A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance

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."

"He is supposed to be in love with me," said Alice, puzzled. "You know how he has bothered me, Julian."

"Oh, yes, I know. But there is Rose Penwin, you know, that fisherman's pretty daughter."

Alice turned to look at him in astonishment. "What about her?"

"Señor Narvaez has taken an unaccountable admiration for her since you departed for London."

"Unaccountable!" Miss Enistor's lip curled. "There is nothing unaccountable in any man admiring a pretty girl, and Rose is more than pretty!"

"She is," said Hardwick calmly. "Pretty is not the word to apply to a beautiful and stately woman such as Rose Penwin is."

"Brunhild or Brynhild – what do you call that Norse goddess you said you so admired until you met me?"

"I never admired any Norse goddess," said Hardwick, laughing. "I simply quoted Brynhild as a type. Yes, Rose Penwin is of that type, but I am not in love with her."

"Don Pablo is?"

"So I am given to understand from village gossip. You know I chatter frequently to the fishermen and their wives. Well, Don Pablo has been paying great attention to Rose; giving her presents and – "

"Does she accept his attentions?" interrupted Miss Enistor, astonished.

"Yes and no. She does in a way, as she wants to make Job Trevel jealous!"

"Job Trevel," said Alice thoughtfully; "to be sure! He is my foster-brother, Julian, as I told you how Dame Trevel brought me up. But I thought it was understood that Rose was to marry Job."

"Too thoroughly understood," said Julian dryly. "It seems that Job is so certain of Rose that he does not trouble to pay her those pretty attentions which a lover should. Thus, to make him jealous, Rose pretends to accept the attentions of Don Pablo."

"That old mummy. He can't even feel love."

"No! I agree with you there, and I am puzzled to know what his game is. Why should an old man of eighty run after a girl of nineteen?"

"He ran after me and bothered me enough, as you know," said Alice in a thoughtful manner. "He must be mad. Yet I do not think a madman would or could exercise such an influence over my father. However, Job can scarcely be jealous of Señor Narvaez, who might be Rose's great-grandfather."

"He is jealous, however. Don Pablo is wealthy and Rose likes pretty things, you know. She may not love the old reprobate: she could not. All the same the prospect of unlimited money – "

"Oh, nonsense!" broke in Alice vigorously, "she would not be so wicked. If I see anything of her treating Job badly I shall speak to her. I am very fond of my foster-brother even though he has a bad temper."

"All the worse for Don Pablo if he has," said Hardwick significantly. "Rose is playing with fire. Love on one hand, wealth on the other: which will she choose, do you think? I assure you, Alice, that there are the elements of a tragedy in these things."

"It may be all imagination on your part," said the girl after a pause, "and in any case, if Don Pablo now admires Rose, he will leave me alone, and my father will have no excuse to forbid my marrying Douglas."

Julian wrinkled his brow disapprovingly. "Isn't that a selfish way of looking at the matter?"

"It is! It is!" acknowledged Alice with sudden compunction. "Love does make one selfish, Julian."

"Yet love should have the opposite effect, my dear girl. You usually have such a high standard that it seems strange you should fall short of it in this way. But you have been with Amy, and although she is my own sister, even a short time in her company does harm. She is not bad – I don't mean that, Alice: but Amy is excessively selfish and she seems to have contaminated you in some way."

Alice grew scarlet, as never before had Julian dared to speak to her in this reproving style. Yet she felt that he was right, and took no offence. "I am glad you have said what you have said, Julian. I should not have spoken as I did. It was narrow and selfish, as you say. I must think of others even if love for Douglas fills my heart. I shall see Dame Trevel and Job and in some way I shall learn the truth. You may be sure that I shall do what I can to put matters right between Rose and Job."

Hardwick patted her hand. "That is spoken like the trump you are, Alice, my dear. I knew that you were not thinking of what you were saying. As you are in love, there is some excuse – "

"No! No! Don't weaken your good advice, Julian. There is no excuse for one to fall short of one's standard. Your warning has done me good. You are a dear kind boy, and if I had not met Douglas – "

"You would have loved me," ended Hardwick, smiling. "No, dear, don't deceive yourself. If we had married we should have been comrades, but never man and wife in the true spiritual sense. The marriage made in heaven is the only true marriage. You said something of that sort when you refused me. How entirely right you were, Alice!"

The girl looked at him with a whimsical look in her eyes and wondered at his simplicity. "What a child you are, Julian. Nine women out of ten would take offence at such a cool assurance that your love for me has perished."

"Probably," returned Julian composedly, "nine women out of ten are dogs in the manger, but you, my dear Alice, are the tenth. I shall be glad to see Montrose. Tell me all about him."

"That is difficult," said Miss Enistor absently, "let me think for a moment."

Julian could not see why it should be difficult for a young girl in the first delicious phase of a perfect passion to talk to an intimate friend, such as he truly was, of her feelings. But he did not understand what was passing in Alice's mind. Her wooing was of so unusual a character, and had so much to do with psychic matters concerning which Hardwick knew nothing, that it was hard to explain the swift love which had drawn her and Douglas together. For one moment she hesitated, and the next decided not to speak. Julian would not understand, and she evaded a direct answer to his question by a truly feminine subterfuge. "I would rather you judged Douglas for yourself without looking at him through my eyes. He will be here in a few days and then you can give me your opinion."

"Well," said Julian in his usual stolid way, "perhaps you are right!" after which calm acceptance of the situation he became silent.

While the two young people had been talking, the car had pursued its way towards Tremore steadily and swiftly. Along the winding white roads it glided, with the spreading no-man's-land of purple heather on either side. How Alice loved it all; the vast moorlands sprinkled with grey blocks of granite; the tumbled steepness of black cliffs; the far-stretching spaces of the gleaming ocean and the life-giving winds that breathed across the limitless lands. For the moment she wondered how she had ever endured the narrow, muffling London streets, with their twice-breathed airs and garish lights. Like a thing of life the great car swung untiringly along, and the landscape widened out at every turn of the road. She felt as though she had come out of a stifling cavern into a spacious world, and flung out her hands in ecstatic greeting to the majesty of Nature. Reborn through love into a wider consciousness, the girl's seeing and hearing now embraced an appreciation of much to which she had been formerly deaf and blind. Sound seemed sweeter, colour more vivid and life dearer. There was a feeling of spring in the autumnal air, and Alice felt that she wished to dance and sing and generally rejoice out of sheer lightheartedness.

"I am made one with Nature," she exclaimed, thrilling to the beauty of land and sea. "Doesn't Shelley say something like that in 'Adonais'?"

"I never read poetry," replied Julian stolidly. "To my mind poets only say in many words what a journalist says in few."

"What a pagan sentiment," cried Miss Enistor gaily, "and how untrue. Oh, there is Tremore!"

Assuredly it was, and the grey house looked more sinister than ever in the pale sunshine. It placed its dark spell on Alice, for as the motor-car breasted the hill, her gay spirits left her and she became as pale as hitherto she had been rosy. With wonderment and regret Julian saw again the wan girl who had left for London weeks before, and anxiously inquired if she felt ill.