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- Стр. 17/92
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At
home
,
within
and
around
her
mother
's
cottage
,
Pearl
wanted
not
a
wide
and
various
circle
of
acquaintance
.
The
spell
of
life
went
forth
from
her
ever-creative
spirit
,
and
communicated
itself
to
a
thousand
objects
,
as
a
torch
kindles
a
flame
wherever
it
may
be
applied
.
The
unlikeliest
materials
--
a
stick
,
a
bunch
of
rags
,
a
flower
--
were
the
puppets
of
Pearl
's
witchcraft
,
and
,
without
undergoing
any
outward
change
,
became
spiritually
adapted
to
whatever
drama
occupied
the
stage
of
her
inner
world
.
Her
one
baby-voice
served
a
multitude
of
imaginary
personages
,
old
and
young
,
to
talk
withal
.
The
pine-trees
,
aged
,
black
,
and
solemn
,
and
flinging
groans
and
other
melancholy
utterances
on
the
breeze
,
needed
little
transformation
to
figure
as
Puritan
elders
the
ugliest
weeds
of
the
garden
were
their
children
,
whom
Pearl
smote
down
and
uprooted
most
unmercifully
.
It
was
wonderful
,
the
vast
variety
of
forms
into
which
she
threw
her
intellect
,
with
no
continuity
,
indeed
,
but
darting
up
and
dancing
,
always
in
a
state
of
preternatural
activity
--
soon
sinking
down
,
as
if
exhausted
by
so
rapid
and
feverish
a
tide
of
life
--
and
succeeded
by
other
shapes
of
a
similar
wild
energy
.
It
was
like
nothing
so
much
as
the
phantasmagoric
play
of
the
northern
lights
.
In
the
mere
exercise
of
the
fancy
,
however
,
and
the
sportiveness
of
a
growing
mind
,
there
might
be
a
little
more
than
was
observable
in
other
children
of
bright
faculties
;
except
as
Pearl
,
in
the
dearth
of
human
playmates
,
was
thrown
more
upon
the
visionary
throng
which
she
created
.
The
singularity
lay
in
the
hostile
feelings
with
which
the
child
regarded
all
these
offsprings
of
her
own
heart
and
mind
.
She
never
created
a
friend
,
but
seemed
always
to
be
sowing
broadcast
the
dragon
's
teeth
,
whence
sprung
a
harvest
of
armed
enemies
,
against
whom
she
rushed
to
battle
.
It
was
inexpressibly
sad
--
then
what
depth
of
sorrow
to
a
mother
,
who
felt
in
her
own
heart
the
cause
--
to
observe
,
in
one
so
young
,
this
constant
recognition
of
an
adverse
world
,
and
so
fierce
a
training
of
the
energies
that
were
to
make
good
her
cause
in
the
contest
that
must
ensue
.
Gazing
at
Pearl
,
Hester
Prynne
often
dropped
her
work
upon
her
knees
,
and
cried
out
with
an
agony
which
she
would
fain
have
hidden
,
but
which
made
utterance
for
itself
betwixt
speech
and
a
groan
--
"
O
Father
in
Heaven
--
if
Thou
art
still
my
Father
--
what
is
this
being
which
I
have
brought
into
the
world
?
"
And
Pearl
,
overhearing
the
ejaculation
,
or
aware
through
some
more
subtile
channel
,
of
those
throbs
of
anguish
,
would
turn
her
vivid
and
beautiful
little
face
upon
her
mother
,
smile
with
sprite-like
intelligence
,
and
resume
her
play
.
One
peculiarity
of
the
child
's
deportment
remains
yet
to
be
told
.
The
very
first
thing
which
she
had
noticed
in
her
life
,
was
--
what
?
--
not
the
mother
's
smile
,
responding
to
it
,
as
other
babies
do
,
by
that
faint
,
embryo
smile
of
the
little
mouth
,
remembered
so
doubtfully
afterwards
,
and
with
such
fond
discussion
whether
it
were
indeed
a
smile
.
