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 assure 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 assured 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
passed 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
quantity of evil which, through ignorance, he has accumulated 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 God 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. God 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 God 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 assistance which he refuses
to take. With my greater powers, poured through me for selfless ends by
the God 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 God, 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 butterfly that it was not worth while
breaking her on a wheel. Even if, out of sheer malicious amusement, 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?"
"Señor 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
Hell, 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, Señor Narvaez, and what you are.
With me you cannot masquerade as an angel of light."
"I leave that rôle 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 cumbersome 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!"
"That I saved you showed it was not impossible. I had a struggle: oh,
yes, I had a great struggle. Not knowing that my character would be
cleared, I nearly decided to let you perish lest you should condemn me.
But I could not: I could not."
"Why?" demanded Enistor insistently. "Why? Why?"
Montrose pressed his hands tightly together to control his emotions.
"How can I explain? Something higher than my ordinary self acted for
me."
"The Christ, Who is building Himself up within you, spoke," said
Eberstein gravely.
"Weakness spoke," struck in the magician. "The weakness of a coward who
was afraid to remove an obstacle from his path."
"Montrose did remove an obstacle," said the doctor, addressing
Narvaez-Hardwick for the first time. "One which was blocking his upward
path."
"His murder of me in Chaldea?" questioned Enistor, after a pause.
"Yes! He owed you a life. Only by giving back in another way what he had
robbed you of could he learn his lesson and cleanse his soul."
"Where is the life that has been given?" sneered Narvaez-Hardwick.
"There is Enistor dying. A valuable gift indeed."
"Montrose did not know that Enistor was fatally injured by his fall. So
far as he was aware he gave back what he had taken and at the risk of
losing his present life unjustly. The sheet is clean."
"Sophistry! Sophistry! You are trying to make black white."
"Not so. Man is judged by his intention in whatever he does. Thought
precedes both words and acts, so if the first be right the two last
cannot be wrong."
"We are here to listen to a sermon, it appears," said the other man
mockingly. "You are woefully dull."
Eberstein ignored the spiteful speech to advance towards the bed.
"Enistor, you are about to pass away from the physical plane to reap as
you have sown, and painful will be the harvesting of your sheaves."
"Tares he should call them," mocked Narvaez-Hardwick contemptuously.
"Not all tares. Always the germs of good have been in your victim."
"A victim! I?" cried the Squire, pride and indignation lighting up his
faded eyes, to the delight of his dark master, who approved of the
sinister quality.
"Yes," said Eberstein steadily. "Age after age, life after life, you
have been the victim, the slave, the tool of this man, who is stronger
than you are. By taking his gifts, you have submitted yourself to his
will. Break your chain, Enistor: now, at this very moment, assert your
freedom as a son of God, owing allegiance only to that Power of Love
which is co-extensive with creation."
"And by so doing you render yourself the servant of all," said
Narvaez-Hardwick vehemently. "Whatever you gain you must use for the
benefit of others and not for yourself. Think of it."
"Yes," came the quiet voice of the White Master. "Think of it, and think
of how the powers you gain through evil are used for the benefit of your
dark tyrant. He does not even give you gratitude."
"I give more than gratitude: my gifts are more substantial. Virtue is
not its own reward in my service. Service indeed. And who has done
service? I ask you, Enistor. Did I not scheme to place this young fool
in your power, and did I not do so? You failed to use the golden moment
properly and crush him, or you would by now have been wealthy, by
regaining your lost property, and he would have been waiting his trial
in prison. Have I not rendered you a great service? Do I not deserve
gratitude in return?"
"Gratitude for ruining me," said Enistor, wincing at the fiery glances
cast upon him. "You ask too much. You have plotted and planned, it is
true, but your schemes have been brought to naught."
"By you," said Narvaez-Hardwick scornfully, "since you failed to grasp
the prize I placed within your reach."
"It was Douglas who conquered," said Alice suddenly. "He chose the good
instead of the evil, and hate was overcome by love. Father," she moved
forward swiftly to kneel beside the bed, "you have no bitterness against
Douglas now: you cannot have since he has saved your life."
