THE TRANCE
A man on a suburban road at noonday, with the sun shining brilliantly, walks along thinking of his private affairs and heedless of surroundings. But when the toils of day are ended, and he proceeds along that same road in a darkness scarcely illuminated by a few lamps, his feelings are less comfortable. Of course much depends upon the man being sensitive or stolid, but in any case this matters little in the present instance, as the illustration is merely used to symbolise the mental state of Alice during the evening of her lover's absence. One moment she was clothed in the radiance of perfect security and peace; the next, and a dreadful gloom descended upon her bringing anguish and distress. Naturally there was no physical change, but in some inexplicable way she felt that an inward light was quenched. Alice had never read St. Teresa's "Castles of the Soul," or the explanations of that terrible saint would have given her the key to her condition.
As it was she felt as though the sun had fallen from the sky, and quailed in the dense darkness pricked with feeble lights which now surrounded her. Little as she knew it, those same lights represented the sum of what experience she had gained with painful learning through many successive lives. The knowledge and attainments of Eberstein, who had reached an infinitely higher level than herself,beamed in that splendour which had been withdrawn. But what little light she possessed and what greater light he had gained were only what each could receive of The True Light "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world!" Hitherto, Eberstein had given for her use what glory he had earned; now—since the child must learn to walk alone if it ever hopes to come to maturity—he had stood aside for the moment, so that she could make the attempt with what strength she possessed. But Alice did not know all this, and could only feel supremely wretched and forsaken.
So listless did she feel that there was no energy in her to dress for dinner. For two hours she sat in the drawing-room, already darkened by the early gloom of the short autumnal day, longing to be in the haven of her lover's arms. Her lonely soul cried aloud for human sympathy, for human protection, since the higher love seemed to have withdrawn itself, and she put forth all the longing of her being to call back Douglas to her side. But no answer came. The gloom waxed denser, the silence became more oppressive, and all the girl could do was to concentrate her mind on Christ and His saving grace. There was some comfort to be got in murmuring that holy name over and over again. She felt as though she were drowning in a bitterly salt sea under a leaden sky, and that despairing trust in the Blessed One was the spar to which she clung in the hope of rescue. And unprotected as she was for the moment, save by her intuitive faith, she felt the evil forces of the house bear down upon her shuddering soul with terrific weight. She little knew how these destroyinginfluences were being directed by a Brother of the Shadow, and as little did she guess that he would be permitted to go so far and no farther. Knowledge of this state being a necessary ordeal would have helped her to bear it; but the ignorance which made her sufferings more acute was part of the ordeal itself. And silent, unseen, motionless, the Powers of Good watched her endurance of the test.
In the library Narvaez, in an extraordinary state of excitement for one so trained to serenity, was conversing hurriedly with his pupil. He had come over a quarter of an hour previously and was informing Enistor of the girl's defenceless state. The Adversary had withdrawn his protection, as Don Pablo knew in some mysterious way which he declined to explain to the Squire, so now was the time to put forth the dark influence of evil and make use of the girl's clairvoyant powers.
"They are untrained, it is true," said Narvaez, striving to be calm, since he knew how much depended upon perfect self-control. "But she is so pure and so powerful in her purity that when I loosen her soul from the bonds of the flesh, she will be able to reach that exalted plane where she can read the past truthfully. Information will come through little coloured by her personality. I assure you, Enistor, as in so young and innocent a girl, it is not yet particularly strong. Where is she?"
"In the drawing-room! Moping in the dark."
"Ah, she feels the absence of her guardian, and is greatly bewildered. All the better for our purpose."
"How are you going to manage?" said the Squireanxiously. "Alice hates you, and will never submit to do anything for you."
Narvaez sneered. "But for The Adversary, I should have dominated her long ago without difficulty. Now that the protection has been withdrawn she is quite at the mercy of my superior knowledge and power. She can never oppose her will to mine, as she is ignorant and I am wise."
"You won't hurt her," said Enistor uneasily, and silently astonished with himself for giving way to such a kindly human feeling.
"No. Of course I won't," retorted the other impatiently. "I shall send her to find out what we want, and then recall her. Why she is unsupported now I cannot learn; but certainly for the moment she has been left to walk alone. This is our hour, Enistor, so let us make the best of it."
"How do you intend to act?" questioned the father tensely.
"Place that arm-chair in the middle of the room: put the lamp behind yonder screen. I shall sit here by the window where she cannot see me: you take up your position near the fire. Give me a saucer, a plate, a vase—anything."
The Squire obeyed these directions and sat down as instructed to watch the doings of Don Pablo. That gentleman, taking a red-hot coal from the fire, dropped it on a bronze saucer of Indian workmanship which Enistor had selected from amongst the ornaments on the mantelpiece. Placing this on a small table which stood near the central chair, Narvaez shook over the burning coal some special incense which he carried in a tiny golden box. Atonce a thick white smoke fumed upward, and the room was filled gradually with a stupefying fragrance. With the lamp behind the Chinese screen, the apartment was only faintly illuminated by the red glow of the fire, which smouldered without flames in the grate. The Spaniard moved about with an activity surprising in a man of his years, and when he had completed his preparations retreated into the darkness near the heavily curtained window. Thence his voice came low, clear and piercing to the Squire.
"I am putting out my power to draw her here. Tell her when she comes to sit in the arm-chair yonder. My influence and the scent of the incense will bring about the separation of the bodies, and she will go to the appointed place. You ask the questions, as my voice may move her to rebellion. Keep your brain passive and I will impress upon you what I wish to ask. You have been already trained to be receptive in this way, so you know what to do."
