Червона літера
Hester and Pearl
Whatdiditbetoken?Hadsevenlongyears,underthetortureofthescarletletter,inflictedsomuchofmiseryandwroughtoutnorepentance?
Theemotionofthatbriefspace,whileshestoodgazingafterthecrookedfigureofoldRogerChillingworth,threwadarklightonHester’sstateofmind,revealingmuchthatshemightnototherwisehaveacknowledgedtoherself.
Hebeinggone,shesummonedbackherchild.
"Pearl!LittlePearl!Whereareyou?"
Pearl,whoseactivityofspiritneverflagged,hadbeenatnolossforamusementwhilehermothertalkedwiththeoldgathererofherbs.Atfirst,asalreadytold,shehadflirtedfancifullywithherownimageinapoolofwater,beckoningthephantomforth,and—asitdeclinedtoventure—seekingapassageforherselfintoitssphereofimpalpableearthandunattainablesky.Soonfinding,however,thateithersheortheimagewasunreal,sheturnedelsewhereforbetterpastime.Shemadelittleboatsoutofbirch-bark,andfreightedthemwithsnailshells,andsentoutmoreventuresonthemightydeepthananymerchantinNewEngland;butthelargerpartofthemfounderedneartheshore.Sheseizedalivehorse-shoebythetail,andmadeprizeofseveralfive-fingers,andlaidoutajelly-fishtomeltinthewarmsun.Thenshetookupthewhitefoamthatstreakedthelineoftheadvancingtide,andthrewituponthebreeze,scamperingafteritwithwingedfootstepstocatchthegreatsnowflakeseretheyfell.
