than you----?\"\n\n\"Can't you understand?\" cried Don Pablo, exasperated. \"Montrose and\nAlice both have free-will. Eberstein can guide and coax; he cannot\ncommand. If the two yield to Self, then we triumph.\"\n\n\"And if they renounce Self?\"\n\n\"Then we fail. But be of good cheer. Neither is yet so strong as to have\nentirely conquered the animal self, and that will fight in each for its\nexistence. What you have to do is to play the courteous host, to permit\nthe engagement of Alice and Montrose: then leave the rest to me.\"\n\nThis was only one of many conversations which Enistor had with his\nMaster, while awaiting the arrival of his guest. He could not quite\nunderstand the situation, and Narvaez declined to explain further than\nwas in his opinion necessary. All Enistor knew was that Montrose was to\nbe trapped in some way, and that Don Pablo's courting of Rose Penwin\nwith gifts had to do with the trapping. Contented with this knowledge,\nthe man was markedly amiable to his daughter, and Alice felt nervously\nsurprised by the unusual attention which her ordinarily indifferent\nfather paid her. Formerly she had, with some reason, dreaded the\nsinister influence emanating from him, but now seeing in his\ndemonstrations of affection a sign that he truly loved her, she\nregretted her possible misjudgment. In many ways she attempted to show\nher appreciation of the miraculous change from blame to praise, and on\nthe whole found domestic life at Tremore unexpectedly pleasant.\nNevertheless the natures of father and daughter clashed at odd moments,\nand it was only by constantly acting parts they did not truly feel that\nthey could keep things smooth. More than ever did Alice long for the\narrival of Montrose, so that she could display her true nature and\nexercise her true love.\n\nEnistor's unnatural complaisance extended to Hardwick, as, now that he\nwas aware of the artist's rejection, he did not forbid his visits.\nJulian guessed that the Squire merely tolerated him, and simply came to\nTremore on all and every occasion to aid Alice, since he knew that she\nwas something of an alien in her home. His host was always pointedly\nagreeable, and so--strange to say--was Don Pablo. The dark dour old man,\nfor some hidden reason, appeared to take a great interest in the artist.\nAs he had formerly neglected him in every way, Julian was puzzled to\nknow why he should be thus honoured. Not liking Narvaez, he did not\nreciprocate this belated amiability, and always escaped with Alice on\nto the moors when it was possible. He trained her to observe the\nbeauties of Nature, and opened her eyes to a more glorious world of form\nand colour. Alice accepted such behaviour with sisterly thankfulness,\nand looked upon him as a large comfortable Newfoundland dog, able to\nprotect and please her. Therefore the young people found life very\npleasant, and all was sunshine for the moment, as Eberstein had\npredicted. That more glorious sunshine would come with her lover's\narrival Alice knew very well, but she never forgot that clouds would\nsooner or later overshadow the summer sky, although she could not see in\nwhich quarter they would arise. A vague feeling, however, intimated that\ndisaster would come with Montrose, and that her belief in his love would\nbe severely tested. Nevertheless, she looked forward to his arrival,\nknowing that Eberstein would follow him shortly. And in the doctor she\nhad the most implicit confidence, assured that whatever sorrow descended\nupon her or her lover, Eberstein would guard them and help them in every\nway. Also there was Julian upon whom she could rely in the hour of her\nneed. The suspense indeed was unpleasant, but Alice fought it with\nprayer and high thinking, girding herself as it were with armour of\nlight against the time when the Dark Powers would assault the citadel of\nher being. But in her innocence she was ignorant, save from the hints of\nEberstein, that an assault was intended.\n\nAt length came the golden day when Douglas was to arrive, and Alice\nrejoiced to receive a letter stating that the young man would leave\nLondon by the early morning train at five o'clock. At half-past three\nhe would be at Perchton, and there Julian was to meet him in his\nfriend's motor-car which he had again procured, so that Montrose might\nbe with Alice as speedily as was possible. Enistor, indeed, mindful of\nDon Pablo's injunction to be courteous, had offered to send the\ncarriage, but Alice, anxious that some swifter method should be found to\nbring her lover to her longing arms, had accepted the offer of Julian.\nShe did not go to the Perchton station herself, but waited a mile beyond\nPolwellin village in a green nook beside the high road for the happy\nmoment. Hardwick had purposely arranged to bring the lover to Tremore,\nas he was anxious for the sake of the girl's happiness to see what was\nthe nature of the man she had chosen to be her husband, and deemed that\nhe could discover the same more easily when Alice was not present.\nApparently his reading of Montrose's character was satisfactory, for\nwhen the car came swirling round the corner, Alice saw that the two\nyoung men were chatting together as if they had known one another for\nyears. Of course when Alice was espied waving her hand on the green hill\nabove the nook, the car was stopped on the dusty white road, and equally\nof course Montrose jumped down to run like a deer up the ascent. In\nanother moment she was in his fond arms, and heart was beating against\nheart. Neither could speak, so full of joyful emotion was the moment,\nand guessing this, Julian told the chauffeur to drive on. With some\nastonishment the couple saw the motor slipping round the bend of the\nroad, through the village, and up towards Tremore, bearing the\nportmanteau of Montrose. They were alone in the purple world amongst\nthe gorgeous coloured bracken, which was vivid with autumnal tints. The\nsun was just sinking and the glory of its rainbow hues bathed them in\nopal lights.\n\n\"That is one of the nicest fellows I ever met,\" said Montrose, when the\nfirst surprise at Julian's prompt action was over. \"And he is so\nsensible. He knew I wanted to be alone with you at the first\nopportunity.\"\n\n\"Julian is always considerate,\" said Alice gaily.\n\n\"You call him Julian--Mrs. Barrast's brother?\" said Montrose jealously.\n\n\"Dear,\" she took him by the lapels of his coat and looked into his dark\neyes. \"Of course I call him by his Christian name. I told you about\nJulian in London. How he proposed to me: how I refused him, and how we\nare now like brother and sister. There is no need to be----\"\n\nMontrose stopped her mouth with a kiss. \"Don't say the word. I am a\nfool,\" he said penitently. \"I remember what you said in Town. And\nHardwick is a brick; a really true, honest-hearted fellow. I like him\nimmensely. And--and--oh, we have so much to talk about, Alice, that we\nneed not waste the time in discussing Hardwick, even though he is so\ndecent.\"\n\nAlice quite agreed with this sentiment, so the two started to climb the\nhills on their way to Tremore, and talked all the way of near and dear\nmatters so necessary and interesting to lovers, and so dull when a third\nperson overhears. They went over their meeting in Hans Crescent,\nrecalled what he had said and what she had replied; explained how each\nhad been hungry for this precious moment of meeting and punctuated the\nenthralling conversation with frequent kisses. And as the magical light\ndied out of the western sky, they conversed on graver subjects which had\nto do with some vague thought of evil coming to them both. Montrose\nexplained how he had seen Eberstein shortly before leaving London.\n\n\"He sent for me yesterday,\" said the young man, fumbling at his breast,\n\"and gave me this, which he said was necessary for my protection.\"\n\n\"Your protection,\" echoed Alice with a sudden qualm, and she stared at\nthe small golden heart swung on a thin golden chain, which Montrose had\nproduced unexpectedly. \"Why should you want protection, Douglas?\"\n\n\"Ah, that I cannot truly say. But I am so accustomed to obey the doctor\nimplicitly that I did as he asked me and wear this amulet round my neck.\nHe has always a reason for what he does, Alice. Remember, dear, he said\nplainly that our sunshine would not last for ever,\" ended Montrose\ngravely.\n\n\"There is to be a period of sorrow, I know,\" murmured Alice, nestling\nclose to her lover's side. \"But with Dr. Eberstein's help we shall come\nout of the darkness into the light once more. I don't know what he\nmeans,\" she added after a pause. \"Why should sorrow come?\"\n\n\"I have an idea that it has something to do with our meeting in former\nlives, Alice, and that we have enemies to encounter and conquer.\"\n\n\"Don Pablo very likely.\"\n\n\"I think so, although I am not sure.\" Montrose spoke dreamily,\nremembering his wonderful vision and the warning of Eberstein. \"We must\nwatch and pray, dear, for, more or less, we are moving in the darkness.\nThis will aid us,\" and he held up the talisman, which glittered in the\nsunset rays.\n\n\"But how can that golden heart help?\" asked Alice disbelievingly.\n\n\"You only see the exterior, dear. It holds,\" Montrose made the sign of\nthe cross on his breast, \"a portion of the Host, as Dr. Eberstein told\nme, and is therefore powerful against evil. I called it an amulet:\nrightly, I should have said a reliquary. Look, dearest!\"\n\nThen a most wonderful thing happened. The two had reached the shade of\nthe wood surrounding Tremore, and had halted on its verge in a spot\nwhere the sunlight could not penetrate. But as Alice stared at the\ngolden heart it blazed as a star with a far more brilliant light than\nany she had ever seen before. In a flash of thought she knew that her\ninterior senses had been opened by the mightiest influence on earth. She\nwas looking through the sheath of metal at the very Host itself in its\nsupernal aspect, radiant, glorious, wonderful, holy. \"Oh!\" she breathed\nin a hushed voice and bowed her head reverently.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked her lover in surprise, for her expression was\nangelic.\n\n\"Do you not see the light that is brighter than the sun?\"\n\n\"No,\" he whispered nervously, and seized her hand, like a child seeking\nfor the comfort of a mother's touch. \"Where is the light?\"\n\n\"It is gone now.\" Alice passed her disengaged hand across her brow. \"It\ndisappeared when you touched me. When you held up that heart it shone\nlike a marvellous star of splendour.\"\n\nThen Montrose understood. \"You have seen the Power itself,\" he murmured,\nand with trembling hands restored the reliquary to his breast. For the\nmoment what Alice had seen shook him to the core of his being. \"How\nglorious to be able to see through the veil even for a single moment.\nBut why should you not when it is said, 'Blessed are the pure in heart,\nfor they shall see God'?\"\n\nLike children they clung to one another on the borders of that dark\nwood, and it was some time before they could proceed. The sacred light\nthey felt was yet around them, and would act as a shield against all\nevil. That it did so far as Alice was concerned was certain, for while\nwalking under the yews amidst the heavy darkness, her sense of\nprotection was unusually strong. Not so Montrose, for even though he\ncarried the reliquary, he was less sensitive to its helpful influence\nthan the girl who was more attuned to spirituality. It might be that\nwith him the preponderance of earthly desires placed him more in touch\nwith the lower planes than with the higher, but undoubtedly he felt\nstrongly the tremendous pressure of the evil around him. And when the\ntwo halted on the verge of the beaten ground, barren of herb and flower,\nthe house of hate bulked largely, silent, black, brooding and menacing.\n\n\"Alice, how can you live here?\" demanded Montrose, grasping her hand\ntightly.\n\n\"You feel it also?\" she whispered, \"that sense of doom and dread?\"\n\n\"I feel the power that rends and tears and parts asunder: the\ndisintegrating force of Chaos, which is necessary for creation before\nCosmos--the Cosmos of Love can be formed!\" and unconsciously he gripped\nher hand with crushing force, so great was the emotion which stirred\nhim.\n\n\"Douglas, you hurt me,\" cried the girl, writhing.\n\n\"Oh, forgive me,\" he descended to the commonplace and tenderly kissed\nthe pained finger. \"But the feeling of dread was so strong that I forgot\nwhat I was doing. There,\" he kissed her hand twice, \"is it better,\ndarling?\"\n\nAlice laughed. \"You are a child,\" she said, advancing towards the house.\n\nHer lover sighed. \"We are all children, I think. Afraid of the dark.\"\n\n\"There is no darkness where God is, dear. Think of God and the light\ncomes.\"\n\n\"You are nearer to the Great Spirit of Love than I am,\" said Douglas,\npeering nervously into the gloom. Then he made an effort to throw off\nthe still persistent influence of evil. \"Let us get into the lamplight.\"\n\n\"Come then,\" said Alice, and stepping into the porch, she laid her hand\non the handle of the door. Immediately, as by magic, it retreated from\nher fingers, and the portal swung wide to reveal Enistor on the\nthreshold, dimly seen in what light still radiated from the fading\nsunset over the heavy tree-tops.\n\n\"I heard your voices,\" he explained genially, \"and knew that our guest\nhad arrived. Welcome to Tremore, Mr. Montrose.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir, oh, thank you,\" replied the young man, reassured by\nthis reception and warmly clasping the hand extended to him.\n\nAs he did so a strong feeling of repulsion possessed his mind with\noverwhelming force, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from\nwrenching his hand away. Not that there was any need for the action on\nhis part, for Enistor actually translated the thought into swift doing,\nand loosened his grip, to stand back with a startled look. Without doubt\nthe same repugnance at the same instant of time obsessed the older man,\nbut, less self-controlled, he had been unable to prevent the unfriendly\naction. In the twilight each man strove to see the face of the other,\nbut it was impossible to distinguish clearly. In shadows they met as\nshadows.\n\nIt was Alice who broke the spell of confused hatred, as, in spite of her\nclairvoyant faculty, she was apparently ignorant of the thunder in the\nair.\n\n\"I am sure you will be glad to have tea, Douglas. Is it in the library,\nfather?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" muttered Enistor, regaining his self-control by a powerful\neffort, and with that one word he led the way into the lamplight.\nDouglas followed arm in arm with the girl, feeling that but for her and\nall she meant to him he would have escaped immediately from the grim\nhouse and its unseen owner.\n\nIn the mellow radiance which flooded the library Enistor beheld a slim\nand delicate man with the dreamy face of a poet. Scorning himself that\nsuch a stripling should cause him even momentary dread, and despising\nhim as one of the enemies indicated by Narvaez, the Squire became\ngood-naturedly tolerant. During tea-time he behaved courteously, and\nproved himself to be a genial and hospitable host. But Montrose was\nmarkedly silent, as his repulsion increased immediately he caught sight\nof that dark and powerful countenance. Also in his heart there lurked an\nuncomfortable fear that Enistor was in a position to injure him in some\ninexplicable way. It was not physical fear, for Montrose was a brave\nman, but a hateful influence which seemed in some way to paralyse him.\nWhy this should be so he was naturally unable to guess, but the desire\nto fly the neighbourhood of an implacable foe was so strong that it took\nhim all his strength to resist the desire for an ignominious retreat.\nBut for Alice's sake he did so resist, as her gracious presence enabled\nhim to bear the strain with some equanimity. Therefore, as he had been\ntrained by Eberstein to control his feelings, he drank and ate in quite\na conventional manner. Alice, still ignorant of the hatred with which\nher father and her lover regarded one another, presided over what was\noutwardly a merry little meal, chatting and laughing in a smiling and\nwhole-hearted way, as though she had not a care in the world. As indeed\nshe had not for the moment.\n\n\"I fear you will feel dull here, Mr. Montrose,\" said Enistor, formal and\ncold.\n\n\"Oh, father, what a compliment to me!\"\n\n\"My dear, we are quiet folk at Tremore, you must admit.\"\n\n\"I like quietness,\" said Montrose, smiling, \"and would much rather be\nhere than in London. And of course with Alice----\"\n\n\"It is paradise,\" ended Enistor cynically. \"You have the usual\nstock-in-trade of pretty phrases which lovers delight in. Well, we must\nsee what we can do to amuse you. I am usually busy myself, but Alice can\nbe your guide to the few sights of the neighbourhood. You can ride a\nhorse, or a bicycle, and drive in the carriage or dog-cart. There is a\ntennis-lawn at the back of the house and golf-links in Perchton. Then\nyou can go sketching on the moors with Mr. Hardwick and Alice; or Job\nTrevel will take you out fishing. Mr. Sparrow, the vicar of Polwellin,\nwill show you the church and cromlechs and rocking-stones and other such\nthings, as he is something of an arch\u00e6ologist. We can have music and\nbridge and conversation in the evenings, and----\"\n\n\"Stop! Stop!\" interrupted Montrose, now more at his ease, as he saw that\nthe Squire was endeavouring to make himself agreeable. \"It would require\nsix months to do all these things. I shall enjoy myself immensely,\nespecially if you will introduce me to Se\u00f1or Narvaez.\"\n\n\"What do you know about him?\" asked Enistor sharply, and frowning.\n\n\"All that Alice and Hardwick could tell me. He seems to be a very\ninteresting man, and an unusual character.\"\n\n\"He is original,\" assented Enistor quickly, \"so much so that he does not\nchoose to know every one. However, as he is my very good friend I\ndaresay I shall be able to induce him to meet you here. You will find\nhim very interesting indeed,\" ended the Squire significantly, and he\nstared hard at Montrose, wondering if he guessed how the Spaniard\nregarded him.\n\nBut the young man, having nothing to conceal, and quite innocent of Don\nPablo's enmity towards him, met the Squire's gaze with a forced friendly\nsmile. \"I like interesting people,\" he said amiably. \"And I hope you do\nalso, Mr. Enistor, as my friend Dr. Eberstein is coming to Perchton\nshortly.\"\n\n\"I shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours,\" replied the elder\nman in a formal way, and then rose to leave the room. He felt that he\nhad done enough as host for the time being and wished to be alone, so\nthat he might send mental messages to Narvaez about the new arrival.\n\"You will excuse me until dinner-time, Mr. Montrose. Alice will\nentertain you.\"\n\nWhen the Squire departed Alice did her best in the way of entertainment,\nbut found it difficult to banish the thoughtful look from her lover's\nface. Pleading fatigue, the young man soon sought the room assigned to\nhim, and pondered over the odd distaste which the sight of Enistor\ninduced. He could not account for it, and wished that Eberstein would\nappear to elucidate the problem. Across his mind flashed insistently the\nquestion of Ahab, \"Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?\" and the deadly\nanswer of Elijah the seer, \"I _have_ found thee!\" Much as he loved\nAlice, he felt that the situation was uncomfortable and perplexing and\nquite beyond human explanation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nSMALL BEER CHRONICLES\n\n\n\"The emphasis of the soul is always right!\" says Emerson, meaning\nthereby that the immediate feeling which individuals have for one\nanother at first sight is a hint from the divine within them as to\nwhether they should be friends or foes. This subtle impulse is never\nfelt again, as self-interest and custom gradually blunt the spiritual\nperceptions, and those who cross each other's path behave as worldly\ncircumstances bid them. And naturally so, for whenever the desires of\nthe animal-self come into operation, the more latent powers of the\nHigher-Self are obscured. Therefore, he is the wise man who accepts the\nemphasis of the soul as guidance in the choice of friends and in the\ndoing of deeds. Because men, influenced by selfishness, do not follow\nsuch a lead, their path in life becomes much more complicated than it\nneed be. They hear the blatant trumpeting of desire: not the still small\nvoice of conscience.\n\nNot being particularly metaphysical, Montrose was ignorant of this\nsafeguard, and did not heed the warning of danger given at his first\nmeeting with Enistor. That schemer, better informed, accepted the\nknowledge that here was a foe to be wary of. It would have been\nsurprising had he not done so, as apart from the hatred which sprang\ninto lively being at the first touch of hands, Narvaez had spoken\nplainly, and moreover Montrose was the detestable person who had secured\nLady Staunton's fortune. To regain it and allow the Spaniard to execute\nhis dark designs, Enistor masked his hatred under a fine show of\ncourtesy, behaving with such apparent sincerity that Douglas was\nentirely deceived. As the days slipped by and there was no change in the\ngracious attitude of his host, he grew to like him, to admire him and to\nenjoy his companionship. This was little to be wondered at, as Enistor,\nbeing well-read and well-bred, could make himself extremely agreeable\nwhen he chose to do so. For obvious reasons he did so choose, and so did\naway with the mysterious repulsion of the first meeting that it became\nonly a dim memory to Montrose. At the end of seven days the visitor\npersuaded himself without any great difficulty that Enistor was a most\nexcellent man, an agreeable friend, and one likely to prove an ideal\nfather-in-law. Alice was relieved to see that the two men got on so well\ntogether, and more than ever decided that she had deceived herself with\nregard to her father's true character.\n\n\"You have, I think, bridged the gulf between us,\" she explained one\nSunday morning, when with Montrose she was descending the hill to\nPolwellin church. \"Father and I never got on well until you came.\"\n\n\"Dearest, your father's character takes time to realise,\" was the prompt\nreply. \"He looks stern and is of a reserved nature. But when one comes\nto know him he has a sweet kernel for all his rugged rind. At first I\ndid not think we should get on well together, but that was a mistake.\nHe's a ripping fine chap, and as good as they make 'em.\"\n\n\"Do you like my father for his own sake or for mine?\" asked Alice\ndoubtfully.\n\n\"For both sakes,\" rejoined the young man positively. \"And seeing that I\nam here to rob him of his dearest treasure, I think he is behaving\nwonderfully.\"\n\n\"H'm!\" murmured Alice, not wholly agreeing with this valuation. \"Are you\nso sure? Father looks at me in a different way from what you do.\"\n\n\"Naturally. It is a different kind of love. From what you said, I quite\nexpected to find your father a bear and a tyrant. Instead of being\neither he is delightful in every way. I don't think you are quite fair\nto him.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" the girl was still undecided. \"He has altered much since you\ncame, Douglas. You have brought the best out of him. He is more human.\nAll the same----\" she stopped abruptly.\n\n\"Well then--all the same?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" said Alice abruptly, and passed swiftly into the church,\nwhere further speaking was out of the question, much to her relief.\n\nWhat she had meant to say and did not say was concerned with an\nuncomfortable under-current of thought regarding her father's surprising\nattitude. Owing to the relationship between them it was difficult to\njudge him impartially; yet Alice wished to do so, if only to satisfy her\nown conscience. Remembering the man's lifelong indifference and coldness\nand utter want of consideration, the girl left that this aggressive\namiability was assumed for some purpose. What that purpose might be she\ncould not conjecture, unless it had to do with the recovery of the\nfortune which she now knew he had not lost with equanimity. But even if\nthe marriage with Douglas took place, it was hard to see how her father\nhoped to benefit, and she knew from experience that he did not hold with\naltruism. Filial sentiment made her strive to please him on the forced\nassumption that in spite of appearance he really did love her. But\nsomehow she could not convince herself that such was the case. He was\nacting the affectionate father as she was acting the affectionate\ndaughter, yet she did not think that he believed in her any more than\nshe believed in him. It was all very difficult and very disagreeable.\n\nIt was useless to discuss the matter with Montrose, and for this reason\nshe had ended their conversation by entering the church. The young man\nand her father had become excellent friends, and he would never believe\nthat Enistor was anything but what he presented himself to be. In fact,\nDouglas had told her very plainly that she had misjudged her father, and\nher own surface-thoughts implying that such was the case inflicted a\npang. But intuition scouted the idea of misjudgment. As one human being\nadjusting herself to another human being she knew how to act, but as a\nchild striving to understand her parent she was quite bewildered.\nFinally, she decided that the only thing to be done was to accept the\nsituation as her father wished it to be accepted, if only for the sake\nof peace and quietness. The Squire was willing to permit the marriage,\nand was doing his best to be agreeable to his future son-in-law. Nothing\nelse mattered for the moment. Having arrived at this sensible\nconclusion, Alice compelled herself to attend to the service.\n\nIt was by no means an interesting one, as there was a want of warmth and\ncolour about it which reduced the whole to a monotonous repetition of\nfine phrases. The vicar was a thoroughly good man, earnest and\nself-sacrificing, but with so moral a temperament that he entirely\nfailed to understand sinners. And not understanding them he was unable\nto give them that sympathetic help which a practical experience of\ntemptation teaches. He would scold a wrong-doer with great anger--box\nhis ears so to speak--not because he was a bad-tempered man, but for the\nsimple reason that he could not see the sin from the wrong-doer's point\nof view. As Mr. Sparrow said again and again, he did not want to run\naway with his neighbour's wife; he did not desire to drink too much, or\nto cheat, or to swear, so why--he asked plaintively--should his\nparishioners desire to do such uninviting things? By this inborn\nobtuseness he missed his aim, as he invariably attempted to bully\nignorant wrong into becoming enlightened right without necessary\nexplanations. Naturally those he genuinely tried to help resented a\nprocess which robbed them of their self-respect, and which gave them no\nlogical reason for doing other than their crude desires bade them.\nTherefore while some remained members of the church, and accepted\necclesiastical scoldings stolidly as part of the burdens of life which\nthey were called upon to bear because they could not help the bearing,\nothers took refuge in the beer-shops and rejected all authority. Also,\nthere were a few who joined Nonconformist sects of the democratic type,\nwhere the congregation controlled the preacher, and turned him out if\nhis views were unsatisfactory to their narrow understandings. The\nresult of these things was chaos, and Mr. Sparrow lamented that he had\nto deal with such stiff-necked people. Yet had he been able to explain\nreasonably what he taught, and had he possessed the tact to coax instead\nof bullying, he would soon have reduced the whole parish to order.\n\nAs a matter of fact in one way the vicar was better than his religion:\nnot that his religion was not true and helpful, but because he knew it\nonly externally, and taught by the letter rather than by the spirit. In\nthe first lesson he read about the angry and jealous God of the Jews,\nand in the second declared the everlasting Love of the Father, Who sent\nHis beloved Son to suffer for His children. Naturally the congregation\ncould not understand such a contradiction, and Mr. Sparrow did not\nexplain, because he did not understand himself. Therefore on Sundays he\nwas rather a failure, while on week-days he was highly successful. The\nfishermen and their wives could comprehend a parson who helped them in\ntheir small needs and talked kindly to them, and shared their joys as\nwell as their sorrows. But what they could not comprehend was the priest\nwho tried to bully them into seeking a vague state of existence, which\nto them appeared to be vapour and moonshine. They wanted proofs, or at\nleast reason, and they got neither.\n\nIn his sermons Mr. Sparrow told those who listened drowsily that if they\nwere black with sin, they would go to hell: if they kept innocently\nwhite, they would arrive in a dreamland heaven: but he made no provision\nfor the grey people. And as the majority of the congregation, if not\nthe whole, belonged to the third category, being neither particularly\ngood nor particularly sinful, the alternatives did not interest them\nmuch. Those in church adopted various attitudes, said certain words,\nsang certain tunes, and went through a set ceremony, with a vague idea\nthat it was all necessary somehow to arrange matters for a vague future.\nWhen Montrose came out he commented on their orderly behaviour, and\nutter ignorance of what it all meant.\n\n\"Though of course,\" he added truthfully, \"there were some who understood\nmore than the rest. Still, what a clockwork ceremony!\"\n\n\"Oh, but, Douglas, the liturgy of the Church of England is very\nbeautiful.\"\n\n\"The most beautiful the mind of man can conceive,\" he admitted readily.\n\"What can be more glorious than the Litany, which includes all possible\npetitions that mortals can offer. Said understandingly nothing can be\nmore helpful.\"\n\n\"Mr. Sparrow read it beautifully, and the responses were made\ncorrectly.\"\n\n\"Oh yes! But I missed the living spirit. It was all words, repeated\nparrot-fashion by the majority--I don't say all--of those present.\"\n\n\"But what can the vicar do, Douglas? You know how dull the people are?\"\n\n\"They are children, more or less stupid,\" said Montrose with conviction,\n\"and can grasp very little. Since Mr. Sparrow teaches them to love God\nand love their neighbour, he is doing all that he can do. But he could\ncolour the greyness of his sermon: he could speak in parables as the\nMaster did. Then he would arrest their attention, and some ideas, if\nput picturesquely, would stick in their minds. A man will forget a\nseries of admonitions if stated baldly: he will certainly remember some\nif connected with a story.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Alice doubtfully. \"But Mr. Sparrow is a really good\nman.\"\n\n\"Isn't that rather irrelevant?\" observed the young man dryly. \"I quite\nadmit that he is a good man. It is not his fault that the Church has\nlost her esoteric knowledge, which was reserved for the intellectual,\nwho wished to believe with the head as well as with the heart. But he is\nonly a sample of many parsons. His intentions are of the best, but he\ndoes not speak with conviction to my mind.\"\n\n\"He is a true believer,\" urged the girl, rather distressed.\n\n\"I am sure he is everything that is genuine and kind,\" replied her\nlover, a trifle impatiently. \"But he lacks that wisdom which comes from\nlogical reasoning on the things he discourses about.\"\n\n\"But can religion be proved logically?\"\n\n\"Certainly; but only when one knows the esoteric teaching which the\nChurch had, but which the Church has lost. Eberstein has taught much of\nit to me during the last three years, and there are few questions\nconnected with religion and the Bible which I cannot answer in at least\na reasonable way. Go to Mr. Sparrow and he will assure you that half the\nquestions you ask are a mystery into which you must not pry. What is the\nresult, Alice?\"\n\n\"I'm sure I can't say,\" she answered good-humouredly.\n\n\"The result is,\" continued Montrose, growing more vehement, \"that\nwhenever a man begins to think, he leaves the Church from sheer\ninability to gain the information which is needed to reconcile what is\ntaught with common sense. Only the people who don't think, who are\nChristians because they happen to have been brought up Christians,\nremain in the Church, and accept emotionally and blindly whatever is\ntold them on ecclesiastical authority. That, when examined, is no\nauthority at all to the thinking man.\"\n\n\"And the inner teaching?\"\n\n\"It gives a perfectly reasonable and logical explanation which proves\nthat the exoteric teaching is true. I believe all that the Church sets\nforth save the one word 'eternal' before the one word 'hell.' But then I\nknow why I believe and can defend my belief in a most positive manner,\nso that any man with common sense must admit the logic of my arguments.\nThink if the parsons knew of this teaching, and gave it out, how the\nchurches would be thronged. People are not irreligious nowadays. There\nnever was a time when men and women wished to know about the truth more\nanxiously than they do to-day. But they go to those in authority and are\ngiven a stone in place of bread.\"\n\n\"Why will not the parsons take this teaching?\"\n\n\"I cannot say. It changes nothing they teach outwardly, save the\nhorrible doctrine of eternal punishment, and gives back to all in a\nrational and convincing way the faith they are gradually losing. Yet the\nChurch goes on blindly repeating the same things Sunday after Sunday,\nuntil they have lost their force. The inner teaching would revive that\nforce, if accepted, and the Church would be able to fulfil her true\nmission, which is to lead civilisation. As it is, her children will not\nstay with her. Pain is forcing the most advanced souls to try and\nunderstand the problems of existence, and this understanding the\nesoteric teaching gives, as I have proved myself. But the Church should\nbe the teacher: not pain, which comes from ignorance.\"\n\n\"But these fishermen and women would only be bewildered if they sought\nto understand the problems of life in the way you do.\"\n\n\"Of course: because I am at a higher point of evolution. But what they\nare I was, and only pain drove me to acquire further knowledge, as pain\nwill drive them in future lives. What Mr. Sparrow teaches them is all\nright: they are satisfied with bread and do not desire cake. But what I\nmaintain is that the vicar should know more, and then he could do more\ngood with his simple instruction by luring them on to think D E F as\nwell as A B C. However, he is a good man and does his best according to\nhis lights, and that is well. I daresay he is an interesting man when he\ntalks arch\u00e6ology, because that is his hobby and he is sincere.\"\n\n\"Oh, Douglas, I am sure Mr. Sparrow's religion is sincere.\"\n\n\"I am sure it is,\" assented Montrose quickly. \"But his understanding is\nso limited that he is unable to make religion interesting. And believe\nme, Alice, that since I met Eberstein and learned what religion really\nis, I find it the most interesting thing in the world. I know little as\nyet, as I learn but slowly. Still I am beginning to grasp the great\nscheme of the present creation, and it is so glorious and beautiful that\nI shall never rest until I understand it sufficiently to take a\nconscious part in it, and do the work appointed to me as Douglas\nMontrose.\"\n\nAlice was silent. What her lover said was beyond her understanding, as,\nsave some discussions with the limited Mr. Sparrow, she had never talked\nabout such great subjects. Her father never spoke of religion and never\nwent to church, so she really only knew what the vicar could teach her.\nSo far as that went all was well, but she sometimes yearned for a fuller\ncomprehension of creation and for reasonable explanations of life's\nriddles. From what Montrose had said it seemed likely that he could\nteach her what she wished to know, and that Eberstein, to whom he had\nreferred, could teach her more when the time came. Her face glowed at\nthe idea and she felt anxious to be instructed at once. But by this time\nthey had wandered down the path to the beach, below the black cliffs,\nand her lover was talking of other things. She therefore left theology\nalone for lighter conversation, and approved of Montrose's appreciation\nof the beauty which clothed sea and land.\n\n\"What a lovely place, Alice. I am sure the fairies dance on these yellow\nsands in the moonlight.\"\n\n\"Of course they do,\" said Alice, now talking on a subject about which\nshe knew a great deal. \"Fairies really exist, you know. Se\u00f1or Narvaez\ncalls them Nature-spirits. He showed me some one day.\"\n\nMontrose turned on her in surprise. \"Are you clairvoyant?\"\n\n\"Yes! Se\u00f1or Narvaez says so!\"\n\n\"And does he know anything about clairvoyance?\"\n\n\"A great deal. So does my father. They both take an interest in such\nthings, you see, and study them.\"\n\n\"And you?\"\n\n\"Oh, I know very little, save what information Don Pablo has given me.\nHe says that my clairvoyant faculty must be trained before it can be of\nany use.\"\n\n\"True enough. Eberstein told me also that clairvoyance must be trained.\nBut is Se\u00f1or Narvaez the man to train it?\"\n\n\"He knows much about the unseen, Douglas.\"\n\n\"I should not be surprised to learn that what he does know is of the\nworst, Alice,\" said Douglas dryly. \"There is something evil about that\nman. I have only met him twice and each time I was uncomfortable in his\npresence. He is like a snake, a toad--a--a--oh, any noxious animal. And\nto think that he wanted to marry you. I never heard of such insolence.\"\n\n\"He means well,\" said Alice soothingly.\n\n\"I doubt it. Anything he means is to his own advantage. I shouldn't be\nat all surprised to learn that he was a Brother of the Shadow, since he\nknows about unseen things.\"\n\n\"A Brother of the Shadow?\"\n\n\"So Eberstein tells me Black Magicians are called.\"\n\n\"But are there really such men?\"\n\n\"Yes. There are White Magicians and Black. They both have acquired\nsuper-physical powers the same in essence, acting differently when used\ndifferently. Good men use them to help: bad men use them to hurt. Just\nlike dynamite, you know, dear. You can use it for a good purpose to blow\nup rocks blocking a harbour, or for a bad one to destroy life. But the\nthing itself and the action of the thing are the same. How did you see\nthese fairies?\"\n\n\"Nature-spirits,\" insisted Alice quickly. \"Oh, one day when I was on the\nmoor Don Pablo came along. He told me about them and I did not believe\nin such things. Then he took my hand, saying I was clairvoyant. In some\nway his touch or some power which he poured into me opened\"--Alice was\npuzzled how the experience could be explained--\"opened a third eye, as\nit might be. I don't know exactly how to put it, but in some way I\nsaw----\"\n\n\"Saw what?\"\n\n\"Little men and women on the heather. Some were playing and others were\nat work. The ground I sat on was alive with them. Yet when Don Pablo\ntook his hand away, the third eye closed and they vanished. But of\ncourse they were still around me, though I could not see them. I told\nJulian about pixies and nixies, and he laughingly said that it needed\nthe eye of faith to see them. I daresay that was my third eye. Do you\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"Perfectly. Eberstein has explained some of these things to me. And I\nhad an experience----\" Douglas broke off abruptly, remembering that the\ndoctor had asked him to say nothing about his vision. \"Well, it doesn't\nmatter. But I quite believe that the veil can be lifted, or perhaps--a\nbetter way of putting it--the veil can be seen through.\"\n\nIt was lucky for Montrose that Alice's attention was distracted at the\nmoment, as she might have pressed him overhard to relate his experience.\nAnd as she had her full share of feminine curiosity, she would not have\nbeen put off with evasive replies. But at the rude jetty a boat had\narrived and in the boat was a tall girl, whom Miss Enistor recognised at\nonce. She told Montrose to stay where he was and ran down the slope to\nspeak with Rose Penwin. The reason why she did not want Douglas to\naccompany her was obvious.\n\n\"Oh, Rose, why have you not been up to see me?\" asked Alice, when the\ngirl moored her boat to the jetty and stepped ashore.\n\n\"I have been too busy, miss,\" replied Rose, smiling, and showing a set\nof very white teeth. \"Did you want me?\"\n\n\"It's about Job Trevel.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Rose flushed and drew herself up. \"What's he been saying?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I haven't seen him. But people are talking, Rose.\"\n\n\"Let them talk,\" retorted the girl sullenly. \"If I'd a shilling for\nevery bad word they say of me I should be rich.\"\n\nAlice looked at her in pained silence. Rose was a magnificent-looking\nwoman, tall and stately, highly coloured and beautiful. With her black\nhair and black eyes and perfectly moulded figure, she looked the\nembodiment of a sea-goddess. Also her dress was picturesque, with a\ntouch of colour here and there pleasing to the eye. But what Alice\nlooked at most was a snake bracelet of Indian workmanship in silver\nwhich clung round her right wrist. \"Do you think it right to let Don\nPablo give you such presents?\"\n\nRose flushed still deeper and her eyes flashed with anger. \"He might be\nmy grandfather,\" she snapped in a savage manner.\n\n\"But he isn't,\" replied Alice earnestly. \"Oh, Rose, you know how\nhot-blooded Job is. And if you give him cause to be jealous----\"\n\n\"I don't care if he's jealous or not, miss. The likes of me is a sight\ntoo good for the likes of him.\"\n\n\"But he's an honest man----\"\n\n\"So is Don Pablo, and what's more he's a richer man. If he was young I\nwouldn't let him give me things. But whatever they may say, an old\ngentleman like that don't mean no harm. Besides, I haven't said yes to\nJob.\"\n\n\"But you will say yes.\"\n\n\"That depends upon how Job behaves himself, miss. I'm not going to have\nhim glowering and swearing as if I was doing something wrong, which I\nain't. And begging your pardon, miss, I don't see what you've got to do\nwith it.\"\n\n\"I don't want to see you get into trouble,\" said Alice indiscreetly.\n\nRose flashed round furiously. \"Who said I was going to get into trouble?\nI like pretty things, and if an old gentleman gives them to me, where's\nthe harm, I should like to know?\"\n\n\"Job's jealousy----\"\n\n\"Let him keep it to himself,\" interrupted Rose, who was in a fine rage.\n\"I ain't his wife yet to be at his beck and call. And perhaps I never\nshall be if it comes to that. Don Pablo says that a girl like me would\nmake plenty of money in London as an artist's model: or I might go on\nthe stage.\"\n\n\"I think Don Pablo should be ashamed of himself to poison your mind in\nthis way,\" burst out Alice, angry in her turn. \"Don't be a fool.\"\n\nInherited respect for the Squire's daughter kept Rose within bounds, but\nfor the moment she looked as though she would strike Alice. With an\neffort she turned away, biting her lip and clenching her hands. \"I'll\nforget myself if I stay, miss. You'd best keep away from me!\" and before\nMiss Enistor could stop her she fairly ran up the path past Montrose on\nher hurried way to the village. Douglas turned to stare after the flying\nfigure, and wondered what Alice had said to send the girl away with such\nwrath depicted on her face.\n\nAt the same moment as Rose disappeared Alice heard a deep male voice\nspeaking to her, and turned to see Job clambering up on the hither side\nof the jetty. He was a tall, bulky, powerful man, with red hair and keen\nblue eyes, handsome and virile in a common way, and exhibited a strength\nwhich appealed to every woman for miles around. At one time it appealed\nto Rose, but since Don Pablo had poisoned her mind she had risked an\nunpleasant exhibition of that strength by her coquettish behaviour. Job\nlooked dour and dangerous, and there was a spark in his blue eyes.\n\n\"I heard what you said, Miss Alice,\" he remarked, drawing a deep breath.\n\"I was under the jetty waiting for her coming. But when you spoke to\nher I thought I'd just wait to hear if she'd listen to sense.\"\n\n\"It doesn't seem like it, Job,\" said Alice sadly, and looked with\ndistress on the splendid figure of her foster-brother.\n\n\"No, it don't, miss,\" he responded gloomily. \"She's got the bit between\nher teeth, she has. It's all that foreign devil, begging your pardon for\nthe word, Miss Alice. I'd like to strangle him.\"\n\n\"Don't be silly, talking in that way, Job. It's dangerous.\"\n\n\"It will be for him, if he don't sheer off,\" muttered the man\nvengefully.