Червона літера
The Pastor and His Parishioner
"Wiltthounotfrown?Wiltthouforgive?"
"Idoforgiveyou,Hester,"repliedtheministeratlength,withadeeputterance,outofanabyssofsadness,butnoanger."Ifreelyforgiveyounow.MayGodforgiveusboth.Wearenot,Hester,theworstsinnersintheworld.Thereisoneworsethaneventhepollutedpriest!Thatoldman’srevengehasbeenblackerthanmysin.Hehasviolated,incoldblood,thesanctityofahumanheart.ThouandI,Hester,neverdidso!"
"Never,never!"whisperedshe."Whatwedidhadaconsecrationofitsown.Wefeltitso!Wesaidsotoeachother.Hastthouforgottenit?"
"Hush,Hester!"saidArthurDimmesdale,risingfromtheground."No;Ihavenotforgotten!"
Theysatdownagain,sidebyside,andhandclaspedinhand,onthemossytrunkofthefallentree.Lifehadneverbroughtthemagloomierhour;itwasthepointwhithertheirpathwayhadsolongbeentending,anddarkeningever,asitstolealong—andyetitunclosedacharmthatmadethemlingeruponit,andclaimanother,andanother,and,afterall,anothermoment.Theforestwasobscurearoundthem,andcreakedwithablastthatwaspassingthroughit.Theboughsweretossingheavilyabovetheirheads;whileonesolemnoldtreegroaneddolefullytoanother,asiftellingthesadstoryofthepairthatsatbeneath,orconstrainedtoforbodeeviltocome.
Andyettheylingered.
