A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance

"Julian, I can't bear to leave you like this."

"You can do no good by stopping beside me. I am not suffering any pain, remember; only fading out of life as it were. I don't know whether it is owing to the fall of the year, or over-exertion on my part, but it is surprising to think how swiftly I have broken up altogether."

"I never dreamed that you were so weak."

Julian laughed and nodded. "I kept my secret well by only seeing you and others when I was feeling stronger than usual. However, I can play my part no longer, and anyhow it matters little. Now I shall get to bed. Look in occasionally and get Montrose to call when he has time."

Alice, greatly distressed, but wholly unable to improve matters in any way, took a tearful leave of the sick man and climbed up the path leading across the moors to the hill of the Roman encampment. There, by the Druidical altar, she had arranged to meet Douglas, and as the pathway ran past Don Pablo's cottage she decided to see the man about his interference in Job Trevel's love-affairs. The fisherman was certainly growing dangerous, and much as the girl disliked Narvaez, she had no wish to see him strangled. Besides, if her foster-brother allowed his temper to get the better of him to this extent he would undoubtedly be hanged, and that would break Dame Trevel's heart.

More than ever Alice wondered why the Spaniard should wish to benefit Rose by giving her a chance of exhibiting her beauty on the stage, and should desire to make Julian a wealthy man. So far as she could understand, Narvaez was anything but a philanthropist, and, although he had succeeded in convincing Hardwick of his kindly nature and generous disposition, Miss Enistor had her doubts. It was borne in upon her that for his own mysterious ends Don Pablo was acting a comedy which might – and in the case of Job certainly would – turn into a tragedy. Regarding Julian's legacy Alice had no wish to interfere, but so far as Rose was concerned she thought it would be just as well to warn the Spaniard that he was playing with fire. With this determination she came in sight of Don Pablo's cottage about half an hour before the time appointed for the meeting with Douglas on the mount.

It was such a glorious day that there were quite a number of people on the moors, mostly women, who were gathering bracken and cutting peat. The blustering winds of previous days had died away, and rain had ceased to deluge the country, so that the vast spaces of many-coloured herbage spread largely and clearly under the grey-blue sky. There were no mists to veil the view or blur the outline of distant hills, and but for the keen nip in the air and the presence of frost in deep hollows where the pools were iced over, it might have been summer. Alice quite enjoyed the walk in the pale sunshine, and her cheeks grew more rosy and her eyes brighter while she advanced towards the trysting-place. When she came unexpectedly upon Don Pablo taking the air, some trifling distance from his cottage, Miss Enistor looked more charming than ever the old man had seen her. He was aware of her coming with that preternatural acuteness which distinguished him, and came forward with a gallant air of greeting which ill accorded with his withered looks. The man appeared to be older than ever, and – as Alice thought – more wicked.

"This is indeed a surprise," smirked the elderly lover, bowing; "are you on your way to see me?"

"I am on my way to see Mr. Montrose," replied Alice coldly, for the man revolted her now as always; "but I did intend to call in at your cottage."

"How kind of you. Permit me to lead you into my humble abode."

"No, thank you. I can talk to you here. It is about Rose Penwin."

"Indeed! She has been telling you how I wish to forward her fortunes."

"No. But Dame Trevel told me and I came to expostulate."

Narvaez grinned wickedly. "For doing a kind action. Surely not."

"I don't see where the kindness comes in, to launch a girl on the London stage and place her in the midst of temptation, when she could be a happy wife in Polwellin."

"You talk like a woman of fifty, my dear Alice. What do you know of temptation, or of life at all? As for Rose being the happy wife of a rude fisherman, that is impossible to one of her beauty and talents. As one old enough to be her great-grandfather surely I am permitted to help her to do something in the world."

"Polwellin is all the world Rose needs," said Alice resolutely; "until you interfered she was quite content to marry Job. Why did you meddle?"

"Ask yourself that question, my dear," retorted Narvaez, coolly adjusting his fur coat. "I was engaged to you – "

"Never! Never! Never!"

"And you threw me over," continued Don Pablo, just as if she had not spoken; "therefore I tried to comfort my heart by doing good. Marry me and I shall leave Rose to become that oaf's wife."

"I shall not marry you."

