Lady Phipps drew close to him, with both hands extended, and a world of gentle sympathy beaming in her face. "My friend, my dear, good friend, there is nothing wrong; Elizabeth is well." "Thank God," broke from the old man, while his clasped hands unlocked themselves and fell gently downward. "I was only wondering where she had hid herself," continued the lady. "Surely, when her father was waiting, she should have been here." "Nay, I can tarry for the child without weariness, so that she is but well," answered the old man, heaving a deep sigh of relief. "Nevertheless, if she is near at hand--" "I will inquire, I will inquire," said the lady, turning to leave the apartment, but at that moment the door was thrown hurriedly open, and Elizabeth Parris advanced toward them, her face pale, her eyes red and swollen with weeping. "Why Bessie, child, what is this?" exclaimed Lady Phipps, "are you ill?" Samuel Parris arose to his feet, holding out both arms with more passionate affection than had ever broken the iron bands of his reason before. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" The young girl flung herself into those outstretched arms, and clung to her father's neck, sobbing violently. "Oh, father! father! take me home! take me home! I am wretched here--oh, so wretched!" The old man smoothed her hair with his hand, and kissed her hot forehead with more than feminine tenderness. "Hush thee--hush thee, my child," he murmured. Then, turning his face to Lady Phipps, he added: "Forgive her, lady, she is but a child." "She is ill, I fear," answered the governor, looking at his wife. The lady shook her head and smiled. Elizabeth lifted her face from the minister's bosom, and tossed the golden hair away from it in childish defiance. "No, no, I am not ill," she sobbed, "but I can bear this no longer: send me away--let me go back to my father's house--I will not remain under the same roof with her." "With whom?" asked Sir William; "what means this agitation, little one?" "With this Mistress Stafford; I will not live another day in the same house with her--I believe that she is a witch." Samuel Parris suddenly unclasped the wild girl from his embrace, and held her at arm's length, with horror in his face. The other listeners started at her passionate utterance of a word which had already grown so terrible throughout New England. Sir William spoke first; but even his usually firm voice was husky. "What has she done, my daughter, that you should speak thus?" "She has made me wretched; nobody loves me, nobody cares for me now, and it is all her work!" "Shame, child, shame!" expostulated Lady Phipps. "Where is Mistress Stafford now?" "Where?" exclaimed Elizabeth, with increased violence; "go into the garden, and you will find her seated by Master Norman, looking into his face with her wicked eyes, and charming him with her serpent tongue." "Is this true?" cried Sir William; "girl, is this true? Why did you leave them?"