Thesameplatformorscaffold,blackandweather–stainedwiththestormorsunshineofsevenlongyears,andfoot–worn,too,withthetreadofmanyculpritswhohadsinceascendedit,remainedstandingbeneaththebalconyofthemeeting–house.Theministerwentupthesteps.
Ifthesamemultitudewhichhadstoodaseye–witnesseswhileHesterPrynnesustainedherpunishmentcouldnowhavebeensummonedforth,theywouldhavediscernednofaceabovetheplatformnorhardlytheoutlineofahumanshape,inthedarkgreyofthemidnight.Butthetownwasallasleep.Therewasnoperilofdiscovery.
Theministermightstandthere,ifitsopleasedhim,untilmorningshouldreddenintheeast,withoutotherriskthanthatthedankandchillnightairwouldcreepintohisframe,andstiffenhisjointswithrheumatism,andcloghisthroatwithcatarrhandcough;therebydefraudingtheexpectantaudienceofto–morrow’sprayerandsermon.
Noeyecouldseehim,savethatever–wakefulonewhichhadseenhiminhiscloset,wieldingthebloodyscourge.Why,then,hadhecomehither?Wasitbutthemockeryofpenitence?
HehadbeendrivenhitherbytheimpulseofthatRemorsewhichdoggedhimeverywhere,andwhoseownsisterandcloselylinkedcompanionwasthatCowardicewhichinvariablydrewhimback,withhertremulousgripe,justwhentheotherimpulsehadhurriedhimtothevergeofadisclosure.Poor,miserableman!
Crimeisfortheiron–nerved,whohavetheirchoiceeithertoendureit,or,ifitpresstoohard,toexerttheirfierceandsavagestrengthforagoodpurpose,andflingitoffatonce!
Thisfeebleandmostsensitiveofspiritscoulddoneither,yetcontinuallydidonethingoranother,whichintertwined,inthesameinextricableknot,theagonyofheaven–defyingguiltandvainrepentance.
Andthus,whilestandingonthescaffold,inthisvainshowofexpiation,Mr.Dimmesdalewasovercomewithagreathorrorofmind,asiftheuniverseweregazingatascarlettokenonhisnakedbreast,rightoverhisheart.
Withoutanyeffortofhiswill,orpowertorestrainhimself,heshriekedaloud:anoutcrythatwentpealingthroughthenight,andwasbeatenbackfromonehousetoanother,andreverberatedfromthehillsinthebackground;asifacompanyofdevils,detectingsomuchmiseryandterrorinit,hadmadeaplaythingofthesound,andwerebandyingittoandfro.
“Itisdone!”mutteredtheminister,coveringhisfacewithhishands.“Thewholetownwillawakeandhurryforth,andfindmehere!”
Butitwasnotso.Theshriekhadperhapssoundedwithafargreaterpower,tohisownstartledears,thanitactuallypossessed.
Thetowndidnotawake;or,ifitdid,thedrowsyslumberersmistookthecryeitherforsomethingfrightfulinadream,orforthenoiseofwitches,whosevoices,atthatperiod,wereoftenheardtopassoverthesettlementsorlonelycottages,astheyrodewithSatanthroughtheair.
Atoneofthechamber–windowsofGovernorBellingham’smansion,whichstoodatsomedistance,onthelineofanotherstreet,hebeheldtheappearanceoftheoldmagistratehimselfwithalampinhishandawhitenight–caponhishead,andalongwhitegownenvelopinghisfigure.
Atanotherwindowofthesamehouse,moreoverappearedoldMistressHibbins,theGovernor’ssister,alsowithalamp,whicheventhusfaroffrevealedtheexpressionofhersouranddiscontentedface.
Shethrustforthherheadfromthelattice,andlookedanxiouslyupwardBeyondtheshadowofadoubt,thisvenerablewitch–ladyhadheardMr.Dimmesdale’soutcry,andinterpretedit,withitsmultitudinousechoesandreverberations,astheclamourofthefiendsandnight–hags,withwhomshewaswellknowntomakeexcursionsintheforest.
DetectingthegleamofGovernorBellingham’slamp,theoldladyquicklyextinguishedherown,andvanished.Possibly,shewentupamongtheclouds.
Themagistrate,afterawaryobservationofthedarkness—intowhich,nevertheless,hecouldseebutlittlefurtherthanhemightintoamill–stone—retiredfromthewindow.
Theministergrewcomparativelycalm.Hiseyes,however,weresoongreetedbyalittleglimmeringlight,which,atfirstalongwayoffwasapproachingupthestreet.
