A Son of Perdition Part 38

"I refuse: I refuse! I am myself: none shall rule me."

"Narvaez rules you, and will you bend to him rather than to the Holy One?"

"I make use of Narvaez!"

"He makes use of you rather. Oh, blind, blind! Already he is plotting and scheming to gain you riches in this life as he did in others, so that he may bind you the more securely to him."

"If that is the case why don't you thwart his schemes?" taunted Enistor.

"He has free-will, and must act according to his own judgment. Moreover, those he plots against are delivered into his hand by their own acts.

One is, at all events. Alice escaped from his rule in Chaldea when he slew her by his black magic, and since then he has striven vainly to enchain her again. Montrose is at his mercy and at yours, because of the crime he committed in the Temple of the Star-Angel. He stabbed you and carried away a vestal, in spite of my warnings. For this reason Narvaez has power over him, and as, through love, the Karma of Alice is connected with the Karma of Montrose, she has to suffer in a vicarious way. But Narvaez cannot rule her."

"He can rule Montrose however," sneered the Squire.

"Not in the way you think. Ignorance has made Montrose helpless, as he sinned through blind pa.s.sion. But he has not deliberately given himself over to the Dark Powers as you have."

"I have not given myself over."

"You have--believe me you have," insisted Eberstein. "And even now your evil master fears lest you should escape, as your soul is striving mightily. There are germs of good in you which I am trying to awaken.

Now a great chance is being given to you to escape from the bondage of sin. See that you take it."

"What chance?"

"Montrose owes you a life: he is possessed of a fortune which you think you ought to have. Forgive him his sin against you, and admit that he has a right to keep the fortune. Then your chains will break."

"And if I refuse?"

"The greater will be your sufferings, both in this life and in others."

"You threaten, do you?"

"I plead and warn. But I see that you will not listen, therefore I talk in vain." Eberstein was silent for a moment, then added quietly, "But it may be that the Blessed One working through Montrose may save you yet.

Great is the mercy of G.o.d and great is His patience."

Eberstein then left the room. Enistor gazed after him with a sneer.

"Why, I believe he is afraid of me," he muttered, with inconceivable foolishness.

CHAPTER XVII

THE DISCIPLE OF HATE

Dr. Eberstein came and went like a gleam of suns.h.i.+ne. His mere presence comforted the lovers, since they felt that he would be a source of strength in time of trouble. Truly that time had not yet arrived, but the hint given of its proximity made those who were destined to suffer both uneasy and apprehensive. As the doctor refused to explain what was about to take place sooner or later, the suspense was extraordinarily trying, and only the profound faith of the lovers in their tried friend enabled them to endure. At present, things certainly went smoothly, since Narvaez had ceased to persecute and Enistor was apparently agreeable to the marriage. Nevertheless the young couple felt insecure and sensed clouds gathering swiftly in the summer sky. It was the ominous calm before the breaking of the storm, and the sole comfort lay in the fact that Eberstein remained at Perchton, able and willing on their behalf to deal with the problematic future.

As to Enistor, after his one interview with the doctor he scoffed at the idea of such a man endangering the success of his schemes. In common with the majority of people, the Squire considered a loving disposition to be a distinct sign of weakness, and Eberstein's tolerant arguments only strengthened this belief. Judging the disciple of love by his own limitations, Enistor a.s.sured himself that if the doctor really possessed power he would make use of it to gain what he wanted. The Squire was not very clear in his mind as to what Eberstein really did want, but nevertheless believed that to secure his ends he would long since have exhibited some capacity to enforce obedience on his enemies. But far from doing this, or even threatening, the doctor had merely talked ethically. Enistor scouted such chatter, since he could not, and indeed would not, believe that the power of love was stronger than, or even as strong as, the power of hate. The fact that Narvaez had been reduced to impotence when exercising his evil will should have warned the Squire that he had to deal with overwhelming forces, but he shut his eyes to such a plain revelation and persisted obstinately in believing that he was superior to the gigantic power of good. It was simply a case of "neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead," and Enistor declined to believe the evidence of his own eyes. There is nothing stops the progress of any one so much as intellectual pride, since it persistently distorts the truth into what it wishes to believe _is_ the truth.

