_b.u.t.ts._ I'll go at once.

[_Exeunt severally, b.u.t.ts up street, Ursula in tavern._

_Enter ROGER PRYNNE, travel stained._

_Roger._ We are not masters of our paths, although Our wills do seem to guide our faltering steps: Ship voyagers are we, and roam at will Within the narrow confines of the deck, But neither plot nor steer the destined course.

I may have pa.s.sed her house--I'll ask my way Here at the inn. Long live King Boniface!

What ho! some wine!

_Ursula._ [_Within_] Your patience, Captain, I'll be there anon.

_Roger._ At your leisure, hostess; I've learned to wait. [_Sits._ A bachelor at sixty, I found myself Enc.u.mbered with a ward--nay, not that-- Enriched with female loveliness and grace Bequeathed unto me by a dying friend.

Volition had no part in that, nor in My sudden recrudescency of love.

I willed our marriage; but 'twas fate bestowed The joys I long had fled. Then came our life In Amsterdam; each day so filled with bliss It overflowed into the next, and days Of joy grew into weeks and months of happiness-- Let me have wine, I say!

_Ursula._ [_Within_] Coming, sir!

_Roger._ Anon the traveling itch--was't fate or will-- Possessed my soul to see America, And money matters calling me to London, Where raged the plague, I sent my wife before me To America with Captain b.u.t.ts, then bound For Boston. Ah! well-a-day, the parting!-- I hurried up my business; fled London town; Shipped for America; was wrecked far South; Captured by Indians; escaping, wandered North Until I found the white man's colonies; And now footsore and old I've reached the place I first intended. What next, O, Fate?

_Enter URSULA._

Good morrow, hostess.

_Ursula._ Good morrow, sir. [_Surprised._

_Roger._ Look not Askance upon my way-worn clothes; there's gold To pay my reckoning. [_Throwing money down._

_Ursula._ Your pardon, sir; I marveled, sir, so fine a gentleman Should be so travel-stained. What will you have?

_Roger._ Bring me a cup of sherris-sack.

_Ursula._ [_Aside_] I knew he was a gentleman! [_Exit._

_Roger._ How will my Hester greet me? Will she know me?

She never saw me with a beard, nor in Such rags. Perhaps she thinks me dead-- If so, the shock might kill her--Let me see-- Putative widows have before my time Bought second husbands with their beauty, wealth, Or wit--and she hath all. 'Tis probable-- And when the long-supposed defunct returned, He found his amorous relict the bride Of a bright-eyed youth! What worse, ye harpy fates?

She may be dead! Oh! this is madness!

Sweet Heaven, let her live! and, if I find Her married, I'll depart unknown to her And bury in my heart's deep sepulchre My widowed grief. Bah! I'm a fool!

This weakness comes from my long wandering!

Misfortunes, though we think we conquer them, Ever pursue, hang on our rear, and give Such rankling wounds as teach our souls to dread What else may lie in wait invincible.

_Re-enter URSULA with wine._

_Ursula._ I beg your pardon, sir. I could not find the wine at first.

_Roger._ Why, how was that?

_Ursula._ I'm not the hostess, sir, she is away; I merely take her place till she comes back.

_Roger._ You fill it rarely.

_Ursula._ G.o.d bless thee, sir, I'm cook, nurse, or hostess, as people need me. Ursula Cook, Ursula Nurse, or Ursula Goodale, at your service, sir.

_Roger._ Ah, indeed, Ursula! Then I presume thou knowest many of the citizens?

_Ursula._ I know them everyone.

_Roger._ This wine is excellent. [_Drinking_] Dost know one Roger Prynne?

_Ursula._ The husband of our Hester Prynne?

_Roger._ The same. [_Aside_] Thank G.o.d, she lives.

_Ursula._ He's dead, sir, rest his soul, a more than thirty months ago.

_Roger._ Poor fellow! He was a friend of mine. Where did they bury him?

_Ursula._ His ship was wrecked, he had no burial.

_Roger._ Here's to his memory! You know his wife?

_Ursula._ Alas; I do, sweet lady!

_Roger._ And why alas? The loss of a husband is no great calamity in a colony. There can be no dearth here of husband-material, I fancy.

_Ursula._ Whence come you that you know so little of the doings here?

_Roger._ From the far South, where for two long years and more I've lived among the savages. What do you mean?

_Ursula._ I mean her trial by the magistrates.

_Roger._ Tried by magistrates? For what?

_Ursula._ Adultery.

_Roger._ Tried for adultery?

_Ursula._ Aye, sir, that she is.

_Roger._ It is a lie, a d.a.m.ned lie! Tried for adultery! A likely thing! So pure a woman! A purer creature never lived!

_Ursula._ Sir, you are her friend? You know her?

_Roger._ I am--I am her husband--her husband's friend. I knew her in Old England. Adultery! A pretty word! Who doth accuse her? d.a.m.ned detractors!

_Ursula._ Her child.

_Roger._ Her what?