"Something," replied Rose, evasively. "I don't see how it got out, for my part. I don't believe he told anybody." Rose flushed all over her little eager face and her thin neck. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it with a catch of her breath. "I can't imagine how it got out," repeated Charlotte. Rose looked at Charlotte with a painful effort; she clutched her hands tightly into fists as she spoke. "I was coming up here 'cross lots last night, and I heard you out in the road calling Barney," she said, as if she forced out the words. "Rose Berry, you didn't tell!" "I went home and told mother, that's all. I didn't think that it would do any harm, Charlotte." "It'll be all over town, that's all. It's bad enough, anyway." "I don't believe it'll get out; I told mother not to tell." "Mrs. Thayer knew." "Maybe Barney told her." "Rose Berry, you know better. You know Barney wouldn't do such a thing." "No; I don't s'pose he would." "Don't suppose! Don't you know?" "Yes, of course I do. I know Barney just as well as you do, Charlotte. Oh, Charlotte, don't feel bad. I wouldn't have told mother if I'd thought. I didn't mean to do any harm. I was all upset myself by it. Don't cry, Charlotte." "I ain't going to cry," said Charlotte, with spirit. "I've stopped cryin'." She wiped her eyes forcibly with her apron, and gave her head a proud toss. "I know you didn't mean to do any harm, Rose, and I suppose it would have got out anyway. 'Most everything does get out but good deeds." "I truly didn't mean to do any harm, Charlotte," Rose repeated. "I know you didn't. We won't say any more about it." "I was just running over across lots last night," Rose said. "I supposed you'd be in the front room with Barney, but I thought I'd see Aunt Sarah. I'd got terrible lonesome; mother had gone to sleep in her chair, and father had gone to bed. When I got out by the stone-wall next the wood I heard you; then I ran right back. Don't you--suppose he'll ever come again, Charlotte?" "No," said Charlotte. "Oh, Charlotte!" There was a curious quality in the girl's voice, as if some great hidden emotion in her heart tried to leap to the surface and make a sound, although it was totally at variance with the import of her cry. Charlotte started, without knowing why. It was as if Rose's words and her tone had different meanings, and conflicted like the wrong lines with a tune. "I gave it up last night," said Charlotte. "It's all over. I'm goin' to pack my wedding things away." "I don't see what makes you so sure." "I know him." "But I don't see what you've done, Charlotte; he didn't quarrel with you." "That don't make any odds. He can't get married to me now without he breaks his will, and he can't. He can't get outside himself enough to break it. I've studied it all out. It's like ciphering. It's all over." "Charlotte." "What is it?"