The Scarlet Letter

The young minister, on ceasing to speak had withdrawn a few

steps from the group, and stood with his face partially

concealed in the heavy folds of the window-curtain; while the

shadow of his figure, which the sunlight cast upon the floor,

was tremulous with the vehemence of his appeal. Pearl, that wild

and flighty little elf stole softly towards him, and taking his

hand in the grasp of both her own, laid her cheek against it; a

caress so tender, and withal so unobtrusive, that her mother,

who was looking on, asked herself--"Is that my Pearl?" Yet she

knew that there was love in the child's heart, although it

mostly revealed itself in passion, and hardly twice in her

lifetime had been softened by such gentleness as now. The

minister--for, save the long-sought regards of woman, nothing is

sweeter than these marks of childish preference, accorded

spontaneously by a spiritual instinct, and therefore seeming to

imply in us something truly worthy to be loved--the minister

looked round, laid his hand on the child's head, hesitated an

instant, and then kissed her brow. Little Pearl's unwonted mood

of sentiment lasted no longer; she laughed, and went capering

down the hall so airily, that old Mr. Wilson raised a question

whether even her tiptoes touched the floor.

"The little baggage hath witchcraft in her, I profess," said he

to Mr. Dimmesdale. "She needs no old woman's broomstick to fly

withal!"

"A strange child!" remarked old Roger Chillingworth. "It is

easy to see the mother's part in her. Would it be beyond a

philosopher's research, think ye, gentlemen, to analyse that

child's nature, and, from it make a mould, to give a shrewd

guess at the father?"

"Nay; it would be sinful, in such a question, to follow the clue

of profane philosophy," said Mr. Wilson. "Better to fast and

pray upon it; and still better, it may be, to leave the mystery

as we find it, unless Providence reveal it of its own accord.

Thereby, every good Christian man hath a title to show a

father's kindness towards the poor, deserted babe."

The affair being so satisfactorily concluded, Hester Prynne,

with Pearl, departed from the house. As they descended the

steps, it is averred that the lattice of a chamber-window was

thrown open, and forth into the sunny day was thrust the face of

Mistress Hibbins, Governor Bellingham's bitter-tempered sister,

and the same who, a few years later, was executed as a witch.

"Hist, hist!" said she, while her ill-omened physiognomy seemed

to cast a shadow over the cheerful newness of the house. "Wilt

thou go with us to-night? There will be a merry company in the

forest; and I well-nigh promised the Black Man that comely

Hester Prynne should make one."

"Make my excuse to him, so please you!" answered Hester, with a

triumphant smile. "I must tarry at home, and keep watch over my

little Pearl. Had they taken her from me, I would willingly have

gone with thee into the forest, and signed my name in the Black

Man's book too, and that with mine own blood!"