"Yes!" breathed Enistor, sitting well back in his chair and fixing his eyes on the library door, dimly seen in the reddish glow of the fire.
Narvaez did not waste time in replying, but the Squire felt that he was now radiating a tremendous influence, which seemed to extend beyond the walls of the library and throughout the entire house. Shortly, swift unhesitating footsteps were heard, and Alice simply raced into the room, so speedily did she respond to the call. She had all her waking senses about her, and was puzzled to understand the impulse which had sent her headlong in search of her father.
"Do you want me?" she asked, with quicklaboured breathing, for the oppression of the room was terrible. "Why are you in the dark? What is the matter?"
"I want to talk to you about Montrose," said Enistor softly. "Sit down in that arm-chair over there."
"About Douglas!" Alice, with a weary sigh, dropped into the central chair, near the table where the incense curled upward in faint grey spirals, not discernible in the half-light. A whiff of the scent made the girl drowsy, and closing her eyes, she rested her head on the back of the chair. The action brought her face nearer to the bronze dish, and with the next breath she inhaled a lung-ful of the burning perfume. With a choking sensation she strove to open her eyes and lean forward, but her body would not obey her will, and she rested, inert and powerless, where she was. There was a momentary struggle between spirit and matter, a sick sensation of loosened bonds, and then she found herself standing upright gazing at her motionless body lying in the chair. It was alive and breathing, for she saw the rise and fall of the breast, but she, in a similar body, stood apart from her physical vehicle, distinct, and—so far as she knew—unattached. Before she had time to grasp the situation, the library vanished, and she was environed by a restless atmosphere of colour. It was as if she was clothed with the splendour of sunset, for there was no hard-and-fast outline; no visible form: all was cloud and colour, materials waiting to be shaped by the will into something which the soul desired. The silence was like a benediction of peace. "Higher! Higher!"said the far-away voice of her father. "Seek out the past where it is to be found. See yourself and those you know, in other times, in other climes, in other flesh." There was a pause, and then came the telephonic voice again, repeating the orders of Narvaez. "Use for the past the names by which you and those you know are called to-day. Higher! Higher!"
Alice again felt that struggle of spirit and matter, and—no longer afraid as she had been—passed out of her second body to become conscious in a third one. Now, as she knew intuitively, she moved in the sphere of Tone, and everywhere rainbow light spoke in music, though still she wandered in a cloudy atmosphere as in the heart of a many-hued opal. Wave after wave of murmuring light rolled over her, but there was no horizon, no boundaries, no up or down. She was in a dimension about which, as Alice Enistor, she knew nothing. But her eternal Self knew that the place was familiar, as she—having stepped behind two veils of matter—knew the Eternal Self.
"Seek out the Book of Time," commanded the thin voice which directed her doings, and ghost of a sound as it was, it penetrated to her through the choral harmonies of the glorious music.
In a moment everything as it were became solid, and she felt that she had dropped again to the earth. Clothed in a larger and more majestic body than that she wore as Alice Enistor, she moved amidst familiar surroundings, knowing the landscape she moved through and the people whom she found herself amongst. Then she was aware that she was still on a higher plane and had travelled in time through fivethousand years to re-live for the moment an incarnation of the past. The Book of Time, as she dimly sensed it, was not a book, as the physical brain knows a book, but a state of consciousness. At this moment, when the rainbow had vanished and the music had ceased, and—as it might be—she was living amongst the living, her father's voice came for the third time.
"What do you see? What do you do? Who are you, and who are those you mingle with? Speak!"
So she was not entirely detached from her body of Alice Enistor after all, since a thin thread of light ran from where she was to where she had been when starting on the journey. Down that thread of light—so it seemed—she sent her voice: telegraphed, or telephoned, all that her father wished to know. The necessary goal had been reached, the necessary communication between the mental and physical planes had been established, and she proceeded to reply, compelled by some unknown influence which forced her to speak.
In the library Narvaez wiped the perspiration from his bald forehead, and sighed heavily with the efforts he had made to bring things to this point. But he did not speak with his own tongue, lest the sound of his voice should reach the girl in those far-off regions and make her rebellious. Silently he impressed his desires upon Enistor, and softly Enistor voiced those same desires, while he looked at the motionless figure of his daughter reclining in the deep arm-chair.
"What do you see?" asked Enistor, scarcelymoving his lips, and in a thin silvery utterance, soft as a summer breeze, came the answer:
"I am looking on Chaldea, far back in the deeps of time. No—not looking: I am living in Chaldea, as the priestess of a great Star-Angel."
"The name of the Star-Angel?"
"You would call Him, Mars, although He has a different name in Chaldea. He is the Planetary Spirit of Mars, and I serve in His temple. The Chaldeans worship the Host of Heaven, as manifestations of the Logos, whose visible symbol is the Sun. The Star-Angels of the seven planets are the seven Spirits before the Throne, mentioned in the Book of Revelation. The Logos is not the Absolute God from Whom emanated the Universes, but the Being whose Body and Creation is the Solar System. He is the only God our consciousness can conceive. He is the One of this creation manifesting Himself in the many: we are the many ever striving to return to Him, by learning through experience how voluntarily to choose good instead of evil."
"Do the Chaldeans worship the Stars themselves?"
"No. They worship the Angels of the Stars: the power inherent in each planet which emanates from the mightier Power of the Sun-Logos. And His Power emanates from the Absolute God."
