Червона літера
Hester at Her Needle
Butthereisafatality,afeelingsoirresistibleandinevitablethatithastheforceofdoom,whichalmostinvariablycompelshumanbeingstolingeraroundandhaunt,ghost-like,thespotwheresomegreatandmarkedeventhasgiventhecolourtotheirlifetime;and,stillthemoreirresistibly,thedarkerthetingethatsaddensit.Hersin,herignominy,weretherootswhichshehadstruckintothesoil.Itwasasifanewbirth,withstrongerassimilationsthanthefirst,hadconvertedtheforest-land,stillsouncongenialtoeveryotherpilgrimandwanderer,intoHesterPrynne’swildanddreary,butlife-longhome.Allotherscenesofearth—eventhatvillageofruralEngland,wherehappyinfancyandstainlessmaidenhoodseemedyettobeinhermother’skeeping,likegarmentsputofflongago—wereforeigntoher,incomparison.Thechainthatboundherherewasofironlinks,andgallingtoherinmostsoul,butcouldneverbebroken.
Itmightbe,too—doubtlessitwasso,althoughshehidthesecretfromherself,andgrewpalewheneveritstruggledoutofherheart,likeaserpentfromitshole—itmightbethatanotherfeelingkeptherwithinthesceneandpathwaythathadbeensofatal.Theredwelt,theretrode,thefeetofonewithwhomshedeemedherselfconnectedinaunionthat,unrecognisedonearth,wouldbringthemtogetherbeforethebaroffinaljudgment,andmakethattheirmarriage-altar,forajointfuturityofendlessretribution.
