English
Slowlyastheministerwalked,hehadalmostgonebybeforeHesterPrynnecouldgathervoiceenoughtoattracthisobservation.Atlengthshesucceeded.
“ArthurDimmesdale!”shesaid,faintlyatfirst,thenlouder,buthoarsely—“ArthurDimmesdale!”
“Whospeaks?”answeredtheminister.
Gatheringhimselfquicklyup,hestoodmoreerect,likeamantakenbysurpriseinamoodtowhichhewasreluctanttohavewitnesses.
Throwinghiseyesanxiouslyinthedirectionofthevoice,heindistinctlybeheldaformunderthetrees,cladingarmentssosombre,andsolittlerelievedfromthegraytwilightintowhichthecloudedskyandtheheavyfoliagehaddarkenedthenoontide,thatheknewnotwhetheritwereawomanorashadow.
Itmaybethathispathwaythroughlifewashauntedthusbyaspectrethathadstolenoutfromamonghisthoughts.
Hemadeastepnigher,anddiscoveredthescarletletter.
“Hester!HesterPrynne!’,saidhe;“isitthou?Artthouinlife?”
“Evenso.”sheanswered.“Insuchlifeashasbeenminethesesevenyearspast!Andthou,ArthurDimmesdale,dostthouyetlive?”
Itwasnowonderthattheythusquestionedoneanother’sactualandbodilyexistence,andevendoubtedoftheirown.
Sostrangelydidtheymeetinthedimwoodthatitwaslikethefirstencounterintheworldbeyondthegraveoftwospiritswhohadbeenintimatelyconnectedintheirformerlife,butnowstoodcoldlyshudderinginmutualdread,asnotyetfamiliarwiththeirstate,norwontedtothecompanionshipofdisembodiedbeings.
Eachaghost,andawe–strickenattheotherghost.
Theywereawe–strickenlikewiseatthemselves,becausethecrisisflungbacktothemtheirconsciousness,andrevealedtoeachheartitshistoryandexperience,aslifeneverdoes,exceptatsuchbreathlessepochs.
Thesoulbehelditsfeaturesinthemirrorofthepassingmoment.
Itwaswithfear,andtremulously,and,asitwere,byaslow,reluctantnecessity,thatArthurDimmesdaleputforthhishand,chillasdeath,andtouchedthechillhandofHesterPrynne.
Thegrasp,coldasitwas,tookawaywhatwasdreariestintheinterview.
Theynowfeltthemselves,atleast,inhabitantsofthesamesphere.
Withoutawordmorespoken—neitherhenorsheassumingtheguidance,butwithanunexpressedconsent—theyglidedbackintotheshadowofthewoodswhenceHesterhademerged,andsatdownontheheapofmosswheresheandPearlhadbeforebeensitting.
Whentheyfoundvoicetospeak,itwasatfirstonlytoutterremarksandinquiriessuchasanytwoacquaintancesmighthavemade,aboutthegloomysky,thethreateningstorm,and,next,thehealthofeach.
Thustheywentonward,notboldly,butstepbystep,intothethemesthatwerebroodingdeepestintheirhearts.
Solongestrangedbyfateandcircumstances,theyneededsomethingslightandcasualtorunbeforeandthrowopenthedoorsofintercourse,sothattheirrealthoughtsmightbeledacrossthethreshold.
Afterawhile,theministerfixedhiseyesonHesterPrynne’s.
“Hester,”saidhe,“hastthoufoundpeace?”
Shesmileddrearily,lookingdownuponherbosom.
“Hastthou?”sheasked.
“None!—Nothingbutdespair!”heanswered.
“WhatelsecouldIlookfor,beingwhatIam,andleadingsuchalifeasmine?
WereIanatheist—amandevoidofconscience—awretchwithcoarseandbrutalinstincts—Imighthavefoundpeacelongerenow.Nay,Inevershouldhavelostit.
But,asmattersstandwithmysoul,whateverofgoodcapacitythereoriginallywasinme,allofGod’sgiftsthatwerethechoicesthavebecometheministersofspiritualtorment.Hester,Iammostmiserable!”
