Червона літера

           Bynomeans!ButthatfirstobjectofwhichPearlseemedtobecomeawarewas—shallwesayit?—thescarletletteronHester’sbosom!Oneday,ashermotherstoopedoverthecradle,theinfant’seyeshadbeencaughtbytheglimmeringofthegoldembroideryabouttheletter;andputtingupherlittlehandshegraspedatit,smiling,notdoubtfully,butwithadecidedgleam,thatgaveherfacethelookofamucholderchild.Then,gaspingforbreath,didHesterPrynneclutchthefataltoken,instinctivelyendeavouringtotearitaway,soinfinitewasthetortureinflictedbytheintelligenttouchofPearl’sbaby-hand.Again,asifhermother’sagonisedgestureweremeantonlytomakesportforher,didlittlePearllookintohereyes,andsmile.Fromthatepoch,exceptwhenthechildwasasleep,Hesterhadneverfeltamoment’ssafety:notamoment’scalmenjoymentofher.Weeks,itistrue,wouldsometimeselapse,duringwhichPearl’sgazemightneveroncebefixeduponthescarletletter;butthen,again,itwouldcomeatunawares,likethestrokeofsuddendeath,andalwayswiththatpeculiarsmileandoddexpressionoftheeyes.

           Oncethisfreakish,elvishcastcameintothechild’seyeswhileHesterwaslookingatherownimageinthem,asmothersarefondofdoing;andsuddenlyforwomeninsolitude,andwithtroubledhearts,arepesteredwithunaccountabledelusionsshefanciedthatshebeheld,notherownminiatureportrait,butanotherfaceinthesmallblackmirrorofPearl’seye.