Chapter 20 Sixteen, a walk in the woods

Whatever the sufferings of the present, or the consequences of the future, Hester Prynne remained unwavering in her determination to let Mr. Dimmesdale know the true character of the man with whom he lurked and was intimately connected.She knew he had a habit of thinking while walking along the shore of the peninsula or in the neighboring country hills, but for several days she did not find an opportunity to talk to him during these walks.Had she called on him in his study, she could have done so without arousing censure, or endangering the clergyman's sanctity, for it had been visited by penitents before that, and the sins they had confessed might have been the same. The crime represented by the scarlet letter is as serious.But first, she was afraid of old Roger Chillingworth interfering secretly or openly; Need to breathe fresh air in the vast world.It was for these reasons that it never occurred to Hester Prynne to meet him in a confined recess, rather than in broad daylight.

Later, she once went to minister to a sick family. The family had asked the Reverend Dimmesdale to pray, so she learned that the Reverend had left the day before to visit the apostle A. Liot went.He might not be back until sometime next afternoon. So, on the morrow, Hester set off with little Pearl.Whether it is convenient or not for her mother to go out with her, little Pearl must be her mother's indispensable companion. After the two travelers crossed the peninsula and came to the mainland, there was only one trail to follow. The path twists and turns and stretches into the mysterious virgin forest.The trail is tightly clamped by the trees, with lush trees on both sides, covering the sky and the sun, only revealing a small piece of sky above.For Hester, this scene is exactly the image of the spiritual wasteland in which she wandered for a long time.It was cold and gloomy that day.There is a large gray cloud above the head, and the breeze blows and gently shakes the cloud; in this way, from time to time, you can see a line of twinkling sunlight, jumping alone on the trail.This fleeting gaiety often comes at the end of a long forest path through the forest.The teasing sunlight--weak at best, under the overcast weather and scene--disappeared as they approached, and made the places where it leaped seem still darker, as they I had hoped that those places would be brighter.

"Mother," said little Pearl, "the sunshine does not like you. It ran away and hid, for it was afraid of that thing that was on your breast. And now, lo and behold! It is playing far away. Here you stand , let me run and catch it. I'm but a child. It won't run away from me. Because I don't have anything on my chest yet! " "My child, I hope you never wear it," said Hester. "But why not, mother?" asked Pearl, who had just started to run, but stopped immediately. "Will it come naturally to me when I grow into a woman?" "Run, child," said the mother, "and catch your sunshine! It will be gone soon."

Pearl ran away quickly, and Hester watched behind her with a smile on her face. Pearl really caught the sunshine, and stood in it laughing, her whole body was bright and golden, and flashed the excitement caused by her haste. Lively atmosphere.The light lingered around the lonely child, as if it liked to play with such a companion, and did not leave until the child's mother was about to step into this magic circle. "It is going now," said Pearl, shaking her head. "Look!" returned Hester, with a slight smile, "now I can reach out and catch the sun." But as soon as she stretched out her hand to catch it, it vanished; or, judging by the gaiety and radiance of Pearl's face, her mother might have thought, perhaps the child had absorbed it into her body. , and when they walk into a darker place, they will radiate out to illuminate the path ahead.No quality in Pearl's nature made a greater impression on her mother, an impression that felt fresh and alive, than her inexhaustible vigor of spirit.Pearl did not suffer from the melancholy which nearly all children of that time inherited from their ancestral troubles, along with the tuberculosis.Perhaps this excess of energy was also a disease, but a reflection of the wild, uninhibited disposition with which Hester had stifled her melancholy before Pearl's birth.It is an unbelievably magical power that imparts a sonorous quality to a child's character, and she needs a melancholy that touches her heart, makes her more human, more compassionate -- some people need it all their lives. they.Happily little Pearl had time enough to develop these affections!

"Come here, my child!" said Hester, looking round from where Pearl had stood still in the sun just now. "Let's sit down in the woods ahead and have a rest." "I am not tired, Mother," answered the daughter, "but if you will tell me a story, I will sit down." "Tell a story, child!" said Hester. "What story?" "Oh, just the story of the black man," replied Pearl, looking up, half earnestly, half mischievously, into her mother's face, holding on to her mother's skirt. "Tell how he haunted the woods, and had a book with him--a big, thick booklet with iron hoops; tell how this dark, ugly man came across in the woods Every one of them took out his book and stylus, and told them to write their names in their own words, and put a mark on their breasts! Mother, have you ever met this black man before?"

"Who told you this story, Pearl?" answered the mother, knowing that it was one of the most widespread superstitions of the time. "It's the old woman in the house you watched last night, who told it in the corner of the stove," said the boy. "But when she told the story, she thought I was asleep. She said that thousands of people met him here, and wrote his name in his book, and left his body. The mark. That bad-tempered old woman, old woman Hibbins is one. Mother, that old woman said the scarlet letter was the mark that the black man put on you, and when you met him here in the dark woods here in the middle of the night, the scarlet letter would Shines like a red flame, is it true, mother? Did you go to meet him at night?"