“Thepeoplereverencethee,”saidHester.“Andsurelythouworkestgoodamongthem!Doththisbringtheenocomfort?”
“Moremisery,Hester!—Onlythemoremisery!”
answeredtheclergymanwithabittersmile.
“AsconcernsthegoodwhichImayappeartodo,Ihavenofaithinit.Itmustneedsbeadelusion.
Whatcanaruinedsoullikemineeffecttowardstheredemptionofothersouls?
—Orapollutedsoultowardstheirpurification?
Andasforthepeople’sreverence,wouldthatitwereturnedtoscornandhatred!
Canstthoudeemit,Hester,aconsolationthatImuststandupinmypulpit,andmeetsomanyeyesturnedupwardtomyface,asifthelightofheavenwerebeamingfromit!
—Mustseemyflockhungryforthetruth,andlisteningtomywordsasifatongueofPentecostwerespeaking!
—Andthenlookinward,anddiscerntheblackrealityofwhattheyidolize?
Ihavelaughed,inbitternessandagonyofheart,atthecontrastbetweenwhatIseemandwhatIam!AndSatanlaughsatit!”
“Youwrongyourselfinthis,”saidHestergently.
“Youhavedeeplyandsorelyrepented.Yoursinisleftbehindyouinthedayslongpast.
Yourpresentlifeisnotlessholy,inverytruth,thanitseemsinpeople’seyes.
Istherenorealityinthepenitencethussealedandwitnessedbygoodworks?
Andwhereforeshoulditnotbringyoupeace?”
“No,Hester—no!”repliedtheclergyman.
“Thereisnosubstanceinit]Itiscoldanddead,andcandonothingforme!Ofpenance,Ihavehadenough!Ofpenitence,therehasbeennone!
Else,Ishouldlongagohavethrownoffthesegarmentsofmockholiness,andhaveshownmyselftomankindastheywillseemeatthejudgment–seat.
Happyareyou,Hester,thatwearthescarletletteropenlyuponyourbosom!Mineburnsinsecret!
Thoulittleknowestwhatareliefitis,afterthetormentofasevenyears’cheat,tolookintoaneyethatrecognizesmeforwhatIam!
HadIonefriend—orwereitmyworstenemy!
—Towhom,whensickenedwiththepraisesofallothermen,Icoulddailybetakemyself,andknownasthevilestofallsinners,methinksmysoulmightkeepitselfalivethereby.Eventhusmuchoftruthwouldsaveme!Butnow,itisallfalsehood!—Allemptiness!—Alldeath!”
HesterPrynnelookedintohisface,buthesitatedtospeak.
Yet,utteringhislong–restrainedemotionssovehementlyashedid,hiswordshereofferedhertheverypointofcircumstancesinwhichtointerposewhatshecametosay.Sheconqueredherfears,andspoke:
“Suchafriendasthouhastevennowwishedfor,”saidshe,“withwhomtoweepoverthysin,thouhastinme,thepartnerofit!”
Againshehesitated,butbroughtoutthewordswithaneffort“Thouhastlonghadsuchanenemy,anddwellestwithhim,underthesameroof!”
Theministerstartedtohisfeet,gaspingforbreath,andclutchingathisheart,asifhewouldhavetornitoutofhisbosom.
“Ha!Whatsayestthou?”criedhe.“Anenemy!Andundermineownroof!Whatmeanyou?”
HesterPrynnewasnowfullysensibleofthedeepinjuryforwhichshewasresponsibletothisunhappyman,inpermittinghimtolieforsomanyyears,or,indeed,forasinglemoment,atthemercyofonewhosepurposescouldnotbeotherthanmalevolent.
Theverycontiguityofhisenemy,beneathwhatevermaskthelattermightconcealhimself,wasenoughtodisturbthemagneticsphereofabeingsosensitiveasArthurDimmesdale.
TherehadbeenaperiodwhenHesterwaslessalivetothisconsideration;or,perhaps,inthemisanthropyofherowntrouble,shelefttheministertobearwhatshemightpicturetoherselfasamoretolerabledoom.
