"Don't touch her!" expostulated the girl, seizing his arm; "I would rather see you pick up a snake--I will call the domestics." "For shame, Bess!" returned Norman, with indignation; "how can you be so cruel?" "You shall not touch her, I say you shall not!" she repeated, with unwonted vehemence; "I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot." "Get me some water, and be silent!" he said, sternly, shaking off her hand and raising the prostrate form. Elizabeth Parris looked on for a moment in silence, while he swept back the hair from that white face, and threw off the scarf which covered her head; then, before he could repeat his request, she rushed into the house, and closed the door violently behind her. Norman uttered an exclamation of passionate reproach, and raised Barbara in his arms. He placed her on a bench at the end of the porch, where the roses and honeysuckles hung down in luxuriant profusion. He tore off the blossoms with reckless haste, and scattered the dew over her forehead, raising her head upon his shoulder again with the fondness of a brother, while the touch of those rich masses of hair sent a thrill to his heart almost painful from its intensity. Many moments elapsed ere Barbara Stafford revived. She opened her eyes at length, and looked around in the starlit gloom. "Am I dreaming?" she whispered; "what has happened?--where am I now?" "You fainted, Madam," said Norman, soothingly; "you have not been well since your shipwreck, I think." "Fainted--did I--and wherefore? Who was here? I feel as if I had been in a dream--that man--surely I was in his arms--he kissed my forehead--my lips--" "Sir William mistook you in the darkness for Lady Phipps," said Norman, in explanation. "I remember, and they looked so strangely at me--all of them--that young girl--" "You must excuse Elizabeth, Madam; she is a mere child--capricious and spoiled." "Where are they all? Why did they leave me here alone with you? Could they not deign me even a moment's pity and assistance?" "Sir William and Lady Phipps knew nothing of your illness--they had gone into the house--are you well enough now to follow them?" "Not yet--not yet. I will not intrude upon them--I am better here." "I will bring you some water--" "Nothing--only let me be quiet for a few moments, and I shall be well. These flowers are oppressive--help me away." He supported her to a seat at a little distance, and resumed his position by her side. Barbara sat leaning her forehead upon her hand, lost in thought, and shivering slightly, as if with cold. "The night air is chill," said Norman; "I will get your cloak." He took up the rich mantle and folded it about her; she offered no resistance, looking down at him as he bent forward, and smiling with her patient, resigned smile, in sign of thankfulness for his care. "Are you better now?" he asked, inexpressibly moved by the beautiful resignation of her look.