Itthrewagleamofrecognition,onhereapost,andthereagardenfence,andherealatticedwindow–pane,andthereapump,withitsfulltroughofwater,andhereagainanarcheddoorofoak,withanironknocker,andaroughlogforthedoor–step.
TheReverendMr.Dimmesdalenotedalltheseminuteparticulars,evenwhilefirmlyconvincedthatthedoomofhisexistencewasstealingonward,inthefootstepswhichhenowheard;andthatthegleamofthelanternwouldfalluponhiminafewmomentsmore,andrevealhislong–hiddensecret.
Asthelightdrewnearer,bebeheld,withinitsilluminatedcircle,hisbrotherclergyman—or,tospeakmoreaccurately,hisprofessionalfather,aswellashighlyvaluedfriend—theReverendMr.Wilson,who,asMr.Dimmesdalenowconjectured,hadbeenprayingatthebedsideofsomedyingman.Andsohehad.
Thegoodoldministercamefreshlyfromthedeath–chamberofGovernorWinthrop,whohadpassedfromearthtoheavenwithinthatveryhour.
Andnowsurrounded,likethesaint–likepersonageofoldentimes,witharadianthalo,thatglorifiedhimamidthisgloomynightofsin—asifthedepartedGovernorhadlefthimaninheritanceofhisglory,orasifhehadcaughtuponhimselfthedistantshineofthecelestialcity,whilelookingthitherwardtoseethetriumphantpilgrimpasswithinitsgates—now,inshort,goodFatherWilsonwasmovinghomeward,aidinghisfootstepswithalightedlantern!
TheglimmerofthisluminarysuggestedtheaboveconceitstoMr.Dimmesdale,whosmiled—nay,almostlaughedatthem—andthenwonderedifhewasgoingmad.
AstheReverendMr.Wilsonpassedbesidethescaffold,closelymufflinghisGenevacloakabouthimwithonearm,andholdingthelanternbeforehisbreastwiththeother,theministercouldhardlyrestrainhimselffromspeaking—
ThevenerableFatherWilsoncontinuedtostepslowlyonward,lookingcarefullyatthemuddypathwaybeforehisfeet,andneveronceturninghisheadtowardstheguiltyplatform.
Whenthelightoftheglimmeringlanternhadfadedquiteaway,theministerdiscovered,bythefaintnesswhichcameoverhim,thatthelastfewmomentshadbeenacrisisofterribleanxiety,althoughhismindhadmadeaninvoluntaryefforttorelieveitselfbyakindofluridplayfulness.
Hefelthislimbsgrowingstiffwiththeunaccustomedchillinessofthenight,anddoubtedwhetherheshouldbeabletodescendthestepsofthescaffold.
Theearliestriser,comingforthinthedimtwilight,wouldperceiveavaguely–definedfigurealoftontheplaceofshame;andhalf–crazedbetwixtalarmandcuriosity,wouldgoknockingfromdoortodoor,summoningallthepeopletobeholdtheghost—asheneedsmustthinkit—ofsomedefuncttransgressor.
Then—themorninglightstillwaxingstronger—oldpatriarchswouldriseupingreathaste,eachinhisflannelgown,andmatronlydames,withoutpausingtoputofftheirnight–gear.
Thewholetribeofdecorouspersonages,whohadneverheretoforebeenseenwithasinglehairoftheirheadsawry,wouldstartintopublicviewwiththedisorderofanightmareintheiraspects.
OldGovernorBellinghamwouldcomegrimlyforth,withhisKingJames’rufffastenedaskew,andMistressHibbins,withsometwigsoftheforestclingingtoherskirts,andlookingsourerthanever,ashavinghardlygotawinkofsleepafterhernightride;andgoodFatherWilsontoo,afterspendinghalfthenightatadeath–bed,andlikingilltobedisturbed,thusearly,outofhisdreamsabouttheglorifiedsaints.
Hither,likewise,wouldcometheeldersanddeaconsofMr.Dimmesdale’schurch,andtheyoungvirginswhosoidolizedtheirminister,andhadmadeashrineforhimintheirwhitebosoms,whichnow,by–the–bye,intheirhurryandconfusion,theywouldscantlyhavegiventhemselvestimetocoverwiththeirkerchiefs.
Allpeople,inaword,wouldcomestumblingovertheirthresholds,andturninguptheiramazedandhorror–strickenvisagesaroundthescaffold.
