"Stop!" said the voice.
Now glancing round, Barnabas beheld a man, a small man and slender,
whose clothes, old and worn, seemed only to accentuate the dignity
and high nobility of his face.
Bareheaded he advanced towards them and his hair glistened silver
white in the sunshine, though his brows were dark, like the glowing
eyes below. Upon his cheek was the dark stain of blood, and on his
lips was a smile ineffably sweet and gentle as he came forward,
looking from one to the other.
"And pray, sir," inquired the Viscount, sitting cross-legged upon
the green, "pray, who might you be?"
"I am an apostle of peace, young sir," answered the stranger,
"a teacher of forgiveness, though, doubtless, an unworthy one."
"Peace, sir!" cried the Viscount, "deuce take me!--but you are the
most warlike Apostle of Peace that eyes ever beheld; by your looks
you might have been fighting the Seven Champions of Christendom, one
down, t' other come on--"
"You mean that I am bleeding, sir; indeed, I frequently do, and
therein is my joy, for this is the blood of atonement."
"The blood of atonement?" said Barnabas.
"Last night," pursued the stranger in his gentle voice, "I sought to
teach the Gospel of Mercy and Universal Forgiveness at a country
fair not so very far from here, and they drove me away with sticks
and stones; indeed, I fear our rustics are sometimes woefully
ignorant, and Ignorance is always cruel.
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