re Charlotte Barnard lived.

Barnabas looked out and saw the smoke rising from the chimney of the
Barnard house. There was a little hollow in the field that was quite
blue with violets, and he noted that absently. A team passed on the
road outside; it was as if he saw and heard everything from the
innermost recesses of his own life, and everything seemed strange and
far off.

He turned to go, but suddenly stood still in the middle of the
kitchen, as if some one had stopped him. He looked at the new
fireless hearth, through 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 apartments of simple state, not
so closely connected with every-day life. The kitchen windows would
be sunny. Charlotte would think it a pleasant room.

"Her rocking-chair can set there," said Barnabas aloud. The tears
came into his eyes; he stepped forward, laid his smooth boyish cheek
against a partition wall of this new house, and kissed it. It was a
fervent demonstration, not towards Charlotte alone, 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 the north front room, which would be the
little-used parlor, to the door, and suddenly started at a long black
shadow on the floor. It vanished as he went on, and might have been
due to his excited fancy, which seemed substantial enough to cast
shadows.

"I shall marry Charlotte, we shall live here together all our lives,
and die here," thought Barnabas, as he went up the hill. "I shall lie
in my coffin in the north room, and it will all be over," but his
heart leaped with joy. He stepped out proudly like a soldier in a
battalion, he threw back his shoulders in his Sunday coat.

The yellow glow was paling in the west, the evening air was like a
cold breath in his face. He could see the firelight flickering upon
the kitchen wall of the Barnard house as he drew near. He came up
into the yard and caught a glimpse 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
door open. He threw open the outer one himself, and Charlotte stood
there smilin