Before Hester Prynne could call together her thoughts, andconsider what was practicable to be done in this new andstartling aspect of affairs, the sound of military music washeard approaching along a contiguous street. It denoted theadvance of the procession of magistrates and citizens on its waytowards the meeting-house: where, in compliance with a customthus early established, and ever since observed, the ReverendMr. Dimmesdale was to deliver an Election Sermon.

Soon the head of the procession showed itself, with a slow andstately march, turning a corner, and making its way across themarket-place. First came the music. It comprised a variety ofinstruments, perhaps imperfectly adapted to one another, andplayed with no great skill; but yet attaining the great objectfor which the harmony of drum and clarion addresses itself tothe multitude--that of imparting a higher and more heroic air tothe scene of life that passes before the eye. Little Pearl atfirst clapped her hands, but then lost for an instant therestless agitation that had kept her in a continualeffervescence throughout the morning; she gazed silently, andseemed to be borne upward like a floating sea-bird on the longheaves and swells of sound. But she was brought back to herformer mood by the shimmer of the sunshine on the weapons andbright armour of the military company, which followed after themusic, and formed the honorary escort of the procession. Thisbody of soldiery--which still sustains a corporate existence,and marches down from past ages with an ancient and honourablefame--was composed of no mercenary materials. Its ranks werefilled with gentlemen who felt the stirrings of martial impulse,and sought to establish a kind of College of Arms, where, as inan association of Knights Templars, they might learn thescience, and, so far as peaceful exercise would teach them, thepractices of war. The high estimation then placed upon themilitary character might be seen in the lofty port of eachindividual member of the company. Some of them, indeed, by theirservices in the Low Countries and on other fields of Europeanwarfare, had fairly won their title to assume the name and pompof soldiership. The entire array, moreover, clad in burnishedsteel, and with plumage nodding over their bright morions, had abrilliancy of effect which no modern display can aspire toequal.

And yet the men of civil eminence, who came immediately behindthe military escort, were better worth a thoughtful observer'seye. Even in outward demeanour they showed a stamp of majestythat made the warrior's haughty stride look vulgar, if notabsurd. It was an age when what we call talent had far lessconsideration than now, but the massive materials which producestability and dignity of character a great deal more. The peoplepossessed by hereditary right the quality of reverence, which,in their descendants, if it survive at all, exists in smallerproportion, and with a vastly diminished force in the selectionand estimate of public men. The change may be for good or ill,and is partly, perhaps, for both. In that old day the Englishsettler on these rude shores--having left king, nobles, and alldegrees of awful rank behind, while still the faculty andnecessity of reverence was strong in him--bestowed it on thewhite hair and venerable brow of age--on long-triedintegrity--on solid wisdom and sad-coloured experience--onendowments of that grave and weighty order which gave the ideaof permanence, and comes under the general definition ofrespectability. These primitive statesmen,therefore--Bradstreet, Endicott, Dudley, Bellingham, and theircompeers--who were elevated to power by the early choice of thepeople, seem to have been not often brilliant, but distinguishedby a ponderous sobriety, rather than activity of intellect. Theyhad fortitude and self-reliance, and in time of difficulty orperil stood up for the welfare of the state like a line ofcliffs against a tempestuous tide. The traits of character hereindicated were well represented in the square cast ofcountenance and large physical development of the new colonialmagistrates. So far as a demeanour of natural authority wasconcerned, the mother country need not have been ashamed to seethese foremost men of an actual democracy adopted into the Houseof Peers, or make the Privy Council of the Sovereign.

Next in order to the magistrates came the young and eminentlydistinguished divine, from whose lips the religious discourse ofthe anniversary was expected. His was the profession at that erain which intellectual ability displayed itself far more than inpolitical life; for--leaving a higher motive out of the questionit offered inducements powerful enough in the almost worshippingrespect of the community, to win the most aspiring ambition intoits service. Even political power--as in the case of IncreaseMather--was within the grasp of a successful priest.

