Probably Elizabeth Parris would not have sat down in the portico, but the night's watching had made her faint. When Norman Lovel darted off to gather up the roses he had plucked, and so rudely scattered, she sank down, watching him dreamily as he cast them away a second time, and gathered fresh ones, unmindful, poor child, that this might be a type of his character, and those poor flowers of her own fate. He came back, bringing a rich harvest of blush roses--he never gave any other to Elizabeth--with both hands wet with the dew which rained out of their hearts. "Come," he said, heaping them on the seat by her side, "let us gather up a bouquet for the breakfast-table. Lady Phipps loves flowers fresh from the thicket." Elizabeth Parris started up with a look of sudden dismay. "Lady Phipps! and I have known that you are safe all this time without telling her--how selfish, how cruel! It was almost morning before she went to her room. I am sure she has not slept." As she spoke, Elizabeth pushed open the door, and in an instant Norman saw her gliding up the broad staircase which led to the second story. He followed her into the vestibule, and began pacing up and down, turning his eyes now on the floor, tessellated with lozenges of black oak and red cedar, now upon the staircase, hoping to see the young girl descend again. But, instead of this, an imperious knock sounded from the door which he had but partially closed; at the same instant it was pushed open, and a gentleman strode through with a dull, weary step, and walked heavily up-stairs. Norman was in the lower end of the vestibule, and the surprise of this sudden entrance kept him motionless. Recovering himself, he came forward, but only in time to catch another glimpse of the governor as he entered his wife's chamber. Elizabeth had found Lady Phipps asleep, and, not daring to wake her, stole off to her own room; but the heavy step of Sir William possessed more power than her fairy tread, and the moment it sounded on the floor Lady Phipps started up and inquired wildly if the young secretary was found. The governor shook his head. Saddened by his gesture Lady Phipps fell back upon her pillow, and, turning her face to the wall, fell into a leaden silence. A knock, and a sweet, pleading voice asking entrance. "It is Elizabeth Parris. Poor child, she has spent a terrible night," said Lady Phipps. "Have you no comfort to give her?" "None!" said the stern man, with a quiver of the voice. "He was seen going to the shore with another person, directly after a boat was engulfed in the breakers--nothing could have lived." "And who was that other one?" cried the lady, struck by the hesitation in her husband's voice. Sir William arose, and came close to the bed, afraid to speak aloud with that young creature at the door. "It was Samuel Parris." The lady uttered a low cry, and buried her face in the pillow. Her noble heart was shaken as if it had been her own father who was lost.