XIX.-THE CHILD AT THE BROOK-SIDE.

hou wilt love her dearly,” repeated Hester
Prynne, as she and the minister sat watching
little Pearl. “Dost thou not think her
beautiful? And see with what natural
skill she has made those simple flowers
adorn her! Had she gathered pearls, and
diamonds, and rubies, in the wood, they could not have become
her better. She is a splendid child! But I know whose brow
she has!”hou“Dost thou know, Hester,” said Arthur Dimmesdale, with
an unquiet smile, “that this dear child, tripping about always
at thy side, hath caused me many an alarm? Methought—O
Hester, what a thought is that, and how terrible to dread it!—that
my own features were partly repeated in her face, and so
strikingly that the world might see them! But she is mostly
thine!”“No, no! Not mostly!” answered the mother, with a tender
smile. “A little longer, and thou needest not to be afraid
to trace whose child she is. But how strangely beautiful she
looks, with those wild-flowers in her hair! It is as if one of
the fairies, whom we left in our dear old England, had decked
her out to meet us.”It was with a feeling which neither of them had ever before
experienced, that they sat and watched Pearl’s slow advance.
In her was visible the tie that united them. She had been
offered to the world, these seven years past, as the living hieroglyphic,
in which was revealed the secret they so darkly sought
to hide,—all written in this symbol,—all plainly manifest,—had
there been a prophet or magician skilled to read the character
of flame! And Pearl was the oneness of their being. Be
the foregone evil what it might, how could they doubt that
their earthly lives and future destinies were conjoined, when
they beheld at once the material union, and the spiritual idea,
in whom they met, and were to dwell immortally together?
Thoughts like these—and perhaps other thoughts, which they
did not acknowledge or define—threw an awe about the child,
as she came onward.“Let her see nothing strange—no passion nor eagerness—in
thy way of accosting her,” whispered Hester. “Our Pearl
is a fitful and fantastic little elf, sometimes. Especially, she is
seldom tolerant of emotion, when she does not fully comprehend
the why and wherefore. But the child hath strong affections!
She loves me, and will love thee!”“Thou canst not think,” said the minister, glancing aside
at Hester Prynne, “how my heart dreads this interview, and
yearns for it! But, in truth, as I already told thee, children
are not readily won to be familiar with me. They will not
climb my knee, nor prattle in my ear, nor answer to my smile;
but stand apart, and eye me strangely. Even little babes, when
I take them in my arms, weep bitterly. Yet Pearl, twice in
her little lifetime, hath been kind to me! The first time,—thou
knowest it well! The last was when thou ledst her with
thee to the house of yonder stern old Governor.”“And thou didst plead so bravely in her behalf and mine!”
answered the mother. “I remember it; and so shall little
Pearl. Fear nothing! She may be strange and shy at first,
but will soon learn to love thee!”By this time Pearl had reached the margin of the brook, and
stood on the farther side, gazing silently at Hester and the
clergyman, who still sat together on the mossy tree-trunk, waiting
to receive her. Just where she had paused, the brook
chanced to form a pool, so smooth and quiet that it reflected
a perfect image of her little figure, with all the brilliant picturesqueness
of her beauty, in its adornment of flowers and wreathed
foliage, but more refined and spiritualized than the reality. This
image, so nearly identical with the living Pearl, seemed to communicate
somewhat of its own shadowy and intangible quality
to the child herself. It was strange, the way in which Pearl
stood, looking so steadfastly at them through the dim medium
of the forest-gloom; herself, meanwhile, all glorified with a ray
of sunshine, that was attracted thitherward as by a certain sympathy.