\n\n\"Job, you know quite well that Don Pablo is an old man: he must be\neighty if an hour. You can't be jealous of him.\"\n\n\"But I am, Miss Alice, and it ain't no good saying as I'm not. What\nright has he to give her presents and talk about taking her to London?\nI'll break his neck if he goes on with such talk.\"\n\nAlice tried to defend the Spaniard, not because she thought he was\nacting rightly, but for the simple reason that she wished to talk Job\ninto a calmer state of mind. At the moment the man was dangerous. \"Don\nPablo only admires Rose as a beautiful woman,\" she urged.\n\n\"Then he shan't. No one shall admire her but me. And if he wants to\nmarry, Miss Alice----\"\n\n\"Oh, nonsense,\" she broke in. \"Why, he's too old.\"\n\n\"Well, they did say as you were going to marry him,\" retorted Trevel\ncoolly.\n\n\"I am going to do nothing of the sort,\" cried the girl, stamping her\nfoot. \"I think you should be more sensible than to suggest such a\nthing.\"\n\n\"I didn't suggest it,\" said Job stolidly. \"But the Squire wants----\"\n\n\"I don't care what the Squire wants,\" interrupted Alice, with another\nstamp. \"People say things they have no right to say. You are my\nfoster-brother, Job, and I allow you more licence than most. But you\nmust never speak to me in this way again.\"\n\n\"I didn't mean any harm, Miss Alice, and my heart is sore.\"\n\n\"Poor Job!\" Alice became sorry for the big man. \"You do suffer, and Rose\nought to be ashamed of herself to cause you such pain. Get her to marry\nyou at once and laugh at Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"She won't. He's got her fair under his thumb, Miss Alice,\" said Trevel\ngloomily. \"I hate him, and so does everyone else. He's the only man as I\never heard the parson have a bad word for. There's something about that\nforeign chap,\" Job clenched a huge fist, \"as makes you want to squash\nhim like a toad.\"\n\nAlice nodded comprehendingly. \"All the same you must do him no harm, or\nyou will get into trouble. And remember, Job, that I am your\nfriend\"--she gave him her hand--\"and to prove it I shall tell you what\nwill please you. I am engaged to that gentleman over there--Mr.\nMontrose.\"\n\nTrevel shook the hand heartily and his face grew good-natured. \"I'm fair\nglad of it, miss. I've seen the gentleman and like the gentleman. He's\nbeen down in the village with Mr. Hardwick, as we like also. As to that\nforeigner, miss--ugh!\" Job scowled and turned away, while Alice went\nback to Douglas.\n\n\"I have been trying to reconcile two lovers, but I have failed,\" she\ntold him.\n\n\"What is the cause of the quarrel?\" asked the young man, amused.\n\n\"A dangerous one. Don Pablo,\" and she gave details.\n\n\"What an old beast!\" said Montrose. \"If I were that fisherman I'd screw\nhis neck.\"\n\n\"Don't put such ideas into Job's head,\" cried Alice rebukingly. \"He is\nangry enough as it is!\"\n\n\"All the worse for Don Pablo, my dear!\" and so they left the matter,\nwhich was of less importance then than it became afterwards.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nFURTHER SMALL BEER CHRONICLES\n\n\nWhen the young people went to church, Enistor took the opportunity of\npaying a visit to Narvaez. The effort to keep up an appearance of\nfriendship for a man he hated was not easy, and the Squire wished to\nunbend in the society of one who knew his true sentiments. Also he\ngreatly desired to learn what were Don Pablo's plans regarding the\nrestoration of the fortune, for the Spaniard did not seem to be moving\nin the matter at all, and valuable time was being wasted. And since\nEnistor was anxious to get rid of Montrose as speedily as possible, he\nthought it was just as well to suggest that the scheme--whatever it\nmight be--should be completed as soon as could be conveniently managed.\nThe master of Tremore wanted to handle the coveted income; he wished to\nsee his daughter married to Narvaez, and finally he desired to learn the\nnature of this danger at which Don Pablo hinted so frequently. Of course\nthe marriage with the Spaniard, by making possible the training of\nAlice's clairvoyant powers, would soon disclose this last.\n\nEnistor walked leisurely over the moor to where the evil mount with its\ncrown of monoliths was indistinctly outlined against the grey sky. As it\nwas now autumn, the heavens had lost their summer azure, and the earth\nhad been stripped of its flowering splendour. He wandered through a\nruined world, where the red and brown and yellow of the dying bracken\nwere veiled in chilly mists. The ground was sodden, the herbage was\ndripping wet, and the cries of the birds sounded mournful, as though\nthey were regretting the passing of warm weather. That Enistor should\nsee the prostrate body of a man lying amidst the fantastic colours of\nthe moorland seemed to be so much in keeping with the general air of\ndecay and sadness that he did not even start when he bent over the still\nform. But he did utter an ejaculation when he looked at the white face\nand recognised Julian Hardwick.\n\nWhy the artist should be here in an unconscious condition Enistor did\nnot pause to inquire. He was above all a man of action, and as it was\nnecessary to revive Hardwick, he hastened to fill his cap with water at\na convenient pool. The chill of the fluid on the white face flushed it\nwith returning life, and when Enistor loosened the collar, and shook the\nbody, Julian opened his eyes languidly. In a half-dazed way he murmured\nsomething about brandy, a hint which the Squire acted upon by searching\nthe artist's pockets. He soon found what he looked for, and a drink of\nthe generous liquor revived Hardwick so speedily that he was soon able\nto sit up and talk.\n\n\"My heart is weak,\" he said in a stronger voice, buttoning his collar.\n\nEnistor was frankly amazed. \"Why, you always look singularly healthy.\"\n\n\"Because I am big and well-covered with flesh it is natural you should\nthink so, Mr. Enistor. But the heart doesn't do its work properly. That\nis why I live so much in the open air, and----\"\n\n\"Don't talk so much. You are exhausting yourself.\"\n\nHardwick took a second drink of brandy, and as the heart quickened he\nbegan to look more like his old self. \"I am all right now,\" he assured\nhis helper, \"I can manage to crawl to my lodgings and lie down for a\ntime.\" He got on to his feet and stretched himself languidly. \"I always\ncarry brandy on the chance of these attacks!\"\n\n\"You couldn't have used the brandy had I not been here to help you,\"\nsaid the Squire bluntly. \"If you are liable to such seizures you should\nnot venture to wander on these lonely moors by yourself.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not! But it is rarely I become so incapable. Thank you very\nmuch for being so kind. I shall go home now.\"\n\nThen Enistor made an effort which rather amazed himself. \"Let me take\nyou home, Hardwick. You are not fit to go by yourself.\"\n\nHardwick was as amazed as the man who made this offer. \"I didn't think\nyou would bother about me in that way,\" he said weakly: then he\nstraightened himself with an effort. \"Thank you all the same, but I can\nmanage!\" And giving his preserver a friendly handshake, he moved along\nthe path which meandered towards Polwellin.\n\nThe Squire stood looking after him, thinking that he might fall again\nand require further assistance. But the tall figure moved steadily\nthrough the mists, apparently possessed of sufficient vital power to\nreach the haven of home in safety. Then the Squire thoughtfully resumed\nhis way to Don Pablo's cottage, wondering at the discovery he had made.\nHardwick looked so strong and well, and was so massive and imposing in\nappearance, that no one could possibly have guessed that his heart was\nweak. But Enistor did not wonder at this alone: he wondered also at his\nown kind offer to go out of his way to help any one in distress. It was\nrather a weak thing to do, he reflected, and not at all an action of\nwhich Narvaez would approve. All the same Enistor resolved to tell the\nSpaniard if only for his own glorification.\n\nDon Pablo was seated by a huge fire in his sinister study, with a paper\nin his hands covered with odd signs and hieroglyphics. With his usual\nserenity he murmured a welcome and pointed to a chair. But he did not\nspeak further for the moment and Enistor employed the time in trying to\nread the inscrutable face, which was seamed with a thousand wrinkles and\nmade quite inhuman by the passionless look of the cold, steady, blue\neyes. Shortly the old man laid the paper aside with a sigh of\nsatisfaction.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" asked Enistor curiously.\n\n\"I have been casting Hardwick's horoscope,\" was the unexpected reply.\n\"For the satisfaction of his own curiosity he gave me the day and hour\nof his birth,\" he smiled in a cruel way. \"I don't think he will be\npleased at what I have to tell him.\"\n\nA telepathic message passed swiftly from one trained brain to the other\nand Enistor nodded in a surprised manner. \"He may die at any moment,\"\nsaid the Squire, translating Don Pablo's thoughts. \"Well, that is very\nlikely. I found him unconscious on the moor a short time ago.\"\n\n\"He is not dead?\" questioned Narvaez, with unusual interest.\n\n\"Oh no. I revived him with water and some brandy he had in his pocket.\nAlso I offered to see him home.\"\n\n\"Why?\" demanded the other coldly.\n\n\"Well, he seemed weak and----\"\n\n\"How often have I told you that other people's troubles do not concern\nyou, Enistor! If you choose to waste your powers on assisting weaker\npersons, you will lose much force better employed in your own gain.\"\n\n\"I am not quite so hard as you are,\" snapped the Squire, sharply.\n\n\"Not quite so wise, you mean,\" was the unmoved response. \"However, I\npardon your weakness on this occasion, as I don't want Hardwick to\ndie--yet.\"\n\n\"Do you wish him to die at all?\"\n\n\"My last word implied that I did. It is part of my plan to get the\nfortune you desire, which also means that I shall secure your daughter\nas my wife.\"\n\n\"But I don't see----\"\n\n\"There is no need for you to see,\" said Narvaez tyrannically; \"you do\nwhat I tell you and all will be well.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to kill Hardwick?\"\n\n\"No! There is no need for me to move a finger. His horoscope shows an\nearly death from natural causes. Having found him unconscious, I leave\nyou to guess what those causes will be.\"\n\n\"I have no need to guess. Hardwick's heart is weak.\"\n\n\"Exactly. The organs of his body are healthy, but he has not a\nsufficiently strong heart. If he could get a fresh supply of vitality he\nwould be a powerful and _long-lived_ man.\"\n\n\"Do you intend to give him that vitality?\" sneered the visitor.\n\nNarvaez chuckled. \"Yes! You will see that splendid body walking about\nfilled with strenuous life some day soon.\"\n\n\"The body walking about.\" Enistor stared keenly at the mocking, cruel\nface. \"I must say you speak very strangely.\"\n\n\"I speak as I speak, and what I mean to say I say,\" rejoined Don Pablo\nenigmatically. \"Let us change the subject, as I am busy. Your errand?\"\n\n\"I only came to get the taste of that young prig out of my mouth!\"\n\n\"And waste my time. Why can't you rely on your own strength? I am not\ngoing to have you here draining mine, particularly when this body I have\nat present is so frail. Act the courteous host and give the young fool\nas much of your daughter's company as he desires. The rest can be left\nto me.\"\n\n\"But when are you going to move in the matter?\"\n\n\"When the time is ripe and when I choose. How often am I to tell you\nthat it is impossible to hurry things? Corn takes time to grow: a rose\ntakes time to unfold, and everything in the visible and invisible world\nprogresses inch by inch, step by step. Nature, as you should know by\nthis time, is a tortoise and not a kangaroo.\"\n\n\"There is another reason why I came,\" said Enistor, accepting the rebuke\nwith a meekness foreign to his nature; \"that fisherman--Trevel!\"\n\n\"Well? He is annoyed because I give the girl jewels, and waken her\nambition to be something better than a domestic drudge.\"\n\n\"His annoyance extends to an intention to kill you,\" said Enistor dryly.\n\"I advise you to be careful, Master. Trevel is dangerous.\"\n\n\"Dangerous!\" Narvaez spoke with supreme contempt. \"You know what I am\nand yet talk of danger to me from an ignorant boor. I could guard myself\nin a hundred ways if I so chose. But,\" ended Narvaez deliberately, \"I do\nnot choose.\"\n\n\"I wonder what you mean?\"\n\n\"You may wonder. Threatened men live long. Content yourself with that\nproverb. And now go; I am busy!\"\n\nWithout a word Enistor rose and walked to the door. There he paused to\nsay a few words not complimentary to Narvaez, and he said them with a\nblack look of suppressed rage. \"You treat me like a dog,\" snarled the\nweaker man. \"Be careful that I do not bite you like a dog.\"\n\n\"I trust you as little as any one else, and am always on my guard,\" said\nthe magician mildly, and stared in a cold sinister way at his pupil.\nEnistor felt a wave of some cruel force surge against him--a force which\nstruck him with the dull stunning blows of a hammer, and which twisted\nhis nerves so sharply that but for dogged pride he would have shrieked\nwith pain. As it was he writhed and grew deadly pale, the sweat beading\nhis brow showing what agony he suffered. Hours seemed to be concentrated\ninto that one long minute during which Narvaez held him in the vice of\nhis will, and made him suffer the torments of the damned.\n\n\"I beat my dog when he bites,\" said an unemotional voice. \"Go!\" And\nEnistor, conquered by supreme pain, crept away in silence. As the door\nclosed, he heard his master chuckle like a parrot over a piece of cake.\n\nThe Squire returned painfully to Tremore, cursing himself for having\nbeen such a fool as to defy a man possessed of super-physical powers.\nTwice before he had done so, and each time Don Pablo had inflicted\ntorments. The man, more learned than an ordinary hypnotist, simply used\nin a greater degree the will and suggestion which such a one employs. A\nhypnotist can make his subject believe that he has toothache, or has\ntaken poison, by insisting with superior force that he shall so believe.\nNarvaez, more learned in the laws which govern this creation, compelled\nEnistor in this way to feel the torments of a heretic on the rack,\nwithout resorting to the ordinary necessity of casting his subject into\na hypnotic trance. If Enistor had concentrated his will, he could have\nrepelled the suggestion, but he had not the terrific power of\nconcentration which ages of exercise had given Don Pablo. He was in the\npresence of a powerful influence, directed by an equally powerful will,\nand therefore had no weapons with which to fight his dark master. In a\nfury Enistor wished that he could make Narvaez suffer in the same\ndegree, but he knew that he could never hope to do so. Even if he became\npossessed of knowledge, of concentration, and of a more powerful will\nthan was human, the Spaniard knew of ways which could baffle the attack.\nThe sole consolation which Enistor had to pacify his wounded pride was\nthat there was no disgrace in a mere mortal being beaten by a superman.\nNarvaez, in a minor degree, was a god, a very evil god, and those\nworshippers who did not obey him felt very speedily what their deity\ncould do. Enistor had no wish to measure forces with so powerful a being\nagain.\n\nFor the rest of that week he left the magician alone and devoted himself\nto entertaining his guest. It was impossible to induce Narvaez to act\nuntil he chose to act, and all that could be done was to obey his\ninstructions and behave agreeably to Montrose, so that the visitor might\nbe lulled into false security. Never was there so amiable a host as the\nSquire; never was there so genial a companion, and Douglas became quite\nfascinated with a personality which transcended his own. The young man\nwas so much weaker than his host that the latter wondered why Narvaez\ndid not compel him to surrender the fortune by putting forth resistless\npower. Had Enistor guessed that Montrose's desire to do good and to love\nevery one nullified the evil spell, he would have wondered less. And at\nthe same time Enistor would have understood how, not having unselfish\nlove in his own breast, he lay open to the assaults of the magician. As\nhe treated others so he was treated, and a realisation of this golden\ntruth would have enabled him to defy Narvaez and his suggestions. But\nthe mere fact that he wished to exercise the same might-over-right\nfree-lance law prevented his understanding how to defend himself from a\nmore accomplished devil. And Don Pablo was as much a devil as there is\npossible to be one, since he wholly obeyed the instincts, carefully\nfostered, of hate and selfishness. Enistor was a very minor devil\nindeed, as he had too much of the milk of human kindness in him as yet\nto equal or rival the superior fiend.\n\nIn his determination to act his comedy thoroughly, Enistor went to the\ngreat length of asking the vicar and his wife to dinner. As Mr. Sparrow\nhad never before been invited to break bread under the Squire's roof, he\nwas extremely surprised by the unexpected honour. At first he was minded\nto decline, since Enistor never came to church and never took the least\ninterest in matters connected with the parish. But Mrs. Sparrow pointed\nout that this desire for their company might be a sign of grace, and\nthat if they went, it might entail the reformation of their host. Also\nthe dinner was sure to be good, and she could wear her new dress in\ndecent society, which she very rarely had an opportunity of doing. Urged\nin this way and having a certain amount of curiosity of his own\nregarding the splendours of the big house, Mr. Sparrow sent an\nacceptance in his neat Oxford calligraphy. The Squire gave it to his\ndaughter and told her to order the dinner.\n\n\"See that it is a good one,\" said Enistor genially. \"Sparrow is as lean\nas a fasting friar and won't object to a decent meal for once. It isn't\nLent or any of their confounded Church feasts, is it?\"\n\n\"No!\" answered Alice, very much puzzled by this unusual behaviour; \"but\nwhy do you ask Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow to dinner? I thought you didn't like\nthem.\"\n\n\"I don't! They are a couple of bores. But it is rather dull here for\nMontrose, and we must get what society we can to cheer him up.\"\n\n\"I think Douglas is very well satisfied with my company,\" retorted the\ngirl, rather nettled by the implied slight, \"and these two bores, as you\ncall them, certainly will not amuse him.\"\n\n\"Very well; ask Hardwick also. He isn't a bore and Montrose likes him.\"\n\n\"Julian isn't very well, father. He hasn't been since you found him on\nthe moor fainting. But I shall send the invitation. Shall you ask Se\u00f1or\nNarvaez?\"\n\n\"No!\" said her father sharply and uneasily, for his body still tingled\nwith the memory of Don Pablo's reproof. \"I shan't submit him to the\nordeal of enduring so dull a set of people.\"\n\n\"Complimentary to us all,\" said Alice dryly, then regretted the retort;\n\"I am sure you wish to make things pleasant for Douglas.\"\n\n\"Of course! I wish him to stay here as long as he likes,\" said Enistor,\nwith an emphasis which she could not quite understand. \"See that\neverything is all right, my dear. I want the dinner-party to be a\nsuccess.\"\n\nRather amazed at the way in which her usually selfish father sacrificed\nhimself, Alice consulted the housekeeper, and made all preparations for\nthis rare festivity. When the evening came, the parson and his wife duly\narrived and at their heels followed Hardwick, who had willingly accepted\nthe chance of an evening in the company of Alice, whom he loved as a\nsister, and Montrose, who appealed to him as an unusually agreeable and\ndecent fellow. The Squire welcomed his guests cordially, and took Mrs.\nSparrow in to dinner. She was a faded, colourless woman with a\nwashed-out appearance, markedly accentuated by the gauzy grey dress she\nwore. Alice in a delicate pink frock, which set off her evasive beauty\nto great advantage, looked like a fresh sunrise beside a wet, misty\nautumn day. Douglas could not keep his eyes off her and Hardwick was\nequally pressing in his attentions.\n\n\"But you must not over-tax your strength, Julian,\" said Alice, when she\nfound herself at the dinner-table between the artist and Mr. Sparrow,\nwho had escorted her thereto.\n\n\"Oh, I am all right now,\" replied Hardwick, \"no better and no worse than\nI ever was. You were surprised when your father told you?\"\n\n\"I was greatly grieved, Julian. And it seems so strange that a big man\nsuch as you are should be so delicate. You should see a doctor.\"\n\n\"I have seen several, but they can do me no good,\" said the artist\nsadly. \"In every way I am healthy, so there is nothing to cure. All I\nlack is what they cannot give me, and that is a new supply of\nlife-force.\"\n\n\"If it is vitality you want, Hardwick,\" said Montrose, speaking across\nthe table, \"you should consult Dr. Eberstein, who is coming down shortly\nto Perchton. He is wonderful in many ways and I am certain he would do\nyou good.\"\n\n\"He cannot breathe more breath of life into a man than what that man\nalready has,\" said Mr. Sparrow, in a tone of sad rebuke. \"God alone is\nable to do that.\"\n\n\"Therefore,\" murmured Mrs. Sparrow, in an equally sad tone, \"you should\npray for strength, Mr. Hardwick. We are told to do so.\"\n\n\"I thought that was spiritual strength?\"\n\n\"And what more do you want?\" replied the lady, forgetting the exact\npoint under discussion. \"Let us watch and pray lest we fall into\ntemptation.\"\n\n\"My dear!\" murmured the vicar in an undertone, for he felt that this\nconversation was too professional for the occasion.\n\n\"Quite so,\" said Mrs. Sparrow, taking the hint, and did not open her\nmouth for some time save to eat and drink. All the same she watched for\nan opportunity to lead the conversation towards such religious topics as\nshe and her husband were interested in. This was to be done with a view\nof surprising the Squire with the extent of her husband's knowledge. Now\nshe had managed to enter the big house, she did not intend to go out\nagain in a hurry. Enistor was a valuable parishioner, and if he could be\nbrought to defer to Mr. Sparrow much could be done with him and with his\nmoney.\n\nThe table looked charming with its snow-white napery, on which glittered\ncrystal and silver, while the dinner-service was a thing of beauty. The\nscarlet and golden autumn leaves which decorated the board, the mellow\nlight of the many wax candles, the well-cooked food and the delicious\nwines, all impressed the vicar's wife greatly. She even felt a little\nangry that such a heathen as the Squire surely was should possess these\nluxuries, while Mr. Sparrow--capable of being a bishop in her\nopinion--was content with unlovely surroundings and plain viands,\nprepared in anything but an inviting way by their one servant. No, not\ncontent--that was the wrong word to use. He put up with ascetic living,\nwhile the wicked--meaning Mr. Enistor--lived on the fat of the land. It\nwas enough to shake the faith of a Christian lady in the fairness of\nthings. And truth to tell, Mrs. Sparrow, in spite of her anxious faith,\nfrequently doubted if the world was governed justly. She and her\nhusband did all that the Bible told them to do in the way of living\nuprightly and unselfishly, therefore they should certainly long before\nthis have sat under their own fig-tree, possessing beeves and lands\naccording to the promise. As it was, they were as poor as rats, or\nrather as church mice, which seemed to be the more ecclesiastical\ncomparison. Clearly there was something wrong somewhere in the way in\nwhich mundane matters were ordered.\n\nMeantime, the Squire had started Mr. Sparrow on arch\u00e6ology, as the best\nway of keeping him off theology, and the parson was talking eagerly\nabout a certain red granite heart, inscribed with weird signs, which he\nhad dug up on the hill where the Roman camp was to be seen. \"Near the\ncottage of that Spanish gentleman,\" he explained precisely.\n\n\"I know,\" said Enistor; and indeed he knew the hill very well in a way\nof which Mr. Sparrow would scarcely have approved.\n\n\"There is a Druidical altar there,\" went on the clergyman eagerly, \"and\nI have no doubt many dreadful sacrifices took place there in the old\ndays. This heart--which I shall be delighted to show you if you call at\nthe vicarage, Mr. Enistor--no doubt had to do with the terrible rites.\"\n\n\"Earlier than that,\" put in Montrose unexpectedly, \"the heart was the\nsymbol of the Atlantean race, as the cross is the symbol of the Aryan.\nThe hieroglyphics on it mean doubtless the sacred word 'Tau.' Aum is the\nsacred word of our present people.\"\n\n\"Tau! Aum! Atlantean!\" echoed Sparrow, much perplexed. \"What do you\nmean?\"\n\n\"It would take too long to explain, sir. Dr. Eberstein, who told me\nabout these things, is the best person to consult.\"\n\n\"I wish to consult no one,\" said the parson, drawing himself up. \"I\nbelieve the heart to be a symbol of the Druids.\"\n\n\"A symbol of Atlantis rather,\" insisted Montrose; \"this very land on\nwhich we are was part of the great continent of Atlantis.\"\n\n\"A mere fable, sir. You are thinking of the myth which Plato mentions.\"\n\n\"It is no myth, but an actual truth, Mr. Sparrow. Atlantis did exist and\nwas overwhelmed by that flood you will find mentioned in the Bible.\"\n\n\"Absurd! The name of Atlantis is not mentioned in Holy Scripture. There\nis no proof that what Plato says is true.\"\n\n\"This much proof, that as far back as arch\u00e6ologists can go the\ncivilisation of Egypt was in full swing. Where did that civilisation\ncome from?\"\n\n\"It grew up in the Valley of the Nile.\"\n\n\"Certainly, but the beginnings were brought to the Valley of the Nile by\na highly civilised race. Remember it was the Egyptian priests who told\nPlato about Atlantis. They knew, because Egypt was a colony of that\nmighty continent. There was another colony in Central America, and you\nwill find the vast ruins of its cities described in a book by D\u00e9sir\u00e9\nCharnay. The civilisation of Mexico and Peru destroyed by the Spaniards\nwas the last remains of the splendour of the Atlanteans.\"\n\n\"Where did you hear all this, Mr. Montrose?\" asked the Squire quickly.\n\n\"From Dr. Eberstein. You can ask him for yourself when he comes down.\"\n\n\"I should like to meet him,\" said Mr. Sparrow primly, \"but I do not\nthink that I shall agree with a single word he says.\"\n\n\"Then why ask him?\" asked Montrose, very naturally.\n\n\"To confute him, sir. What we know of the early world is all contained\nin Genesis. There is no mention of Atlantis there, although there is of\nEgypt.\"\n\n\"What about the chronology of the Bible? It has been proved, Mr.\nSparrow--and you as an arch\u00e6ologist must admit this--that the\ncivilisation of Egypt extends further back than the date given in\nGenesis as the beginning of the world. What do you say to that?\"\n\n\"I could say a great deal,\" retorted the parson, whose arch\u00e6ological\nknowledge was always struggling with his religious beliefs; \"but this is\nnot the time or the place to say more. When Dr. Eberstein, who is your\nauthority for these startling statements, arrives I shall be happy to\nthresh the matter out with him. It will be an intellectual pleasure. I\nget few opportunities of that sort down here.\"\n\n\"That is very probable,\" said Hardwick, nodding; \"your parishioners are\na good sort, but not very learned.\"\n\n\"They have no need to be learned, Mr. Hardwick. Let them fulfil their\ndaily task, and be satisfied with the position in which they have been\nplaced.\"\n\n\"If they take your advice,\" said the Squire dryly, \"there will be no\nchance of their rising in the world.\"\n\n\"Why should they try to rise?\" demanded Mrs. Sparrow, coming to her\nhusband's aid.\n\n\"Well, my dear lady, it is said that the common or garden millionaire\nusually starts his pile with the proverbial halfpenny. If he accepted\nyour husband's ruling, he would never attempt to rise.\"\n\n\"It is divinely ordained that some people must be high and some low.\"\n\n\"Rather hard on the low people. I think every one should be\ndissatisfied, myself: that is the only thing that makes for progress.\"\n\n\"Did you promulgate this extraordinary doctrine in the village, Mr.\nEnistor?\"\n\n\"No!\" replied the Squire, glancing at the parson, who spoke. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because some of my parishioners are very dissatisfied indeed. Mrs.\nTrevel was hard up last winter, and prayed for money. She did not get\nit, and told me that she did not intend to pray any more, as it seemed\nuseless.\"\n\n\"And what explanation did you give her?\" asked Alice anxiously.\n\n\"I was horrified at her impiety, Miss Enistor, as any right-minded\nperson would be.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" murmured Montrose ironically, \"how dare she ask for money\nwhen she was hard up.\"\n\nMr. Sparrow took no notice of him. \"I told her that God thought she\nrequired discipline and that she must not complain.\"\n\n\"Why should she require discipline rather than a millionaire?\" asked\nJulian.\n\n\"She may have more original sin in her,\" said Mr. Sparrow, floundering\nin a bog and getting quite out of his depth.\n\n\"Well,\" said Montrose grimly, \"if according to your teaching, Mr.\nSparrow, we all start as brand-new souls, given a set of circumstances\nover which we have no control at the outset, and with the same goal of\nheaven or hell at the end, it seems to me that every one ought to start\nat scratch.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" said the parson, doggedly illogical, \"some are rich and\nsome are poor; some are clever and some are stupid; some are ill and\nsome are well. It is all divinely ordained.\"\n\n\"But so unfair,\" urged Julian, seeing the absurdity of the speech.\n\n\"What, sir, shall the clay say to the potter what it wants to be?\"\n\n\"I really don't see why the clay shouldn't,\" put in Mr. Enistor, who\nliked to see the parson driven into a corner, \"especially when the clay\nhas nerves.\"\n\n\"All is divinely ordained,\" repeated Mr. Sparrow piously, \"we must not\nmurmur. I regard Mrs. Trevel as a most impious person for daring to\nrebel when her prayers are not answered.\"\n\n\"I told her that,\" said his wife, \"and she only laughed.\"\n\n\"Bitterly, I expect,\" murmured Montrose; \"poor soul, I shall give her\nsome money in the morning.\"\n\n\"No, don't,\" said Mr. Sparrow. \"It will only confirm her in disbelief.\"\n\n\"On the contrary it will restore her faith,\" remarked the Squire coolly,\n\"as it will show that her prayers are answered after all.\"\n\nMr. Sparrow had nothing to say after this, although he greatly longed\nto preach a sermon to those present. But not being in the pulpit he\nfeared lest his statements should be contradicted by these ribald\npeople. Therefore he wisely held his tongue on religious subjects for\nthe rest of the evening. On the way home, however, he made one scathing\nremark to his wife.\n\n\"They are all atheists, Jane. Just the kind I expected to find under the\nroof of a man who does not come to church.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nPREPARATION\n\n\nOn the morning of the third day after the dinner, Montrose received a\nletter from Dr. Eberstein saying that he was arriving in Perchton that\nsame evening. At once the young man decided to see his friend at the\nwatering-place and stay there for the night. He was anxious to tell the\ndoctor how Enistor's character had been misunderstood, and what an\nagreeable man he was to live with. Also he asked the Squire if he could\nbring back Eberstein for a few hours' visit, to which Enistor heartily\nagreed. The schemer was looking forward to meeting the man--if he was\nsimply a man and not something greater--whom Narvaez called \"The\nAdversary.\" Confident of receiving support from Don Pablo, the Squire\nwas anxious to come to grips with the opposing power that wished to\nthwart his plans. The suspense of the delay in any decided action being\ntaken chafed Enistor considerably, and he wished to arrive at the\ndesired conclusion as swiftly as possible. Narvaez advised waiting and\nEnistor rejected the advice. He had not the inexhaustible patience of\nhis master.\n\nAlice suggested that as Hardwick was going on that day to Perchton to\nconsult a doctor about his health, Douglas should accompany him. The\nartist as usual had borrowed his rich friend's motor-car, and when a\nmessage was sent to him, replied that he would be delighted to have\nMontrose with him. To avoid the necessity of the car climbing the hill\nto Tremore, Douglas went down to Polwellin with a medium-sized bag,\ncontaining what necessaries he required for his night's absence. Alice\nwalked with him, and they left the bag at Hardwick's lodgings, where the\ncar was to arrive some time during the afternoon. It was already long\nafter midday, and having to get rid of an hour of waiting, the girl\nproposed that they should call on Dame Trevel.\n\n\"You said you would help her, Douglas,\" she reminded him.\n\n\"Of course. I should have seen her on the morning after the dinner, when\nI told Mr. Sparrow that I would give her money. It was wrong of me not\nto keep my promise. The vicar will think that I am like every one else,\nand say much but do little.\"\n\n\"I don't think the vicar will think anything about the matter,\" said\nAlice candidly. \"Mrs. Trevel is a heretic in his eyes!\"\n\n\"Simply because she won't believe blindly against her better reason.\nThere is a great want of logic about priestly authority. With the\nteachers of exoteric knowledge it is 'Obey or be damned!' which is\nsomething like the reported motto of the French Revolution: 'Be my\nbrother, or I'll kill you.'\"\n\n\"But Mr. Sparrow is a good man, Douglas.\"\n\n\"I admitted long ago that he was a good man, my dear. But a good man\nwith a limited understanding can do more harm than a bad man. There are\nother ways of teaching a child than by boxing his ears until he is\nstupid with pain.\"\n\n\"I don't think Dame Trevel would like to be called a child,\" said Alice,\nwith an amused laugh.\n\n\"My dear, the majority of human beings _are_ children. The longer I\nlive, the more I see that. I am a child myself in many ways, although,\nas Eberstein is widening my limitations, I am beginning to grow up.\nChildren,\" Montrose spoke half to himself and half to his companion,\n\"what else? Instead of cake and toys, we want gold and lands, and power\nand pleasure. Whether we deserve them or not we clamour for them, just\nlike a child. We become cross when things don't go as we wish them, and\nslap the bad naughty table that has hurt baby in the shape of anything\nwhich impedes our getting what we desire. Good Lord, how can any man be\nangry with another man, when he knows that his enemy is but a child? But\nto know that one must be more than a child oneself.\"\n\n\"Do you call me a child?\" asked Alice, pouting.\n\nAt the very door of Dame Trevel's cottage Montrose bent to kiss her. \"A\nvery charming child, who shall never be put into the corner by me.\"\n\n\"You talk as though you were the only wise man in existence.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" assented Montrose, laughing. \"I speak as though I were the judge\nof the earth instead of being a denizen. La Rochefoucauld says that. Go\nin, Alice, and let us get our interview over. We haven't overmuch time.\"\n\nMrs. Trevel received her visitors in a clean little room, poorly\nfurnished but fairly comfortable. She was a gaunt old creature, London\nborn and London bred, so she did not speak in the Cornish way. But\nindeed, thanks to the authority of school-boards, the local dialects are\nfast disappearing, and the girl idly remembered at the moment how\nordinary was the wording of Rose Penwin and her fisherman-lover. The\nsight of Dame Trevel seated in her big chair suggested the names, as the\nabsence of the West Country shibboleth in her speech suggested the\nthought of the younger generation whose dialect had been, so to speak,\nwiped out. The old woman was glad, as usual, to see her nursling and\nhighly approved of the handsome young man who was to marry her, as all\nPolwellin knew by this time.\n\n\"I hope it will be all sunshine with you two,\" said Mrs. Trevel, when\nher visitors were seated. \"And that you'll live to see your children's\nchildren playing about your knees, my dears.\"\n\n\"With Alice beside me it is bound to be sunshine,\" replied Douglas\nheartily. \"She is an angel.\"\n\n\"Ah, my young sir, men always call women so before marriage; but what do\nthey call them afterwards?\"\n\n\"That depends mainly on the woman, I fancy,\" said Montrose dryly. \"A\nwife can make her husband whatever she chooses.\"\n\n\"A silk purse out of a sow's ear,\" retorted Miss Enistor saucily. \"But\nDouglas and I understand one another, nurse, and there will be no cause\nfor quarrels.\"\n\n\"I wish I could say the same about my lad and the girl he has set his\nheart on marrying,\" sighed Dame Trevel, laying down her knitting and\nremoving her spectacles. \"It's more her fault than his, though. Rose is\na flighty piece.\"\n\n\"She won't listen to reason,\" said Alice, shaking her head wisely.\n\n\"Does any woman ever listen to reason?\" inquired Montrose with a shrug.\n\n\"From a man she won't; but from a woman she will. Don't be cynical. But\nI have talked to Rose without success,\" ended Alice, turning to her\nnurse.\n\n\"So have I, my dearie, and then she told me to mind my own business; as\nif it wasn't my business to see that my lad got a decent wife.\"\n\n\"There's no real harm in Rose,\" cried Alice hastily.\n\n\"I'm not saying there is. But why she should take jewels from that\nforeign gentleman and make Job wild, I don't understand.\"\n\n\"Women are fond of jewels,\" suggested Douglas.\n\n\"And why not if they get them in the right way?\" snapped Mrs. Trevel\nungraciously. \"But Rose is to marry my lad, and he don't want her\nvisiting that old gentleman and taking presents.\"\n\n\"Old is the word, nurse,\" said Alice swiftly. \"Job can't be jealous.\"\n\n\"But he is, and his jealousy is dangerous, just as his father's was\nbefore him, dearie. And the foreign gentleman puzzles me,\" added the old\nwoman, taking up her knitting again. \"They did say he was to marry you,\nmy love--by your father's wish, I swear, and never by your own will.\nDecember and May. Ha! A pretty match that would be.\"\n\n\"I marry Douglas and no one else, nurse, whatever my father may say or\ndo.\"\n\n\"He's a dour gentleman is the Squire,\" said Mrs. Trevel, shaking her\nhead, \"and not pleasant to cross. He never treated your mother well,\nand she faded like a delicate flower blown upon by cold winds. To me,\ndearie, he behaves cruel in the way of rent, for all my bringing you\nup.\"\n\n\"He doesn't mean to,\" said Alice, distressed, and driven to defending\nher father, although she knew only too well his high-handed methods with\ntenants who could not or would not pay.\n\n\"Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh,\" quoted Mrs.\nTrevel in a sour way. \"If he doesn't mean it, why does he do it?\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"Says he'll turn me out bag and baggage if I don't pay the rent,\" cried\nthe old woman excitedly. \"How can I when the fishing's been bad and Job\ncan't earn enough to keep things going? I make a trifle by my knitting,\nbut that won't boil the pot. And winter's approaching too. Oh, what's to\nbe done?\"\n\nMontrose glanced at Alice and handed a piece of paper to the speaker.\n\"Pay the rent with that, and use what is over to buy food and coal.\"\n\nMrs. Trevel grasped the banknote, with a vivid spot of colour on each\nfaded cheek, and could scarcely speak in her excitement. \"What is it:\noh, what is it?\"\n\n\"The answer to your prayer,\" said Alice, rising and looking solemn.\n\n\"My prayer! Why, it's a fifty-pound note. Oh, sir, I can't take such a\nlarge sum of money from you.\"\n\n\"It is not from me,\" said Montrose hastily. \"I am merely the instrument.\nGod sends the money because you asked Him to help you.\"\n\nThe tears fell down the worn old face. \"And I told the passon as it\nwasn't no use praying,\" she moaned regretfully.\n\n\"Well, you see it is. He takes His own time and means, but in the end\nevery petition receives the answer He deems best. Thank Him, Mrs.\nTrevel.\"\n\n\"I thank Him, and I thank you too, sir. Bless you, how the sight of this\nmoney do set my mind at rest. If it wasn't for Job and the contrary ways\nof that silly girl I'd be as happy as an angel.\"\n\n\"Pray for Job and Rose,\" advised Alice gently.\n\n\"Well, it do seem worth it, dearie. If He sends me this, He may turn\nRose into a reasonable girl, which she isn't at present.\" Mrs. Trevel\nwas about to put away her treasure-trove when she hesitated. \"Should I\ntake it, Miss Alice?\"\n\n\"Yes. Of course you must take it. Mr. Montrose is rich and can well\nafford to give it to you.\"\n\n\"And the riches I have,\" said Douglas quietly, \"are but given to me as a\nsteward of Christ to dispense according to His will.\"\n\nHe did not say this priggishly, although to an ordinary man of the world\nsuch a way of regarding wealth would seem priggish. Nine people out of\nten would have considered the speech as one made for effect, but Alice\nwas the tenth and knew the absolutely impersonal way in which her lover\nlooked at the money. With joyful tears Dame Trevel showered blessings on\nthe young couple when they left her house, and was a happy woman for the\nrest of the day. Even the prospect of Rose's behaviour rousing Job's\njealousy to the extent of leading to serious trouble ceased to cause her\nanxiety for the moment. Angels had come and left their gifts behind\nthem. The old woman resolved to go to the vicarage and confess with\npenitent tears that she had been wrong to doubt the efficacy of prayer.\n\n\"Do you really regard yourself as Christ's steward?\" asked Alice, when\nthe two were on their way to Julian's lodgings, more from curiosity than\nbecause she doubted.\n\n\"Yes. I thought you knew me well enough to believe so, darling. Of\ncourse when you are my wife I shall use the money to make us both\ncomfortable, and we shall have even the luxuries of life. But we must\nshare our good fortune with less fortunate people.\"\n\n\"Why not sell all we have and give it to the poor?\"\n\n\"I suppose there comes a stage when one does that,\" mused Montrose, more\nto himself than to the girl. \"But I have not yet reached that point. I\nknow what poverty is in its most sordid aspect, and I don't wish to\nundergo the experience again. The most I can do is to share----\" he\npaused, then went on in a doubtful manner: \"I expect the Blessed One\nknew that the young man who had great possessions, to whom He said that,\nwas a miser. He was perfect in all ways, but he loved money.\"\n\n\"The Bible doesn't say so,\" insisted Alice quickly.\n\n\"I am reading between the lines, dear. And if Christ gives any one\nwealth to administer as a steward, what would be the use of the steward\nnullifying his office by getting rid at one sweep of what he has to\nadminister? It's a hard saying in any case, Alice. I must ask Eberstein\nwhat he thinks about the matter. Besides, my dear----\" he hesitated and\nclosed his lips.\n\n\"Well?\" asked the girl, curiously.\n\n\"Nothing,\" answered Douglas, as Alice had answered on a previous\noccasion, but there was a puzzled and rather pained look in his eyes as\nhe spoke the word.\n\nThe car was already standing at the door of Julian's lodgings and Julian\nhimself was already in the vehicle. While Montrose bundled in beside\nhim, Alice stared at the artist and laughed at his healthy looks, for he\nseemed to have entirely recovered from his experience on the moors.\n\n\"What a fraud you are, Julian, talking about your heart being weak,\" she\nsaid in a jesting manner. \"You look big and strong and healthy. Your\neyes are bright, your colour is ruddy and you are the picture of a\nSamson.\"\n\nJulian nodded gaily. \"I feel like a Samson to-day,\" he said, tucking the\nrug about his companion's legs and his own. \"Sometimes, as at present, I\ncould jump over the moon. At other times you could knock me down with a\nfeather.\"\n\n\"How strange,\" said the girl thoughtfully.\n\n\"Man's a queer animal,\" cried Douglas lightly, and waved his hand as the\nbig car got under way. \"I'll be back to-morrow, dear. Think of me!\" and\nhe smiled at Miss Enistor's bright face, little guessing what it would\nlook like when he next set eyes on its beauty.\n\nShortly they were clear of the village and spinning along the winding\nlevels towards the watering-place. Julian, as Alice had noted, was full\nof life, and chatted a great deal about this thing and that. Also he\nasked Montrose questions about the teaching of Eberstein, since his\ncuriosity had been aroused long since by some of the apparently odd\nthings which the young man said so simply and serenely. It was not the\nfirst time that they had conversed on the subject of reincarnation and\nits kindred associations. Julian was not prepared to accept what he\ntermed the theory of successive lives as gospel, and wanted physical\nproof for super-physical knowledge. This, as Montrose assured him, was\nabsurd.