"Has each Angel a temple?"
"Yes! And the Logos has a Temple also. These are all placed on a wide plain in a fashion symbolising the Solar System: like an orrery. One collection of temples stands on one plain, another on another plain, and so on throughout Chaldea. On this plain where I live there is the great Temple ofthe Sun and near it the Temple of Vulcan; next that of Mercury, then that of Venus, until the last temple far away in the distance is dedicated to Neptune. The situations of the temples are reckoned to scale, and represent our System."
"Is there a Temple to the Earth-Angel?"
"No! There is one to the Moon-Angel, and near it a small dome of black marble typifying the Earth. But it is not a shrine."
"You are a priestess in the Temple of Mars?"
"Yes! I wear a brilliant scarlet dress. The priestesses of Venus are in sky blue, and those of the Moon are clothed in silver, while the priests of the Sun wear cloth of gold. Each Star-Angel has His particular colour, and each is worshipped in His own shrine. On great festivals all meet in the great Sun-Temple to worship the Logos."
There was a restless movement in Don Pablo's corner. Enistor, overwhelmed with curiosity, was asking questions on his own account, thereby irritating his master, who wished for more intimate information. A twist of pain brought Enistor to his senses, and he hastily submitted his will to that of Narvaez.
"Do you see me?" was the next question asked, as instructed.
"Yes! You are the High Priest of Mars: a big fat man like a Chinaman, with a rather cruel face. All the Chaldeans are like Chinese with yellow skins and oblong eyes."
"Perhaps they are Chinese."
"No! No. They are Turanians, the ancestors of the Mongolians. I am of the Aryan race, and Idon't like the Turanians, who are brutal and lawless. Perhaps that is why you are so cruel."
"Am I cruel? Why am I cruel?"
"You like power, and desire to see every one at your feet. I am a vestal of the temple gifted with clairvoyance, and you use me to foresee the future and learn about other spheres. All this knowledge you turn to your own advantage. Oh, you are wicked. You really don't worship the Star-Angel."
"Whom or What do I worship then?" asked Enistor, again breaking away from Don Pablo's guidance, as the picture drawn by the clairvoyante did not please him.
"The Powers of Darkness: the Elemental Powers. Sometimes you steal away from the Temple after dark to see a very evil man, who is teaching you how to get power in a wrong way, through offering blood sacrifices."
"Who is the man?" questioned Enistor, still using his own will, in spite of signals from Narvaez.
"He is Don Pablo now. Then he was an Atlantean magician: one of the Lords of the Dark Face. You are his pupil, or rather his slave. He uses your intellect to make himself more powerful. There is some good in you, however, and you try to break away every now and then, but the chains that bind you are too strong."
For the first time Don Pablo spoke in a quietly enraged tone. "Stop asking questions on your own account, or I shall hurt you, Enistor."
A shiver passed through the body in the chair, as if that hated voice had penetrated even to where Alice was, and had recalled the detestation in whichshe held the speaker. Enistor was minded to rebel, but he swiftly considered that if he did so at the moment, he might break the spell, and then would not learn about the threatened danger. Therefore, he was obedient and set himself to obey his evil master. Narvaez became quiet again, and through his instrument asked another question.
"Do you live in the Temple of Mars?"
"Yes, along with other vestals. But none of them possess such great clairvoyant powers as I do, and that is why I am valuable to you. But you use my powers for bad purposes and I hate you. Behind you there is Don Pablo, with his dark designs, but I am supported," her voice took on a note of triumph, "I am supported by a good man, who is a priest of the Sun. He works for good, and is trying to take me away from your influence."
"That is The Adversary."
"I don't know whom you mean by The Adversary. But he is now Dr. Eberstein. Oh, and I see Douglas. He is a Chaldean noble and he loves me. He wants to carry me away from the Temple and from you, as you are killing me with the demands you are making on my powers of clairvoyance. I love Douglas: I want to run away with him. But he is hot-headed and foolish and will not take me away quietly. Dr. Eberstein tells him, when he goes to the Sun-Temple, that if he waits everything will come out right. But Douglas will not wait."
"Do you see Hardwick?" asked Narvaez, through Enistor's tongue.
"He is an old beggar-man who sits outside the Temple. I give him alms every day and speak kindlyto him. That is why he is so willing to help me now."
"Does Douglas carry you away?"
There was a pause, and then the voice of the girl came sweet and clear: "I am in the Sun-Temple. It is a great festival. All the worshippers of the various Star-Angels are there in the dress and colour appointed to each. The Temple is built in the form of a cross with a hemispherical dome where the arms of the cross meet. It is something like St. Paul's Cathedral. But between the arms of the cross are passages leading to vast halls, so the plan is different. In the east arm of the cross there is an altar to the Sun, and the west arm contains an altar to the Moon. The great northern altar is for the whole Solar System, I think. The worship now is at this altar."
"What is the worship?" asked Enistor, to Narvaez' unspeakable annoyance.
"It is night, and along the roof of the northern arm of the cross there is a slit through which the stars shine. Mars is being worshipped, and his ruddy light shines through the slit on to a large silver mirror—I think it is silver, but I am not sure. It is concave. Beneath it is a brazier on which I am throwing incense. The priests and priestesses are singing and the worshippers are bowing their heads, as the Star gleams from the mirror through the grey smoke of the incense. And then——"
"Have done with all this nonsense," said Narvaez angrily, in his own voice. "Tell me about the carrying away."
