here, and would question his right to force his way among them?

As this thought passed through the boy's mind, he was moving slowly
forward, his eyes glancing now here, now there, when all at once the roots
of his hair were stirred with an emotion which, if not fear, was certainly
far removed from tranquillity. From the darkest corner of the room he had
seen a human figure silently and stealthily creeping toward him. Now, as
he fixed his eyes upon it, it stopped, and seemed to return his stare. His
senses did not deceive him; there it stood, distinctly outlined, though
its features were indistinguishable by reason of the shadow that fell upon
them. But what living thing--living with mortal life at least--could
exist in a room that had been closed for sixty years?

Now certainly this Archibald, who had not yet completed his fourteenth
year, possessed a valiant soul. That all his flesh yearned for instant
flight does not admit of a doubt; and had he fled, this record would never
have been written. Fly, however, he would not, but would step forward
rather, and be resolved what manner of goblin confronted him. Forward,
therefore, he stepped; and behold, the goblin was but the reflection of
himself in a tall mirror, which the obscurity and his own agitation had
prevented him from discerning. The revulsion of feeling thus occasioned
was so strong that for a moment all strength forsook the boy's knees; he
stumbled and fell, and his forehead struck the corner of the ebony
cabinet. He was on his feet again in a moment, but his forehead was
bleeding, and he felt strangely giddy. The candle, too, was getting near
its end; it was time to bring this first visit to a close. He took the
candle from the sconce, passed out through the door, traversed the tunnel,
and thrust the silver key into the keyhole. The stone door yielded before
him; he dropped what was left of the candle, and slipped through the
opening into broad daylight. The first object his dazzled eyes rested upon