doors again while the Lord Almighty reigns!" The old man was almost
inarticulate; he waved his arms, wagged his head, and stamped; he
looked like a white blur with rage.

"I never will, by the Lord Almighty!" returned Barnabas, in an awful
voice; then the door slammed after him. Charlotte sprang up.

"Set down!" shouted Cephas. Charlotte rushed forward. "You set down!"
her father repeated; her mother caught hold of her dress.

"Charlotte, do set down," she whispered, glancing at her husband in
terror. But Charlotte pulled her dress away.

"Don't you stop me, mother. I am not going to have him turned out
this way," she said. Her father advanced threateningly, but she set
her young, strong shoulders against him and pushed past out of the
door. The door was slammed to after her and the bolt shot, 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--"Barney, do come back. You
aren't mad at me, are you?" Barney never turned his head; the
distance between them widened as Charlotte followed, calling. She
stopped suddenly, and stood watching her lover's dim retreating back,
straining with his rapid strides.

"Barney Thayer," she called out, in an angry, imperious tone, "if
you're ever coming back, you come now!"

But Barney kept on as if he did not hear. Charlotte gasped for breath
as she watched him; she could scarcely help her feet running after
him, but she would not follow him any farther. She did not call him
again; in a minute she turned around and went back to the house,
holding her head high in the dim light.

She did not try to open the door; she was sure it was locked, and she
was too proud. She sat down on the flat, cool door-stone, and
remained there as dusky and motionless against the old gray panel of
the door as the shadow of some inanimate object that had never moved.

The wind began to rise, and at the same time the full moon, impelled
softly upward by force as unseen as thought. Charlotte's fair head
gleamed out abruptly in the moonlight like a pale flower, but the
folds 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
brooding bird. The grass in th