The body in the chair shivered again, but the soul was obedient to the powerful influence. "Douglas isthere with many of his slaves. Towards the end of the service, he breaks through the crowd of priests and takes me up in his arms. The priests try to stop him, but many are struck down. There is a great tumult. You, father, as the High Priest of Mars, thrust at Douglas with a spear snatched from one of the slaves. Douglas lets me down for a moment, as I have fainted, and stabs at you with a knife. Oh," the voice shook with horror, "he has stabbed you in the throat. You fall and die, cursing him. I see Douglas carrying me away. Don Pablo is running beside him. He is drawing the life from me, and Dr. Eberstein is looking on sadly. He can do nothing: he can do nothing."
"Why not?" demanded Narvaez harshly, and now careless of using Enistor as his instrument.
"I owe you a life. I fell into your power when you were a magician in Atlantis—in the City of the Golden Gates. You have a right to take my life, or to forgive me, as I killed you centuries before."
"But I did not forgive you. I never intend to forgive you," said Narvaez grimly. "You were mine then and suffered: you shall be mine again and pay."
"Never! Never! By taking my life in Chaldea you lost your power. I was reborn free from your influence of the past, and you have tried again and again to get me once more under your spell. But Dr. Eberstein guards me. He will save me from you this time, as he has saved me before."
"He won't," declared the Spaniard savagely. "You shall marry me and again become my slave to use your powers for my benefit."
"I shall not marry you. I paid my debt of the past in Chaldea when you killed me. Douglas carried me safely away and then found that I was dead: you drew the life out of me in revenge for what I did to you in Atlantis. Douglas would have been killed for his sacrilege, but Dr. Eberstein as his friend, the Priest of the Sun, helped him to escape from Chaldea. Douglas became a hermit and died very penitent. Dr. Eberstein told him that he had lost me for thousands of years through his hot-headed haste, but that we would come together again when the past was expiated."
"But it is not," cried Don Pablo triumphantly. "Montrose owes Enistor a life. To pay that he must give his own life: he is at your father's mercy."
"Douglas will pay the debt, but not in the way you wish him to pay it."
"Enistor will enforce payment."
"Yes," said the Squire, his eyes glittering. "Now I know why I hated him the moment we met. He killed me in Chaldea: he has robbed me in England; I shall demand the payment of both debts."
"I feel the evil forces that are working in you both," said Alice wearily, "and they hurt me. The book is closed: do let me come back."
"Stay where you are and search out the future," commanded Narvaez, with a snarl of fierce command. "Search."
"I cannot see the future. It is on a higher plane where past and present are one," came the thin, tired voice, for the girl was becoming exhausted physically with the long-continued strain.
"Go to the higher plane: you can do so."
"Something stops me. There is a barrier I cannot pass. You are not permitted to know. Father and I and Douglas have to work out by our knowledge in the flesh the drama begun in Chaldea. This much is allowed: no more."
"But the danger which threatens me?"
"There are black clouds: red clouds: wicked clouds. You are cutting yourself off from the Life of God: you are isolating yourself from creation. You want to drag my father with you, out of space, out of Time, out of the arms of God. Oh, it is too terrible: it is too terrible. Let me return."
"See the future," shouted Narvaez, defiant as Satan in his isolating pride.
"I cannot: I dare not: I will not. I call upon Christ for help. Save me from this wicked being, O Power of Love. Deliver me from evil, Our Father who art in Heaven."
What happened at the moment Enistor never quite knew. He saw Narvaez advance to the middle of the room, looking powerful and making defiant gestures of insane pride. Then all the strength seemed to leave him, and he dropped on the floor like a stone, becoming motionless and powerless, a mere mass of evil matter uncontrolled by his wicked will. At the same time Alice stirred, sighed, opened her eyes and looked through the dim lights to where her father gripped the mantelpiece appalled at the conquest of his dark master by some invisible power he could neither hear, nor see, nor feel.
"You wish to speak to me about Douglas, father?" asked Alice languidly, and taking up her life at the point it had ceased when Narvaez laid his wickedspell upon her. "Oh!" she rose with a gesture of repulsion as she saw the prostrate form. "Don Pablo. I would not have come if I had known he was here."
"That is all right, Alice," said Enistor, recovering his will-power and speech. "He only came a short time ago, and withdrew into the shadow while I spoke to you about Douglas."
"But I didn't see him fall. I didn't hear him fall!" stammered the girl.
"The perfume made you faint for the moment," said the Squire, taking the lamp from behind the screen. "We must postpone our talk, Alice, as the heat of the room has made Narvaez faint. Go to bed. I shall attend to him."
"Good-night," said the girl, without arguing, and touching her father's lips with her own she went away. The hour of darkness had passed, and though she felt languid—with the strain she supposed that she had endured in the drawing-room—yet the light had returned and she felt safe.
Enistor, left alone, touched the old man, wondering how he would be able to revive him, as this was no ordinary faint. But the moment Alice left the room Narvaez sat up, apparently his usual self.
"Did The Adversary strike you down?" asked the Squire, still pale and unstrung.
"No! It was One I do not choose to name. But I defy Him! I defy Him!" He shook his fists in the air with impotent anger. "I shall win yet! I shall win yet!"
THE DISCIPLE OF LOVE
Next day at noon, Montrose returned to Tremore accompanied by the doctor, to be received by the housekeeper, as Mr. Enistor had gone to see Señor Narvaez, and Alice was still in bed. Knowing from Eberstein that the girl had been submitted to an ordeal, Douglas anxiously demanded if she was ill. But, much to his relief, the answer immediately reassured him.