\n\n\"When you are able to leave your body consciously and enter into the\nUnseen World, you will be given positive proof regarding the truth of\nReincarnation and the Law of Cause and Effect, which is termed Karma by\nEastern teachers. But until that time comes you must accept both laws on\nlogical grounds, since they alone explain without a flaw the riddles of\nlife.\"\n\n\"Can _you_ leave your body consciously?\" asked the artist with\nscepticism.\n\n\"No! I shall some day, as Eberstein is training me. But you can't hurry\nthe hour and you can't delay the hour. You have just to wait.\"\n\n\"It requires immense patience.\"\n\n\"Immense,\" assented Douglas, \"but if you want a big thing you have to do\nbig things to get it. Only by living the life of Christ can you attain\nto the Christ-like powers. Love, purity, unselfishness, serenity,\nkindness of thought and word and action: these things arouse the latent\nfaculties which, inherent in every man, enable him to come into contact\nwith other worlds. These are the laws of the Kingdom of Heaven by which\none acquires the powers.\"\n\nJulian thought for a few moments. \"I had a talk with Narvaez the other\nday,\" he said after a pause, \"and he offered to cast my horoscope. He\nseems, so far as I can judge in my limited way, to have powers beyond\nthe reach of the ordinary man. Does he practise love and unselfishness\nand all the rest of the necessary requirements?\"\n\n\"No!\" said Montrose decidedly. \"I don't think Narvaez is a good man,\nalthough I have no positive reason to say that he is a bad one. But an\nevil man--I am not speaking of Don Pablo, understand--can gain some of\nthe power of the Kingdom by sheer force of will. Christ says: 'He that\nentereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other\nway, the same is a thief and a robber!' So those who get in otherwise\nthan through Christ the Door of the sheep--the door of love, that\nis--are the evil people who acquire super-physical powers by strength of\nwill, and make use of them selfishly. It is black magic to do that. But\nthose who follow the Master and enter through Him, as the Door, by\nliving the prescribed life to which I have referred, get the powers. But\nthese use them for the benefit of others and not to aggrandise\nthemselves. That is white magic.\"\n\n\"It seems strange to use the word 'magic' in connection with Christ.\"\n\n\"The word has become polarised,\" said Montrose indifferently, \"you can\ncall anything that happens by working an unknown law of Nature 'a\nmiracle,' or 'a wonder,' or 'a magical performance.' The one who\nperforms such exceptional things, of course, can exercise the unknown\nlaw I speak of.\"\n\n\"Christ, being superhuman, could,\" argued Hardwick seriously, \"because\nHe had wisdom without measure. But the ordinary man----\"\n\n\"If the ordinary man loves Christ and keeps His commandments and walks\nin His footsteps, he can gain knowledge of the power to work what are\ntermed miracles. The Master said so Himself, when His disciples\nmarvelled at His doings, and told them that if they followed Him they\nwould do greater things. As you know, some of the apostles did work\nmiracles in His name. They learned by living the life how to use the\nlaws rightly, by means of the power of Love which came through the\nBlessed One.\"\n\n\"You appear to know a lot about these things, Montrose?\"\n\n\"Indeed, I know very little. Eberstein can give much, but I cannot take\nall he is willing to give, because my understanding is yet limited. But\neverything will come in time. I must wait patiently.\"\n\nThis interesting conversation was necessarily ended when the car reached\nPerchton, and the young men parted for the time being. Douglas sought\nout the hotel where Eberstein was staying, while Hardwick went in search\nof his doctor. The artist arranged to meet Eberstein later, as Montrose\nwas anxious he should do so, if only to gain an answer to certain\nquestions. The young man being a neophyte could not explain much that\nJulian desired to know. But he was positive that Eberstein could and\nwould answer all questions, as he never withheld any knowledge from a\nsincere inquirer.\n\nIn a quiet hotel, high up on the cliffs, the doctor occupied a light and\nairy sitting-room, delightfully peaceful and cheerful and bright.\nThrough the expansive windows could be seen the calm waters of the bay,\nwith little wavelets breaking on the crescent of yellow sand, and the\ntall white column of the lighthouse shooting up from the reddish-hued\nrocks of the promontory. Montrose, after early greetings had taken\nplace, noted none of these things, but flung himself into the nearest\nchair, feeling unaccountably weary. Eberstein, who had welcomed his\nyoung friend in his usual sincere and kindly manner, looked at him\nkeenly, as he observed the boy's wilted appearance.\n\n\"You seem to be tired,\" he remarked gently.\n\n\"Well, I am,\" admitted Montrose, with a perplexed expression. \"I don't\nknow why I should be, as I slept all right last night and came here in a\ncomfortable motor-car.\"\n\n\"Whom did you come with?\"\n\n\"A fellow called Hardwick, who is an artist. A really capital chap, who\nis a first-rate friend. He got the car from some one he knows and gave\nme a lift.\"\n\n\"Is he ill?\" asked Eberstein, after a pause.\n\n\"Strange you should ask that. He isn't ill, and he isn't well; that is,\nhe suffers from a weak heart--not enough vitality. He is seeing a\ndoctor.\"\n\n\"I understand.\"\n\n\"You understand what?\" Montrose stared.\n\n\"Why you look tired. In quite an unconscious way, this Hardwick has been\ndrawing the vitality out of you.\"\n\n\"Can that be done?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! The weaker body frequently replenishes its life forces from\nany stronger body that is at hand. You have heard it said how old age\neats up youth. That is a great truth.\"\n\n\"David and Abishag,\" murmured Montrose wearily. Then he opened his eyes\nwith an astonished look. \"I am growing stronger.\"\n\nEberstein smiled in an understanding manner. \"I am giving you strength,\nand strength you will need very shortly, I assure you.\"\n\n\"You said in London that trouble was coming. But so far everything is\nall right. Enistor is an extremely pleasant man, who quite approves of\nmy marriage with Alice. We get on capitally together.\"\n\n\"Was your first impression of him pleasant?\"\n\n\"No! I disliked him no end when we first met. But as there was no reason\nfor me to do so I grew to like him.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the doctor with a world of meaning, \"second thoughts are not\nalways best. Have you met the man who wanted to marry Alice?\"\n\n\"Narvaez? Yes! He's a beast. I shall never get over my dislike for him.\"\n\n\"You must not dislike him or any one,\" corrected Eberstein softly. \"Pity\nNarvaez and pity Enistor, but be on your guard against both.\"\n\n\"What can they do?\" asked Montrose, with the disdainful confidence of\nyouth.\n\n\"Enistor can do nothing alone. Directed by Narvaez he can do much. And\nhe will,\" concluded the doctor with emphasis.\n\n\"Does the trouble you predicted come from that quarter?\"\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n\"Well, it is two against two. Alice and I can fight her father and\nNarvaez.\"\n\n\"Don't be over-confident, or you will invite disaster,\" said the doctor\ndryly. \"There is much doing of which you know nothing. That is why I am\nhere to aid you, my friend. I cannot do everything, as a great deal has\nto be done by you and Alice with what intuition and strength you\npossess. With Alice the ordeal has already commenced.\"\n\nMontrose started to his feet. \"Is she in danger?\" he asked excitedly.\n\"If so, I must go back to Tremore at once.\"\n\n\"There is no need. What she has to do must be done alone, and you would\ndo her more harm than good by going to her assistance. Hitherto I have\nprotected her with my strength, which has increased her own. Now for a\ncertain time that strength has been withdrawn. Narvaez will know the\nmoment I cease to guard her.\"\n\n\"What will he do?\" demanded the young man, clenching his fists.\n\n\"Nothing that physical strength can deal with, so don't get ready to\nfight, my friend. Narvaez will not hurt the girl, but he will endeavour\nto learn from her something he has long wished to know. It is necessary\nthat he should know and that his pupil should know also. Therefore, for\na time he is permitted to work his will. There! There! He will only make\nuse of her clairvoyant powers, so she will suffer little.\"\n\n\"I don't want her to suffer at all.\"\n\n\"Unless she does in some degree, she will not progress.\"\n\n\"Narvaez is such a beast.\"\n\n\"No. He is only a man blinded by pride in his intellectual knowledge.\nYou must pity him for his blindness and do your best to help him. Hate\nonly ceases when Love is used to vanquish it. Calm yourself, Montrose.\nWhat must be must be if the Will of God is to be done.\"\n\n\"I wish you hadn't told me,\" cried the young man, greatly agitated.\n\n\"That is a weak thing to say. I told you purposely, so that you may\ndevelop faith and patience. Can you not trust me?\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes! Yes!\"\n\n\"Then show it by waiting quietly here until I tell you to return to\nTremore, my friend. This is the time of preparation to meet and baffle\nthe trouble I warned you against. Stand in the strength of Christ and\nnot in your own strength. He never fails those who trust in Him.\nTo-morrow morning you must come with me to early celebration. By\npartaking of the Body and Blood of The Blessed One\"--Eberstein made the\nsign of the cross--\"you will gain the necessary strength to stand up\nbravely against the Powers of Darkness.\"\n\n\"Narvaez?\"\n\nEberstein bowed his stately head. \"God pity him and save him,\" he\nmurmured, with infinite compassion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE TRANCE\n\n\nA man on a suburban road at noonday, with the sun shining brilliantly,\nwalks along thinking of his private affairs and heedless of\nsurroundings. But when the toils of day are ended, and he proceeds along\nthat same road in a darkness scarcely illuminated by a few lamps, his\nfeelings are less comfortable. Of course much depends upon the man being\nsensitive or stolid, but in any case this matters little in the present\ninstance, as the illustration is merely used to symbolise the mental\nstate of Alice during the evening of her lover's absence. One moment she\nwas clothed in the radiance of perfect security and peace; the next, and\na dreadful gloom descended upon her bringing anguish and distress.\nNaturally there was no physical change, but in some inexplicable way she\nfelt that an inward light was quenched. Alice had never read St.\nTeresa's \"Castles of the Soul,\" or the explanations of that terrible\nsaint would have given her the key to her condition.\n\nAs it was she felt as though the sun had fallen from the sky, and\nquailed in the dense darkness pricked with feeble lights which now\nsurrounded her. Little as she knew it, those same lights represented the\nsum of what experience she had gained with painful learning through many\nsuccessive lives. The knowledge and attainments of Eberstein, who had\nreached an infinitely higher level than herself, beamed in that\nsplendour which had been withdrawn. But what little light she possessed\nand what greater light he had gained were only what each could receive\nof The True Light \"which lighteth every man that cometh into the world!\"\nHitherto, Eberstein had given for her use what glory he had earned;\nnow--since the child must learn to walk alone if it ever hopes to come\nto maturity--he had stood aside for the moment, so that she could make\nthe attempt with what strength she possessed. But Alice did not know all\nthis, and could only feel supremely wretched and forsaken.\n\nSo listless did she feel that there was no energy in her to dress for\ndinner. For two hours she sat in the drawing-room, already darkened by\nthe early gloom of the short autumnal day, longing to be in the haven of\nher lover's arms. Her lonely soul cried aloud for human sympathy, for\nhuman protection, since the higher love seemed to have withdrawn itself,\nand she put forth all the longing of her being to call back Douglas to\nher side. But no answer came. The gloom waxed denser, the silence became\nmore oppressive, and all the girl could do was to concentrate her mind\non Christ and His saving grace. There was some comfort to be got in\nmurmuring that holy name over and over again. She felt as though she\nwere drowning in a bitterly salt sea under a leaden sky, and that\ndespairing trust in the Blessed One was the spar to which she clung in\nthe hope of rescue. And unprotected as she was for the moment, save by\nher intuitive faith, she felt the evil forces of the house bear down\nupon her shuddering soul with terrific weight. She little knew how these\ndestroying influences were being directed by a Brother of the Shadow,\nand as little did she guess that he would be permitted to go so far and\nno farther. Knowledge of this state being a necessary ordeal would have\nhelped her to bear it; but the ignorance which made her sufferings more\nacute was part of the ordeal itself. And silent, unseen, motionless, the\nPowers of Good watched her endurance of the test.\n\nIn the library Narvaez, in an extraordinary state of excitement for one\nso trained to serenity, was conversing hurriedly with his pupil. He had\ncome over a quarter of an hour previously and was informing Enistor of\nthe girl's defenceless state. The Adversary had withdrawn his\nprotection, as Don Pablo knew in some mysterious way which he declined\nto explain to the Squire, so now was the time to put forth the dark\ninfluence of evil and make use of the girl's clairvoyant powers.\n\n\"They are untrained, it is true,\" said Narvaez, striving to be calm,\nsince he knew how much depended upon perfect self-control. \"But she is\nso pure and so powerful in her purity that when I loosen her soul from\nthe bonds of the flesh, she will be able to reach that exalted plane\nwhere she can read the past truthfully. Information will come through\nlittle coloured by her personality. I assure you, Enistor, as in so\nyoung and innocent a girl, it is not yet particularly strong. Where is\nshe?\"\n\n\"In the drawing-room! Moping in the dark.\"\n\n\"Ah, she feels the absence of her guardian, and is greatly bewildered.\nAll the better for our purpose.\"\n\n\"How are you going to manage?\" said the Squire anxiously. \"Alice hates\nyou, and will never submit to do anything for you.\"\n\nNarvaez sneered. \"But for The Adversary, I should have dominated her\nlong ago without difficulty. Now that the protection has been withdrawn\nshe is quite at the mercy of my superior knowledge and power. She can\nnever oppose her will to mine, as she is ignorant and I am wise.\"\n\n\"You won't hurt her,\" said Enistor uneasily, and silently astonished\nwith himself for giving way to such a kindly human feeling.\n\n\"No. Of course I won't,\" retorted the other impatiently. \"I shall send\nher to find out what we want, and then recall her. Why she is\nunsupported now I cannot learn; but certainly for the moment she has\nbeen left to walk alone. This is our hour, Enistor, so let us make the\nbest of it.\"\n\n\"How do you intend to act?\" questioned the father tensely.\n\n\"Place that arm-chair in the middle of the room: put the lamp behind\nyonder screen. I shall sit here by the window where she cannot see me:\nyou take up your position near the fire. Give me a saucer, a plate, a\nvase--anything.\"\n\nThe Squire obeyed these directions and sat down as instructed to watch\nthe doings of Don Pablo. That gentleman, taking a red-hot coal from the\nfire, dropped it on a bronze saucer of Indian workmanship which Enistor\nhad selected from amongst the ornaments on the mantelpiece. Placing this\non a small table which stood near the central chair, Narvaez shook over\nthe burning coal some special incense which he carried in a tiny golden\nbox. At once a thick white smoke fumed upward, and the room was filled\ngradually with a stupefying fragrance. With the lamp behind the Chinese\nscreen, the apartment was only faintly illuminated by the red glow of\nthe fire, which smouldered without flames in the grate. The Spaniard\nmoved about with an activity surprising in a man of his years, and when\nhe had completed his preparations retreated into the darkness near the\nheavily curtained window. Thence his voice came low, clear and piercing\nto the Squire.\n\n\"I am putting out my power to draw her here. Tell her when she comes to\nsit in the arm-chair yonder. My influence and the scent of the incense\nwill bring about the separation of the bodies, and she will go to the\nappointed place. You ask the questions, as my voice may move her to\nrebellion. Keep your brain passive and I will impress upon you what I\nwish to ask. You have been already trained to be receptive in this way,\nso you know what to do.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" breathed Enistor, sitting well back in his chair and fixing his\neyes on the library door, dimly seen in the reddish glow of the fire.\n\nNarvaez did not waste time in replying, but the Squire felt that he was\nnow radiating a tremendous influence, which seemed to extend beyond the\nwalls of the library and throughout the entire house. Shortly, swift\nunhesitating footsteps were heard, and Alice simply raced into the room,\nso speedily did she respond to the call. She had all her waking senses\nabout her, and was puzzled to understand the impulse which had sent her\nheadlong in search of her father.\n\n\"Do you want me?\" she asked, with quick laboured breathing, for the\noppression of the room was terrible. \"Why are you in the dark? What is\nthe matter?\"\n\n\"I want to talk to you about Montrose,\" said Enistor softly. \"Sit down\nin that arm-chair over there.\"\n\n\"About Douglas!\" Alice, with a weary sigh, dropped into the central\nchair, near the table where the incense curled upward in faint grey\nspirals, not discernible in the half-light. A whiff of the scent made\nthe girl drowsy, and closing her eyes, she rested her head on the back\nof the chair. The action brought her face nearer to the bronze dish, and\nwith the next breath she inhaled a lung-ful of the burning perfume. With\na choking sensation she strove to open her eyes and lean forward, but\nher body would not obey her will, and she rested, inert and powerless,\nwhere she was. There was a momentary struggle between spirit and matter,\na sick sensation of loosened bonds, and then she found herself standing\nupright gazing at her motionless body lying in the chair. It was alive\nand breathing, for she saw the rise and fall of the breast, but she, in\na similar body, stood apart from her physical vehicle, distinct, and--so\nfar as she knew--unattached. Before she had time to grasp the situation,\nthe library vanished, and she was environed by a restless atmosphere of\ncolour. It was as if she was clothed with the splendour of sunset, for\nthere was no hard-and-fast outline; no visible form: all was cloud and\ncolour, materials waiting to be shaped by the will into something which\nthe soul desired. The silence was like a benediction of peace. \"Higher!\nHigher!\" said the far-away voice of her father. \"Seek out the past\nwhere it is to be found. See yourself and those you know, in other\ntimes, in other climes, in other flesh.\" There was a pause, and then\ncame the telephonic voice again, repeating the orders of Narvaez. \"Use\nfor the past the names by which you and those you know are called\nto-day. Higher! Higher!\"\n\nAlice again felt that struggle of spirit and matter, and--no longer\nafraid as she had been--passed out of her second body to become\nconscious in a third one. Now, as she knew intuitively, she moved in the\nsphere of Tone, and everywhere rainbow light spoke in music, though\nstill she wandered in a cloudy atmosphere as in the heart of a many-hued\nopal. Wave after wave of murmuring light rolled over her, but there was\nno horizon, no boundaries, no up or down. She was in a dimension about\nwhich, as Alice Enistor, she knew nothing. But her eternal Self knew\nthat the place was familiar, as she--having stepped behind two veils of\nmatter--knew the Eternal Self.\n\n\"Seek out the Book of Time,\" commanded the thin voice which directed her\ndoings, and ghost of a sound as it was, it penetrated to her through the\nchoral harmonies of the glorious music.\n\nIn a moment everything as it were became solid, and she felt that she\nhad dropped again to the earth. Clothed in a larger and more majestic\nbody than that she wore as Alice Enistor, she moved amidst familiar\nsurroundings, knowing the landscape she moved through and the people\nwhom she found herself amongst. Then she was aware that she was still on\na higher plane and had travelled in time through five thousand years to\nre-live for the moment an incarnation of the past. The Book of Time, as\nshe dimly sensed it, was not a book, as the physical brain knows a book,\nbut a state of consciousness. At this moment, when the rainbow had\nvanished and the music had ceased, and--as it might be--she was living\namongst the living, her father's voice came for the third time.\n\n\"What do you see? What do you do? Who are you, and who are those you\nmingle with? Speak!\"\n\nSo she was not entirely detached from her body of Alice Enistor after\nall, since a thin thread of light ran from where she was to where she\nhad been when starting on the journey. Down that thread of light--so it\nseemed--she sent her voice: telegraphed, or telephoned, all that her\nfather wished to know. The necessary goal had been reached, the\nnecessary communication between the mental and physical planes had been\nestablished, and she proceeded to reply, compelled by some unknown\ninfluence which forced her to speak.\n\nIn the library Narvaez wiped the perspiration from his bald forehead,\nand sighed heavily with the efforts he had made to bring things to this\npoint. But he did not speak with his own tongue, lest the sound of his\nvoice should reach the girl in those far-off regions and make her\nrebellious. Silently he impressed his desires upon Enistor, and softly\nEnistor voiced those same desires, while he looked at the motionless\nfigure of his daughter reclining in the deep arm-chair.\n\n\"What do you see?\" asked Enistor, scarcely moving his lips, and in a\nthin silvery utterance, soft as a summer breeze, came the answer:\n\n\"I am looking on Chaldea, far back in the deeps of time. No--not\nlooking: I am living in Chaldea, as the priestess of a great\nStar-Angel.\"\n\n\"The name of the Star-Angel?\"\n\n\"You would call Him, Mars, although He has a different name in Chaldea.\nHe is the Planetary Spirit of Mars, and I serve in His temple. The\nChaldeans worship the Host of Heaven, as manifestations of the Logos,\nwhose visible symbol is the Sun. The Star-Angels of the seven planets\nare the seven Spirits before the Throne, mentioned in the Book of\nRevelation. The Logos is not the Absolute God from Whom emanated the\nUniverses, but the Being whose Body and Creation is the Solar System. He\nis the only God our consciousness can conceive. He is the One of this\ncreation manifesting Himself in the many: we are the many ever striving\nto return to Him, by learning through experience how voluntarily to\nchoose good instead of evil.\"\n\n\"Do the Chaldeans worship the Stars themselves?\"\n\n\"No. They worship the Angels of the Stars: the power inherent in each\nplanet which emanates from the mightier Power of the Sun-Logos. And His\nPower emanates from the Absolute God.\"\n\n\"Has each Angel a temple?\"\n\n\"Yes! And the Logos has a Temple also. These are all placed on a wide\nplain in a fashion symbolising the Solar System: like an orrery. One\ncollection of temples stands on one plain, another on another plain, and\nso on throughout Chaldea. On this plain where I live there is the great\nTemple of the Sun and near it the Temple of Vulcan; next that of\nMercury, then that of Venus, until the last temple far away in the\ndistance is dedicated to Neptune. The situations of the temples are\nreckoned to scale, and represent our System.\"\n\n\"Is there a Temple to the Earth-Angel?\"\n\n\"No! There is one to the Moon-Angel, and near it a small dome of black\nmarble typifying the Earth. But it is not a shrine.\"\n\n\"You are a priestess in the Temple of Mars?\"\n\n\"Yes! I wear a brilliant scarlet dress. The priestesses of Venus are in\nsky blue, and those of the Moon are clothed in silver, while the priests\nof the Sun wear cloth of gold. Each Star-Angel has His particular\ncolour, and each is worshipped in His own shrine. On great festivals all\nmeet in the great Sun-Temple to worship the Logos.\"\n\nThere was a restless movement in Don Pablo's corner. Enistor,\noverwhelmed with curiosity, was asking questions on his own account,\nthereby irritating his master, who wished for more intimate information.\nA twist of pain brought Enistor to his senses, and he hastily submitted\nhis will to that of Narvaez.\n\n\"Do you see me?\" was the next question asked, as instructed.\n\n\"Yes! You are the High Priest of Mars: a big fat man like a Chinaman,\nwith a rather cruel face. All the Chaldeans are like Chinese with yellow\nskins and oblong eyes.\"\n\n\"Perhaps they are Chinese.\"\n\n\"No! No. They are Turanians, the ancestors of the Mongolians. I am of\nthe Aryan race, and I don't like the Turanians, who are brutal and\nlawless. Perhaps that is why you are so cruel.\"\n\n\"Am I cruel? Why am I cruel?\"\n\n\"You like power, and desire to see every one at your feet. I am a vestal\nof the temple gifted with clairvoyance, and you use me to foresee the\nfuture and learn about other spheres. All this knowledge you turn to\nyour own advantage. Oh, you are wicked. You really don't worship the\nStar-Angel.\"\n\n\"Whom or What do I worship then?\" asked Enistor, again breaking away\nfrom Don Pablo's guidance, as the picture drawn by the clairvoyante did\nnot please him.\n\n\"The Powers of Darkness: the Elemental Powers. Sometimes you steal away\nfrom the Temple after dark to see a very evil man, who is teaching you\nhow to get power in a wrong way, through offering blood sacrifices.\"\n\n\"Who is the man?\" questioned Enistor, still using his own will, in spite\nof signals from Narvaez.\n\n\"He is Don Pablo now. Then he was an Atlantean magician: one of the\nLords of the Dark Face. You are his pupil, or rather his slave. He uses\nyour intellect to make himself more powerful. There is some good in you,\nhowever, and you try to break away every now and then, but the chains\nthat bind you are too strong.\"\n\nFor the first time Don Pablo spoke in a quietly enraged tone. \"Stop\nasking questions on your own account, or I shall hurt you, Enistor.\"\n\nA shiver passed through the body in the chair, as if that hated voice\nhad penetrated even to where Alice was, and had recalled the detestation\nin which she held the speaker. Enistor was minded to rebel, but he\nswiftly considered that if he did so at the moment, he might break the\nspell, and then would not learn about the threatened danger. Therefore,\nhe was obedient and set himself to obey his evil master. Narvaez became\nquiet again, and through his instrument asked another question.\n\n\"Do you live in the Temple of Mars?\"\n\n\"Yes, along with other vestals. But none of them possess such great\nclairvoyant powers as I do, and that is why I am valuable to you. But\nyou use my powers for bad purposes and I hate you. Behind you there is\nDon Pablo, with his dark designs, but I am supported,\" her voice took on\na note of triumph, \"I am supported by a good man, who is a priest of the\nSun. He works for good, and is trying to take me away from your\ninfluence.\"\n\n\"That is The Adversary.\"\n\n\"I don't know whom you mean by The Adversary. But he is now Dr.\nEberstein. Oh, and I see Douglas. He is a Chaldean noble and he loves\nme. He wants to carry me away from the Temple and from you, as you are\nkilling me with the demands you are making on my powers of clairvoyance.\nI love Douglas: I want to run away with him. But he is hot-headed and\nfoolish and will not take me away quietly. Dr. Eberstein tells him, when\nhe goes to the Sun-Temple, that if he waits everything will come out\nright. But Douglas will not wait.\"\n\n\"Do you see Hardwick?\" asked Narvaez, through Enistor's tongue.\n\n\"He is an old beggar-man who sits outside the Temple. I give him alms\nevery day and speak kindly to him. That is why he is so willing to help\nme now.\"\n\n\"Does Douglas carry you away?\"\n\nThere was a pause, and then the voice of the girl came sweet and clear:\n\"I am in the Sun-Temple. It is a great festival. All the worshippers of\nthe various Star-Angels are there in the dress and colour appointed to\neach. The Temple is built in the form of a cross with a hemispherical\ndome where the arms of the cross meet. It is something like St. Paul's\nCathedral. But between the arms of the cross are passages leading to\nvast halls, so the plan is different. In the east arm of the cross there\nis an altar to the Sun, and the west arm contains an altar to the Moon.\nThe great northern altar is for the whole Solar System, I think. The\nworship now is at this altar.\"\n\n\"What is the worship?\" asked Enistor, to Narvaez' unspeakable annoyance.\n\n\"It is night, and along the roof of the northern arm of the cross there\nis a slit through which the stars shine. Mars is being worshipped, and\nhis ruddy light shines through the slit on to a large silver mirror--I\nthink it is silver, but I am not sure. It is concave. Beneath it is a\nbrazier on which I am throwing incense. The priests and priestesses are\nsinging and the worshippers are bowing their heads, as the Star gleams\nfrom the mirror through the grey smoke of the incense. And then----\"\n\n\"Have done with all this nonsense,\" said Narvaez angrily, in his own\nvoice. \"Tell me about the carrying away.\"\n\nThe body in the chair shivered again, but the soul was obedient to the\npowerful influence. \"Douglas is there with many of his slaves. Towards\nthe end of the service, he breaks through the crowd of priests and takes\nme up in his arms. The priests try to stop him, but many are struck\ndown. There is a great tumult. You, father, as the High Priest of Mars,\nthrust at Douglas with a spear snatched from one of the slaves. Douglas\nlets me down for a moment, as I have fainted, and stabs at you with a\nknife. Oh,\" the voice shook with horror, \"he has stabbed you in the\nthroat. You fall and die, cursing him. I see Douglas carrying me away.\nDon Pablo is running beside him. He is drawing the life from me, and Dr.\nEberstein is looking on sadly. He can do nothing: he can do nothing.\"\n\n\"Why not?\" demanded Narvaez harshly, and now careless of using Enistor\nas his instrument.\n\n\"I owe you a life. I fell into your power when you were a magician in\nAtlantis--in the City of the Golden Gates. You have a right to take my\nlife, or to forgive me, as I killed you centuries before.\"\n\n\"But I did not forgive you. I never intend to forgive you,\" said Narvaez\ngrimly. \"You were mine then and suffered: you shall be mine again and\npay.\"\n\n\"Never! Never! By taking my life in Chaldea you lost your power. I was\nreborn free from your influence of the past, and you have tried again\nand again to get me once more under your spell. But Dr. Eberstein guards\nme. He will save me from you this time, as he has saved me before.\"\n\n\"He won't,\" declared the Spaniard savagely. \"You shall marry me and\nagain become my slave to use your powers for my benefit.\"\n\n\"I shall not marry you. I paid my debt of the past in Chaldea when you\nkilled me. Douglas carried me safely away and then found that I was\ndead: you drew the life out of me in revenge for what I did to you in\nAtlantis. Douglas would have been killed for his sacrilege, but Dr.\nEberstein as his friend, the Priest of the Sun, helped him to escape\nfrom Chaldea. Douglas became a hermit and died very penitent. Dr.\nEberstein told him that he had lost me for thousands of years through\nhis hot-headed haste, but that we would come together again when the\npast was expiated.\"\n\n\"But it is not,\" cried Don Pablo triumphantly. \"Montrose owes Enistor a\nlife. To pay that he must give his own life: he is at your father's\nmercy.\"\n\n\"Douglas will pay the debt, but not in the way you wish him to pay it.\"\n\n\"Enistor will enforce payment.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Squire, his eyes glittering. \"Now I know why I hated him\nthe moment we met. He killed me in Chaldea: he has robbed me in England;\nI shall demand the payment of both debts.\"\n\n\"I feel the evil forces that are working in you both,\" said Alice\nwearily, \"and they hurt me. The book is closed: do let me come back.\"\n\n\"Stay where you are and search out the future,\" commanded Narvaez, with\na snarl of fierce command. \"Search.\"\n\n\"I cannot see the future. It is on a higher plane where past and present\nare one,\" came the thin, tired voice, for the girl was becoming\nexhausted physically with the long-continued strain.\n\n\"Go to the higher plane: you can do so.\"\n\n\"Something stops me. There is a barrier I cannot pass. You are not\npermitted to know. Father and I and Douglas have to work out by our\nknowledge in the flesh the drama begun in Chaldea. This much is allowed:\nno more.\"\n\n\"But the danger which threatens me?\"\n\n\"There are black clouds: red clouds: wicked clouds. You are cutting\nyourself off from the Life of God: you are isolating yourself from\ncreation. You want to drag my father with you, out of space, out of\nTime, out of the arms of God. Oh, it is too terrible: it is too\nterrible. Let me return.\"\n\n\"See the future,\" shouted Narvaez, defiant as Satan in his isolating\npride.\n\n\"I cannot: I dare not: I will not. I call upon Christ for help. Save me\nfrom this wicked being, O Power of Love. Deliver me from evil, Our\nFather who art in Heaven.\"\n\nWhat happened at the moment Enistor never quite knew. He saw Narvaez\nadvance to the middle of the room, looking powerful and making defiant\ngestures of insane pride. Then all the strength seemed to leave him, and\nhe dropped on the floor like a stone, becoming motionless and powerless,\na mere mass of evil matter uncontrolled by his wicked will. At the same\ntime Alice stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and looked through the dim\nlights to where her father gripped the mantelpiece appalled at the\nconquest of his dark master by some invisible power he could neither\nhear, nor see, nor feel.\n\n\"You wish to speak to me about Douglas, father?\" asked Alice languidly,\nand taking up her life at the point it had ceased when Narvaez laid his\nwicked spell upon her. \"Oh!\" she rose with a gesture of repulsion as\nshe saw the prostrate form. \"Don Pablo. I would not have come if I had\nknown he was here.\"\n\n\"That is all right, Alice,\" said Enistor, recovering his will-power and\nspeech. \"He only came a short time ago, and withdrew into the shadow\nwhile I spoke to you about Douglas.\"\n\n\"But I didn't see him fall. I didn't hear him fall!\" stammered the girl.\n\n\"The perfume made you faint for the moment,\" said the Squire, taking the\nlamp from behind the screen. \"We must postpone our talk, Alice, as the\nheat of the room has made Narvaez faint. Go to bed. I shall attend to\nhim.\"\n\n\"Good-night,\" said the girl, without arguing, and touching her father's\nlips with her own she went away. The hour of darkness had passed, and\nthough she felt languid--with the strain she supposed that she had\nendured in the drawing-room--yet the light had returned and she felt\nsafe.\n\nEnistor, left alone, touched the old man, wondering how he would be able\nto revive him, as this was no ordinary faint. But the moment Alice left\nthe room Narvaez sat up, apparently his usual self.\n\n\"Did The Adversary strike you down?\" asked the Squire, still pale and\nunstrung.\n\n\"No! It was One I do not choose to name. But I defy Him! I defy Him!\" He\nshook his fists in the air with impotent anger. \"I shall win yet! I\nshall win yet!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE DISCIPLE OF LOVE\n\n\nNext day at noon, Montrose returned to Tremore accompanied by the\ndoctor, to be received by the housekeeper, as Mr. Enistor had gone to\nsee Se\u00f1or Narvaez, and Alice was still in bed. Knowing from Eberstein\nthat the girl had been submitted to an ordeal, Douglas anxiously\ndemanded if she was ill. But, much to his relief, the answer immediately\nreassured him.\n\n\"Ill, sir? No, sir,\" responded the housekeeper, who was a voluble\ntalker, \"though she did go to bed early last night with no dinner and\nonly a glass of milk to keep her up, which isn't enough nourishment for\na young thing like Miss Alice. But she was sleeping so lovely that the\nmaster said she had better sleep on. But I think she is getting up now,\nsir, and when she knows that you are here, sir----\" the housekeeper\nlooked significantly at the young man and departed smiling, with her\nsentence uncompleted. She was an old and valued servant, who quite\napproved of the match.\n\n\"You are sure Alice hasn't suffered?\" demanded Montrose for the\ntwentieth time, and prowling restlessly about the drawing-room.\n\n\"Nothing to speak of,\" answered the doctor serenely, explaining himself\nas he would have done to a child. \"Narvaez and his pupil were permitted\nto go so far and no farther. They have learned what they wished to\nknow, and I hope the knowledge will do them both good.\"\n\n\"What is the knowledge?\"\n\n\"There is no need for you to know at present, my friend. You saw what\nyou did see in my London house, and with that you must be content to\nwork out your present Destiny.\"\n\n\"If it is a case of Destiny I am helpless, doctor.\"\n\n\"I think not. Certain things must happen because you put certain forces\ninto action five thousand years ago. But such events will work out for\ngood or bad, as you apply the Law of Love or the Law of Hate. Man makes\nhis own Karma, but he can modify the same to a certain extent by using\nhis will-power.\"\n\nMontrose sighed. \"I am so much in the dark, I don't know how to act.\"\n\n\"You will know how to act when the time comes, if you are true to the\nteaching of Christ,\" said Eberstein gently.\n\n\"But if you would only advise me what to do?\"\n\n\"In that case you would only gain the Karma of obedience: good in\nitself, but less than is demanded. Your future has to do at the moment\nwith Alice and her father and Narvaez, but if I told you the precise\nreasons why you have come together, you would be hampered in your\nactions. Watch and pray, my friend, and abide by the Law of Love. Then\nyou will receive the guidance of the Blessed One, who is building up\nHimself within you.\"\n\n\"I shall do my best.\"\n\n\"That is all that is asked of you and of any one. If a man acts up to\nthe highest ideal he can conceive, nothing more is demanded. And one\nword of warning, Montrose. Alice is quite ignorant of the use made of\nher clairvoyant powers last night. Therefore do not ask indiscreet\nquestions.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that she does not know what she told Narvaez and her\nfather?\"\n\n\"No, she does not. Ignorance is as necessary for her as for you at\npresent.\"\n\nMontrose objected. \"If you would only point out the pitfalls to both of\nus, doctor, we might avoid them.\"\n\n\"These same pitfalls are the creation of your own free-will, and of your\nown free-will you must avoid them,\" said Eberstein decisively. \"Only\nexperience will teach the necessary lesson which has to be learned, and\nby making yourself receptive to the Eternal Ego you can always gain the\nguidance of the Great One, who works through that same Ego.\"\n\nThe young man sighed again, for this epigrammatic teaching was so\ndifficult and--to him--so involved that he wondered why Eberstein did\nnot speak plainly and have done with it. Walking to the window and\nlooking out at the dark woodland a stone's-throw away, where the trees\nwere being tormented by a blustering wind, he pondered over the problem,\nbut could find no answer thereto. After a pause, Eberstein advanced and\nlaid a kind hand on his shoulder, reading his thoughts and pitying his\nperplexity.\n\n\"Our teaching is meant to stimulate the mind,\" he said impressively.\n\"Therefore hints are given rather than full explanations, and the pupil\nhas to use his brains to expand those hints into the necessary\nknowledge. In this way he progresses, as what he gains by this system\nof instruction is thoroughly learned, which would not be the case if his\npath were made easier.\"\n\n\"I think Christ taught in the way you mention,\" mused Montrose. \"I\nremember how many of His sayings puzzled me--and for the matter of that\nstill do.\"\n\nEberstein nodded. \"Regarding earthly things He spoke plainly, as in the\ncase of giving tribute to C\u00e6sar, because people could understand. But as\nthey were unable to comprehend heavenly things the Blessed One could\nonly instruct them in parables, and give hints. By doing this last He\nroused those He spoke to into puzzling out the meaning.\"\n\n\"Give me an example.\"\n\n\"The Four Gospels are filled with examples. To take one instance. When\nthe people asked: 'Who is this Son of Man?' Jesus replied, 'Yet a little\nwhile is the light with you!' If the people could have connected the\nsaying about the Light of the World with this speech, they would have\ngrasped the fact that He spoke of Himself. He was the Son of Man: He was\nthe Light of the World. But,\" quoted Eberstein sadly from St. John's\nGospel, \"though He had done so many miracles before them, yet they\nbelieved not on Him.\"\n\nBefore Montrose could comment on this speech, Alice entered the room and\nflew like a homing bird to her nest in his arms. She looked weak and\nvery pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and had a general\nappearance of debility. For the moment she did not notice the doctor,\nbut could only weep on her lover's breast. Mindful that he was not to\nask indiscreet questions, Douglas could only smooth her hair and\nwhisper comfortable endearments. After a time, Alice responded to this\ngentle treatment.\n\n\"I am so glad you have come, Douglas,\" she faltered wearily. \"Last night\nI had two hours of great suffering in this very room. I felt as though\nall light were withdrawn and just as if I had fallen into an Abyss of\nDarkness. Then I heard, or fancied I heard, my father calling for me and\nwent into the library, where he was sitting almost in the dark. He said\nthat he wanted to speak about you. But I saw Se\u00f1or Narvaez lying on the\nfloor, and refused to stay. I went to bed and slept for hours and hours.\nI have just got up.\"\n\n\"Why was Se\u00f1or Narvaez lying on the floor?\" asked Eberstein quietly, and\nmore to set her at her ease than because he wished for a reply.\n\n\"Oh, doctor, how are you? I am so glad you have come. Don't think me\nrude not saying anything. I feel so upset. My father said that Se\u00f1or\nNarvaez had fainted with the heat of the room. It was hot.\"\n\n\"How long were you in the library?\" asked Douglas with anxiety.\n\n\"Only a few moments. I could not bear to stay where Se\u00f1or Narvaez was.\"\n\nEberstein glanced significantly at Montrose to draw attention to the\nfact that Alice was quite unaware of the flight of time when undergoing\nher ordeal. Then he asked her to sit down and spoke gently as he took\nher two hands within his own. \"You said that you were in darkness. That\nis not the case now.\"\n\n\"No, it isn't, doctor. The feeling of light came back when I went to\nbed, and I did not feel so miserable. I was glad to sleep. And yet,\"\nAlice looked at the two men in a bewildered manner, \"the rest doesn't\nseem to have done me any good. I feel as if I had walked miles. Do you\nthink that what I suffered from the darkness last night has exhausted\nme?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Eberstein quietly. \"That was the hour of your Gethsemane.\nNow you are feeling better: the light is around you again: the\nlife-forces are rebuilding your strength. Look into my eyes.\"\n\nInstinctively obedient, Alice did so. Already through the doctor's hands\nshe felt a warm current passing up her arms and into her body, but when\nshe met his steady grey eyes the magnetism of the life-power he was\ngiving her tingled throughout her entire frame. The brightness returned\nto her eyes, the colour of health flushed her cheeks: her nerves ceased\nto thrill with pain, and her muscles grew strong. In silent astonishment\nMontrose looked at the rapid transformation which was taking place under\nhis eyes. From a colourless statue, the girl warmed into rosy life, and\nwhen Eberstein dropped her hands she sprang to her feet to stand in the\nshaft of sunlight which had broken through the heavy clouds of the\nautumnal day.