"So you say, but I think differently. The game is not yet played out."

"What game?" asked Alice, looking at his malicious face with distaste.

Narvaez chuckled wickedly. "You know, yet you don't know," he rejoined enigmatically. "When you are my wife this problem will be explained to you."

"I shall never be your wife."

"Indeed you shall and your lover's fortune shall be restored to your father, who ought to have it. There are wheels within wheels, my dear girl, and much is going on of which you are ignorant."

"I daresay," said Alice firmly, "you are capable of any wickedness. But it is impossible for you to harm me or Douglas. You forget that we have a friend in Dr. Eberstein."

The Spaniard's wrinkled face grew black, and he looked like a wicked little gnome bent upon mischief. "I defy Eberstein and his silly power," he said shrilly. "He can do much, but I can do more. No one can hurt me."

"Job can and Job will, Señor Narvaez. You don't know the tempers of our West Country men. Already he is dangerous, and if you do not leave Rose alone he will break your neck."

"My neck is not so easily broken," retorted Don Pablo tartly. "I am not so feeble as my appearance warrants. There are other ways than those of mere brute force by which I can defend myself. Eberstein – pouf!" he snapped his fingers in disdain. "Job Trevel – pouf!" he repeated the action; "but Montrose," he added with a sudden change of tone, and raising his voice so that some women working in a near depression of the ground heard him. "I am afraid of Montrose. He may kill me."

"You are talking rubbish," said Alice, startled by the meaning hate in his tones. "Douglas scarcely knows you."

"He will know me better soon. I see him coming along yonder. Doubtless to meet you and enjoy those kisses which should be mine." Don Pablo with surprising activity leaped to the girl's side. "Do you think that I shall surrender you to him?" His hot breath fanned her cheek. "Shall I permit a fool to triumph over me? No!" He gripped her wrist before she could swerve aside. "You are mine. You shall be my wife, my slave, my helper, my instrument. And this is the sign of your bondage."

"Douglas! Douglas!" Alice shrieked as the hateful Spaniard threw his arm round her waist and endeavoured to press his withered lips to her own.

"Mine! Mine!" cried Narvaez, and the girl felt faint with disgust as he clung to her like a loathsome snake. The next instant he was whirled away by a strong arm, and Douglas was sustaining Alice, while the women from their work of peat-cutting and some men with them ran up, crying loudly.

"You beastly little devil," shouted the young man furiously, "I shall break every bone in your body."

"You hear! you hear!" screamed Don Pablo, raising himself on his hands and knees with an effort; "he threatens me. He wants to kill me."

Narvaez was no favourite in Polwellin, but he was rich and had made friends with the mammon of unrighteousness in the village. Therefore the men and women murmured something about the shame of a young man striking so old a gentleman. They had not seen the entire episode, and even if they had would not have blamed the Spaniard overmuch, since it was popularly reported that the younger man had stolen the promised bride of the older one. "Lat um be," said one of the men, stretching out his arm to prevent Montrose again falling on Don Pablo, which he seemed inclined to do.

"Yes, let him be," panted Alice, clinging to her lover, "he is mad. I shall tell my father how he has insulted me."

"Insult you!" shrieked Narvaez, crawling up with the expression of a fiend. "I wonder you think any one can insult you."

Montrose broke away from Alice and, gripping Narvaez firmly, shook him like a terrier shaking a rat. "You wicked wretch, how dare you! I'll kill you if you insult Miss Enistor further."

"Lat um be," growled the same man who had spoken before; "um be bad fur sure, but um be old, my young sir."

"Pah!" Douglas flung the little gnome away and took Alice's arm within his own. "Let him keep out of my way then. If he crosses my path again I shall rid the world of his accursed presence."

"You hear! You hear!" shouted Don Pablo again. "He threatens to kill me. If anything happens to me, remember all of you what has been said."

"Aye, we'll remember. But why didn't you lat her as is to be his wife alone?"

"She was to be my wife and he robbed me of her," snarled Narvaez, arranging his disordered attire.

"Come away! come away," murmured Alice, with white lips and dragging Douglas aside, for the young man's fury was overpowering him again.

"Yes, I'll go. I am not master of myself while that little reptile is about – oh, you toad – you – " Words failed Montrose, and he walked hurriedly away with Alice, after shaking his fist at Narvaez.

