Deborah nodded in response; she said very little.
Indeed, Deborah had become very silent.

She scarcely spoke to Caleb.
For hours after he had gone to bed the poor bewildered old man could hear his wife wrestling in prayer with the terrible angel of the Lord whom she had evoked by the stern magic of grief and remorse.

He could hear her harsh, solemn voice in self-justification and agonized appeal.

After a while he learned to sleep with it still ringing in his ears, and his heavy breathing kept pace with Deborah's prayer.
Deborah had not the least doubt that she had killed her son Ephraim.
There was some talk of the church's dealing with her, some women declared that they would not go to meeting if she did; but no stringent measures were taken, and she went to church every Sunday all the rest of the winter and during the spring.
It was an afternoon in June when the doctor's wife and Mrs.Ray went into Deborah Thayer's yard.

They paused hesitatingly before the door.
"I think you're the one that ought to tell her," said Mrs.Ray.
"I think it's your place to, seeing as 'twas your Ezra that knew about it," returned the doctor's wife.