The Scarlet Letter

"Wherefore dost thou desire it?" inquired Hester, shrinking, she

hardly knew why, from this secret bond. "Why not announce

thyself openly, and cast me off at once?"

"It may be," he replied, "because I will not encounter the

dishonour that besmirches the husband of a faithless woman. It

may be for other reasons. Enough, it is my purpose to live and

die unknown. Let, therefore, thy husband be to the world as one

already dead, and of whom no tidings shall ever come. Recognise

me not, by word, by sign, by look! Breathe not the secret, above

all, to the man thou wottest of. Shouldst thou fail me in this,

beware! His fame, his position, his life will be in my hands.

Beware!"

"I will keep thy secret, as I have his," said Hester.

"Swear it!" rejoined he.

And she took the oath.

"And now, Mistress Prynne," said old Roger Chillingworth, as he

was hereafter to be named, "I leave thee alone: alone with thy

infant and the scarlet letter! How is it, Hester? Doth thy

sentence bind thee to wear the token in thy sleep? Art thou not

afraid of nightmares and hideous dreams?"

"Why dost thou smile so at me?" inquired Hester, troubled at the

expression of his eyes. "Art thou like the Black Man that haunts

the forest round about us? Hast thou enticed me into a bond that

will prove the ruin of my soul?"

"Not thy soul," he answered, with another smile. "No, not

thine!"