"I am not!" Douglas sprang to his feet with the hot blood making red his cheeks. "So far as I am personally concerned I don't care for money, although I don't deny that I am glad my days of poverty are over. But this money has been given to me in trust to help others. I cannot be false to my trust."

Enistor waved his hand disdainfully. "That is only a young man's talk.

Why should you help others? Let them look after themselves."

"I think differently. Dr. Eberstein has taught me differently."

"Dr. Eberstein," said the other with a sneer, "is a visionary. If you are to be my son-in-law you must allow me to advise you."

"I have always acted on my own responsibility during life," said Montrose sharply, "and I shall continue to do so. Dr. Eberstein knows so much about things not of this world that I am always glad to hear what he has to say."

"And do what he tells you."

"Certainly, in things which have to do with my spiritual welfare. But as regards earthly affairs I take my own way. Still, I admit," ended the young man frankly, "that in this instance Eberstein advises me to keep the money."

"Naturally! He can do what he likes with you and the money will be useful to him and his ambitions."

The taunt was so puerile that it failed to disturb Montrose. "Eberstein has no ambition save to do good, and is rich enough to execute his plans without aid from me. He cannot do what he likes with me, as you think, although I am always willing to take his advice, which is of the best. I am not a child, Mr. Enistor, but one who has gained experience through bitter trials. I may add that Eberstein's teaching inculcates self-reliance and individual judgment, so that each man may learn to stand alone."

"He is a dreamer as you are. However I care nothing for him or his teaching in any way. You have heard my conditions. Surrender the fortune to me and you marry my daughter: otherwise you must leave my house and never see Alice again. I give you three days in which to make up your mind."

"I make it up now," said Montrose, resolute but calm. "The money I have, and the money I keep. With or without your consent Alice shall be my wife."

"As you please," replied the Squire, frigidly polite. "You have heard my determination, from which I shall not swerve. In three days we can talk about this subject again; meanwhile let things go on as usual." And the conversation terminated in what might be called an armed neutrality.

To remain in the house on such a footing was by no means palatable to a young hot-headed man as Douglas truly was. His first impulse was to leave Tremore and do battle with Enistor from a distance: his second to stay where he was and give Alice the safeguard of his presence. Should he depart it might be that Enistor could coerce the girl into obedience, thereby causing her unnecessary suffering. Montrose loved Alice too well to submit her to such sorrow, so he swallowed his pride and said nothing about the conversation. As he was sufficiently self-controlled to appear at his ease Alice had not the faintest idea of what had taken place.

Perhaps if she had observed her father's sudden change towards her lover from geniality to chilly politeness she might have been enlightened. But the insolent conduct of Narvaez had made her nervously ill, and she was too languid to take much interest in any one or anything. So matters remained much as usual, although the visitor felt that the atmosphere of the big house was insistently menacing and sinister. Eberstein could have told him that the conditions heralded the breaking of a storm, but Eberstein, watchful and silent, stayed at Perchton, saying nothing, but thinking much.

Meanwhile Polwellin seethed with gossip. The first item had to do with the sudden illness of Hardwick, who was said to be dying. Every one regretted the news, as the artist was a favourite in the neighbourhood in which he had lived so long. The doctor from Perchton came to see the sick man, and Mr. Sparrow, always a help in time of trouble, visited the bedside. Hardwick was grateful to see them both, but was too weak to take much interest in either his body or his soul. He was simply fading out of life, and things of this world were losing their interest for the departing spirit.

The second item concerned the quarrel of Narvaez and Montrose, which had been reported by those who witnessed it, with many additions. It was freely stated that Montrose had threatened to murder the Spaniard for the insult offered to Miss Enistor, and the gossips said that if he did he would only be forestalling Job Trevel, who was equally bent upon "doing for the foreign gentleman." It puzzled the simple villagers to understand why Don Pablo should return to Miss Enistor, when he had left her to philander with Rose Penwin, and arrived at the conclusion that he was a bad lot. Nevertheless, because the stranger was rich and scattered his money freely, there were a few who spoke in his favour. But the majority were hostile, since the mere presence of Narvaez seemed to irritate those he was with into quarrelling, even though there was no cause to do so. Undoubtedly the man had an evil influence, and the inhabitants of Polwellin would not have been displeased to see this male Ate leave the place. Then Mr. Montrose could marry the Squire's daughter and Job could make Rose his wife, which would mean wedding festivities and plenty to eat and drink. In this way the gossips talked and the rumours grew, so that shortly the whole village was infected with uneasy fear as to what would happen. It seemed as though the influence of the dark house on the hill had descended upon Polwellin. Perhaps it had, and perhaps it had been guided in its descent by that man who dealt with supernatural things in the cottage which squatted like a toad amongst the heather.

