Slowly as the minister walked, he had almost gone by beforeHester Prynne could gather voice enough to attract hisobservation. At length she succeeded.

"Arthur Dimmesdale!" she said, faintly at first, then louder,but hoarsely--"Arthur Dimmesdale!"

"Who speaks?" answered the minister. Gathering himself quicklyup, he stood more erect, like a man taken by surprise in a moodto which he was reluctant to have witnesses. Throwing his eyesanxiously in the direction of the voice, he indistinctly behelda form under the trees, clad in garments so sombre, and solittle relieved from the gray twilight into which the cloudedsky and the heavy foliage had darkened the noontide, that heknew not whether it were a woman or a shadow. It may be that hispathway through life was haunted thus by a spectre that hadstolen out from among his thoughts.

He made a step nigher, and discovered the scarlet letter.

"Hester! Hester Prynne!", said he; "is it thou? Art thou inlife?"

"Even so." she answered. "In such life as has been mine theseseven years past! And thou, Arthur Dimmesdale, dost thou yetlive?"

It was no wonder that they thus questioned one another's actualand bodily existence, and even doubted of their own. Sostrangely did they meet in the dim wood that it was like thefirst encounter in the world beyond the grave of two spirits whohad been intimately connected in their former life, but nowstood coldly shuddering in mutual dread, as not yet familiarwith their state, nor wonted to the companionship of disembodiedbeings. Each a ghost, and awe-stricken at the other ghost. Theywere awe-stricken likewise at themselves, because the crisisflung back to them their consciousness, and revealed to eachheart its history and experience, as life never does, except atsuch breathless epochs. The soul beheld its features in themirror of the passing moment. It was with fear, and tremulously,and, as it were, by a slow, reluctant necessity, that ArthurDimmesdale put forth his hand, chill as death, and touched thechill hand of Hester Prynne. The grasp, cold as it was, tookaway what was dreariest in the interview. They now feltthemselves, at least, inhabitants of the same sphere.

Without a word more spoken--neither he nor she assuming theguidance, but with an unexpressed consent--they glided back intothe shadow of the woods whence Hester had emerged, and sat downon the heap of moss where she and Pearl had before been sitting.When they found voice to speak, it was at first only to utterremarks and inquiries such as any two acquaintances might havemade, about the gloomy sky, the threatening storm, and, next,the health of each. Thus they went onward, not boldly, but stepby step, into the themes that were brooding deepest in theirhearts. So long estranged by fate and circumstances, they neededsomething slight and casual to run before and throw open thedoors of intercourse, so that their real thoughts might be ledacross the threshold.

After awhile, the minister fixed his eyes on Hester Prynne's.

"Hester," said he, "hast thou found peace?"

She smiled drearily, looking down upon her bosom.

"Hast thou?" she asked.

"None--nothing but despair!" he answered. "What else could Ilook for, being what I am, and leading such a life as mine? WereI an atheist--a man devoid of conscience--a wretch with coarseand brutal instincts--I might have found peace long ere now.Nay, I never should have lost it. But, as matters stand with mysoul, whatever of good capacity there originally was in me, allof God's gifts that were the choicest have become the ministersof spiritual torment. Hester, I am most miserable!"

"The people reverence thee," said Hester. "And surely thouworkest good among them! Doth this bring thee no comfort?"

"More misery, Hester!--Only the more misery!" answered theclergyman with a bitter smile. "As concerns the good which I mayappear to do, I have no faith in it. It must needs be adelusion. What can a ruined soul like mine effect towards theredemption of other souls?--or a polluted soul towards theirpurification? And as for the people's reverence, would that itwere turned to scorn and hatred! Canst thou deem it, Hester, aconsolation that I must stand up in my pulpit, and meet so manyeyes turned upward to my face, as if the light of heaven werebeaming from it!--must see my flock hungry for the truth, andlistening to my words as if a tongue of Pentecost werespeaking!--and then look inward, and discern the black realityof what they idolise? I have laughed, in bitterness and agony ofheart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am! AndSatan laughs at it!"