\n\n\"Oh, I feel that I have been born again to a more splendid life,\" she\ncried in ecstasy, and looked as though she were transfigured, which\ncertainly was the case. \"Oh, thank you, doctor: thank you: thank you.\nHow did you do it?\"\n\n\"Yes. How did you do it?\" asked Douglas, also intensely curious.\n\n\"I suppose you would call it a case of hypnotic suggestion,\" smiled\nEberstein, putting his explanation in simple words which they could\nunderstand. \"I have stimulated Alice's will to command the inflowing of\nthe life-currents from the vital body into the physical, and have added\na trifle of my own strength, which I can well spare.\"\n\n\"It is wonderful: wonderful,\" cried Alice, radiant with unusual life,\nand smiling like the goddess of spring.\n\n\"All things are wonderful, because all things are God. He manifests in\nthe many. Thank Him, my child!\"\n\nAlice was silent for a moment and breathed an inward prayer of profound\ngratitude, which was echoed in the thoughts of her lover. Then she\ndescended to earth and apologised for the absence of her father. \"He\nwent to see if Don Pablo was better, and will be back to luncheon. That\nwas the message he sent up to my room.\"\n\n\"I quite understand,\" said Eberstein, nodding gravely. \"Of course Don\nPablo is an old man, and has not much strength.\"\n\n\"You could give it to him,\" said Alice, rejoicing in her glorious\nvitality.\n\n\"I could but cannot, because Don Pablo would refuse to accept help from\nme, and I could but will not, because he would turn such strength to an\nevil purpose.\"\n\nAlice nodded and shivered. \"He is not a good man. I hate him.\"\n\n\"You must pity him. He is not good, it is true, but that is because he\nis dominated by his lower self. For him as for all men God has nothing\nbut everlasting love.\"\n\n\"But he is my enemy,\" remonstrated the girl, perplexed. \"I feel that he\nis my enemy, doctor.\"\n\n\"What of that? Does not the Great Master tell us to love our enemies?\"\n\n\"But that standard is impossible to reach,\" said Montrose quickly.\n\n\"If you act in your own strength it is. But all things are possible with\nGod, and only in His strength do we conquer. Do not think of Narvaez as\nbad, for by doing so your angry thoughts add to the burden of evil he\nbears. Send thoughts of love and pity to refresh his struggling soul,\nwhich the animal forces are striving to overwhelm.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for him in one way,\" murmured Alice. \"At least I think that\nI am sorry.\"\n\n\"You have every reason to be, but I don't think you truly are,\" said\nEberstein dryly. \"Because you read the letter of the commandment and do\nnot comprehend the spirit. I cannot very well explain either to you or\nto Montrose, as your limitations are yet great. But I ask you both to\npity the man and to hope that he may grow better.\"\n\n\"Oh, I shall do that,\" said Douglas readily. \"There is great room for\nimprovement, isn't there?\"\n\n\"In Narvaez, as in you, and in Alice, and in Enistor. Who can afford to\nthrow a stone at any one?\"\n\nMontrose flushed a trifle at the implied rebuke, but never dreamed of\ndefending himself, as he looked upon the doctor as an oracle to be\nlistened to and obeyed with all reverence. Eberstein smiled approvingly\nwhen he noted how the young man curbed both thought and word, then\nchanged the subject by commenting on the impressive looks of the house\nand its commanding situation. Alice was gratified to hear Tremore\npraised, but hinted at the uncomfortable atmosphere of the place.\n\n\"I always feel as though I were battling against depression here,\ndoctor. The rooms and furniture are both so sombre.\"\n\n\"Every house has its own psychic atmosphere, which comes from the\nsayings and doings of those who live in it,\" explained the visitor. \"I\ncannot say that the influence of this beautiful place tends to calm the\nspirit.\"\n\nMontrose agreed. \"When I first came here I felt that it was a kind of\nbattle-ground, full of tumult and war.\"\n\n\"And so it is. Invisible forces of good and evil strive here\ncontinuously as I can feel. You sense them also, Alice, as you are more\nor less clairvoyant.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" admitted the girl, with a nervous glance round the room.\n\"And the evil is stronger than the good, I fancy.\"\n\n\"At present that is the case. But we must change the conditions and make\nthis house a centre of holy power to bless instead of curse.\"\n\n\"You will have to keep Narvaez out of the place then,\" observed Douglas\nabruptly. \"And that will be difficult, as he is a friend of the\nSquire's.\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" said Eberstein calmly. \"I came here to aid Mr. Enistor, as\nwell as to help you and Alice. He is being wrongly guided by Narvaez.\"\n\nAs if the mention of his name had evoked his presence, the Squire made\nhis appearance unexpectedly. He did not look pleased, as Don Pablo had\nrefused to see him, for the first time during their acquaintanceship.\nEnistor therefore returned in a somewhat gloomy frame of mind, but\nsmoothed his brow and assumed his company manners when he greeted the\ndoctor. He knew well enough that his guest was \"The Adversary\" so often\nmentioned by Narvaez, but knew also how the Law of Love which Eberstein\nobeyed prevented hostile treatment. He therefore felt safe and indeed\nrather contemptuous, since he was unfettered by scruples himself, and\ndid not care what means he employed against the aims of the doctor,\nwhatever they might be. Yet the downfall of Narvaez on the previous\nnight should have warned him against over-confidence, and would have\ndone so had not the man been so besotted with intellectual pride.\nEberstein knew of this Satanic attitude, but gave no sign of his\nknowledge beyond a pitying glance at Enistor's powerful face when they\nshook hands.\n\n\"You have a beautiful place here,\" he remarked lightly. \"I was just\nadmiring the position when you came in.\"\n\n\"It is well enough, but a trifle lonely,\" said the Squire rather\nungraciously. \"Still, I can amuse you by showing our family treasures,\nwhich are many. How do you feel, Alice?\" he asked, turning abruptly to\nhis daughter, and anxiously wondering if she was aware of the\ninformation she had given on the previous night. \"I hope you are\nbetter.\"\n\n\"Oh, I am quite well now, father. Dr. Eberstein has done me good.\"\n\n\"I have an excellent bedside manner,\" interposed Eberstein quickly, as\nhe did not wish Alice to explain too much. \"And I have cheered up Miss\nEnistor.\"\n\n\"That is well. She had a fit of the blues last night, and would not\nlisten to what I had to say to her in the library.\"\n\n\"Se\u00f1or Narvaez was there and he always makes me uncomfortable,\"\nprotested the girl in a troubled way.\n\n\"You are full of fancies, Alice,\" retorted Enistor in an acid tone. \"And\nas Narvaez had fainted you might have remained to help me. However, it\nwas just as well you retired to bed and slept for such a long time, as\nyou were not quite yourself last night. Well,\" he added with an\nassumption of benevolence, \"as Montrose was away from you, it was\nnatural you should feel dismal. Ah, these young men, doctor: they steal\nthe hearts of our children.\"\n\n\"And exhibit no shame in doing so,\" said Eberstein humorously. \"Cupid\nwas ever a robber, Mr. Enistor.\"\n\nThen the gong thundered an invitation to luncheon, which proved to be a\ntruly delightful meal. Alice, with her recovered strength, was filled\nwith the joy of life, and Douglas, seeing her in such good spirits, was\nvery merry in his turn. As to the doctor, he made himself so\nentertaining in talking of all that was going on in the great world that\nEnistor unbent considerably, and silently acknowledged that The\nAdversary was better company than Narvaez. By the end of the meal, both\nSquire and doctor were on the best of terms. Not for many a long day had\nsuch gaiety reigned at Tremore.\n\nAfter luncheon Alice and Douglas stole away after the fashion of lovers\nwho desire solitude to express their feelings freely. Enistor was left\nalone to entertain his guest, and conducted the doctor to the library,\nto show him certain black-letter folios which were of great antiquity\nand great value. Eberstein, charmed with the treasures of the library\nand with the spacious room, revealed himself to be no mean judge of\nbooks and furniture and ancient manuscripts. More than ever Enistor felt\nthat this debonair gentleman was not to be feared and became uncommonly\nfriendly with him.\n\n\"I wish you would come and stay here for a week, doctor,\" he said\nimpulsively. \"It is such a pleasure to meet any one so well read and\nwell informed on all subjects as you are.\"\n\n\"You flatter me,\" responded the doctor cordially. \"I should be delighted\nto accept your invitation, and may do at a later date. Meanwhile, I have\nbusiness which detains me in Perchton for a short time. But you have the\nsociety of Se\u00f1or Narvaez,\" he added, with a keen glance. \"And I hear\nfrom Mr. Hardwick, whom I met yesterday, that he is most entertaining.\"\n\n\"Hardly the word to be used,\" said Enistor composedly, and wondering why\nthe reference was made. \"He is learned and serious.\"\n\n\"I don't see why learning need necessarily involve seriousness.\nKnowledge should make one happy, and happiness shows itself in gaiety.\"\n\nEnistor, fidgeting with a parchment, frowned. \"Do you think that\nknowledge should make one happy?\"\n\n\"Why not, if the knowledge be rightly applied?\"\n\n\"In what way?\"\n\n\"To help others less learned.\"\n\n\"Why should it be?\" demanded Enistor defiantly.\n\n\"Why should it not be?\" countered the doctor swiftly. \"What is the use\nof hiding one's light under a bushel?\"\n\n\"That is a strange sentiment from you, doctor. It implies vanity, as if\nyou wished others to see and envy your light. Well, I suppose that would\nbe a source of gratification to any one.\"\n\n\"It is but a narrow mind that finds gratification in possessing what\nanother person lacks. You will find the explanation of my real meaning\nin saying what surprises you in the text: 'Let your light so shine\nbefore men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father\nwhich is in heaven.' It is the Father who does the works, and the Father\ntherefore should surely receive the praise.\"\n\n\"Who is the Father?\"\n\n\"In the greater sense God, in the minor degree The Ego, which is a part\nof God. Through the minor power the greater power works, and to Him be\nthe glory, Mr. Enistor. I daresay you know something of these things.\"\n\n\"I know a great deal,\" said the Squire in a proud tone, \"but I do not\ninterpret them as you do. If I do anything I take the praise to myself.\nIt is I who do it, not this Father, big or little, you talk about.\"\n\nEberstein quoted solemnly: \"Thou couldst have no power at all against\nMe, except it were given thee from above.\"\n\n\"That is from the Bible, I take it,\" said Enistor scornfully. \"Well,\nyou see, I don't believe in the Bible. It is a series of old documents\nfilled with contradictions and mistakes and impossibilities.\"\n\n\"Ah, you think so because you read the letter and do not understand the\nspirit. If you were not so limited you would comprehend the true meaning\nof the contradictions and mistakes which puzzle you.\"\n\n\"They don't puzzle me,\" retorted the other resentfully. \"Such rubbish is\nnot worth puzzling about. And I am not limited in any way.\"\n\n\"Ah. Then your knowledge is as wide as that of--shall we say Narvaez?\"\n\n\"No. But then he is an older man and has had more time to study. But I\nam learning swiftly.\"\n\n\"And the personality you know as Squire Enistor of Tremore is taking all\nthat learning to use for its own ends.\"\n\n\"Why not, when such personality is myself?\"\n\n\"The lower self: all the self you know,\" corrected Eberstein serenely.\n\n\"What other self is there?\"\n\n\"The Greater Self: that spark of God, which is you--the Eternal You.\nBring your learning to That, Enistor, and you will become One with the\nGreat Father through Christ the Son by the influence of the Holy Ghost.\"\n\n\"Well, if I am that Greater Self, as you say, I work for myself, and\ntherefore deserve praise for my work and the reward also.\"\n\n\"You work only for the limited self which you know. You are not aware of\nyour Greater Self, because it is veiled from you. All you are doing at\npresent is to thicken those veils instead of thinning them. Are you not\naware that God is the One manifesting Himself in us, the Many? We are\nall striving to return to Him, the source of our Being. This being the\ncase, through life after life we have to widen our limitations, so that\ninstead of knowing ourselves as man--as you do--we come to know\nourselves as gods, one with the Great God, yet individualised for His\nholy purpose. Why do you seek to limit your powers, to circumscribe your\nknowledge?\"\n\n\"What rubbish you talk, doctor,\" cried the Squire, opening his eyes in\ngenuine amazement. \"Why, I am trying hard to increase my knowledge and\ngain power.\"\n\n\"Power for yourself,\" said Eberstein quickly, \"and by so doing you are\nnarrowing your circle of action. By giving, you widen out to the\nconsciousness of the Deity: by taking, you build yourself a little hut\nin which you sit as a very shabby little god.\"\n\n\"But Narvaez has powers you do not dream of.\"\n\n\"I know more about Narvaez than you think, Mr. Enistor. He is doing in a\nmuch greater degree what you are striving to do in a smaller way under\nhis misguided instruction. Was not the warning given last night in this\nvery room enough to shake your faith in his powers?\"\n\nThe Squire started back frowning. \"You know what took place?\"\n\n\"Of course I know, and you know that I know. Come, Enistor, let us talk\nfreely, for I want to help you, and you need more help than you dream\nof. Narvaez calls me The Adversary, and so I am: not so much adverse to\nyou and him, as to your doings. Your spirit is one with my spirit, as\nis that of Narvaez', and I wish to aid that other part of myself to\nfight against the animal self which is trying to overpower it. The\nspirit cannot be harmed overmuch truly; but the soul can be made a slave\nto the senses.\"\n\n\"Have you come here to measure your strength against mine?\" demanded\nEnistor in a furious manner.\n\nEberstein smiled. \"If I put forth my strength against Narvaez, much less\nagainst you, the result would surprise you. But I act under the Law of\nLove, which gives every man free-will, and does not allow domination.\"\n\n\"Narvaez was dominated last night,\" admitted the Squire reluctantly.\n\"Did you strike him down?\"\n\n\"No. A Great Power struck him down in very mercy, as he was going too\nfar, and it is hoped that the warning may turn him from his evil ways.\nHe is my brother as well as you are, Enistor, and I wish to help you\nboth.\"\n\n\"I don't want your help, unless you can make me rich and powerful.\"\n\n\"I could make you both, and you would use what I gave you to damn\nyourself yet deeper. Narvaez is dragging you down to the abyss into\nwhich he is surely descending. In Atlantis he lured you into his nets by\npromising to gratify your desire for personal power over men; by giving\nyou wealth to pander to your animal passions. Life after life, as in\nChaldea, he has made you more and more his slave by working through your\nsenses.\"\n\n\"I am not a slave!\" cried Enistor indignantly.\n\n\"Indeed you are. To Narvaez and to your own evil passions. You, who are\na god in the making, obey him. Like Judas Iscariot he is a son of\nperdition and wishes to make you one also, because your intellect is\nuseful to him. Again and again, in many lives, you have been helped in\norder that you may break away from this bondage; but you will not, and\nuntil of your own free will you elect to break away, nothing can be done\nto save you.\"\n\n\"Where is the boasted power of Christ?\" sneered Enistor contemptuously.\n\n\"Poor soul, why blaspheme? Christ stands at the door of your heart\nwaiting until you open the door. He does not enter unless He is invited,\nso how can He use what you call His boasted power, unless you will\naccept His aid. Humble yourself, Enistor. Say as did the prodigal son:\n'Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more\nworthy to be called thy son.' Then you will learn how great is His\nmercy: how sweet His compassion.\"\n\n\"I refuse: I refuse! I am myself: none shall rule me.\"\n\n\"Narvaez rules you, and will you bend to him rather than to the Holy\nOne?\"\n\n\"I make use of Narvaez!\"\n\n\"He makes use of you rather. Oh, blind, blind! Already he is plotting\nand scheming to gain you riches in this life as he did in others, so\nthat he may bind you the more securely to him.\"\n\n\"If that is the case why don't you thwart his schemes?\" taunted Enistor.\n\n\"He has free-will, and must act according to his own judgment. Moreover,\nthose he plots against are delivered into his hand by their own acts.\nOne is, at all events. Alice escaped from his rule in Chaldea when he\nslew her by his black magic, and since then he has striven vainly to\nenchain her again. Montrose is at his mercy and at yours, because of the\ncrime he committed in the Temple of the Star-Angel. He stabbed you and\ncarried away a vestal, in spite of my warnings. For this reason Narvaez\nhas power over him, and as, through love, the Karma of Alice is\nconnected with the Karma of Montrose, she has to suffer in a vicarious\nway. But Narvaez cannot rule her.\"\n\n\"He can rule Montrose however,\" sneered the Squire.\n\n\"Not in the way you think. Ignorance has made Montrose helpless, as he\nsinned through blind passion. But he has not deliberately given himself\nover to the Dark Powers as you have.\"\n\n\"I have not given myself over.\"\n\n\"You have--believe me you have,\" insisted Eberstein. \"And even now your\nevil master fears lest you should escape, as your soul is striving\nmightily. There are germs of good in you which I am trying to awaken.\nNow a great chance is being given to you to escape from the bondage of\nsin. See that you take it.\"\n\n\"What chance?\"\n\n\"Montrose owes you a life: he is possessed of a fortune which you think\nyou ought to have. Forgive him his sin against you, and admit that he\nhas a right to keep the fortune. Then your chains will break.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\"\n\n\"The greater will be your sufferings, both in this life and in others.\"\n\n\"You threaten, do you?\"\n\n\"I plead and warn. But I see that you will not listen, therefore I talk\nin vain.\" Eberstein was silent for a moment, then added quietly, \"But it\nmay be that the Blessed One working through Montrose may save you yet.\nGreat is the mercy of God and great is His patience.\"\n\nEberstein then left the room. Enistor gazed after him with a sneer.\n\"Why, I believe he is afraid of me,\" he muttered, with inconceivable\nfoolishness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE DISCIPLE OF HATE\n\n\nDr. Eberstein came and went like a gleam of sunshine. His mere presence\ncomforted the lovers, since they felt that he would be a source of\nstrength in time of trouble. Truly that time had not yet arrived, but\nthe hint given of its proximity made those who were destined to suffer\nboth uneasy and apprehensive. As the doctor refused to explain what was\nabout to take place sooner or later, the suspense was extraordinarily\ntrying, and only the profound faith of the lovers in their tried friend\nenabled them to endure. At present, things certainly went smoothly,\nsince Narvaez had ceased to persecute and Enistor was apparently\nagreeable to the marriage. Nevertheless the young couple felt insecure\nand sensed clouds gathering swiftly in the summer sky. It was the\nominous calm before the breaking of the storm, and the sole comfort lay\nin the fact that Eberstein remained at Perchton, able and willing on\ntheir behalf to deal with the problematic future.\n\nAs to Enistor, after his one interview with the doctor he scoffed at the\nidea of such a man endangering the success of his schemes. In common\nwith the majority of people, the Squire considered a loving disposition\nto be a distinct sign of weakness, and Eberstein's tolerant arguments\nonly strengthened this belief. Judging the disciple of love by his own\nlimitations, Enistor assured himself that if the doctor really possessed\npower he would make use of it to gain what he wanted. The Squire was not\nvery clear in his mind as to what Eberstein really did want, but\nnevertheless believed that to secure his ends he would long since have\nexhibited some capacity to enforce obedience on his enemies. But far\nfrom doing this, or even threatening, the doctor had merely talked\nethically. Enistor scouted such chatter, since he could not, and indeed\nwould not, believe that the power of love was stronger than, or even as\nstrong as, the power of hate. The fact that Narvaez had been reduced to\nimpotence when exercising his evil will should have warned the Squire\nthat he had to deal with overwhelming forces, but he shut his eyes to\nsuch a plain revelation and persisted obstinately in believing that he\nwas superior to the gigantic power of good. It was simply a case of\n\"neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead,\" and\nEnistor declined to believe the evidence of his own eyes. There is\nnothing stops the progress of any one so much as intellectual pride,\nsince it persistently distorts the truth into what it wishes to believe\n_is_ the truth.\n\nDon Pablo could have enlightened him, since he was not foolish enough to\nunderestimate the forces with which he fought, even though in his insane\npride he pitted himself against those very forces. But Don Pablo had\nshut himself in his cottage, and again and again refused to see his\npupil. And Enistor could not force himself upon the seclusion of the\nsage, as he knew by experience that Narvaez, less considerate than\nEberstein, would do him an injury if annoyed. So the Squire likewise\nhad to wait as did Alice and her lover. The nerves of all three were\nstrung up to breaking-point, and the atmosphere of Tremore became more\nthan ever insistently oppressive.\n\nTo escape the pressure Alice went down to see Dame Trevel in the\nvillage, leaving Douglas to write sundry letters. Afterwards he was to\njoin her on the moors, so that they might go for a lengthy walk before\ndinner. The old nurse was at home as usual, but Alice was surprised to\nfind Hardwick with her. The artist looked like a wax image for paleness,\nand was seated in the pet chair of the hostess with the appearance of a\nman who had not long to live. The momentary improvement in his health\nwhen he had gone to Perchton had passed away, and Alice uttered an\nexclamation of dismay.\n\n\"Oh, Julian, how ill you look! You should be in bed.\"\n\n\"And that's what I tell him, my dear,\" said Mrs. Trevel, looking\nanxiously at the young man. \"Bed for the likes of he, say I.\"\n\n\"I'm sick of bed,\" said Julian, in a pettish tone quite foreign to his\nusual speech. \"It does me no good to lie like a log day after day. Thank\nGod, it won't be long now before the end comes.\"\n\n\"Oh, Julian, don't talk in that way,\" cried Alice tearfully.\n\n\"My dear, I have done all I can, and the result is of the worst. The\nPerchton doctor can do no good, and even Montrose's friend says that I\nshall never get better. There is nothing organically wrong. I am just\ndying of sheer debility.\"\n\n\"But careful nursing----\"\n\nMrs. Trevel shook her ancient head. \"Nursing and doctors and medicine\nwon't do the gentleman any good, Miss Alice. He's come to me for some\nherbal cure, but there's nothing I can give. Only the Almighty can renew\nhis strength.\"\n\n\"The Almighty does not see fit to do so,\" said Julian moodily. \"Don't\ncry, for heaven's sake, Alice. Tears are of no use. After all it is just\nas well you refused to marry me, as I should soon have left you a widow,\nand an unprovided-for widow at that. Until your father found me\ninsensible on the moor no one knew my secret, not even my sister; and I\nalways managed to keep up, even to racing you to Tremore, if you\nremember.\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember! I never dreamed you had anything the matter with you.\"\n\n\"Nor did any one else save a London doctor. But of late this debility\nhas gained on me, and the end is very near. My dear, I was selfish to\npropose to you without telling the truth.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't say that, Julian. Can nothing be done?\"\n\n\"Nothing! My heart may stop at any moment, as the Perchton doctor says.\nOne comfort I have and that is an easy death awaits me.\" Hardwick began\nto laugh in a feeble manner. \"I don't look like a man who is able to\nenjoy a legacy, do I, Alice?\"\n\n\"A legacy? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why, Don Pablo, who always objected to me because I loved you, has\nturned out to be an unexpected friend. He came yesterday to see me and\nexplained that he had left all his money to me. If I could only live,\nAlice, I should be a very wealthy man.\"\n\n\"Why has Se\u00f1or Narvaez done this?\" asked the girl, puzzled.\n\n\"Lord knows,\" replied Julian indifferently. \"He says he has taken a\nfancy to me, and that as you are to marry Montrose he and I are in the\nsame boat, as your rejected lovers. He's not a bad old fellow after\nall.\"\n\nAlice shivered. \"I can never like Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know. He's eccentric rather than bad, and perhaps he really\ndid love you. At all events, he has behaved most kindly towards me\nduring my illness, sending grapes and wine and other delicacies. I used\nto dislike him and wanted to refuse them, but he came and behaved so\nsympathetically that I accepted what he offered. But his legacy,\" Julian\nshook his head, \"I shall never live to enjoy that.\"\n\nBut Alice could not bring herself to believe that Narvaez was the good\nunselfish man Hardwick made him out to be. \"I wonder what is behind all\nthis amiable behaviour, Julian?\" she asked, pondering.\n\n\"Wickedness, dearie!\" cried Dame Trevel unexpectedly. \"Don't you never\nthink as the leopard can change them spots of his. That foreign\ngentleman is the devil, if ever there was one, with horns and hoofs, and\nas black as a coal from the pit. He's got some wicked design on you, Mr.\nHardwick, as he has with that silly girl, Rose Penwin.\"\n\n\"Oh, there is nothing wrong about what he is doing for Rose,\" said\nJulian, with a faint smile. \"He told me that she had great dramatic\ntalent and should go on the stage. He is willing to help her.\"\n\n\"He is willing to make a fool of her,\" said Mrs. Trevel, knitting\nvigorously, \"and that's a fact. Why can't he leave the girl alone to\nmarry Job and do her best to be a good wife; not that she ever will be,\nthe pretty fool. Your Don Babbler, or Pabbler, or whatever you call him,\nwill get his neck twisted by my lad, if he don't mind his own business.\nAll the village knows how he's come between Job and his promised\nmissus.\"\n\n\"He means well: he means well!\" said Hardwick, rising and looking like\nan old and feeble man in spite of his great stature; \"but perhaps he\nwould be wise to leave Rose alone. Alice, will you give me your arm to\nmy lodgings? I see that Dame Trevel can do me no good.\"\n\n\"I would if I could, my dear gentleman, but you're past the power of man\nto mend, as any one can see.\"\n\n\"Don't say that,\" cried Alice hastily, and helping Julian to the door.\n\"It will be best for him to come to Tremore and let me nurse him. As to\nRose Penwin I shall see Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"You'll do no good, dearie, and it ain't for the likes of you to go\nafter so wicked a man.\"\n\n\"I shall appeal to his kind heart, as Mr. Hardwick says he has one. I\nwant Job and Rose to be happy, so I shall ask Don Pablo to leave her\nalone to live out her life in Polwellin.\"\n\n\"I think if you put it to him in the right way he will,\" murmured\nJulian.\n\n\"If he don't, murder will come of it,\" said Mrs. Trevel wisely, and\nthen stood at her door to see the artist being helped down the narrow\nstreet by Alice in a most tender manner. \"Poor gentleman,\" thought the\nold woman, \"there's death in his face, and such a fine figure of a man\ntoo. Him dying, and Rose taking jewels from that foreign beast, and my\nlad with murder in his heart--oh, it's a weary world.\"\n\nAll Alice's persuasions could not gain Julian's consent to go to Tremore\nto be nursed. But the girl could not bear to think of him dying in\nlonely lodgings, so she determined to write a letter to Mrs. Barrast and\nget her to visit Cornwall. Julian laughed at the idea.\n\n\"My dear, Amy won't come. And if she did she would only worry me. Let me\ndie in peace. I can leave this world quite happy, as you are to marry\nsuch a good fellow as Montrose is. Oh, here we are. How lucky my\nsitting-room is on the ground floor, Alice, along with my bedroom. I\ndon't think I am strong enough to climb stairs.\"\n\n\"Julian, I can't bear to leave you like this.\"\n\n\"You can do no good by stopping beside me. I am not suffering any pain,\nremember; only fading out of life as it were. I don't know whether it is\nowing to the fall of the year, or over-exertion on my part, but it is\nsurprising to think how swiftly I have broken up altogether.\"\n\n\"I never dreamed that you were so weak.\"\n\nJulian laughed and nodded. \"I kept my secret well by only seeing you and\nothers when I was feeling stronger than usual. However, I can play my\npart no longer, and anyhow it matters little. Now I shall get to bed.\nLook in occasionally and get Montrose to call when he has time.\"\n\nAlice, greatly distressed, but wholly unable to improve matters in any\nway, took a tearful leave of the sick man and climbed up the path\nleading across the moors to the hill of the Roman encampment. There, by\nthe Druidical altar, she had arranged to meet Douglas, and as the\npathway ran past Don Pablo's cottage she decided to see the man about\nhis interference in Job Trevel's love-affairs. The fisherman was\ncertainly growing dangerous, and much as the girl disliked Narvaez, she\nhad no wish to see him strangled. Besides, if her foster-brother allowed\nhis temper to get the better of him to this extent he would undoubtedly\nbe hanged, and that would break Dame Trevel's heart.\n\nMore than ever Alice wondered why the Spaniard should wish to benefit\nRose by giving her a chance of exhibiting her beauty on the stage, and\nshould desire to make Julian a wealthy man. So far as she could\nunderstand, Narvaez was anything but a philanthropist, and, although he\nhad succeeded in convincing Hardwick of his kindly nature and generous\ndisposition, Miss Enistor had her doubts. It was borne in upon her that\nfor his own mysterious ends Don Pablo was acting a comedy which\nmight--and in the case of Job certainly would--turn into a tragedy.\nRegarding Julian's legacy Alice had no wish to interfere, but so far as\nRose was concerned she thought it would be just as well to warn the\nSpaniard that he was playing with fire. With this determination she came\nin sight of Don Pablo's cottage about half an hour before the time\nappointed for the meeting with Douglas on the mount.\n\nIt was such a glorious day that there were quite a number of people on\nthe moors, mostly women, who were gathering bracken and cutting peat.\nThe blustering winds of previous days had died away, and rain had ceased\nto deluge the country, so that the vast spaces of many-coloured herbage\nspread largely and clearly under the grey-blue sky. There were no mists\nto veil the view or blur the outline of distant hills, and but for the\nkeen nip in the air and the presence of frost in deep hollows where the\npools were iced over, it might have been summer. Alice quite enjoyed the\nwalk in the pale sunshine, and her cheeks grew more rosy and her eyes\nbrighter while she advanced towards the trysting-place. When she came\nunexpectedly upon Don Pablo taking the air, some trifling distance from\nhis cottage, Miss Enistor looked more charming than ever the old man had\nseen her. He was aware of her coming with that preternatural acuteness\nwhich distinguished him, and came forward with a gallant air of greeting\nwhich ill accorded with his withered looks. The man appeared to be older\nthan ever, and--as Alice thought--more wicked.\n\n\"This is indeed a surprise,\" smirked the elderly lover, bowing; \"are you\non your way to see me?\"\n\n\"I am on my way to see Mr. Montrose,\" replied Alice coldly, for the man\nrevolted her now as always; \"but I did intend to call in at your\ncottage.\"\n\n\"How kind of you. Permit me to lead you into my humble abode.\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I can talk to you here. It is about Rose Penwin.\"\n\n\"Indeed! She has been telling you how I wish to forward her fortunes.\"\n\n\"No. But Dame Trevel told me and I came to expostulate.\"\n\nNarvaez grinned wickedly. \"For doing a kind action. Surely not.\"\n\n\"I don't see where the kindness comes in, to launch a girl on the London\nstage and place her in the midst of temptation, when she could be a\nhappy wife in Polwellin.\"\n\n\"You talk like a woman of fifty, my dear Alice. What do you know of\ntemptation, or of life at all? As for Rose being the happy wife of a\nrude fisherman, that is impossible to one of her beauty and talents. As\none old enough to be her great-grandfather surely I am permitted to help\nher to do something in the world.\"\n\n\"Polwellin is all the world Rose needs,\" said Alice resolutely; \"until\nyou interfered she was quite content to marry Job. Why did you meddle?\"\n\n\"Ask yourself that question, my dear,\" retorted Narvaez, coolly\nadjusting his fur coat. \"I was engaged to you----\"\n\n\"Never! Never! Never!\"\n\n\"And you threw me over,\" continued Don Pablo, just as if she had not\nspoken; \"therefore I tried to comfort my heart by doing good. Marry me\nand I shall leave Rose to become that oaf's wife.\"\n\n\"I shall not marry you.\"\n\n\"So you say, but I think differently. The game is not yet played out.\"\n\n\"What game?\" asked Alice, looking at his malicious face with distaste.\n\nNarvaez chuckled wickedly. \"You know, yet you don't know,\" he rejoined\nenigmatically. \"When you are my wife this problem will be explained to\nyou.\"\n\n\"I shall never be your wife.\"\n\n\"Indeed you shall and your lover's fortune shall be restored to your\nfather, who ought to have it. There are wheels within wheels, my dear\ngirl, and much is going on of which you are ignorant.\"\n\n\"I daresay,\" said Alice firmly, \"you are capable of any wickedness. But\nit is impossible for you to harm me or Douglas. You forget that we have\na friend in Dr. Eberstein.\"\n\nThe Spaniard's wrinkled face grew black, and he looked like a wicked\nlittle gnome bent upon mischief. \"I defy Eberstein and his silly power,\"\nhe said shrilly. \"He can do much, but I can do more. No one can hurt\nme.\"\n\n\"Job can and Job will, Se\u00f1or Narvaez. You don't know the tempers of our\nWest Country men. Already he is dangerous, and if you do not leave Rose\nalone he will break your neck.\"\n\n\"My neck is not so easily broken,\" retorted Don Pablo tartly. \"I am not\nso feeble as my appearance warrants. There are other ways than those of\nmere brute force by which I can defend myself. Eberstein--pouf!\" he\nsnapped his fingers in disdain. \"Job Trevel--pouf!\" he repeated the\naction; \"but Montrose,\" he added with a sudden change of tone, and\nraising his voice so that some women working in a near depression of the\nground heard him. \"I am afraid of Montrose. He may kill me.\"\n\n\"You are talking rubbish,\" said Alice, startled by the meaning hate in\nhis tones. \"Douglas scarcely knows you.\"\n\n\"He will know me better soon. I see him coming along yonder. Doubtless\nto meet you and enjoy those kisses which should be mine.\" Don Pablo with\nsurprising activity leaped to the girl's side. \"Do you think that I\nshall surrender you to him?\" His hot breath fanned her cheek. \"Shall I\npermit a fool to triumph over me? No!\" He gripped her wrist before she\ncould swerve aside. \"You are mine. You shall be my wife, my slave, my\nhelper, my instrument. And this is the sign of your bondage.\"\n\n\"Douglas! Douglas!\" Alice shrieked as the hateful Spaniard threw his arm\nround her waist and endeavoured to press his withered lips to her own.\n\n\"Mine! Mine!\" cried Narvaez, and the girl felt faint with disgust as he\nclung to her like a loathsome snake. The next instant he was whirled\naway by a strong arm, and Douglas was sustaining Alice, while the women\nfrom their work of peat-cutting and some men with them ran up, crying\nloudly.\n\n\"You beastly little devil,\" shouted the young man furiously, \"I shall\nbreak every bone in your body.\"\n\n\"You hear! you hear!\" screamed Don Pablo, raising himself on his hands\nand knees with an effort; \"he threatens me. He wants to kill me.\"\n\nNarvaez was no favourite in Polwellin, but he was rich and had made\nfriends with the mammon of unrighteousness in the village. Therefore the\nmen and women murmured something about the shame of a young man\nstriking so old a gentleman. They had not seen the entire episode, and\neven if they had would not have blamed the Spaniard overmuch, since it\nwas popularly reported that the younger man had stolen the promised\nbride of the older one. \"Lat um be,\" said one of the men, stretching out\nhis arm to prevent Montrose again falling on Don Pablo, which he seemed\ninclined to do.\n\n\"Yes, let him be,\" panted Alice, clinging to her lover, \"he is mad. I\nshall tell my father how he has insulted me.\"\n\n\"Insult you!\" shrieked Narvaez, crawling up with the expression of a\nfiend. \"I wonder you think any one can insult you.\"\n\nMontrose broke away from Alice and, gripping Narvaez firmly, shook him\nlike a terrier shaking a rat. \"You wicked wretch, how dare you! I'll\nkill you if you insult Miss Enistor further.\"\n\n\"Lat um be,\" growled the same man who had spoken before; \"um be bad fur\nsure, but um be old, my young sir.\"\n\n\"Pah!\" Douglas flung the little gnome away and took Alice's arm within\nhis own. \"Let him keep out of my way then. If he crosses my path again I\nshall rid the world of his accursed presence.\"\n\n\"You hear! You hear!\" shouted Don Pablo again. \"He threatens to kill me.\nIf anything happens to me, remember all of you what has been said.\"\n\n\"Aye, we'll remember. But why didn't you lat her as is to be his wife\nalone?\"\n\n\"She was to be my wife and he robbed me of her,\" snarled Narvaez,\narranging his disordered attire.\n\n\"Come away! come away,\" murmured Alice, with white lips and dragging\nDouglas aside, for the young man's fury was overpowering him again.\n\n\"Yes, I'll go. I am not master of myself while that little reptile is\nabout--oh, you toad--you----\" Words failed Montrose, and he walked\nhurriedly away with Alice, after shaking his fist at Narvaez.\n\n\"You threatened to kill me: I'll remember that,\" shouted the Spaniard\nafter him. \"You threatened in the presence of witnesses.\"\n\nMontrose, walking swiftly home with Alice, paid no attention to the cry,\nbut turned to the girl with a white face of suppressed anger and dilated\nnostrils. \"Why didn't you let me twist his neck?\" he growled.\n\n\"He's an old man,\" apologised Alice, shivering.\n\n\"An old beast. Is age to protect him from being punished? I shall tell\nyour father, and Narvaez will never enter again into Tremore. He won't\ncome near me again in a hurry, I'll warrant, after that shaking.\"\n\n\"He is dangerous! dangerous!\" said the girl, trembling violently. \"There\nis some meaning in what he did. You heard how he called on those men and\nwomen to witness that you had threatened him.\"\n\n\"I'll do more than threaten if he dares to as much as look at you\nagain.\"\n\n\"Douglas, he is dangerous. Keep away from him.\"\n\n\"I don't want to have anything to do with him. He is old as you say, and\nI can't thrash the life out of him as I should like to. Come, Alice, you\nwill be all right soon. You have done with Narvaez; he has cut his own\nthroat.\"\n\n\"He is dangerous! He is dangerous!\" and that was all the girl could\nsay, or think, since a dim feeling that future evil would come out of\npresent evil haunted her in a way she could not explain.\n\nHad the two overheard what Narvaez was saying and seen what he was\ndoing, Douglas also might have deemed the man dangerous. He gave money\nto the men and women who had witnessed the affair, and told them to\nremember the threats of Montrose. \"I am an old man. I love Miss Enistor\nas a daughter,\" whimpered Don Pablo, \"yet my life is in danger. I shall\nget the police to protect me. As it is, this young ruffian has almost\nkilled me,\" and with a feeble gait he tottered into his cottage. There\nhe smiled grimly when within four walls and rubbed his hands. \"That is\nthe first act of the drama: now for the second.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nTHE NIGHT BEFORE\n\n\nEnistor was furious when he was told how Narvaez had insulted his\ndaughter, for although he had little love for the girl, yet his family\npride rose up in arms against such behaviour. Don Pablo was useful to\nhim, as he knew a great deal about super-physical laws, which the Squire\ndesired to know also, and in which he was being instructed. All the same\nthe Spaniard had proved to be a hard master, and moreover had talked\nmuch about the recovery of the fortune, but had done little towards\nenabling it to be regained. Then again, Narvaez had been struck down in\nthe moment of triumph by a stronger force than any he possessed, and\nthat made him out to be less powerful than he claimed he was. In one\nword, Enistor was beginning to consider Don Pablo to be something of a\nhumbug.\n\nCertainly there were the pains to which he could subject his pupil when\nhe so chose. But that was, as Enistor knew, mere hypnotic suggestion and\ncould be nullified by an opposing will. Narvaez hitherto had possessed\nthe more dominating influence, but since his capabilities appeared to be\nshattered by the intervention of the higher powers, it might be that he\ncould not inflict further hurt. The Squire wondered if he could make his\ndark master suffer by taking him unawares while his forces were weak,\nand determined to do so if he could, if only to be avenged for the\nseries of petty insults to which he had long been subjected. Why Narvaez\nshould behave in such a crude animal way to Alice, the girl's father\ncould not think. But as he had over-stepped the mark, it gave Enistor an\nopportunity of becoming openly hostile. Enistor was selfish and\nunscrupulous, but there was that in him which resented the treatment to\nwhich Alice had been subjected. Perhaps the germs of good to which\nEberstein had referred were sprouting with unexpected swiftness. But be\nit as it may, Enistor sought the moorland cottage breathing out fire and\nfury against his former friend.\n\nNarvaez refused to see him, and when Enistor, sternly angry, sent word\nby the old housekeeper that he would break his way in and take the\nconsequence, he still refused. However, he improved upon his former\nmessage by sending an intimation that he would receive the Squire on the\nfollowing afternoon. With this Enistor was fain to be content, as by\nbreaking in he would only cause a scandal, which for Alice's sake was\nnot to be thought of. The master of Tremore was a very proud man, and\ncould not bear to think that his family name should be made the subject\nof police-court gossip. But when he returned home, he believed more than\never that Narvaez was a fraud, as he had not even attempted to inflict\nthe usual pains by suggestion. The man was getting so old that he was\nlosing his nerve, and shortly would not be worth considering whether as\nfriend or foe. Having therefore lost the magician's dark assistance,\nEnistor decided to try to recover the fortune in his own way.\n\nAlice, shaken by Don Pablo's conduct, had retired early to bed and\nMontrose was seated in the library with his host over after-dinner\ncoffee and tobacco. He was still seething with anger, but since the\nSquire had taken matters into his own hands, he could do nothing but\nlook on. After a full discussion of the affair, Enistor insisted that it\nshould be shelved.\n\n\"We have talked enough about it,\" he said in a peremptory tone. \"I\npromise you that Narvaez shall not enter these doors again. To-morrow I\nshall explain my opinion to him, and then he can go hang for me. With\nregard to his desire to marry Alice----\"\n\n\"Surely after what has taken place, sir, you would never think of any\npossible marriage,\" cried Montrose, glowing with wrath, \"let alone the\nfact that you have tacitly agreed to Alice becoming my wife.\"\n\n\"I certainly refuse to think further of Narvaez as my son-in-law,\" said\nthe Squire stiffly, \"in spite of his wealth. But as regards yourself the\npossibility of your making my daughter your wife rests with you\nentirely.