CHAPTER XXIII
THE ETERNAL STRIFE
For three days Enistor lingered on, fighting inch by inch for his life with obstinate courage. The doctor told him that there was no hope, but he declined to believe in such croakings. With all his pride and all his will he resisted the coming dissolution of his body, and therefore lived much longer than would have been the case had he been of a less resolute nature. Night and day Alice and the housekeeper nursed him by turns, and he seemed grateful for their attentions, although he said very little to either. Montrose wished to see the dying man and a.s.sure him of forgiveness, but Enistor declined an interview. Narvaez-Hardwick also called with feigned expressions of regret, but was forced to depart without seeing the man his wickedness had brought so low. As to Dr.
Eberstein, he took lodgings in the village, so as to be at hand at the last moment, and waited patiently for a summons to the bedside.
"It will come," he a.s.sured Montrose. "It will surely come, since the last act of this terrible drama has to be played by all who have taken part in it, with the exception of Hardwick, who has done his share and pa.s.sed over. But you and Alice and Narvaez and I have to face Enistor."
"For what purpose?"
The doctor answered rather irrelevantly. "The extension of Enistor"s life beyond what is natural, considering his injuries, is not permitted without a good reason. The poor creature is taking part in a tremendous struggle between the little good he has in him, and the enormous quant.i.ty of evil which, through ignorance, he has acc.u.mulated in this and other lives. I am trying constantly to increase that good, while Narvaez is putting forth all his wicked power to strengthen the evil."
"Who will win, you or Narvaez?" asked Montrose abruptly.
"Only G.o.d knows the issue of the conflict, my son, since Enistor, having free-will, can choose either the good or the bad, the Left-hand Path or the Right-hand Path. You were given the same choice in another way, but with you the Power of Love prevailed. Whether it will prevail with this miserable man depends upon himself."
"But cannot you tell, Master? You know so much."
"I know much, but I do not know all. G.o.d alone is omniscient. Did not one of your poets say: "We mortal millions live alone"? That is a great truth greatly put. Each soul must find G.o.d for itself through Christ by the power of the Holy Ghost. It can be helped and instructed by those who, like myself, are humble servants of the Most High, but the soul alone can choose whether to rise or fall. I tell you, Montrose, much as Enistor suffers physically, he is infinitely more tormented mentally.
Night and day, and day and night, the strife continues between evil and good, in which Narvaez and I take part. Only Enistor can elect which side will win."
"Can I not help?" asked the young man, distressed at the terrible plight of his whilom enemy.
"You have helped--helped greatly. Enistor is constantly trying to understand why you saved him, when he could have, and would have, condemned you to a shameful and unmerited death. It is well nigh impossible for him to grasp such self-abnegation, but the positive fact that you acted as you did is the spar to which he clings, and which prevents him from sinking in the troubled waters of evil desires which Narvaez is bringing up against him."
"Why don"t you smash Narvaez?"
"That would be against the law of justice. Narvaez has his rights, as every one else has. If he chooses to abuse those rights he will bring destruction on himself, as he is surely doing. Hate only ceases by love, so all that I can do is to offer Narvaez the a.s.sistance which he refuses to take. With my greater powers, poured through me for selfless ends by the G.o.d of All, I could use force and render him harmless. But such force would mean employment of the power of Hate. The influence is always the same in its essence, but becomes good or evil as we employ it."
"Still, if you ended Don Pablo"s wickedness, Enistor would be saved."
"I cannot tell. But he cannot be saved at the cost of injustice to Narvaez, my son. By his own acts in this life and others he has placed himself in the power of Narvaez, and must abide by his choice."
"Still he may want to escape?"
"If so, and I truly hope that such will be the case, he has only to open his heart to the incoming of Christ, and the Mighty Power of the Blessed One will sweep away Narvaez like a straw. Love is stronger than evil, and must prevail when election is made to use it. Now go, my son, for even now the Son of Perdition is putting forth his strength to overwhelm the soul, and I must withstand him. Pray constantly, my child, and tell Alice to pray; for the fight is desperately bitter."
