Червона літера
Pearl
Hermother,whilePearlwasyetaninfant,grewacquaintedwithacertainpeculiarlook,thatwarnedherwhenitwouldbelabourthrownawaytoinsist,persuadeorplead.
Itwasalooksointelligent,yetinexplicable,perverse,sometimessomalicious,butgenerallyaccompaniedbyawildflowofspirits,thatHestercouldnothelpquestioningatsuchmomentswhetherPearlwasahumanchild.Sheseemedratheranairysprite,which,afterplayingitsfantasticsportsforalittlewhileuponthecottagefloor,wouldflitawaywithamockingsmile.Wheneverthatlookappearedinherwild,bright,deeplyblackeyes,itinvestedherwithastrangeremotenessandintangibility:itwasasifshewerehoveringintheair,andmightvanish,likeaglimmeringlightthatcomesweknownotwhenceandgoesweknownotwhither.Beholdingit,Hesterwasconstrainedtorushtowardsthechild—topursuethelittleelfintheflightwhichsheinvariablybegan—tosnatchhertoherbosomwithaclosepressureandearnestkisses—notsomuchfromoverflowingloveastoassureherselfthatPearlwasfleshandblood,andnotutterlydelusive.ButPearl’slaugh,whenshewascaught,thoughfullofmerrimentandmusic,madehermothermoredoubtfulthanbefore.
Heart-smittenatthisbewilderingandbafflingspell,thatsooftencamebetweenherselfandhersoletreasure,whomshehadboughtsodear,andwhowasallherworld,Hestersometimesburstintopassionatetears.
