The Scarlet Letter

The minister looked at her for an instant, with all that

violence of passion, which--intermixed in more shapes than one

with his higher, purer, softer qualities--was, in fact, the

portion of him which the devil claimed, and through which he

sought to win the rest. Never was there a blacker or a fiercer

frown than Hester now encountered. For the brief space that it

lasted, it was a dark transfiguration. But his character had

been so much enfeebled by suffering, that even its lower

energies were incapable of more than a temporary struggle. He

sank down on the ground, and buried his face in his hands.

"I might have known it," murmured he--"I did know it! Was not

the secret told me, in the natural recoil of my heart at the

first sight of him, and as often as I have seen him since? Why

did I not understand? Oh, Hester Prynne, thou little, little

knowest all the horror of this thing! And the shame!--the

indelicacy!--the horrible ugliness of this exposure of a sick

and guilty heart to the very eye that would gloat over it!

Woman, woman, thou art accountable for this!--I cannot forgive

thee!"

"Thou shalt forgive me!" cried Hester, flinging herself on the

fallen leaves beside him. "Let God punish! Thou shalt forgive!"

With sudden and desperate tenderness she threw her arms around

him, and pressed his head against her bosom, little caring

though his cheek rested on the scarlet letter. He would have

released himself, but strove in vain to do so. Hester would not

set him free, lest he should look her sternly in the face. All

the world had frowned on her--for seven long years had it

frowned upon this lonely woman--and still she bore it all, nor

ever once turned away her firm, sad eyes. Heaven, likewise, had

frowned upon her, and she had not died. But the frown of this

pale, weak, sinful, and sorrow-stricken man was what Hester

could not bear, and live!

"Wilt thou yet forgive me?" she repeated, over and over again.

"Wilt thou not frown? Wilt thou forgive?"

"I do forgive you, Hester," replied the minister at length, with

a deep utterance, out of an abyss of sadness, but no anger. "I

freely forgive you now. May God forgive us both. We are not,

Hester, the worst sinners in the world. There is one worse than

even the polluted priest! That old man's revenge has been

blacker than my sin. He has violated, in cold blood, the

sanctity of a human heart. Thou and I, Hester, never did so!"

"Never, never!" whispered she. "What we did had a consecration

of its own. We felt it so! We said so to each other. Hast thou

forgotten it?"

"Hush, Hester!" said Arthur Dimmesdale, rising from the ground.

"No; I have not forgotten!"