"For the moment," scoffed the magician, "a pretty saving truly."
"I have had a terrible time since regaining my senses," said the Squire
feebly. "All my old life has been broken up, and I am beginning to see
things in a new light. Love is stronger than Hate, I admit that, since
Montrose acted so unselfishly as he did. Douglas," he held out a
trembling hand, which the young man gladly took, "I thank you for what
you have done, and I ask you to forgive me."
"Willingly! Willingly," said Montrose, with fervour. "If we had only
understood one another better, you would not now be dying."
"There is no question of dying," cried Narvaez-Hardwick, furious to see
how his empire was slipping from his grasp. "Don't hearken to this weak
babble, Enistor. Listen, I can cure you: I can make you as well as ever
you were."
The girl and her lover started up with incredulous looks and Enistor
gasped in amazement. "Can he do this?" he demanded, looking at
Eberstein.
"Yes," assented the other calmly. "His knowledge is great, even though
it is wrongly used."
"Wrongly used to cure the sick? Ha! What of your Master who saved the
lives of those past human aid?"
"He saved through the power of love, and left those He saved free. You
would use that same power after your own evil fashion, changing its good
into bad, so that you can bind Enistor the more closely to you as a
slave."
"Slave! Slave! What parrot repetition. Always slave: victim: tool! Lies,
I tell you, Enistor, lies. You are my friend. If I did make you suffer,
it was to test your strength, so that you might become strong enough to
handle those great powers which I use. I can make you omnipotent as I am
myself."
"Omnipotent," echoed the Squire doubtfully. "How can that be when you
were struck down in your moment of triumph?"
"I was taken by surprise," said Narvaez-Hardwick sullenly. "Had I been
on my guard I could have held my own."
"I think not," observed the doctor gently; then addressing Enistor
directly, with marked emphasis: "My son, creation is sustained by love,
and where love is not, destruction must needs come. By pandering to
self, this man has acquired a small empire, which he has cut off from
the great one of God. His force is only that little which he has gained
and which he is strong enough to hold. But my force," Eberstein stood up
very straightly, "is the force of the whole, which is necessarily
greater than the force of the part acquired by Narvaez. Through me, as
through all who strive to work selflessly, the mighty power of love is
poured, for the benefit of those who need aid. Only this can give you
power, and will you consent to be a slave in the petty kingdom of this
man, which will be destroyed when his measure is full?"
"It will never be destroyed," cried the magician, hatefully proud. "For
centuries I have endured alone, defying all."
"You seek isolation, and isolation you shall have," said Eberstein
sadly. "Life after life you are building thicker and thicker the
prison-house which shuts you in from the source of all life. Oh, my
Brother, have we not pleaded with you again and again to repent, and
turn to Him who alone sustains the worlds, and you will not, in your mad
pride of self. Rapidly and surely you are descending into the Abyss, and
would drag this man with you. But so great is the Love of Christ, who
died for you and for all, that He will forgive you even at the eleventh
hour, as He forgives this poor mortal."
"I haven't asked for forgiveness!" growled Enistor savagely.
"No. Don't be so weak," said Narvaez-Hardwick eagerly. "Eberstein talks
rubbish. If you turn to his foolish ways will he save your life?"
"No," said the doctor with decision. "Enistor must pass on to exhaust
the evil that he has made by suffering. But in that necessary suffering
he will be supported and aided by Him who suffered Himself."
"There," the magician turned triumphantly towards Enistor, "you see that
he can only promise pain. A nice bribe for you to turn into a silly
saint, isn't it, my friend? Now I"--the man's voice became dangerously
persuasive and bland--"I can make you whole again by curing your hurt
and renewing your vital powers. You have heard Eberstein admit that I
can do so. Then, since you have stood the tests of inflicted pain, which
were necessary, I can now instruct you in the higher magic, which will
give you power over men. Also I can make you rich. Let this money of
your sister's remain with Montrose and let him marry your daughter and
pass out of your life. You and I, my dear friend, will go to Spain, and
there you shall share in my greatness. Together we shall sway this
generation, making and unmaking men and nations."
