Червона літера
The Prison Door
Beforethisuglyedifice,andbetweenitandthewheel-trackofthestreet,wasagrass-plot,muchovergrownwithburdock,pig-weed,apple-pern,andsuchunsightlyvegetation,whichevidentlyfoundsomethingcongenialinthesoilthathadsoearlybornetheblackflowerofcivilisedsociety,aprison.Butononesideoftheportal,androotedalmostatthethreshold,wasawildrose-bush,covered,inthismonthofJune,withitsdelicategems,whichmightbeimaginedtooffertheirfragranceandfragilebeautytotheprisonerashewentin,andtothecondemnedcriminalashecameforthtohisdoom,intokenthatthedeepheartofNaturecouldpityandbekindtohim.
Thisrose-bush,byastrangechance,hasbeenkeptaliveinhistory;butwhetherithadmerelysurvivedoutofthesternoldwilderness,solongafterthefallofthegiganticpinesandoaksthatoriginallyovershadowedit,orwhether,asthereisfarauthorityforbelieving,ithadsprungupunderthefootstepsofthesaintedAnnHutchinsonassheenteredtheprison-door,weshallnottakeuponustodetermine.Findingitsodirectlyonthethresholdofournarrative,whichisnowabouttoissuefromthatinauspiciousportal,wecouldhardlydootherwisethanpluckoneofitsflowers,andpresentittothereader.Itmayserve,letushope,tosymbolisesomesweetmoralblossomthatmaybefoundalongthetrack,orrelievethedarkeningcloseofataleofhumanfrailtyandsorrow.