In the brook beneath stood another child,—another
and the same,—with likewise its ray of golden light. Hester
felt herself, in some indistinct and tantalizing manner, estranged
from Pearl; as if the child, in her lonely ramble through the
forest, had strayed out of the sphere in which she and her
mother dwelt together, and was now vainly seeking to return
to it.There was both truth and error in the impression; the child
and mother were estranged, but through Hester’s fault, not
Pearl’s. Since the latter rambled from her side, another inmate
had been admitted within the circle of the mother’s feelings,
and so modified the aspect of them all, that Pearl, the returning
wanderer, could not find her wonted place, and hardly knew
where she was.“I have a strange fancy,” observed the sensitive minister,
“that this brook is the boundary between two worlds, and that
thou canst never meet thy Pearl again. Or is she an elfish
spirit, who, as the legends of our childhood taught us, is forbidden
to cross a running stream? Pray hasten her; for this
delay has already imparted a tremor to my nerves.”“Come, dearest child!” said Hester, encouragingly, and stretching
out both her arms. “How slow thou art! When hast
thou been so sluggish before now? Here is a friend of mine,
who must be thy friend also. Thou wilt have twice as much
love, henceforward, as thy mother alone could give thee! Leap
across the brook, and come to us. Thou canst leap like a
young deer!”Pearl, without responding in any manner to these honey-sweet
expressions, remained on the other side of the brook. Now she
fixed her bright, wild eyes on her mother, now on the minister,
and now included them both in the same glance; as if to detect
and explain to herself the relation which they bore to one
another. For some unaccountable reason, as Arthur Dimmesdale
felt the child’s eyes upon himself, his hand—with that
gesture so habitual as to have become involuntary—stole over
his heart. At length, assuming a singular air of authority,
Pearl stretched out her hand, with the small forefinger extended,
and pointing evidently towards her mother’s breast. And
beneath, in the mirror of the brook, there was the flower-girdled
and sunny image of little Pearl, pointing her small forefinger
too.“Thou strange child, why dost thou not come to me?” exclaimed
Hester.Pearl still pointed with her forefinger; and a frown gathered
on her brow; the more impressive from the childish, the almost
baby-like aspect of the features that conveyed it. As her mother
still kept beckoning to her, and arraying her face in a holiday
suit of unaccustomed smiles, the child stamped her foot with a
yet more imperious look and gesture. In the brook, again, was
the fantastic beauty of the image, with its reflected frown, its
pointed finger, and imperious gesture, giving emphasis to the
aspect of little Pearl.“Hasten, Pearl; or I shall be angry with thee!” cried
Hester Prynne, who, however inured to such behavior on
the elf-child’s part at other seasons, was naturally anxious
for a more seemly deportment now. “Leap across the
brook, naughty child, and run hither! Else I must come to
thee!”But Pearl, not a whit startled at her mother’s threats, any
more than mollified by her entreaties, now suddenly burst into
a fit of passion, gesticulating violently, and throwing her small
figure into the most extravagant contortions. She accompanied
this wild outbreak with piercing shrieks, which the woods reverberated
on all sides; so that, alone as she was in her childish
and unreasonable wrath, it seemed as if a hidden multitude were
lending her their sympathy and encouragement. Seen in the
brook, once more, was the shadowy wrath of Pearl’s image,
crowned and girdled with flowers, but stamping its foot, wildly
gesticulating, and, in the midst of all, still pointing its small
forefinger at Hester’s bosom!“I see what ails the child,” whispered Hester to the clergyman,
and turning pale in spite of a strong effort to conceal her
trouble and annoyance. “Children will not abide any, the
slightest, change in the accustomed aspect of things that are
daily before their eyes. Pearl misses something which she has
always seen me wear!”“I pray you,” answered the minister, “if thou hast any
means of pacifying the child, do it forthwith! Save it were the
cankered wrath of an old witch, like Mistress Hibbins,” added
he, attempting to smile, “I know nothing that I would not
sooner encounter than this passion in a child. In Pearl’s young
beauty, as in the wrinkled witch, it has a preternatural effect.
Pacify her, if thou lovest me!”Hester turned again towards Pearl, with a crimson blush upon
her cheek, a conscious glance aside at the clergyman, and then a
heavy sigh; while, even before she had time to speak, the blush
yielded to a deadly pallor.“Pearl,” said she, sadly, “look down at thy feet! There!—before
thee!—on the hither side of the brook!”The child turned her eyes to the point indicated; and there
lay the scarlet letter, so close upon the margin of the stream,
that the gold embroidery was reflected in it.“Bring it hither!” said Hester.“Come thou and take it up!” answered Pearl.“Was ever such a child!” observed Hester, aside to the
minister. “O, I have much to tell thee about her! But, in
very truth, she is right as regards this hateful token. I must
bear its torture yet a little longer,—only a few days longer,—until
we shall have left this region, and look back hither as
to a land which we have dreamed of. The forest cannot hide
it! The mid-ocean shall take it from my hand, and swallow it
up forever!”With these words, she advanced to the margin of the brook,
took up the scarlet letter, and fastened it again into her bosom.