"You wrong yourself in this," said Hester gently. "You havedeeply and sorely repented. Your sin is left behind you in thedays long past. Your present life is not less holy, in verytruth, than it seems in people's eyes. Is there no reality inthe penitence thus sealed and witnessed by good works? Andwherefore should it not bring you peace?"

"No, Hester--no!" replied the clergyman. "There is no substancein it! It is cold and dead, and can do nothing for me! Ofpenance, I have had enough! Of penitence, there has been none!Else, I should long ago have thrown off these garments of mockholiness, and have shown myself to mankind as they will see meat the judgment-seat. Happy are you, Hester, that wear thescarlet letter openly upon your bosom! Mine burns in secret!Thou little knowest what a relief it is, after the torment of aseven years' cheat, to look into an eye that recognises me forwhat I am! Had I one friend--or were it my worst enemy!--towhom, when sickened with the praises of all other men, I coulddaily betake myself, and be known as the vilest of all sinners,methinks my soul might keep itself alive thereby. Even thus muchof truth would save me! But now, it is all falsehood!--allemptiness!--all death!"

Hester Prynne looked into his face, but hesitated to speak.Yet, uttering his long-restrained emotions so vehemently as hedid, his words here offered her the very point of circumstancesin which to interpose what she came to say. She conquered herfears, and spoke:

"Such a friend as thou hast even now wished for," said she,"with whom to weep over thy sin, thou hast in me, the partner ofit!" Again she hesitated, but brought out the words with aneffort.--"Thou hast long had such an enemy, and dwellest withhim, under the same roof!"

The minister started to his feet, gasping for breath, andclutching at his heart, as if he would have torn it out of hisbosom.

"Ha! What sayest thou?" cried he. "An enemy! And under mineown roof! What mean you?"

Hester Prynne was now fully sensible of the deep injury forwhich she was responsible to this unhappy man, in permitting himto lie for so many years, or, indeed, for a single moment, atthe mercy of one whose purposes could not be other thanmalevolent. The very contiguity of his enemy, beneath whatevermask the latter might conceal himself, was enough to disturb themagnetic sphere of a being so sensitive as Arthur Dimmesdale.There had been a period when Hester was less alive to thisconsideration; or, perhaps, in the misanthropy of her owntrouble, she left the minister to bear what she might picture toherself as a more tolerable doom. But of late, since the nightof his vigil, all her sympathies towards him had been bothsoftened and invigorated. She now read his heart moreaccurately. She doubted not that the continual presence of RogerChillingworth--the secret poison of his malignity, infecting allthe air about him--and his authorised interference, as aphysician, with the minister's physical and spiritualinfirmities--that these bad opportunities had been turned to acruel purpose. By means of them, the sufferer's conscience hadbeen kept in an irritated state, the tendency of which was, notto cure by wholesome pain, but to disorganize and corrupt hisspiritual being. Its result, on earth, could hardly fail to beinsanity, and hereafter, that eternal alienation from the Goodand True, of which madness is perhaps the earthly type.

Such was the ruin to which she had brought the man, once--nay,why should we not speak it?--still so passionately loved! Hesterfelt that the sacrifice of the clergyman's good name, and deathitself, as she had already told Roger Chillingworth, would havebeen infinitely preferable to the alternative which she hadtaken upon herself to choose. And now, rather than have had thisgrievous wrong to confess, she would gladly have laid down onthe forest leaves, and died there, at Arthur Dimmesdale's feet.

"Oh, Arthur!" cried she, "forgive me! In all things else, Ihave striven to be true! Truth was the one virtue which I mighthave held fast, and did hold fast, through all extremity; savewhen thy good--thy life--thy fame--were put in question! Then Iconsented to a deception. But a lie is never good, even thoughdeath threaten on the other side! Dost thou not see what I wouldsay? That old man!--the physician!--he whom they call RogerChillingworth!--he was my husband!"