By
no
means
!
But
that
first
object
of
which
Pearl
seemed
to
become
aware
was
--
shall
we
say
it
?
--
the
scarlet
letter
on
Hester
's
bosom
!
One
day
,
as
her
mother
stooped
over
the
cradle
,
the
infant
's
eyes
had
been
caught
by
the
glimmering
of
the
gold
embroidery
about
the
letter
;
and
putting
up
her
little
hand
she
grasped
at
it
,
smiling
,
not
doubtfully
,
but
with
a
decided
gleam
,
that
gave
her
face
the
look
of
a
much
older
child
.
Then
,
gasping
for
breath
,
did
Hester
Prynne
clutch
the
fatal
token
,
instinctively
endeavouring
to
tear
it
away
,
so
infinite
was
the
torture
inflicted
by
the
intelligent
touch
of
Pearl
's
baby-hand
.
Again
,
as
if
her
mother
's
agonised
gesture
were
meant
only
to
make
sport
for
her
,
did
little
Pearl
look
into
her
eyes
,
and
smile
.
From
that
epoch
,
except
when
the
child
was
asleep
,
Hester
had
never
felt
a
moment
's
safety
:
not
a
moment
's
calm
enjoyment
of
her
.
Weeks
,
it
is
true
,
would
sometimes
elapse
,
during
which
Pearl
's
gaze
might
never
once
be
fixed
upon
the
scarlet
letter
;
but
then
,
again
,
it
would
come
at
unawares
,
like
the
stroke
of
sudden
death
,
and
always
with
that
peculiar
smile
and
odd
expression
of
the
eyes
.
Once
this
freakish
,
elvish
cast
came
into
the
child
's
eyes
while
Hester
was
looking
at
her
own
image
in
them
,
as
mothers
are
fond
of
doing
;
and
suddenly
for
women
in
solitude
,
and
with
troubled
hearts
,
are
pestered
with
unaccountable
delusions
she
fancied
that
she
beheld
,
not
her
own
miniature
portrait
,
but
another
face
in
the
small
black
mirror
of
Pearl
's
eye
.
It
was
a
face
,
fiend-like
,
full
of
smiling
malice
,
yet
bearing
the
semblance
of
features
that
she
had
known
full
well
,
though
seldom
with
a
smile
,
and
never
with
malice
in
them
.
It
was
as
if
an
evil
spirit
possessed
the
child
,
and
had
just
then
peeped
forth
in
mockery
.
Many
a
time
afterwards
had
Hester
been
tortured
,
though
less
vividly
,
by
the
same
illusion
.
In
the
afternoon
of
a
certain
summer
's
day
,
after
Pearl
grew
big
enough
to
run
about
,
she
amused
herself
with
gathering
handfuls
of
wild
flowers
,
and
flinging
them
,
one
by
one
,
at
her
mother
's
bosom
;
dancing
up
and
down
like
a
little
elf
whenever
she
hit
the
scarlet
letter
.
Hester
's
first
motion
had
been
to
cover
her
bosom
with
her
clasped
hands
.
But
whether
from
pride
or
resignation
,
or
a
feeling
that
her
penance
might
best
be
wrought
out
by
this
unutterable
pain
,
she
resisted
the
impulse
,
and
sat
erect
,
pale
as
death
,
looking
sadly
into
little
Pearl
's
wild
eyes
.
Still
came
the
battery
of
flowers
,
almost
invariably
hitting
the
mark
,
and
covering
the
mother
's
breast
with
hurts
for
which
she
could
find
no
balm
in
this
world
,
nor
knew
how
to
seek
it
in
another
.
At
last
,
her
shot
being
all
expended
,
the
child
stood
still
and
gazed
at
Hester
,
with
that
little
laughing
image
of
a
fiend
peeping
out
--
or
,
whether
it
peeped
or
no
,
her
mother
so
imagined
it
--
from
the
unsearchable
abyss
of
her
black
eyes
.
"
Child
,
what
art
thou
?
"
cried
the
mother
.