It was the observation of those who beheld him now, that never,since Mr. Dimmesdale first set his foot on the New Englandshore, had he exhibited such energy as was seen in the gait andair with which he kept his pace in the procession. There was nofeebleness of step as at other times; his frame was not bent,nor did his hand rest ominously upon his heart. Yet, if theclergyman were rightly viewed, his strength seemed not of thebody. It might be spiritual and imparted to him by angelicalministrations. It might be the exhilaration of that potentcordial which is distilled only in the furnace-glow of earnestand long-continued thought. Or perchance his sensitivetemperament was invigorated by the loud and piercing music thatswelled heaven-ward, and uplifted him on its ascending wave.Nevertheless, so abstracted was his look, it might be questionedwhether Mr. Dimmesdale even heard the music. There was his body,moving onward, and with an unaccustomed force. But where was hismind? Far and deep in its own region, busying itself, withpreternatural activity, to marshal a procession of statelythoughts that were soon to issue thence; and so he saw nothing,heard nothing, knew nothing of what was around him; but thespiritual element took up the feeble frame and carried it along,unconscious of the burden, and converting it to spirit likeitself. Men of uncommon intellect, who have grown morbid,possess this occasional power of mighty effort, into which theythrow the life of many days and then are lifeless for as manymore.

Hester Prynne, gazing steadfastly at the clergyman, felt adreary influence come over her, but wherefore or whence she knewnot, unless that he seemed so remote from her own sphere, andutterly beyond her reach. One glance of recognition she hadimagined must needs pass between them. She thought of the dimforest, with its little dell of solitude, and love, and anguish,and the mossy tree-trunk, where, sitting hand-in-hand, they hadmingled their sad and passionate talk with the melancholy murmurof the brook. How deeply had they known each other then! And wasthis the man? She hardly knew him now! He, moving proudly past,enveloped as it were, in the rich music, with the procession ofmajestic and venerable fathers; he, so unattainable in hisworldly position, and still more so in that far vista of hisunsympathizing thoughts, through which she now beheld him! Herspirit sank with the idea that all must have been a delusion,and that, vividly as she had dreamed it, there could be no realbond betwixt the clergyman and herself. And thus much of womanwas there in Hester, that she could scarcely forgive him--leastof all now, when the heavy footstep of their approaching Fatemight be heard, nearer, nearer, nearer!--for being able socompletely to withdraw himself from their mutual world--whileshe groped darkly, and stretched forth her cold hands, and foundhim not.

Pearl either saw and responded to her mother's feelings, orherself felt the remoteness and intangibility that had fallenaround the minister. While the procession passed, the child wasuneasy, fluttering up and down, like a bird on the point oftaking flight. When the whole had gone by, she looked up intoHester's face--

"Mother," said she, "was that the same minister that kissed meby the brook?"

"Hold thy peace, dear little Pearl!" whispered her mother. "Wemust not always talk in the marketplace of what happens to us inthe forest."

"I could not be sure that it was he--so strange he looked,"continued the child. "Else I would have run to him, and bid himkiss me now, before all the people, even as he did yonder amongthe dark old trees. What would the minister have said, mother?Would he have clapped his hand over his heart, and scowled onme, and bid me begone?"

"What should he say, Pearl," answered Hester, "save that it wasno time to kiss, and that kisses are not to be given in themarket-place? Well for thee, foolish child, that thou didst notspeak to him!"

Another shade of the same sentiment, in reference to Mr.Dimmesdale, was expressed by a person whoseeccentricities--insanity, as we should term it--led her to dowhat few of the townspeople would have ventured on--to begin aconversation with the wearer of the scarlet letter in public. Itwas Mistress Hibbins, who, arrayed in great magnificence, with atriple ruff, a broidered stomacher, a gown of rich velvet, and agold-headed cane, had come forth to see the procession. As thisancient lady had the renown (which subsequently cost her no lessa price than her life) of being a principal actor in all theworks of necromancy that were continually going forward, thecrowd gave way before her, and seemed to fear the touch of hergarment, as if it carried the plague among its gorgeous folds.Seen in conjunction with Hester Prynne--kindly as so many nowfelt towards the latter--the dread inspired by Mistress Hibbinshad doubled, and caused a general movement from that part of themarket-place in which the two women stood.

"Now, what mortal imagination could conceive it?" whispered theold lady confidentially to Hester. "Yonder divine man! Thatsaint on earth, as the people uphold him to be, and as--I mustneeds say--he really looks! Who, now, that saw him pass in theprocession, would think how little while it is since he wentforth out of his study--chewing a Hebrew text of Scripture inhis mouth, I warrant--to take an airing in the forest! Aha! weknow what that means, Hester Prynne! But truly, forsooth, I findit hard to believe him the same man. Many a church member saw I,walking behind the music, that has danced in the same measurewith me, when Somebody was fiddler, and, it might be, an Indianpowwow or a Lapland wizard changing hands with us! That is but atrifle, when a woman knows the world. But this minister. Couldstthou surely tell, Hester, whether he was the same man thatencountered thee on the forest path?"

