"Nay," said Barbara, lifting the wretched girl from her feet and resting that beautiful head on her bosom; "it is not your fault that I am here, simple child; destiny wove its own cruel links around me. Do not mourn for the harmless part assigned to you in the tragedy which will close to-morrow. The evidence you gave was true in all its parts. If superstition blinded my judges, the fault rests with them only, my daughter." A strange thrill connected the two women as Barbara uttered the word daughter. Elizabeth lifted her blue eyes with a sudden glow of pleasure, and the prisoner kissed her twice upon the white forehead, as if she were sealing that young heart for its baptism of love. "Norman, come hither, and take your wife from my arms," said the prisoner, turning her face, all glowing with generous exaltation, on the young secretary. "I give her to you. Love her--trust her; and remember on this earth God has no more precious gift for any man than the love of a good woman." Norman Lovel came forward and took Elizabeth gently from the arms that supported her. "What is it you ask of us?" he said, addressing Barbara in a trembling voice. "I, for one, am ready for any thing." "Nay," said Barbara, "I ask but that your happiness shall be assured before I leave you." The young man shook his head. "There will be little happiness for us after that," was his sorrowful answer; "but it will be some consolation if we can mourn together." "Norman, you love this girl?" "Better than my life--better than any being on earth, save one, who, living or dead, will ever share my heart with her." Tears swelled into Barbara Stafford's voice before she could answer. "You will not grudge me a place in his memory?" she said, turning to Elizabeth. "Oh! If it were to save your life, I would give him up! I would--I would!" sobbed Elizabeth. "It will make the few hours left to me almost happy, if you become his wife now," said Barbara, placing her hand on the little book which lay near her. "Elizabeth, your father has consented that it shall be even as I wish. Do you love this man well enough to wed him in the gloom of a prison?" "Do I love him! But that I loved him so madly you would never have been in this strait," cried the girl. "Then let it be as I wish, dear child. Love makes its own sunshine even in a dungeon. Norman, take her hand. Samuel Parris, they are ready."