'Mother--you don't
see'--
'See what?'
'There's--there's none of this about, is there?' he answered in a
whisper, drawing closer to her and clasping the mark upon his wrist.
'I am afraid there is, somewhere. You make my hair stand on end, and my
flesh creep. Why do you look like that? Is it in the room as I have seen
it in my dreams, dashing the ceiling and the walls with red? Tell me. Is
it?'
He fell into a shivering fit as he put the question, and shutting out
the light with his hands, sat shaking in every limb until it had passed
away. After a time, he raised his head and looked about him.
'Is it gone?'
'There has been nothing here,' rejoined his mother, soothing him.
'Nothing indeed, dear Barnaby. Look! You see there are but you and me.'
He gazed at her vacantly, and, becoming reassured by degrees, burst into
a wild laugh.
'But let us see,' he said, thoughtfully. 'Were we talking? Was it you
and me? Where have we been?'
'Nowhere but here.'
'Aye, but Hugh, and I,' said Barnaby,--'that's it. Maypole Hugh, and
I, you know, and Grip--we have been lying in the forest, and among the
trees by the road side, with a dark lantern after night came on, and the
dog in a noose ready to slip him when the man came by.
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