Червона літера
A Forest Walk
Itwillsoonbegone"
Pearlsetforthatagreatpace,andasHestersmiledtoperceive,didactuallycatchthesunshine,andstoodlaughinginthemidstofit,allbrightenedbyitssplendour,andscintillatingwiththevivacityexcitedbyrapidmotion.Thelightlingeredaboutthelonelychild,asifgladofsuchaplaymate,untilhermotherhaddrawnalmostnighenoughtostepintothemagiccircletoo.
"Itwillgonow,"saidPearl,shakingherhead.
"See!"answeredHester,smiling;"nowIcanstretchoutmyhandandgraspsomeofit."
Assheattemptedtodoso,thesunshinevanished;or,tojudgefromthebrightexpressionthatwasdancingonPearl’sfeatures,hermothercouldhavefanciedthatthechildhadabsorbeditintoherself,andwouldgiveitforthagain,withagleamaboutherpath,astheyshouldplungeintosomegloomiershade.TherewasnootherattributethatsomuchimpressedherwithasenseofnewanduntransmittedvigourinPearl’snature,asthisneverfailingvivacityofspirits:shehadnotthediseaseofsadness,whichalmostallchildren,intheselatterdays,inherit,withthescrofula,fromthetroublesoftheirancestors.Perhapsthis,too,wasadisease,andbutthereflexofthewildenergywithwhichHesterhadfoughtagainsthersorrowsbeforePearl’sbirth.Itwascertainlyadoubtfulcharm,impartingahard,metalliclustretothechild’scharacter.Shewanted—whatsomepeoplewantthroughoutlife—agriefthatshoulddeeplytouchher,andthushumaniseandmakehercapableofsympathy.
