A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance

"Enough for the day is the evil thereof," said Eberstein serenely, "and that also applies to the good. All is well with you as yet, so enjoy the passing moment and draw from peace the necessary strength for conflict. Gold must be refined in the fire, and you must both be cast into the furnace. Yet be not afraid. The same God who saved Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego will save you. You are neither of you afraid," he ended positively.

Arm in arm the lovers stood and they glanced at one another as the doctor spoke. "We are not afraid," they declared simultaneously, and spoke the truth.

"Behold then," said Eberstein solemnly, "how great is Love which can cast out fear!" and over them he made the holy sign.

CHAPTER X

IN CORNWALL

It was August when Alice returned home. As soon as her father learned that she had become engaged to Montrose, he sent for her. Now that the mouse had entered the trap there was no need for the girl to remain in London and spend money. Mrs. Barrast was sorry to lose the companionship of Miss Enistor, not only because she liked her as much as one of her shallow nature could like any one, but for a more selfish reason. With Alice departed Montrose, and although he did not go immediately down to Cornwall, he scarcely came near the house in Hans Crescent. Thus Mrs. Barrast was deprived of the many presents which she loved to receive. However, she had done very well, and made the best of her loss, since the girl's visit, because of Montrose's love-making, had not been unprofitable to her. Mrs. Barrast was very affectionate when Alice departed, and made her promise to return when she became Mrs. Douglas Montrose. Alice readily consented, for though Amy was vain and selfish, yet the fact that the love-romance had taken place beneath her roof made the girl regard her as a most excellent friend. All the same she was not sorry to return to Cornwall, as she was weary of the frivolous London life.

In the railway train Alice became quite depressed. She was coming back to dreary Tremore, to her father's uncongenial society, and perhaps to the unpleasant attentions of Don Pablo. But on this latter point she was reassured by her father's letter. Although he had not quite consented to the marriage with Montrose, and would not consent until he had seen the young man, yet, in the face of his half-approval, he certainly would not allow her to be troubled by Don Pablo. Certainly the Spaniard had great influence with the squire of Polwellin, and might not be inclined to surrender the girl whom he desired to make his wife. But Douglas, as Alice reflected, would soon be on the spot, and he would deal with Narvaez, if the old man became troublesome. On the whole, therefore, even though matters were a trifle unsettled, Alice concluded that the new life would be better than the old. At all events she would not be quite so lonely, and that was something. Of course Dr. Eberstein had predicted trouble, but also he had agreed to come down when the trouble arrived. This comforted the girl not a little, as she had the greatest confidence in Montrose's friend. Why, she could scarcely say, as she knew next to nothing about him. But his mere look, let alone the touch of his hand, was enough to make her feel strangely brave and happy. If Don Pablo was all evil, Dr. Eberstein was all good. Yet why one should be this and the other that, Alice could not tell. Doubtless, as Douglas had suggested, Eberstein could have enlightened both on this point. But he had not done so, and beyond warning them that they could count upon his help in the trouble which was surely coming, he had said very little. Therefore, these two young people had to walk by faith, and very bravely did so.

At Perchton, which was the nearest station to Polwellin, Alice quite expected to find her father waiting for her, since, little as he loved her, he must surely be anxious to see how she looked after her long absence. But Mr. Enistor was not on the platform, and Alice with a rather forlorn feeling alighted from her compartment. In London she had grown accustomed to love and attention, so the neglect of the present moment brought on her depression again. But that vanished in a trice when a strong hand took the small bag she was carrying, and a strong voice sounded in her ears.

"Here you are at last," said Julian brightly. "I have been waiting for nearly an hour, Alice."

"Oh, Julian!" she took his hand, to press it warmly. "I am so glad you are here. I was feeling quite dismal because father has not come to meet me."

"I thought you would be. Yesterday I asked him if he intended to come to Perchton, but as he said that he had no time I came in his stead."

"And left your painting. How good of you."

"Not at all. We are brother and sister, are we not?"

"I don't think many brothers would take so much trouble to be kind to their sisters," said Alice brightly. "Did father send the carriage?"

"No. One of the horses is laid up. But a friend of mine has a motor, so I made him lend it to take you to Tremore. Where is your baggage?"

"Oh, I must look for it in the van and get a porter and – "

"You'll do nothing of the sort," interrupted Hardwick quickly, "go and sit in the motor; there it is. I can see to your boxes. How many?"

"Two large and one small," said Alice, and gladly settled herself in the very comfortable vehicle, while Julian went back into the station.

