Pembroke

se was only one story high, and there were no chambers. A number of little bedrooms were

re in a semi-circle-Caleb Thayer, his wife Deborah, his son Ephraim, and his daughter Rebecca. It was May, but it was quite cold; ther

ative air, and Rebecca's red cheeks bloomed out more brilliantly in the heat of the fire. She sat next her mother, and her smooth dark head with its carven comb arose from her Sunday kerc

and stared at him with slow regard. He eyed the smooth, scented hair, the black satin vest with a pattern of blu

and a slight lisp, which seemed to make it more impressiv

m inquired, with a chuckle and a

blue eyes frowned around his sister

o position. "Jest wanted to know

s a handsome youth; his profile showed clear and fine in the light, between the sharp p

ned the door, his mother herse

r than nine o'clock,

mething unintelligibly, b

Sabbath night," said his mother, in quick return. She

uickly, and shut th

d make him come back an' shut that

rah's blue eyes gleamed with warlike energy as she listened: she conf

was all snowed over with cherry blossoms. Three great cherry-trees stood in a row through the centre of the

be a frost. From their apple orchard came a large share of the Thayer income, and Barnabas was vitally interested in such matters now, for he was to be married the last of June to Charlotte Barnard. He often sat down with a pencil and slate, and calculated, with intricate sums, the amounts of his income and their probable

felt sensitive on the subject of Charlotte's bonnet, and resolved that she should have a white one trimmed with gauze ribbons for s

f he might not put the money it would cost into a bonnet for Charlotte, but he had not dared to propo

parks buyin' your clothes while yo

t feel as if I ought to take it, and I guess you'd better kee

ded in the bottom of his little hair-c

rt stretch of new fence, and a new cottage-house only partly done. The yard was full of lumber,

r to the second story, and viewing with pride the two chambers under the slant of the new roof. He had repelled with scorn his father's suggestion that he have a one-story instead of a story-and-a-half house. Caleb had an inordinate horror and fear of wind, and his father, who had built the house in which he lived, had i

rooms like those in his father's house, and behind them the

cool air and low light. Outside was a long reach of field sloping gently upward. In the distance, at the top of the hill, sharply outlined against th

field that was quite blue with violets, and he noted that absently. A team passed on the road outside; it was as if

h the open door into the bedroom which he would occupy after he was married to Charlotte, and through others into the front rooms, which would be ap

one, nor the joy to come to him within those walls, but to all life and love and nature, although he did not comprehend it. He half sobbed as he turned away; his thoughts seemed to dazzle his brain, and he could not feel his feet. He passed through t

ent up the hill. "I shall lie in my coffin in the north room, and it will all be over," but his heart leaped

se of a fair head in the ruddy glow. There was a knocker on the door; he raised it gingerly and let it fall. It made but a slight clatter, but a woman's shadow moved immediately across the yard outside, and Barnabas heard the inner d

ed Charlotte, turning her face away. She

bas, all radiant, and his face p

said Charlotte, in a chiding voice

r house. Give me one mo

deep voice, and the

Her father, mother, and Aunt Sylvia Crane sat there in the red gleam of the firelight and gathering twilight. Sylvia sat a l

e which was slightly aggressive. Charlotte'

r, Barnabas?" inq

tty well,

mself, when Cephas Barnard spoke in a voice as sudden and gruff as a

thin face in a pale film of white locks and beard, but his black eyes gleamed out of it with sharp fixedness. Barnabas looked back at him unflinchingly, and there was a curious likeness between the

daughter's hand, or venture upon other loverlike familiarity. That was the reason w

like a wind of the soul, escaped him. He saw always Charlotte's beloved features high and pure, almost severe, but softened with youthful bloom, her head with fair hair plaited in a smooth circle, with one long curl beh

lighted the fire, and they should soon go in there by themselves. They usually did of a Sunday night, but so

