A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance

Montrose agreed. "When I first came here I felt that it was a kind of battle-ground, full of tumult and war."

"And so it is. Invisible forces of good and evil strive here continuously as I can feel. You sense them also, Alice, as you are more or less clairvoyant."

"Yes, I know," admitted the girl, with a nervous glance round the room. "And the evil is stronger than the good, I fancy."

"At present that is the case. But we must change the conditions and make this house a centre of holy power to bless instead of curse."

"You will have to keep Narvaez out of the place then," observed Douglas abruptly. "And that will be difficult, as he is a friend of the Squire's."

"Quite so," said Eberstein calmly. "I came here to aid Mr. Enistor, as well as to help you and Alice. He is being wrongly guided by Narvaez."

As if the mention of his name had evoked his presence, the Squire made his appearance unexpectedly. He did not look pleased, as Don Pablo had refused to see him, for the first time during their acquaintanceship. Enistor therefore returned in a somewhat gloomy frame of mind, but smoothed his brow and assumed his company manners when he greeted the doctor. He knew well enough that his guest was "The Adversary" so often mentioned by Narvaez, but knew also how the Law of Love which Eberstein obeyed prevented hostile treatment. He therefore felt safe and indeed rather contemptuous, since he was unfettered by scruples himself, and did not care what means he employed against the aims of the doctor, whatever they might be. Yet the downfall of Narvaez on the previous night should have warned him against over-confidence, and would have done so had not the man been so besotted with intellectual pride. Eberstein knew of this Satanic attitude, but gave no sign of his knowledge beyond a pitying glance at Enistor's powerful face when they shook hands.

"You have a beautiful place here," he remarked lightly. "I was just admiring the position when you came in."

"It is well enough, but a trifle lonely," said the Squire rather ungraciously. "Still, I can amuse you by showing our family treasures, which are many. How do you feel, Alice?" he asked, turning abruptly to his daughter, and anxiously wondering if she was aware of the information she had given on the previous night. "I hope you are better."

"Oh, I am quite well now, father. Dr. Eberstein has done me good."

"I have an excellent bedside manner," interposed Eberstein quickly, as he did not wish Alice to explain too much. "And I have cheered up Miss Enistor."

"That is well. She had a fit of the blues last night, and would not listen to what I had to say to her in the library."

"Señor Narvaez was there and he always makes me uncomfortable," protested the girl in a troubled way.

"You are full of fancies, Alice," retorted Enistor in an acid tone. "And as Narvaez had fainted you might have remained to help me. However, it was just as well you retired to bed and slept for such a long time, as you were not quite yourself last night. Well," he added with an assumption of benevolence, "as Montrose was away from you, it was natural you should feel dismal. Ah, these young men, doctor: they steal the hearts of our children."

"And exhibit no shame in doing so," said Eberstein humorously. "Cupid was ever a robber, Mr. Enistor."

Then the gong thundered an invitation to luncheon, which proved to be a truly delightful meal. Alice, with her recovered strength, was filled with the joy of life, and Douglas, seeing her in such good spirits, was very merry in his turn. As to the doctor, he made himself so entertaining in talking of all that was going on in the great world that Enistor unbent considerably, and silently acknowledged that The Adversary was better company than Narvaez. By the end of the meal, both Squire and doctor were on the best of terms. Not for many a long day had such gaiety reigned at Tremore.

After luncheon Alice and Douglas stole away after the fashion of lovers who desire solitude to express their feelings freely. Enistor was left alone to entertain his guest, and conducted the doctor to the library, to show him certain black-letter folios which were of great antiquity and great value. Eberstein, charmed with the treasures of the library and with the spacious room, revealed himself to be no mean judge of books and furniture and ancient manuscripts. More than ever Enistor felt that this debonair gentleman was not to be feared and became uncommonly friendly with him.

"I wish you would come and stay here for a week, doctor," he said impulsively. "It is such a pleasure to meet any one so well read and well informed on all subjects as you are."

