rm; imparting ahard; metallic lustre to the child"s character。 She wanted… whatsome people want throughout life… a grief that should deeply touchher; and thus humanise and make her capable of sympathy。 But there wastime enough yet for little Pearl。 〃e; my child!〃 said Hester; looking about her from the spot wherePearl had stood still in the sunshine。 〃We will sit down a littleway within the wood; and rest ourselves。〃 〃I am not aweary; mother;〃 replied the little girl。 〃But you may sitdown; if you will tell me a story meanwhile。〃 〃A story; child!〃 said Hester。 〃And about what?〃 〃Oh; a story about the Black Man;〃 answered Pearl; taking hold ofher mother"s gown; and looking up; half earnestly; half mischievously;into her face。 〃How he haunts this forest; and carries a book withhim… a big; heavy book; with iron clasps; and how this ugly BlackMan offers his book and an iron pen to everybody that meets him hereamong the trees; and they are to write their names with their ownblood。 And then he sets his mark on their bosoms! Didst thou ever meetthe Black Man; mother?〃 〃And who told you this story; Pearl?〃 asked her mother;recognising a mon superstition of the period。 〃It was the old dame in the chimney…corner; at the house where youwatched last night;〃 said the child。 〃But she fancied me asleepwhile she was talking of it。 She said that a thousand and a thousandpeople had met him here; and had written in his book; and have hismark on them。 And that ugly…tempered lady; old Mistress Hibbins; wasone。 And; mother; the old dame said that this scarlet letter was theBlack Man"s mark on thee; and that it glows like a red flame when thoumeetest him at midnight; here in the dark wood。 Is it true; mother?And dost thou go to meet him in the night…time?〃 〃Didst thou ever awake; and find thy mother gone?〃 asked Hester。 〃Not that I remember;〃 said the child。 〃If thou fearest to leaveme in our cottage; thou mightest take me along with thee。 I would verygladly go! But; mother; tell me now! Is there such a Black Man? Anddidst thou ever meet him? And is this his mark?〃 〃Wilt thou let me be at peace if I once tell thee?〃 asked hermother。 〃Yes; if thou tellest me all;〃 answered Pearl。 〃Once in my life I met the Black Man!〃 said her mother。 〃Thisscarlet letter is his mark!〃 Thus conversing; they entered sufficiently deep into the wood tosecure themselves from the observation of any casual passenger alongthe forest track。 Here they sat down on a luxuriant heap of moss;which; at some epoch of the preceding century; had been a giganticpine; with its roots and trunk in the darksome shade; and its headaloft in the upper atmosphere。 It was a little dell where they hadseated themselves; with a leaf…strewn bank rising gently on eitherside; and a brook flowing through the midst; over a bed of fallenand drowned leaves。 The trees impending over it had flung down greatbranches; from time to time; which choked up the current; andpelled it to form eddies and black depths at some points; while; inits swifter and livelier passages; there appeared a channel…way ofpebbles; and brown; sparkling sand。 Letting the eyes follow alongthe course of the stream; they could catch the reflected light fromits water; at some short distance within the forest; but soon lost alltraces of it amid the bewilderment of tree…trunks and underbrush;and here and there a huge rock covered over with grey lichens。 Allthese giant trees and boulders of granite seemed intent on making amystery of the course of this small brook; fearing; perhaps; that;with its never…ceasing loquacity; it should whisper tales out of theheart of the old forest whence it flowed; or mirror its revelations onthe smooth surface of a pool。 Continually; indeed; as it stole onward;the streamlet kept up a babble; kind; quiet; soothing; but melancholy;like the voice of a young child that was spending its infancywithout playfulness; and knew not how to be merry among sadacquaintance and events of sombre hue。 〃O brook! O foolish and tiresome little brook!〃 cried Pearl; afterlistening awhile to its talk。 〃Why art thou so sad? Pluck up a spirit;and do not be all the time sighing and murmuring!〃 But the brook; in the course of its little lifetime among theforest…trees; had gone through so solemn an experience that it couldnot help talking about it; and seemed to have nothing else to say。Pearl resembled the brook inasmuch as the current of her life gushedfrom a well…spring as mysterious; and had flowed through scenesshadowed as heavily with gloom。 But; unlike the little stream; shedanced and sparkled; and prattled airily along her course。 〃What does this sad little brook say; mother?〃 inquired she。 〃If thou hadst a sorrow of thine own; the brook might tell thee ofit;〃 answered her mother; 〃even as it is telling me of mine! Butnow; Pearl; I hear a footstep along the path; and the noise of oneputting aside the branches。 I would have thee betake thyself toplay; and leave me to speak with him that es yonder。〃 〃Is it the Black Man?〃 asked Pearl。 〃Wilt thou go and play; child?〃 repeated her mother。 〃But do notstray far into the wood。 And take heed that thou e at my firstcall。〃 〃Yes; mother;〃 answered Pearl。 〃But if it be the Black Man; wiltthou not let me stay a moment; and look at him; with his big bookunder his arm?〃 〃Go; silly child!〃 said her mother impatiently。 〃It is no Black Man!Thou canst see him now; through the trees。 It is the minister!〃 〃And so it is!〃 said the child。 〃And; mother; he has his hand overhis heart! Is it because; when the minister wrote his name in thebook; the Black Man set his mark in that place? But why does he notwear it outside his bosom; as thou dost; mother?〃 〃Go now; child; and thou shalt tease me as thou wilt anothertime;〃 cried Hester Prynne。 〃But do not stray far。 Keep where thoucanst hear the babble of the brook。〃 The child went singing away; following up the current of thebrook; and striving to mingle a more lightsome cadence with itsmelancholy voice。 But the little stream would not be forted; andstill kept telling its unintelligible secret of some very mournfulmystery that had happened… or making a prophetic lamentation aboutsomething that was yet to happen… within the verge of th
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