"Did you ever wake up at night and find your mother not there?" asked Hester. "I don't remember ever being there," said the child. "If you're afraid to leave me in our cabin, you can take me with you. I'm glad to go! But tell me, mother, is there such a black man? Have you ever seen him? The scarlet letter Is it his mark?" "If I tell you, will you be quiet for a while?" her mother asked. "Yes, if you tell me all," replied Pearl. "I've only seen that black man once in my life!" said her mother, "and this scarlet letter is his mark!" And thus the mother and daughter walked, talking, into the depths of the forest, where any small forest that happened to pass Passers-by on the road will not see them.They now sat down on a pile of lush moss.More than a hundred years ago, a huge pine tree once grew in this place, with a towering crown, and its roots and trunk were hidden in the thick shade.The place where they sat was a small valley, the gentle slopes on both sides were covered with leaves, and a small stream ran in the middle, and a layer of fallen leaves was deposited on the bottom of the stream.The big branches of the big trees hanging over the stream have fallen down for many years, blocking the stream, forming eddies and black pools in some places; while in the fast-moving and smooth section of the stream, the stones and brown shiny at the bottom of the stream The sand is clearly visible.They looked along the channel of the brook. Not far away in the forest, they could see the sparkling reflections in the brook water, but they soon disappeared in a piece of tree trunks and bushes, and from time to time, patches of water appeared on the surface of the river. Boulders covered with gray lichen.

These large trees and smooth granite boulders seem to have deliberately cast a layer of mystery over the brook, perhaps out of fear that its chattering stream would whisper the inner secrets of the ancient forest; The smooth surface of the time will reflect its secrets.Indeed, the brook murmured all the time as it went on, a sound that was kind, calm, comforting, and somewhat melancholy, like a child that has not played in its infancy and does not know the How to find joy in the environment and the dark situation. "Oh, brook! stupid and annoying brook!" said Pearl, after listening to the running water for a while, "Why are you so melancholy?"Brace yourself, don't keep moaning like this! "

But the brook that had flowed its short life in the woods had passed through such a solemn journey that it could not refrain from talking of its own experience, and seemed to have nothing else to say.Pearl was like the stream, and her life flowed from a fountain no less mysterious, and flowed through the same dark landscape of heavy shadows.However, she was different from the brook, she was joyful and cheerful, talking and laughing along the way. "What does this sad brook say, mother?" she asked. "If you had your own sorrows, the brook would tell you of its sorrows!" replied the mother, "even as if it were telling me of mine! But now, Pearl, I hear There are footsteps on the path in the woods, and the snapping of branches. I want you to play by yourself for a while, and let me talk to the man who is coming over there."

"Is it the black man?" asked Pearl. "Son, can you go and play?" the mother said again. "But don't go too far in the woods. Pay attention, and I'll come back when I call you." "Yes, mother," replied Pearl. "But if he's the nigger, you'll just let me stay for a while and catch a look at him and the big book under his arm, won't you?" "Go, silly boy!" said the mother, looking a little impatient. "He's not a black man! You can see him now through the trees.He is that pastor! " "So it was him!" said the child. "Mother, his hands are on his chest! Did the black man put a mark on the pastor's chest after he wrote his name in that big book? But why doesn't he put the mark on the outside of his chest like you what, mother?"

"Go, boy, and haunt me again as you please," cried Hester Prynne. "Don't go too far, stay where you can hear the stream." The child sang and left, walking along the brook. She wanted to mix the brisk singing into the melancholy sound of running water in the brook.But the brook was not soothed by this, and continued to whine the sad stories that had happened in this gloomy wood, or the lamentable stories that were prophesied to happen, and poured out mysterious secrets.So Pearl, who had cast too many shadows in her own little life, paid no attention to the whining brook.She turned to pick violets and white-headed arrowheads, and found bright red columbine in a crevice of a large rock. After her elf-child had gone away, Hester Prynne took a few steps up the path which led into the forest, but remained in the heavy shadow of the trees.She saw the priest coming along the path alone, leaning on a cane made from a branch hewn by the roadside.He looked haggard and frail, with a distraught despondency which he had never shown so clearly in his walks in the neighborhood or in other places where he thought he might be more conspicuous.But in the depths of this isolated forest, in an environment where the forest itself is a severe test for the spirit, his dejected expression is obvious and frightening.He limped along, listlessly, as if he could see no reason for his forward movement, nor did he have any desire to do so.If there was anything else that could please him, it was that he was more than happy to fall under a nearby tree and lie there motionless for a long time, while the leaves fell on him and the soil gradually faded away. Pile up, forming a small mound around his body, whether there is life in his body or not.Death is a given goal, unasked and unavoidable. It seemed to Hester that the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, except that he was always putting his hand over his heart, as little Pearl said, showed no other symptom of his affliction as a chronic ailment.