Hester Prynne, gazing steadfastly at the clergyman, felt a
dreary influence come over her, but wherefore or whence she knew
not, unless that he seemed so remote from her own sphere, and
utterly beyond her reach. One glance of recognition she had
imagined must needs pass between them. She thought of the dim
forest, with its little dell of solitude, and love, and anguish,
and the mossy tree-trunk, where, sitting hand-in-hand, they had
mingled their sad and passionate talk with the melancholy murmur
of the brook. How deeply had they known each other then! And was
this the man? She hardly knew him now! He, moving proudly past,
enveloped as it were, in the rich music, with the procession of
majestic and venerable fathers; he, so unattainable in his
worldly position, and still more so in that far vista of his
unsympathizing thoughts, through which she now beheld him! Her
spirit sank with the idea that all must have been a delusion,
and that, vividly as she had dreamed it, there could be no real
bond betwixt the clergyman and herself. And thus much of woman
was there in Hester, that she could scarcely forgive him--least
of all now, when the heavy footstep of their approaching Fate
might be heard, nearer, nearer, nearer!--for being able so
completely to withdraw himself from their mutual world--while
she groped darkly, and stretched forth her cold hands, and found
him not.
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