Червона літера
The Minister’s Vigil
Dimmesdalenotedalltheseminuteparticulars,evenwhilefirmlyconvincedthatthedoomofhisexistencewasstealingonward,inthefootstepswhichhenowheard;andthatthegleamofthelanternwouldfalluponhiminafewmomentsmore,andrevealhislong-hiddensecret.Asthelightdrewnearer,bebeheld,withinitsilluminatedcircle,hisbrotherclergyman—or,tospeakmoreaccurately,hisprofessionalfather,aswellashighlyvaluedfriend—theReverendMr.Wilson,who,asMr.Dimmesdalenowconjectured,hadbeenprayingatthebedsideofsomedyingman.Andsohehad.Thegoodoldministercamefreshlyfromthedeath-chamberofGovernorWinthrop,whohadpassedfromearthtoheavenwithinthatveryhour.Andnowsurrounded,likethesaint-likepersonageofoldentimes,witharadianthalo,thatglorifiedhimamidthisgloomynightofsin—asifthedepartedGovernorhadlefthimaninheritanceofhisglory,orasifhehadcaughtuponhimselfthedistantshineofthecelestialcity,whilelookingthitherwardtoseethetriumphantpilgrimpasswithinitsgates—now,inshort,goodFatherWilsonwasmovinghomeward,aidinghisfootstepswithalightedlantern!TheglimmerofthisluminarysuggestedtheaboveconceitstoMr.Dimmesdale,whosmiled—nay,almostlaughedatthem—andthenwonderedifhewasgoingmad.
AstheReverendMr.
