THE PROPHECY
From the hilltop where Alice and her rejected lover had conversed, the
house called Tremore could be plainly seen in its grey nakedness. But on
the other side, in front and at the back, it was screened from the salt
Atlantic winds by a dismal wood of stone-pines, yews, cypress-trees and
giant cedars, planted by various Enistors in the long-distant past, when
they had first set up their tent on the waste moorland. The gloomy
disposition of the race could be seen, not only in the funereal types of
trees chosen for sheltering the mansion, but in the grim look of the
mansion itself. Never was there so dreary a place.
Tremore means "great dwelling" in the Celtic tongue, but the name could
only apply to this particular house from the unusual space of ground it
covered, since it was only one storey high. Built of untrimmed granite
blocks and roofed with dull hued slates, it stretched in a narrow line
towards the rear of the hill on which it stood. Here it divided into two
other narrow lines, forming on the whole the exact shape of the letter
"Y." One of the forks contained the kitchen, the servants' sleeping
apartments and the domestic offices: the other held the bedrooms of the
gentry, while the main stem of the letter was made up of drawing-room,
library, sitting-room and dining-room. It was an odd place quaintly
planned and curiously built: but then the Enistors were odd people.
One markedly strange thing amongst others was the absence of vegetation
about the house, since nothing would grow near it. Flowers were
conspicuous by their absence, turf was wanting, and not even weeds would
flourish. The very trees stood aloof in sulky darkness, leaving the
building isolated in an arid space of beaten earth. There it stood on
the bare ground with its heavy porch, its thick walls and many small
windows, bleak in its nakedness for want of draping ivy. True enough
there was a kitchen-garden and a small orchard at the back, beyond the
screen of trees, which flourished tolerably, but round the house
greenery was wanting, as if the place was cursed. Perhaps it was, as the
Enistors had borne a sinister reputation for generations. But whatever
the reason might be, Tremore might have been built in the desert from
the way in which it lay like a sullen snake on the barren earth. And a
two-headed snake at that, like some demon of a fairy tale.
The interior of this undesirable mansion was desperately gloomy, as all
the rooms were small with low ceilings, and for the most part panelled
with black oak dull and unpolished. The kitchen and servants' rooms were
more agreeable, as here Mr. Enistor had conformed to modern ideas of
cheerfulness so far as to paper and tile the walls brightly. But his own
particular portion of the house he would not allow to be touched, and
although it was comfortable enough, it was decidedly depressing, with
its sombre tints and stuffy atmosphere. Often did Alice leave its dark
chambers and its dismal surroundings to breathe freely on the vast
spaces of the moors. East and West and North and South stretched the
treeless lands, covered with heather and dangerous with the shafts of
worked-out mines. The village of Polwellin below belonged to the
Enistors, and over it and its inhabitants the present head of the old
family exercised a feudal sway. But beyond this particular collection of
dwellings, containing one hundred people, more or less, there was no
house or hamlet for some leagues. Perchton, a watering-place haunted by
artists, was the nearest town, and that was ten miles distant. Tremore
would have suited a misanthrope, but it was not a place wherein Alice
cared to live. She was young and inclined to mix with her fellow
creatures, but never did any chance come by which she could enter
society. It was no wonder that the girl was peaked and pining, and could
see things invisible to the ordinary person. Isolation was unhealthy for
one of her temperament.
Seated at the heavy mahogany table, whence, in old-fashioned style, the
cloth had been removed for dessert, Alice almost regretted that she
had not accepted Hardwick's proposal to remove her from such sad
surroundings. The dull carved panelling of the walls, the sombre family
portraits, the cumbersome furniture, together with the lowness of the
ceiling and the limited space of the room, stifled her and depressed her
spirits to such a degree that she could scarcely eat. Mr. Enistor and
Don Pablo--the latter dined at Tremore on this particular night--were in
accurate evening dress, and the whole apartment bore an aspect of
good-breeding and stately ceremonial. The host was attached to the
customs of his ancestors, and his meals were always served with quite
royal etiquette. And by the light of the many wax candles in silver
holders which illuminated the room--Mr. Enistor would have nothing to do
with lamps--Alice looked curiously at the two men, whose want of
vitality, as she vaguely thought, drew the life-power from herself.
She was wrong as regarded her father, for Korah Enistor was a handsome,
healthy man in the prime of life, and had plenty of vitality in his
robust frame. He looked somewhat austere with his dark hair, scarcely
touched with white, his dark eyes and powerful face, which lacked colour
as much as her own did. Like Hardwick, the man resembled a soldier, as
he was tall and lean, well-built and active. Also, he possessed the
imperious manner of one accustomed to command men, and spoke in a slow
deliberate manner with compelling glances of his dark eyes. The most
casual observer would have noted that here was a strong personality
given to dominate rather than to obey. All the same, Alice noticed that
her strong-willed father pointedly deferred to Don Pablo Narvaez, in a
way which argued that he rendered _him_ obedience. It was strange that
she should entertain this idea seeing that the Spaniard was as frail as
Enistor was strong, and did not at all look like one who could, or
would, rule so aggressive a personality. This odd deference had puzzled
her on previous occasions, but to-night the feeling that her father was
thrall to Don Pablo was particularly strong.
