CHAPTER TWELVE

The Minister's Thought

Walking in the shadow of the night, the young minister went to the platform where seven years ago, Hester Prynne stood for her shameful public punishment after being in prison, holding her young child in her arms. The minister went up the steps to stand on the platform.

It was a dark night in early May. The sky was covered with gray clouds. There was no fear of being discovered on the platform, as he was the only one awake in the town. He could have stood there until morning, as no one in town would wake for many hours. Why, then, had he gone there? Was it to disrespect forgiveness? Disrespect, indeed, but which his soul had trouble with! He had gone there because he felt a great amount of regret and guilt which he felt everywhere. He believed he would not feel his anxious worries and guilt on that platform, where his partner in his crime had suffered so greatly. Poor, miserable man! He was too weak for crime! Only strong-minded men may be involved in crime. This weak and sensitive man could only feel guilt.

And thus, while standing on the platform, in this meaningless attempt at admitting his crime, he suddenly felt a great horror, afraid that the world was now able to see the guilty scarlet letter burning on his chest. On his heart, indeed, he felt a great deal of pain, from his guilt. He then screamed aloud in horror.

"It is done!" whispered the minister, covering his face with his hands. "The whole town will awake, and hurry to find me here!"

But it was not so. The scream had shocked him, but had not awoken the townspeople. The minister then uncovered his eyes and looked around him. At one of the windows of Governor Bellingham's home, he saw the old governor himself, with a lamp in his hand. He looked like a ghost walking through the streets. The scream had shocked him. At another window of the same house, appeared old Mistress Hibbins, the governor's sister, also with a lamp. She looked anxiously outside; this witch woman had heard Mr Dimmesdale's scream, and believed it was the devil calling to her. She then noticed the governor's lamp, and she quickly went back to her room. The governor continued to look around him for a short time before returning to his home.

The minister grew calm. He soon noticed, however, a light that was coming toward him. As the light came closer to him, he saw another minister, Mr Wilson, who had been praying at the bedside of some dying man. The old minister had just come from the home of Governor Winthrop, who had just died.

"Good evening to you, respected Minister Wilson! Come up on the platform, and stay here with me an hour!"

Had Mr Dimmesdale actually spoken? For one instant, he believed that he had spoken, but he had not. Minister Wilson continued to step slowly onward, looking careful at the muddy pathway before him, and never once turned his head towards the guilty platform.

The young minister continued to stand quietly on the platform. Morning would soon arrive, and the neighborhood would soon find him there on the guilty platform. Who would they find, standing on the platform, with a guilty look of shame? Who, but the Minister Arthur Dimmesdale, half frozen to death, and standing where Hester Prynne had stood!

Thinking about the horror of this idea, the minister, unaware of anyone else around him, began laughing aloud. His laughter was responded to by a childish laugh—he recognized the laugh of little Pearl.

"Pearl! Little Pearl!" cried he, after a moment's pause. Then, whispering, "Hester! Hester Prynne! Are you there?"

"Yes, it is Hester Prynne!" she replied in surprise. The minister then heard her come near. "It is I, and my little Pearl."

"Where have you come from, Hester?" asked the minister.

"I have been with Governor Winthrop, and have measured him for his funeral clothing, and am now going home."

"Come up here, Hester and little Pearl," said the minister Mr Dimmesdale "You have both been here before, but I was not with you. Come up here once again, and we will stand all three together!"

She silently walked up the steps and stood on the platform, holding little Pearl by the hand. The minister then gently held onto the child's other hand. He immediately felt a great connection with the two. The three formed an electric chain.

"Minister!" whispered little Pearl.

"Yes, child?" asked Mr Dimmesdale.

"Will you stand here with Mother and me, tomorrow at noon?" asked Pearl.

"No, my little Pearl," answered the minister; as his courage to speak the truth had left him, and he no longer wished to admit his terrible secret. "No, my child. I shall, indeed, stand with you and your mother on another day, but not tomorrow."

Pearl laughed, and attempted to pull away her hand, but the minister held it tightly.

"A moment longer, my child!" said he.

"But do you promise," asked Pearl, "to take my hand, and Mother's hand, tomorrow at noon?"

"Not tomorrow at noon, Pearl," said the minister, "but another time."

"And what other time?" insisted the child.

"At the great judgment day, when we are all three in Heaven and stand together before God," whispered the minister. "Then, we will stand together, but we shall not stand together in the sunlight of this world!"

Pearl laughed again.

But, before Mr Dimmesdale had finished speaking, a strange red night light beamed from the sky. And there stood the minister, with his hand over his heart; and Hester Prynne, with the scarlet letter flashing on her chest; and little Pearl, herself a scarlet letter, and the connection between those two. They stood in the noon of that strange light, as if it were the light to tell all secrets.

There was mystery in the little Pearl's eyes, and her face, as she looked up at the minister, had a naughty smile, which made her look quite strange. She took her hand from Mr Dimmesdale's and pointed across the street, but he put both his hands over his chest and looked towards the sky.

All the time that he looked upward at the sky, he saw that little Pearl was pointing her finger towards old Roger Chillingworth, who stood nearby. The minister appeared to see him, but was astonished by the light in the sky. The doctor was not careful then, as at all other times, to hide the hatred in his face.

"Who is that man, Hester?" whispered Mr Dimmesdale, terrified. "I fear him! Do you know that man? I hate him, Hester!" She remembered her promise to her former husband to never admit that they were once married, and was silent.

"My soul is in terror looking at him!" whispered the minister again. "Who is he? Who is he? Can you not tell me? I am horrified when I see this man, but I do not know why!"

"Minister," said little Pearl. "I can tell you who he is!"

"Quickly, then, child!" said the minister. "Quickly, but whisper!"

Pearl whispered something into his ear that sounded like a human language, indeed, but was simply childish language that he could not understand. The strange child then laughed aloud.

"Are you laughing at me now?" asked the minister.

"You were not bold and courageous—you were not true!" answered the child. "You would not promise to take my hand, and Mother's hand, tomorrow at noon!"

"Sir," answered the doctor, who had walked near the platform. "Mr Dimmesdale, is that you? Well, well, indeed! Come, good Sir, and my dear friend, let me take you home!"

"How did you know that I was here?" asked the minister, fearfully.

"Truly, I did not know you were here," answered Roger Chillingworth. "I had been with Governor Winthrop, assisting him as a doctor that I am. Now, come with me, Minister."

"I will go home with you," said Mr Dimmesdale.

He then allowed the old doctor to take him away.

The next day, however, being Sunday, he gave a speech to the church, which was the most powerful he had ever given. But as he came down after his speech, one of the old respected ministers was there, holding Mr Dimmesdale's glove.

"It was found," said the old minister, "this morning, on the platform where the evildoers are sent for public shame. The devil put it there. But, indeed, the devil was blind and foolish, and should know that a pure hand does not need a glove to cover it!" "Thank you, my good friend," said the minister quietly, but rather shocked. "Yes, it seems to be my glove, indeed!"

"And, since the devil stole it, you should no longer wear gloves, as your spirit is pure enough to handle him with no gloves," said the old minister smiling. "But did you hear of the great red letter in the sky last night—the letter 'A' which we believe to stand for 'Angel.' For, as our good Governor Winthrop was made an angel last night when he died."

"No," answered the minister, "I had not heard of it."

(end of section)