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."

"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."