Rebecca's face was full of a strange radiance which she could not subdue before her mother's hard, inquiring gaze.

Her cheeks burned with splendid color, her lips trembled into smiles in spite of herself, her eyes were like dark fires, shifting before her mother's, but not paling.
"Ephraim see 'em all go by half an hour ago," said her mother.
Rebecca made no reply.
"If," said her mother, "you stayed behind to see William Berry, I can tell you one thing, once for all: you needn't do it again." "I had to see him about something," Rebecca faltered.
"Well, you needn't see him again about anything.

You might jest as well understand it first as last: if you've got any idea of havin' William Berry, you've got to give it up." "Mother, I'd like to know what you mean!" Rebecca cried out, blushing.
"Look 'round here at me!" her mother ordered, suddenly.
"Don't, mother." "Look at me!" Rebecca lifted her face perforce, and her mother eyed her pitilessly.
"You ain't been tellin' of him you'd have him, now ?" said she.

"Why don't you speak ?" "Not--just." "Then you needn't." "Mother!" "You needn't talk.

You can jest make up your mind to it.