Whom,buttheReverendArthurDimmesdale,half–frozentodeath,overwhelmedwithshame,andstandingwhereHesterPrynnehadstood!
Carriedawaybythegrotesquehorrorofthispicture,theminister,unawares,andtohisowninfinitealarm,burstintoagreatpealoflaughter.
Itwasimmediatelyrespondedtobyalight,airy,childishlaugh,inwhich,withathrilloftheheart—butheknewnotwhetherofexquisitepain,orpleasureasacute—herecognizedthetonesoflittlePearl.
“Pearl!LittlePearl!”criedhe,afteramoment’spause;then,suppressinghisvoice—“Hester!HesterPrynne!Areyouthere?”
“Yes;itisHesterPrynne!”shereplied,inatoneofsurprise;andtheministerheardherfootstepsapproachingfromtheside–walk,alongwhichshehadbeenpassing.“ItisI,andmylittlePearl.”
“Ihavebeenwatchingatadeath–bed,”answeredHesterPrynne—“atGovernorWinthrop’sdeath–bed,andhavetakenhismeasureforarobe,andamnowgoinghomewardtomydwelling.”
Themomentthathedidso,therecamewhatseemedatumultuousrushofnewlife,otherlifethanhisownpouringlikeatorrentintohisheart,andhurryingthroughallhisveins,asifthemotherandthechildwerecommunicatingtheirvitalwarmthtohishalf–torpidsystem.Thethreeformedanelectricchain.
“Nay;notso,mylittlePearl,”answeredtheminister;for,withthenewenergyofthemoment,allthedreadofpublicexposure,thathadsolongbeentheanguishofhislife,hadreturneduponhim;andhewasalreadytremblingattheconjunctioninwhich—withastrangejoy,nevertheless—henowfoundhimself.“notso,mychild.
“Atthegreatjudgmentday,”whisperedtheminister—and,strangelyenough,thesensethathewasaprofessionalteacherofthetruthimpelledhimtoanswerthechildso.
Itwasdoubtlesscausedbyoneofthosemeteors,whichthenight–watchermaysooftenobserveburningouttowaste,inthevacantregionsoftheatmosphere.
Itshowedthefamiliarsceneofthestreetwiththedistinctnessofmid–day,butalsowiththeawfulnessthatisalwaysimpartedtofamiliarobjectsbyanunaccustomedlightThewoodenhouses,withtheirjuttingstoreysandquaintgable–peaks;thedoorstepsandthresholdswiththeearlygrassspringingupaboutthem;thegarden–plots,blackwithfreshly–turnedearth;thewheel–track,littleworn,andeveninthemarket–placemarginedwithgreenoneitherside—allwerevisible,butwithasingularityofaspectthatseemedtogiveanothermoralinterpretationtothethingsofthisworldthantheyhadeverbornebefore.
Andtherestoodtheminister,withhishandoverhisheart;andHesterPrynne,withtheembroideredletterglimmeringonherbosom;andlittlePearl,herselfasymbol,andtheconnectinglinkbetweenthosetwo.
Theystoodinthenoonofthatstrangeandsolemnsplendour,asifitwerethelightthatistorevealallsecrets,andthedaybreakthatshalluniteallwhobelongtooneanother.
TherewaswitchcraftinlittlePearl’seyes;andherface,assheglancedupwardattheminister,worethatnaughtysmilewhichmadeitsexpressionfrequentlysoelvish.
Nothingwasmorecommon,inthosedays,thantointerpretallmeteoricappearances,andothernaturalphenomenathatoccuredwithlessregularitythantheriseandsetofsunandmoon,assomanyrevelationsfromasupernaturalsource.
Wedoubtwhetheranymarkedevent,forgoodorevil,everbefellNewEngland,fromitssettlementdowntorevolutionarytimes,ofwhichtheinhabitantshadnotbeenpreviouslywarnedbysomespectacleofitsnature.
Oftener,however,itscredibilityrestedonthefaithofsomelonelyeye–witness,whobeheldthewonderthroughthecoloured,magnifying,anddistortedmediumofhisimagination,andshapeditmoredistinctlyinhisafter–thought.
Itwas,indeed,amajesticideathatthedestinyofnationsshouldberevealed,intheseawfulhieroglyphics,onthecopeofheaven.
Thebeliefwasafavouriteonewithourforefathers,asbetokeningthattheirinfantcommonwealthwasunderacelestialguardianshipofpeculiarintimacyandstrictness.
