_Dimsdell._ I shall be glad to know you better, Doctor.

_Roger._ And I, to see you better, sir.

_Dimsdell._ Pardon me, I must in; I'm late already.

_Exit Dimsdell--all follow except Governor Bellingham and Roger Prynne. Bell ceases._

_Governor._ How weak a hold we have on health! That man Is but the standing ruin of his former self, And yet, for beauty, comeliness and grace, He still is model to the colony.

What do you think, can care restore him yet, And give him to us as he used to be?

_Roger._ I cannot tell. I need more knowledge of him.

There are no marks of cureless malady-- A faint suggestion of overwatchfulness, That oft points out the student--nothing more.

_Hymn from church. (Tune: "_Ein' feste Burg_" or other ancient hymn used by the Puritans.)_

_Governor._ The worship hath begun; but, ere we in, A word about the wealth you left with me.

_Roger._ No more. Pray use it as your own, in trade, Or howsoe'er you choose. The largest pearl An Indian chief did give me; but sell it with The rest, and with their worth provide for Hester.

She is the widow of mine ancient friend, To whom I ever shall be much indebted, And while I would not have her know me yet As what I am--her husband's friend and hers-- As that might breed more grief in her, or wake An old one--yet I think it meet to care For her and for her child.

_Governor._ Your goodness is Your pa.s.sport, Doctor. Come, let us in.--Nay, After you; you are my guest. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_Bed room of the REV. ARTHUR DIMSDELL. Night. DIMSDELL, alone in the dark._

_Dimsdell._ O, she is beautiful!

The memory of her loveliness Pervades my waking dreams, and, pleasant theft, Deprives my sleep of dark oblivion.

And thus, while fleeing from the gentle bonds Of love, I am become the thrall of pa.s.sion, And sigh my heart away in waste desire!

Had I but truly loved her, Would not our joys, that then were innocent, Have moulded soul to soul and made mine take The form of her most dear perfections?

But, now!

No trait of Hester's n.o.ble purity Remains with guilty me, for I purloined Her precious diadem and like a rogue I cast that crown away, afraid to wear What would have been my dearest ornament.

Why can I not repent? Or is it true Repentance is denied the hypocrite?

And must it then forever be that, though I cast out sin, both root and branch, the seed Of evil, scattered long ago, will sprout And bloom carnation thoughts that dull the soul With subtle sweetness!

Oh! coward that I am!

Bound down, as to a rock, to form and place, By iron chains of worldly precedent, While my desires like eagles tear my breast, And make of me a base Prometheus.

O, G.o.d!

I married all the family of sins, When I espoused the pleasantest; I am Become a liar through my lechery, A thief of reputation through my cowardice, And--puh! the rest but follow in the train Of my dear wedded crime!

O, G.o.d! and shall this l.u.s.t burn on in me Still unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting, Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soul From its fond doting on her comeliness?

Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jump My middle age and plunge this burning heart Into the icy flood of cold decay?

None? O, wretched state of luxury!

This hot desire grows even in its death And from its ashes doth arise full fledged Renewed eternally!

_A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder, discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also shows SATAN--an archangel with bat wings--who has just entered._

Have mercy upon me, O, my G.o.d, have mercy!

According to thy gentle lovingkindness, According to the mult.i.tude of all Thy tender mercies, blot out my foul transgression.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow; Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out All mine iniquities.

_Satan._ You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omit The saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed.

_Dimsdell._ Who art thou that durst interpose between My soul and G.o.d?

_Satan._ I am the stronger part of lower nature, The worser part of all that came from Him Whom all adore. Behold me!

_Satan becomes visible by light emanating from himself._

_Dimsdell._ Thou art Satan! The Prince of h.e.l.l!

_Satan._ I am so called.

_Dimsdell._ Get thee hence! I am a minister Of G.o.d, a priest, and am anointed of the Lord To teach His children.

_Satan._ And, therefore, am I come to thee, Sir priest.

I do confess a predilection for Thy calling; conclaves, synods, convocations, Are never held without my guiding presence; They are my field days and my exercises, While in the study and the cell I take My cloistered ease. I love all priests and am The bosom friend of many who would blush To speak to me in public. Receive me, brother.

_Dimsdell._ Scorner, avaunt! Sink to the h.e.l.l from whence Thou cam'st! I do abhor thee, Satan; yea, I tell thee to thy face that I who quail Before the awful majesty of G.o.d, And cowardly do hide my sin from man, I tell thee, vile as I am, I do detest Thy very name! I do defy thee!

_Satan._ These words are very brave; if more than wind, Go to the market place tomorrow, there Proclaim thy vice; or else ascend thy pulpit And denounce thyself as what thou art, adulterer.

_Dimsdell._ Recreant to my G.o.d am I; think'st thou That I will thee obey, to whom I owe No deep allegiance?

_Satan._ Then bare thy sinful breast, for here I swear, By that dread Name which mortals cannot hear, I will upon thee print a mark, the stigma Of thy secret crime.

_Dimsdell._ Hold off! I charge thee by that other Name Of Him who rent thy kingdom, and will destroy it, Touch me not yet!

Almighty Purity, Dread Essence Increate; Behold concentrate, in this wicked form, The universal spirit of iniquity.

Come quickly in thy majesty, O Lord!

Wither him here within the awful flame Of Thy bright Holiness! Shrivel his frame Into an atom, and blow the lifeless dust Beyond the farthest star.

And, if in his destruction my soul should share Through close proximity, spare not!

Then will Thy servants serve Thee, Gracious Lord!

And mankind find its paradise!

_Satan._ That was well said!

Perhaps, Sir priest, you now will treat me to A learned disquisition on the birth Of evil? I'd like to hear it, if it tread Beyond theology's well beaten path; But, if it stumbles in the pug-mill round Of teleology, you must excuse me.

_Dimsdell._ Base siege of scorn! I curse thee!

_Satan._ Curses but belch foul wind, they pa.s.s beyond me.

But, come; I have no time to waste with thee; This visitation had not been, nor would I dignify thy carnal slip by my Incarnate presence, but for thy perfidy.

For thou hast reached a depth of moral baseness Below the meanest fiend in lowest h.e.l.l; Thou hast deserted her who sinned with thee, Gave up her virtue to express her love, Laid down her treasure to thy secret l.u.s.t, And then took up thy burden with her own.

Think not I come to draft thee of my legions, I would not have so weak, so mean a coward, To sow pale fear among them. No!

Thou wilt be d.a.m.ned outside of h.e.l.l. I come To show, as in a mirror, what thou art; Not what thou shalt be. The past and present both Are mine, the future rests with G.o.d. But now,

_Hester's image appears in a cloud dressed in white._

Behold the woman as thou first didst know her, A loveliness to tempt or saint or devil, The rare quintessence of pure womanhood!

Transparent brightness! A living crystal globe, Wherein all beauties of humanity Reflect themselves with iridescent glow!

Dost thou remember?

Behold her now the mother of thy babe,