kept all thy commandments from childhood? Have I ever failed to
praise thee as the giver of my happiness, and ask thy blessing upon
it? What 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
pain. The possibility that his misery might not be final never
occurred to him. It never occurred to him that he could enter Cephas
Barnard's house again, ask his pardon, and marry Charlotte. It seemed
to him settled and inevitable; he could not grasp any choice in the
matter.

Barnabas finally threw himself back on the pile of shavings, and lay
there sullenly. Great gusts of cold wind came in at the windows at
intervals, a loose board somewhere in the house rattled, the trees
outside murmured heavily.

"There won't be a frost," Barnabas thought, his mind going apace on
its old routine in spite of its turmoil. Then he thought with the
force of an oath that he did not care if there was a frost. All the
trees this spring had blossomed only for him and Charlotte; now there
was no longer any use in that; let the blossoms blast and fall!



Chapter II


Sylvia Crane's house was the one in which her grandmother had been
born, and was the oldest house in the village. It was known as the