\"\n\nThe young man laughed and rested his reddish-hued head against the back\nof the chair. \"If it rests with me the matter is soon settled,\" he said,\nwith a relieved expression in his eyes. He thought that the Squire was\ntalking in a remarkably sensible way.\n\n\"That depends upon how you reply to the question I am about to ask,\"\nsaid Enistor dryly. \"You inherit the fortune of my sister?\"\n\n\"Yes!\" Douglas sat up, aware that the conversation was becoming serious.\n\"We have not spoken about this matter before, sir, but I would have you\nknow, now that the ice is broken between us, that never in any way did I\nseek that fortune. It was a surprise to me when I heard the will read by\nMr. Cane.\"\n\n\"So I understand from Mr. Cane himself. I absolve you from\nfortune-hunting, since you knew nothing of Lady Staunton's intentions.\nBut do you think it was quite fair of her to leave the money away from\nher own family?\"\n\n\"That is rather a difficult question to put to the man who has\nbenefited, Mr. Enistor. And let me remind you that by marrying Alice I\nbring back the fortune to your family.\"\n\n\"I think not. Your wife benefits, but I don't.\"\n\n\"Both Alice and I are prepared to be your bankers,\" said Montrose\nuneasily.\n\n\"To give me what is rightfully my own,\" retorted the Squire, with a\ncurling lip. \"Thank you for nothing. No, that won't do. Until my sister\nmet you it was always her intention to leave the money to me, to restore\nthe position of our family in the county. I want the fortune you hold to\nmyself, as I am a poor man. It is not for a base ambition that I seek\nthe income, but for the sake of going into Parliament and helping to\ngovern. I want power, I want a great sphere to work in. Without money I\nam condemned to stay in this cramped neighbourhood eating out my heart.\"\n\n\"I quite understand that with such ambitions you feel the need of money,\nMr. Enistor, and with Alice's permission I am willing to give you any\nreasonable sum you desire to forward your aims.\"\n\nEnistor did not appear to be overcome by this generous offer, or even\nthankful for the same. \"I take nothing as a gift and I claim my rights.\"\n\n\"The whole fortune of your sister?\"\n\n\"Certainly! She ought to have willed it to me.\"\n\n\"I understood from Alice that you were quite agreeable that Lady\nStaunton should do what she wished with her own,\" said Montrose slowly.\n\n\"I don't tell Alice everything, Montrose. I accepted my small legacy and\nsaid nothing about the matter, as there was nothing to be done until you\ncame. Now,\" Enistor fixed his dominating gaze on Douglas, \"I ask you to\nlet me have the money by deed of gift. In return you shall marry Alice.\"\n\n\"And what are we to live on?\"\n\n\"I shall allow you five hundred a year.\"\n\n\"In return for five thousand.\" Montrose laughed at the boldness of the\ndemand. \"No, sir. I cannot do what you ask.\"\n\n\"Then you are a fortune-hunter after all,\" said the Squire bitterly.\n\n\"I am not!\" Douglas sprang to his feet with the hot blood making red his\ncheeks. \"So far as I am personally concerned I don't care for money,\nalthough I don't deny that I am glad my days of poverty are over. But\nthis money has been given to me in trust to help others. I cannot be\nfalse to my trust.\"\n\nEnistor waved his hand disdainfully. \"That is only a young man's talk.\nWhy should you help others? Let them look after themselves.\"\n\n\"I think differently. Dr. Eberstein has taught me differently.\"\n\n\"Dr. Eberstein,\" said the other with a sneer, \"is a visionary. If you\nare to be my son-in-law you must allow me to advise you.\"\n\n\"I have always acted on my own responsibility during life,\" said\nMontrose sharply, \"and I shall continue to do so. Dr. Eberstein knows so\nmuch about things not of this world that I am always glad to hear what\nhe has to say.\"\n\n\"And do what he tells you.\"\n\n\"Certainly, in things which have to do with my spiritual welfare. But as\nregards earthly affairs I take my own way. Still, I admit,\" ended the\nyoung man frankly, \"that in this instance Eberstein advises me to keep\nthe money.\"\n\n\"Naturally! He can do what he likes with you and the money will be\nuseful to him and his ambitions.\"\n\nThe taunt was so puerile that it failed to disturb Montrose. \"Eberstein\nhas no ambition save to do good, and is rich enough to execute his plans\nwithout aid from me. He cannot do what he likes with me, as you think,\nalthough I am always willing to take his advice, which is of the best. I\nam not a child, Mr. Enistor, but one who has gained experience through\nbitter trials. I may add that Eberstein's teaching inculcates\nself-reliance and individual judgment, so that each man may learn to\nstand alone.\"\n\n\"He is a dreamer as you are. However I care nothing for him or his\nteaching in any way. You have heard my conditions. Surrender the fortune\nto me and you marry my daughter: otherwise you must leave my house and\nnever see Alice again. I give you three days in which to make up your\nmind.\"\n\n\"I make it up now,\" said Montrose, resolute but calm. \"The money I have,\nand the money I keep. With or without your consent Alice shall be my\nwife.\"\n\n\"As you please,\" replied the Squire, frigidly polite. \"You have heard my\ndetermination, from which I shall not swerve. In three days we can talk\nabout this subject again; meanwhile let things go on as usual.\" And the\nconversation terminated in what might be called an armed neutrality.\n\nTo remain in the house on such a footing was by no means palatable to a\nyoung hot-headed man as Douglas truly was. His first impulse was to\nleave Tremore and do battle with Enistor from a distance: his second to\nstay where he was and give Alice the safeguard of his presence. Should\nhe depart it might be that Enistor could coerce the girl into obedience,\nthereby causing her unnecessary suffering. Montrose loved Alice too well\nto submit her to such sorrow, so he swallowed his pride and said nothing\nabout the conversation. As he was sufficiently self-controlled to appear\nat his ease Alice had not the faintest idea of what had taken place.\nPerhaps if she had observed her father's sudden change towards her lover\nfrom geniality to chilly politeness she might have been enlightened. But\nthe insolent conduct of Narvaez had made her nervously ill, and she was\ntoo languid to take much interest in any one or anything. So matters\nremained much as usual, although the visitor felt that the atmosphere of\nthe big house was insistently menacing and sinister. Eberstein could\nhave told him that the conditions heralded the breaking of a storm, but\nEberstein, watchful and silent, stayed at Perchton, saying nothing, but\nthinking much.\n\nMeanwhile Polwellin seethed with gossip. The first item had to do with\nthe sudden illness of Hardwick, who was said to be dying. Every one\nregretted the news, as the artist was a favourite in the neighbourhood\nin which he had lived so long. The doctor from Perchton came to see the\nsick man, and Mr. Sparrow, always a help in time of trouble, visited the\nbedside. Hardwick was grateful to see them both, but was too weak to\ntake much interest in either his body or his soul. He was simply fading\nout of life, and things of this world were losing their interest for the\ndeparting spirit.\n\nThe second item concerned the quarrel of Narvaez and Montrose, which had\nbeen reported by those who witnessed it, with many additions. It was\nfreely stated that Montrose had threatened to murder the Spaniard for\nthe insult offered to Miss Enistor, and the gossips said that if he did\nhe would only be forestalling Job Trevel, who was equally bent upon\n\"doing for the foreign gentleman.\" It puzzled the simple villagers to\nunderstand why Don Pablo should return to Miss Enistor, when he had left\nher to philander with Rose Penwin, and arrived at the conclusion that he\nwas a bad lot. Nevertheless, because the stranger was rich and scattered\nhis money freely, there were a few who spoke in his favour. But the\nmajority were hostile, since the mere presence of Narvaez seemed to\nirritate those he was with into quarrelling, even though there was no\ncause to do so. Undoubtedly the man had an evil influence, and the\ninhabitants of Polwellin would not have been displeased to see this male\nAt\u00ea leave the place. Then Mr. Montrose could marry the Squire's daughter\nand Job could make Rose his wife, which would mean wedding festivities\nand plenty to eat and drink. In this way the gossips talked and the\nrumours grew, so that shortly the whole village was infected with uneasy\nfear as to what would happen. It seemed as though the influence of the\ndark house on the hill had descended upon Polwellin. Perhaps it had, and\nperhaps it had been guided in its descent by that man who dealt with\nsupernatural things in the cottage which squatted like a toad amongst\nthe heather.\n\nTo that same cottage Enistor repaired the next afternoon to keep his\nappointment. He found Narvaez, looking older and more withered than\never, crouching over the fire, moody, broken-up and peevish; altogether\nunlike his ordinary serene self. At the first glance the Squire decided\nthat his master was quite helpless and sat down with a glow of pleasure\nto take the upper hand. It pleased him immensely to show Narvaez that he\nalso had a will, that he also could bully, and that the former\nrelationship was now reversed. All the latent cruelty in Enistor rose to\nthe surface at the sight of his helpless tyrant. The late under-dog now\nintended to bite and worry as the top-dog had done.\n\n\"Well, sir,\" said Enistor shortly, \"what have you to say for yourself?\"\n\nNarvaez whimpered and crouched still lower over the fire. \"I am an old\nman,\" he moaned, \"a very old man.\"\n\n\"An old scoundrel, you mean. How dare you insult my daughter yesterday?\"\n\n\"Are you against me also? Do you want to see Montrose murder me?\"\n\n\"It would serve you right if you did get murdered,\" snapped the Squire\nwith contempt; \"you are of no use in the world that I can see.\"\n\n\"You did not think so once,\" muttered Don Pablo humbly.\n\n\"No! That is true. Because I believed you to be a clever man. Now I know\nthat you are a fraud laying claim to a power you never possessed.\"\n\n\"You have felt my power,\" snarled Narvaez savagely.\n\n\"I admit that I have. And why? Because you had a trained will which you\ncould concentrate to compel me to feel what you wished. That is a thing\nof the past. The Great Power that laid you low the other night has\nbroken your will, and you are no longer able to control me.\"\n\n\"That is true! that is true! I have had a shock, a great shock.\"\n\n\"So if I put forth my will,\" continued the Squire mercilessly, \"I could\nmake you endure the pains you inflicted on me when I disobeyed.\"\n\n\"And would you?\"\n\n\"I have a mind to do so at this moment. You set the example. As you did\nto me so I wish to do to you.\"\n\n\"I daresay.\" Narvaez straightened himself a trifle, and some of his old\nfire sparkled in his dull eyes. \"But I am not yet so feeble that I\ncannot defend myself if necessary. I cannot control you, certainly, as\nThe Adversary has scattered and weakened my will, but I can prevent you\nfrom hurting me.\"\n\n\"Well, I shall let you off this time,\" said Enistor, sneering, yet\nwondering why he should show mercy after Don Pablo's teaching.\n\n\"Let me off! Let me off!\" screamed the Spaniard fiercely. \"Try, if you\ndare, to measure your powers against mine, shattered as I am. I can\ngather myself together again, remember; then you take care, you take\ncare.\"\n\nEnistor felt a qualm, wondering if Narvaez was so weak as he pretended\nto be. There was a look in the rekindled light of those steady eyes\nwhich made him doubtful of his ground. Bold as he was, he felt that it\nwould be rash to advance, and therefore he retreated skilfully by\nchanging the conversation immediately. \"You are wrong to think that\nEberstein struck you down the other night. It was a Higher Power.\"\n\n\"Who told you that?\"\n\n\"Eberstein himself. It shows me how broken you are, Narvaez, when you\ndon't know that the man has been trying to convert me to his way of\nthinking.\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes! I am brought very low: very low indeed,\" muttered Don Pablo\nwith a groan; \"but if Eberstein tried to convert you he hasn't succeeded\nvery well, since it is only the remains of my power that prevent you\nfrom giving me pain.\"\n\n\"I don't agree with what Eberstein says,\" retorted the Squire tartly.\n\"He talked the usual weak Christianity of benefiting one's neighbours\ninstead of one's self.\"\n\n\"Why not take his advice?\" asked Narvaez, looking up with his former\nkeen glance. \"Benefiting one's self has brought me to this. If you\nfollow my teaching you also may come to these depths.\"\n\n\"That is a strange thing for you to advise, Narvaez.\"\n\n\"Very strange! But I should not advise if I dreamed for one moment that\nyou were disposed to take the Right-hand Path. The Power of Self is too\nstrong for you, Enistor. Age after age it has dominated you.\"\n\n\"So Eberstein told me! But this time I have broken your bonds.\"\n\n\"Have you indeed?\" said Narvaez in a strange tone, staring into the\nfire. \"Ah! that will please Eberstein. Of course I lose a pupil and he\ngains one.\"\n\n\"No! I stand alone!\" said Enistor proudly.\n\nThe answer seemed to satisfy Don Pablo and he chuckled. \"I hope you will\nbe able to stand alone against Montrose, now that I cannot aid you. He\nhas the fortune, remember, and he will keep it.\"\n\n\"I have given him three days to surrender it or lose Alice for ever. And\nthe mention of her name,\" cried the Squire, lashing himself into a fury,\n\"makes me wonder that I don't thrash you for daring to insult her.\"\n\n\"No! No!\" cried Narvaez, and his voice broke. \"I am such an old man.\nBesides I can still help you. Montrose has a secret which you can use\nagainst him.\"\n\n\"What is that secret?\" Enistor's hand, which he had raised to strike,\nfell by his side.\n\n\"Montrose is already married.\"\n\n\"It's a lie!\"\n\n\"Ask your young friend if it is a lie. You talk about my having insulted\nyour daughter, Enistor: what about the insult of a married man coming to\nwoo the girl in so shameless a fashion?\"\n\nThe Squire frowned and was too astounded to speak for a few moments,\nduring which Don Pablo eyed him curiously. When he did speak it was\nagain to deny the truth of the amazing statement. \"Beyond the fact that\nMontrose will not give up the money which should be mine I have nothing\nagainst him. He is a well-bred gentleman and----\"\n\n\"Very well bred to pose as a bachelor,\" sneered Narvaez contemptuously.\n\n\"I don't believe it. The man is honest. You will have to prove what you\nsay, Narvaez. Do you hear?\"\n\n\"Since you are shouting so loudly I can safely say that I do. Prove what\nI say: oh, certainly. Send Montrose here to-night and I can give him\nabsolute proof that my statement is correct.\"\n\n\"I shall come with him.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Narvaez sharply. \"If you come I shall refuse to give the\nproof in any way. Montrose will be convinced that I can prevent him from\nmarrying your daughter, and to put things straight he may be willing to\ngive up the money.\"\n\n\"Even then,\" cried Enistor furiously, \"I can't allow him to marry Alice.\nHe would be a bigamist.\"\n\n\"That is his affair and hers,\" said Don Pablo cynically. \"What you want\nis the money.\"\n\n\"I do, but not at the price of seeing my daughter's life ruined.\"\n\n\"Pooh! What does her ruin or his matter to you? Are you bent upon\nfollowing the feeble Christianity of Eberstein?\"\n\n\"Feeble! He was too strong for you the other night.\"\n\n\"He was not!\" Narvaez raised himself to his full height and seemed to\nrecover a trifle of his former dominance. \"I could have dealt with The\nAdversary alone, but the power he summoned to his aid overwhelmed me.\nHowever, this is not to the point.\" The man collapsed again into a weak\ncondition. \"Do what I tell you about sending Montrose here at eight\no'clock this evening. I can prove that he is a married man. If you like\nI can get him, through threats to expose him to Alice, to give you the\nmoney.\"\n\n\"I shall deal with that,\" said Enistor angrily. \"All you have to do is\nto prove your statement. He can come alone and when he returns he shall\nexplain what you say. But I don't believe that he is married.\"\n\n\"I think Montrose will believe,\" chuckled Narvaez, and then waved his\nthin hand. \"Go now, Enistor. I am tired.\"\n\n\"Don't order me about in that arrogant way,\" shouted the Squire, \"you\nhave not the power to do so. You will be tired enough when Montrose has\ndone with you, I can tell you.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I will. He threatened to murder me, and to keep his secret he\nmay do so. I don't care: this body is very old and weak. I shall be glad\nto get a new one.\"\n\n\"To work more evil. Remember how you were warned on that night when----\"\n\n\"Go away! Go away!\" cried Don Pablo in a shrill voice of anger, and his\neyes flamed viciously. \"I know more about the warning than you do and I\ndespise it. Do you hear? I despise it!\" And as on the night when Alice's\nsoul had been loosened from its bonds of flesh he shook his fists in the\nair.\n\nEnistor did not argue any longer, but went away with a contemptuous\nshrug of his shoulders. He was more than ever convinced that Narvaez had\nlittle power left: all the same the wounded snake might strike in\nhopeless rage, so it was not wise to tempt the man too far. Besides, on\nhis way back to Tremore, the Squire was filled with rage against Douglas\nfor tricking him. To think that the young scoundrel was married and yet\ncame down to make love to Alice. Eberstein must have known that Montrose\nwas not free, and yet he also had kept silent. So much for the\nChristianity he professed. It was with a black face and an angry heart\nthat Enistor returned home. He found that Alice and her lover had gone\ndown to see Hardwick in Polwellin, therefore he nursed his wrath until\nthey returned, and it lost nothing by the delay. Even then the Squire\ndid not immediately attack the young man, since the girl was present.\nAfter dinner, as he decided, he would be able to bring Montrose to book\nfor his monstrous behaviour.\n\nAlice could scarcely eat and retired early from the table. Julian was at\ndeath's door, as she told her father, and she doubted if Mrs.\nBarrast--to whom she had written--would arrive in time to take a last\nfarewell. With the Squire's permission she returned to the dying man\naccompanied by the housekeeper. Enistor did not object as he rather\nliked Hardwick, and was sorry to hear that he was passing out of life at\nso early an age. But he put the matter out of his mind when alone with\nMontrose.\n\n\"I saw Narvaez to-day,\" he said abruptly. \"He tells me that you are\nalready married, and swears that he can give proof.\"\n\nMontrose sprang up almost too startled to speak. \"Is he mad to say so?\"\n\n\"Mad or not, he declares that such is the case. What have you to say?\"\n\n\"Say? Why, such an accusation is not worth answering. I have never\nlooked at a woman until I met Alice. As to being married,\" the young man\npaused with an angry, bewildered look, \"the thing is preposterous,\" he\ncried indignantly.\n\n\"Preposterous or not, Narvaez declares that if you go up to him to-night\nat eight o'clock, he will give you proof.\"\n\n\"Oh, will he!\" Montrose glanced at his watch. \"It is twenty-five to\neight now. I will go at once, and shall arrive at Don Pablo's cottage\nshortly after the hour he mentions. Then----\"\n\n\"Well, what then?\" demanded the Squire grimly.\n\n\"I'll force the lie down his throat,\" raged Montrose, who was quite\nbeside himself with anger, and, unable to speak further, he left the\nroom hurriedly.\n\n\"Is he or Narvaez the liar?\" Enistor asked himself, but could find no\nreply.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE MORNING AFTER\n\n\nAfter breakfast disastrous news came from two quarters, and concerned\nboth Don Pablo and Julian Hardwick. While the Squire, his daughter and\nhis guest were ending their meal, the housekeeper rushed into the room\nwith an agitated face to announce evil. Like all her class she was\ndelighted to be the bearer of bad tidings, and counted upon making a\nsensation, which she assuredly did. Enistor had scarcely raised his\neyebrows at her unceremonious entry when she burst into voluble speech.\n\n\"Oh! sir: oh! miss, here's dreadful goings on. That poor young gentleman\nwho painted pictures is dead and gone.\"\n\n\"I thought he would die,\" said Alice, with a sob. \"He had no strength\nwhen I left him last night. Oh! poor Julian: poor Julian.\"\n\n\"But that ain't the worst, miss. Se\u00f1or Narvaez is murdered!\"\n\nEnistor started to his feet and overturned his chair. He could not\nbelieve his ears. \"Murdered! Don Pablo! Be careful what you say.\"\n\n\"I am careful, sir,\" cried the housekeeper resentfully. \"He's as dead as\na doornail, lying outside his cottage with a broken neck. Mrs. Boyce as\nlooked after him came on the corpse this morning, and is now in the\nkitchen crying dreadful and exhausted, as she well may be, having\nrushed across the moor at her age to tell of the wicked crime.\"\n\n\"But is it a crime?\" asked Alice, deadly pale and anxious.\n\n\"For sure, miss. Men don't break their own necks.\"\n\n\"Who killed him?\" demanded Montrose sharply.\n\n\"No one knows, miss--I mean, sir. Mrs. Boyce said as Se\u00f1or Narvaez had\nsome one to see him last night, but who he was she don't rightly know.\"\n\nEnistor's eyes rested on Montrose, who started and flushed. \"When did\nMrs. Boyce discover the body?\"\n\n\"When she got up early to make the old gentleman's breakfast,\" said the\nvoluble housekeeper. \"He wasn't in his room, as usual, but she thought\nhe might have gone out for a stroll, as he sometimes did. Then later, as\nhe did not return, Mrs. Boyce went out to look and found him dead just\noutside the gate, looking as quiet as pussy. And please, sir, she wants\nto know what she's to do, having come as quick as ever she could to\ntell, so that it mayn't be thought to be her fault, which it ain't, she\nbeing one as wouldn't kill a fly.\"\n\n\"Tell Mrs. Boyce that I shall go over to the cottage and see what is to\nbe done,\" said Enistor quickly, \"and send one of the men down to the\nvillage for the policeman. We must communicate with the Perchton\nInspector.\"\n\n\"And what about Mr. Hardwick as is dead and----\"\n\n\"You needn't trouble about that. Do what I say.\"\n\nThe housekeeper vanished reluctantly, as she dearly wished to remain and\ndiscuss the deaths. The moment the door was closed Enistor turned to\nMontrose with a frown. \"What do you know of this?\" he asked imperiously.\n\nAlice started and spoke before her lover could open his mouth. \"Douglas\ncannot possibly know anything,\" she cried indignantly. \"What do you\nmean, father?\"\n\n\"I mean that Montrose was the last person who saw Don Pablo alive.\"\n\n\"You can't be sure of that,\" said the young man, very pale but very\nquiet. \"I certainly called on Don Pablo shortly after eight o'clock, to\nquestion him concerning the lie he told about me. But I left him some\ntime before nine perfectly well. His death is as great a surprise to me\nas to you, Mr. Enistor.\"\n\n\"I hope the police will take that view,\" sneered the Squire. \"You\nreturned here after nine and went straight to bed, when you might have\nguessed that I was in the library waiting for your report.\"\n\n\"I was too upset to give any report,\" said Montrose shortly.\n\n\"Oh, I quite believe that.\"\n\n\"Douglas! father,\" cried Alice imploringly, as she could not yet\nunderstand the precise situation. \"What does it all mean?\"\n\n\"It means so far as I can judge that Montrose forced the lie down\nNarvaez' throat, as he said he would, and very thoroughly.\"\n\n\"Do you accuse me of killing the man?\" said Montrose hoarsely.\n\n\"Yes!\" said the Squire, looking at him with grim directness.\n\n\"Then I deny absolutely what you say,\" declared the other vehemently;\n\"as I said before, I left Narvaez in his room shortly before nine\no'clock, after he had confessed to me that what he mentioned to you was\nuntrue.\"\n\n\"What did he mention to father?\" questioned the girl, terrified at the\nfurious looks of the two men. \"I was with Julian until eleven, and when\nI returned home you had gone to bed, Douglas. I came to tell you about\nJulian, father, but you did not say that anything had happened.\"\n\n\"Nothing had happened then so far as I know,\" said Enistor quickly. \"My\ndear, I saw Don Pablo yesterday and he told me that Montrose was already\nmarried.\"\n\n\"Married! Married!\" Alice started back the picture of dismay.\n\n\"It is a lie!\" cried Douglas fiercely, and passed round the table to\ntake her in his arms. \"I swear it is a lie, dear. When your father told\nme after dinner I went at once to Narvaez. He confessed calmly that he\nhad spoken falsely so as to prejudice my chances of making you my wife.\nHad he been a younger man I should have thrashed the life out of him. As\nit was I told him my opinion and then left him quite unharmed. I swear\nthat I never laid a finger on him, but returned here shortly after nine\no'clock to go to bed. I was too indignant at what had been said to seek\nout your father and explain.\"\n\nEnistor laughed coldly. \"That is a very neat story. Do you believe it,\nAlice?\"\n\nThe girl clung to her lover. \"Believe it: of course I believe it.\nDouglas would not tell a lie.\"\n\n\"Not even to save his own neck?\"\n\n\"My neck isn't in danger,\" said Montrose haughtily.\n\n\"I don't know so much about that. The other day you threatened to kill\nNarvaez for the insult he offered to Alice, and many people heard that\nthreat, as you know. To demand explanation of a lie--I daresay it was a\nlie--you left this house breathing fire and fury against Narvaez. When\nyou returned it was to retire to bed without a word of explanation.\nNow we hear that the man, whom you regarded as your enemy, is\ndead--murdered. The evidence in favour of your having killed Narvaez is\nvery strong.\"\n\n\"Purely circumstantial evidence,\" said Montrose, but turned paler than\never when he realised his position.\n\n\"Innocent men have been hanged on circumstantial evidence before now,\"\nsaid Enistor coolly. \"Although on the face of it I do not admit your\ninnocence.\"\n\n\"Father, how can you think Douglas would murder any one!\"\n\n\"Ah, I have not the belief in him that you have, Alice.\"\n\n\"Indeed that is true,\" said Montrose bitterly. \"You have always been\nhostile to me, although for a time you masked your feelings. Now it\nseems that without a shadow of proof you believe me to be a murderer.\"\n\n\"A shadow of proof!\" echoed the Squire tauntingly. \"Upon my word, I\nthink there is much more than a shadow of proof. You threatened Narvaez\nand----\"\n\n\"And so did Job Trevel,\" interrupted Alice defiantly. \"It is probable\nthat Job murdered Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"Probable, but scarcely possible,\" said her father coldly. \"However, I\nshall send for the Perchton police and strict justice shall be done.\nUntil the truth comes to light, Montrose must lie under suspicion. Leave\nhim, Alice.\"\n\n\"Never! Never! Never!\" cried the girl, with her arms round Montrose's\nneck. \"He is innocent: wholly innocent.\"\n\nEnistor stepped forward and wrenched his daughter from the young man.\n\"Obey me, Alice, I command you,\" he cried imperiously. \"So far you have\nhad your own way, but now the time has come for me to have mine. Go to\nyour room and stay there until I look into the matter. As to you,\" he\nfaced Montrose, who was quiet and pale and as still as a statue, \"I\nshould order you out of my house but that justice must be done.\"\n\n\"You mean to have me arrested on a charge of murder?\"\n\n\"I mean to explain the whole circumstance to the Perchton Inspector and\nlet him deal with the matter,\" retorted Enistor haughtily. \"Meantime, if\nyou try to escape you will be taken in charge at my instance by the\nPolwellin policeman. You understand.\"\n\n\"I understand that you are bent upon my destruction, Mr. Enistor. But\nyou need have no fear. Being perfectly innocent, I shall not attempt to\nescape.\"\n\n\"Oh, Douglas! Douglas!\"\n\n\"You _will_ disobey me.\" Enistor dragged back his daughter and forced\nher to the door. \"Go to your room, I tell you.\"\n\nMontrose clenched his hands on seeing the girl he loved so roughly\nhandled, but he could do nothing against the authority of her father.\nWith one last sorrowful look, Alice disappeared and Enistor followed,\nleaving the unfortunate young man alone with his misery. The wicked\natmosphere of the house seemed to bear down upon him with such force\nthat he could almost feel the physical pressure. But this probably was\nimagination, as he was not sufficiently clairvoyant either to see or\nhear or feel the unseen. But in this agonising moment when it seemed\nthat he was being swept away by a flood of evil, his thoughts turned\nswiftly to Eberstein. In that man he hoped to find aid, but even as he\ndwelt on the doctor's assistance a line from one of the Psalms flashed\ninsistently into his mind. \"Vain is the help of man\" was the phrase, and\nhe became vividly aware by some sixth sense that salvation could only\ncome from the Great Power of Love as manifested in the Lord of\nCompassion. So intolerable a sense of his peril seized him that, almost\nunconsciously, the cry for help issued from his lips.\n\n\"Oh, Christ!\" he breathed audibly. \"Lord help me, lest I perish.\"\n\nIt might have been that the intense agony of the moment opened his\ninterior senses, for he became conscious that some glorious light, not\nof the world, was enfolding him in its radiance. It welled--so he\nbelieved--from the golden heart on his breast, as if the stored-up\nsacramental power was issuing forth to do battle with the dark\ninfluence. But be this as it may, Montrose became aware that the gloom\nwas receding, that the evil was being baffled, and that he was growing\nstronger by virtue of some higher force to resist the terrors pressing\nin upon him. The radiance which clothed him as with a garment gradually\ndied away, and he found himself standing in the common light of day; but\nthe peaceful, holy, uplifting feeling remained. He knew his innocence,\nand he knew also with profound thankfulness that God would make that\ninnocence apparent to others. The trouble prophesied by Eberstein had\nindeed arrived, and very terrible it was; but behind the clouds which\nenvironed him shone the sun of righteousness, and its glory would sooner\nor later dispel the gloom. Having arrived at this knowledge in some way\nwhich he was wholly unable to explain, Montrose left Tremore and\ndescended to Polwellin.\n\nHere he walked straight to the post-office and sent a wire to Eberstein\nasking him to come over at once. He would have gone to Perchton instead,\nbut that he did not wish Enistor to put his threat into execution and\nhave him arrested by the village policeman. As it was, he became an\nobject of suspicion to the fishermen and their wives. The news of\nNarvaez' violent death had travelled swiftly from ear to ear, and\nMontrose was apparently looked upon as the criminal. The evidence of\nthose who had heard his threats against the man was too clear to admit\nof doubt, and already accusations had been spread broadcast, judging\nfrom the horrified looks which met Montrose's gaze on all sides. He had\nbeen tried and condemned without loss of time, and in spite of the\nsustaining power he felt his heart sink with purely human fear. It was\nwith a feeling of relief that he met the vicar face to face. From a more\neducated man he at least hoped to have justice.\n\n\"Mr. Montrose,\" said the vicar, who looked more solemn than ever and was\ncertainly more stiff, \"are you wise to walk through the village just\nnow?\"\n\n\"Why should I not?\" asked the young man defiantly.\n\n\"Well, there are rumours: rumours,\" said Mr. Sparrow, removing his\nclerical hat to brush his bald head with a nervous hand. \"Se\u00f1or Narvaez\nis dead, as you know, and it is said that you are responsible.\"\n\n\"Why should I be?\"\n\n\"He insulted Miss Enistor the other day in your presence and you\nthreatened to kill him, I understand. Of course I am not a believer in\nyour guilt,\" added the parson quickly, \"as from what I have seen of you\nI do not think for a moment that you would shed the blood of a human\nbeing.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Montrose simply, and extended his hand.\n\nSparrow took it with a flush on his parchment face. \"It's all rubbish as\nI have said,\" he burst out with very human wrath. \"And as you are\nstaying at Tremore, undoubtedly you will be able to show that you did\nnot see Se\u00f1or Narvaez last night.\"\n\nIt was on the tip of Montrose's tongue to confess his visit, but\nsomething--perhaps common sense--prevented him from incriminating\nhimself. Instead, a question sprang to his lips to which he was\nextremely anxious to get an answer. \"What about Job Trevel?\"\n\n\"There you are,\" said the vicar quickly. \"A rough hot-tempered man like\nJob is much more likely to have done the deed, though God forbid I\nshould accuse him or any one unjustly. Yet Job certainly hated Se\u00f1or\nNarvaez on account of Rose Penwin, and uttered many threats against him.\nBut when the news came of this murder, Mr. Montrose, I at once went to\nsee Dame Trevel, remembering Job's enmity. She tells me that Job went\nout fishing last night early and has not returned. Therefore he cannot\nbe guilty.\"\n\n\"Then who can have murdered Narvaez?\"\n\n\"It is hard to say. Of course he lived in a lonely situation and had\nmuch wealth, if rumour is to be believed. We shall see when the police\ncome from Perchton. They should be here soon. I believe that Mr. Enistor\nand our village constable have gone to the cottage to see the body.\nMeanwhile, Mr. Montrose, I advise you to return to Tremore and wait\nuntil we learn more. Se\u00f1or Narvaez was no favourite, yet it is dangerous\nfor you to walk about amongst my rough parishioners, as they seem to\nthink that you are guilty.\"\n\nMontrose was no coward, yet he did not see the necessity of courting\ndanger when no benefit could be derived from such foolhardiness. He\nbowed his head and accepted the warning, thankful to think that Mr.\nSparrow did not believe him to have committed the crime. \"And Hardwick\nis dead,\" he said sadly.\n\n\"Yes! Yes! Yes! It is a world of trouble, Mr. Montrose. I have just seen\nthe body, and the poor fellow looks asleep rather than dead. Strange\nthat he should die on the very morning when this tragic event takes\nplace. Polwellin is such a quiet place: nothing of moment ever happens\nhere. Yet now we have two deaths: one from natural causes and one by\nviolence. It never rains but it pours. I have much to do: much to do.\nNow go back to Tremore, my dear young friend, and rest assured that God\nwill prove your innocence in His own good time. You have my sympathy and\nmy wife's sympathy.\"\n\n\"You are a good man and she is a good woman, Mr. Sparrow,\" said\nMontrose, deeply moved. \"I assure you I shall not forget how you are\nstanding by me.\"\n\n\"Pooh! Pooh! Of course I stand by you, and so will Mr. Enistor. There is\nabsolutely no ground for these rumours against you, save your unhappy\nthreat. You should keep your temper, Mr. Montrose: you should keep your\ntemper.\"\n\n\"Rather hard to do when a lady is insulted,\" said Douglas dryly.\n\n\"Of course: quite so. If it had been Mrs. Sparrow now, I should have\nforgotten my calling. Still we must fight the enemy of evil feelings\neven against those who strive to harm us. Good-day: good-day and hope\nfor the best.\"\n\nMontrose, climbing the hill to Tremore, would have smiled on any other\noccasion at Mr. Sparrow's fight between human failings and the divine\ncommand to turn the other cheek to the smiter. But he did not smile, as\nhe was very grateful to the man for his advocacy, and thought highly of\nhim for standing up so boldly against public opinion. Sparrow was\nlimited in many ways, but he had a considerable fund of common sense,\nwhich he used to the best advantage. He followed his Master as best he\nknew how and was very close to Him in his present attitude, which was\none few men would have assumed in the face of such hostility. Montrose\ndetermined that when his innocence was assured he would repay the vicar\nin one way or another. Meanwhile he had to deal strenuously with his\nvery disagreeable situation.\n\nAfter midday Enistor returned and requested an interview with his guest\nin the library. The young man appeared, looking haggard and anxious,\nwhich was very natural considering the dangerous position in which he\nstood. Also he was angry at not seeing Alice, for by Enistor's orders\nshe was not allowed out of her bedroom, the housekeeper being on guard.\nDouglas insisted that he should be permitted to have a conversation with\nthe girl.\n\n\"You have no right to keep us apart,\" said Montrose indignantly.\n\n\"Until you clear your character I have,\" said Enistor coldly.\n\n\"But you don't think that I am guilty: you can't think so. Why, even Mr.\nSparrow, whom you say is narrow-minded, does not believe that I killed\nNarvaez.\"\n\n\"Mr. Sparrow does not know of your visit to the cottage last night. Nor\ndoes any one but myself and my daughter. The Perchton Inspector came\nwith several policemen and has examined the cottage and the body, and\nMrs. Boyce, who looked after things for Narvaez. She declares that\nsomeone called last night, but could not say who it was.\"\n\n\"Perhaps Job Trevel?\"\n\n\"Job went out fishing last night early and has not returned. Rose was\nwith her mother all day and all night. Neither of these two can be\nguilty. And from your open threats it is said that you struck the blow,\nor rather broke the man's neck.\"\n\n\"I am not strong enough to do that,\" said Montrose, looking at his\nhands.\n\n\"Rage can make any one strong,\" said Enistor coolly. \"And as you had\nevery reason to be in a rage, seeing that Narvaez told what I believe\nwas a wicked lie, you may have handled him too roughly.\"\n\n\"I did not handle him at all. How dare you say so!\"\n\n\"Don't dare me too far, Montrose, or you may suffer. As it is I have a\nproposition to make to you. Only Alice and I and you know of your visit\nto the cottage last night. Alice because she loves you will hold her\ntongue. I am willing to do so also, if you will make over the fortune by\ndeed of gift to me straightaway. Narvaez' lawyer from Perchton came with\nthe police, as it seems my dead friend has left his money to Hardwick\nfor some reason. It is a vain gift, as Hardwick is also dead. However,\nthat is not the point. What I mean is that this lawyer can make out the\ndeed of gift to-day and you can sign it. Then I shall hold my tongue.\"\n\n\"And if I refuse?\" asked Montrose, seeing himself placed perilously\nbetween the devil and the deep sea.\n\n\"I shall then tell how you visited Narvaez last night, and I need hardly\ninform you that such an action coupled with your previous threats will\nbring you within reasonable distance of the hangman's noose.\"\n\nMontrose nodded and swallowed, as his mouth and throat were very dry.\n\"I see my danger. All the same I decline to give you the money.\"\n\n\"Then you must take the consequence.\"\n\n\"I am ready to do so. And I give you the credit of not believing in my\nguilt or you would scarcely compound a felony.\"\n\n\"You don't know what I would do or what I would not do,\" said Enistor\ncoolly, \"as you know little of my character. But you are in my power to\nhang, and hanged you shall be unless you surrender the money. I don't\nthink,\" ended the man with a sneer, \"that your dear friend Eberstein can\naid you in this dilemma. What do you think yourself?\"\n\n\"I think nothing about it,\" rejoined Montrose decisively. \"I have wired\nto Dr. Eberstein to come over, but----\"\n\n\"But he has not yet put in an appearance,\" interrupted the Squire, with\na harsh laugh. \"And he never will.\"\n\n\"I disagree. When he knows of my peril he will come.\"\n\n\"He knows of your peril without your telling him, if he is the wonderful\nman you have made him out to be. However, this is an unprofitable\ndiscussion. The question is, will you give me the money to save your\nneck?\"\n\n\"No!\" said Montrose obstinately.\n\n\"I shall give you until six o'clock to decide,\" replied the Squire\ncalmly. \"And then, if you still refuse, I shall inform the Inspector\nabout your visit to Narvaez last night. That will mean your immediate\narrest and subsequent punishment.\"\n\n\"It will mean the first undoubtedly, but I may escape the second. I\ntrust in God to prove my innocence.\"\n\n\"The age of miracles is past,\" said Enistor with a shrug, and left the\nlibrary to again interview the Inspector.\n\nMontrose remained where he was wondering why Eberstein did not either\ncome over to help him, or at least reply to his wire. Enistor's taunt\nwas surely true, for the young man had sufficient knowledge of\nEberstein's wonderful powers to be certain he was aware of all that had\ntaken place. With his ability to procure super-physical knowledge, he\nprobably knew who had murdered Narvaez, so he would surely come to the\nrescue. But an hour passed and the shadows began to deepen without any\ninformation. Montrose began to feel his spirits sink, and again tried to\ninvoke the helpful power which had aided him before, but without\nsuccess. He felt desperately angry against the Squire for behaving so\nwickedly, and resented the hate directed against him. \"Hate only ceases\nby love,\" as Eberstein had said, but how could he love, or even\ntolerate, a man who was bent upon encompassing his destruction. Montrose\nasked himself this question several times without getting any reply, and\nwas well nigh in despair, when an interruption came. This was none other\nthan the unexpected appearance of Alice.\n\n\"Oh, my dear, my dear,\" she cried, hastening across the shadowy room to\nthrow herself into his longing arms. \"I have been broken-hearted over\nyou, but I could not get out to see you. Father came some time ago and\nsaid that I could try to persuade you to give up the money.\"\n\n\"And what do you say?\" Montrose asked her softly.\n\n\"Give it up: give it up. What does this miserable money matter?\"\n\n\"I care nothing for the money as you well know. But Eberstein told me to\nkeep it, and I obey him in this as I obey him in all things.\"\n\n\"But why hasn't he come to help you?\" sobbed the girl, trembling.\n\n\"He will come: he will do something. I have every confidence in him.\nRemember how he prophesied this woe, and said that we had to learn to\nwalk alone. I can't believe that one who has helped me so much will\ndesert me in my hour of need. Depend upon it, Alice, all will be well.\nWhat have you got here?\"\n\n\"It is the Bible,\" she offered him the book. \"I have been trying to find\ncomfort in it. But I can't: I can't. Everything seems to be against us.\"\n\n\"Eberstein said that it would be,\" replied her lover gloomily, \"and he\nhas proved himself a true prophet. However, we can only wait and let\nyour father do what he wants to do. I refuse to buy my safety by giving\nup the money.\"\n\n\"But why not?\"\n\n\"Because such a surrender would be tantamount to my admitting guilt.\nSince Job can prove an alibi I don't know who murdered Narvaez, but I\nknow my own innocence, and am prepared to face the worst.\"\n\n\"Then--then--\" faltered Alice with white lips, \"there is the danger that\nyou may be condemned. Oh, Douglas, if my father reveals your visit, the\nevidence is so strong against you. Why not hide until we can find out\nthe truth?\"\n\n\"Would you have me sneak away like a cur?\" cried the young man in high\nanger. \"No. I am innocent and therefore can meet my accusers with a calm\nmind.\"\n\n\"But the evidence is so strong,\" pleaded Alice again. \"If we can only\nget time to learn the truth there will be some chance of proving that\nevidence false.\"\n\n\"How can we get time?\"\n\n\"You must hide, and meanwhile I shall see Dr. Eberstein and search for\nthe person who is guilty. Oh, if Julian were only alive,\" moaned Alice,\nclasping her hands, \"he would help. But he is dead: dead, and we have no\nfriends to help us in any way.\"\n\n\"We have God, and Eberstein who is a servant of God,\" said Montrose\ntenderly. \"Dearest, I must have faith and so must you. Besides, even if\nI did hide I know of no place where I could be concealed.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Alice eagerly, and thinking that this speech was a sign of\nyielding. \"There is a cave in the cliffs some distance away from the\njetty where the boats go out for the fishing. I could guide you there\nand you could take provisions and candles and something to drink. There\nyou could wait until things grew quiet, and with Dr. Eberstein I could\nfind out the truth.\"\n\n\"The cave would be discovered.\"\n\n\"No. I have thought of that. No one but I knows of the cave--at least I\nfancy so. I found it one day by chance. And no one would ever think of\nlooking for you there. They would never think you had taken refuge in a\ncave.