Червона літера

           Withoutanyeffortofhiswill,orpowertorestrainhimself,heshriekedaloud:anoutcrythatwentpealingthroughthenight,andwasbeatenbackfromonehousetoanother,andreverberatedfromthehillsinthebackground;asifacompanyofdevils,detectingsomuchmiseryandterrorinit,hadmadeaplaythingofthesound,andwerebandyingittoandfro.

           "Itisdone!"mutteredtheminister,coveringhisfacewithhishands."Thewholetownwillawakeandhurryforth,andfindmehere!"

           Butitwasnotso.Theshriekhadperhapssoundedwithafargreaterpower,tohisownstartledears,thanitactuallypossessed.Thetowndidnotawake;or,ifitdid,thedrowsyslumberersmistookthecryeitherforsomethingfrightfulinadream,orforthenoiseofwitches,whosevoices,atthatperiod,wereoftenheardtopassoverthesettlementsorlonelycottages,astheyrodewithSatanthroughtheair.Theclergyman,therefore,hearingnosymptomsofdisturbance,uncoveredhiseyesandlookedabouthim.Atoneofthechamber-windowsofGovernorBellingham’smansion,whichstoodatsomedistance,onthelineofanotherstreet,hebeheldtheappearanceoftheoldmagistratehimselfwithalampinhishandawhitenight-caponhishead,andalongwhitegownenvelopinghisfigure.Helookedlikeaghostevokedunseasonablyfromthegrave.Thecryhadevidentlystartledhim.