Don Pablo could have enlightened him, since he was not foolish enough to underestimate the forces with which he fought, even though in his insane pride he pitted himself against those very forces. But Don Pablo had shut himself in his cottage, and again and again refused to see his pupil. And Enistor could not force himself upon the seclusion of the sage, as he knew by experience that Narvaez, less considerate than Eberstein, would do him an injury if annoyed. So the Squire likewise had to wait as did Alice and her lover. The nerves of all three were strung up to breaking-point, and the atmosphere of Tremore became more than ever insistently oppressive.

To escape the pressure Alice went down to see Dame Trevel in the village, leaving Douglas to write sundry letters. Afterwards he was to join her on the moors, so that they might go for a lengthy walk before dinner. The old nurse was at home as usual, but Alice was surprised to find Hardwick with her. The artist looked like a wax image for paleness, and was seated in the pet chair of the hostess with the appearance of a man who had not long to live. The momentary improvement in his health when he had gone to Perchton had pa.s.sed away, and Alice uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"Oh, Julian, how ill you look! You should be in bed."

"And that's what I tell him, my dear," said Mrs. Trevel, looking anxiously at the young man. "Bed for the likes of he, say I."

"I'm sick of bed," said Julian, in a pettish tone quite foreign to his usual speech. "It does me no good to lie like a log day after day. Thank G.o.d, it won't be long now before the end comes."

"Oh, Julian, don't talk in that way," cried Alice tearfully.

"My dear, I have done all I can, and the result is of the worst. The Perchton doctor can do no good, and even Montrose's friend says that I shall never get better. There is nothing organically wrong. I am just dying of sheer debility."

"But careful nursing----"

Mrs. Trevel shook her ancient head. "Nursing and doctors and medicine won't do the gentleman any good, Miss Alice. He's come to me for some herbal cure, but there's nothing I can give. Only the Almighty can renew his strength."

"The Almighty does not see fit to do so," said Julian moodily. "Don't cry, for heaven's sake, Alice. Tears are of no use. After all it is just as well you refused to marry me, as I should soon have left you a widow, and an unprovided-for widow at that. Until your father found me insensible on the moor no one knew my secret, not even my sister; and I always managed to keep up, even to racing you to Tremore, if you remember."

"Yes, I remember! I never dreamed you had anything the matter with you."

"Nor did any one else save a London doctor. But of late this debility has gained on me, and the end is very near. My dear, I was selfish to propose to you without telling the truth."

"Oh, don't say that, Julian. Can nothing be done?"

"Nothing! My heart may stop at any moment, as the Perchton doctor says.

One comfort I have and that is an easy death awaits me." Hardwick began to laugh in a feeble manner. "I don't look like a man who is able to enjoy a legacy, do I, Alice?"

"A legacy? What do you mean?"

"Why, Don Pablo, who always objected to me because I loved you, has turned out to be an unexpected friend. He came yesterday to see me and explained that he had left all his money to me. If I could only live, Alice, I should be a very wealthy man."

"Why has Senor Narvaez done this?" asked the girl, puzzled.

"Lord knows," replied Julian indifferently. "He says he has taken a fancy to me, and that as you are to marry Montrose he and I are in the same boat, as your rejected lovers. He's not a bad old fellow after all."

Alice s.h.i.+vered. "I can never like Don Pablo."

"Oh, I don't know. He's eccentric rather than bad, and perhaps he really did love you. At all events, he has behaved most kindly towards me during my illness, sending grapes and wine and other delicacies. I used to dislike him and wanted to refuse them, but he came and behaved so sympathetically that I accepted what he offered. But his legacy," Julian shook his head, "I shall never live to enjoy that."

But Alice could not bring herself to believe that Narvaez was the good unselfish man Hardwick made him out to be. "I wonder what is behind all this amiable behaviour, Julian?" she asked, pondering.

"Wickedness, dearie!" cried Dame Trevel unexpectedly. "Don't you never think as the leopard can change them spots of his. That foreign gentleman is the devil, if ever there was one, with horns and hoofs, and as black as a coal from the pit. He's got some wicked design on you, Mr.

Hardwick, as he has with that silly girl, Rose Penwin."

"Oh, there is nothing wrong about what he is doing for Rose," said Julian, with a faint smile. "He told me that she had great dramatic talent and should go on the stage. He is willing to help her."

"He is willing to make a fool of her," said Mrs. Trevel, knitting vigorously, "and that's a fact. Why can't he leave the girl alone to marry Job and do her best to be a good wife; not that she ever will be, the pretty fool. Your Don Babbler, or Pabbler, or whatever you call him, will get his neck twisted by my lad, if he don't mind his own business.