Dinner was served, not in the large dining-room, used on high days and festivals, but in a small octagonal apartment, reserved for such minor occasions. Its walls were of polished white wood, gaily painted with wreaths of flowers bound with knots of blue ribbon and held by naked cupids, dimpled and rosy. There was a blue-tiled fire-place in which stood a brass cradle for the flaming coals, though at present, the weather being warm, this was filled with ferns and bulrushes. The ceiling was painted with sunset clouds, the carpet was moss-green sprinkled with bunches of daisies, and the furniture was of cream-coloured wood. In the centre stood a round table of no great size, at which the hostess and her guests took their seats. Two smart parlour-maids attended to their wants, as Mrs. Barrast preferred to dispense with footmen and butler, save when she gave a state dinner to people she did not care about.

"Frederick's friends, you know," she explained airily, when unfolding her napkin. "The people who like things-as-they-ought-to-be. I think things-as-they-ought-not-to-be are more amusing myself. More of a surprise, you know."

"If you pushed that theory to extremes, Mrs. Barrast," said Dr. Eberstein in a dry way, "you would find the world excessively disagreeable."

"Oh, I don't know, doctor. People in society all say the same things and do the same things and think the same things. I adore originality myself."

"If originality made you uncomfortable you would change your mind."

"I daresay. But that would be no novelty. I am always changing my mind!"

"Consequently your nervous system gets out of order and you have to come to me to have it set right."

"If I and others did not come to you where would your practice be?" asked Mrs. Barrast, accepting fish from the parlour-maid. "If one didn't change one's mind the world would stand still."

Dr. Eberstein laughed. "That is a deeper remark than you guess, Mrs. Barrast," he said quietly. "But there is one change of mind and another change of mind."

"Of course," the frivolous little woman opened her eyes widely, "if there were not another change of mind there would be no change at all."

"True, O Queen! You speak wiser than you know."

"Tell Frederick that, doctor. He says I have no ideas, and what I have aren't ideas at all. No! I don't mean that! But he says—well, I don't know exactly what Frederick says. Nobody ever does, especially when he gets up to make a speech in the House. But he's a dear fellow all the same, and do try that hock, doctor. It is particularly good!"

Eberstein smiled and refused, as he drank nothing but water. He looked on Mrs. Barrast as an irresponsible delightful child, who had everything to learn, yet who could not be taught, as it was impossible for her to concentrate her attention for one whole minute. A butterfly herself, she chased other butterflies and danced along a sunny path careless of whither she was going. The doctor knew that in the nature of things she would have to learn what life meant some day: but did not tell her so. Mrs. Barrast would not have understood him if he had.

While eating and listening to the remarks of Montrose, the youngest member of the party stole frequent looks at Eberstein. He was not very tall, rather stout, some years over fifty, and had a healthy clean-shaven face. Alice by no means considered him handsome, but when he smiled there was a kind and helpful look in his grey eyes which drew her to him. She felt that he was cool, wise, tolerant, and anxious to aid his fellow mortals. Mr. Montrose—so ran her thoughts—was very fortunate to have such a friend. In the hour of need Eberstein would prove staunch. Alice was positive of this although she had no experience of the man's nature. But added to the ordinary feminine intuition she possessed a subtle clairvoyant instinct, undeveloped though it was, and without any positive proof she would have staked her existence on Eberstein's being a really good and helpful man. One in a thousand.

But as a woman her feelings inclined to Montrose, since he was extremely handsome and likewise fascinating. The unusual combination of auburn hair and dark eyes was striking, and his clearly cut features of the Greek type impressed her with a sense of belonging to a thoroughbred stock. His shapely body, his slim hands and feet, his lithe active strength, suggested a racehorse perfection. A well-formed head showed that he had brains, and a resolute chin revealed courage and decision. Altogether Miss Enistor was favourably impressed with the looks of the young man who had inherited Lady Staunton's money, and thought that he would make good use of it. As to her other feeling, of his soul being familiar to her, she had not yet reasoned that out in a way to satisfy herself. At present all she knew was that she and Montrose seemed to be old acquaintances, and they chatted as if they were friends of many years' standing. Mrs. Barrast remarked this.

"You two get on very well together," she said shrewdly, when the dessert was placed on the table, and Eberstein smiled when she made the remark.

"We seem to suit one another," was Montrose's reply: then added, to avert personal remarks on the part of Mrs. Barrast: "I wonder how it is that one is repelled by some people and drawn to others at first sight."

"Ask Miss Enistor for the explanation," said Eberstein quietly.

Alice was startled by the directness of his speech. "How do you know that I can explain, doctor?"

"Oh, Dr. Eberstein knows all manner of things other people don't know," chimed in the hostess. "I am quite afraid of him sometimes. He is as wise as the sea and as deep!"

