_Dimsdell._ Thou Roger Prynne?

_Roger._ Aye, Roger Prynne and thine accuser.

_Dimsdell looks about the room as though dazed._

_Dimsdell._ Why, how is this?--But now, the Governor's garden--and now, my room!--But now, just now, old Doctor Chillingworth--and now, mine enemy, Roger Prynne! Thou art the Devil himself!--Thou shalt not trick me thus.

_Band music in distance._

_Roger._ Trick thee? Why, madman, thou hast been in trance since yester noon. Trick thee! I like the word! 'Tis now the time of day when thou shouldst preach the great Election Sermon, the one event that makes or mars you preachers. Dost hear the music? A day hath pa.s.sed since thou wast in the garden. They are marching even now to the market place.

_Dimsdell._ What shall I do? [_Aloud, but to himself._

_Roger._ Do? Stay here and settle our account; or else go on and publish thyself as what thou art--a hypocrite.

_Dimsdell._ I see it now!--Ah! Satan! Satan!--thou wouldst affright my soul and make me lose my well earned honors. Why, Roger Prynne is dead--dead. 'Twas told on good report two years ago. And now--oh!

try it if thou wilt--I'll have thee burnt, burnt--burnt at the stake, if thou accusest me! Who would believe thee? Stand aside, I say! Let me pa.s.s!

_Roger._ How came the stigma on thy breast?

_Dimsdell._ Thou knowest!--Make way, I tell thee!--Thou didst place it there!--Make way!

_They struggle. Roger interposes the chair between himself and Dimsdell. Finally, Dimsdell wrenches the chair from Roger, flings it aside, and, grappling him, chokes Roger to death._

_Dimsdell._ [_Panting_] A man! A man! A man!--Dead! dead!

dead!--Nay--like a man!--Like a dead man!--A trick!--A devilish trick!--Did he not come in angel form--and then as Doctor Chillingworth--and then as Roger Prynne--and now,--and now, as a dead body?

_Spurning Roger with his foot._

O, Devil, I'll avoid thee yet!--I'll confess my crime and thus unslip the noose about my soul!

_Hurriedly prepares to depart._

He said we'd meet again! We have, and 'tis the last time! [_Exit._

SCENE II.--_Plain curtain, down. Music. Music ceases; subdued sounds as of a mult.i.tude back of curtain. Then the voice of Dimsdell rises as quiet returns._

_Dimsdell._ And now, good friends, Electors and Elected, Although my speech hath run a lengthened course, And what I purposed hath been said in full, There's more comes to me now.

What is our purpose and our destiny?

_Curtain rises rapidly, disclosing stage set as in Act I, Scene III.

Dimsdell upon a rostrum on church steps. Militia standing at rest.

Citizens and officials in gala attire._

We call us English, Anglo-Saxon; And from the Old we come to build the New, The equal England of our expectation.

Here in the wilderness, the first small germs Of man's long-promised freedom find their soil; Here hidden will they rot a little while; Anon, the sprouts will break our troubled land, Thrust forth the first red blades, and thence grow on, Forever and forever!

I see this vast expanse of continent, That dwarfs the n.o.ble states of cultured Europe, Spread out before me like a map, from pole To pole, and from the rising to the setting sun.

I see it teem with myriads; I see Its densely peopled towns and villages; I see its ports, greater than any known, Send forth their riches to the hungry world.

I see, O blessed, wondrous sight! the strength Of Anglo-Saxondom--our mighty England And our great America, as one-- The Lion and the Eagle side by side,-- Leading the vanguard of humanity!

And more I see; I see the rise of man Merely as man!

Let the day come, O Lord, when man, without Addition to that n.o.ble t.i.tle--man-- Can stand erect before his fellow-man, Outface Oppression with his flashing eye, And stamp and grind proud Tyranny to dust.

Put in our hearts, O, Gracious G.o.d, the yeast Of freedom; let it work our natures free, Although it break to recombine again The atoms of each state.

Send down thy pulsing tongues of burning truth; Fire our souls with love of human kind; Let hate consume itself; let war thresh out The brutal part of man, and fit us for The last long period of peace.

_A pause, then cries severally._

_First Citizen._ Is he an angel or a man? Sure Gabriel himself.

_Second Citizen._ Look! He faints.

_Third Citizen._ Poor minister!

_Dimsdell._ [_Rallying himself_] I will speak on.

_Governor._ My pious friend, wear not thy body out To please our willing ears. Thou hast exceeded Thy feeble strength already. Cease, man; Demosthenes himself could not have stood The strain which thou hast undergone. Prithee,--

_Dimsdell._ I thank you; reason not my wastefulness, For, if you make me answer you, you cause More waste. My taper's burnt already.

It flickers even now, and, ere I leave This place, my light, my life will go.

Question me not, For, now I have fulfilled my public function, There hurries on a duty of a private kind I must perform at once or not at all; Too long delayed already.

My friends, my life is flowing fast away, I, that should be at full or on the turn, Am near my lowest ebb.

This gnawing at my heart hath eaten through, And now my soul releasing body bondage Will take its flight--but where?

_First Citizen._ It goes to Heaven when it flies; But go not now.

_Dimsdell._ Behold yon woman with The Scarlet Letter.

_Citizens._ Oh, shame upon her! Fie!

_Dimsdell._ Nay, shame on me; her sufferings have made Her pure, but mine, beneath this lying robe, Have eaten up my heart. Hypocrisy Lie there [_Taking off gown_]. Now, while I do descend these steps I leave my former life behind.

_Descends and goes toward pillory._

Come, Hester, come!

Come take my hand, although it be unworthy.

_Second Citizen._ Is the man mad, my masters?

_Dimsdell._ Not mad, friend, not mad; but newly sane.

Come, my victim, come; a.s.sist me up The pillory, there let us stand together-- The woman of The Scarlet Letter, And he who did this wrong.

_First Citizen._ That holy man is mad. He an adulterer!

I'll believe it when th' Devil grows blind.

_Dimsdell._ Support me, Hester.

_Dimsdell and Hester ascend pillory together._