done so to-night. Charlotte had acquiesced forlornly; there was nothing else for her to do. Early in her chi

arnard herself had spelt out her husband like a hard and seemingly cruel text in the Bible. She

fairly decisive, and her soft, meek-lidded eyes gleamed hard and p

arah Barnard. And she said it as i

Injun without a mite of rye! Makin' you eat nothin' but greens an' garden stuff, an' jest turnin' you out to graze an' chew your cuds like horned anim

retort stanchly, and her sister would sniff back again. Charlotte was as loyal as her mo

nsequence of her acquiescence with he

tender involuntary impatience and longing in every nerve of her body, but nobody would have suspected it; she sat there as calmly as if Barnabas were old Squi

had prohibited the front room; he was indignant about that, and the way in w

f they felt by some subtle sense the brewing of a tempest. Charlotte unobtrusively moved her chair a little nearer her

s was a Democrat, and Cephas was a Whig, and neither ever forgot it of the other. None of the women fairly understood the point at issue; it was as if they drew back their f

once or twice, but it was like a sp

," she said; "don't, Barnabas. I think there's going to be a frost to-night; don't you?" But nobody h

other. Cephas sprang up, waving his right arm fiercely, a

n't you ever darse darken these doors again while the Lord Almighty reigns!" The old man was almost

ned Barnabas, in an awful voice; then the d

ed forward. "You set down!" her father rep

ed, glancing at her husband in terror

t, but she did not heed that. She ran across the yard, calling: "Barney! Barney! Barney! Come back!" Barnabas was already out in the road; he never turned his head, and kept on. Charlotte hurried after him. "Barney," she cried, her voice breaking with sobs-

an angry, imperious tone, "if you'

rcely help her feet running after him, but she would not follow him any farther. She did not call him a

at down on the flat, cool door-stone, and remained there as dusky and motionless against t

s of her mottled purple skirt were as vaguely dark as the foliage on the lilac-bush beside her. All at once the flowering branches on a wide-spreading apple-tree cut the gloom like great silvery wings of a

ure twisted itself around the front corner of the house like a vine. "Charlott

looked a

the gloom around the corner and beck

te did

r's dreadful afraid you'll catc

h frequent pauses like a wary bird. When she got close to Charlotte she reached down and touched her shoulder timidly. "Oh,

e back," Charlotte whisp

'll catch cold. I come out of the front door on purpose so you can go in that way. Your father's asleep in his chair. He told your mother not to unbolt this door to-night, a

the house as before, but Charlotte walked boldly along in the moonlight. "Charlotte, I'm

ck puff of wind in their faces. They heard Mrs. Barnard's voi

Charlotte called out. "I'll

her mother's vo

I'll go right home with Aunt Sylvia. Come," she said, imperatively to her aunt, "I am not going to

her sister in a trembling voice (nobody knew how af

ould scarcely keep up with her. She slid along in her wake, panting softly, and lifting her skirts out of the evening dew. She was trembling with sympathy for Charl

ome right." But Charlotte made no reply. Her dusky skirts swept around the

ome. He recognized Charlotte's motions as quickly as her face, and knew Sylvia's voice, although he could not distinguish what she said. He watched them turn the corner of the other ro

d that it became almost holiness, in which he had been that very night, flung him to lower depths when it was retroverted. He had gone back to first causes in the one and he did the same in the other; his joy had reached out into eternity, and

demanded, setting his face ahead in the darkness; and he did not see Cephas Barnard's threatening countenance, but another, gigantic with its vague outlines, whi

hat have I done that it should be taken away? It was given to me only to be taken away. Why was it given to me, then?-that I might be mocked? Oh, I am mocked, I am mocked!" he cried out, in a great rage, and he struck out in the darkness, and his heart leaped with futile pa

ullenly. Great gusts of cold wind came in at the windows at intervals, a loo

en he thought with the force of an oath that he did not care if there was a frost. All the trees this spring ha