The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

Millicent, while I did not know at the time, I do know now, and regret nothing.”

“Nothing?” she murmured.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Shall I go on?”

She nodded again and, lifting her eyes, took a long straight look at her father’s portrait. Perhaps he was here now, and knew, and was in a way glad she had come. She noted, too, with a sort of thankfulness that Derrick did not sit at the desk.

“When I came first,” he continued, “I saw Perkins. She gave me a strange impression, but it was not altogether discomforting. I took the house without consulting my sister, being attracted to it in a way that I only began to understand by degrees. I actually felt what had happened here before being told about it. That isn’t the sort of thing one can explain, but⁠—”

“It doesn’t need explanation,” she put in.

He sent her a quick, searching glance. “It helps to have you say that. Well, after we moved in, the thing, or perhaps it was the influence, grew stronger⁠—I can’t express it in any other way⁠—till presently I was sure we were meant to come. I got some details from Perkins, but they were incomplete; I was convinced that I must wait for more⁠—which would certainly be furnished from some source.” He paused, reflected for a moment, and went on rapidly. “Does it seem impertinent for me, an utter stranger, to be so interested and allow myself to be drawn into something which is not my affair? If it does, I can only assure you that it is not curiosity, or,” he added thoughtfully, “the result of anything I have done or said.”

“It is impossible to think that.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, because it brings me to Martin. Is it on account of Martin you were kind enough to come in?”

“Yes.”

“Then, some day, if you or Mrs. Millicent will tell me, I’d like to hear more about him; but meantime please be assured that Martin’s being here is all part of the rest of it. I knew what was said and thought about him when I took him on. He told me why he happened to come back at this particular time.”

“Why was it?” asked Jean swiftly.

“He had to come. Telling you that seems to explain a good many other things one can’t very well put into words. I know now that Perkins had to stay, that I had to take this house, that you had to pass this way for the first time in many months; and I know, too, that the gathering is not yet quite complete. It is all utterly intangible; there is no one point on which one can put a finger and say the reason lies there; and one of the most remarkable things is that we can meet for the first time and talk like this. It is something more than fate; it is purpose.”

She looked at him wonderingly. The room, with its poignant memories, was speaking to her now, its ancient walls vibrant with mystical messages. Here was the sounding-box of the unknown, where in times past she had thrilled to mysterious whispers. Here her father had sat⁠—himself even, with all his love, something of a mystery⁠—and here at the end his life had been snatched from him. What reason was there to assume that evil and danger had passed away? And till it did pass the tale could not be complete.

“I am not going to try and thank you,” she said slowly, “for having made my coming here so much easier than it promised to be, but when I saw Martin I knew what I had to do. Mother was with me, but she could not face it and has gone on to the village. Martin looked at me as I came in and knows why I came. He must know that.”

“Would you and your mother feel more comfortable if I sent Martin away?”

“No, you must not do that. We are in no danger from him. I mean you must not do it on our account. But there’s your sister and yourself to think of.”

He shook his head. “I am convinced that this need not trouble you. The police know of the new arrangement, and Martin knows that they know. No danger of the sort you mean lies there. I want to leave Martin to his roses and Perkins to her housework till something I cannot describe is reestablished. Beech Lodge seems to be waiting for that. Perkins and Martin are also waiting, though unconsciously. I am certainly waiting. And, Miss Millicent, I think that without knowing it you have been waiting, too.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “it’s the only thing.”

“Then, may I ask something that’s rather difficult to ask? I wouldn’t unless I believed that you too felt something that’s very difficult to express.”

“Please⁠—what is it?”

“You hold with me that we are all surrounded by influences we do not understand, and in so far as we are able to interpret them the difficult things become less threatening?”

“One cannot escape that,” she said slowly.

“I thought as much. But there are some who fight against such powers, and, believing them to be all for evil, are frightened, they know not why. If they are not frightened, they scout them. But since these powers are both for good and evil, and I believe those for good must be the strongest, it is only right to admit that the beneficent and invisible influences are always fighting for readjustments of some kind and will conquer in the end. If this were not the case, what advantage could there be in life? You believe all this?”

“I must believe it.”

“Well, my sister does not; she says she’s too practical, and I do not argue the point. Unless one can accept it, there’s no room for anything but restlessness and probably fear. So what I’d like to suggest, if I may, is that you do not say anything of all this to⁠—to anyone who does⁠—not see this