"And as useful, I hope," said the doctor, smiling genially. "However, Montrose has not yet asked Miss Enistor for a reply to his question."

The young man laughed and looked at the flower-like face of his neighbour with great admiration. "How is it some people repel while others attract?"

"The doctrine of reincarnation explains," replied the girl, forced to answer plainly while the doctor's calm, grey eyes were on her. "Those people who repel have done one an injury in some previous life: those who attract have done good, or at least have been friendly."

"Likewise in other lives?" questioned the doctor.

"Of course. Although I do not know if you believe in reincarnation?"

"Oh," Mrs. Barrast uttered a little shriek and dabbled her fingers in the bowl of rose-water at her elbow. "He believes in all manner of dreadful things, my dear. How he can do so I cannot understand, when he is so clever. I think reincarnation is rubbish myself."

"Oh, no! no!" protested Montrose.

"What! You believe in our having lived before also? Really it is very odd and queer of you. Alice too. My dear, where did you learn such awful nonsense?"

"From my father," said Miss Enistor dryly; "and if you met him, Amy, you would not think he was the man to teach nonsense!"

"Then he's got a bee in his bonnet."

"He doesn't wear a bonnet."

"Oh, Alice, you know perfectly well what I mean. He's crazy!"

Miss Enistor laughed. "I think my father is the sanest person I have ever met, Amy. Why shouldn't reincarnation be a great truth?"

"It isn't in the Bible," said Mrs. Barrast pettishly, for the conversation being beyond her was somewhat boring to her small intellect. "And what isn't in the Bible is wrong."

"You are of the Caliph Omar's opinion with regard to the Koran when he ordered the library of Alexandria to be burnt," observed Eberstein; "but if you will read St. Matthew, verse 14, chapter xi, you will find that reincarnation is plainly acknowledged. Also in St. John's Gospel, chapter ix, verses 2 and 3, it is plainly hinted at. Origen, the most learned of the Christian Fathers, believed in the law of rebirth and——"

"Oh, it's all nonsense," interrupted Mrs. Barrast, weary of the explanation.

"So be it," admitted the doctor quietly, "it is all nonsense. Your brain is the measure of the universe."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Frederick says that I haven't any brain to speak of: as if I could live if I haven't," said Mrs. Barrast incoherently. "Let us have coffee here while you gentlemen smoke. Oh, I forgot: you don't smoke, doctor. Mr. Montrose?"

"Thank you," and the young man accepted a cigarette from Mrs. Barrast's own particular case. "You smoke yourself, I see."

"Oh, yes." Mrs. Barrast lighted her little roll of tobacco. "It soothes me. I am all nerves, you know. Alice, will you——?"

"No, thank you. I am not all nerves!"

"I'm sure I wonder you aren't, living in Cornwall with sea-gulls and moors and those sort of things. You will like this coffee, Dr. Eberstein. There is a vanilla bean in each cup, which makes it so nice."

"Very good coffee," said the other, sipping gravely, and wondering if Mrs. Barrast was aware of the rubbish she talked.

The little woman apparently was not, as she conversed volubly, darting from this subject to that after the manner of a swallow. She mentioned several novels which had attracted her frivolous attention, talked of some musical comedies she had seen, criticised the fashions, told one or two tales dealing with scandals concerning various people, and in every way monopolised the conversation, until it was time to return to the drawing-room. Alice, who wished to converse with Montrose, was pleased when this move was made, as it appeared to be the only chance of ending Mrs. Barrast's airy nothings. For a few moments she was alone with her hostess and seized the chance of asking if Dr. Eberstein was a German.

"I suppose he is," said Mrs. Barrast gravely, "his name sounds like it. But I can't say what he is. He talks all languages as well as he talks English, and never says anything about his father and mother. But he's very nice, isn't he, Alice? A kind of soul-doctor, you know, who tells his patients that mind is stronger than matter. Not exactly Christian Science, but something like it. He has never come to dinner before. I'm sure I don't know why, as I have asked him dozens of times."

Alice thought that she knew the reason, which had to do with Mrs. Barrast's frothy chatter, but was too polite to put her idea into words. "What do you think of Mr. Montrose?" she asked, anxious for a second opinion.

"Good-looking but stupid," was Mrs. Barrast's verdict; "not a second idea in his head. However, he has money—your money, dear, so you ought to marry him."

"He has not got my money," said Miss Enistor tartly, "and even if he had I certainly should not marry him for his wealth."

"I daresay: you are such a funny girl. Not at all like a human being. It's silly not to eat a pear that has fallen into your mouth."

"Mr. Montrose being the pear?"

