Червона літера
The Minister in a Maze
Suchwashissenseofpoweroverthisvirginsoul,trustinghimasshedid,thattheministerfeltpotenttoblightallthefieldofinnocencewithbutonewickedlook,anddevelopallitsoppositewithbutaword.So—withamightierstrugglethanhehadyetsustained—heheldhisGenevacloakbeforehisface,andhurriedonward,makingnosignofrecognition,andleavingtheyoungsistertodigesthisrudenessasshemight.Sheransackedherconscience—whichwasfullofharmlesslittlematters,likeherpocketorherwork-bag—andtookherselftotask,poorthing!forathousandimaginaryfaults,andwentaboutherhouseholddutieswithswolleneyelidsthenextmorning.
Beforetheministerhadtimetocelebratehisvictoryoverthislasttemptation,hewasconsciousofanotherimpulse,moreludicrous,andalmostashorrible.Itwas—weblushtotellit—itwastostopshortintheroad,andteachsomeverywickedwordstoaknotoflittlePuritanchildrenwhowereplayingthere,andhadbutjustbeguntotalk.Denyinghimselfthisfreak,asunworthyofhiscloth,hemetadrunkenseaman,oneoftheship’screwfromtheSpanishMain.Andhere,sincehehadsovaliantlyforborneallotherwickedness,poorMr.