"Ill, sir? No, sir," responded the housekeeper, who was a voluble talker, "though she did go to bed early last night with no dinner and only a glass of milk to keep her up, which isn't enough nourishment for a young thing like Miss Alice. But she was sleeping so lovely that the master said she had better sleep on. But I think she is getting up now, sir, and when she knows that you are here, sir——" the housekeeper looked significantly at the young man and departed smiling, with her sentence uncompleted. She was an old and valued servant, who quite approved of the match.
"You are sure Alice hasn't suffered?" demanded Montrose for the twentieth time, and prowling restlessly about the drawing-room.
"Nothing to speak of," answered the doctor serenely, explaining himself as he would have done to a child. "Narvaez and his pupil were permitted to go so far and no farther. They have learned whatthey wished to know, and I hope the knowledge will do them both good."
"What is the knowledge?"
"There is no need for you to know at present, my friend. You saw what you did see in my London house, and with that you must be content to work out your present Destiny."
"If it is a case of Destiny I am helpless, doctor."
"I think not. Certain things must happen because you put certain forces into action five thousand years ago. But such events will work out for good or bad, as you apply the Law of Love or the Law of Hate. Man makes his own Karma, but he can modify the same to a certain extent by using his will-power."
Montrose sighed. "I am so much in the dark, I don't know how to act."
"You will know how to act when the time comes, if you are true to the teaching of Christ," said Eberstein gently.
"But if you would only advise me what to do?"
"In that case you would only gain the Karma of obedience: good in itself, but less than is demanded. Your future has to do at the moment with Alice and her father and Narvaez, but if I told you the precise reasons why you have come together, you would be hampered in your actions. Watch and pray, my friend, and abide by the Law of Love. Then you will receive the guidance of the Blessed One, who is building up Himself within you."
"I shall do my best."
"That is all that is asked of you and of any one. If a man acts up to the highest ideal he can conceive, nothing more is demanded. And one word ofwarning, Montrose. Alice is quite ignorant of the use made of her clairvoyant powers last night. Therefore do not ask indiscreet questions."
"Do you mean to say that she does not know what she told Narvaez and her father?"
"No, she does not. Ignorance is as necessary for her as for you at present."
Montrose objected. "If you would only point out the pitfalls to both of us, doctor, we might avoid them."
"These same pitfalls are the creation of your own free-will, and of your own free-will you must avoid them," said Eberstein decisively. "Only experience will teach the necessary lesson which has to be learned, and by making yourself receptive to the Eternal Ego you can always gain the guidance of the Great One, who works through that same Ego."
The young man sighed again, for this epigrammatic teaching was so difficult and—to him—so involved that he wondered why Eberstein did not speak plainly and have done with it. Walking to the window and looking out at the dark woodland a stone's-throw away, where the trees were being tormented by a blustering wind, he pondered over the problem, but could find no answer thereto. After a pause, Eberstein advanced and laid a kind hand on his shoulder, reading his thoughts and pitying his perplexity.
"Our teaching is meant to stimulate the mind," he said impressively. "Therefore hints are given rather than full explanations, and the pupil has to use his brains to expand those hints into the necessary knowledge. In this way he progresses, as what hegains by this system of instruction is thoroughly learned, which would not be the case if his path were made easier."
"I think Christ taught in the way you mention," mused Montrose. "I remember how many of His sayings puzzled me—and for the matter of that still do."
Eberstein nodded. "Regarding earthly things He spoke plainly, as in the case of giving tribute to Cæsar, because people could understand. But as they were unable to comprehend heavenly things the Blessed One could only instruct them in parables, and give hints. By doing this last He roused those He spoke to into puzzling out the meaning."
"Give me an example."
"The Four Gospels are filled with examples. To take one instance. When the people asked: 'Who is this Son of Man?' Jesus replied, 'Yet a little while is the light with you!' If the people could have connected the saying about the Light of the World with this speech, they would have grasped the fact that He spoke of Himself. He was the Son of Man: He was the Light of the World. But," quoted Eberstein sadly from St. John's Gospel, "though He had done so many miracles before them, yet they believed not on Him."
Before Montrose could comment on this speech, Alice entered the room and flew like a homing bird to her nest in his arms. She looked weak and very pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and had a general appearance of debility. For the moment she did not notice the doctor, but could only weep on her lover's breast. Mindful that he was not to ask indiscreetquestions, Douglas could only smooth her hair and whisper comfortable endearments. After a time, Alice responded to this gentle treatment.
"I am so glad you have come, Douglas," she faltered wearily. "Last night I had two hours of great suffering in this very room. I felt as though all light were withdrawn and just as if I had fallen into an Abyss of Darkness. Then I heard, or fancied I heard, my father calling for me and went into the library, where he was sitting almost in the dark. He said that he wanted to speak about you. But I saw Señor Narvaez lying on the floor, and refused to stay. I went to bed and slept for hours and hours. I have just got up."
"Why was Señor Narvaez lying on the floor?" asked Eberstein quietly, and more to set her at her ease than because he wished for a reply.
"Oh, doctor, how are you? I am so glad you have come. Don't think me rude not saying anything. I feel so upset. My father said that Señor Narvaez had fainted with the heat of the room. It was hot."
"How long were you in the library?" asked Douglas with anxiety.
"Only a few moments. I could not bear to stay where Señor Narvaez was."
Eberstein glanced significantly at Montrose to draw attention to the fact that Alice was quite unaware of the flight of time when undergoing her ordeal. Then he asked her to sit down and spoke gently as he took her two hands within his own. "You said that you were in darkness. That is not the case now."