The minister looked at her for an instant, with all thatviolence of passion, which--intermixed in more shapes than onewith his higher, purer, softer qualities--was, in fact, theportion of him which the devil claimed, and through which hesought to win the rest. Never was there a blacker or a fiercerfrown than Hester now encountered. For the brief space that itlasted, it was a dark transfiguration. But his character hadbeen so much enfeebled by suffering, that even its lowerenergies were incapable of more than a temporary struggle. Hesank down on the ground, and buried his face in his hands.

"I might have known it," murmured he--"I did know it! Was notthe secret told me, in the natural recoil of my heart at thefirst sight of him, and as often as I have seen him since? Whydid I not understand? Oh, Hester Prynne, thou little, littleknowest all the horror of this thing! And the shame!--theindelicacy!--the horrible ugliness of this exposure of a sickand guilty heart to the very eye that would gloat over it!Woman, woman, thou art accountable for this!--I cannot forgivethee!"

"Thou shalt forgive me!" cried Hester, flinging herself on thefallen leaves beside him. "Let God punish! Thou shalt forgive!"

With sudden and desperate tenderness she threw her arms aroundhim, and pressed his head against her bosom, little caringthough his cheek rested on the scarlet letter. He would havereleased himself, but strove in vain to do so. Hester would notset him free, lest he should look her sternly in the face. Allthe world had frowned on her--for seven long years had itfrowned upon this lonely woman--and still she bore it all, norever once turned away her firm, sad eyes. Heaven, likewise, hadfrowned upon her, and she had not died. But the frown of thispale, weak, sinful, and sorrow-stricken man was what Hestercould 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, witha deep utterance, out of an abyss of sadness, but no anger. "Ifreely forgive you now. May God forgive us both. We are not,Hester, the worst sinners in the world. There is one worse thaneven the polluted priest! That old man's revenge has beenblacker than my sin. He has violated, in cold blood, thesanctity of a human heart. Thou and I, Hester, never did so!"

"Never, never!" whispered she. "What we did had a consecrationof its own. We felt it so! We said so to each other. Hast thouforgotten it?"

"Hush, Hester!" said Arthur Dimmesdale, rising from the ground."No; I have not forgotten!"

They sat down again, side by side, and hand clasped in hand, onthe mossy trunk of the fallen tree. Life had never brought thema gloomier hour; it was the point whither their pathway had solong been tending, and darkening ever, as it stole along--andyet it unclosed a charm that made them linger upon it, and claimanother, and another, and, after all, another moment. The forestwas obscure around them, and creaked with a blast that waspassing through it. The boughs were tossing heavily above theirheads; while one solemn old tree groaned dolefully to another,as if telling the sad story of the pair that sat beneath, orconstrained to forbode evil to come.

And yet they lingered. How dreary looked the forest-track thatled backward to the settlement, where Hester Prynne must take upagain the burden of her ignominy and the minister the hollowmockery of his good name! So they lingered an instant longer. Nogolden light had ever been so precious as the gloom of this darkforest. Here seen only by his eyes, the scarlet letter need notburn into the bosom of the fallen woman! Here seen only by hereyes, Arthur Dimmesdale, false to God and man, might be, for onemoment true!

He started at a thought that suddenly occurred to him.

"Hester!" cried he, "here is a new horror! Roger Chillingworthknows your purpose to reveal his true character. Will hecontinue, then, to keep our secret? What will now be the courseof his revenge?"

"There is a strange secrecy in his nature," replied Hester,thoughtfully; "and it has grown upon him by the hidden practicesof his revenge. I deem it not likely that he will betray thesecret. He will doubtless seek other means of satiating his darkpassion."

"And I!--how am I to live longer, breathing the same air withthis deadly enemy?" exclaimed Arthur Dimmesdale, shrinkingwithin himself, and pressing his hand nervously against hisheart--a gesture that had grown involuntary with him. "Think forme, Hester! Thou art strong. Resolve for me!"

"Thou must dwell no longer with this man," said Hester, slowlyand firmly. "Thy heart must be no longer under his evil eye!"

