A Son of Perdition: An Occult Romance

by Fergus Hume

This was her final determination, and before Enistor could argue further she left the room, fearing a breakdown. When alone she flung herself face downward on the bed and tried to compose her mind. It was necessary that she should do so, as late at night she intended to steal out with food for her lover. Her father—as she thought—would never suspect her, and she could leave the house when he and the servants were in bed. Already the housekeeper had made up a bundle, which lay in a convenient cupboard, and would have accompanied her as chaperon, but that her mistress declined such companionship. Montrose was nearer at hand than any one suspected, so it was just as well that as few people as possible should seek the hiding-place. Alice, nerved by love to walk the lonely moors in the chilly gloom, intended to go alone, and in holding to this resolve became more heroic than she ever thought she could be. But in her heart perfect love had cast out fear, and she would have faced an army to succour the man she intended to marry.

The dinner was quiet and the evening was quiet, as Enistor spoke little and Alice was not inclined for conversation. Indeed there was nothing to say, as father and daughter were silently hostile to one another. Owing to the Squire's want of paternal affection they never had been friendly, and now that he wished to ruin her life by handing over Montrose to the police, Alice felt that she hated her father. Eberstein would have told her that it was wrong to do so, even in the face of excellent reasons. But Eberstein was absent and silent, so in this dark hour the girl had to fight entirely unaided. As a matter of fact, she was being guided along the dreadful path skilfully, and her every movement was being watched, as her every thought was known to her guardian. But her clairvoyant power being in abeyance, she did not guess this, and so far as she was aware, only the strength of her love for Douglas enabled her to battle against the dark influences which tried hard to sap her strength.

When Enistor retired to his library, Alice excused herself on the plea of a bad headache and went to her room. There she sat in the faint light of a solitary candle sending loving thoughts to the lonely lover in the cave under the cliffs. Nine o'clock struck and then ten, but it was not until eleven that the house became dark and quiet. A stolen visit to the library assured her that her father had gone to rest, so, thinking that all was well, the girl put on a warm cloak with a hood and took the basket, to leave by a side door which the housekeeper had left unlatched. In ten minutes she was through the darkling wood and on the bare spaces of the moor. But she did not see that her father was following with the skill of a Redskin on the trail. Enistor had watched and waited pertinaciously, and had little difficulty in getting on the track.

It was a stormy, blowy night, with a mighty wind rushing inward from the sea, and Alice struggled against the blast incessantly on her way to the cliffs. Every now and then there was a lull and she could hear the clamour of the waves and the thunder of the waters hammering against the rocks. In the vast hollow of the sky, black clouds were hurtling across the firmament at tremendous speed, unveiling every now and then a haggard moon, full-orbed yet with waning fire. It was a Walpurgis night, when warlocks and witches should have been abroad, rather than this delicately nurtured girl, made heroic by love. Enistor, toiling after her at a distance, wondered at a strength of character which he had been far from thinking his daughter possessed, and laughed grimly to think that unknowingly she was placing her lover within reach of the gripping hands of justice. Amidst the clash and clang of the elemental forces the girl, on her mission of love, and the man, on his errand of vengeance, staggered across the waste land drenched by the fierce rain and buffeted by the roaring winds. Occasionally a zigzag flash cut through the inky clouds, but the subsequent thunder was almost lost in the furious crying of sea and wind. Great as was the hate of Enistor to enable him to face such forces, greater was the love which strengthened Alice to attempt such a task of high endeavour.

Alice led her father down to the very verge of the cliffs, and halted there a stone's-throw from the coastguard station. Lurking in the background, the Squire strained his eyes to see her, and did see her, a momentarily clear silhouette against the pale illumination of the horizon, where the moonlight struggled to assert itself. Then a big black cloud drove ponderously across the moon, and when it passed, Alice was no longer to be seen. In some way she had descended the cliffs, and a cold feeling of fear lest she should fall and be dashed to pieces gripped Enistor's heart, rather to his surprise. He had never thought that he possessed sufficient love for Alice to make him wince in this way. But the love was evidently latent in him, and sent the man pell-mell towards the lip of the land to stay the girl from her rash adventure.

Bending over to look into the seething hell of water below, which bubbled and boiled like a witches' cauldron, Enistor caught sight, in the fitful moonlight, of a tiny dark figure dropping down to some unknown destination. Alice was safe as yet in spite of the fury of wind and wave, and scrambled down a narrow track with the sure-footedness of a goat. Not for nothing had she adventured her life in hazardous ways during the past year, and now the nerve she had gained came in useful when her lover's neck was in danger. She did not think of her own at the moment, but Enistor's heart was in his mouth, as the saying is, as he lay on his stomach peering down at the daring girl. Then a turn of the path below concealed the clambering figure from his eyes, and he debated within himself as to the best course to adopt. He was surprised to think that Montrose was concealed so near to the coastguard station, and no great distance from Tremore itself. But in the very daring of selecting so dangerous a hiding-place lay its safety, as he soon came to comprehend. But what Alice with her youth and lightness could do Enistor did not dare to attempt. He decided to wait until she came up the cliff again, and then he could force her to reveal the exact spot where Montrose lay hidden. Rolling into the shelter of a venturesome gorse bush which grew near the verge, he kept his eyes partly on the light of the not far distant station and partly on the place where the girl had descended. In this way he hoped to seize his daughter and to guard against being surprised by the Navy men, although these latter would be useful at a pinch to arrest the fugitive, when Alice was forced to reveal the truth. So Enistor lay there and the rain beat upon him, the wind blew, and the thunder rolled overhead a challenge to the tumult of the waves below.

Meanwhile Alice, never suspecting that she had led her father to within a stone's-throw of her lover's lurking-place, swung still further downward from the point where Enistor had lost sight of her. Finally the path, which was a mere goat's track, excessively narrow and dangerous, terminated in a small jagged hole no very great distance up the cliff from the sands and rocks below. It was marked by bushes, and would have passed unnoticed even by an experienced climber. The girl had found it during a day in spring, never thinking that it would ever be required for the purpose for which it was now being used. Speedily thrusting herself into this rabbit-burrow, as it might be called, she scrambled on hands and knees along a narrow passage until she emerged into a fair-sized cave. There she saw Montrose ready to greet her with a candle in his hand, and this he soon put down to take her in his arms. "My darling! My darling! How brave you are!"

"Oh, my dear! My dear! My dearest!" She could only cling to him and kiss him and feel that she had reached the heaven of his embrace. "You are trembling!"

Montrose lighted another candle from the stock she had brought and made her sit down on a block of stone fallen from the roof. "No wonder I tremble when I think of you climbing down that terrible cliff. You must not do it again. Do you hear? I would rather give myself up than expose you to such a risk. You might fall and——"