Butoflate,sincethenightofhisvigil,allhersympathiestowardshimhadbeenbothsoftenedandinvigorated.Shenowreadhisheartmoreaccurately.
ShedoubtednotthatthecontinualpresenceofRogerChillingworth—thesecretpoisonofhismalignity,infectingalltheairabouthim—andhisauthorizedinterference,asaphysician,withtheminister’sphysicalandspiritualinfirmities—thatthesebadopportunitieshadbeenturnedtoacruelpurpose.
Bymeansofthem,thesufferer’sconsciencehadbeenkeptinanirritatedstate,thetendencyofwhichwas,nottocurebywholesomepain,buttodisorganizeandcorrupthisspiritualbeing.
Itsresult,onearth,couldhardlyfailtobeinsanity,andhereafter,thateternalalienationfromtheGoodandTrue,ofwhichmadnessisperhapstheearthlytype.
Suchwastheruintowhichshehadbroughttheman,once—nay,whyshouldwenotspeakit?—Stillsopassionatelyloved!
Hesterfeltthatthesacrificeoftheclergyman’sgoodname,anddeathitself,asshehadalreadytoldRogerChillingworth,wouldhavebeeninfinitelypreferabletothealternativewhichshehadtakenuponherselftochoose.
Andnow,ratherthanhavehadthisgrievouswrongtoconfess,shewouldgladlyhavelaiddownontheforestleaves,anddiedthere,atArthurDimmesdale’sfeet.
“Oh,Arthur!”criedshe,“forgiveme!
Inallthingselse,Ihavestriventobetrue!
TruthwastheonevirtuewhichImighthaveheldfast,anddidholdfast,throughallextremity;savewhenthygood—thylife—thyfame—wereputinquestion!ThenIconsentedtoadeception.
Butalieisnevergood,eventhoughdeaththreatenontheotherside!DostthounotseewhatIwouldsay?Thatoldman!—Thephysician!—HewhomtheycallRogerChillingworth!—Hewasmyhusband!”
Theministerlookedatherforaninstant,withallthatviolenceofpassion,which—intermixedinmoreshapesthanonewithhishigher,purer,softerqualities—was,infact,theportionofhimwhichthedevilclaimed,andthroughwhichhesoughttowintherest.
NeverwasthereablackerorafiercerfrownthanHesternowencountered.
Forthebriefspacethatitlasted,itwasadarktransfiguration.
Buthischaracterhadbeensomuchenfeebledbysuffering,thatevenitslowerenergieswereincapableofmorethanatemporarystruggle.
Hesankdownontheground,andburiedhisfaceinhishands.
“Imighthaveknownit,”murmuredhe.“Ididknowit!
Wasnotthesecrettoldme,inthenaturalrecoilofmyheartatthefirstsightofhim,andasoftenasIhaveseenhimsince?WhydidInotunderstand?
Oh,HesterPrynne,thoulittle,littleknowestallthehorrorofthisthing!Andtheshame!—Theindelicacy!
—Thehorribleuglinessofthisexposureofasickandguiltyhearttotheveryeyethatwouldgloatoverit!
Woman,woman,thouartaccountableforthis!—Icannotforgivethee!”
“Thoushaltforgiveme!”criedHester,flingingherselfonthefallenleavesbesidehim.“LetGodpunish!Thoushaltforgive!”
Withsuddenanddesperatetendernessshethrewherarmsaroundhim,andpressedhisheadagainstherbosom,littlecaringthoughhischeekrestedonthescarletletter.
Hewouldhavereleasedhimself,butstroveinvaintodoso.
Hesterwouldnotsethimfree,lestheshouldlookhersternlyintheface.
Alltheworldhadfrownedonher—forsevenlongyearshaditfrowneduponthislonelywoman—andstillsheboreitall,noreveronceturnedawayherfirm,sadeyes.
Heaven,likewise,hadfrowneduponher,andshehadnotdied.
Butthefrownofthispale,weak,sinful,andsorrow–strickenmanwaswhatHestercouldnotbear,andlive!
