Червона літера
A Flood of Sunshine
ButArthurDimmesdale!Weresuchamanoncemoretofall,whatpleacouldbeurgedinextenuationofhiscrime?None;unlessitavailhimsomewhatthathewasbroker,downbylongandexquisitesuffering;thathismindwasdarkenedandconfusedbytheveryremorsewhichharrowedit;that,betweenfleeingasanavowedcriminal,andremainingasahypocrite,consciencemightfindithardtostrikethebalance;thatitwashumantoavoidtheperilofdeathandinfamy,andtheinscrutablemachinationsofanenemy;that,finally,tothispoorpilgrim,onhisdrearyanddesertpath,faint,sick,miserable,thereappearedaglimpseofhumanaffectionandsympathy,anewlife,andatrueone,inexchangefortheheavydoomwhichhewasnowexpiating.Andbethesternandsadtruthspoken,thatthebreachwhichguilthasoncemadeintothehumansoulisnever,inthismortalstate,repaired.Itmaybewatchedandguarded,sothattheenemyshallnotforcehiswayagainintothecitadel,andmighteveninhissubsequentassaults,selectsomeotheravenue,inpreferencetothatwherehehadformerlysucceeded.Butthereisstilltheruinedwall,andnearitthestealthytreadofthefoethatwouldwinoveragainhisunforgottentriumph.
Thestruggle,iftherewereone,neednotbedescribed.Letitsufficethattheclergymanresolvedtoflee,andnotalone.
"Ifinallthesepastsevenyears,"thoughthe,"Icouldrecalloneinstantofpeaceorhope,1wouldyetendure,forthesakeofthatearnestofHeaven’smercy.
