And she went back to the kitchen, and sat down in the rocking-chair and cried a long time, with her apron over her face.

Her heartache was nearly as sore as her daughter's up-stairs.
Charlotte did not speak to Barney again all summer--indeed, she scarcely ever saw him.

She had an occasional half-averted glimpse of his figure across the fields, and that was all.

Barney had gone back to the old house to live with his father, and remained there through the summer and fall; but Caleb died in November.

He had never been the same since Deborah's death; whether, like an old tree whose roots are no longer so firm in the earth that they can withstand every wind of affliction, the shock itself had shaken him to his fall, or the lack of that strange wontedness which takes the place of early love and passion had enfeebled him, no one could tell.