"Of course. He is head over ears in love with you already. I'm not his style evidently. Not that I care," ended Mrs. Barrast, caring very much indeed. "Go in and win, Alice, and let me design the bridesmaids' dresses. Pink silk and white——"

Mrs. Barrast's chatter about chiffons was put a stop to by the entrance of the gentlemen. As if it had been arranged, Dr. Eberstein walked over to Mrs. Barrast and engaged her in conversation. Montrose hesitated, then came to the corner wherein Alice was seated. He looked extremely handsome and attractive; she was more than ever taken with his appearance. Smiling amiably, she made room for him to sit down beside her on the ottoman, but waited for him to begin the conversation. He did so with an abruptness which startled her.

"I hope you are not my enemy," said the young man earnestly.

Alice raised her eyebrows. "Why should I be?"

"Well, you see Lady Staunton left me her money!"

"Why not, Mr. Montrose? It was her own money!"

"Yes. But do you think it was right that she should leave it away from her relations?"

"If she wished to. Why not?"

"You don't regret the loss?" He looked at her very directly.

"Not at all. I have never given the matter any consideration."

"And your father?"

"He is quite satisfied with the legacy left to him by Aunt Lucy," said Alice unhesitatingly, for she knew nothing of Enistor's wrath about the loss.

Montrose drew a long breath of relief. "I am glad to hear you say that," he said thankfully. "I don't mind telling you, Miss Enistor, that, when I heard of my good fortune, it was my first intention to surrender the money to your father. I was persuaded not to do so by Dr. Eberstein."

"He is a friend of yours?" she asked carelessly.

"The best friend a man ever had: the best friend a man could have. He cares for nothing save to do good. I see you raise your eyebrows, thinking of how he advised me to keep Lady Staunton's money. But he did so, because it was necessary."

"Why?" demanded Alice point-blank.

"I can't tell you. He said it was necessary, so I obeyed him."

"Would you have obeyed him if he had told you to give my father the money?"

"Yes," said Montrose truthfully and unhesitatingly. "And to put it plainly, Miss Enistor, it is harder for me to keep the money than to surrender it. I don't require so large an income."

"Yet my father heard from Mr. Cane that you were poor."

"Very poor. I was starving when I first made Lady Staunton's acquaintance, Miss Enistor. My parents died when I was a child, and I was brought up by an old aunt in Edinburgh. When I was eighteen years of age she passed away, leaving me what little she had. I came to London with the idea of writing poetry and plays. But my work would not sell, and when my money came to an end, I starved until I managed to drift into journalism. Even then I only managed to keep body and soul together in a Bloomsbury garret. When I saved your aunt's life, she gave me employment as her secretary to deal with her many charities. But I assure you that she never expressed any intention of leaving her money to me. If she had, I should have objected, since her brother was alive. However, she did leave me this large income, and I was ready to give it up, until Eberstein told me it was necessary to keep it."

"I wonder why?" said Alice thoughtfully, and greatly interested in the story he had told.

"Eberstein will not tell me. But he has a good reason for what he says and I always obey him, knowing his true friendship. A few years ago I was dying of starvation and pneumonia in my attic, and he saved my life. Since then I have been with him constantly. As you believe in reincarnation, Miss Enistor, I may as well tell you that there is some tie between you and me dating from former lives. What it is I cannot say, as Eberstein refuses to explain. He brought me here to-night to meet you."

"Oh!" Alice darted a swift piercing look at the young man's earnest face and wondered if he was as guileless as he appeared to be. "How did he know that I was here?"

"He is Mrs. Barrast's doctor, you know," said Montrose simply.

The girl did not reply immediately. She was considering if there was not some conspiracy on foot to entangle her in a marriage bond. Dr. Eberstein looked kindly and sympathetic, yet for his own ends he might have brought herself and Montrose together. Was he an honest man, or a schemer? Was Montrose his victim, or his accomplice? And what had she to do with either of the two men? As she thought thus, there came a wave of that same overpowering influence which she had felt in the Tremore dining-room. It seemed to sweep away the suggestion of evil with which she had almost unconsciously credited Eberstein and his young friend. "I don't understand," she said faintly and turned white.

"Are you ill?" asked Montrose, alarmed. It was plain that he did not feel the influence as she did.

"No! No! I shall be all right soon. The heat——" here she broke off with a surprised look. "Why, I am all right. I never felt better in my life. Did you feel anything just now?"

"Feel anything?" Montrose looked puzzled. "What do you mean, Miss Enistor?"

"Nothing at all," she replied quickly and evasively, for she decided that it would not do to be too frank with this young man until she knew more of him. "Only the heat, you know, and these dinners. I am a quiet country girl, Mr. Montrose, and am not accustomed to London life."

"I like the country myself, Miss Enistor," sighed the young man wistfully. "I have long since wanted to live in the country, as London in some ways worries me. I can't explain myself more fully.

"I know what you feel like," said Alice, nodding wisely. "You are sensitive as I am. To be in the country is like being in clean water, while London is like bathing in a dirty pool."

"Oh," Montrose's face flushed and brightened. "How did you guess?"

