"Was it for you, Norman, for you that I have wept, and prayed, and suffered? Ah me, what agonies of fear! Why ask? you know it," here the little graceful coquetries of her sex would break in, for she began to get ashamed again—"for are you not a fellow-creature out of the church, unregenerated and worshipping——"
"You, and every thing you worship," cried the youth, seizing her hand, which he devoured with his eyes, but dared not touch with his lips. "Never mind whether I am fit to be drowned or not; give me something worth living for; tell me that one day when I am wiser and you a little older, not much, because a good deal can be done in that way after the ceremony; but tell me that you will be my wife."
His face was all a flush of crimson now, but hers grew pale as death; the last word—that holy, beautiful word—made her shiver from heart to limb. He had been too impetuous; Elizabeth Parris had never dared to think of the mystery he brought so broadly before her. Her pure maidenly thoughts had hovered round it timidly, as a shadow haunts a white lily, but she was content with the perfume, without daring to touch the flower.
"Your wife, your wife!" she murmured, and the words fell from her lips with silvery slowness, like drops from a fountain. "Your wife, and I not yet fifteen!"
"But you will think of it. I am a sad fellow to frighten you so; a sad, wicked fellow, but you will forgive it, Elizabeth; you know, out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh."
He saw her sweet lips quivering into a smile, and forgave himself at once.
"There now, you see I can quote Scripture a little, so forgive me this once. I love you till my heart aches with the joy of it. Think of this—promise me that you will."
Promise to think of it! alas, poor child, when would she think of any thing else!