The governor shook his head. Saddened by his gesture Lady Phipps fell back upon her pillow, and, turning her face to the wall, fell into a leaden silence.
A knock, and a sweet, pleading voice asking entrance.
"It is Elizabeth Parris. Poor child, she has spent a terrible night," said Lady Phipps. "Have you no comfort to give her?"
"None!" said the stern man, with a quiver of the voice. "He was seen going to the shore with another person, directly after a boat was engulfed in the breakers—nothing could have lived."
"And who was that other one?" cried the lady, struck by the hesitation in her husband's voice.
Sir William arose, and came close to the bed, afraid to speak aloud with that young creature at the door.
"It was Samuel Parris."
The lady uttered a low cry, and buried her face in the pillow. Her noble heart was shaken as if it had been her own father who was lost.
Again that knock at the door, and now a low, almost harsh voice, bade the girl come in.
Sir William was hardening himself into composure, that he might tell the young girl of her bereavement, with the firmness that became his manhood.