y slowly; her handiwork became what would nowbe termed the fashion。 Whether from miseration for a woman of somiserable a destiny; or from the morbid curiosity that gives afictitious value even to mon or worthless things; or by whateverother intangible circumstance was then; as now; sufficient tobestow; on some persons; what others might seek in vain; or becauseHester really filled a gap which must otherwise have remainedvacant; it is certain that she had ready and fairly requitedemployment for as many hours as she saw fit to occupy with her needle。Vanity; it may be; chose to mortify itself; by putting on; forceremonials of pomp and state; the garments that had been wrought byher sinful hands。 Her needle…work was seen on the ruff of theGovernor; military men wore it on their scarfs; and the minister onhis hand; it decked the baby's little cap; it was shut up; to bemildewed and moulder away; in the coffins of the dead。 But it is notrecorded that; in a single instance; her skill was called in aid toembroider the white veil which was to cover the pure blushes of abride。 The exception indicated the ever relentless vigour with whichsociety frowned upon her sin。 Hester sought not to acquire anything beyond a subsistence; of theplainest and most ascetic description; for herself; and a simpleabundance for her child。 Her own dress was of the coarsest materialsand the most sombre hue; with only that one ornament… the scarletletter… which it was her doom to wear。 The child's attire; on theother hand; was distinguished by a fanciful; or; we might rathersay; a fantastic ingenuity; which served; indeed; to heighten the airycharm that early began to develop itself in the little girl; but whichappeared to have also a deeper meaning。 We may speak further of ithereafter。 Except for that small expenditure in the decoration ofher infant; Hester bestowed all her superfluous means in charity; onwretches less miserable than herself; and who not infrequentlyinsulted the hand that fed them。 Much of the time; which she mightreadily have applied to the better efforts of her art; she employed inmaking coarse garments for the poor。 It is probable that there wasan idea of penance in this mode of occupation; and that she offered upa real sacrifice of enjoyment; in devoting so many hours to suchrude handiwork。 She had in her nature a rich; voluptuous; Orientalcharacteristic… a taste for the gorgeously beautiful; which; save inthe exquisite productions of her needle; found nothing else; in allthe possibilities of her life; to exercise itself upon。 Women derive apleasure; inprehensible to the other sex; from the delicate toil ofthe needle。 To Hester Prynne it might have been a mode ofexpressing; and therefore soothing; the passion of her life。 Likeall other joys; she rejected it as sin。 This morbid meddling ofconscience with an immaterial matter betokened; it is to be feared; nogenuine and steadfast penitence; but something doubtful; somethingthat might be deeply wrong; beneath。 In this manner; Hester Prynne came to have a part to perform inthe world。 With her native energy of character; and rare capacity;it could not entirely cast her off; although it had set a mark uponher; more intolerable to a woman's heart than that which branded thebrow of Cain。 In all her intercourse with society; however; therewas nothing that made her feel as if she belonged to it。 Everygesture; every word; and even the silence of those with whom shecame in contact; implied; and often expressed; that she wasbanished; and as much alone as if she inhabited another sphere; ormunicated with the mon nature by other organs and senses thanthe rest of human kind。 She stood apart from moral interests; yetclose beside them; like a ghost that revisits the familiar fireside;and can no longer make itself seen or felt; no more smile with thehousehold joy; nor mourn with the kindred sorrow; or; should itsucceed in manifesting its forbidden sympathy; awakening only terrorand horrible repugnance。 These emotions; in fact; and its bitterestscorn besides; seemed to be the sole portion that she retained inthe universal heart。 It was not an age of delicacy; and herposition; although she understood it well; and was in little danger offorgetting it; was often brought before her vivid self…perception;like a new anguish; by the rudest touch upon the tenderest spot。 Thepoor; as we have already said; whom she sought out to be the objectsof her bounty; often reviled the hand that was stretched forth tosuccour them。 