"We have no right to examine it, knowing, as we do, the owner," he said, hastily. "The spring is closed. It is evidently some portrait."
"But the water may have penetrated to the painting and will destroy it."
"True, true!" The youth, still reluctant to give up the locket, touched the spring, and with difficulty opened it.
The water had indeed penetrated the clasp, but a crystal underneath protected the portrait, which was that of a middle-aged man, evidently of the highest rank, for his dress was of the most costly material, and enriched with several jewelled orders which were easily distinguished as belonging to the English court.
"It is a strange face," said Parris, bending his head to examine the portrait, "hard as iron and full of worldly pride. Young man, I have seen this face before; but where—when?"
"How can I tell?" answered the youth, who was gazing wistfully at the face.
"Yes," he said, after a moment; "it is hard as iron, but a grand countenance, nevertheless. That man would have died for an idea."
"Died for an idea!" repeated the minister; "how many have done that, yet the idea a false one? But where have I seen that face?"
The youth covered the portrait with its gold again, and the two walked on more rapidly for the time they had lost. All at once young Lovel stopped as if some important idea had flashed upon him.
"Sir," he said, eagerly, "did I not hear your name yesterday, or have I dreamed it over night—Samuel Parris—was it in truth from your own lips I heard the name?"