But, even so, he drew away, and, wheeling his horse,
pointed towards the twinkling lights.
"Drive on!" he cried to the post-boy.
"Barnabas, wait!"
"Drive on!" he cried, "whip--spur!"
"Barnabas, stay! Oh, Barnabas, listen--"
But as Cleone strove desperately to open the door, the chaise
lurched forward, the horses broke into a gallop, and Barnabas,
sitting there beneath the ancient finger-post, saw imploring hands
stretched out towards him, heard a desolate cry, and--he was alone.
So Barnabas sat there amid the gloom, and watched Happiness go from
him. Very still he sat until the grind of wheels had died away in
the distance; then he sighed, and spurring his jaded horse, rode
back towards Headcorn.
And thus did Barnabas, in his folly, forego great joy, and set aside
the desire of his heart that he might tread that Harder Way, which
yet can be trod only by the foot of--A Man.
CHAPTER LXXII
HOW RONALD BARREYMAINE SQUARED HIS ACCOUNT
A distant clock was striking the hour as Barnabas rode in at the
rusted gates of Ashleydown and up beneath an avenue of sombre trees
beyond which rose the chimneys of a spacious house, clear and plain
against the palpitating splendor of the stars.
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