She went through the kitchen with them. When the door was shut behind them she turned to Caleb, who had shuffled along at her heels. "Oh, father, why didn't you tell me if you knew, why didn't you tell me?"

she gasped out.

Caleb stared at her. "Why, mother?" he returned.

"Didn't you know I thought I'd killed him, father? didn't you know I thought I'd killed my son? An' now maybe I haven't! maybe I haven't!

O Lord, I thank thee for letting me know before I die! Maybe I haven't killed him, after all!"

"I didn't s'pose it would make any difference," said Caleb, helplessly.

Suddenly, to the old man's great terror, his wife caught hold of him and clung to him. He staggered a little; his arms hung straight at his sides. "Why, what ails you, mother?" he stammered out. "I didn't tell you, 'cause I thought you'd be blamin' him for 't. Mother, don't you take on so; now don't!"

"I--wish--you'd go an' get Rebecca an' Barney, father," said Deborah, faintly. She suddenly wavered so that her old husband wavered with her, and they reeled back and forth like two old trees in a wind.

"Why, what ails you, mother, what ails you?" Caleb gasped out. He caught Deborah's arm, and clutched out at something to save himself.

Then they sank to the floor together.

Barney had just come up from the field, and was at his own door when his father came panting into the yard. "What is it? what's the matter?" he cried out.

"Mother's fell!" gasped Caleb.

"Fell! has she hurt her?"

"Dunno--she can't get up; come quick!"

As Barney rushed out of the yard he cast a glance up the hill towards Charlotte's house; in every crisis of his life his mind turned involuntarily to her, as if she were another self, to be made acquainted with all its exigencies. But when he came out on the road he met Charlotte herself face to face; she had been over to her Aunt Sylvia's.

"Something is wrong with mother," Barney said, with a strange appeal.

Then he went on, and Charlotte was at his side, running as fast as he. Caleb hurried after them, panting, the tears running down his old cheeks.

"Father says she's fell!" Barney said, as they sped along.

"Maybe she's only fainted," responded Charlotte's steady, faithful voice.

But Deborah Thayer had more than fainted. It might have been that Ephraim had inherited from her the heart-taint that had afflicted and shortened his life, and it might have been that her terrible experiences of the last few months would have strained her heart to its undoing, had its valves been made of steel.

Barney carried his mother into the bedroom, and laid her on the bed.

He and Charlotte worked over her, but she never spoke nor moved again. At last Charlotte laid her hand on Barney's arm. "Come out now," said she, and Barney followed her out.

When they were out in the kitchen Barney looked in her face. "It's no use, she's gone!" he said, hoarsely. Charlotte nodded. Suddenly she put her arms up around his neck, and drew his head down to her bosom, and held it there, stroking his cheek.

"Oh, Charlotte," Barney sobbed. Charlotte bent over him, whispering softly, smoothing his hair and cheek with her tender hand.

Caleb had gone for the doctor and Rebecca while they tried to restore Deborah, and had given the alarm on the way. Some women came hurrying in with white faces, staring curiously even then at Barney and Charlotte; but she never heeded them, except to answer in the affirmative when they asked, in shocked voices, if Deborah was dead.

She went on soothing Barney, as if he had been her child, with no more shame in it, until he raised his white face from her breast of his own accord.

"Oh, Charlotte, you will stay to-night, won't you?" he pleaded.

"Yes, I'll stay," said Charlotte. Young as Charlotte was, she had watched with the sick and sat up with the dead many a time. So she and the doctor's wife watched with Deborah Thayer that night. Rebecca came, but she was not strong enough to stay. The next day Charlotte assisted in the funeral preparations. It made a great deal of talk in the village. People wondered if Barney would marry her now, and if she would sit with the mourners at the funeral. But she sat with her father and mother in the south room, and time went on after Deborah died, and Barney did not marry her.

Chapter XII

A few days after Deborah's funeral Charlotte had an errand at the store after supper. When she went down the hill the sun had quite set, but there was a clear green light. The sky gave it out, and there seemed to be also a green glow from the earth. Charlotte went down the hill with the evening air fresh and damp in her face. Lilacs were in blossom all about, and their fragrance was so vital and intense that it seemed almost like a wide presence in the green twilight.

She reached Barney's house, and passed it; then she came to the Thayer house. Before that lay the garden. The ranks of pease and beans were in white blossom, and there was a pale shimmer as of a cobweb veil over it.

Charlotte had passed the garden when she heard a voice behind her:

"Charlotte!"

She stopped, and Barney came up.

"Good-evening," said he.

"Good-evening," said Charlotte.

"I saw you going by," said Barney. Then he paused again, and Charlotte waited.

"I saw you going by," he repeated, "and--I thought I'd like to speak to you. I wanted to thank you for what you did--about mother."

"You're very welcome," replied Charlotte.

Barney ground a stone beneath his heel. "I sha'n't ever forget it, and--father won't, either," he said. His voice trembled, and yet there was a certain doggedness in it.

Charlotte stood waiting. Barney turned slowly away. "Good-night," he said.

"Good-night," returned Charlotte, quickly, and she fairly sprang away from him and down the road. Her limbs trembled, but she held her head up proudly. She understood it all perfectly. Barney had meant to inform her that his behavior towards her on the day his mother died had been due to a momentary weakness; that she was to expect nothing further. She went on to the store and did her errand, then went home.

As she entered the kitchen her mother came through from the front room. She had been sitting at a window watching for Charlotte to return; she thought Barney might be with her.

"Well, you've got home," said she, and it sounded like a question.

"Yes," said Charlotte. She laid her parcels on the table. "I guess I'll go to bed," she added.

"Why, it's dreadful early to go to bed, ain't it?"

"Well, I'm tired; I guess I'll go."

The candle-light was dim in the room, but Sarah eyed her daughter sharply. She thought she looked pale.

"Did you meet anybody?" she asked.

"I don't know; there wasn't many folks out."

"You didn't see Barney, did you?"

"Yes, I met him."