Dames of elevated rank; likewise; whose doors sheentered in the way of her occupation; were accustomed to distildrops of bitterness into her heart; sometimes through that alchemyof quiet malice; by which women can concoct a subtile poison fromordinary trifles; and sometimes; also; by a coarser expression; thatfell upon the sufferer's defenceless breast like a rough blow uponan ulcerated wound。 Hester had schooled herself long and well; shenever responded to these attacks; save by a flush of crimson that roseirrepressibly over her pale cheek; and again subsided into thedepths of her bosom。 She was patient… a martyr; indeed… but sheforbore to pray for her enemies; lest; in spite of her forgivingaspirations; the words of the blessing should stubbornly twistthemselves into a curse。 Continually; and in a thousand other ways; did she feel theinnumerable throbs of anguish that had been so cunningly contrived forher by the undying; the ever…active sentence of the Puritantribunal。 Clergymen paused in the street to address words ofexhortation; that brought a crowd; with its mingled grin and frown;around the poor; sinful woman。 If she entered a church; trusting toshare the Sabbath smile of the Universal Father; it was often hermishap to find herself the text of the discourse。 She grew to have adread of children; for they had imbibed from their parents a vagueidea of something horrible in this dreary woman; gliding silentlythrough the town; with never any panion but one only child。Therefore; first allowing her to pass; they pursued her at adistance with shrill cries; and the utterance of a word that had nodistinct purport to their own minds; but was none the less terrible toher; as proceeding from lips that babbled it unconsciously。 Itseemed to argue so wide a diffusion of her shame; that all nature knewof it; it could have caused her no deeper pang; had the leaves ofthe trees whispered the dark story among themselves… had the summerbreeze murmured about it… had the wintry blast shrieked it aloud!Another peculiar torture was felt in the gaze of a new eye。 Whenstrangers looked curiously at the scarlet letter… and none ever failedto do so… they branded it afresh into Hester's soul; so that;oftentimes; she could scarcely refrain; yet always did refrain; fromcovering the symbol with her hand。 But then; again; an accustomedeye had likewise its own anguish to inflict。 Its cool stare offamiliarity was intolerable。 From first to last; in short; HesterPrynne had always this dreadful agony in feeling a human eye uponthe token; the spot never grew callous; it seemed; on the contrary; togrow more sensitive with daily torture。 But sometimes; once in many days; or perchance in many months; shefelt an eye… a human eye… upon the ignominious brand; that seemed togive a momentary relief; as if half of her agony were shared。 The nextinstant; back it all rushed again; with still a deeper throb ofpain; for; in that brief interval; she had sinned anew。 Had Hestersinned alone? Her imagination was somewhat affected; and; had she been of a softermoral and intellectual fibre; would have been still more so; by thestrange and solitary anguish of her life。 Walking to and fro; withthose lonely footsteps; in the little world with which she wasoutwardly connected; it now and then appeared to Hester… if altogetherfancy; it was nevertheless too potent to be resisted… she felt orfancied; then; that the scarlet letter had endowed her with a newsense。 She shuddered to believe; yet could not help believing; that itgave her a sympathetic knowledge of the hidden sin in other hearts。She was terror…stricken by the revelations that were thus made。 Whatwere they? Could they be other than the insidious whispers of thebad angel; who would fain have persuaded the struggling woman; asyet only half his victim; that the outward guise of purity was but alie; and that; if truth were everywhere to be shown; a scarletletter would blaze forth on many a bosom besides Hester Prynne's?Or; must she receive those intimations… so obscure; yet so distinct…as truth? In all her miserable experience; there was nothing else soawful and so loathsome as this sense。 It perplexed; as well as shockedher; by the irreverent inopportuneness of the occasions that broughtit into vivid action。 Sometimes the red infamy upon her breast wouldgive a sympathetic throb; as she passed near a venerable minister ormagistrate; the model of piety and justice; to whom that age ofantique reverence looked up; as to a mortal man in fellowship withangels。 〃What evil thing is at hand?〃 would Hester say to herself。Lifting her reluctant eyes; there would be nothing human within thescope of view; save the form of this earthly saint! Again; a mysticsisterhood would contumaciously assert itself; as she met thesanctifie
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