ter 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,--onward 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.

"Madman, hold! what is your purpose?" whispered he. "Wave back tha