The Scarlet Stigma Part 10

_Roger._ That is the chief element of the charm--don't forget it.

Having done this on nine successive days--dost thou follow me?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir.

_Roger._ On the tenth go to the barber's and have thy hair cut short.

_Diggory._ But, sir, my hair is my best feature!

_Roger._ It is with many; cut it, however, or lose the worth of all of the charm. Dost thou hear, Diggory? Cut thy hair short or never win fair woman. Farewell.

_Diggory._ I thank you, sir. [_Going_] "Lady love, ting-a-ling"--nay, that's not it.

_Roger._ Diggory!

_Diggory._ Yes, sir.

_Roger._ Who are with the Governor?

_Diggory._ The worthy ministers, Master Wilson and Master Dimsdell.

_Roger._ Very well. [_Exit Diggory, trying to recall the verse._ Ah! Diggory, thou art but a dram of love in a fluid ounce of fool! And so may we label all mankind. For instance: the Governor is a wise man and a politic; Wilson a good man and a pious; Dimsdell--ah!

there I pause, for what fine formula can sum the qualities of that same Arthur Dimsdell? He's not a fool; nor mad; nor truly cataleptic--yet he's moody, falls in trance, and I suspect his power as a preacher comes from ecstasy. Something he is akin to genius--yet he hath it not, for though his aim be true enough, he often flashes in the pan when genius would have hit the mark. I'll write his case in Latin! What a study that would be if I could first find out the reason why he clutches at his breast!--If once I find him in a trance, alone--ah! here they come.

_Enter GOVERNOR BELLINGHAM, REV. JOHN WILSON, REV. ARTHUR DIMSDELL, and following them, with a tray of wine, DIGGORY._

_Wilson._ Good morrow, Doctor.

_Roger._ Good morning, gentlemen.

_Governor._ [_To Diggory._] Leave the wine within the summer house.

Good morning, Doctor. When Mistress Prynne doth come conduct her hither.

_Diggory._ Sir, she's coming this way now.

_Governor._ Very well. Go. [_Exit Diggory._] Doctor, we debate what disposition should be made of Hester Prynne's young child. We ask your aid--but here she is.

_Enter HESTER PRYNNE._

_Hester._ Your wors.h.i.+p hath been pleased to summon me To bring my child before you.

_Governor._ Where is the child?

_Hester._ The babe is sick but answers by attorney.

What is your will?

_Governor._ Some pious matrons, Hester, Have charged that thou art not a person fit To rear that infant immortality, And guide it unto G.o.d.

_Hester._ G.o.d gave the child In rich exchange for all things else which I, Poor sinful I, had forfeited; and now You, who have made yourselves the flails of G.o.d, Would separate the wheat from chaff before The grain is ripe, and take her from me.

Oh! ye are wise! No doubt ye see beyond The purpose of Almighty G.o.d who gave The child to me!

_Governor._ Nay, take it not to heart, For, Hester, duty to the child we owe To put its soul upon the way that leads To Heaven. She will be cared for tenderly.

_Hester._ She is the last small link that binds my soul To earth, the tiny needle that doth point My way to Heaven. You shall not take her from me!

Speak thou for me [_To Dimsdell_]; as my pastor speak; Speak now; and say if any harm from me Will hurt the child. I will not part with her!

Say if thou canst, for thou hast sympathies Which these men lack, say what the mother's rights Are in her child; and what those rights must be When naught beside the child is left to her-- Her husband gone, her friends deserted, No reputation, no sympathy, no love-- But only those twin brands of shame, her baby And The Scarlet Letter!

_Dimsdell._ I have a dual duty to discharge; I am this woman's pastor--and her friend, And therefore she hath called me to defend her; I am, beside, a member of your council, And hence am with you in your consultation; And yet, I think, these duties may be made To yoke and draw me to a just conclusion.

_Wilson._ Thou also hast a duty to the child.

_Dimsdell._ Aye, so I have. Our aim is well enough, But let us pause before we do adopt A means that varies from the one marked out By G.o.d and Nature.

_Governor._ Is there not command To teach our children in the fear of G.o.d And guide them from impurity?

_Dimsdell._ G.o.d gave us mothers when He gave us life, And to their tender care He did entrust The mortal and immortal parts of us.

What then? Would we improve upon His system; Would we now deprive this little one Of that fond mother-care which nurtures her?

Or would we put, in place of mother-love, The cold, hard, formal training of a paid Instructor?

_Governor._ But is this woman, stained with sin, A mother to entrust a child to?

_Dimsdell._ That question G.o.d hath answered; and we know The stain of sin doth fade beneath the bleach Of true repentance; through it all appears The woven figure of the woman-fabric-- Her motherhood!

We owe our lives to woman's suffering, We owe our health unto her temperance, We owe her all the best of us. Let G.o.d Condemn her sin, but let us not presume To punish her where He hath healed her heart.

_Wilson._ There is weight in what he says.

_Roger._ Yea, and earnestness!

_Governor._ Well, Hester, go thy way; the child is thine.

Remember thou dost owe a gentle thanks Unto this pious man. Go, Hester, keep The child. Think well upon his words; be thou A mother in all righteousness, as well As in thy sin. Farewell.

_Hester._ I thank you, gentlemen. [_Exit._

_Wilson._ That woman would have been a n.o.ble wife Had not some villain robbed her of her dower.

_Governor._ Come, gentlemen, this business well is ended, And, Dimsdell, yours is all the credit of it; For one I thank you.

_Roger._ We all do thank you, sir.

_Governor._ Come, let us drain a cup of wine; and then Go in.

_Dimsdell._ I beg you to excuse me.

_Roger._ And me, I pray. I'll stay with Dimsdell.

_Governor._ Well, Wilson, you Shall not escape me. Gentlemen, the wine We leave you; keep it company.--And, Dimsdell, Forget it not, to-morrow thou must preach A grand election sermon. The people do Expect a master effort, man. Fail not. [_Exeunt Governor and Wilson._

_Roger._ He will not fail them, Governor; a tongue Of flame is his. What ails thee, Dimsdell?

How now? Why man!