"Nay, my friend," urged the governor. "The young man is well worthy of any maiden's love. Be content that I regard him almost as my own son. It is but gaining another child, Samuel Parris; a son who will support the declining years of your life with his strong arm." Parris cast a long, half-reluctant look at the young man, who met his scrutiny with a frank, honest return, that half drove the look of dismay from that anxious old face. "Oh, father, are you angry with us?" pleaded Elizabeth, creeping to the minister's side. "Angry! and with thee, Elizabeth?" "Nor with him? Oh, father, if you are angry with him it will break my heart!" "Break _thy_ heart, child! What! another? No, no; I have seen hearts break before now, and it was I that did it--I, a minister of God's merciful religion. Love the young man, girl; love him heart and soul. I will make no protest--give no sign." Elizabeth, smiling through the vague terror produced by the old man's emotion, drew back to Lovel's side. Parris looked at them with a strange, bewildered air. "They are waiting for something," he said, looking wistfully at Sir William. "Is it the old man's blessing? I must not withhold it, you say. They are young and fair, and love each other dearly. Ah, me! what anguish may lie buried in that word love! Yes, I will bless them. God helping me, I will bless them. Kneel down, young man--kneel, Elizabeth. When human hearts are consecrated to each other, it is a sacrament of which marriage is but the seal. Norman Lovel, take her hand--and God so deal with you as you deal with my child--Elizabeth--" Here the old man's voice filled with tears. He struggled a moment, fell upon his knees before the young couple, bowed his head earthward, and covering his face with both hands cried like a child.