Without a word Montrose departed, leaving Eberstein to wrestle with the Powers of Darkness. Seeking Alice, he brought her to the altar of the parish church, and there they remained kneeling for many hours. It was well that they fled for refuge to the tabernacle of G.o.d, for within all was light, and the Dark Powers halted at the door, helpless, fierce and furious, and--baffled.
During those days of the struggle Montrose"s worldly position had been made secure. The confession of Rose, who had seen Narvaez murdered, proved beyond all doubt that Job Trevel was the culprit. That man never returned now or thereafter, and it could only be conjectured that he had been lost at sea in the storm which took place when the crime was committed. But Montrose was fully exonerated, and in their rough way the villagers of Polwellin apologised for their wrongful suspicions. He more than regained the place he had lost in their affections, for the coastguards had told everywhere how the Squire had been rescued and at what a cost. That Enistor should have been saved at all was a matter of regret to his tenants, who detested him for his many acts of oppression.
Throughout the village there was not heard one pitying word for the man now at the point of death, so doubtless this feeling of ill-will also tormented Enistor in his then sensitive state. But as the man had sown, so the man had to reap, and by his own acts he was condemned to a punishment which went far to excuse his wickedness.
In reply to Alice"s telegram Mrs. Barrast came down to see the last of her brother and was desperately annoyed to find--as she thought--that he had completely recovered. Of course for his own ends Narvaez-Hardwick played the part of a grateful brother, and to get rid of the little woman he gave her a handsome cheque out of the property he had acquired.
That the same had merely been transferred from Narvaez to Narvaez was a fact not known to Mrs. Barrast, who quite believed--and very naturally--that Julian had been cured in some miraculous way of his illness by the Perchton doctor. What that gentleman himself thought no one ever knew, as he held his tongue very wisely, through sheer inability to explain matters. But his practice benefited greatly, and he made full use of his enhanced reputation. Mrs. Barrast thanked him for the wonder he had wrought, said that she would mention his skill to her friends and send them to Perchton for treatment. Then she went across the Channel with Frederick to spend the handsome cheque in Paris and did not trouble any further about her brother. Which was just what the individual masquerading in that brother"s body desired. Hardwick"s sister was such a trifling little b.u.t.terfly that it was not worth while breaking her on a wheel. Even if, out of sheer malicious amus.e.m.e.nt, the magician had wished to do so, he had no time. All his energies were taken up in fighting the strong power of Eberstein for the soul of his escaping slave. The adversaries came to grips on the night of the fourth day after Montrose had wiped out his sin by the rescue of his enemy.
After dinner on that evening, Alice and her lover were waiting in the library, feeling sorrowful and depressed. The young man was seated in an arm-chair before the fire and Alice, on the hearth-rug, inclined her dark head against his knees. Having watched throughout the previous night by the bedside, she had slept all day, and now was giving her whole attention to Douglas before returning to her new vigil in the sick-room. Neither of the two was speaking, as the shadow of evil lay thicker and blacker than ever on the house, and there was a feeling still more terrible in the air. Montrose felt little of such things, cased as he was in less sensitive flesh; but Alice was alive to battling forces, invisible and menacing, which thrilled her soul with agony and helpless grief.
"Death is here," she said at length, without removing her gaze from the burning logs, and Montrose knew enough of her clairvoyant powers not to exclaim at the weird remark.
"Do you think he will die to-night?" he asked, looking nervously round the brilliantly lighted room.
"I think so. Something dreadful is coming nearer and nearer. Very cold, very powerful, yet very merciful."