"You threatened to kill me: I'll remember that," shouted the Spaniard after him. "You threatened in the presence of witnesses."

Montrose, walking swiftly home with Alice, paid no attention to the cry, but turned to the girl with a white face of suppressed anger and dilated nostrils. "Why didn't you let me twist his neck?" he growled.

"He's an old man," apologised Alice, shivering.

"An old beast. Is age to protect him from being punished? I shall tell your father, and Narvaez will never enter again into Tremore. He won't come near me again in a hurry, I'll warrant, after that shaking."

"He is dangerous! dangerous!" said the girl, trembling violently. "There is some meaning in what he did. You heard how he called on those men and women to witness that you had threatened him."

"I'll do more than threaten if he dares to as much as look at you again."

"Douglas, he is dangerous. Keep away from him."

"I don't want to have anything to do with him. He is old as you say, and I can't thrash the life out of him as I should like to. Come, Alice, you will be all right soon. You have done with Narvaez; he has cut his own throat."

"He is dangerous! He is dangerous!" and that was all the girl could say, or think, since a dim feeling that future evil would come out of present evil haunted her in a way she could not explain.

Had the two overheard what Narvaez was saying and seen what he was doing, Douglas also might have deemed the man dangerous. He gave money to the men and women who had witnessed the affair, and told them to remember the threats of Montrose. "I am an old man. I love Miss Enistor as a daughter," whimpered Don Pablo, "yet my life is in danger. I shall get the police to protect me. As it is, this young ruffian has almost killed me," and with a feeble gait he tottered into his cottage. There he smiled grimly when within four walls and rubbed his hands. "That is the first act of the drama: now for the second."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE NIGHT BEFORE

Enistor was furious when he was told how Narvaez had insulted his daughter, for although he had little love for the girl, yet his family pride rose up in arms against such behaviour. Don Pablo was useful to him, as he knew a great deal about super-physical laws, which the Squire desired to know also, and in which he was being instructed. All the same the Spaniard had proved to be a hard master, and moreover had talked much about the recovery of the fortune, but had done little towards enabling it to be regained. Then again, Narvaez had been struck down in the moment of triumph by a stronger force than any he possessed, and that made him out to be less powerful than he claimed he was. In one word, Enistor was beginning to consider Don Pablo to be something of a humbug.

Certainly there were the pains to which he could subject his pupil when he so chose. But that was, as Enistor knew, mere hypnotic suggestion and could be nullified by an opposing will. Narvaez hitherto had possessed the more dominating influence, but since his capabilities appeared to be shattered by the intervention of the higher powers, it might be that he could not inflict further hurt. The Squire wondered if he could make his dark master suffer by taking him unawares while his forces were weak, and determined to do so if he could, if only to be avenged for the series of petty insults to which he had long been subjected. Why Narvaez should behave in such a crude animal way to Alice, the girl's father could not think. But as he had over-stepped the mark, it gave Enistor an opportunity of becoming openly hostile. Enistor was selfish and unscrupulous, but there was that in him which resented the treatment to which Alice had been subjected. Perhaps the germs of good to which Eberstein had referred were sprouting with unexpected swiftness. But be it as it may, Enistor sought the moorland cottage breathing out fire and fury against his former friend.

Narvaez refused to see him, and when Enistor, sternly angry, sent word by the old housekeeper that he would break his way in and take the consequence, he still refused. However, he improved upon his former message by sending an intimation that he would receive the Squire on the following afternoon. With this Enistor was fain to be content, as by breaking in he would only cause a scandal, which for Alice's sake was not to be thought of. The master of Tremore was a very proud man, and could not bear to think that his family name should be made the subject of police-court gossip. But when he returned home, he believed more than ever that Narvaez was a fraud, as he had not even attempted to inflict the usual pains by suggestion. The man was getting so old that he was losing his nerve, and shortly would not be worth considering whether as friend or foe. Having therefore lost the magician's dark assistance, Enistor decided to try to recover the fortune in his own way.

Alice, shaken by Don Pablo's conduct, had retired early to bed and Montrose was seated in the library with his host over after-dinner coffee and tobacco. He was still seething with anger, but since the Squire had taken matters into his own hands, he could do nothing but look on. After a full discussion of the affair, Enistor insisted that it should be shelved.