Butwhatshallwesay,whenanindividualdiscoversarevelationaddressedtohimselfalone,onthesamevastsheetofrecord.
Insuchacase,itcouldonlybethesymptomofahighlydisorderedmentalstate,whenaman,renderedmorbidlyself–contemplativebylong,intense,andsecretpain,hadextendedhisegotismoverthewholeexpanseofnature,untilthefirmamentitselfshouldappearnomorethanafittingpageforhissoul’shistoryandfate.
Weimputeit,therefore,solelytothediseaseinhisowneyeandheartthattheminister,lookingupwardtothezenith,beheldtheretheappearanceofanimmenseletter—theletterA—markedoutinlinesofdullredlight.
Notbutthemeteormayhaveshownitselfatthatpoint,burningduskilythroughaveilofcloud,butwithnosuchshapeashisguiltyimaginationgaveit,or,atleast,withsolittledefiniteness,thatanother’sguiltmighthaveseenanothersymbolinit.
Allthetimethathegazedupwardtothezenith,hewas,nevertheless,perfectlyawarethatlittlePearlwashintingherfingertowardsoldRogerChillingworth,whostoodatnogreatdistancefromthescaffold.
Tohisfeatureastoallotherobjects,themeteoriclightimpartedanewexpression;oritmightwellbethatthephysicianwasnotcarefulthen,asatallothertimes,tohidethemalevolencewithwhichhelookeduponhisvictim.
Certainly,ifthemeteorkindledupthesky,anddisclosedtheearth,withanawfulnessthatadmonishedHesterPrynneandtheclergymanofthedayofjudgment,thenmightRogerChillingworthhavepassedwiththemforthearch–fiend,standingtherewithasmileandscowl,toclaimhisown.
Sovividwastheexpression,orsointensetheminister’sperceptionofit,thatitseemedstilltoremainpaintedonthedarknessafterthemeteorhadvanished,withaneffectasifthestreetandallthingselsewereatonceannihilated.
“Whoisthatman,Hester?”gaspedMr.Dimmesdale,overcomewithterror.“Ishiverathim!Dostthouknowtheman?Ihatehim,Hester!”
“Itellthee,mysoulshiversathim!”mutteredtheministeragain.“Whoishe?Whoishe?Canstthoudonothingforme?Ihaveanamelesshorroroftheman!”
“Quickly,then,child!”saidtheminister,bendinghisearclosetoherlips.“Quickly!—Andaslowasthoucanstwhisper.”
Pearlmumbledsomethingintohisearthatsounded,indeed,likehumanlanguage,butwasonlysuchgibberishaschildrenmaybeheardamusingthemselveswithbythehourtogether.
Atallevents,ifitinvolvedanysecretinformationinregardtooldRogerChillingworth,itwasinatongueunknowntotheeruditeclergyman,anddidbutincreasethebewildermentofhismind.Theelvishchildthenlaughedaloud.
“Thouwastnotbold!—Thouwastnottrue!”answeredthechild.“Thouwouldstnotpromisetotakemyhand,andmother’shand,to–morrownoon–tide!”
“Worthysir,”answeredthephysician,whohadnowadvancedtothefootoftheplatform.“piousMasterDimmesdale!Canthisbeyou?Well,well,indeed!
IhadspentthebetterpartofthenightatthebedsideoftheworshipfulGovernorWinthrop,doingwhatmypoorskillmighttogivehimease.
Withachilldespondency,likeoneawakening,allnerveless,fromanuglydream,heyieldedhimselftothephysician,andwasledaway.
Thenextday,however,beingtheSabbath,hepreachedadiscoursewhichwasheldtobetherichestandmostpowerful,andthemostrepletewithheavenlyinfluences,thathadeverproceededfromhislips.
Souls,itissaid,moresoulsthanone,werebroughttothetruthbytheefficacyofthatsermon,andvowedwithinthemselvestocherishaholygratitudetowardsMr.Dimmesdalethroughoutthelonghereafter.
Butashecamedownthepulpitsteps,thegrey–beardedsextonmethim,holdingupablackglove,whichtheministerrecognisedashisown.
“Thankyou,mygoodfriend,”saidtheminister,gravely,butstartledatheart;forsoconfusedwashisremembrance,thathehadalmostbroughthimselftolookattheeventsofthepastnightasvisionary.
“And,sinceSatansawfittostealit,yourreverencemustneedshandlehimwithoutgloveshenceforward,”remarkedtheoldsexton,grimlysmiling.
Share this article to
FINISH