Montrose shuddered and recalled a play by Maeterlinck which he had read some years back. The atmosphere of the library was exactly that suggested by "L"Intruse," and he felt, as did the characters in that wonderful piece of writing, that the being with the scythe was about to enter the door. When a sharp knock came, his shaken nerves extorted a start and a cry. But it was only the housekeeper who came to announce that she wanted Alice to take up the watch by Enistor"s bedside and also to tell both the young people that two gentlemen had arrived simultaneously at Tremore.
"Mr. Hardwick and Dr. Eberstein," said the housekeeper.
"Tell them to come in," replied Alice quietly, in marked contrast to her lover, who started to his feet much perturbed.
"Why do they come together?" he asked uneasily. "They have never met before to my knowledge."
"It is the beginning of the end, Douglas!"
"They then bring death with them?"
"Senor Narvaez brings death and Dr. Eberstein brings life," said Alice, still in the unemotional tone which she had used throughout. "But not in a physical way, you understand. Hush! Here they are."
The two men entered quietly: Narvaez, splendid and strong in the beauty of his stolen body, and Eberstein, elderly, grey-haired, and weary-looking. But Alice, looking through the masks of flesh, saw that they lied. Eberstein was the ever-young, glorious soul, radiant with immortal life, and Narvaez but a black evil shadow, distorted and venomous. Outwardly the magician resembled Milton"s fallen archangel, magnificently sinful, while the doctor, like his Great Master the Man of Sorrows, seemed to bear the burden of other people"s sins. Here indeed were the representatives of the eternal strife, the types of Heaven and h.e.l.l, bearing the cross and the wine-cup. And the world-battle on a smaller scale was about to be fought out between them. As Alice greeted the one and the other, the housekeeper turned at the door to speak.
"The Squire knows that Dr. Eberstein and Mr. Hardwick have come, miss, as I told him. He would like to see them along with you and Mr.
Montrose. But I don"t think it is wise, miss."
"You can go," said the girl quietly, and the housekeeper departed, grumbling at the risk of visitors to the sick man. "Shall we see my father now?"
She addressed Eberstein, who bowed, for the situation was too tense for the use of many words. But Narvaez spoke with an insolent smile. "I hope Mr. Enistor will not be the worse for my coming."
"I think he will be very much the worse, Don Pablo."
"I am your dear friend, Julian Hardwick," sneered the magician.
"I know better."
"Clever girl. But you do not know all," he taunted.
"Enough to be aware that you are an evil man, exercising more than human power. Also Dr. Eberstein has recalled to my recollection what I saw during the trance. I know who you are, Senor Narvaez, and what you are.
With me you cannot masquerade as an angel of light."
"I leave that role to our friend here," scoffed the other with a shrug.
Eberstein did not take the slightest notice. With Narvaez he was very watchful, but intensely quiet: always on his guard, but never offering the fuel of words to kindle useless argument. And time being precious at the moment, he softly intimated to Alice that it would be as well to seek the bedroom immediately. Without objection the girl led the way, and shortly the whole party were in the presence of the Squire.
Enistor lay in bed, propped up with many pillows. Other than a shaded lamp on a small table beside him, there was no illumination save the crimson glimmer of the fire, so that the room was filled with a kind of artificial twilight, sinister and eerie. It was a large apartment furnished in that heavy c.u.mbersome style prevalent during the first half of the last century, eminently comfortable but markedly inartistic. The green rep curtains of the bed were looped back to show the white suffering face and sunken eyes of the sick man, on whom the gaze of the quartette was centred. The silence was intense; as the rain had ceased, the wind had died away, and only the heavy breathing of those present, or the fall of a burning coal, broke the stillness. This calm before the storm suggested itself to Alice as much more terrible than the storm itself could possibly be. It seemed as though the whole of creation waited anxiously to hear what choice the dying man would make between evil and good. The words came slowly from him, as he fixed his weary eyes on Montrose with wondering inquiry.
"Why did you save my life?" he asked.
"I was sorry for you."
"Sorry for one who intended to have you hanged for a crime you did not commit. Impossible!"