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Within
the
church
,
it
had
hardly
been
kept
down
;
beneath
the
sky
it
pealed
upward
to
the
zenith
.
There
were
human
beings
enough
,
and
enough
of
highly
wrought
and
symphonious
feeling
to
produce
that
more
impressive
sound
than
the
organ
tones
of
the
blast
,
or
the
thunder
,
or
the
roar
of
the
sea
;
even
that
mighty
swell
of
many
voices
,
blended
into
one
great
voice
by
the
universal
impulse
which
makes
likewise
one
vast
heart
out
of
the
many
.
Never
,
from
the
soil
of
New
England
had
gone
up
such
a
shout
!
Never
,
on
New
England
soil
had
stood
the
man
so
honoured
by
his
mortal
brethren
as
the
preacher
!
How
fared
it
with
him
,
then
?
Were
there
not
the
brilliant
particles
of
a
halo
in
the
air
about
his
head
?
So
etherealised
by
spirit
as
he
was
,
and
so
apotheosised
by
worshipping
admirers
,
did
his
footsteps
,
in
the
procession
,
really
tread
upon
the
dust
of
earth
?
As
the
ranks
of
military
men
and
civil
fathers
moved
onward
,
all
eyes
were
turned
towards
the
point
where
the
minister
was
seen
to
approach
among
them
.
The
shout
died
into
a
murmur
,
as
one
portion
of
the
crowd
after
another
obtained
a
glimpse
of
him
.
How
feeble
and
pale
he
looked
,
amid
all
his
triumph
!
The
energy
--
or
say
,
rather
,
the
inspiration
which
had
held
him
up
,
until
he
should
have
delivered
the
sacred
message
that
had
brought
its
own
strength
along
with
it
from
heaven
--
was
withdrawn
,
now
that
it
had
so
faithfully
performed
its
office
.
The
glow
,
which
they
had
just
before
beheld
burning
on
his
cheek
,
was
extinguished
,
like
a
flame
that
sinks
down
hopelessly
among
the
late
decaying
embers
.
It
seemed
hardly
the
face
of
a
man
alive
,
with
such
a
death-like
hue
:
it
was
hardly
a
man
with
life
in
him
,
that
tottered
on
his
path
so
nervously
,
yet
tottered
,
and
did
not
fall
!
One
of
his
clerical
brethren
--
it
was
the
venerable
John
Wilson
--
observing
the
state
in
which
Mr.
Dimmesdale
was
left
by
the
retiring
wave
of
intellect
and
sensibility
,
stepped
forward
hastily
to
offer
his
support
.
The
minister
tremulously
,
but
decidedly
,
repelled
the
old
man
's
arm
.
He
still
walked
onward
,
if
that
movement
could
be
so
described
,
which
rather
resembled
the
wavering
effort
of
an
infant
,
with
its
mother
's
arms
in
view
,
outstretched
to
tempt
him
forward
.
And
now
,
almost
imperceptible
as
were
the
latter
steps
of
his
progress
,
he
had
come
opposite
the
well-remembered
and
weather-darkened
scaffold
,
where
,
long
since
,
with
all
that
dreary
lapse
of
time
between
,
Hester
Prynne
had
encountered
the
world
's
ignominious
stare
.
There
stood
Hester
,
holding
little
Pearl
by
the
hand
!
And
there
was
the
scarlet
letter
on
her
breast
!
The
minister
here
made
a
pause
;
although
the
music
still
played
the
stately
and
rejoicing
march
to
which
the
procession
moved
.
It
summoned
him
onward
--
inward
to
the
festival
!
--
but
here
he
made
a
pause
.
Bellingham
,
for
the
last
few
moments
,
had
kept
an
anxious
eye
upon
him
.
He
now
left
his
own
place
in
the
procession
,
and
advanced
to
give
assistance
judging
,
from
Mr.
Dimmesdale
's
aspect
that
he
must
otherwise
inevitably
fall
.
But
there
was
something
in
the
latter
's
expression
that
warned
back
the
magistrate
,
although
a
man
not
readily
obeying
the
vague
intimations
that
pass
from
one
spirit
to
another
.
The
crowd
,
meanwhile
,
looked
on
with
awe
and
wonder
.
This
earthly
faintness
,
was
,
in
their
view
,
only
another
phase
of
the
minister
's
celestial
strength
;
nor
would
it
have
seemed
a
miracle
too
high
to
be
wrought
for
one
so
holy
,
had
he
ascended
before
their
eyes
,
waxing
dimmer
and
brighter
,
and
fading
at
last
into
the
light
of
heaven
!
He
turned
towards
the
scaffold
,
and
stretched
forth
his
arms
.
"
Hester
,
"
said
he
,
"
come
hither
!
Come
,
my
little
Pearl
!
"
It
was
a
ghastly
look
with
which
he
regarded
them
;
but
there
was
something
at
once
tender
and
strangely
triumphant
in
it
.
The
child
,
with
the
bird-like
motion
,
which
was
one
of
her
characteristics
,
flew
to
him
,
and
clasped
her
arms
about
his
knees
.
Hester
Prynne
--
slowly
,
as
if
impelled
by
inevitable
fate
,
and
against
her
strongest
will
--
likewise
drew
near
,
but
paused
before
she
reached
him
.
At
this
instant
old
Roger
Chillingworth
thrust
himself
through
the
crowd
--
or
,
perhaps
,
so
dark
,
disturbed
,
and
evil
was
his
look
,
he
rose
up
out
of
some
nether
region
--
to
snatch
back
his
victim
from
what
he
sought
to
do
!
Be
that
as
it
might
,
the
old
man
rushed
forward
,
and
caught
the
minister
by
the
arm
.