A breath, she thought, could have blown the guest away like thistledown,
so frail and weak did he appear. What his age was she could not guess,
but conceived that he was an octogenarian. His scanty white hair, his
shrunken figure, his small wrinkled face, and the false teeth which
showed when he smiled, all favoured this belief. Don Pablo was like an
expiring flame, which the slightest breath might extinguish, and the
only thing, hinting to the girl's mind at enduring life, were his eyes.
These were of a brighter blue than her own, extraordinarily large and
piercing, so that few could bear their direct gaze. The idea entered
Alice's head at the moment that here was a bunch of blooming flowers in
a cracked vase of great age, or to be less fanciful, she told herself
that Narvaez had a weak body dominated by a powerful will which kept the
life intact. She could imagine him stepping out of that fragile shape,
and still be alive, more powerful and more vitalised in another. His
brain was clear, his speech was incisive, and always he used his
dominating eyes to compel all those he gazed at to surrender to the
spell of his powerful mind. There was something sinister about his
interior youthfulness and exterior senility.
The girl both hated and dreaded him. Being sensitive she was responsive
to influences which a coarser nature--say that of Hardwick--would never
feel. Don Pablo impressed her as something terrible in spite of his weak
looks. His frail body was only the jungle, as it were, that concealed
the tiger, and she could imagine him putting forth powers whose force
would shatter the aging tenement. What such powers might be she did not
know, as he revealed nothing of his dominating nature to her. But she
vaguely felt that what force he possessed was deadly evil, and would be
used for purely evil purposes. Therefore, warned instinctively by her
pure soul, she kept out of his way as much as possible. The stealthy
attempts of her father to bring youth and age together, Alice resisted
as best she could. But it was difficult to fight against two such
commanding natures, and all the time there was the insistent feeling of
being drawn into darkness. Alice often blamed herself for thinking in
this hostile way of her father, but could never get rid of her doubts.
It was firmly rooted in her mind that Narvaez and Enistor were dwelling
in an atmosphere of evil, which they wished to extend so as to include
herself. At the moment the pressure was particularly strong, and she
sighed with weariness as the invisible forces came up against her.
Hardly had the sound left her lips when Don Pablo glanced swiftly at his
host.
"You are tired, Alice," said Enistor, rising to open the door. "The heat
is oppressive to-night. Take a turn in the garden and you will feel
better. Is your head aching?"
"Yes, father," replied the girl almost inaudibly, and glided out of the
room like an unquiet ghost to seek the life-giving moorland air.
Her father returned to the table in his stately fashion, and poured
himself out a fresh glass of water. On the shining mahogany there were
no decanters of wine: only dishes of fruit, crystal jugs of water, and
the three empty coffee-cups. Neither Narvaez nor his host drank any
alcoholic liquor: they did not indulge in smoking and were extremely
temperate in eating. An ordinary man would have missed the smiling
good-fellowship which is usually to be found at a dinner-table. Had
these two even laughed outright they would have appeared more human. But
they did not, and throughout their conversation maintained a sinister
calmness disconcerting in its aloofness from the chatter and merriment
of commonplace mortals. Yet somehow this profound quietness seemed to
suit the room with its menacing atmosphere.
"It is difficult," murmured Don Pablo, with a glance at the door.
"But not impossible," returned Enistor, answering the thought rather
than the words. These two were versed in mind-reading beyond the
ordinary.
"That is as it may be, my friend!"
Enistor frowned. "You mean her innocence?"
"Is it necessary for you to put that into words?" demanded the older man
in a mocking way; "of course I mean her innocence. That very purity
which makes the girl so valuable to me is the wall which protects her
from the influence I wish to exercise over her."
"Constant dropping of water wears away a stone, Master."
"That proverb does not apply in every case," retorted the other darkly.
"I tell you that I am helpless before your daughter. I am too old for
her to love me, therefore her heart is safe. She is not greedy for
money, or admiration, or position, or dress, or for half a dozen things
which would tempt an ordinary girl. There is no foothold to be
obtained."
The host cast an uneasy glance round, and his eyes grew piercing, as if
he would force the invisible to become apparent. "She is guarded, we
know!"
Narvaez' wrinkled face grew even darker than before. "Yes, she is
guarded. I am aware of the power that guards her."
"So you have said several times, Master. Why not explain more fully?"