“Wiltthouyetforgiveme?”sherepeated,overandoveragain.“Wiltthounotfrown?Wiltthouforgive?”
“Idoforgiveyou,Hester,”repliedtheministeratlength,withadeeputterance,outofanabyssofsadness,butnoanger.“Ifreelyforgiveyounow.MayGodforgiveusboth.
Wearenot,Hester,theworstsinnersintheworld.
Thereisoneworsethaneventhepollutedpriest!
Thatoldman’srevengehasbeenblackerthanmysin.
Hehasviolated,incoldblood,thesanctityofahumanheart.ThouandI,Hester,neverdidso!”
“Never,never!”whisperedshe.“Whatwedidhadaconsecrationofitsown.Wefeltitso!Wesaidsotoeachother.Hastthouforgottenit?”
“Hush,Hester!”saidArthurDimmesdale,risingfromtheground.“No;Ihavenotforgotten!”
Theysatdownagain,sidebyside,andhandclaspedinhand,onthemossytrunkofthefallentree.
Lifehadneverbroughtthemagloomierhour;itwasthepointwhithertheirpathwayhadsolongbeentending,anddarkeningever,asitstolealong—andyetitunclosedacharmthatmadethemlingeruponit,andclaimanother,andanother,and,afterall,anothermoment.
Theforestwasobscurearoundthem,andcreakedwithablastthatwaspassingthroughit.
Theboughsweretossingheavilyabovetheirheads;whileonesolemnoldtreegroaneddolefullytoanother,asiftellingthesadstoryofthepairthatsatbeneath,orconstrainedtoforbodeeviltocome.
Andyettheylingered.Howdrearylookedtheforest–trackthatledbackwardtothesettlement,whereHesterPrynnemusttakeupagaintheburdenofherignominyandtheministerthehollowmockeryofhisgoodname!Sotheylingeredaninstantlonger.
Nogoldenlighthadeverbeensopreciousasthegloomofthisdarkforest.
Hereseenonlybyhiseyes,thescarletletterneednotburnintothebosomofthefallenwoman!
Hereseenonlybyhereyes,ArthurDimmesdale,falsetoGodandman,mightbe,foronemomenttrue!
Hestartedatathoughtthatsuddenlyoccurredtohim.
“Hester!”criedhe,“hereisanewhorror!RogerChillingworthknowsyourpurposetorevealhistruecharacter.Willhecontinue,then,tokeepoursecret?Whatwillnowbethecourseofhisrevenge?”
“Thereisastrangesecrecyinhisnature,”repliedHester,thoughtfully;“andithasgrownuponhimbythehiddenpracticesofhisrevenge.
Ideemitnotlikelythathewillbetraythesecret.
Hewilldoubtlessseekothermeansofsatiatinghisdarkpassion.”
“AndI!—HowamItolivelonger,breathingthesameairwiththisdeadlyenemy?”
exclaimedArthurDimmesdale,shrinkingwithinhimself,andpressinghishandnervouslyagainsthisheart—agesturethathadgrowninvoluntarywithhim.“Thinkforme,Hester!Thouartstrong.Resolveforme!”
“Thoumustdwellnolongerwiththisman,”saidHester,slowlyandfirmly.“Thyheartmustbenolongerunderhisevileye!”
“Itwerefarworsethandeath!”repliedtheminister.“Buthowtoavoidit?Whatchoiceremainstome?
ShallIliedownagainonthesewitheredleaves,whereIcastmyselfwhenthoudidsttellmewhathewas?
MustIsinkdownthere,anddieatonce?”
“Alas!whataruinhasbefallenthee!”saidHester,withthetearsgushingintohereyes.“Wiltthoudieforveryweakness?Thereisnoothercause!”
“ThejudgmentofGodisonme,”answeredtheconscience–strickenpriest.“Itistoomightyformetostrugglewith!”
“Heavenwouldshowmercy,”rejoinedHester,“hadstthoubutthestrengthtotakeadvantageofit.”
“Bethoustrongforme!”answeredhe.“Advisemewhattodo.”