Hopefully, but a moment ago, as Hester had spoken of drowning
it in the deep sea, there was a sense of inevitable doom
upon her, as she thus received back this deadly symbol from
the hand of fate. She had flung it into infinite space!—she
had drawn an hour’s free breath!—and here again was the
scarlet misery, glittering on the old spot! So it ever is, whether
thus typified or no, that an evil deed invests itself with the
character of doom. Hester next gathered up the heavy tresses
of her hair, and confined them beneath her cap. As if there
were a withering spell in the sad letter, her beauty, the warmth
and richness of her womanhood, departed, like fading sunshine;
and a gray shadow seemed to fall across her.When the dreary change was wrought, she extended her hand
to Pearl.“Dost thou know thy mother now, child?” asked she, reproachfully,
but with a subdued tone. “Wilt thou come across
the brook, and own thy mother, now that she has her shame
upon her,—now that she is sad?”“Yes; now I will!” answered the child, bounding across
the brook, and clasping Hester in her arms. “Now thou art
my mother indeed! And I am thy little Pearl!”In a mood of tenderness that was not usual with her, she
drew down her mother’s head, and kissed her brow and both
her cheeks. But then—by a kind of necessity that always impelled
this child to alloy whatever comfort she might chance to
give with a throb of anguish—Pearl put up her mouth, and
kissed the scarlet letter too!“That was not kind!” said Hester. “When thou hast shown
me a little love, thou mockest me!”“Why doth the minister sit yonder?” asked Pearl.“He waits to welcome thee,” replied her mother. “Come
thou, and entreat his blessing! He loves thee, my little Pearl,
and loves thy mother too. Wilt thou not love him? Come!
he longs to greet thee!”“Doth he love us?” said Pearl, looking up, with acute
intelligence, into her mother’s face. “Will he go back with
us, hand in hand, we three together, into the town?”“Not now, dear child,” answered Hester. “But in days to
come he will walk hand in hand with us. We will have a
home and fireside of our own; and thou shalt sit upon his
knee; and he will teach thee many things, and love thee dearly.
Thou wilt love him; wilt thou not?”“And will he always keep his hand over his heart?” inquired
Pearl.“Foolish child, what a question is that!” exclaimed her
mother. “Come and ask his blessing!”But, whether influenced by the jealousy that seems instinctive
with every petted child towards a dangerous rival, or from whatever
caprice of her freakish nature, Pearl would show no favor
to the clergyman. It was only by an exertion of force that
her mother brought her up to him, hanging back, and manifesting
her reluctance by odd grimaces; of which, ever since her
babyhood, she had possessed a singular variety, and could transform
her mobile physiognomy into a series of different aspects,
with a new mischief in them, each and all. The minister—painfully
embarrassed, but hoping that a kiss might prove a
talisman to admit him into the child’s kindlier regards—bent
forward, and impressed one on her brow. Hereupon, Pearl
broke away from her mother, and, running to the brook, stooped
over it, and bathed her forehead, until the unwelcome kiss was
quite washed off, and diffused through a long lapse of the gliding
water. She then remained apart, silently watching Hester
and the clergyman; while they talked together, and made such
arrangements as were suggested by their new position, and the
purposes soon to be fulfilled.And now this fateful interview had come to a close. The
dell was to be left a solitude among its dark, old trees, which,
with their multitudinous tongues, would whisper long of what
had passed there, and no mortal be the wiser. And the melancholy
brook would add this other tale to the mystery with
which its little heart was already overburdened, and whereof it
still kept up a murmuring babble, with not a whit more cheerfulness
of tone than for ages heretofore.