ty, 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 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 offspring 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.

[Illustration: A touch of Pearl's baby-hand]

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 gle