\"\n\n\"My dear, I can't admit guilt by running away.\"\n\n\"If you don't, my father will destroy you.\"\n\nThis was true enough, and undoubtedly Enistor would press on the charge\nas strongly as possible. Montrose wavered. \"It might be reasonable to\ngain the delay,\" he muttered. \"Oh, I wish Eberstein were here to\nadvise.\"\n\nAs if in answer to his speech, one of the servants entered with a\ntelegram, which proved to be from the doctor. Montrose opened it when\nthe maid had left the room, and found the message rather cryptic: also\nunsigned, save by the initial \"E.\" It ran: \"Matthew x. 23, twelve\nwords!\"\n\n\"Look up the text, Alice,\" said the young man eagerly.\n\nThe girl, luckily having the Bible with her, rapidly skimmed over the\nleaves and took the book to the window to read the small print in the\nfast-failing light. \"But when they persecute you in this city, flee ye\ninto another,\" she read slowly, and would have continued the verse, but\nthat her lover stopped her with a gesture.\n\n\"Those are the twelve words,\" he said, folding up the telegram. \"The\nrest of the verse doesn't matter. So Eberstein wants me to fly. I wonder\nwhy,\" and he looked woefully disappointed.\n\n\"Take his advice,\" said Alice eagerly, and glad that such a powerful\nopinion backed her up. \"You always obey him, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes. All the same I did not think he would tell me to sneak away. It\nseems to be cowardly: it seems like admitting guilt.\"\n\n\"I said in London that I believed in Dr. Eberstein and I say the same\nnow, Douglas,\" was Alice's decided answer. \"He knows more than we do\nabout things, as he prophesied that we should have trouble. Do what he\nsays.\"\n\nMontrose frowned and bit his lip, for his faith in the doctor was being\nsorely tried. He never expected to get advice coinciding with that of\nAlice. And the idea of flight was opposed to his sense of manhood. All\nthe same there was no sense in being heedlessly rash, and undoubtedly\nEberstein must have some powerful reason to telegraph as he had done.\nAlice watched his changing face eagerly and inwardly prayed that he\nmight yield. She saw no safety for the present but in flight. Finally\nwith a sigh he took her face between his two hands and kissed her. \"I\nshall go to your cave,\" he murmured, but winced at such resignation to\nwhat he regarded as an ignoble course.\n\nThe two put the plan into execution at once and stole away across the\nmoor into the gathering night after certain preparations. In the space\nof an hour Alice regained her room, and was apparently innocent of what\nhad taken place. But Douglas was safe in the unknown cave with a scanty\nstore of food, and wine, and a few candles.\n\n\"Gone,\" said Enistor furiously. \"Then he is guilty after all.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE UNEXPECTED\n\n\nAs Montrose had stated to Alice, his flight was looked upon as a tacit\nadmission of guilt. Up to that moment Enistor had not been quite certain\nthat Douglas was the culprit, as the young man had never given him the\nimpression that he was one likely to proceed to such extremities. But\nthis sudden disappearance could only mean that he had done so, therefore\nEnistor very naturally concluded that Montrose had been infuriated by\nDon Pablo's bitter tongue into revenging himself hastily. Probably he\nnow regretted that haste, but whether he did so or not mattered little\nto the Squire. All that the master of Tremore knew was that his enemy\nwas now at his mercy, and he intended to take full advantage of the\nopportunity. His first step was to inform the Perchton Inspector of that\nfatal visit to the cottage.\n\nThen, very speedily, the hue and cry was out, and for miles round the\npolice explored the country. There was no doubt in any one's mind as to\nthe actual truth. The threats of Montrose, his presence at the cottage\nat the time when the crime had taken place, and now the unexpected\ndisappearance--these things showed that Douglas and none other was the\nguilty person. The next day every one was searching far and wide for the\ncriminal, and Enistor was so vindictive that he offered a reward he\ncould ill afford for the capture of the unfortunate young man. This he\ndid to gratify the hatred which had existed for many incarnations, and\nalso because he believed that when Montrose found it was impossible to\nescape the gallows, he would make over his wrongfully inherited money to\nAlice. And once Alice was in possession of the income, her father felt\nconvinced that he would be able to handle the same. It was a very\nplausible plan, and Enistor worked hard to carry it out.\n\nAs Alice had come and gone in the space of an hour, and her absence had\nnot been noticed, save by the housekeeper, the Squire was far from\nsuspecting that his daughter had organised the flight and selected the\nhiding-place. As to the housekeeper, she was quite on the side of the\nlovers, since she did not believe for one moment that a nice young\ngentleman like Montrose had so vilely murdered Don Pablo. Therefore she\nprocured the food and wine and the candles which Montrose had taken with\nhim, and also promised to hold her tongue in spite of all temptation.\nAlice trusted her, and she was right to do so, for the woman was\nperfectly staunch. Moreover the girl was glad to have some one to whom\nshe could talk freely. During those dark days she saw little of her\nfather, but remained in her bedroom praying constantly for the safety of\nher lover. It was a terrible ordeal for one so young and delicate and\nfriendless, but Alice felt that she was being supported by the Master of\nLove, and that out of sorrow would come enduring joy.\n\nMrs. Sparrow came to see her, and the narrow-minded grey woman proved to\nbe unusually sympathetic. Neither she nor her husband could bring\nthemselves to believe that Douglas was guilty, in spite of all evidence\nto the contrary, and for this loyal support Alice was duly grateful. Of\ncourse the vicar's wife was excessively aggravating with her platitudes,\nwhich did not give much comfort. \"All is for the best!\" \"We must not\nmurmur at the rod!\" \"It is for your good that you suffer!\"--these\ncut-and-dried phrases dropped incessantly from Mrs. Sparrow's prim lips,\nand wrought on Alice's nerves to such an extent that sometimes she could\nhave screamed. But knowing that the grey woman meant well, and\nappreciating her defence of Montrose, the girl controlled her feelings,\nand accepted these exasperating condolences as genuine, which they\nassuredly were. But she longed for the presence of Dr. Eberstein and\nwondered why he did not put in an appearance. Yet he remained absent and\nsilent, not even sending a letter to comfort her in trouble. Still Alice\nhad such a belief in the man that she did not resent his apparent\nneglect. All the same, her faith was being sorely tried.\n\nJob Trevel did not return. According to his mother he had gone away in\nhis boat to the fishing-grounds at six o'clock on the evening of the\nmurder. No one therefore could suspect that he had anything to do with\nthe matter, but the Polwellin folk wondered at his absence. Rose could\ngive no explanation, as the death of her patron caused her so much grief\nthat she took to her bed. There was no chance now that she would go to\nLondon and appear on the stage, and beyond possessing some jewels and a\nfew articles of costly clothing, she had benefited little by Don Pablo's\nsinister friendship. She would not even have his name mentioned, and\nnow that the man was dead both Dame Trevel and Mrs. Penwin hoped that\nRose would marry Job and settle down. The gaudy bubble blown by Narvaez\nhad burst, and the disappointed beauty had to do the best she could.\nTherefore, she and the two old women looked forward to the return of Job\nas the best thing that could happen to put the crooked straight. And as\nthe weather had been stormy, it was presumed that Job had been driven\nfor shelter into some distant cove, whence he would come back in due\ntime.\n\nPolwellin was quite excited over the tragic events which had taken\nplace, and the village was in a ferment over the possibility of this\nperson and that gaining the reward offered by the Squire. But although\nevery acre of the moorland was searched the fugitive could not be\ndiscovered. It was over forty-eight hours before the first clue was\nfound, and that clue came from a quarter least expected. Also it was\ngiven to the man who most wanted to learn the whereabouts of Montrose,\non the second day after the commission of the crime. Enistor was the\nman, and Mr. Sparrow was the person who put him into communication with\nthe individual who afforded the desired information.\n\n\"The most wonderful thing has happened, Mr. Enistor,\" said the vicar,\nentering the library on the afternoon of the second day. \"The age of\nmiracles is not yet past, my dear friend.\"\n\nEnistor scowled. He did not like to be called a dear friend by the\nparson, as he thought the man was an ass, and he was quite sure in his\nown mind that miracles were all rubbish. He told Mr. Sparrow as much.\n\"This isn't Palestine to be gulled by such things, and we live in a\nscientific era.\"\n\n\"In a very godless era,\" said the vicar in a tone of reproof. \"And I\nonly hope that the wonderful thing that has happened will convert those\nwho do not believe in an Almighty Being to a more reverent frame of\nmind.\"\n\nThis was a hit at the Squire, who was looked upon as an atheist by Mr.\nSparrow. But Enistor did not take up the challenge. \"What is your\nmiracle?\"\n\n\"Mr. Hardwick is alive.\"\n\n\"What?\" the Squire could not but feel startled at the announcement.\n\n\"Ah, I thought you would be amazed,\" said Mr. Sparrow complacently.\n\"Wonderful are the works of God and----\"\n\n\"Oh, hang your platitudes! You talk rubbish. Why, you told me yourself\nthat Hardwick was dead.\"\n\n\"I did. I saw him lying dead on his bed, and mentioned to Mr. Montrose\nthat he looked as though he were asleep. It might be a case of suspended\nanimation,\" continued Mr. Sparrow, brushing his bald head thoughtfully,\n\"something of a cataleptic nature it may be.\"\n\n\"Well? Well? Well? Go on.\"\n\n\"There is nothing further to say, Mr. Enistor. The presumed dead man\nrevived this morning and is now as well as you or I. I was sent for\nimmediately by the landlady and called to express my astonishment. I\nhave telegraphed for the Perchton doctor who deposed to the death. He\nwill be amazed to learn what has taken place. Wonderful! Wonderful!\nWonderful!\"\n\n\"It is no doubt a case of catalepsy as you say,\" growled the Squire,\nturning to his desk again. \"A good thing for Hardwick that he wasn't\nburied alive. Now he can enjoy Narvaez' fortune and have a good time.\"\n\n\"I hope he will be a good man, seeing that he has been raised from the\ndead like Lazarus. Not that Mr. Hardwick was bad. Indeed I always\nthought that he had signs of grace about him. Well! Well! His\nresurrection gives me a text for next Sunday. I thought you would be\npleased.\"\n\n\"I am not pleased and I am not sorry,\" retorted Enistor. \"Hardwick is a\nnonentity and is nothing to me.\"\n\n\"I thought you were friends, Mr. Enistor. He asks to see you, saying\nthat he is sure you will come down to him at once.\"\n\n\"He presumes too much. I have quite enough to do in searching for this\nscoundrel who murdered my dear friend.\"\n\n\"I don't believe he did,\" said Sparrow decidedly. \"Mr. Montrose is not\nthe man to shed blood.\"\n\n\"He didn't,\" said the Squire grimly, \"he broke the man's neck. And if he\ndid not murder Narvaez, who did? Not Job Trevel, who was the other\nperson who uttered threats.\"\n\n\"It is a great mystery,\" sighed the vicar, putting on his hat.\n\n\"Like this confounded resurrection of Hardwick. Why the deuce couldn't\nhe stay in the next world after taking the trouble to go there? He's not\nmuch use in this one so far as I can see.\"\n\n\"Question not the decrees of the Almighty,\" said Mr. Sparrow rebukingly.\n\"But there: I am speaking to a deaf adder. May I see Miss Enistor to\ncomfort her and offer up a prayer in her present sorrow?\"\n\n\"Yes. She's moping in her room and behaving like a fool. Offer up what\nprayers you like: they won't do any good. It is all her folly in getting\nengaged to that young criminal that has brought things to this pass.\"\n\n\"Mr. Montrose is innocent,\" said Sparrow obstinately, \"and in due time\nGod will prove his innocence. I wish you a softer heart, Mr. Enistor,\nand good-day,\" and the worthy parson stalked out of the room to seek\nAlice and console her.\n\nEnistor did not resume his work immediately. It had to do with the\ndisappearance of Montrose, as he was writing to the Perchton Inspector.\nBefore the entrance of Sparrow with his wonderful news, the work had\nseemed very important, but now Enistor felt inclined to lay it aside and\nseek the lodgings of the artist. Certainly it was wonderful that\nHardwick should recover, after he had been lying dead--as the doctor\ninsisted--for so long a time. Undoubtedly it was a case of catalepsy,\nand Enistor felt curious to see the man who had been so nearly buried\nalive. His sister was due the next day to see about the funeral, and\nEnistor laughed when he thought how the frivolous little woman would be\nsurprised. Disappointed also it might be, as she, being the next of kin,\nwould have enjoyed Narvaez' money had her brother really passed away. It\nwas all very strange, and after a moment's hesitation the Squire put on\nhis cap and walked down to Polwellin. He would see for himself what had\ntaken place, and would question Hardwick concerning what he had seen\nduring his trance. For trance it was the Squire felt sure, and the\nrecovery--in his opinion--was a perfectly natural one.\n\nThere was quite a crowd round the lodging, and Hardwick's landlady was\nrecounting her feelings when the dead man had come to life. She\ncertainly looked as though she had sustained a shock, and seemed rather\ndisappointed that there was to be no funeral. Enistor listened grimly to\nher incoherent explanations, then pushed his way into the house and\nsought the artist's sitting-room. He found Hardwick dressed in his usual\nclothes and presenting an unusually vigorous appearance. His face was\nmore highly coloured, his eyes were full of fire, and he moved about\nwith the swift grace of a panther, alert, vital, impetuously and\nwonderfully alive. Enistor stared in amazement at the sight. Never had\nhe seen before so splendid and powerful a man, or one so charged with\nlife-force.\n\n\"Dying seems to have done you good, Hardwick,\" he observed dryly.\n\n\"It looks like it,\" replied the other, and although he spoke in his\nusual mellow voice, the Squire pricked up his ears and looked at him\ninquiringly. The tone was more imperious than that ordinarily used by\nHardwick, and had in it a dominant, crushing quality which startled the\nvisitor.\n\nThe two men stared hard at one another. Hardwick took up his position on\nthe hearth-rug, leaning easily against the mantelpiece, while Enistor\ntook possession of a deep arm-chair near the window. The door was\nclosed, as was the window, so they were quite alone; entirely free from\nobservation and eavesdropping. The Squire felt that in spite of\nHardwick's late cataleptic trance the artist was more alive than he was,\nsince wave after wave of powerful animal vitality seemed to emanate from\nhim and fill the little room. Then Enistor cried out with sudden terror.\n\nHe had reason to do so. Every nerve in his body was aching with agony,\nand every muscle was twisted with pain. Some force ran through his frame\nlike fire, excruciating, insistent and terrible. He could not rise from\nthe chair, he could not even move a finger, but lay where he was inert\nand helpless, with that devouring flame tormenting him to madness. And\nindeed Enistor wondered why he did not go mad with the frenzy of pain,\nwhile Hardwick smiled on him quietly and calmly and unwinkingly, like an\navenging god. After that one cry the miserable man uttered no other. He\nfelt that it would be useless to protest in any weak human way. He was\nin the grip of a tremendous force and as helpless as a fly in the claws\nof a spider.\n\n\"I don't think you will taunt me any more with the loss of my power,\"\nsaid Hardwick suavely. \"I am a fraud, am I? my will has been shattered?\nEh? How do you like that, my dear friend?\" and again there came another\nsurge of the biting fire, which caused the perspiration to break out on\nEnistor's forehead.\n\n\"Who--who--who are you?\" stammered the Squire brokenly. He was beginning\nto have an inkling of the appalling truth, for he well knew that only\none man--if man he were--could exercise such devilish power.\n\n\"I think you can tell me that.\"\n\n\"Narvaez!\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" The magician withdrew his intense gaze, and loosened his\nvictim from the bonds of torment, then sat down quietly, smiling and\nbland. \"I think you have had enough proof.\"\n\nEnistor feebly moved his limbs and wiped his forehead with his\npocket-handkerchief. His mouth was so dry that he could scarcely speak,\nand he thankfully poured out a glass of water from a carafe which was on\nthe table. As he drank, a delicious sense of freedom from pain passed\nthrough him, and he knew that the man lounging in the chair was curing\nwhat he had hurt. \"I have had enough proof,\" gasped Enistor, setting\ndown the empty glass. \"You are Don Pablo in Hardwick's body.\"\n\n\"Yes! I am very well satisfied with my new suit of clothes,\" said the\nother, looking at his limbs complacently. \"Hardwick's retiring soul left\nits earthly vehicle in good order. The organs are all sound, the blood\nis of the best, and the whole mechanism only needed the extra vitality\nwhich I am able to supply.\"\n\n\"How can you get the vitality?\" asked Enistor rather nervously, for the\nsight before him was enough to shake an ordinary man to the core of his\nbeing.\n\n\"Never mind. I know how to tap the source of life and use what I will.\nHardwick could not do that, being ignorant, therefore he died from sheer\nlack of vitality. A lucky thing for me, as it gave me a chance of\nreplacing my worn-out body with this very splendid instrument.\"\n\n\"Did you kill Hardwick?\"\n\n\"No. There was no need to kill him. His Ego had been drawing the soul\nback for a long time, and knowing that he would soon die, I made my\narrangements accordingly so as to enter the body.\"\n\n\"Then your lie to lure Montrose to the cottage----\"\n\n\"_Was_ a lie--in your interest,\" said Narvaez-Hardwick coolly. \"It was\nnecessary that Montrose should be there so as to be inculpated in my\ndeath. Do you understand now why I insulted Alice so that Montrose might\npublicly quarrel with me?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" The Squire turned pale as he began to comprehend the infernal\ningenuity with which the magician had wrought out his scheme. \"Then\nMontrose is not the guilty man?\"\n\n\"No more than you are. My insult to your daughter was a comedy to\ndeceive the public as to Montrose's feelings towards me. My behaviour\nwhen you called to taunt me was part of the same comedy. I think I\nplayed my part excellently well, Enistor, or you would have been afraid\nto say what you did. I suppose you are now convinced that I still have\nmy powers: if not----\" he leaned forward to fix the other man with his\neye.\n\n\"No! No! No, I am quite convinced,\" and Enistor cowered in his chair.\n\"You are Narvaez true enough.\"\n\n\"To you and to The Adversary whom no disguise can deceive. But the rest\nof the world will know me as Julian Hardwick. When Montrose is disposed\nof, my friend, I can then marry Alice as arranged. She was not averse\nto becoming Hardwick's wife, so there will be no difficulty over that.\nAnd I am still rich, as I made over all my fortune by will to Hardwick,\nand inherit my own money. I have sent for the lawyer, who will come and\nsee me to-morrow to arrange about the transfer of the property when my\nlate body is buried. And I think,\" ended Narvaez-Hardwick pensively,\n\"that I shall follow the corpse of my benefactor to the grave. Grace my\nown funeral,\" he laughed, much amused.\n\n\"Where is Hardwick's soul?\" stammered Enistor, who felt the hair of his\nhead rising with the natural terror of the human for the superhuman.\n\n\"Purging its baser qualities on the Astral Plane,\" said the other\ncarelessly. \"He won't stay long there, as he was such a pious ass he\nwill probably get his share of heaven before long. I am not interested\nin him. I have done him no harm in taking his body. It was useless to\nhim and is useful to me. Oh!\"\n\nNarvaez-Hardwick rose and stretched himself. \"It is splendid to have so\nmagnificent a vehicle. In it I shall live years and years gaining wider\nand wider knowledge to extend my empire.\"\n\n\"But the Great Power that struck you down and warned you----\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue,\" snarled the magician, with a look which transformed\nthe kindly face of Hardwick into the semblance of a fiend. \"Leave me to\ndeal with powers higher or lower as the case may be. I have held my own\nfor centuries against all. Are you about to become a pupil of The\nAdversary as I suggested when you taunted me in the cottage?\"\n\n\"No. And yet The Adversary has greater power than you have.\"\n\n\"It's a lie,\" shouted Narvaez-Hardwick imperiously. \"What struck me down\nwas a much Mightier Power, which I don't choose to name. I told you that\nbefore. Hold to me, Enistor, and I can give you the kingdoms of the\nearth.\"\n\n\"At what price?\" Enistor shivered at the look on the other's face.\n\n\"You know the price. You must give me Alice for my wife, and you must\nobey me in every way. I cannot instruct you unless you do. And now that\nMontrose is in your power and has to pay back the life he took from you\nin Chaldea, you can force him to give up the fortune.\"\n\n\"He refuses.\"\n\n\"He dare not refuse if he wants to save his neck.\"\n\n\"But is he guilty?\"\n\n\"No.\" Narvaez-Hardwick laughed contemptuously. \"You might have guessed\nthat no pupil of The Adversary would be bold enough to commit murder. He\nis full of silly scruples. You know who killed me!\"\n\n\"No, I don't.\"\n\n\"Then you are a fool,\" said the magician roundly. \"Job Trevel is the\nman.\"\n\nEnistor started from his chair. \"Impossible! Job was away in his----\"\n\n\"Job was at the cottage on the evening when I died,\" interrupted\nNarvaez-Hardwick grimly. \"I sent for Rose Penwin to come and see me some\ntime after eight, knowing that Job would follow. I contrived to let him\nknow by impressing a message on his foolish brain. He really was going\nout in his boat, and at six was about to start when he felt compelled to\ncome to the cottage. He saw Rose on the moor and followed her. By that\ntime I had drawn Montrose to the cottage, so as to incriminate him, and\nyou know the means I used. After I had confessed that I had told a lie\nabout the marriage he went away, and I saw Rose, to talk nonsense and\nrouse Job's jealousy. I went with her to the gate and kissed her there.\nShe didn't mind, as I was an old man and had promised she should go to\nLondon next week. Job was waiting for her at the gate, having seen her\nenter the cottage. Then he sprang on me and broke my neck. After that\nRose ran away and Job returned to his boat.\"\n\n\"He has not come back yet,\" said Enistor, horror-struck at the callous\nway in which Narvaez-Hardwick detailed his wickedness.\n\n\"Nor will he. He fears lest the truth should come to light and he should\nbe hanged for my murder. Rose knows, but for her own sake she will hold\nher tongue. So you see that Montrose cannot escape. He can offer no\ndefence and must be hanged. Go to him and offer him his life on\ncondition that he surrenders the fortune. Then hang him, or pardon him\nif you will. I don't care in the least. You are bound to me by stronger\nbonds when the money is gained, and as Julian Hardwick I shall marry\nAlice and train her as a clairvoyante. We shall go to Spain, where I\nhave my home, as Narvaez, and which as Julian Hardwick I inherit. I\nthink I have managed everything very cleverly.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" faltered Enistor, awed by the power and frightened by the\nunscrupulous cruelty of this strange being. \"But Montrose has\ndisappeared.\"\n\nNarvaez-Hardwick frowned. \"I know that, but I don't know where he is. I\nhave searched and searched without success.\"\n\n\"But you have not yet been out of doors.\"\n\n\"You fool, have I no means of searching other than in the physical?\"\ncried the man wrathfully. \"I have been looking for him from the other\nside. It is as easy for me to use my astral body as this physical one.\nBut The Adversary has placed a veil round him. I cannot see where he is.\nStill Alice knows; I am certain of that. She will want to see him:\nfollow her, and then deal with the man as you will. I have placed him at\nyour mercy. But I am bound to say that this would not have been the case\nhad he not killed you in Chaldea, my friend. The Adversary would have\ninterfered.\"\n\n\"He may interfere now,\" said Enistor, rising slowly.\n\n\"He cannot. Montrose owes you the life of which he robbed you. You can\ndo what you like. Where he is I cannot tell, as he is protected so far.\nBut his evil Karma is too powerful for this protection to continue. He\nmust work out his fate. Follow Alice: she will lead you to him.\"\n\n\"I am sure Alice does not know, Narvaez.\"\n\n\"Call me Hardwick, you fool, else you will be considered a lunatic and\nwill be shut up for one. Alice does know. This much I am aware of. She\nassisted him to fly: she knows where he is hidden. Now I think that is\nall I have to see you about. You can go.\"\n\nEnistor's pride revolted at being ordered about like a dog. \"I wish you\nwould speak more civilly, Hardwick,\" he said, scowling.\n\n\"You spoke civilly to me when you thought I had lost my power, didn't\nyou?\" jeered the other. \"Don't bend your brows at me, or I shall make\nyou suffer. I have done much for you and expect repayment. Nothing for\nnothing is the rule of the Left-hand Path.\"\n\n\"I'd like to kill you.\"\n\n\"Oh, my dog is showing his teeth, is he? Take care! I have shown you\nwhat I can do. If you want to be shown further----\"\n\n\"No! No!\" Enistor winced at the thought of again enduring that cruel\npain.\n\n\"Then obey me. Go away and watch Alice so that she may unknowingly lead\nyou to Montrose's burrow. When he is found come to me again. Good-bye.\"\n\nEnistor gnashed his teeth at the insults hurled at him, but being in the\ngrip of a greater force than he had within himself, there was nothing\nfor it but to yield. He departed with a gloomy face, to carry out his\norders. Narvaez, in the splendid body of Hardwick, rejoiced with unholy\nglee.\n\n\"I am winning,\" he cried exultingly. \"Winning all along the line.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nTHE CHOICE\n\n\nEnistor returned to Tremore in a black silent rage, wishing heartily\nthat he could find some one with whom to discuss the position in which\nhe found himself. But there was no one, as the mere statement that\nNarvaez had taken possession of Hardwick's body would be scouted by the\nmost credulous. There were some things which could not possibly be\nbelieved, and this was one of them. The present generation was too\nmaterial to entertain, for a single moment, so wild an idea, and Enistor\nknew--as his master had warned him--that he ran a very good chance of\nbeing locked up as a lunatic, if he even hinted at the astounding truth.\nThus the Squire's dabbling in unholy matters had isolated him from his\nfellow-creatures, and, at the moment, he felt the deprivation keenly.\nThere was nothing he could do but shut himself up in his library and\nthink over his position.\n\nIt was not a pleasant one. By his own acts in this and previous lives he\nhad committed himself to bondage, and was treated like a slave who had\nno rights of his own. What a fool he had been to doubt Narvaez' power,\nsince again and again he had received proofs of it. On the evil hill\nbeside the Druidical altar he had seen with other than physical eyes the\nterrible elemental creatures which Don Pablo could evoke, and whom he\ncontrolled by his powerful will. Any doctor would have told him that it\nwas a case of mere hallucination brought about by the hypnotic\nsuggestion of certain weird ceremonies. But the Squire knew better.\nThere were ways of entering the invisible world which interpenetrates\nthe visible sphere, and Narvaez, by centuries of study and training, had\nlearned how to open the door. He had flung it wide to his pupil, but it\ncould not be closed again, as Enistor did not know the necessary\nconjuration. This in itself showed the man how impossible it was for his\nignorance to cope with the knowledge of Don Pablo.\n\nAnd now that the magician's black arts had secured a new body, the\nperfection of which assured him a valuable instrument for many years\nwherewith to rule on the physical plane, Enistor saw painfully clearly\nthat he would be more of a slave to him than ever. He had to obey\nNarvaez, as he had ample proof of how the man could enforce his will by\ninflicting torments. For the first time, therefore, the Squire began to\nconsider how he could escape from his thraldom, and ruefully confessed\nthe truth of the significant text, \"The way of the transgressor is\nhard!\" Had Enistor been master instead of slave he would not have\ntroubled about the saying, but being at the beck and call of a merciless\ntyrant, he wondered why he had been such a fool as to take the Left-hand\nPath. So far as he could see there was no chance of retracing his steps.\n\nYet he had one great hope. With his own eyes he had seen the powerful\nLord of the Dark Face struck down in the moment of his wicked triumph,\nso there was no doubt that the Power of Good was infinitely greater than\nthe Power of Evil. It was in Enistor's mind to seek out Eberstein and\nask for his assistance. The doctor knew as much about the unseen as\nNarvaez, and perhaps more, since he was in communication with higher\nplanes than the magician could reach. Undoubtedly, Eberstein, always\nbent upon doing good, would willingly give his aid, but the price\ndemanded would be the renunciation of revenge. That price the Squire\nfelt that he could not pay, especially now, when Montrose lay at his\nmercy. The death in Chaldea he might overlook, since it was more or\nless, to the conception of his physical brain, the figment of a vision.\nBut the money which Montrose unjustly withheld could not be given up, as\nEnistor needed it desperately to forward his plans for success in the\nsocial and political worlds. Therefore he did not seek out Eberstein, as\nthe price which the doctor would ask for giving aid was too great. When\nthe Squire came to this conclusion he heard a faint regretful sigh,\nwhich startled him not a little. There was no one in the library and\nboth door and windows were closed. Yet the sound was quite distinct, and\nEnistor ardently wished that he was sufficiently clairvoyant to see who\nwas present. In a fanciful moment he wondered if his guardian angel had\ntaken his departure, seeing that it was hopeless to induce him to turn\nfrom evil to good. But the idea was ridiculous, as the Squire could see\nno use in anything that did not benefit himself. He rose to his feet\nfully determined to find Montrose and give him his choice of life or\ndeath. If the young man surrendered the money he would be permitted to\nescape; if he declined, then an uncomfortable death awaited him at no\nvery distant date. Enistor felt quite virtuous in offering the\nalternative, as he considered that he was giving Montrose a chance of\nsalvation which the man would be foolish not to accept.\n\nAs to Narvaez, Enistor hoped that shortly the magician--physically at\nall events--would remove himself from his path. If Montrose would only\nact sensibly and escape to Australia or America, after giving up the\nfortune, then Alice could marry Don Pablo, and go with him to Spain.\nThus Enistor would be left free from all domestic relations and with\nfive thousand a year to act as his ambition urged him. And of course the\ngirl would think she was marrying Julian, for whom she had a great\nregard; so, failing the fugitive becoming her husband, which on the face\nof it was impossible, Narvaez, in the body of Hardwick, would have\nlittle difficulty in gaining his ends. In this way everything would be\nvery nicely arranged and he could dispense with the assistance of\nEberstein. In his insane egotism, strengthened by the wicked teaching of\nDon Pablo, the Squire never gave a thought to the idea that he was\ndeliberately ruining an innocent man. He was too imbued with the iron\nrule of the Left-hand Path to flinch at such villainy, and considered\nthat the weaker must give way to the stronger. That was only fair and\nlogical. The irony of this thought was that Enistor, as inferior to Don\nPablo, did not wish to submit to him, although the strength of the\nlatter compelled him to do so. Yet he was exercising towards Montrose\nthe very tyranny he resented being exercised towards himself. But no\namount of argument could have convinced Enistor that he was illogical.\n\nAt afternoon tea Alice made her appearance, looking anxious but\ndetermined, since her faith in Eberstein, and in the Great Master of\nEberstein, braced her to face the worst serenely. Things were dreadfully\ntangled, the outlook was black, and, humanly speaking, it seemed that\nthere was no possible chance of happiness for herself and her lover. But\nsince the doctor had foretold not only the coming of calamity, but the\npassing of the same, if bravely endured, Alice was perfectly certain in\nher own mind that in some mysterious way God would answer her constant\nprayers for joy and peace. Thus, although she was pale, her eyes were\nbright and steady, and she behaved in a calm reasonable manner, as\nthough everything went well with her. Enistor marvelled at her\ncomposure, and would have dearly loved to shake it by announcing that he\nknew she had contrived the flight of Montrose. But this he could not do\nlest he should place the girl on her guard. Therefore he said nothing,\nhaving arranged mentally to follow her when she stole out to seek the\nhiding-place. \"There is no news of that young scoundrel,\" said Enistor,\nunable to withstand the gibe. \"He has concealed himself very cleverly.\"\n\n\"Douglas is no scoundrel,\" said Alice steadily; \"circumstances are\nagainst him, and he does well to hide, seeing how bitter you are against\nhim.\"\n\n\"A lie set forth in bad English,\" sneered the Squire. \"He is a\nscoundrel, as every murderer is, and I am not bitter against him. I\nonly wish to see justice done.\"\n\n\"You care nothing for justice, father. All you wish is to use this\naccusation to force Douglas to give up Aunt Lucy's money.\"\n\n\"You are very impertinent, but you speak truly enough. My main desire is\nto get that money, and unless Montrose surrenders it he shall hang.\"\n\n\"You will have to catch him first,\" said the girl coldly, but said no\nmore. For her father was behaving so wickedly in her opinion that she\nfound it difficult to speak to him with any degree of civility.\n\nEnistor peered at her from under his strongly marked eyebrows and\nscowled in a menacing manner. It occurred to him that she might have\ngone to see Montrose during the afternoon, in which event she would\nassuredly not seek him after dark, and therefore he would not be able to\nfollow her to the hiding-place. \"Where have you been these last few\nhours?\" he asked acidly.\n\n\"I went to see Rose Penwin, who is ill,\" said Alice quietly.\n\nEnistor, bearing in mind what Narvaez had stated, started violently.\n\"What did she tell you?\"\n\n\"Nothing! What is there she could tell?\"\n\n\"One never knows what a silly girl like that will say,\" retorted the\nSquire, reassured that the secret of the murder was safe. \"What else\nhave you done?\"\n\n\"I saw Dame Trevel and learned that Job had not yet returned. Then, as I\nwas told how Julian had recovered from his cataleptic trance, I called\non him!\"\n\n\"You must have gone to his lodgings immediately after I left,\" said\nEnistor quickly. \"Well, don't you think his recovery is wonderful?\"\n\n\"Yes! Mr. Sparrow said the doctor was sure Julian was dead, so it is\nlittle less than a miracle that he is alive and well. But----\" Alice\nhesitated, and looked highly perplexed.\n\n\"But what?\"\n\n\"Julian is different from what he was.\"\n\n\"In a way I admit that, Alice. He has more strength. It is a wonderful\nrecovery, and I expect the case will be reported in _The Lancet_.\"\n\n\"I don't mean that exactly,\" replied the girl reluctantly; \"but somehow\nJulian is quite different. I liked him very much, as he was always so\ngood and kind,\" she hesitated again, then ended abruptly: \"I don't like\nhim now.\"\n\n\"Rather whimsical, don't you think?\" said her father tartly, and\nwondering if the girl's intuition had informed her of the marvellous\ntruth.\n\n\"I suppose it is,\" said his daughter wearily; \"but whatever may be the\nreason Julian's illness has changed him into something different. I used\nto be so happy when with him, but now I shudder in his presence. He has\nthe same terrifying effect on me that Don Pablo used to have.\"\n\n\"You are talking nonsense,\" said the Squire roughly.\n\n\"I know I am. An illness could not change any one into other than he\nwas. I can't help my impression all the same. Julian was good, now he is\nevil. I never wish to see him again.\"\n\n\"That is a pity,\" said the man slowly, \"for now that Narvaez is dead\nand Montrose has proved himself to be unworthy of your hand, I wish you\nto marry Julian Hardwick.\"\n\nAlice started to her feet. \"Never! Never! Never!\" she cried vehemently.\n\n\"You are capricious, my dear. You were willing enough to marry Julian\nrather than Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"Of two evils I chose the least.\"\n\n\"You shall choose the least still, if Julian is the least. I objected to\nyou marrying him because he was poor. Now that he has inherited the\nmoney of Narvaez he is a good match for you.\"\n\n\"No!\" Alice struck the table so violently that the cups rattled in the\nsaucers. \"Douglas is innocent and Douglas shall be my husband. Even when\nJulian was his own dear self I would not have married him after meeting\nDouglas; much less would I do so now, when he has changed into something\nhorrid.\"\n\nEnistor saw that she sensed the presence of Don Pablo's black soul in\nHardwick's body, but as she could not explain and would not be believed\nif she did explain, he merely laughed at her vehemence. \"You are a silly\ngirl to talk in this way. First you like the man, then you don't, and\ntalk of a change which only exists in your imagination. Are you going\nmad?\"\n\n\"I may be,\" said Alice moodily. \"I have had enough to send me mad. But\nyou will understand this, father, that I love Douglas and intend to\nmarry him.\"\n\nThis was her final determination, and before Enistor could argue further\nshe left the room, fearing a breakdown. When alone she flung herself\nface downward on the bed and tried to compose her mind. It was\nnecessary that she should do so, as late at night she intended to steal\nout with food for her lover. Her father--as she thought--would never\nsuspect her, and she could leave the house when he and the servants were\nin bed. Already the housekeeper had made up a bundle, which lay in a\nconvenient cupboard, and would have accompanied her as chaperon, but\nthat her mistress declined such companionship. Montrose was nearer at\nhand than any one suspected, so it was just as well that as few people\nas possible should seek the hiding-place. Alice, nerved by love to walk\nthe lonely moors in the chilly gloom, intended to go alone, and in\nholding to this resolve became more heroic than she ever thought she\ncould be. But in her heart perfect love had cast out fear, and she would\nhave faced an army to succour the man she intended to marry.\n\nThe dinner was quiet and the evening was quiet, as Enistor spoke little\nand Alice was not inclined for conversation. Indeed there was nothing to\nsay, as father and daughter were silently hostile to one another. Owing\nto the Squire's want of paternal affection they never had been friendly,\nand now that he wished to ruin her life by handing over Montrose to the\npolice, Alice felt that she hated her father. Eberstein would have told\nher that it was wrong to do so, even in the face of excellent reasons.\nBut Eberstein was absent and silent, so in this dark hour the girl had\nto fight entirely unaided. As a matter of fact, she was being guided\nalong the dreadful path skilfully, and her every movement was being\nwatched, as her every thought was known to her guardian. But her\nclairvoyant power being in abeyance, she did not guess this, and so far\nas she was aware, only the strength of her love for Douglas enabled her\nto battle against the dark influences which tried hard to sap her\nstrength.\n\nWhen Enistor retired to his library, Alice excused herself on the plea\nof a bad headache and went to her room. There she sat in the faint light\nof a solitary candle sending loving thoughts to the lonely lover in the\ncave under the cliffs. Nine o'clock struck and then ten, but it was not\nuntil eleven that the house became dark and quiet. A stolen visit to the\nlibrary assured her that her father had gone to rest, so, thinking that\nall was well, the girl put on a warm cloak with a hood and took the\nbasket, to leave by a side door which the housekeeper had left\nunlatched. In ten minutes she was through the darkling wood and on the\nbare spaces of the moor. But she did not see that her father was\nfollowing with the skill of a Redskin on the trail. Enistor had watched\nand waited pertinaciously, and had little difficulty in getting on the\ntrack.\n\nIt was a stormy, blowy night, with a mighty wind rushing inward from the\nsea, and Alice struggled against the blast incessantly on her way to the\ncliffs. Every now and then there was a lull and she could hear the\nclamour of the waves and the thunder of the waters hammering against the\nrocks. In the vast hollow of the sky, black clouds were hurtling across\nthe firmament at tremendous speed, unveiling every now and then a\nhaggard moon, full-orbed yet with waning fire. It was a Walpurgis night,\nwhen warlocks and witches should have been abroad, rather than this\ndelicately nurtured girl, made heroic by love. Enistor, toiling after\nher at a distance, wondered at a strength of character which he had been\nfar from thinking his daughter possessed, and laughed grimly to think\nthat unknowingly she was placing her lover within reach of the gripping\nhands of justice. Amidst the clash and clang of the elemental forces the\ngirl, on her mission of love, and the man, on his errand of vengeance,\nstaggered across the waste land drenched by the fierce rain and buffeted\nby the roaring winds. Occasionally a zigzag flash cut through the inky\nclouds, but the subsequent thunder was almost lost in the furious crying\nof sea and wind. Great as was the hate of Enistor to enable him to face\nsuch forces, greater was the love which strengthened Alice to attempt\nsuch a task of high endeavour.\n\nAlice led her father down to the very verge of the cliffs, and halted\nthere a stone's-throw from the coastguard station. Lurking in the\nbackground, the Squire strained his eyes to see her, and did see her, a\nmomentarily clear silhouette against the pale illumination of the\nhorizon, where the moonlight struggled to assert itself. Then a big\nblack cloud drove ponderously across the moon, and when it passed, Alice\nwas no longer to be seen. In some way she had descended the cliffs, and\na cold feeling of fear lest she should fall and be dashed to pieces\ngripped Enistor's heart, rather to his surprise. He had never thought\nthat he possessed sufficient love for Alice to make him wince in this\nway. But the love was evidently latent in him, and sent the man\npell-mell towards the lip of the land to stay the girl from her rash\nadventure.\n\nBending over to look into the seething hell of water below, which\nbubbled and boiled like a witches' cauldron, Enistor caught sight, in\nthe fitful moonlight, of a tiny dark figure dropping down to some\nunknown destination. Alice was safe as yet in spite of the fury of wind\nand wave, and scrambled down a narrow track with the sure-footedness of\na goat. Not for nothing had she adventured her life in hazardous ways\nduring the past year, and now the nerve she had gained came in useful\nwhen her lover's neck was in danger. She did not think of her own at the\nmoment, but Enistor's heart was in his mouth, as the saying is, as he\nlay on his stomach peering down at the daring girl. Then a turn of the\npath below concealed the clambering figure from his eyes, and he debated\nwithin himself as to the best course to adopt. He was surprised to think\nthat Montrose was concealed so near to the coastguard station, and no\ngreat distance from Tremore itself. But in the very daring of selecting\nso dangerous a hiding-place lay its safety, as he soon came to\ncomprehend. But what Alice with her youth and lightness could do Enistor\ndid not dare to attempt. He decided to wait until she came up the cliff\nagain, and then he could force her to reveal the exact spot where\nMontrose lay hidden. Rolling into the shelter of a venturesome gorse\nbush which grew near the verge, he kept his eyes partly on the light of\nthe not far distant station and partly on the place where the girl had\ndescended. In this way he hoped to seize his daughter and to guard\nagainst being surprised by the Navy men, although these latter would be\nuseful at a pinch to arrest the fugitive, when Alice was forced to\nreveal the truth. So Enistor lay there and the rain beat upon him, the\nwind blew, and the thunder rolled overhead a challenge to the tumult of\nthe waves below.