To that same cottage Enistor repaired the next afternoon to keep his appointment. He found Narvaez, looking older and more withered than ever, crouching over the fire, moody, broken-up and peevish; altogether unlike his ordinary serene self. At the first glance the Squire decided that his master was quite helpless and sat down with a glow of pleasure to take the upper hand. It pleased him immensely to show Narvaez that he also had a will, that he also could bully, and that the former relationship was now reversed. All the latent cruelty in Enistor rose to the surface at the sight of his helpless tyrant. The late under-dog now intended to bite and worry as the top-dog had done.

"Well, sir," said Enistor shortly, "what have you to say for yourself?"

Narvaez whimpered and crouched still lower over the fire. "I am an old man," he moaned, "a very old man."

"An old scoundrel, you mean. How dare you insult my daughter yesterday?"

"Are you against me also? Do you want to see Montrose murder me?"

"It would serve you right if you did get murdered," snapped the Squire with contempt; "you are of no use in the world that I can see."

"You did not think so once," muttered Don Pablo humbly.

"No! That is true. Because I believed you to be a clever man. Now I know that you are a fraud laying claim to a power you never possessed."

"You have felt my power," snarled Narvaez savagely.

"I admit that I have. And why? Because you had a trained will which you could concentrate to compel me to feel what you wished. That is a thing of the past. The Great Power that laid you low the other night has broken your will, and you are no longer able to control me."

"That is true! that is true! I have had a shock, a great shock."

"So if I put forth my will," continued the Squire mercilessly, "I could make you endure the pains you inflicted on me when I disobeyed."

"And would you?"

"I have a mind to do so at this moment. You set the example. As you did to me so I wish to do to you."

"I daresay." Narvaez straightened himself a trifle, and some of his old fire sparkled in his dull eyes. "But I am not yet so feeble that I cannot defend myself if necessary. I cannot control you, certainly, as The Adversary has scattered and weakened my will, but I can prevent you from hurting me."

"Well, I shall let you off this time," said Enistor, sneering, yet wondering why he should show mercy after Don Pablo's teaching.

"Let me off! Let me off!" screamed the Spaniard fiercely. "Try, if you dare, to measure your powers against mine, shattered as I am. I can gather myself together again, remember; then you take care, you take care."

Enistor felt a qualm, wondering if Narvaez was so weak as he pretended to be. There was a look in the rekindled light of those steady eyes which made him doubtful of his ground. Bold as he was, he felt that it would be rash to advance, and therefore he retreated skilfully by changing the conversation immediately. "You are wrong to think that Eberstein struck you down the other night. It was a Higher Power."

"Who told you that?"

"Eberstein himself. It shows me how broken you are, Narvaez, when you don't know that the man has been trying to convert me to his way of thinking."

"Yes! Yes! I am brought very low: very low indeed," muttered Don Pablo with a groan; "but if Eberstein tried to convert you he hasn't succeeded very well, since it is only the remains of my power that prevent you from giving me pain."

"I don't agree with what Eberstein says," retorted the Squire tartly.

"He talked the usual weak Christianity of benefiting one's neighbours instead of one's self."

"Why not take his advice?" asked Narvaez, looking up with his former keen glance. "Benefiting one's self has brought me to this. If you follow my teaching you also may come to these depths."

"That is a strange thing for you to advise, Narvaez."

"Very strange! But I should not advise if I dreamed for one moment that you were disposed to take the Right-hand Path. The Power of Self is too strong for you, Enistor. Age after age it has dominated you."

"So Eberstein told me! But this time I have broken your bonds."

"Have you indeed?" said Narvaez in a strange tone, staring into the fire. "Ah! that will please Eberstein. Of course I lose a pupil and he gains one."

"No! I stand alone!" said Enistor proudly.

The answer seemed to satisfy Don Pablo and he chuckled. "I hope you will be able to stand alone against Montrose, now that I cannot aid you. He has the fortune, remember, and he will keep it."

"I have given him three days to surrender it or lose Alice for ever. And the mention of her name," cried the Squire, lashing himself into a fury, "makes me wonder that I don't thrash you for daring to insult her."

"No! No!" cried Narvaez, and his voice broke. "I am such an old man.

Besides I can still help you. Montrose has a secret which you can use against him."

"What is that secret?" Enistor's hand, which he had raised to strike, fell by his side.

"Montrose is already married."