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 a.s.surance 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 pa.s.sion to talk to an intimate friend, such as he truly was, of her feelings. But he did not understand what was pa.s.sing 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 s.p.a.ces 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, m.u.f.fling 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 s.p.a.cious 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 Sh.e.l.ley 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!"

a.s.suredly 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. .h.i.therto 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.

"No," said Alice, rousing herself with an effort from the lethargy which had fallen on her. "I feel quite well, but less full of vitality than when I arrived at Perchton. It is the idea of Tremore, I think," she shuddered. "You know what a gloomy house it is."

"Montrose will dispel the gloom when he arrives," suggested Hardwick.

Alice brightened. "Oh, I am sure he will. But how nice of you to say that. You are not a bit jealous."

"I believe you are annoyed because I am not, my dear girl," laughed the artist.

"Julian, how can you say such a thing?" she replied absently; then added in a markedly irrelevant manner, "I hope father will be glad to see me."

Mr. Enistor may have been glad, but he certainly did not appear at the door to show his gladness. Alice's boxes were taken into the house, and Julian departed in the car, declining to enter, on the plea that father and daughter would have much to say to one another. Alice did not seek to stay him. She felt chilled by the absence of welcome and the sombre atmosphere of the big house. The beaten s.p.a.ce of ground upon which it stood seemed to isolate it from the warm laughing world of vivid life, and she entered with the feeling that she was descending into a vault.

Nor did the greeting of her father tend to dissipate this impression of dismay. He received her in the library with a cold kiss and without rising from his chair.

"Well, Alice, how are you?" He looked at her keenly as she stood by the table, white and frozen into silence. "Your stay in town does not appear to have done you much good."

"Oh, I feel all right," said the girl, with an effort to be her true self.

"You don't look all right," snapped Enistor, rather disappointed. "After all the money you have spent you certainly should have a more healthy appearance. H'm! I think I understand," he paused a moment, then added bitingly, "your new lover has disappointed you. Is that it?"

"No!" Alice roused herself to offer a protest. "Douglas is all that I can wish, father."

"I hope for your sake that he is all _I_ can wish. If he isn't I shall certainly not allow you to marry him. There is always Don Pablo to----"

At this speech Alice did wake up and a colour flushed her cheeks. "Don Pablo, if I am to believe Julian, has fallen in love with Rose Penwin."

"I didn't know that Hardwick was such a gossip," said Enistor coolly.

"As to falling in love, Narvaez is much too sensible a man. He admires the girl for her beauty and has given her several presents of jewellery.

At Don Pablo's age no one can object to that."

"Job Trevel can, and Job Trevel does."

"More gossip," sneered Enistor. "Your artist friend appears to have informed himself accurately of the situation. But it matters nothing to you or to me, since neither of us has any right to interfere with Don Pablo's likes or dislikes. You are the one he loves, Alice."

"I thought you said a moment ago that he was too sensible to fall in love!"

The Squire shrugged his shoulders. "I meant in the silly way of boys and girls. Narvaez' love is of a deeper and more spiritual kind. He admires Rose as a beautiful girl; he adores you as a soul."

"I don't want his adoration!" said Alice wearily, for it seemed hard that the usual wrangling should begin the moment she returned home.

"You prefer Montrose's adoration no doubt. Well, I have no objection so long as I approve of the young man and he does what I want."

"What is that?"

"He must restore the money which your aunt left him."

"I thought you did not care for the money, father?"

"I care very much indeed for the money, although I have never emphasised the fact. Only because he has it did I even consider the possibility of your marrying him. I should much prefer you to be Narvaez' wife.

However, we shall see when the young man arrives. Meantime you had better lie down as you seem to be worn out by your journey. It's waste of money to send you away."

Alice bit her lips to keep back her tears and breathed a prayer that Eberstein should help her to throw off the deadly influence of the house. Even as she did so the relief came, and she felt a wave of vitality run through her body. The weary, languid sense of utter desolation left her; the colour returned to her cheeks, the brightness to her eyes and the strength to her whole being. Enistor saw the statue come to life, and in place of a wan, weak girl beheld a living, breathing woman, very much alive. He stared amazed.

"What has come to you?" he demanded, startled and puzzled.

"Love," said Alice quietly, "love and life instead of hate and death!"

Enistor quivered, since he knew that the first mentioned forces were at war with himself and his dark Master.

CHAPTER XI

THE SPIDER AND THE FLY

Alice returned to her home with the feeling that she was entering a hostile city. The atmosphere of the house was inimical, charged with disintegrating forces, which strove to break up and scatter her protective power. That the power came from Dr. Eberstein she was now perfectly certain in her own mind, as she had experienced his help so plainly when she arrived. Before her visit to London, Enistor had so dominated her with his cold cynicism and cruel insistence that he had almost entirely conquered her will. She had been like a bird in the coils of a serpent, and only absence had enabled her to regain her freedom. In surroundings less charged with deadly evil, the girl had recovered the youthful spirits which were her rightful heritage, and the unifying influence of Montrose's love had strengthened her considerably.

Therefore, when fear again threatened to control her, she had been able to a.s.sert herself, but, on reflection, she felt positive that the attempt would have been vain had she not mentally appealed to Eberstein.

Why she had thus called upon him for help she scarcely knew, as she was ignorant of matters connected with the occult. All she did know was that the doctor had always soothed her with his serene strength when she was in his presence, and half unconsciously she had wished for him to be beside her when the insidious evil which overshadowed Tremore had surged round her to paralyse and control. Eberstein had not come himself, but his power had, and like an impa.s.sable wall it had fenced her in from danger. The hint that such help was obtainable in such a manner was enough for the girl. She persistently and particularly dwelt upon Eberstein's powerful personality, and whenever uncomfortable feelings a.s.sailed her, she swiftly imagined that he was close at hand to defend her. Also she constantly visualised the image of her lover, knowing that he was willing to lay down his life for her safety, and this in a lesser degree filled her with life and strength. If Enistor on his daughter's return doubted that the visit to London had done her good, he had no reason to doubt afterwards. Alice recovered, as by magic, the brightness of her eyes and the roses of her cheeks. She went about the dark house gaily and hopefully busy with domestic affairs, always cheerful and merry even to the extent of singing while at work. It might be thought that Enistor was glad to see how the girl had recovered her spirits and had benefited by the change. But in place of showing satisfaction, he gloomed and glowered in high displeasure.