\n\nMeanwhile Alice, never suspecting that she had led her father to within\na stone's-throw of her lover's lurking-place, swung still further\ndownward from the point where Enistor had lost sight of her. Finally the\npath, which was a mere goat's track, excessively narrow and dangerous,\nterminated in a small jagged hole no very great distance up the cliff\nfrom the sands and rocks below. It was marked by bushes, and would have\npassed unnoticed even by an experienced climber. The girl had found it\nduring a day in spring, never thinking that it would ever be required\nfor the purpose for which it was now being used. Speedily thrusting\nherself into this rabbit-burrow, as it might be called, she scrambled on\nhands and knees along a narrow passage until she emerged into a\nfair-sized cave. There she saw Montrose ready to greet her with a candle\nin his hand, and this he soon put down to take her in his arms. \"My\ndarling! My darling! How brave you are!\"\n\n\"Oh, my dear! My dear! My dearest!\" She could only cling to him and kiss\nhim and feel that she had reached the heaven of his embrace. \"You are\ntrembling!\"\n\nMontrose lighted another candle from the stock she had brought and made\nher sit down on a block of stone fallen from the roof. \"No wonder I\ntremble when I think of you climbing down that terrible cliff. You must\nnot do it again. Do you hear? I would rather give myself up than expose\nyou to such a risk. You might fall and----\"\n\nAlice stopped his protestations with a kiss. \"I shall not fall. Again\nand again I have gone down that path out of a spirit of sheer adventure.\nShall I then not come when your life depends upon my coming?\"\n\n\"There never was such a woman as you are,\" cried Douglas brokenly, \"but\noh, my darling heart, how can you love me when I lurk here so\nshamefully?\"\n\n\"You are doing right. Dr. Eberstein said that you were to fly. When the\ntruth comes to light you can reappear.\"\n\n\"Will it ever come to light?\" questioned Montrose uneasily. \"Everything\nis dead against me. I must stay here for ever.\"\n\n\"You will not stay here for ever!\" said a quiet steady voice, and the\nlovers turned their heads with a start to see Eberstein standing some\nlittle distance away, calm, benevolent, and encouraging as he ever was.\n\nAlice cried out with natural terror at the sudden appearance of a\nman whom they supposed to be miles away, and Montrose, thrilled\nwith the deadly fear of the supernatural, could scarcely speak.\n\"How--how--did--you--come here?\" he gasped, holding Alice tightly to his\nbreast.\n\n\"In a way you know not,\" replied Eberstein, smiling so kindly as to\nstrengthen both. \"My true physical body is asleep in the hotel at\nPerchton. This I use now is one created for the moment, so that I may be\nseen and heard to speak by you both.\"\n\nBut for that reassuring smile and their knowledge of Eberstein's\ngoodwill the lovers would have been terrified out of their lives. \"But\nyou are--you are flesh and blood,\" stammered Alice nervously.\n\n\"In one way, yes: in another way, no. The knowledge of certain laws\nwhich has been entrusted to me enables me to materialise myself in this\nway.\" He advanced to place one hand on the girl's shoulder and the other\non that of Montrose. \"You can feel my touch, can you not?\"\n\n\"We can feel, hear and see,\" said Douglas, and his inclination was to\nkneel before his Master who manifested such power. All fear had departed\nnow both from himself and Alice. It was as if an angel had come to them.\n\n\"Kneel only to God,\" said Eberstein solemnly. \"It is His great mercy\nthat permits me to come to your aid. The moment is at hand which will\ndecide your future--the future of you both. Before you, Montrose, will\nbe placed good and evil: as you choose so shall it be.\"\n\n\"I shall choose the good,\" cried the young man impetuously.\n\n\"Be not over-confident, lest you fall,\" warned the Master gravely. \"One\nwhom you wronged in the past has you at his mercy.\"\n\n\"My father?\" questioned Alice, with a gasp.\n\nEberstein bowed his head. \"In Chaldea you killed him, Montrose, and\ntherefore you owe him a life for a life. Humanly speaking you are in his\npower for the moment, and he can hand you over to the officers of law.\"\n\n\"But I am innocent of the crime!\"\n\n\"Yes! And he knows that you are innocent. But the teaching of the son of\nperdition, whom you know as Narvaez, has warped his nature, and to gain\nthe money he claims he will place you, if he can, in the shadow of the\ngallows.\"\n\n\"He does not know where I am! He is----\"\n\n\"Peace!\" The Master raised his arm slowly. \"What will be, will be as\nlove or hate, fear or trust triumphs in your breast. Ascend the cliff,\nalone!\"\n\n\"Alone!\" Alice uttered a shriek. \"No! No! Let me go also.\"\n\n\"Ascend the cliff alone,\" repeated Eberstein calmly, \"and you, my\ndaughter, kneel here in prayer that good may triumph over evil. May the\nwill of God be fulfilled, and may the love of Christ\"--he made the sign\nof the cross--\"be with you in the hour of need, with the saving grace of\nthe Holy Ghost.\"\n\nWhere he had been there was but the gloom of the cave faintly\nilluminated by the candlelight. Motionless with awe the lovers clung to\none another, and Montrose, looking upward when movement came to him,\nbreathed a voiceless prayer. Then he bent to kiss Alice, who had sunk on\nher knees, and loosening his clasp moved slowly towards the entrance to\nthe cave. She did not seek to stay him, but with folded hands looked at\nhis retiring form--it might be for the last time. But as she looked the\nexaltation and awe of that solemn moment opened her interior senses, and\nshe saw a triangle of white flame, which showered on her lover's head\npurple rays of ineffable beauty. These shaped themselves into a cross as\nhe disappeared, and then drew inward to a star, radiant and glorious,\nwhich shone in the gloom as the symbol of hope and salvation. To that\nhigh splendour--to the Power beyond--to the Father and to the Son and\nto the Holy Ghost proceeding from the Father through the Son, did she\npray fervently. Not that her earthly parent might be spared the\ncommission of a crime, not that her lover might be saved, but that the\nholy purpose of God, unknown and inexplicable, might be fulfilled\naccording to His will. To such a height of trust in the Love which saves\nhad the ever-compassionate Mercy of The Christ raised this weak,\nfaltering, bruised soul.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nRIGHT IS MIGHT\n\n\nMontrose was so accustomed to obey his Master that he never questioned\nthe order to climb the cliff and leave Alice alone in the cave. Yet as\nhe straightened himself behind the bush which masked the entrance he\nwondered why such instructions had been given. Neither he nor the girl\nknew that Enistor watched for their coming, so the young man could only\nconjecture that Eberstein wished him to surrender to those officers of\nthe law who were hunting for him. This seemed strange in the face of the\ndoctor's telegram advising him to fly; but for want of knowledge\nMontrose was not in a state of mind to reconcile the apparent\ncontradiction. His sole idea was to do what he had been told to do, even\nthough--as seemed to be the case--he was risking loss of liberty and\nlife. And indeed, with regard to the last Montrose believed that he\nmight lose it otherwise than on the gallows.\n\nThe narrow, tortuous path sloped upward abruptly, with the cliff soaring\nhigh above it and the cliff dropping steeply below to unfathomable\ndepths. Fortunately the mighty wind, which roared inland from the sea,\nenabled him to cling the more surely to the rocky face of the precipice,\nand by slow degrees he crawled towards his goal overhead. In a less\ndegree than Alice was the young man accustomed to such perilous\nwayfaring, and only by persistent will-power did he manage to control\nhis nerves. What with the screaming of the tempest above and the\nbellowing of the waters below, he nearly lost his head. The tumult of\nsound, the stormy darkness only fitfully dispersed by gleams of\nmoonlight, his dangerous position midway between heaven and earth--these\nthings were enough to daunt the bravest man. But that he had been\nsupported by unseen powers, Montrose would never have succeeded in\nscaling that tremendous cliff. Yet he did so, painfully crawling upward\ninch by inch, shaken like a leaf in the grip of the wind and stunned by\nthe uproar of great waters. At length, after many hours--so it seemed to\nhim who had lost count of time--he reached the summit and cast himself\nbreathlessly on the wet herbage. Panting painfully, he sat up after a\npause, and then the lightning flaring in the dark sky showed him a tall\nfigure rushing towards him. And at the very moment of the onset the\nwinds swept clear the face of the moon to reveal in her waning light\nthat Enistor had found him at last.\n\n\"I have you now,\" shouted the Squire, stumbling towards his victim with\neager haste. \"You shall not escape.\"\n\nMontrose had no thought of escape and could not have saved himself even\nhad he been so inclined. He was wholly spent with that fearful climb and\nwas unable to cry out, much less shape his breath into speech. Yet with\nthe instinct of self-preservation--since he was dangerously near the\nverge of the precipice--he rolled blindly to one side as Enistor dashed\nheedlessly towards him. One moment he saw the big man reeling with\nextended hands to clutch and capture in the half-light; the next and\nhis enemy had disappeared over the cliff, crying hoarsely as he realised\nthat he had underestimated the distance. The cry was echoed by Montrose,\nwho nearly lost what few senses remained to him in the horror of the\nmoment. Then it flashed across his bewildered mind that Enistor was dead\nand that there was no chance of capture for the moment. Striving to\nregain his breath, to control his mind, to master his nerves, that\neffort was the insistent thought which governed his whole being. Utterly\nunmanned, he sobbed hysterically.\n\nBut the loss of self-control did not last long. By a powerful exercise\nof the will Montrose succeeded in gaining the mastery of his being and\non hands and knees crawled towards the edge of the cliff. He did not\nexpect to see Enistor, as in his impetuous rush the man must have hurled\nhimself directly into the thundering waves which broke far below in\nwhite and furious foam. In the moonlight, which radiated strongly for\nthe time being against the face of the sea-front, Montrose saw a dark\nbody half-way down. The Squire had fallen straightly for some distance,\nthen had cannoned off one rock to strike against another, and finally\ncame to rest on a projecting spur, where the senseless body remained,\nhanging helplessly above the boiling of the witches' cauldron below.\nClearly and distinctly Montrose saw the perilous position of his enemy:\nclearly and distinctly he knew that his enemy could be saved. It\nremained with him to allow Enistor to die terribly (since the man's\nfirst movement when he revived would precipitate him into the hell\nbeneath) or to descend and effect a rescue. How could he do so without\na rope and lacking assistance? The young man did not know, but what he\ndid know, and the thought burnt into his brain, was that Enistor could\nbe saved, or doomed. And the choice lay with him.\n\nThe temptation was almost overpowering. Only Enistor could depose to\nthat fatal visit to the cottage, and if such a proof was wanting\nMontrose knew positively that he could not even be accused, much less\narrested. He was aware of his innocence, yet Enistor, who hated him,\ncould prove him to be guilty, and hand him over to an unmerited death.\nThis the man would assuredly do, and Montrose winced to think how his\nname would be covered with ignominy and how greatly Alice would suffer.\nWhy should he save one who designed his disgrace; who desired his death?\nHe asked himself this question, and then asked it of God. No reply came\neither from himself or from the Unseen. He felt as though the guidance\nof the Higher Powers had been withdrawn, and that he was left to choose\nunbiased, uninstructed, completely free. Then he recollected how\nEberstein had said that both good and evil would be placed before him,\nand how swiftly he had declared he would select the good. His memory\nrecurred to the subsequent warning: \"Be not over-confident lest you\nfall.\" This was the time of choice, the crucial moment, which decided\nall. If he saved Enistor he saved the only witness who could bring about\nhis condemnation: if he did not rescue the man he would be free to marry\nAlice, to enjoy the money, and to lead a peaceful life. But could a\npeaceful life be built up upon a crime? for a crime it was to allow his\nenemy to perish. No! Come what might, arrest, trial, condemnation, and\nshameful death, it was impossible to hesitate longer. Enistor must be\nrescued and he must be the man to do the deed. In a frenzy of eagerness,\nand in deadly fear lest the evil should overpower the good, Montrose\nsprang to his feet and hurried impetuously towards the lights of the\ncoastguard station. There was not a moment to be lost, so he literally\nfell against the door and clamoured for admittance.\n\n\"What's the row? What's the row?\" asked a gruff voice, as the door\nopened violently and a coastguard appeared. \"You, sir!\" The man had seen\nhim before and recognised him in a moment. \"Have you come to give\nyourself up?\"\n\n\"Do what you like about that,\" gasped Montrose, clinging to the door, a\nwild figure ragged and streaming with water, \"only help me to save\nEnistor.\"\n\n\"The Squire! What's that about the Squire?\" and another coastguard laid\ndown his pipe to step hurriedly forward.\n\n\"He has fallen over the cliff.\"\n\n\"You threw him over!\" cried both men simultaneously.\n\n\"No! No! I swear I did not. But what does it matter? You can arrest me\nafterwards if you choose. Just now I want to save Enistor. His body is\nhanging halfway down. Get me a rope, a lantern; come and assist. I must\nsave him.\" And Montrose, feeling a new and powerful life move him to\naction, rushed into the darkness.\n\nThe startled coastguards followed, both to see what had happened and to\narrest the fugitive for whom the whole country-side was searching. But\ndiscipline prevailed in spite of their natural bewilderment, and they\ncame to the verge of the cliff when Montrose shouted, with lanterns and\na stout rope. The young man was lying on his stomach pointing downward\nto where the body was plainly seen in the moonlight. The coastguards\nrecoiled in dismay.\n\n\"Is that the Squire?\" cried one. \"Then he's dead for certain.\"\n\n\"No! Tie the rope round me. I shall descend,\" said Montrose feverishly.\n\n\"It's almost sure death, sir,\" declared the other man more respectfully,\nfor if the fugitive intended to descend upon such an errand of mercy it\nwas impossible that he could be guilty of the murder.\n\n\"Death or life, I'm going,\" retorted Montrose, and hastily bound the\nrope under his armpits, assisted by the two men, while he slung one of\nthe lanterns round his neck. \"Now! Pay out the rope!\" and he let himself\ndown gradually, clinging dexterously to the scanty herbage of the\nprecipice.\n\nLuckily the storm was dying away and the wind had rapidly swept the\ngreater part of the heavens clear of vapours. In the starry space above\nthe sealine the moon shone out more strongly than usual, so Montrose had\nample light to negotiate his downward course. The coastguards peered\nover the edge of the cliff, and twisted the rope round a convenient\nrock, measuring it out gradually. But hardened men as they were, they\nshivered as every now and then the daring adventurer swung clear, to\nhang like a spider at the end of the slender line, while the cruel\nrocks and hungry waters waited below for their prey.\n\nBut the Power that had supported Montrose before supported him now, and\nhe felt singularly clear-headed and strong. Slowly but surely he dropped\ndown the face of the precipice and finally alighted gently on the\nprojecting spur of rock. Very cautiously he looped a twist of the rope\nround Enistor's body, knotting it to himself, for the least mistake\nwould have tumbled both from the insecure foothold. As it was the spur\ntrembled and vibrated dangerously under the added weight of Montrose,\neven though he was greatly supported by the line. However he managed to\nbind the Squire's insensible body to himself, then gave the signal to be\ndrawn up. The coastguards made sure that the rope was safely attached to\nthe rock, and then, hoping that it would not give way under the strain,\nthey began to haul up the two men. With one arm round Enistor, who was\nbound more or less tightly to him by the rope, Montrose assisted as best\nhe could with the arm left free and with his feet. But it was a perilous\njourney, and the two men above, as well as Montrose, heaved sighs of\nrelief when willing hands dragged rescuer and rescued into safety.\nNotwithstanding the immense strain to which he had been subjected, the\nyoung man still felt able to deal with the situation. \"Have you any\nbrandy?\" he asked the nearest man, as the three of them looked down at\nthe insensible body.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" and a flask was handed over.\n\nMontrose knelt and forced the clenched teeth apart to pour down the\nardent spirit. The Squire still lived, for his heart was beating\nfaintly, but his face was woefully scratched, his head was bruised, and\nthe mackintosh he wore was ripped to shreds by the tearing and rending\nof the rocks and shrubs which he had struck during his fall. That he was\nalive was a miracle, and so the bluff coastguards thought as they held\nthe lanterns for Montrose to do his office of mercy. They respected the\nyoung hero intensely for what he had done, as few men would have dared\nthe perils of such a descent in the stormy gloom of the night. But they\ndid not know how truly heroic Montrose had been in saving the life of\none who could condemn him to a shameless death for a deed he had never\ncommitted. Montrose himself did not consider the action further, being\nwholly occupied in aiding Enistor to recover his senses. What he had\ndone he had done. There was no more to be said.\n\n\"Better?\" asked the young man softly, when Enistor feebly opened his\neyes to stare into the pale face bending over him.\n\n\"What's the--the matter?\" murmured the broken man faintly.\n\n\"You fell over the cliff. Hush, don't talk. Take some brandy: you will\nbe all right soon.\"\n\n\"No! I think--I think--my back--broken,\" the voice died away in a drawl\nof exhaustion and the eyes closed. With a last effort they opened again,\nand Enistor asked a question. \"Who saved me?\"\n\n\"I did!\"\n\n\"You!\" The voice expressed astonishment, disbelief, hatred, scorn; a\nwhole gamut of disordered passion, as some all-comprehending sixth sense\ntold Montrose. Then the sick man relapsed into insensibility.\n\n\"Help me to carry him to Tremore one of you,\" said Montrose, rising and\nlooking at the men, who were staring curiously at him in the mingled\nlight of the moon and the lanterns. \"The sooner a doctor sees him the\nbetter.\"\n\n\"I can take him along with my mate here, sir,\" said a coastguard\ngruffly; \"if you go you will be arrested for the murder of that old\nforeign cove.\"\n\n\"As I am innocent I don't mind being arrested. And if you two hand me\nover to the police I understand that a certain reward----\"\n\n\"Don't speak like that, sir,\" broke in the other man hastily; \"a\ngentleman what risked his life to save him as was hunting him down ain't\nno murderer.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Montrose thankfully and simply. \"All the same I am\ngoing to surrender. Meantime, we must take the Squire home.\"\n\nThe men stared and wondered, admiring Montrose more than ever, since he\nwas risking his liberty as he had risked his life to save the man who\nwas so bitter against him. One coastguard returned to the station, but\nMontrose and the other carried the body of Enistor on a hurdle--taken\nfrom a near sheepfold--to Tremore. They took a long time to cover the\ndistance across the dark misty moorland, and as they approached the\ngreat house Montrose little by little felt the artificial strength which\nhad sustained him so far ebbing away. He wondered why it was leaving\nhim: he wondered what would happen when the police took him: he wondered\nif Alice was still in the cave: and finally broke down altogether on the\nthreshold of the dark house. When the coastguard rang the bell and\nroused the servants he handed over two insensible men to be taken\nindoors. Like a blood horse Montrose had kept up the pace until he\nreached the goal, and then had fallen into as unconscious a state as\nthat of the man whom he had saved. But as his senses left him he\nglimpsed a glorious radiance round about him: he saw the smiling,\napproving face of his Master, and knew that a hand was raised in\nbenediction. And soundlessly the words of a Beatitude came to him as\nsoft and refreshing as summer rain. \"Blessed are the merciful: for they\nshall obtain mercy!\" After that gracious saying he knew no more.\n\nThen Montrose lost count of time. From the moment when he sank in the\ndarkness before the door of Tremore until the hour he woke in his own\nbed time had no existence. A screened lamp illuminated the room, the\nblinds were drawn, the door was closed, and a fire was burning in the\ngrate. He was clasping a tender hand, and his eyes opened to see the\nface of Alice bending over him with that motherly look which all women\ngive to men in time of sickness. It was certainly night, Montrose\nthought dreamily, and he probably had been carried to his bedroom a few\nminutes since. But how had Alice come so swiftly from the cave? Was this\nanother miracle in this life of miracles?\n\n\"Did you come after us?\" he asked weakly.\n\nThe girl uttered a cry as his lips moved and thankful tears fell on his\npale face. \"Douglas! do you know me?\"\n\n\"Alice! Yes, I know. Alice! I am all right.\" He strove to rise, but fell\nback.\n\n\"You are weak still,\" said the girl, arranging his pillow, \"don't\nattempt too much, dearest. Take this,\" and a strengthening drink was\nheld to his lips.\n\n\"But I must see what is happening,\" muttered Montrose impatiently, his\nbrain becoming gradually clearer. \"Your father lies insensible at the\ndoor with that coastguard in charge.\"\n\n\"Father is in bed and the coastguard is gone, Douglas. It was last night\nyou came here.\"\n\n\"Last night! Impossible! It is night still.\"\n\n\"My dear one, you have slept for twenty-four hours. The doctor said it\nwas the best thing that could happen after the strain you have\nundergone. You will soon grow strong. I am your nurse and have been\nwatching you for hours and hours. Now,\" Alice rose and moved towards the\nfire, \"you shall have some soup.\"\n\n\"I do feel tremendously hungry,\" admitted the patient; \"and your\nfather?\"\n\n\"Hush!\" Alice's face grew sad. \"You must not talk. Shortly you shall\nknow all that has taken place. Drink the soup and then try to sleep.\"\n\nMontrose wilfully argued and objected, but the girl was firm. Finally he\nfinished the bowl of broth and closed his eyes again. When he was quite\nasleep Alice left the housekeeper to watch beside him through the night\nand retired to her own room for a much-needed rest. Anxious as she was\nabout many matters both with regard to her lover and her father,\nweariness, mental and physical, demanded its due and she slept soundly\nuntil ten o'clock the next morning. Her first waking thought was for her\nfather, and after she had learned his present condition she sought the\nsick-room of her lover. But Montrose was no longer sick. He was up and\ndressed, with a healthy colour in his cheeks and very bright eyes, ready\nfor his breakfast and anxious to learn what had taken place during his\ninsensible condition. Even the thought that he might be arrested on that\nvery day did not daunt him. Knowing his innocence, and aware that he had\nconquered selfish fear to the extent of saving the life of the sole\nwitness who could condemn him, he felt convinced that in some way--he\ndid not know how--things would be made smooth. Therefore he went down to\nthe dining-room with Alice and, after making a good meal, he accompanied\nher to her very own sitting-room to hear explanations.\n\n\"Your father is in danger of death, you say?\" he asked, when they were\nseated.\n\n\"Yes, Douglas. The fall hurt his spine and the doctor does not think\nthat he will recover. However, he is sensible enough and can talk.\"\n\n\"What does he say?\" asked Montrose nervously.\n\n\"Scarcely a word. And that is why I am so anxious to hear from you all\nthat took place after you left the cave. Both the coastguards told me\nmuch; but you can tell me more. In the first place, where did you meet\nmy father?\"\n\n\"In the first place,\" said Montrose, asking a counter-question, \"am I to\nbe arrested for murdering Narvaez?\"\n\n\"No! While you have been asleep wonderful discoveries have been made and\nyour character has been entirely cleared. It was Job Trevel who broke\nDon Pablo's neck.\"\n\n\"Job? But his mother said that he went out fishing some hours before the\ndeath!\" said the young man, startled and puzzled by the revelation.\n\n\"So his mother truly thought. Job did go down to take his boat out, but\njealousy of Rose brought him back to Polwellin. He suspected that she\nintended to see Don Pablo, and when he found she had gone out he\nfollowed her to the cottage on chance. Rose was there after you left and\nDon Pablo came out with her to the gate. Then Job, crazy with anger,\nsprang on him and--you know the rest.\"\n\n\"I don't know how Job escaped, or why Rose held her tongue when I was in\ndanger of arrest for what I did not do!\"\n\n\"Rose ran home terribly afraid lest she should be accused of having had\nsomething to do with the murder, and took to her bed intending to be\nsilent out of selfish fear. Job returned to his boat and went away. He\nhas not yet returned, and I don't think he ever will.\"\n\n\"But how was this found out?\"\n\n\"The doctor who attended Rose became suspicious of something she said\nwhen half delirious. He told the Perchton Inspector, who saw Rose and\nforced her to reveal the truth. Now the police are hunting for Job, and\nyou are entirely exonerated, although you will no doubt be called upon\nto state the hour when you left Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"Thank God for his mercies,\" said Montrose devoutly. \"It is a most\namazing thing, Alice. And to think that last night I nearly decided to\nlet your father die, since he alone would witness against me.\"\n\n\"I expect that was the test that Dr. Eberstein spoke of, Douglas. I\ndon't know how my father came to be on the spot unless he followed me by\nstealth when I came to see you at the cave.\"\n\nMontrose nodded. \"No doubt your father suspected you and followed as you\nsay, dear. The moment I reached the top of the cliff, he rushed at me,\nbut making a mistake about the distance in the gloom, he hurled himself\nover the precipice. I saw that his body was lying half way down, and it\nwas in my mind to leave him there. Oh! what a struggle I had,\" cried the\nyoung man passionately, \"only Christ's love could have nerved me to save\nthe man.\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes!\" Alice fondled his hand. \"The descent was very dangerous.\"\n\n\"It is not that I was thinking about. That was nothing. But my doubts,\nmy hesitation: my desire to save my own life at the cost of his. I\nwonder my hair has not turned grey. And to think that all the time\nthings were coming to a point which would proclaim my innocence. Had I\nlet your father die I should have committed a purposeless crime. But\nthanks be to Christ the All-Loving and All-Powerful, I did as I would be\ndone by, and gave my enemy his life. What a moment of anguish it was:\nwhat a bitter, bitter moment,\" and the young man wiped the perspiration\nfrom his brow.\n\nAlice drew his head down on her breast and murmured over him as a mother\nmurmurs over a child. And Montrose really was a child at the moment as\nwhat he had passed through shook him still to the core of his being.\n\"It's all right now, dear; it's all right now,\" she urged gently. \"You\nhave conquered your greatest enemy.\"\n\n\"Your father?\"\n\n\"No, dear, yourself. And perhaps my father also. He does not seem to be\nso bitter against you as he was. Twice he smiled when your name was\nmentioned.\"\n\n\"Then he has recovered?\"\n\n\"He will never recover,\" said the girl sadly. \"The doctor says that his\nspine is injured.\"\n\n\"Poor man!\" cried Douglas generously, \"can I not see him?\"\n\n\"Not at present. The doctor says he is to be kept quiet just now.\" Alice\nburst into distressful tears. \"Heaven only knows that I have little\nreason to love my father; but it is heart-rending to see him lying\nthere, broken down and helpless, with no future save a painful death.\"\n\nThis time it was her lover's turn to soothe and console. Drawing the\nsobbing girl closer to his heart, he said what he could. \"Death is the\ngate of Life, we are told, dear.\"\n\nAlice made no reply. The phrase did not tend to disperse her grief,\nwhich was rather that of pity than of love, although the two are so much\nakin that the one can scarcely be distinguished from the other. Montrose\nwisely said no more, thinking truly that silence was more comforting\nthan words, and they both remained silent for some minutes. A knock at\nthe door parted them, and Alice dried her tears to receive a card from\nthe incoming servant. At once her sad face lighted up with pleasure and\nhope.\n\n\"Oh, Douglas, Dr. Eberstein has come,\" she exclaimed joyfully. \"Bring\nthe gentleman here at once, at once!\" And when the servant had departed\nthe girl turned to her lover with an air of relief. \"The doctor will put\neverything right. I feel certain of that.\"\n\n\"So do I,\" replied Douglas confidently. \"He may even cure your father.\"\n\nEberstein was shown in at this moment, and when the door was closed, he\nwalked over to Montrose with a glad smile to place his two hands on the\nyoung man's shoulders. \"You have conquered, my son. As a true follower\nof the Blessed One you have forgiven your enemy in the face of\noverwhelming temptation to act otherwise.\"\n\n\"Then Mr. Enistor truly was my enemy?\" asked Montrose hurriedly.\n\n\"Life after life he has been your enemy. Remember the vision which you\nsaw in London, and the wounded man who came between you and the girl you\nlove.\"\n\n\"Enistor!\"\n\nEberstein bowed his head. \"He was then a priest of the Star-Angel, Mars,\nin Chaldea. Alice was a vestal and you a noble who loved her. I warned\nyou then not to pluck the fruit before it was ripe, but you would, and\nin carrying away the girl you murdered Enistor. This is the sin which\nhas parted you and Alice for many ages. Now the debt is paid; for the\nlife you destroyed you have given a life in saving your enemy. The\nshadow has vanished, and now,\" Eberstein placed the hand of Alice in\nthat of Montrose, \"now you are one once more. In union lies strength,\ntherefore let the sorrows you have passed through bind you truly\ntogether for service to God.\"\n\n\"How wonderful! How wonderful!\" gasped Alice, holding tightly to her\nlover as if she feared to lose him again. \"Will there be no more\ntrouble?\"\n\n\"The troubles which all undergo when dwelling in the flesh. But these,\nin many cases, you will be able to avert, since you have much light and\nmore will be given. But the dark Karma of Chaldea has been dispersed for\never. Thank God, my children, that you have been so wonderfully guided\nthrough the mists of error into the clear day of truth.\"\n\n\"We do thank Him,\" said Douglas reverently, \"and you for so guiding us.\"\n\n\"I am but the instrument used for God's high purpose,\" said Eberstein,\nwith a solemn look, \"and I thank Him that I have been so honoured. Now\nyou both must do as you have been done by, and aid in the salvation of\nKorah Enistor.\"\n\n\"My father! How can we do that?\" inquired Alice anxiously.\n\n\"We must wait for the arrival of that Son of Perdition who wishes to\nkeep that most unhappy soul in bondage. Then will Love and Hate battle\nfor the prize. The result depends upon that soul's choice.\"\n\n\"But Narvaez is dead,\" said Montrose, puzzled.\n\n\"Narvaez is more alive than ever in the body of Julian Hardwick.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" Alice recognised the truth of this astounding statement at once.\n\"I knew Julian was different: that he was evil instead of good.\"\n\n\"You sensed Narvaez' black soul in Hardwick's body,\" said Eberstein\nsimply. \"Be strong, be ready; for the hour of strife is at hand.\"\n\n\"Let us pray!\" cried Alice fervently, and the two did pray with full\nhearts, while the Master strengthened the selfless petition.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE ETERNAL STRIFE\n\n\nFor three days Enistor lingered on, fighting inch by inch for his life\nwith obstinate courage. The doctor told him that there was no hope, but\nhe declined to believe in such croakings. With all his pride and all his\nwill he resisted the coming dissolution of his body, and therefore lived\nmuch longer than would have been the case had he been of a less resolute\nnature. Night and day Alice and the housekeeper nursed him by turns, and\nhe seemed grateful for their attentions, although he said very little to\neither. Montrose wished to see the dying man and assure him of\nforgiveness, but Enistor declined an interview. Narvaez-Hardwick also\ncalled with feigned expressions of regret, but was forced to depart\nwithout seeing the man his wickedness had brought so low. As to Dr.\nEberstein, he took lodgings in the village, so as to be at hand at the\nlast moment, and waited patiently for a summons to the bedside.\n\n\"It will come,\" he assured Montrose. \"It will surely come, since the\nlast act of this terrible drama has to be played by all who have taken\npart in it, with the exception of Hardwick, who has done his share and\npassed over. But you and Alice and Narvaez and I have to face Enistor.\"\n\n\"For what purpose?\"\n\nThe doctor answered rather irrelevantly. \"The extension of Enistor's\nlife beyond what is natural, considering his injuries, is not permitted\nwithout a good reason. The poor creature is taking part in a tremendous\nstruggle between the little good he has in him, and the enormous\nquantity of evil which, through ignorance, he has accumulated in this\nand other lives. I am trying constantly to increase that good, while\nNarvaez is putting forth all his wicked power to strengthen the evil.\"\n\n\"Who will win, you or Narvaez?\" asked Montrose abruptly.\n\n\"Only God knows the issue of the conflict, my son, since Enistor, having\nfree-will, can choose either the good or the bad, the Left-hand Path or\nthe Right-hand Path. You were given the same choice in another way, but\nwith you the Power of Love prevailed. Whether it will prevail with this\nmiserable man depends upon himself.\"\n\n\"But cannot you tell, Master? You know so much.\"\n\n\"I know much, but I do not know all. God alone is omniscient. Did not\none of your poets say: 'We mortal millions live alone'? That is a great\ntruth greatly put. Each soul must find God for itself through Christ by\nthe power of the Holy Ghost. It can be helped and instructed by those\nwho, like myself, are humble servants of the Most High, but the soul\nalone can choose whether to rise or fall. I tell you, Montrose, much as\nEnistor suffers physically, he is infinitely more tormented mentally.\nNight and day, and day and night, the strife continues between evil and\ngood, in which Narvaez and I take part. Only Enistor can elect which\nside will win.\"\n\n\"Can I not help?\" asked the young man, distressed at the terrible plight\nof his whilom enemy.\n\n\"You have helped--helped greatly. Enistor is constantly trying to\nunderstand why you saved him, when he could have, and would have,\ncondemned you to a shameful and unmerited death. It is well nigh\nimpossible for him to grasp such self-abnegation, but the positive fact\nthat you acted as you did is the spar to which he clings, and which\nprevents him from sinking in the troubled waters of evil desires which\nNarvaez is bringing up against him.\"\n\n\"Why don't you smash Narvaez?\"\n\n\"That would be against the law of justice. Narvaez has his rights, as\nevery one else has. If he chooses to abuse those rights he will bring\ndestruction on himself, as he is surely doing. Hate only ceases by love,\nso all that I can do is to offer Narvaez the assistance which he refuses\nto take. With my greater powers, poured through me for selfless ends by\nthe God of All, I could use force and render him harmless. But such\nforce would mean employment of the power of Hate. The influence is\nalways the same in its essence, but becomes good or evil as we employ\nit.\"\n\n\"Still, if you ended Don Pablo's wickedness, Enistor would be saved.\"\n\n\"I cannot tell. But he cannot be saved at the cost of injustice to\nNarvaez, my son. By his own acts in this life and others he has placed\nhimself in the power of Narvaez, and must abide by his choice.\"\n\n\"Still he may want to escape?\"\n\n\"If so, and I truly hope that such will be the case, he has only to open\nhis heart to the incoming of Christ, and the Mighty Power of the\nBlessed One will sweep away Narvaez like a straw. Love is stronger than\nevil, and must prevail when election is made to use it. Now go, my son,\nfor even now the Son of Perdition is putting forth his strength to\noverwhelm the soul, and I must withstand him. Pray constantly, my child,\nand tell Alice to pray; for the fight is desperately bitter.\"\n\nWithout a word Montrose departed, leaving Eberstein to wrestle with the\nPowers of Darkness. Seeking Alice, he brought her to the altar of the\nparish church, and there they remained kneeling for many hours. It was\nwell that they fled for refuge to the tabernacle of God, for within all\nwas light, and the Dark Powers halted at the door, helpless, fierce and\nfurious, and--baffled.\n\nDuring those days of the struggle Montrose's worldly position had been\nmade secure. The confession of Rose, who had seen Narvaez murdered,\nproved beyond all doubt that Job Trevel was the culprit. That man never\nreturned now or thereafter, and it could only be conjectured that he had\nbeen lost at sea in the storm which took place when the crime was\ncommitted. But Montrose was fully exonerated, and in their rough way the\nvillagers of Polwellin apologised for their wrongful suspicions. He more\nthan regained the place he had lost in their affections, for the\ncoastguards had told everywhere how the Squire had been rescued and at\nwhat a cost. That Enistor should have been saved at all was a matter of\nregret to his tenants, who detested him for his many acts of oppression.\nThroughout the village there was not heard one pitying word for the man\nnow at the point of death, so doubtless this feeling of ill-will also\ntormented Enistor in his then sensitive state. But as the man had sown,\nso the man had to reap, and by his own acts he was condemned to a\npunishment which went far to excuse his wickedness.\n\nIn reply to Alice's telegram Mrs. Barrast came down to see the last of\nher brother and was desperately annoyed to find--as she thought--that he\nhad completely recovered. Of course for his own ends Narvaez-Hardwick\nplayed the part of a grateful brother, and to get rid of the little\nwoman he gave her a handsome cheque out of the property he had acquired.\nThat the same had merely been transferred from Narvaez to Narvaez was a\nfact not known to Mrs. Barrast, who quite believed--and very\nnaturally--that Julian had been cured in some miraculous way of his\nillness by the Perchton doctor. What that gentleman himself thought no\none ever knew, as he held his tongue very wisely, through sheer\ninability to explain matters. But his practice benefited greatly, and he\nmade full use of his enhanced reputation. Mrs. Barrast thanked him for\nthe wonder he had wrought, said that she would mention his skill to her\nfriends and send them to Perchton for treatment. Then she went across\nthe Channel with Frederick to spend the handsome cheque in Paris and did\nnot trouble any further about her brother. Which was just what the\nindividual masquerading in that brother's body desired. Hardwick's\nsister was such a trifling little butterfly that it was not worth while\nbreaking her on a wheel. Even if, out of sheer malicious amusement, the\nmagician had wished to do so, he had no time. All his energies were\ntaken up in fighting the strong power of Eberstein for the soul of his\nescaping slave. The adversaries came to grips on the night of the fourth\nday after Montrose had wiped out his sin by the rescue of his enemy.\n\nAfter dinner on that evening, Alice and her lover were waiting in the\nlibrary, feeling sorrowful and depressed. The young man was seated in an\narm-chair before the fire and Alice, on the hearth-rug, inclined her\ndark head against his knees. Having watched throughout the previous\nnight by the bedside, she had slept all day, and now was giving her\nwhole attention to Douglas before returning to her new vigil in the\nsick-room. Neither of the two was speaking, as the shadow of evil lay\nthicker and blacker than ever on the house, and there was a feeling\nstill more terrible in the air. Montrose felt little of such things,\ncased as he was in less sensitive flesh; but Alice was alive to battling\nforces, invisible and menacing, which thrilled her soul with agony and\nhelpless grief.\n\n\"Death is here,\" she said at length, without removing her gaze from the\nburning logs, and Montrose knew enough of her clairvoyant powers not to\nexclaim at the weird remark.\n\n\"Do you think he will die to-night?\" he asked, looking nervously round\nthe brilliantly lighted room.\n\n\"I think so. Something dreadful is coming nearer and nearer. Very cold,\nvery powerful, yet very merciful.\"\n\nMontrose shuddered and recalled a play by Maeterlinck which he had read\nsome years back. The atmosphere of the library was exactly that\nsuggested by \"L'Intruse,\" and he felt, as did the characters in that\nwonderful piece of writing, that the being with the scythe was about to\nenter the door. When a sharp knock came, his shaken nerves extorted a\nstart and a cry. But it was only the housekeeper who came to announce\nthat she wanted Alice to take up the watch by Enistor's bedside and also\nto tell both the young people that two gentlemen had arrived\nsimultaneously at Tremore.\n\n\"Mr. Hardwick and Dr. Eberstein,\" said the housekeeper.\n\n\"Tell them to come in,\" replied Alice quietly, in marked contrast to her\nlover, who started to his feet much perturbed.\n\n\"Why do they come together?\" he asked uneasily. \"They have never met\nbefore to my knowledge.\"\n\n\"It is the beginning of the end, Douglas!\"\n\n\"They then bring death with them?\"\n\n\"Se\u00f1or Narvaez brings death and Dr. Eberstein brings life,\" said Alice,\nstill in the unemotional tone which she had used throughout. \"But not in\na physical way, you understand. Hush! Here they are.\"\n\nThe two men entered quietly: Narvaez, splendid and strong in the beauty\nof his stolen body, and Eberstein, elderly, grey-haired, and\nweary-looking. But Alice, looking through the masks of flesh, saw that\nthey lied. Eberstein was the ever-young, glorious soul, radiant with\nimmortal life, and Narvaez but a black evil shadow, distorted and\nvenomous. Outwardly the magician resembled Milton's fallen archangel,\nmagnificently sinful, while the doctor, like his Great Master the Man of\nSorrows, seemed to bear the burden of other people's sins. Here indeed\nwere the representatives of the eternal strife, the types of Heaven and\nHell, bearing the cross and the wine-cup. And the world-battle on a\nsmaller scale was about to be fought out between them. As Alice greeted\nthe one and the other, the housekeeper turned at the door to speak.\n\n\"The Squire knows that Dr. Eberstein and Mr. Hardwick have come, miss,\nas I told him. He would like to see them along with you and Mr.\nMontrose. But I don't think it is wise, miss.