"The time has not yet come to explain. If you were advanced enough to
read the Akashic Records, then you might see much that would explain
things."
Enistor nodded gloomily. "I understand. The present situation is the
outcome of the past."
"Everything in life is an outcome of the past," said Narvaez, "even a
neophyte such as you are should be certain of that. Cause and effect
govern all things."
"But if you would explain the cause, I might see how to deal with the
effect, Master."
"I daresay," returned the other dryly, "but in spite of my superior
knowledge, I am not yet omnipotent, Enistor. I can read a trifle of the
records, but not easily. There are veils before my eyes which prevent me
from knowing the exact state of affairs which has brought things to this
pass in this set of lives. All I can say is that you and I and your
daughter, together with two other people, were in Chaldea over five
thousand years ago, and the lives then are linked with the lives now.
The Karma of that period has to be worked out while we are all in the
flesh to-day."
"Do you know who the other two people are?" asked Enistor eagerly.
"I know one. He is powerful, and hostile to you and to me!"
"He does not follow the Left-hand Path then?"
"No. He is a White Magician. You will see him some day when the hour
strikes. I am teaching you all I can so that you may be able to confront
him."
"I am not afraid of any one," snapped Enistor sharply.
"Oh, you have courage enough," admitted Narvaez, "but knowledge must be
added to that, if you are to be victorious. As to the other person who
has to play a part in the working out of this Karma----"
"Well! Well! Well?"
"I don't know who or what he is," confessed the other.
"He is a man then?"
"Yes, I know that much!" Narvaez drank a glass of water, and rose with
an effort as if his bones pained him. "We had better understand the
situation." In spite of his mind-reading Enistor could not understand
and said as much with a puzzled air. Narvaez laughed softly for a moment
and then became his usual calm self. "I refer to the position on the
physical plane of you and myself and those surrounding us--the flesh and
blood puppets I mean with which we have to deal."
"Are they puppets?" demanded Enistor dubiously.
"One is not. You can guess that I mean our powerful adversary. But the
others--bah!" he swept the air with one lean hand. "I think I can deal
with them, if you give me your assistance."
"I have promised to give it--at a price," said Enistor tartly.
The guest stared at him with a sphinx-like expression. "I know your
price and you shall have your price," he dropped into his chair again
with an air of fatigue, and his eyes grew brighter than ever. "Listen,
my friend. I came here from Spain three years ago in search of you, as I
learned by my arts that you would be useful to me. You have the blood of
my race in your veins, as you know, since that Spanish sailor, who was
wrecked on these coasts in a galleon of the Great Armada, married your
ancestress from whom you are descended."
"I know all this, Master."
"Quite so, but I wish to refresh your memory. I found you here a poor
man----"
"Which I am still," interrupted Enistor gloomily.
"Of course. The time is not yet ripe for you to gain your wish!"
"My wish! my wish!" the host rose and raised his arms, with a fierce
look on his powerful face. "When will it be gratified? I want money--a
large amount--thousands of pounds, since money means power."
"And power is the real thing you desire. The money, as we know, is only
the means to obtain that power. You wish to influence men at all costs;
to rule the masses; to be famous as a leader!"
The sneer with which Narvaez made this speech irritated Enistor,
although he was sufficiently educated in mystic lore to be aware how
important absolute self-command is to those who deal with occultism.
That is, he knew such was the case, more or less, but could never attain
to the necessary calm. "It is not a contemptible ambition," he snarled
savagely.
"Our adversary of the Right-hand Path would say so," rejoined Narvaez
coolly, "since you desire power and rule and money in order to gratify
Self."
"I never knew that you worked for other people, Narvaez," sneered
Enistor.
The Spaniard smiled coldly. "I don't, I never shall. I strive, as you
do, for power, and, thanks to my knowledge, I have more than you,
although it is not enough to content me. It is because your aims are the
same as mine that we can work together. But Alice does not desire
anything and that is what baffles both of us."
"In that case, she is useless to you, Master, and therefore it is no
good your marrying her."
"Once she is my wife, I can influence her more easily, Enistor. As you
know, I have no feeling of love for either man or woman. That
philanthropic sentiment of sacrifice for humanity is disagreeable to me.
In black magic, as in white, one must live like what is called a saint
to be powerful. To be absolutely free you should never have married."
"Yet you propose to make the same mistake."
"There is no mistake about the matter," said Narvaez calmly, "my
marriage with your daughter will be no marriage in the accepted sense of
the word. I simply wish to bind her to me, so that I can train the
clairvoyance she possesses which is so valuable to me. I can give her
plenty of money----"
"You won't give it to me," interposed the other hastily.
