"You are not going--there?" he whispered, frowning and nodding
towards the house.
"Yes."
"Don't!" he whispered, "don't! An evil place, a place of, sin and
shadows, of sorrow, and tears, and black despair. Ah, an evil place!
No place for Barnaby Bright."
"I must," said Barnabas.
"So say they all. Youth goes in, and leaves his youth behind; men go
in, and leave all strength and hope behind; age goes in, and creeps
out--to a grave. Hear me, Barnaby Bright. There is one within there
already marked for destruction. Death follows at his heel, for evil
begetteth evil, and the sword, the sword. He is already doomed.
Listen,--blood! I've seen it upon the door yonder,--a bloody hand! I
know, for They have told me--They--the Wise Ones. And so I come here,
sometimes by day, sometimes by night, and I watch--I watch. But this
is no place for you,--'t is the grave of youth, don't go--don't go!"
"I must," repeated Barnabas, "for another's sake."
"Then must the blighting shadow fall upon you, too,--ah, yes, I know.
Oh, Barnaby,--Barnaby Bright!"
Here, roused by the Captain's voice, rather hoarser than usual,
Barnabas turned and saw that the door of the house was open, and
that Captain Slingsby stood waiting for him with a slender,
youthful-seeming person who smiled; a pale-faced, youngish man, with
colorless hair, and eyes so very pale as to be almost imperceptible
in the pallor of his face. Now, even as the door closed, Barnabas
could hear Billy Button singing softly to the horses.