"No, it isn't, doctor. The feeling of light came backwhen I went to bed, and I did not feel so miserable. I was glad to sleep. And yet," Alice looked at the two men in a bewildered manner, "the rest doesn't seem to have done me any good. I feel as if I had walked miles. Do you think that what I suffered from the darkness last night has exhausted me?"
"Yes," replied Eberstein quietly. "That was the hour of your Gethsemane. Now you are feeling better: the light is around you again: the life-forces are rebuilding your strength. Look into my eyes."
Instinctively obedient, Alice did so. Already through the doctor's hands she felt a warm current passing up her arms and into her body, but when she met his steady grey eyes the magnetism of the life-power he was giving her tingled throughout her entire frame. The brightness returned to her eyes, the colour of health flushed her cheeks: her nerves ceased to thrill with pain, and her muscles grew strong. In silent astonishment Montrose looked at the rapid transformation which was taking place under his eyes. From a colourless statue, the girl warmed into rosy life, and when Eberstein dropped her hands she sprang to her feet to stand in the shaft of sunlight which had broken through the heavy clouds of the autumnal day.
"Oh, I feel that I have been born again to a more splendid life," she cried in ecstasy, and looked as though she were transfigured, which certainly was the case. "Oh, thank you, doctor: thank you: thank you. How did you do it?"
"Yes. How did you do it?" asked Douglas, also intensely curious.
"I suppose you would call it a case of hypnotic suggestion," smiled Eberstein, putting his explanation in simple words which they could understand. "I have stimulated Alice's will to command the inflowing of the life-currents from the vital body into the physical, and have added a trifle of my own strength, which I can well spare."
"It is wonderful: wonderful," cried Alice, radiant with unusual life, and smiling like the goddess of spring.
"All things are wonderful, because all things are God. He manifests in the many. Thank Him, my child!"
Alice was silent for a moment and breathed an inward prayer of profound gratitude, which was echoed in the thoughts of her lover. Then she descended to earth and apologised for the absence of her father. "He went to see if Don Pablo was better, and will be back to luncheon. That was the message he sent up to my room."
"I quite understand," said Eberstein, nodding gravely. "Of course Don Pablo is an old man, and has not much strength."
"You could give it to him," said Alice, rejoicing in her glorious vitality.
"I could but cannot, because Don Pablo would refuse to accept help from me, and I could but will not, because he would turn such strength to an evil purpose."
Alice nodded and shivered. "He is not a good man. I hate him."
"You must pity him. He is not good, it is true, but that is because he is dominated by his lower self.For him as for all men God has nothing but everlasting love."
"But he is my enemy," remonstrated the girl, perplexed. "I feel that he is my enemy, doctor."
"What of that? Does not the Great Master tell us to love our enemies?"
"But that standard is impossible to reach," said Montrose quickly.
"If you act in your own strength it is. But all things are possible with God, and only in His strength do we conquer. Do not think of Narvaez as bad, for by doing so your angry thoughts add to the burden of evil he bears. Send thoughts of love and pity to refresh his struggling soul, which the animal forces are striving to overwhelm."
"I am sorry for him in one way," murmured Alice. "At least I think that I am sorry."
"You have every reason to be, but I don't think you truly are," said Eberstein dryly. "Because you read the letter of the commandment and do not comprehend the spirit. I cannot very well explain either to you or to Montrose, as your limitations are yet great. But I ask you both to pity the man and to hope that he may grow better."
"Oh, I shall do that," said Douglas readily. "There is great room for improvement, isn't there?"
"In Narvaez, as in you, and in Alice, and in Enistor. Who can afford to throw a stone at any one?"
Montrose flushed a trifle at the implied rebuke, but never dreamed of defending himself, as he looked upon the doctor as an oracle to be listened to and obeyed with all reverence. Eberstein smiledapprovingly when he noted how the young man curbed both thought and word, then changed the subject by commenting on the impressive looks of the house and its commanding situation. Alice was gratified to hear Tremore praised, but hinted at the uncomfortable atmosphere of the place.
"I always feel as though I were battling against depression here, doctor. The rooms and furniture are both so sombre."
"Every house has its own psychic atmosphere, which comes from the sayings and doings of those who live in it," explained the visitor. "I cannot say that the influence of this beautiful place tends to calm the spirit."
Montrose agreed. "When I first came here I felt that it was a kind of battle-ground, full of tumult and war."
"And so it is. Invisible forces of good and evil strive here continuously as I can feel. You sense them also, Alice, as you are more or less clairvoyant."
"Yes, I know," admitted the girl, with a nervous glance round the room. "And the evil is stronger than the good, I fancy."
"At present that is the case. But we must change the conditions and make this house a centre of holy power to bless instead of curse."
"You will have to keep Narvaez out of the place then," observed Douglas abruptly. "And that will be difficult, as he is a friend of the Squire's."
"Quite so," said Eberstein calmly. "I came here to aid Mr. Enistor, as well as to help you and Alice. He is being wrongly guided by Narvaez."