"Madam, I know not of what you speak," answered Hester Prynne,feeling Mistress Hibbins to be of infirm mind; yet strangelystartled and awe-stricken by the confidence with which sheaffirmed a personal connexion between so many persons (herselfamong them) and the Evil One. "It is not for me to talk lightlyof a learned and pious minister of the Word, like the ReverendMr. Dimmesdale."

"Fie, woman--fie!" cried the old lady, shaking her finger atHester. "Dost thou think I have been to the forest so manytimes, and have yet no skill to judge who else has been there?Yea, though no leaf of the wild garlands which they wore whilethey danced be left in their hair! I know thee, Hester, for Ibehold the token. We may all see it in the sunshine! and itglows like a red flame in the dark. Thou wearest it openly, sothere need be no question about that. But this minister! Let metell thee in thine ear! When the Black Man sees one of his ownservants, signed and sealed, so shy of owning to the bond as isthe Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, he hath a way of ordering mattersso that the mark shall be disclosed, in open daylight, to theeyes of all the world! What is that the minister seeks to hide,with his hand always over his heart? Ha, Hester Prynne?"

"What is it, good Mistress Hibbins?" eagerly asked little Pearl."Hast thou seen it?"

"No matter, darling!" responded Mistress Hibbins, making Pearl aprofound reverence. "Thou thyself wilt see it, one time oranother. They say, child, thou art of the lineage of the Princeof Air! Wilt thou ride with me some fine night to see thyfather? Then thou shalt know wherefore the minister keeps hishand over his heart!"

Laughing so shrilly that all the market-place could hear her,the weird old gentlewoman took her departure.

By this time the preliminary prayer had been offered in themeeting-house, and the accents of the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdalewere heard commencing his discourse. An irresistible feelingkept Hester near the spot. As the sacred edifice was too muchthronged to admit another auditor, she took up her positionclose beside the scaffold of the pillory. It was in sufficientproximity to bring the whole sermon to her ears, in the shape ofan indistinct but varied murmur and flow of the minister's verypeculiar voice.

This vocal organ was in itself a rich endowment, insomuch that alistener, comprehending nothing of the language in which thepreacher spoke, might still have been swayed to and fro by themere tone and cadence. Like all other music, it breathed passionand pathos, and emotions high or tender, in a tongue native tothe human heart, wherever educated. Muffled as the sound was byits passage through the church walls, Hester Prynne listenedwith such intenseness, and sympathized so intimately, that thesermon had throughout a meaning for her, entirely apart from itsindistinguishable words. These, perhaps, if more distinctlyheard, might have been only a grosser medium, and have cloggedthe spiritual sense. Now she caught the low undertone, as of thewind sinking down to repose itself; then ascended with it, as itrose through progressive gradations of sweetness and power,until its volume seemed to envelop her with an atmosphere of aweand solemn grandeur. And yet, majestic as the voice sometimesbecame, there was for ever in it an essential character ofplaintiveness. A loud or low expression of anguish--the whisper,or the shriek, as it might be conceived, of suffering humanity,that touched a sensibility in every bosom! At times this deepstrain of pathos was all that could be heard, and scarcely heardsighing amid a desolate silence. But even when the minister'svoice grew high and commanding--when it gushed irrepressiblyupward--when it assumed its utmost breadth and power, sooverfilling the church as to burst its way through the solidwalls, and diffuse itself in the open air--still, if the auditorlistened intently, and for the purpose, he could detect the samecry of pain. What was it? The complaint of a human heart,sorrow-laden, perchance guilty, telling its secret, whether ofguilt or sorrow, to the great heart of mankind; beseeching itssympathy or forgiveness,--at every moment,--in each accent,--andnever in vain! It was this profound and continual undertone thatgave the clergyman his most appropriate power.

During all this time, Hester stood, statue-like, at the foot ofthe scaffold. If the minister's voice had not kept her there,there would, nevertheless, have been an inevitable magnetism inthat spot, whence she dated the first hour of her life ofignominy. There was a sense within her--too ill-defined to bemade a thought, but weighing heavily on her mind--that her wholeorb of life, both before and after, was connected with thisspot, as with the one point that gave it unity.