"You flatter me," responded the doctor cordially. "I should be delighted to accept your invitation, and may do at a later date. Meanwhile, I have business which detains me in Perchton for a short time. But you have the society of Señor Narvaez," he added, with a keen glance. "And I hear from Mr. Hardwick, whom I met yesterday, that he is most entertaining."

"Hardly the word to be used," said Enistor composedly, and wondering why the reference was made. "He is learned and serious."

"I don't see why learning need necessarily involve seriousness. Knowledge should make one happy, and happiness shows itself in gaiety."

Enistor, fidgeting with a parchment, frowned. "Do you think that knowledge should make one happy?"

"Why not, if the knowledge be rightly applied?"

"In what way?"

"To help others less learned."

"Why should it be?" demanded Enistor defiantly.

"Why should it not be?" countered the doctor swiftly. "What is the use of hiding one's light under a bushel?"

"That is a strange sentiment from you, doctor. It implies vanity, as if you wished others to see and envy your light. Well, I suppose that would be a source of gratification to any one."

"It is but a narrow mind that finds gratification in possessing what another person lacks. You will find the explanation of my real meaning in saying what surprises you in the text: 'Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.' It is the Father who does the works, and the Father therefore should surely receive the praise."

"Who is the Father?"

"In the greater sense God, in the minor degree The Ego, which is a part of God. Through the minor power the greater power works, and to Him be the glory, Mr. Enistor. I daresay you know something of these things."

"I know a great deal," said the Squire in a proud tone, "but I do not interpret them as you do. If I do anything I take the praise to myself. It is I who do it, not this Father, big or little, you talk about."

Eberstein quoted solemnly: "Thou couldst have no power at all against Me, except it were given thee from above."

"That is from the Bible, I take it," said Enistor scornfully. "Well, you see, I don't believe in the Bible. It is a series of old documents filled with contradictions and mistakes and impossibilities."

"Ah, you think so because you read the letter and do not understand the spirit. If you were not so limited you would comprehend the true meaning of the contradictions and mistakes which puzzle you."

"They don't puzzle me," retorted the other resentfully. "Such rubbish is not worth puzzling about. And I am not limited in any way."

"Ah. Then your knowledge is as wide as that of – shall we say Narvaez?"

"No. But then he is an older man and has had more time to study. But I am learning swiftly."

"And the personality you know as Squire Enistor of Tremore is taking all that learning to use for its own ends."

"Why not, when such personality is myself?"

"The lower self: all the self you know," corrected Eberstein serenely.

"What other self is there?"

"The Greater Self: that spark of God, which is you – the Eternal You. Bring your learning to That, Enistor, and you will become One with the Great Father through Christ the Son by the influence of the Holy Ghost."

"Well, if I am that Greater Self, as you say, I work for myself, and therefore deserve praise for my work and the reward also."

"You work only for the limited self which you know. You are not aware of your Greater Self, because it is veiled from you. All you are doing at present is to thicken those veils instead of thinning them. Are you not aware that God is the One manifesting Himself in us, the Many? We are all striving to return to Him, the source of our Being. This being the case, through life after life we have to widen our limitations, so that instead of knowing ourselves as man – as you do – we come to know ourselves as gods, one with the Great God, yet individualised for His holy purpose. Why do you seek to limit your powers, to circumscribe your knowledge?"

"What rubbish you talk, doctor," cried the Squire, opening his eyes in genuine amazement. "Why, I am trying hard to increase my knowledge and gain power."

"Power for yourself," said Eberstein quickly, "and by so doing you are narrowing your circle of action. By giving, you widen out to the consciousness of the Deity: by taking, you build yourself a little hut in which you sit as a very shabby little god."

"But Narvaez has powers you do not dream of."

"I know more about Narvaez than you think, Mr. Enistor. He is doing in a much greater degree what you are striving to do in a smaller way under his misguided instruction. Was not the warning given last night in this very room enough to shake your faith in his powers?"

The Squire started back frowning. "You know what took place?"