As if the mention of his name had evoked hispresence, the Squire made his appearance unexpectedly. He did not look pleased, as Don Pablo had refused to see him, for the first time during their acquaintanceship. Enistor therefore returned in a somewhat gloomy frame of mind, but smoothed his brow and assumed his company manners when he greeted the doctor. He knew well enough that his guest was "The Adversary" so often mentioned by Narvaez, but knew also how the Law of Love which Eberstein obeyed prevented hostile treatment. He therefore felt safe and indeed rather contemptuous, since he was unfettered by scruples himself, and did not care what means he employed against the aims of the doctor, whatever they might be. Yet the downfall of Narvaez on the previous night should have warned him against over-confidence, and would have done so had not the man been so besotted with intellectual pride. Eberstein knew of this Satanic attitude, but gave no sign of his knowledge beyond a pitying glance at Enistor's powerful face when they shook hands.
"You have a beautiful place here," he remarked lightly. "I was just admiring the position when you came in."
"It is well enough, but a trifle lonely," said the Squire rather ungraciously. "Still, I can amuse you by showing our family treasures, which are many. How do you feel, Alice?" he asked, turning abruptly to his daughter, and anxiously wondering if she was aware of the information she had given on the previous night. "I hope you are better."
"Oh, I am quite well now, father. Dr. Eberstein has done me good."
"I have an excellent bedside manner," interposed Eberstein quickly, as he did not wish Alice to explain too much. "And I have cheered up Miss Enistor."
"That is well. She had a fit of the blues last night, and would not listen to what I had to say to her in the library."
"Señor Narvaez was there and he always makes me uncomfortable," protested the girl in a troubled way.
"You are full of fancies, Alice," retorted Enistor in an acid tone. "And as Narvaez had fainted you might have remained to help me. However, it was just as well you retired to bed and slept for such a long time, as you were not quite yourself last night. Well," he added with an assumption of benevolence, "as Montrose was away from you, it was natural you should feel dismal. Ah, these young men, doctor: they steal the hearts of our children."
"And exhibit no shame in doing so," said Eberstein humorously. "Cupid was ever a robber, Mr. Enistor."
Then the gong thundered an invitation to luncheon, which proved to be a truly delightful meal. Alice, with her recovered strength, was filled with the joy of life, and Douglas, seeing her in such good spirits, was very merry in his turn. As to the doctor, he made himself so entertaining in talking of all that was going on in the great world that Enistor unbent considerably, and silently acknowledged that The Adversary was better company than Narvaez. By the end of the meal, both Squire and doctor were on the best of terms. Not for many a long day had such gaiety reigned at Tremore.
After luncheon Alice and Douglas stole away after the fashion of lovers who desire solitude to express their feelings freely. Enistor was left alone to entertain his guest, and conducted the doctor to the library, to show him certain black-letter folios which were of great antiquity and great value. Eberstein, charmed with the treasures of the library and with the spacious room, revealed himself to be no mean judge of books and furniture and ancient manuscripts. More than ever Enistor felt that this debonair gentleman was not to be feared and became uncommonly friendly with him.
"I wish you would come and stay here for a week, doctor," he said impulsively. "It is such a pleasure to meet any one so well read and well informed on all subjects as you are."
"You flatter me," responded the doctor cordially. "I should be delighted to accept your invitation, and may do at a later date. Meanwhile, I have business which detains me in Perchton for a short time. But you have the society of Señor Narvaez," he added, with a keen glance. "And I hear from Mr. Hardwick, whom I met yesterday, that he is most entertaining."
"Hardly the word to be used," said Enistor composedly, and wondering why the reference was made. "He is learned and serious."
"I don't see why learning need necessarily involve seriousness. Knowledge should make one happy, and happiness shows itself in gaiety."
Enistor, fidgeting with a parchment, frowned. "Do you think that knowledge should make one happy?"
"Why not, if the knowledge be rightly applied?"
"In what way?"
"To help others less learned."
"Why should it be?" demanded Enistor defiantly.
"Why should it not be?" countered the doctor swiftly. "What is the use of hiding one's light under a bushel?"
"That is a strange sentiment from you, doctor. It implies vanity, as if you wished others to see and envy your light. Well, I suppose that would be a source of gratification to any one."
"It is but a narrow mind that finds gratification in possessing what another person lacks. You will find the explanation of my real meaning in saying what surprises you in the text: 'Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works and glorify your Father which is in heaven.' It is the Father who does the works, and the Father therefore should surely receive the praise."
"Who is the Father?"
"In the greater sense God, in the minor degree The Ego, which is a part of God. Through the minor power the greater power works, and to Him be the glory, Mr. Enistor. I daresay you know something of these things."
"I know a great deal," said the Squire in a proud tone, "but I do not interpret them as you do. If I do anything I take the praise to myself. It is I who do it, not this Father, big or little, you talk about."
Eberstein quoted solemnly: "Thou couldst have no power at all against Me, except it were given thee from above."
"That is from the Bible, I take it," said Enistorscornfully. "Well, you see, I don't believe in the Bible. It is a series of old documents filled with contradictions and mistakes and impossibilities."
"Ah, you think so because you read the letter and do not understand the spirit. If you were not so limited you would comprehend the true meaning of the contradictions and mistakes which puzzle you."
"They don't puzzle me," retorted the other resentfully. "Such rubbish is not worth puzzling about. And I am not limited in any way."
"Ah. Then your knowledge is as wide as that of—shall we say Narvaez?"
"No. But then he is an older man and has had more time to study. But I am learning swiftly."
"And the personality you know as Squire Enistor of Tremore is taking all that learning to use for its own ends."
"Why not, when such personality is myself?"
"The lower self: all the self you know," corrected Eberstein serenely.
"What other self is there?"
"The Greater Self: that spark of God, which is you—the Eternal You. Bring your learning to That, Enistor, and you will become One with the Great Father through Christ the Son by the influence of the Holy Ghost."