"Because I feel as you do. It is the evil thoughts that are in London which affect you. My father knows something about psychic matters and has taught me a little. That is why I believe in reincarnation."

Montrose nodded in his turn. "Eberstein first spoke to me on the subject and placed life in a new light before me. I used to wonder why I had such a bad time, and complained greatly about my lot. But he made all things plain to me. I can bear life's burdens now with a serene heart."

Alice was amused when she reflected on his position. "You have health and wealth, good looks and a good friend. It is easy to bear such burdens."

"Ah, but you forget that I went through many a long year of sorrow and bewildered pain, Miss Enistor. Besides, money does not bring happiness. I never can be enthusiastic over money."

"People with large incomes can afford to say that," said Alice cynically.

"Is that a hit at me?" retorted Montrose good-humouredly; "if so it misses its mark, I assure you. I am quite willing to give back the money to your father if Eberstein tells me to."

"Why should you obey him?"

"Because he knows more than I do. I look upon him as a guide."

Alice shook her head. "Every man should think for himself."

"So Eberstein says," replied Montrose unexpectedly; "and all he does is to give me hints, leaving me to take them or reject them as I choose. Fortunately I know how little I do know, and I am glad to have a more experienced man to help me."

"Experienced?"

"Yes. In the things of this world and the next."

"Is Dr. Eberstein religious then?"

"Not in the narrow sense in which the word religious is used. But he is a wonderful man, as you will learn when you see more of him. I don't want you to think me weak and without will-power, Miss Enistor, because I constantly quote Eberstein. But the most accomplished general is glad to obey the guidance of a man who knows the lie of the land when marching through the enemy's country."

"The enemy's country?"

"You might call the world so."

Miss Enistor moved restlessly. "What an odd conversation we are having!" she said in a nervous way. "We have only met to-night for the first time, and yet we are quite confidential."

"It is better to talk as we are doing than to gossip," said Montrose sententiously. "And how do you know we have met for the first time to-night?"

"I have never seen you before," said the girl sharply.

"You have not seen Douglas Montrose, nor have I seen Alice Enistor," was the reply. "But in other bodies, in other lives, we have been friends: the very best of friends."

"How do you know that?" asked Alice, wilfully dense, although her heart endorsed every word the young man said.

"Need I explain?" He stared at her hard.

"No," she answered after a short pause. "I can guess your meaning. When we shook hands we were drawn together by—well, I can't say."

"By the friendship of the past!"

"Yes," she hesitated; "I suppose so! But other people would think we were talking sad nonsense, Mr. Montrose."

"What does it matter what other people think?" said the young man calmly.

"Not much. But one has to consider the world in which one lives."

"Mrs. Barrast?"

"No! No! No!" Alice laughed outright and rose, as she felt that he was getting on altogether too fast. "She is very tolerant."

"That is something in her favour, considering how narrow people are as a rule in this world." Montrose got on his feet also. "Before we join her and Eberstein, let me hear you assure me that you do not look upon me as a grasping enemy who has taken your father's money."

"I assure you of that certainly," said the girl frankly, and gave him her hand with a smile. "If you had not mentioned the subject I should never have referred to it. Keep the money, Mr. Montrose, and make what use you will of it. Both my father and myself are quite content," and she said this about Enistor once more, entirely unaware of its falsity.

"You are good," said Montrose impetuously. "Few people would take a loss so kindly."

"Well, like yourself I cannot get up any enthusiasm about money. Come, let us join Mrs. Barrast."

"One moment. Shall I see you again?"

"If you like. I am staying here for a few weeks!"

"If I like." The young man's face was eloquent and the look in his eyes betrayed his heart to Alice in a moment. With a laugh to hide her confusion she turned away to join her hostess, and came face to face with Dr. Eberstein.

"Well met, Miss Enistor," said the elder man in a genial manner and staring at her very directly. "I was just coming to take Montrose away."

"Yes," called out Mrs. Barrast, "he is going, and at eleven o'clock too. So very early. What can we do with the rest of the evening?"

"I advise bed," said Eberstein pointedly.

"Bed for me," endorsed Alice gaily. "I feel rather tired."

"I don't think you do," said the doctor calmly: and to Miss Enistor's surprise on consideration she did not. But as he spoke she again felt a wave of that strange uplifting influence and drew back, startled to find that it emanated from the doctor. Eberstein smiled quietly, "Good-night!"

"Good-night, Mr. Montrose," said Mrs. Barrast pointedly. "Next time you come, talk to me as well as to Miss Enistor!"

"I apologise for my bad manners," said Montrose quickly.

"What a compliment to me!" laughed Alice, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh, you understand me, I think, Miss Enistor," he looked at her straightly.

She returned his look flushing. "I think I do," was her low reply.

"Such nonsense," said Mrs. Barrast irritably: for her the evening had not been a success.