"Of course not. Why should I? Nothing for nothing is the rule of the
Left-hand Path. But that I require your services and cannot dispense
with them I should not waste my time teaching you my knowledge. However,
the situation stands thus. I am to marry your daughter, and when I train
her clairvoyantly--waken her sleeping powers, that is--we may learn
from her reading of the Akashic Records what danger threatens."
"There is a danger then?"
"Yes, and a very real one, which has to do with this adversary I told
you about. A desire to defeat him brought me to you, and as he is your
enemy as well as mine, you are wise to obey me in all things."
"Yet I know that when you have no further use for me, you will cast me
aside as of no account," said Enistor bitterly.
"Why not?" rejoined the other coolly. "You would act in the same way."
"I am not so sure that I would."
"Ah. You have still some human weakness to get rid of before you can
progress on the path along which you ask me to lead you. I have no use
for weaklings, Enistor. Remember that."
The host drew himself up haughtily. "I am no weakling!"
"For your own sake, to-morrow, I hope you are not."
"Why to-morrow?"
"Because a blow will fall on you."
Enistor looked uneasy. "A blow! What kind of a blow?"
"Something to do with a loss of expected money. That is all I can tell
you, my friend. You keep certain things from me, so if you are not
entirely frank, how can you expect me to aid you?"
Enistor dropped into his chair again, and the perspiration beaded his
dark face. "A loss of expected money," he muttered, "and Lucy is ill."
"Who is Lucy?"
"My sister who lives in London. A widow called Lady Staunton. She has
five thousand a year which she promised years ago to leave to me, so
that I might restore the fortunes of the Enistor family. I had news a
week ago that she is very ill, and this week I was going up to see her
in order to make sure she had not changed her mind."
"It is useless your going to see Lady Staunton," said Narvaez leisurely,
"for she _has_ changed her mind and has made a new will."
Enistor scowled and clenched his hands. "How do you know?"
"Well, I don't know details," said the Spaniard agreeably, "those have
to be supplied by you. All I am certain of is that to-morrow you will
receive a letter stating that you have lost some expected money. As the
sole money you hope to receive is to come from Lady Staunton, it is
logical to think that this is what will be lost. You should have told me
about this and I could have worked on her mind to keep her true to you."
"But it is impossible," cried Enistor, rising to stride up and down in
an agitated way. "Lucy is as proud of our family as I am, and always
said she would leave her fortune to restore us to our old position in
the country."
"Lady Staunton is a woman, and women are fickle," said Narvaez cruelly.
"I fear you have lost your chance this time."
"You may be wrong."
"I may be, but I don't think so. I was looking over your horoscope last
evening, Enistor, and from what I read therein I made further
inquiries, which have to do with invisible powers I can control."
"Elementals?"
"And other things," said the magician carelessly; "however I learned
positively that you will get bad news of the nature I explained
to-morrow. It is too late to counteract what has been done."
"The will----?"
"Exactly, the will. From what you say I feel convinced that my knowledge
applies to Lady Staunton and her fortune. See what comes of not being
frank with me, Enistor. You are a fool."
"I don't believe what you say."
"As you please. It does not matter to me; except," he added with
emphasis, "that it makes my hold over you more secure."
"What do you mean by that?"
"My poor friend!" Narvaez glanced back from the door towards which he
had walked slowly. "You are losing what little powers you have obtained,
since you cannot read my mind. Why, I mean that with five thousand a
year you might not be inclined to give me your daughter in marriage. As
a poor man you are forced to do so."
"It seems to me," said Enistor angrily, "that in any case I must do so,
if I wish to learn the danger which threatens me as well as you."
"Why, that is true. You are clever in saying that."
"But perhaps this possible loss of money is the danger."
"No. The danger is a greater one than the loss of money. It has to do
with your life and my life in Chaldea; with our adversary and with the
unknown man, who is coming to take part in the drama of repayment. I
have a feeling," said Narvaez, passing his hand across his brow, "that
the curtain rises on our drama with this loss of money."
"I don't believe Lucy will cheat me," cried Enistor desperately.
"Wait until to-morrow's post," said Narvaez significantly, "you will
find that I am a true prophet. Our bargain of my marriage with Alice
must continue on its present basis, as the want of money will still
prevent your becoming independent. I might suggest," he added, opening
the door, "that you forbid your daughter to see too much of young
Hardwick. She might fall in love with him and that would in a great
measure destroy her clairvoyant powers. She will be of no use to either
of us then. Good night! When you sleep we shall meet as usual on the
other plane!"
Narvaez departed chuckling, for disagreeables befalling others always
amused him. He was absolutely without a heart and without feelings,
since for ages in various bodies he had worked hard to rid himself of
his humanity. Enistor was on the same evil path, but as yet was human
enough to worry over the inevitable. Until he slept he did his best to
convince himself that Narvaez spoke falsely, but failed utterly in the
attempt.