"We have talked enough about it," he said in a peremptory tone. "I promise you that Narvaez shall not enter these doors again. To-morrow I shall explain my opinion to him, and then he can go hang for me. With regard to his desire to marry Alice – "

"Surely after what has taken place, sir, you would never think of any possible marriage," cried Montrose, glowing with wrath, "let alone the fact that you have tacitly agreed to Alice becoming my wife."

"I certainly refuse to think further of Narvaez as my son-in-law," said the Squire stiffly, "in spite of his wealth. But as regards yourself the possibility of your making my daughter your wife rests with you entirely."

The young man laughed and rested his reddish-hued head against the back of the chair. "If it rests with me the matter is soon settled," he said, with a relieved expression in his eyes. He thought that the Squire was talking in a remarkably sensible way.

"That depends upon how you reply to the question I am about to ask," said Enistor dryly. "You inherit the fortune of my sister?"

"Yes!" Douglas sat up, aware that the conversation was becoming serious. "We have not spoken about this matter before, sir, but I would have you know, now that the ice is broken between us, that never in any way did I seek that fortune. It was a surprise to me when I heard the will read by Mr. Cane."

"So I understand from Mr. Cane himself. I absolve you from fortune-hunting, since you knew nothing of Lady Staunton's intentions. But do you think it was quite fair of her to leave the money away from her own family?"

"That is rather a difficult question to put to the man who has benefited, Mr. Enistor. And let me remind you that by marrying Alice I bring back the fortune to your family."

"I think not. Your wife benefits, but I don't."

"Both Alice and I are prepared to be your bankers," said Montrose uneasily.

"To give me what is rightfully my own," retorted the Squire, with a curling lip. "Thank you for nothing. No, that won't do. Until my sister met you it was always her intention to leave the money to me, to restore the position of our family in the county. I want the fortune you hold to myself, as I am a poor man. It is not for a base ambition that I seek the income, but for the sake of going into Parliament and helping to govern. I want power, I want a great sphere to work in. Without money I am condemned to stay in this cramped neighbourhood eating out my heart."

"I quite understand that with such ambitions you feel the need of money, Mr. Enistor, and with Alice's permission I am willing to give you any reasonable sum you desire to forward your aims."

Enistor did not appear to be overcome by this generous offer, or even thankful for the same. "I take nothing as a gift and I claim my rights."

"The whole fortune of your sister?"

"Certainly! She ought to have willed it to me."

"I understood from Alice that you were quite agreeable that Lady Staunton should do what she wished with her own," said Montrose slowly.

"I don't tell Alice everything, Montrose. I accepted my small legacy and said nothing about the matter, as there was nothing to be done until you came. Now," Enistor fixed his dominating gaze on Douglas, "I ask you to let me have the money by deed of gift. In return you shall marry Alice."

"And what are we to live on?"

"I shall allow you five hundred a year."

"In return for five thousand." Montrose laughed at the boldness of the demand. "No, sir. I cannot do what you ask."

"Then you are a fortune-hunter after all," said the Squire bitterly.

"I am not!" Douglas sprang to his feet with the hot blood making red his cheeks. "So far as I am personally concerned I don't care for money, although I don't deny that I am glad my days of poverty are over. But this money has been given to me in trust to help others. I cannot be false to my trust."

Enistor waved his hand disdainfully. "That is only a young man's talk. Why should you help others? Let them look after themselves."

"I think differently. Dr. Eberstein has taught me differently."

"Dr. Eberstein," said the other with a sneer, "is a visionary. If you are to be my son-in-law you must allow me to advise you."

"I have always acted on my own responsibility during life," said Montrose sharply, "and I shall continue to do so. Dr. Eberstein knows so much about things not of this world that I am always glad to hear what he has to say."

"And do what he tells you."

"Certainly, in things which have to do with my spiritual welfare. But as regards earthly affairs I take my own way. Still, I admit," ended the young man frankly, "that in this instance Eberstein advises me to keep the money."

"Naturally! He can do what he likes with you and the money will be useful to him and his ambitions."

