"Thou wilt love her dearly," repeated Hester Prynne, as she and

the minister sat watching little Pearl. "Dost thou not think her

beautiful? And see with what natural skill she has made those

simple flowers adorn her! Had she gathered pearls, and diamonds,

and rubies in the wood, they could not have become her better!

She is a splendid child! But I know whose brow she has!"

"Dost thou know, Hester," said Arthur Dimmesdale, with an

unquiet smile, "that this dear child, tripping about always at

thy side, hath caused me many an alarm? Methought--oh, Hester,

what a thought is that, and how terrible to dread it!--that my

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own features were partly repeated in her face, and so strikingly

that the world might see them! But she is mostly thine!"

"No, no! Not mostly!" answered the mother, with a tender smile.

"A little longer, and thou needest not to be afraid to trace

whose child she is. But how strangely beautiful she looks with

those wild flowers in her hair! It is as if one of the fairies,

whom we left in dear old England, had decked her out to meet

us."

It was with a feeling which neither of them had ever before

experienced, that they sat and watched Pearl's slow advance. In

her was visible the tie that united them. She had been offered

to the world, these seven past years, as the living

hieroglyphic, in which was revealed the secret they so darkly

sought to hide--all written in this symbol--all plainly

manifest--had there been a prophet or magician skilled to read

the character of flame! And Pearl was the oneness of their

being. Be the foregone evil what it might, how could they doubt

that their earthly lives and future destinies were conjoined

when they beheld at once the material union, and the spiritual

idea, in whom they met, and were to dwell immortally together;

thoughts like these--and perhaps other thoughts, which they did

not acknowledge or define--threw an awe about the child as she

came onward.

"Let her see nothing strange--no passion or eagerness--in thy

way of accosting her," whispered Hester. "Our Pearl is a fitful

and fantastic little elf sometimes. Especially she is generally

intolerant of emotion, when she does not fully comprehend the

why and wherefore. But the child hath strong affections! She

loves me, and will love thee!"

"Thou canst not think," said the minister, glancing aside at

Hester Prynne, "how my heart dreads this interview, and yearns

for it! But, in truth, as I already told thee, children are not

readily won to be familiar with me. They will not climb my knee,

nor prattle in my ear, nor answer to my smile, but stand apart,

and eye me strangely. Even little babes, when I take them in my

arms, weep bitterly. Yet Pearl, twice in her little lifetime,

hath been kind to me! The first time--thou knowest it well! The

last was when thou ledst her with thee to the house of yonder

stern old Governor."




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