"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.