"Don't listen to him: don't listen to him," implored Alice, putting her
arms round her father's neck. "Remember how cruel he has been to you:
remember how he was struck down by God: remember how his schemes have
failed. He is a liar, like his Father the Devil."
"There is no devil but what man makes for himself," sneered
Narvaez-Hardwick. "But we will let that pass. You have heard, Enistor.
Eberstein offers you death in this world and pain in the next----"
"Through which you will pass to a wider and more glorious life, when the
past has been expiated," said the doctor swiftly.
"While I," went on the magician, paying no heed to the interruption,
"can give you a long physical life with power and wealth, and ease and
knowledge. Also in the next world I have my empire and you shall share
it when we pass over this time, to return more powerful when we next
incarnate. Choose! Choose!"
"Aye, choose," said Eberstein solemnly. "The Path of Pleasure, which
leads to destruction, or the Path of Pain, which ends in the radiant
light of the Godhead. The narrow way: the broad way: the Way of the
Cross, or the Way of the Wine-cup in which the serpent of self lurks."
On one side of the bed stood the Dark Master, on the other stood the
White Master, and between, prone with anguish, lay the body which
contained the soul for which the opposing forces of good and evil
struggled. Alice clung to her father and Montrose knelt prayerfully by
the bed. The room was charged with battling powers, but in that dread
moment of choice the influence of both stood aloof from the soul, which
had to make its choice by what knowledge it had garnered painfully
through many incarnations. Enistor felt suddenly feeble, felt that he
was in a dense gloom, pricked here and there with wan lights, which
represented all the good he had gained: and great indeed was the
blackness of evil. Of himself he could do nothing, yet he knew
intuitively that behind the gloom was a glorious and radiant Power of
Love, which would dispel the evil when called upon. Narvaez offered him
the kingdoms of the world, which rise and fall and pass away as a
burning scroll: Eberstein offered him the glories of eternal good, which
endure for ever and ever. He had in many lives tested the lower: now was
the time to reach out to the higher. Yet so strong was the temptation of
the flesh that the man paused, hesitated, faltered and held his peace.
Alice sensed the conflict, and strove to surrender her gain of good to
him who had treated her so cruelly.
"If it is permitted, let what I can give go to help my father," she
cried, and then the miracle happened.
Enistor felt an inrush of light, not very strong yet wholly pure, and it
was sufficient to turn the scale in spite of the strong insistence of
the evil darkness. Yet not in such strength could he conquer. Something
greater was needed, but the aid of Alice gave him power to call upon the
greater might. "Hear us, oh! Christ: graciously hear us, oh! Lord
Christ," he cried, in the suddenly remembered words of the Litany, and
in broken tones.
Narvaez retreated suddenly with a snarl of baffled rage, driven back by
a glorious power, which flooded the being of his escaping victim with
ineffable light. As by magic the darkness vanished, and the radiant
tenderness of Perfect Love descended upon the weary soul. Enistor's face
grew young and bright. With an expression of joyful awe, he stretched
out imploring hands of surrender and remorse. What he beheld Eberstein
saw, as his head was reverently bent, and Narvaez saw also, for he fell
back slowly towards the door; driven into his self-created darkness by
the overwhelming glory of the Cross. Alice, clinging to Montrose,
murmured incoherently: "Do you see Him: do you see Him? There. With His
hand on my father's head."
The Lord of the Dark Face had vanished: the Lord of Compassion had come
in power. Like a child who is weary the dying man fell dead on the
pillows, his soul passing onward so gently that the two young people
scarcely realised that all was over. A moment later, and the Presence
was gone. The supernal light, visible to all save Douglas, faded away,
and Eberstein stepped forward silently to close the tired eyes.
"May God lead him to a place of refreshment, light and peace," he said
in solemn tones, and over the body he traced the holy emblem of
salvation.
"Amen," murmured the two who knelt by the bedside.
And away into the night fled the Son of Perdition, baffled, broken and
beaten, despoiled of his slave, who was lost to him for ever. And his
was the eternal torment of self, which flies though no man pursueth.