"Well, if I am that Greater Self, as you say, I work for myself, and therefore deserve praise for my work and the reward also."
"You work only for the limited self which you know. You are not aware of your Greater Self, because it is veiled from you. All you are doing at present is to thicken those veils instead of thinningthem. Are you not aware that God is the One manifesting Himself in us, the Many? We are all striving to return to Him, the source of our Being. This being the case, through life after life we have to widen our limitations, so that instead of knowing ourselves as man—as you do—we come to know ourselves as gods, one with the Great God, yet individualised for His holy purpose. Why do you seek to limit your powers, to circumscribe your knowledge?"
"What rubbish you talk, doctor," cried the Squire, opening his eyes in genuine amazement. "Why, I am trying hard to increase my knowledge and gain power."
"Power for yourself," said Eberstein quickly, "and by so doing you are narrowing your circle of action. By giving, you widen out to the consciousness of the Deity: by taking, you build yourself a little hut in which you sit as a very shabby little god."
"But Narvaez has powers you do not dream of."
"I know more about Narvaez than you think, Mr. Enistor. He is doing in a much greater degree what you are striving to do in a smaller way under his misguided instruction. Was not the warning given last night in this very room enough to shake your faith in his powers?"
The Squire started back frowning. "You know what took place?"
"Of course I know, and you know that I know. Come, Enistor, let us talk freely, for I want to help you, and you need more help than you dream of. Narvaez calls me The Adversary, and so I am: not so much adverse to you and him, as to your doings. Yourspirit is one with my spirit, as is that of Narvaez', and I wish to aid that other part of myself to fight against the animal self which is trying to overpower it. The spirit cannot be harmed overmuch truly; but the soul can be made a slave to the senses."
"Have you come here to measure your strength against mine?" demanded Enistor in a furious manner.
Eberstein smiled. "If I put forth my strength against Narvaez, much less against you, the result would surprise you. But I act under the Law of Love, which gives every man free-will, and does not allow domination."
"Narvaez was dominated last night," admitted the Squire reluctantly. "Did you strike him down?"
"No. A Great Power struck him down in very mercy, as he was going too far, and it is hoped that the warning may turn him from his evil ways. He is my brother as well as you are, Enistor, and I wish to help you both."
"I don't want your help, unless you can make me rich and powerful."
"I could make you both, and you would use what I gave you to damn yourself yet deeper. Narvaez is dragging you down to the abyss into which he is surely descending. In Atlantis he lured you into his nets by promising to gratify your desire for personal power over men; by giving you wealth to pander to your animal passions. Life after life, as in Chaldea, he has made you more and more his slave by working through your senses."
"I am not a slave!" cried Enistor indignantly.
"Indeed you are. To Narvaez and to your ownevil passions. You, who are a god in the making, obey him. Like Judas Iscariot he is a son of perdition and wishes to make you one also, because your intellect is useful to him. Again and again, in many lives, you have been helped in order that you may break away from this bondage; but you will not, and until of your own free will you elect to break away, nothing can be done to save you."
"Where is the boasted power of Christ?" sneered Enistor contemptuously.
"Poor soul, why blaspheme? Christ stands at the door of your heart waiting until you open the door. He does not enter unless He is invited, so how can He use what you call His boasted power, unless you will accept His aid. Humble yourself, Enistor. Say as did the prodigal son: 'Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.' Then you will learn how great is His mercy: how sweet His compassion."
"I refuse: I refuse! I am myself: none shall rule me."
"Narvaez rules you, and will you bend to him rather than to the Holy One?"
"I make use of Narvaez!"
"He makes use of you rather. Oh, blind, blind! Already he is plotting and scheming to gain you riches in this life as he did in others, so that he may bind you the more securely to him."
"If that is the case why don't you thwart his schemes?" taunted Enistor.
"He has free-will, and must act according to his own judgment. Moreover, those he plots against are delivered into his hand by their own acts. One is,at all events. Alice escaped from his rule in Chaldea when he slew her by his black magic, and since then he has striven vainly to enchain her again. Montrose is at his mercy and at yours, because of the crime he committed in the Temple of the Star-Angel. He stabbed you and carried away a vestal, in spite of my warnings. For this reason Narvaez has power over him, and as, through love, the Karma of Alice is connected with the Karma of Montrose, she has to suffer in a vicarious way. But Narvaez cannot rule her."
"He can rule Montrose however," sneered the Squire.
"Not in the way you think. Ignorance has made Montrose helpless, as he sinned through blind passion. But he has not deliberately given himself over to the Dark Powers as you have."
"I have not given myself over."
"You have—believe me you have," insisted Eberstein. "And even now your evil master fears lest you should escape, as your soul is striving mightily. There are germs of good in you which I am trying to awaken. Now a great chance is being given to you to escape from the bondage of sin. See that you take it."
"What chance?"
"Montrose owes you a life: he is possessed of a fortune which you think you ought to have. Forgive him his sin against you, and admit that he has a right to keep the fortune. Then your chains will break."
"And if I refuse?"
"The greater will be your sufferings, both in this life and in others."
"You threaten, do you?"
"I plead and warn. But I see that you will not listen, therefore I talk in vain." Eberstein was silent for a moment, then added quietly, "But it may be that the Blessed One working through Montrose may save you yet. Great is the mercy of God and great is His patience."
Eberstein then left the room. Enistor gazed after him with a sneer. "Why, I believe he is afraid of me," he muttered, with inconceivable foolishness.