"Of course I know, and you know that I know. Come, Enistor, let us talk freely, for I want to help you, and you need more help than you dream of. Narvaez calls me The Adversary, and so I am: not so much adverse to you and him, as to your doings. Your spirit is one with my spirit, as is that of Narvaez', and I wish to aid that other part of myself to fight against the animal self which is trying to overpower it. The spirit cannot be harmed overmuch truly; but the soul can be made a slave to the senses."

"Have you come here to measure your strength against mine?" demanded Enistor in a furious manner.

Eberstein smiled. "If I put forth my strength against Narvaez, much less against you, the result would surprise you. But I act under the Law of Love, which gives every man free-will, and does not allow domination."

"Narvaez was dominated last night," admitted the Squire reluctantly. "Did you strike him down?"

"No. A Great Power struck him down in very mercy, as he was going too far, and it is hoped that the warning may turn him from his evil ways. He is my brother as well as you are, Enistor, and I wish to help you both."

"I don't want your help, unless you can make me rich and powerful."

"I could make you both, and you would use what I gave you to damn yourself yet deeper. Narvaez is dragging you down to the abyss into which he is surely descending. In Atlantis he lured you into his nets by promising to gratify your desire for personal power over men; by giving you wealth to pander to your animal passions. Life after life, as in Chaldea, he has made you more and more his slave by working through your senses."

"I am not a slave!" cried Enistor indignantly.

"Indeed you are. To Narvaez and to your own evil passions. You, who are a god in the making, obey him. Like Judas Iscariot he is a son of perdition and wishes to make you one also, because your intellect is useful to him. Again and again, in many lives, you have been helped in order that you may break away from this bondage; but you will not, and until of your own free will you elect to break away, nothing can be done to save you."

"Where is the boasted power of Christ?" sneered Enistor contemptuously.

"Poor soul, why blaspheme? Christ stands at the door of your heart waiting until you open the door. He does not enter unless He is invited, so how can He use what you call His boasted power, unless you will accept His aid. Humble yourself, Enistor. Say as did the prodigal son: 'Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.' Then you will learn how great is His mercy: how sweet His compassion."

"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 passion. 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 God 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 sunshine. 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 assured 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 passed 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 God, 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 Señor 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 shivered. "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. All the village knows how he's come between Job and his promised missus."

"He means well: he means well!" said Hardwick, rising and looking like an old and feeble man in spite of his great stature; "but perhaps he would be wise to leave Rose alone. Alice, will you give me your arm to my lodgings? I see that Dame Trevel can do me no good."

"I would if I could, my dear gentleman, but you're past the power of man to mend, as any one can see."

"Don't say that," cried Alice hastily, and helping Julian to the door. "It will be best for him to come to Tremore and let me nurse him. As to Rose Penwin I shall see Don Pablo."

"You'll do no good, dearie, and it ain't for the likes of you to go after so wicked a man."

"I shall appeal to his kind heart, as Mr. Hardwick says he has one. I want Job and Rose to be happy, so I shall ask Don Pablo to leave her alone to live out her life in Polwellin."

"I think if you put it to him in the right way he will," murmured Julian.

"If he don't, murder will come of it," said Mrs. Trevel wisely, and then stood at her door to see the artist being helped down the narrow street by Alice in a most tender manner. "Poor gentleman," thought the old woman, "there's death in his face, and such a fine figure of a man too. Him dying, and Rose taking jewels from that foreign beast, and my lad with murder in his heart – oh, it's a weary world."

All Alice's persuasions could not gain Julian's consent to go to Tremore to be nursed. But the girl could not bear to think of him dying in lonely lodgings, so she determined to write a letter to Mrs. Barrast and get her to visit Cornwall. Julian laughed at the idea.

"My dear, Amy won't come. And if she did she would only worry me. Let me die in peace. I can leave this world quite happy, as you are to marry such a good fellow as Montrose is. Oh, here we are. How lucky my sitting-room is on the ground floor, Alice, along with my bedroom. I don't think I am strong enough to climb stairs."