Little Pearl, meanwhile, had quitted her mother's side, and wasplaying at her own will about the market-place. She made thesombre crowd cheerful by her erratic and glistening ray, even asa bird of bright plumage illuminates a whole tree of duskyfoliage by darting to and fro, half seen and half concealed amidthe twilight of the clustering leaves. She had an undulating,but oftentimes a sharp and irregular movement. It indicated therestless vivacity of her spirit, which to-day was doublyindefatigable in its tip-toe dance, because it was played uponand vibrated with her mother's disquietude. Whenever Pearl sawanything to excite her ever active and wandering curiosity, sheflew thitherward, and, as we might say, seized upon that man orthing as her own property, so far as she desired it, but withoutyielding the minutest degree of control over her motions inrequital. The Puritans looked on, and, if they smiled, were nonethe less inclined to pronounce the child a demon offspring, fromthe indescribable charm of beauty and eccentricity that shonethrough her little figure, and sparkled with its activity. Sheran and looked the wild Indian in the face, and he grewconscious of a nature wilder than his own. Thence, with nativeaudacity, but still with a reserve as characteristic, she flewinto the midst of a group of mariners, the swarthy-cheeked wildmen of the ocean, as the Indians were of the land; and theygazed wonderingly and admiringly at Pearl, as if a flake of thesea-foam had taken the shape of a little maid, and were giftedwith a soul of the sea-fire, that flashes beneath the prow inthe night-time.

One of these seafaring men the shipmaster, indeed, who hadspoken to Hester Prynne was so smitten with Pearl's aspect, thathe attempted to lay hands upon her, with purpose to snatch akiss. Finding it as impossible to touch her as to catch ahumming-bird in the air, he took from his hat the gold chainthat was twisted about it, and threw it to the child. Pearlimmediately twined it around her neck and waist with such happyskill, that, once seen there, it became a part of her, and itwas difficult to imagine her without it.

"Thy mother is yonder woman with the scarlet letter," said theseaman, "Wilt thou carry her a message from me?"

"If the message pleases me, I will," answered Pearl.

"Then tell her," rejoined he, "that I spake again with theblack-a-visaged, hump shouldered old doctor, and he engages tobring his friend, the gentleman she wots of, aboard with him. Solet thy mother take no thought, save for herself and thee. Wiltthou tell her this, thou witch-baby?"

"Mistress Hibbins says my father is the Prince of the Air!"cried Pearl, with a naughty smile. "If thou callest me thatill-name, I shall tell him of thee, and he will chase thy shipwith a tempest!"

Pursuing a zigzag course across the marketplace, the childreturned to her mother, and communicated what the mariner hadsaid. Hester's strong, calm steadfastly-enduring spirit almostsank, at last, on beholding this dark and grim countenance of aninevitable doom, which at the moment when a passage seemed toopen for the minister and herself out of their labyrinth ofmisery--showed itself with an unrelenting smile, right in themidst of their path.

With her mind harassed by the terrible perplexity in which theshipmaster's intelligence involved her, she was also subjectedto another trial. There were many people present from thecountry round about, who had often heard of the scarlet letter,and to whom it had been made terrific by a hundred false orexaggerated rumours, but who had never beheld it with their ownbodily eyes. These, after exhausting other modes of amusement,now thronged about Hester Prynne with rude and boorishintrusiveness. Unscrupulous as it was, however, it could notbring them nearer than a circuit of several yards. At thatdistance they accordingly stood, fixed there by the centrifugalforce of the repugnance which the mystic symbol inspired. Thewhole gang of sailors, likewise, observing the press ofspectators, and learning the purport of the scarlet letter, cameand thrust their sunburnt and desperado-looking faces into thering. Even the Indians were affected by a sort of cold shadow ofthe white man's curiosity and, gliding through the crowd,fastened their snake-like black eyes on Hester's bosom,conceiving, perhaps, that the wearer of this brilliantlyembroidered badge must needs be a personage of high dignityamong her people. Lastly, the inhabitants of the town (their owninterest in this worn-out subject languidly reviving itself, bysympathy with what they saw others feel) lounged idly to thesame quarter, and tormented Hester Prynne, perhaps more than allthe rest, with their cool, well-acquainted gaze at her familiarshame. Hester saw and recognized the selfsame faces of thatgroup of matrons, who had awaited her forthcoming from theprison-door seven years ago; all save one, the youngest and onlycompassionate among them, whose burial-robe she had since made.At the final hour, when she was so soon to fling aside theburning letter, it had strangely become the centre of moreremark and excitement, and was thus made to sear her breast morepainfully, than at any time since the first day she put it on.

While Hester stood in that magic circle of ignominy, where thecunning cruelty of her sentence seemed to have fixed her forever, the admirable preacher was looking down from the sacredpulpit upon an audience whose very inmost spirits had yielded tohis control. The sainted minister in the church! The woman ofthe scarlet letter in the marketplace! What imagination wouldhave been irreverent enough to surmise that the same scorchingstigma was on them both!