She was hurrying down the hill.

Cephas had just come home with the news.

Jonathan Leavitt had spread it over the village from the nucleus of the store where he had stopped on his way home.
Sarah Barnard sat down on the snowy stone-wall among the last year's blackberry vines, and cried as if her heart would break.

Finally Hannah, after joining with her awhile, turned to and comforted her.
"Land sake, don't take on so, Sarah Barnard!" said she; "it's all over now.

Sylvy's goin' to marry Richard Alger, an' there ain't a man in Pembroke any better off, unless it's Squire Payne.