The last words of this sentence were uttered in a whisper: even the word witchcraft was full of awe to that young heart. Then, struck with a sudden resolution, she flung the door open. "I will see for myself! I will see for myself!"
She went out into the passage, opened the door of Barbara Stafford's room and stole in on tip-toe, holding her breath. Barbara Stafford was in bed—sound asleep. The moment her head touched that pillow she had fallen into the death-like slumber which follows extreme fatigue. Her garments lay in a heap on the floor, save the scarlet cloak, which hung in its usual place against the wall.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
ALL OR NOTHING.
The third week after Samuel Parris's return from Boston, Norman Lovel arrived at his house. When we first met this young man he had the face of an angel and the impulsive manners of a child; even then he possessed a depth and earnestness of feeling which only broke out when the occasion was important enough to draw forth high and brave qualities.
But a few weeks of thoughtful experience had changed him greatly. He had all at once taken a leap into manhood. The bloom and grace of extreme youth had risen into the calm dignity of quiet self-reliance. This was a result most likely to follow the young man's intimate companionship with a woman like Barbara Stafford, who always gave to others the self-respect which never forsook herself.
When Elizabeth saw the young man coming, she forgot all coldness, and uttering a joyful cry, ran into the little garret room, where Abby Williams sat brooding over her thoughts.
"Oh, Abby! dear, dear Abby! he has come! Norman is here! Run and look at him as he dismounts. Then say if he is not the brightest, the handsomest—oh, do come!"
In her eagerness, she almost lifted Abby from her seat on the bed, and kissed her averted face again and again. Abby was taken by surprise: her heart gave a wild leap, and her cheeks grew red and warm. The good, true heart for a moment flung off its bitter load.