\"\n\n\"You can go,\" said the girl quietly, and the housekeeper departed,\ngrumbling at the risk of visitors to the sick man. \"Shall we see my\nfather now?\"\n\nShe addressed Eberstein, who bowed, for the situation was too tense for\nthe use of many words. But Narvaez spoke with an insolent smile. \"I hope\nMr. Enistor will not be the worse for my coming.\"\n\n\"I think he will be very much the worse, Don Pablo.\"\n\n\"I am your dear friend, Julian Hardwick,\" sneered the magician.\n\n\"I know better.\"\n\n\"Clever girl. But you do not know all,\" he taunted.\n\n\"Enough to be aware that you are an evil man, exercising more than human\npower. Also Dr. Eberstein has recalled to my recollection what I saw\nduring the trance. I know who you are, Se\u00f1or Narvaez, and what you are.\nWith me you cannot masquerade as an angel of light.\"\n\n\"I leave that r\u00f4le to our friend here,\" scoffed the other with a shrug.\n\nEberstein did not take the slightest notice. With Narvaez he was very\nwatchful, but intensely quiet: always on his guard, but never offering\nthe fuel of words to kindle useless argument. And time being precious at\nthe moment, he softly intimated to Alice that it would be as well to\nseek the bedroom immediately. Without objection the girl led the way,\nand shortly the whole party were in the presence of the Squire.\n\nEnistor lay in bed, propped up with many pillows. Other than a shaded\nlamp on a small table beside him, there was no illumination save the\ncrimson glimmer of the fire, so that the room was filled with a kind of\nartificial twilight, sinister and eerie. It was a large apartment\nfurnished in that heavy cumbersome style prevalent during the first half\nof the last century, eminently comfortable but markedly inartistic. The\ngreen rep curtains of the bed were looped back to show the white\nsuffering face and sunken eyes of the sick man, on whom the gaze of the\nquartette was centred. The silence was intense; as the rain had ceased,\nthe wind had died away, and only the heavy breathing of those present,\nor the fall of a burning coal, broke the stillness. This calm before the\nstorm suggested itself to Alice as much more terrible than the storm\nitself could possibly be. It seemed as though the whole of creation\nwaited anxiously to hear what choice the dying man would make between\nevil and good. The words came slowly from him, as he fixed his weary\neyes on Montrose with wondering inquiry.\n\n\"Why did you save my life?\" he asked.\n\n\"I was sorry for you.\"\n\n\"Sorry for one who intended to have you hanged for a crime you did not\ncommit. Impossible!\"\n\n\"That I saved you showed it was not impossible. I had a struggle: oh,\nyes, I had a great struggle. Not knowing that my character would be\ncleared, I nearly decided to let you perish lest you should condemn me.\nBut I could not: I could not.\"\n\n\"Why?\" demanded Enistor insistently. \"Why? Why?\"\n\nMontrose pressed his hands tightly together to control his emotions.\n\"How can I explain? Something higher than my ordinary self acted for\nme.\"\n\n\"The Christ, Who is building Himself up within you, spoke,\" said\nEberstein gravely.\n\n\"Weakness spoke,\" struck in the magician. \"The weakness of a coward who\nwas afraid to remove an obstacle from his path.\"\n\n\"Montrose did remove an obstacle,\" said the doctor, addressing\nNarvaez-Hardwick for the first time. \"One which was blocking his upward\npath.\"\n\n\"His murder of me in Chaldea?\" questioned Enistor, after a pause.\n\n\"Yes! He owed you a life. Only by giving back in another way what he had\nrobbed you of could he learn his lesson and cleanse his soul.\"\n\n\"Where is the life that has been given?\" sneered Narvaez-Hardwick.\n\"There is Enistor dying. A valuable gift indeed.\"\n\n\"Montrose did not know that Enistor was fatally injured by his fall. So\nfar as he was aware he gave back what he had taken and at the risk of\nlosing his present life unjustly. The sheet is clean.\"\n\n\"Sophistry! Sophistry! You are trying to make black white.\"\n\n\"Not so. Man is judged by his intention in whatever he does. Thought\nprecedes both words and acts, so if the first be right the two last\ncannot be wrong.\"\n\n\"We are here to listen to a sermon, it appears,\" said the other man\nmockingly. \"You are woefully dull.\"\n\nEberstein ignored the spiteful speech to advance towards the bed.\n\"Enistor, you are about to pass away from the physical plane to reap as\nyou have sown, and painful will be the harvesting of your sheaves.\"\n\n\"Tares he should call them,\" mocked Narvaez-Hardwick contemptuously.\n\n\"Not all tares. Always the germs of good have been in your victim.\"\n\n\"A victim! I?\" cried the Squire, pride and indignation lighting up his\nfaded eyes, to the delight of his dark master, who approved of the\nsinister quality.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Eberstein steadily. \"Age after age, life after life, you\nhave been the victim, the slave, the tool of this man, who is stronger\nthan you are. By taking his gifts, you have submitted yourself to his\nwill. Break your chain, Enistor: now, at this very moment, assert your\nfreedom as a son of God, owing allegiance only to that Power of Love\nwhich is co-extensive with creation.\"\n\n\"And by so doing you render yourself the servant of all,\" said\nNarvaez-Hardwick vehemently. \"Whatever you gain you must use for the\nbenefit of others and not for yourself. Think of it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" came the quiet voice of the White Master. \"Think of it, and think\nof how the powers you gain through evil are used for the benefit of your\ndark tyrant. He does not even give you gratitude.\"\n\n\"I give more than gratitude: my gifts are more substantial. Virtue is\nnot its own reward in my service. Service indeed. And who has done\nservice? I ask you, Enistor. Did I not scheme to place this young fool\nin your power, and did I not do so? You failed to use the golden moment\nproperly and crush him, or you would by now have been wealthy, by\nregaining your lost property, and he would have been waiting his trial\nin prison. Have I not rendered you a great service? Do I not deserve\ngratitude in return?\"\n\n\"Gratitude for ruining me,\" said Enistor, wincing at the fiery glances\ncast upon him. \"You ask too much. You have plotted and planned, it is\ntrue, but your schemes have been brought to naught.\"\n\n\"By you,\" said Narvaez-Hardwick scornfully, \"since you failed to grasp\nthe prize I placed within your reach.\"\n\n\"It was Douglas who conquered,\" said Alice suddenly. \"He chose the good\ninstead of the evil, and hate was overcome by love. Father,\" she moved\nforward swiftly to kneel beside the bed, \"you have no bitterness against\nDouglas now: you cannot have since he has saved your life.\"\n\n\"For the moment,\" scoffed the magician, \"a pretty saving truly.\"\n\n\"I have had a terrible time since regaining my senses,\" said the Squire\nfeebly. \"All my old life has been broken up, and I am beginning to see\nthings in a new light. Love is stronger than Hate, I admit that, since\nMontrose acted so unselfishly as he did. Douglas,\" he held out a\ntrembling hand, which the young man gladly took, \"I thank you for what\nyou have done, and I ask you to forgive me.\"\n\n\"Willingly! Willingly,\" said Montrose, with fervour. \"If we had only\nunderstood one another better, you would not now be dying.\"\n\n\"There is no question of dying,\" cried Narvaez-Hardwick, furious to see\nhow his empire was slipping from his grasp. \"Don't hearken to this weak\nbabble, Enistor. Listen, I can cure you: I can make you as well as ever\nyou were.\"\n\nThe girl and her lover started up with incredulous looks and Enistor\ngasped in amazement. \"Can he do this?\" he demanded, looking at\nEberstein.\n\n\"Yes,\" assented the other calmly. \"His knowledge is great, even though\nit is wrongly used.\"\n\n\"Wrongly used to cure the sick? Ha! What of your Master who saved the\nlives of those past human aid?\"\n\n\"He saved through the power of love, and left those He saved free. You\nwould use that same power after your own evil fashion, changing its good\ninto bad, so that you can bind Enistor the more closely to you as a\nslave.\"\n\n\"Slave! Slave! What parrot repetition. Always slave: victim: tool! Lies,\nI tell you, Enistor, lies. You are my friend. If I did make you suffer,\nit was to test your strength, so that you might become strong enough to\nhandle those great powers which I use. I can make you omnipotent as I am\nmyself.\"\n\n\"Omnipotent,\" echoed the Squire doubtfully. \"How can that be when you\nwere struck down in your moment of triumph?\"\n\n\"I was taken by surprise,\" said Narvaez-Hardwick sullenly. \"Had I been\non my guard I could have held my own.\"\n\n\"I think not,\" observed the doctor gently; then addressing Enistor\ndirectly, with marked emphasis: \"My son, creation is sustained by love,\nand where love is not, destruction must needs come. By pandering to\nself, this man has acquired a small empire, which he has cut off from\nthe great one of God. His force is only that little which he has gained\nand which he is strong enough to hold. But my force,\" Eberstein stood up\nvery straightly, \"is the force of the whole, which is necessarily\ngreater than the force of the part acquired by Narvaez. Through me, as\nthrough all who strive to work selflessly, the mighty power of love is\npoured, for the benefit of those who need aid. Only this can give you\npower, and will you consent to be a slave in the petty kingdom of this\nman, which will be destroyed when his measure is full?\"\n\n\"It will never be destroyed,\" cried the magician, hatefully proud. \"For\ncenturies I have endured alone, defying all.\"\n\n\"You seek isolation, and isolation you shall have,\" said Eberstein\nsadly. \"Life after life you are building thicker and thicker the\nprison-house which shuts you in from the source of all life. Oh, my\nBrother, have we not pleaded with you again and again to repent, and\nturn to Him who alone sustains the worlds, and you will not, in your mad\npride of self. Rapidly and surely you are descending into the Abyss, and\nwould drag this man with you. But so great is the Love of Christ, who\ndied for you and for all, that He will forgive you even at the eleventh\nhour, as He forgives this poor mortal.\"\n\n\"I haven't asked for forgiveness!\" growled Enistor savagely.\n\n\"No. Don't be so weak,\" said Narvaez-Hardwick eagerly. \"Eberstein talks\nrubbish. If you turn to his foolish ways will he save your life?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the doctor with decision. \"Enistor must pass on to exhaust\nthe evil that he has made by suffering. But in that necessary suffering\nhe will be supported and aided by Him who suffered Himself.\"\n\n\"There,\" the magician turned triumphantly towards Enistor, \"you see that\nhe can only promise pain. A nice bribe for you to turn into a silly\nsaint, isn't it, my friend? Now I\"--the man's voice became dangerously\npersuasive and bland--\"I can make you whole again by curing your hurt\nand renewing your vital powers. You have heard Eberstein admit that I\ncan do so. Then, since you have stood the tests of inflicted pain, which\nwere necessary, I can now instruct you in the higher magic, which will\ngive you power over men. Also I can make you rich. Let this money of\nyour sister's remain with Montrose and let him marry your daughter and\npass out of your life. You and I, my dear friend, will go to Spain, and\nthere you shall share in my greatness. Together we shall sway this\ngeneration, making and unmaking men and nations.\"\n\n\"Don't listen to him: don't listen to him,\" implored Alice, putting her\narms round her father's neck. \"Remember how cruel he has been to you:\nremember how he was struck down by God: remember how his schemes have\nfailed. He is a liar, like his Father the Devil.\"\n\n\"There is no devil but what man makes for himself,\" sneered\nNarvaez-Hardwick. \"But we will let that pass. You have heard, Enistor.\nEberstein offers you death in this world and pain in the next----\"\n\n\"Through which you will pass to a wider and more glorious life, when the\npast has been expiated,\" said the doctor swiftly.\n\n\"While I,\" went on the magician, paying no heed to the interruption,\n\"can give you a long physical life with power and wealth, and ease and\nknowledge. Also in the next world I have my empire and you shall share\nit when we pass over this time, to return more powerful when we next\nincarnate. Choose! Choose!\"\n\n\"Aye, choose,\" said Eberstein solemnly. \"The Path of Pleasure, which\nleads to destruction, or the Path of Pain, which ends in the radiant\nlight of the Godhead. The narrow way: the broad way: the Way of the\nCross, or the Way of the Wine-cup in which the serpent of self lurks.\"\n\nOn one side of the bed stood the Dark Master, on the other stood the\nWhite Master, and between, prone with anguish, lay the body which\ncontained the soul for which the opposing forces of good and evil\nstruggled. Alice clung to her father and Montrose knelt prayerfully by\nthe bed. The room was charged with battling powers, but in that dread\nmoment of choice the influence of both stood aloof from the soul, which\nhad to make its choice by what knowledge it had garnered painfully\nthrough many incarnations. Enistor felt suddenly feeble, felt that he\nwas in a dense gloom, pricked here and there with wan lights, which\nrepresented all the good he had gained: and great indeed was the\nblackness of evil. Of himself he could do nothing, yet he knew\nintuitively that behind the gloom was a glorious and radiant Power of\nLove, which would dispel the evil when called upon. Narvaez offered him\nthe kingdoms of the world, which rise and fall and pass away as a\nburning scroll: Eberstein offered him the glories of eternal good, which\nendure for ever and ever. He had in many lives tested the lower: now was\nthe time to reach out to the higher. Yet so strong was the temptation of\nthe flesh that the man paused, hesitated, faltered and held his peace.\nAlice sensed the conflict, and strove to surrender her gain of good to\nhim who had treated her so cruelly.\n\n\"If it is permitted, let what I can give go to help my father,\" she\ncried, and then the miracle happened.\n\nEnistor felt an inrush of light, not very strong yet wholly pure, and it\nwas sufficient to turn the scale in spite of the strong insistence of\nthe evil darkness. Yet not in such strength could he conquer. Something\ngreater was needed, but the aid of Alice gave him power to call upon the\ngreater might. \"Hear us, oh! Christ: graciously hear us, oh! Lord\nChrist,\" he cried, in the suddenly remembered words of the Litany, and\nin broken tones.\n\nNarvaez retreated suddenly with a snarl of baffled rage, driven back by\na glorious power, which flooded the being of his escaping victim with\nineffable light. As by magic the darkness vanished, and the radiant\ntenderness of Perfect Love descended upon the weary soul. Enistor's face\ngrew young and bright. With an expression of joyful awe, he stretched\nout imploring hands of surrender and remorse. What he beheld Eberstein\nsaw, as his head was reverently bent, and Narvaez saw also, for he fell\nback slowly towards the door; driven into his self-created darkness by\nthe overwhelming glory of the Cross. Alice, clinging to Montrose,\nmurmured incoherently: \"Do you see Him: do you see Him? There. With His\nhand on my father's head.\"\n\nThe Lord of the Dark Face had vanished: the Lord of Compassion had come\nin power. Like a child who is weary the dying man fell dead on the\npillows, his soul passing onward so gently that the two young people\nscarcely realised that all was over. A moment later, and the Presence\nwas gone. The supernal light, visible to all save Douglas, faded away,\nand Eberstein stepped forward silently to close the tired eyes.\n\n\"May God lead him to a place of refreshment, light and peace,\" he said\nin solemn tones, and over the body he traced the holy emblem of\nsalvation.\n\n\"Amen,\" murmured the two who knelt by the bedside.\n\nAnd away into the night fled the Son of Perdition, baffled, broken and\nbeaten, despoiled of his slave, who was lost to him for ever. And his\nwas the eternal torment of self, which flies though no man pursueth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nDAWN\n\n\nFor six months after the death of her father Alice travelled abroad,\nwith Mrs. Sparrow as her chaperon and companion. The strain to which she\nhad been subjected demanded removal from surroundings so intimately\nconnected with the ordeal, and meanwhile Tremore could be safely left in\ncharge of the housekeeper. It was with some reluctance that Montrose\nagreed to the Continental tour, which had been suggested by Eberstein,\nas it parted him for half a year from the girl he loved. But the doctor\npointed out that absence would make Alice more self-reliant, since she\nwould have to deal single-handed with her sorrow, unaided by her lover's\nsympathy and companionship. Each human being, he declared, must learn to\nbecome a centre of power, depending on God alone for help, since only in\nthis way can such a one develop the necessary strength to act as a\nuseful servant of Christ. It was a drastic training for the young\npeople, at which they winced; but when Eberstein fully convinced them\nthat the flesh must be dominated by the spirit at all costs, they agreed\nto the separation. It was a final test of their obedience, and a great\none.\n\nAlice selected Mrs. Sparrow to accompany her, for two reasons. First,\nshe was sorry for the childish woman, who led so dull a life, and wished\nto brighten her grey existence. Secondly, the girl was immensely\ngrateful to both the vicar and his wife for their championship of\nMontrose in the face of strong evidence as to his guilt, and desired to\ngive some tangible proof of her feelings. Indeed she asked Mr. Sparrow\nto come abroad also, but met with a refusal, since he could not see his\nway to leave his parish for so lengthy a period. However, Douglas\ninduced the good man to pay him a few visits in London during his wife's\nabsence, and these gave great pleasure to Mr. Sparrow, besides which\nthey helped to widen his views. Therefore he was delighted to think that\nhis better half should chaperon Miss Enistor, and took unselfish\npleasure in the preparations for the great event.\n\nAs to Mrs. Sparrow, to journey abroad, and see with her own eyes very\nmany things she had only read about, was like a glimpse of paradise, or\na drink of water to a thirsty man. She left behind her a colourless life\nof scraping and screwing, of cutting and contriving, to enjoy\ncomfortable days of ample means and constant novelty. France,\nSwitzerland, Italy, Germany: Mrs. Sparrow saw them all, and wrote daily\nletters to her husband concerning her experiences. Her being blossomed\nlike a rose in the sunlight of prosperity, and she regained in a great\nmeasure the youth which had been crushed out of her by sordid cares.\nAlice enjoyed the naive delight of her rejuvenated companion as much as\nshe did the sights which brought forth such an expression of pleasure,\nand in this way, amongst others, was aided to forget her late trials.\nThe tour was a complete success, and when the two returned to England\nduring the early blossoming of spring, they were bubbling over with the\njoy of life. And the end of the journey terminated in lovers meeting,\nwhich was fit and proper, according to the dictum of Shakespeare.\n\nThe sorely tried pair were married quietly in London. Mr. Sparrow came\nup to perform the ceremony, Mrs. Sparrow acted as the one and only\nbridesmaid, while Dr. Eberstein gave the bride away. Then came a\npleasant wedding breakfast and the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas\nMontrose to Eastbourne for a delightful honeymoon. Mrs. Barrast was\nannoyed that she had not been asked to the great event, since the wooing\nhad taken place in her house, but she soon got over her pique, and sent\na present to the happy pair, together with a letter in which she\ncomplained that Julian, exiled in Spain, took not the slightest notice\nof her. Douglas laughed over the characteristic selfishness of the\nbutterfly, and wondered openly what she would say if she really knew the\nweird truth. Alice replied that she would never believe it, which was\nextremely probable, considering Mrs. Barrast's limitations.\n\n\"And I only hope that Don Pablo will leave her alone,\" continued Mrs.\nMontrose. \"He is just the kind of man who would play her some malicious\ntrick.\"\n\n\"I don't think he would be permitted to do that,\" rejoined Douglas\nthoughtfully. \"Narvaez is a kind of super-human criminal, and will be\nkept within bounds by the Great Powers which control the world. Mrs.\nBarrast is a frivolous little woman, who does no harm, even if she does\nno good, so she will be protected until she is strong enough to endure\nsuffering.\"\n\n\"It seems rather cruel that if one gains strength and improves one's\ncharacter, one should only grow better to invite sorrow.\"\n\n\"We cannot become gods in any other way, dear. The burden is always\nfitted to the bearer, and what is demanded from the strong is not asked\nfrom the weak. 'Whom God loveth, He chasteneth,' you know.\"\n\n\"I could never understand that text,\" objected Alice, raising her\neyebrows.\n\n\"Eberstein explained it to me,\" replied her husband. \"Through ignorance\none accumulates bad Karma, life after life, which is gradually paid off\nin such a way as not to bear too hardly on those who have to suffer. And\nuntil that Karma, which is of our own making, is paid off, we are\nunprofitable servants working--so to speak--only for ourselves, since it\nis to get rid of the burdens which inconvenience us that we labour. But\nwhen any one vows himself or herself to the service of Christ and\ndesires to work, as the Master did, for humanity at large, the evil\nKarma must be got rid of very speedily, so as to leave freedom for the\nwork.\"\n\n\"Well?\" asked Alice, when he paused, and still not seeing clearly.\n\n\"Cannot you understand? The quicker the Karma is paid off, the sooner\nwill the servant of Christ be free to do what he or she wants in the\nservice of the Master. Thus an appeal is made by the soul to God for\nsuch freedom, and it is answered by the payment of the evil being\nconcentrated in three or four lives, whereas, ordinarily speaking, it\nwould be spread over a hundred. Therefore at the soul's request,\ntrouble after trouble descends without intermission, and the greater\nspeed means the greater pain. Thus do we see many people of blameless\nlives suffering terribly and, humanly speaking, unjustly. But the\nchastening is only the love of God drawing them swiftly to Himself by\nallowing them--at their own request, mind you--to pay off the evil of\npast ignorance at one sweep--so to speak--instead of by instalments.\"\n\n\"I see. But Mrs. Barrast?\"\n\n\"She is in the A B C class. Only easy payments are demanded from her.\"\n\n\"What about ourselves? Are we free?\"\n\n\"In a great measure I think we are--for this incarnation at least, since\nwe have been so bitterly tried. But of course I cannot tell if we have\ndischarged all the evil debts of the past. I don't much care. What is\ngained is well worth the pain.\"\n\nAlice shivered. \"The pain is very great.\"\n\n\"So is the gain. If one works for super-human things, one must be\ncontent to suffer more than the ordinary person. But don't distress\nyourself over such things, dear heart,\" added her husband, taking her in\nhis arms. \"We have passed through the clouds and now stand in the\nsunshine, so what we have to do is to help others as we were helped.\"\n\n\"I have helped Mrs. Sparrow, and you have helped her husband,\" said\nAlice thankfully. \"She is quite a different woman, so gay and bright and\nhopeful.\"\n\n\"And Sparrow is as happy as the day is long. As the living is in your\ngift, Alice, I have arranged to add to the income, so that the two may\nenjoy more of the good things of this life. And when we live at Tremore\nwe can do much good in the parish.\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes!\" Mrs. Montrose's face lighted up. \"I am quite anxious to get\nback and begin some good work. But\"--her face clouded--\"it will not be\npleasant to live in Tremore: it is such a gloomy house, and the\natmosphere--ugh!\" she shuddered at the memory.\n\nMontrose laughed in an encouraging manner. \"As you gave me permission to\ndo what I liked with the house during your absence, I have made very\ngreat improvements,\" he said significantly; \"also Dr. Eberstein is there\nat present.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Alice was curious.\n\n\"Wait and see. I don't fancy you will find Tremore such a disappointing\nresidence as you think it will be.\"\n\nTry as Alice might, she could get no further satisfaction on this point,\nand consequently became desperately anxious to return and see what had\ntaken place. Montrose resisted her desire to go back until he received a\ntelegram from the doctor, and then agreed that they should start for\nCornwall on the next day. During the journey from Eastbourne to London,\nand the journey from Paddington to Perchton, they talked hopefully about\nthe future and made many agreeable plans, mainly concerned with asking\nless fortunate people to share the happiness and wealth which they\nenjoyed. For unlike ordinary mortals this bride and bridegroom looked to\nfinding happiness in clothing the naked and feeding the hungry, in\nteaching the ignorant and comforting the desolate. Only the man who has\nhad toothache can fully sympathise with the man who has it, and in a\nlike manner what Douglas and Alice had suffered made them intensely\nanxious to save others if possible from the purgatory of pain. It was an\nastonishingly unselfish attitude for a happy pair returning from their\nhoneymoon to adopt, since such people are usually wrapped up entirely in\nthemselves. But then they had been fortunate enough to have the\nfriendship of Eberstein and the enmity of Narvaez to bring them to such\na pitch of noble resolve.\n\nAt Perchton, the bride and bridegroom were received by the vicar and his\nwife, a very different couple from what they had been some months\npreviously. There was no greyness about the bright-faced woman: no\nstolid endurance of a dismal life about the genial man. Mr. Sparrow was\ncheery and helpful: Mrs. Sparrow smiled on one and all, beautifully\ndressed, and looking years younger.\n\nThey had learned to be optimistic, instead of giving themselves over to\nreligious pessimism, and were able to enjoy the gracious beauty of the\nworld without the rebuke of a morbid conscience. Sparrow preached more\nabout the Loving Father of the New Testament, and dwelt less on the\njealous and angry God of the Jewish theology. Alice and her husband had\nbegun their work well, for they had humanised two people by helpful\nkindness, and had their reward when they saw the beaming looks of the\ncouple.\n\n\"And Dr. Eberstein is at Tremore,\" said the vicar, when the motor-car\nwas whirling across the long, white moorland road. \"You will be pleased\nto see him, Mrs. Montrose.\"\n\n\"Of course, Mr. Sparrow. Dr. Eberstein is the best friend my husband and\nI ever had, or ever could have.\"\n\n\"I agree,\" said Mrs. Sparrow brightly. \"He is a most delightful man.\"\n\n\"I think so myself, and I approve of him,\" remarked the vicar\nthoughtfully, \"although his views are scarcely orthodox. He believes in\nthe strange doctrine of Reincarnation; although I am bound to say he did\nnot attempt to convert me to his way of thinking.\"\n\n\"Did you attempt to convert him?\" asked Montrose, with twinkling eyes.\n\n\"Well, I did,\" confessed Mr. Sparrow, \"as it seemed a pity such a man\nshould be in error, and credit a pagan belief which has come down to us\nfrom the dark ages. But he merely smiled and declined to argue. It is a\ngreat pity,\" repeated the vicar regretfully, \"as he does much good and\npossesses a really fine nature. However, we must not lose heart. He may\nyet change his views.\"\n\n\"I scarcely think he will,\" said Montrose dryly. \"And as he is a servant\nof Christ as you are, what does it matter?\"\n\n\"There is much to be said on that point,\" retorted Mr. Sparrow\nsententiously. \"For you know that Christ said nothing about\nReincarnation and----\"\n\n\"Edgar,\" interrupted Mrs. Sparrow quickly, \"this is not the time to talk\nof such things. Later, dear, later. Meanwhile, I am sure that Alice is\nanxious to know all that has taken place in Polwellin since she went\naway.\"\n\n\"Nothing has taken place, Jane. Things remain as they were. Though I am\nglad to say,\" ended the vicar hopefully, \"that the parishioners pay\ngreater attention to my sermons than they did.\"\n\n\"Because you preach more cheerfully, dear,\" said his wife, and then\naddressed herself to Alice: \"Dame Trevel is quite reconciled to the loss\nof her son.\"\n\n\"Has he not returned?\" asked the girl quickly.\n\n\"No. And the police cannot find him. He has vanished altogether, and as\nthere was a storm on the night he murdered Don Pablo, it is thought that\nhe has been drowned.\"\n\n\"It is very probable,\" struck in the vicar. \"Job went away without his\nmates--urged to flight by a guilty conscience no doubt--and so could not\nhandle the heavy boat by himself. I am sure he has been drowned. It is\njust as well--if you do not think me harsh in saying so--for he would\nonly have survived to be hanged, and that would have broken his mother's\nheart.\"\n\n\"It is already broken,\" said Mrs. Sparrow, with an expression of pain.\n\"But I can't say the same for Rose Penwin,\" she added energetically.\n\"That misguided girl has gone to London with the idea of appearing on\nthe stage.\"\n\n\"Well, she is beautiful and clever. She may succeed as an actress.\"\n\n\"But the temptations, Montrose! They are many. I consider Se\u00f1or Narvaez\ndid wrong in putting such ideas into her head. Rose has been trained in\nmy Sunday school, and may resist temptation, but I dread the worst.\"\n\n\"I hope for the best. Let us not be hard on her, Edgar. We are none of\nus perfect, you know, dear.\"\n\n\"You are,\" the vicar patted his wife's hand, and by so doing added the\nbeauty of a fond smile to her face. \"And I am sure Montrose thinks that\nhis wife is.\"\n\n\"That goes without saying,\" replied the newly made bridegroom, in high\ngood humour. \"Here is Polwellin at last.\"\n\nThe villagers received the couple with loudly expressed joy, having an\neye to the future. Enistor had been a tyrant, and so desperately poor\nthat he had extorted the last penny of rent from those who could ill\nafford it. But the new Squire and his wife were young, and rich, and\nsoft-hearted, so the tenants hoped for glorious times of peace and\nplenty. And the hope was duly fulfilled, for the relationship between\nPolwellin and Tremore became much more friendly than it had been in the\nold bad days. Douglas, as the vicar's right hand, laboured as the Moses\nto his Aaron in dealing with the temporal prosperity of the parish,\nwhile Alice acted as Lady Bountiful for ever and a day. Therefore,\nhaving such true premonitions of a joyful future, it was no wonder that\nthe bluff fishermen and their tall womenfolk welcomed their benefactors\nwith loud cheers and smiling faces, as they called down profuse\nblessings on their young heads.\n\nAt the foot of the hill rising to Tremore, Montrose and his wife sent on\nthe car with their luggage, and alighted to visit the grave of Enistor,\nwhich Alice wished to do before re-entering her old home. The vicar and\nMrs. Sparrow took their departure, and the girl with her husband turned\naside to the grey windy God's acre wherein so many generations of the\nfamily were laid to rest. Here, over the last Squire's remains, rose a\nbroken column of white marble, emblematic of his abruptly ended life. On\nits base was inscribed the name \"Korah Enistor,\" with the date of birth\nand the time of death, together with the significant text from the\nPsalms: \"Thou also shalt light my candle: the Lord my God shall make my\ndarkness to be light!\" None but Alice and her husband and Eberstein\nunderstood the full meaning of the hopeful saying, therefore much\ncomment was made on its mystery. But aware that through God's mercy her\nfather had set his feet on the way of the Cross, which leads to Eternal\nLight, the girl was able to pray for the dead without tears. Douglas\nalso removed his hat and offered up a petition for his former enemy,\nafter which he led his wife from the churchyard towards the great house\non the hill.\n\n\"Welcome! Welcome! thrice welcome,\" said Dr. Eberstein, who waited for\nthem with outstretched hands at the door. \"Now indeed, made one by the\nsacrament of marriage, do you step forward into the full sunshine of\npeace and joy, to work for the Great Master by helping His children.\"\n\nAlice and her husband each clasped a hand, but could say nothing, as\ntheir hearts were too full to speak. But the servants, headed by the\nsmiling housekeeper, demanded attention, so the young couple controlled\ntheir feelings and graciously thanked one and all for their kindly\ngreeting. Then the domestics retired to a festival of eating and\ndrinking in the kitchen, while Eberstein conducted Douglas and Alice\nthrough many rooms which had been rendered brighter and lighter by\nmodern improvements. There was still the dark oak panelling, the grave\nfamily portraits, the low ceilings and old-fashioned furniture. But\neverything had been renovated in the best possible taste, and the effect\nof the whole was less gloomy than it had been. But something more than\nfurbishing up rooms and furniture had been done to make the house feel\nso cheerful and bright. What it was Alice could not say, and looked\nround with a puzzled air. The doctor enjoyed her perplexity, and when he\nfinally led the pair into the library, guided the girl to one of the low\ncasements. \"Do you see any change in the ground?\" he asked, smiling.\n\nAlice, who had not taken notice of her surroundings when entering the\nhouse, looked out wonderingly. The dark wood had a more cheerful\nappearance, as many of the trees were budding with spring green, fresh\nand delicate, while the ever-leafy branches of cedars and stone-pines\nand yews sparkled with the refreshment of a light shower, so that they\nalso hinted at renewed youth. But the greatest marvel of all was that\nthe space of beaten ground immediately surrounding the house was covered\nwith an emerald carpet of turf, and the golden crocus, the pale\nsnowdrop, and many violets were to be seen here, there, and everywhere\nlike gleams of faint many-coloured fire. Out of doors a new life seemed\nto burgeon and bloom, while within there was a fresh living atmosphere,\ncharged with creative power and fertile with the promise of glorious\ndoings, noble, unselfish, holy. Quite unable to explain this mystic\nchange from death to life, which made Tremore a centre of joy and\nabiding tranquillity, Alice turned to inquire mutely how the miracle had\ncome about. Apparently Douglas knew, for Douglas smiled; but he waited\nfor the master to enlighten his wife.\n\n\"I have cleansed the house,\" said Eberstein gravely. \"All those forces\nof hate and destruction, which created so evil an atmosphere, have been\nbroken up and dispersed. They had their source in the selfish thoughts\nof your father, strongly accentuated by Don Pablo's wicked teaching. Now\nthat the Squire is dead and Narvaez has departed for ever, the shadow\nhas lifted. By the performance of a powerful ceremony I have exorcised\nthe dark elementals. And now----\" he touched Alice lightly between the\neyes, bidding her use the clairvoyant sense he had thus awakened.\n\nThe room was filled with a luminous rosy light, alive with scintillation\nof diamond brilliancy. And her sight, piercing the walls, beheld the\nwhole house bathed in this celestial radiance, although towards the\nback, where the servants congregated, the clearness was somewhat dimmed\nby their ignorant thoughts of self. Life was everywhere, pulsating in\ngreat waves, welling up gloriously from the heart of the world, so that,\nwithin and without, Tremore was alive with the splendour of unhampered\nforce. Alice could now understand how the beaten ground round the house,\nformerly rendered barren by hate, was now covered with verdure and\nmany-hued with flowers. Love was in the mansion, love was in the garden,\nlove was in the woodland, and that mighty power had caused the desert to\nblossom like a rose. The light sang, softly, musical with the murmur of\ninnumerable bees, and the girl felt as though she were in the heart of\nan opalescent sphere which vibrated with harmony. When her eyes looked\nagain on physical things, the doctor was speaking.\n\n\"See that you do not disturb the harmony by any thought or word or deed\nof self. Here you have a centre of holy power, to which those tormented\nby the warring forces of the world can come to find peace and heavenly\nrefreshment. Such in the days of old were the shrines, whither pilgrims\ntravelled for the healing of their souls. You and your husband are the\nguardians of this place, and here many weary men and women will come for\nsolace. See that you send them not empty away. A great trust is reposed\nin you, my children; a great work is given you to do. Thank therefore\nthe Christ who has chosen you for this service of love.\"\n\nAfter this solemn admonition, Eberstein became his usual quiet genial\nself, and passed a very pleasant evening with the young couple. After\ndinner he discoursed to them at length, giving many wise counsels, and\ninstructing them how to deal with the future. When they retired to rest\nhe told them to rise at sunrise and meet him in the garden, since it was\nhis intention to leave Tremore before breakfast. Knowing that he had\nmuch work to do, Douglas and Alice never thought of pressing him to\nstay, although they greatly regretted that he could not give them more\nof his company. They said little to one another, for all that had taken\nplace awed them considerably. But when the east was radiant with the\npromise of another day, and awaking birds twittered amongst the darkling\ntrees, they came out on to the dewy lawn, to find their guest ready to\ndepart. He was dressed for travelling, his portmanteau was already on a\nmotor, which panted far away at the gate of the avenue, and in the\nsilence of the dawn he came forward to bid them farewell.\n\nTaking each by the hand, Eberstein led them to a small hill towards the\nback of the house, where the sun could be seen rising over the\nundulating line of the moorlands. An arc of fire was just showing above\nthe horizon, and a splendour of light was changing the rosy hues of the\neastern sky into a golden haze. Silently prayerful, the three stood\nlooking at this aerial magnificence. It was the doctor who spoke first.\n\n\"See there the promise of your future,\" he said quietly. \"The darkness\nof the night has fled away before the glory of the celestial orb. So\nhave the black clouds amidst which you walked of late been dispersed by\nthe Sun of Righteousness, which has risen with healing on His wings. You\nknow what work you are appointed to do?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Montrose gravely. \"Six months in the year Alice and I must\nlive in London, seeking out the lame, the halt, and the blind; both the\nspiritually sick and the physically crippled. We must give to them\nmoney, attention, sympathy, love and instruction, looking on every man\nas a brother and on every woman as a sister, irrespective of race or\ncreed.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" said Eberstein, nodding, \"because all are one, and you are in\nothers as others are in you, all being in the Father, through the Son by\nthe power of the Holy Spirit. And then?\" he turned to Alice.\n\n\"For six months in the year Douglas and I must live here,\" she said,\nequally gravely, \"and here we must bring those who need rest and help.\nWe must not pauperise them by indiscriminate charity, but must teach\neach to become a centre of power, to develop his or her latent\nfaculties. Finally, we must never think of self, but let the Power of\nGood flow through us unhindered by selfish desire.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" said Eberstein again, and smiled approvingly. \"Remember that\nto be channels of the Divine power you must surrender all. A single\nthought of self and the channel is choked. Freely the power is given to\nyou, so freely must you give it to others, and in passing through you on\nits beneficent mission it will cleanse you both body and soul,\nstrengthening each so that you may be strong, wholesome servants of The\nChrist. You have learned your lesson well, my children, so it only\nremains for me to go.\"\n\n\"We shall see you again, I hope?\" asked Douglas anxiously.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" responded the doctor cheerfully. \"Every year I shall come and\nstay with you, for there is much instruction in higher things to be\ngiven. By following the Master and living as nearly as possible His\ngracious life, you will refine your physical bodies to such a degree\nthat in time you will be able to link up with the desire body and the\nmental body--consciously, that is. Already every night you both work and\nhelp in the next world, although you cannot yet remember what you do.\nBut when the time is ripe you will remember, and consciously pass from\nthis world to the other. Afterwards you will pass consciously from the\ndesire world to the mental sphere, and so you will work constantly on\nthree planes as the servants of Him who died on the Cross. Think then,\nmy children, how glorious is your future.\"\n\nThe faces of both brightened, but Douglas spoke rather mournfully.\n\"There is much to do in the physical world alone,\" he protested. \"Look\nat the unrest that prevails everywhere.\"\n\n\"Be of good courage, my son. This unrest you fear shows how rapidly\nhumanity is progressing. This is the era of individualisation, when each\nhas to think for himself. Is it then any wonder that opposing wills\nclash, when all are so ignorant? But Chaos must precede Cosmos, and the\nhuman race is in a very hot furnace being shaped towards the ends\nintended by the God of All. The inner teaching is being given out freely\nto the West and to the East, to the North and to the South, therefore is\na new spirit being infused into all religions for the enlightenment of\nmankind.\"\n\n\"Into _all_ religions?\" questioned Alice dubiously.\n\n\"Yes! All the great religions are true in their essence, for all worship\nthe One True God in Trinity, or in Duality, or in Unity. What men\nquarrel over and what they reprobate are only those external things\nwhich have been added by the ignorance of man. But the time is at hand\nwhen such errors will be dispelled, and then all religions will be\nunified by the Blessed One. To this nation and that God has spoken\nin different ways: soon He will speak to all with one mighty voice,\nand all men will learn that they are the sons of one great Father.\nNotwithstanding the turmoil of the present, be of good cheer, I say, for\n'All things work together for good,' as St. Paul has set forth.\"\n\nIn the glory of the sun, now wholly above the horizon, Alice and her\nhusband walked down the avenue to where the motor-car throbbed as if\nimpatient to start. There was a clean, fresh look about the world, as if\nit had been newly made, and although husband and wife were a trifle sad\nat the departure of Eberstein, yet their hearts were singing with joy,\nand they were filled with gratitude to God for what He had done for\nthem.\n\n\"Farewell, and may the Master bless you,\" said Eberstein, from the body\nof the car. \"When I come again let me find that you have worked in the\nvineyard as true labourers. And so----\" he traced the sign of the cross\nin the air, and Alice saw it visibly outlined in dazzling light as the\nmotor sped swiftly down the hill, through Polwellin and towards Perchton\nover the purple moors.\n\n\"Dear!\" Douglas took his wife in his arms, \"do not cry.\"\n\n\"These are joyful tears, I think,\" said Alice, smiling. \"God is so\ngood.\"\n\n\"Let us try to show ourselves worthy of His goodness,\" replied the young\nman, with an answering smile. \"Come, dear, our work awaits us.\"\n\nAnd in the glory of the spring morning, under the budding green of the\ntrees, and across the soft grass of the lawn, they passed into their\ndear home, no longer the house of hate, but the Mansion Beautiful,\nwherein great works were to be done by them in their day and generation.\n\n\nBallantyne & Company Ltd\nTavistock Street Covent Garden\nLondon\n\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nObvious punctuation and printer's errors were corrected.\n\nInconsistent hyphenation was retained.\n\nOn page 372, \"illwill\" was changed to \"ill-will\" (so doubtless\nthis feeling of ill-will).\n\nOn page 134, \"Amy\" was changed to \"Alice\" (\"I am glad he does,\"\nsaid Alice soberly).","title":"A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance","tradition":"ritual-magic","translated_text":null,"word_count":105761}