Shortly he returned with a porter and the boxes were duly placed on the motor. Julian stepped in beside the girl, and a word to the chauffeur sent the splendid machine humming down the narrow street like a giant bee. Then the two had time to look at one another, and Julian approved of the girl's appearance. Love had made her blossom like a rose. She was less ethereal than she had been, and the sad look on her delicate face had vanished. Also, as Mrs. Barrast had attended to her frocks, and had introduced her to Madame Coralie, the girl was singularly smart and attractive as regards clothes. A smile was on Julian's face as he looked at her.

"You went away a duckling and you return a swan," he said.

"Oh, what a doubtful compliment," said Alice gaily; "am I then, or rather was I, an ugly duckling?"

"No, my dear, you were never an ugly duckling, but what I mean is that you have turned from a fairy into a pretty nymph."

"That is better," said Miss Enistor graciously, as the motor whizzed out of the town and began to climb the long winding road to the moors. "You are improving, Julian. But you don't ask me how I have enjoyed myself."

"There is no need. Your appearance speaks for you."

Alice laughed. "Do you think that my looks are due simply to a short season of pleasure in London?"

"Well, not exactly," rejoined Hardwick in his stolid way; "in fact, seeing that you have been staying with Amy, I expected you to look more fagged than you do. Amy makes a toil of pleasure and is certainly a very wearing woman to live with."

"She is a dear," said Miss Enistor warmly, "and has been most kind. But you are right about her feverish pursuit of pleasure," she said, with an after-thought. "Amy never rests!"

"And never lets any one else rest, which is worse," said Julian grimly; he looked at her sideways. "Yes! Mere London pleasure cannot account for your happy looks. Well, let me know who he is!"

"Let you know who he is?" repeated Alice, blushing and looking prettier than ever, "do you mean – "

"I think you know what I mean. You are in love at last."

Like a woman Alice did not reply directly to the remark. "Are you very angry, Julian?" she asked, laying a timid hand on his arm.

"My dear, I am not angry at all. We are brother and sister, you know. Long ago I discovered that you were right as to my proposal and I was wrong. All that I could do for you was to accept the situation of your future husband if Don Pablo insisted upon marrying you. But I presume I can now resign that position," ended Hardwick gravely.

"He is called Douglas Montrose," said Alice, still evasive.

"A very pretty name for Prince Charming. Yes, your father mentioned to me that the young man had written to him, and he also mentioned that Montrose is the fortunate person who has inherited Lady Staunton's money. So Amy got her own way, as I knew she would. An inveterate matchmaker is Amy."

Alice opened her eyes widely. "Did you guess then?"

"Not so much guess as know," replied Hardwick composedly. "Amy wrote about her desire that you should become Mrs. Montrose."

"And you?"

"I was pleased, of course. Amy told me how deeply you loved the man."

"She could not tell that for certain," pouted Alice doubtfully.

"I am not so sure of that. Women are proverbially clever and shrewd in anything that has to do with love-making. However, it seems she was right: your bright eyes and crimson cheeks tell me as much."

"I may as well confess that I love Douglas," admitted Alice boldly, "and he loves me. Already we have asked father's consent to our marriage."

"He will give it without doubt, Alice. It is a happy way of getting back the lost money."

"Oh the money! the money!" she cried petulantly; "you talk just as Amy talks, Julian. As if I cared for money. I love Douglas, and if he were a pauper I would marry him. And my father has not jumped at the chance of getting back the money, as you seem to think. He won't say yes and he won't say no."

"He must say something," remarked Julian, with a shrug.

"Nothing. He refuses to give his decision until he knows more about Douglas."

Hardwick nodded. "That is natural and sensible. So the young man is coming to Tremore to be put through his paces?"

"How clever of you to guess that. He is – in a few days. Oh, how anxious I feel, Julian. So much depends upon my father."

"He will consent, I am sure, Alice. With such a disposition as you have, you could choose no one but a really good man for your husband."

Alice laughed a trifle bitterly, which was strange considering her prospects and happy state of mind. "Goodness or badness matter very little when one is in love, Julian. And they do not matter at all to my father so long as I marry a rich man. It is a good thing for me that Douglas has plenty of money, for only in that way will things run smoothly for both of us. Otherwise I feel certain that my father would still insist upon my marrying Don Pablo."

"Humph!" said Hardwick meditatively. "The question is, 'Would Don Pablo marry you?' my dear girl."