“Istheworld,then,sonarrow?”exclaimedHesterPrynne,fixingherdeepeyesontheminister’s,andinstinctivelyexercisingamagneticpoweroveraspiritsoshatteredandsubduedthatitcouldhardlyholditselferect.
“Doththeuniverseliewithinthecompassofyondertown,whichonlyalittletimeagowasbutaleaf–strewndesert,aslonelyasthisaroundus?Whitherleadsyonderforest–track?
Backwardtothesettlement,thousayest!Yes;but,onward,too!
Deeperitgoes,anddeeperintothewilderness,lessplainlytobeseenateverystep;untilsomefewmileshencetheyellowleaveswillshownovestigeofthewhiteman’stread.Therethouartfree!
Sobriefajourneywouldbringtheefromaworldwherethouhastbeenmostwretched,toonewherethoumayeststillbehappy!
IstherenotshadeenoughinallthisboundlessforesttohidethyheartfromthegazeofRogerChillingworth?”
“Yes,Hester;butonlyunderthefallenleaves!”repliedtheminister,withasadsmile.
“Thenthereisthebroadpathwayofthesea!”continuedHester.“Itbroughttheehither.
Ifthousochoose,itwillbeartheebackagain.
Inournativeland,whetherinsomeremoteruralvillage,orinvastLondon—or,surely,inGermany,inFrance,inpleasantItaly—thouwouldstbebeyondhispowerandknowledge!
Andwhathastthoutodowithalltheseironmen,andtheiropinions?
Theyhavekeptthybetterpartinbondagetoolongalready!”
“Itcannotbe!”answeredtheminister,listeningasifhewerecalledupontorealiseadream.“Iampowerlesstogo.
WretchedandsinfulasIam,IhavehadnootherthoughtthantodragonmyearthlyexistenceinthespherewhereProvidencehathplacedme.
Lostasmyownsoulis,IwouldstilldowhatImayforotherhumansouls!
Idarenotquitmypost,thoughanunfaithfulsentinel,whosesurerewardisdeathanddishonour,whenhisdrearywatchshallcometoanend!”
“Thouartcrushedunderthissevenyears’weightofmisery,”repliedHester,ferventlyresolvedtobuoyhimupwithherownenergy.
“Butthoushaltleaveitallbehindthee!
Itshallnotcumberthysteps,asthoutreadestalongtheforest–path:neithershaltthoufreighttheshipwithit,ifthouprefertocrossthesea.
Leavethiswreckandruinherewhereithathhappened.Meddlenomorewithit!Beginallanew!
Hastthouexhaustedpossibilityinthefailureofthisonetrial?Notso!
Thefutureisyetfulloftrialandsuccess.Thereishappinesstobeenjoyed!Thereisgoodtobedone!
Exchangethisfalselifeofthineforatrueone.
Be,ifthyspiritsummontheetosuchamission,theteacherandapostleoftheredmen.
Or,asismorethynature,beascholarandasageamongthewisestandthemostrenownedofthecultivatedworld.Preach!Write!Act!Doanything,savetoliedownanddie!
GiveupthisnameofArthurDimmesdale,andmakethyselfanother,andahighone,suchasthoucanstwearwithoutfearorshame.
Whyshouldstthoutarrysomuchasoneotherdayinthetormentsthathavesognawedintothylife?
thathavemadetheefeebletowillandtodo?
thatwillleavetheepowerlesseventorepent?Up,andaway!”
“Oh,Hester!”criedArthurDimmesdale,inwhoseeyesafitfullight,kindledbyherenthusiasm,flashedupanddiedaway,“thoutellestofrunningaracetoamanwhosekneesaretotteringbeneathhim!Imustdiehere!
Thereisnotthestrengthorcourageleftmetoventureintothewide,strange,difficultworldalone!”
Itwasthelastexpressionofthedespondencyofabrokenspirit.Helackedenergytograspthebetterfortunethatseemedwithinhisreach.
Herepeatedtheword—“Alone,Hester!”
“Thoushallnotgoalone!”answeredshe,inadeepwhisper.Then,allwasspoken!
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