"It were far worse than death!" replied the minister. "But howto avoid it? What choice remains to me? Shall I lie down againon these withered leaves, where I cast myself when thou didsttell me what he was? Must I sink down there, and die at once?"

"Alas! what a ruin has befallen thee!" said Hester, with thetears gushing into her eyes. "Wilt thou die for very weakness?There is no other cause!"

"The judgment of God is on me," answered the conscience-strickenpriest. "It is too mighty for me to struggle with!"

"Heaven would show mercy," rejoined Hester, "hadst thou but thestrength to take advantage of it."

"Be thou strong for me!" answered he. "Advise me what to do."

"Is the world, then, so narrow?" exclaimed Hester Prynne, fixingher deep eyes on the minister's, and instinctively exercising amagnetic power over a spirit so shattered and subdued that itcould hardly hold itself erect. "Doth the universe lie withinthe compass of yonder town, which only a little time ago was buta leaf-strewn desert, as lonely as this around us? Whither leadsyonder forest-track? Backward to the settlement, thou sayest!Yes; but, onward, too! Deeper it goes, and deeper into thewilderness, less plainly to be seen at every step; until somefew miles hence the yellow leaves will show no vestige of thewhite man's tread. There thou art free! So brief a journey wouldbring thee from a world where thou hast been most wretched, toone where thou mayest still be happy! Is there not shade enoughin all this boundless forest to hide thy heart from the gaze ofRoger Chillingworth?"

"Yes, Hester; but only under the fallen leaves!" replied theminister, with a sad smile.

"Then there is the broad pathway of the sea!" continued Hester."It brought thee hither. If thou so choose, it will bear theeback again. In our native land, whether in some remote ruralvillage, or in vast London--or, surely, in Germany, in France,in pleasant Italy--thou wouldst be beyond his power andknowledge! And what hast thou to do with all these iron men, andtheir opinions? They have kept thy better part in bondage toolong already!"

"It cannot be!" answered the minister, listening as if he werecalled upon to realise a dream. "I am powerless to go. Wretchedand sinful as I am, I have had no other thought than to drag onmy earthly existence in the sphere where Providence hath placedme. Lost as my own soul is, I would still do what I may forother human souls! I dare not quit my post, though an unfaithfulsentinel, whose sure reward is death and dishonour, when hisdreary watch shall come to an end!"

"Thou art crushed under this seven years' weight of misery,"replied Hester, fervently resolved to buoy him up with her ownenergy. "But thou shalt leave it all behind thee! It shall notcumber thy steps, as thou treadest along the forest-path:neither shalt thou freight the ship with it, if thou prefer tocross the sea. Leave this wreck and ruin here where it hathhappened. Meddle no more with it! Begin all anew! Hast thouexhausted possibility in the failure of this one trial? Not so!The future is yet full of trial and success. There is happinessto be enjoyed! There is good to be done! Exchange this falselife of thine for a true one. Be, if thy spirit summon thee tosuch a mission, the teacher and apostle of the red men. Or, asis more thy nature, be a scholar and a sage among the wisest andthe most renowned of the cultivated world. Preach! Write! Act!Do anything, save to lie down and die! Give up this name ofArthur Dimmesdale, and make thyself another, and a high one,such as thou canst wear without fear or shame. Why shouldst thoutarry so much as one other day in the torments that have sognawed into thy life? that have made thee feeble to will and todo? that will leave thee powerless even to repent? Up, andaway!"

"Oh, Hester!" cried Arthur Dimmesdale, in whose eyes a fitfullight, kindled by her enthusiasm, flashed up and died away,"thou tellest of running a race to a man whose knees aretottering beneath him! I must die here! There is not thestrength or courage left me to venture into the wide, strange,difficult world alone!"

It was the last expression of the despondency of a brokenspirit. He lacked energy to grasp the better fortune that seemedwithin his reach.

He repeated the word--"Alone, Hester!"

"Thou shall not go alone!" answered she, in a deep whisper.Then, all was spoken!