"Oh, would to God that I could die for you!" cried the young man in a burst of passionate grief.
"Hush! hush! In this world one meets with many things harder to endure than death. When that comes we may hope for such sweet pity as you give me now; but there exist sorrows which must be borne in silence, to which even a violent exit from life is happiness. Do not mourn for me, now, dear friend, for I have learned to suffer and be patient. Come, cheer up. I must find that smile on your face before we part to-night. See how your grief has disturbed me. I had almost forgotten to inquire after that sweet child, Elizabeth Parris, for in the greatest peril I did not forget that the young girl, my innocent enemy, was borne from the court insensible. Nay, do not shake that head, but tell me how much you love this pretty creature. My time is short, but I may yet have power to brighten your lives."
"There will be nothing bright for me after you are gone!" was the mournful answer.
"Nay, but I will make my very memory a blessing to you both. You must wed this girl, for she loves you dearly."
"I know it," answered the young man, lifting his head and gazing on his doomed friend through a blinding rush of tears. "And I loved her before—"
"Hush, hush! You love her now—ever will love her. There is one thing, Norman, which I think would make me die happier."
"Any thing that I can do?" he questioned eagerly.
"Yes; before I—before to-morrow it would comfort me to feel certain of your marriage with Elizabeth Parris."
"What! now, in this gloomy place, can you think of that?"
"But it is not so very gloomy. I am prepared. Now, I remember, where is the leather case which I entrusted to your keeping that day when you claimed me from the soldiers in Salem? I trust it is in safety, for when I am gone its contents shall be yours; and they are of value."