The taunt was so puerile that it failed to disturb Montrose. "Eberstein has no ambition save to do good, and is rich enough to execute his plans without aid from me. He cannot do what he likes with me, as you think, although I am always willing to take his advice, which is of the best. I am not a child, Mr. Enistor, but one who has gained experience through bitter trials. I may add that Eberstein's teaching inculcates self-reliance and individual judgment, so that each man may learn to stand alone."

"He is a dreamer as you are. However I care nothing for him or his teaching in any way. You have heard my conditions. Surrender the fortune to me and you marry my daughter: otherwise you must leave my house and never see Alice again. I give you three days in which to make up your mind."

"I make it up now," said Montrose, resolute but calm. "The money I have, and the money I keep. With or without your consent Alice shall be my wife."

"As you please," replied the Squire, frigidly polite. "You have heard my determination, from which I shall not swerve. In three days we can talk about this subject again; meanwhile let things go on as usual." And the conversation terminated in what might be called an armed neutrality.

To remain in the house on such a footing was by no means palatable to a young hot-headed man as Douglas truly was. His first impulse was to leave Tremore and do battle with Enistor from a distance: his second to stay where he was and give Alice the safeguard of his presence. Should he depart it might be that Enistor could coerce the girl into obedience, thereby causing her unnecessary suffering. Montrose loved Alice too well to submit her to such sorrow, so he swallowed his pride and said nothing about the conversation. As he was sufficiently self-controlled to appear at his ease Alice had not the faintest idea of what had taken place. Perhaps if she had observed her father's sudden change towards her lover from geniality to chilly politeness she might have been enlightened. But the insolent conduct of Narvaez had made her nervously ill, and she was too languid to take much interest in any one or anything. So matters remained much as usual, although the visitor felt that the atmosphere of the big house was insistently menacing and sinister. Eberstein could have told him that the conditions heralded the breaking of a storm, but Eberstein, watchful and silent, stayed at Perchton, saying nothing, but thinking much.

Meanwhile Polwellin seethed with gossip. The first item had to do with the sudden illness of Hardwick, who was said to be dying. Every one regretted the news, as the artist was a favourite in the neighbourhood in which he had lived so long. The doctor from Perchton came to see the sick man, and Mr. Sparrow, always a help in time of trouble, visited the bedside. Hardwick was grateful to see them both, but was too weak to take much interest in either his body or his soul. He was simply fading out of life, and things of this world were losing their interest for the departing spirit.

The second item concerned the quarrel of Narvaez and Montrose, which had been reported by those who witnessed it, with many additions. It was freely stated that Montrose had threatened to murder the Spaniard for the insult offered to Miss Enistor, and the gossips said that if he did he would only be forestalling Job Trevel, who was equally bent upon "doing for the foreign gentleman." It puzzled the simple villagers to understand why Don Pablo should return to Miss Enistor, when he had left her to philander with Rose Penwin, and arrived at the conclusion that he was a bad lot. Nevertheless, because the stranger was rich and scattered his money freely, there were a few who spoke in his favour. But the majority were hostile, since the mere presence of Narvaez seemed to irritate those he was with into quarrelling, even though there was no cause to do so. Undoubtedly the man had an evil influence, and the inhabitants of Polwellin would not have been displeased to see this male Atê leave the place. Then Mr. Montrose could marry the Squire's daughter and Job could make Rose his wife, which would mean wedding festivities and plenty to eat and drink. In this way the gossips talked and the rumours grew, so that shortly the whole village was infected with uneasy fear as to what would happen. It seemed as though the influence of the dark house on the hill had descended upon Polwellin. Perhaps it had, and perhaps it had been guided in its descent by that man who dealt with supernatural things in the cottage which squatted like a toad amongst the heather.

To that same cottage Enistor repaired the next afternoon to keep his appointment. He found Narvaez, looking older and more withered than ever, crouching over the fire, moody, broken-up and peevish; altogether unlike his ordinary serene self. At the first glance the Squire decided that his master was quite helpless and sat down with a glow of pleasure to take the upper hand. It pleased him immensely to show Narvaez that he also had a will, that he also could bully, and that the former relationship was now reversed. All the latent cruelty in Enistor rose to the surface at the sight of his helpless tyrant. The late under-dog now intended to bite and worry as the top-dog had done.