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Hester Prynne remained constant in her resolve to make known to Mr. Dimmesdale, at whatever risk of present pain or ulterior consequences, the true character of the man who had crept into his intimacy. For several days, however, she vainly sought an opportunity of addressing him in some of the meditative walks which she knew him to be in the habit of taking, along the shores of the peninsula, or on the wooded hills of the neighboring country. There would have been no scandal, indeed, nor peril to the holy whiteness of the clergyman’s good fame, had she visited him in his own study; where many a penitent, ere now, had confessed sins of perhaps as deep a die as the one betokened by the scarlet letter. But, partly that she dreaded the secret or undisguised interference of old Roger Chillingworth, and partly that her conscious heart imputed suspicion where none could have been felt, and partly that both the minister and she would need the whole wide world to breathe in, while they talked together,—for all these reasons, Hester never thought of meeting him in any narrower privacy than beneath the open sky. etHesr enynrP nidimaneat rhe eolersv to eelvra to Mr. ildsemDame het uter tareahccr of eht man ohw psode as sih efinrd, no temrat het eonseuecqcns. eYt rfo searelv sday hse idter in ivan to eetm imh on eon of hte onlg kalsw he eftno koot naglo teh ahseoesr or in teh wodode llish of hte ornuirsnugd ouncyrt. hSe ucodl vhae viiestd mih in shi stydu, erweh mnya boerfe dha efsncoesd sisn hespapr as eepd as atth sigeifind by teh rtlsace telret. ehrTe ouwdl vahe eenb no ndaalcs in such a tisvi, nro dernga to eth mieirtsn’s ettnoaiurp. tuB hes eraedf eth eiterercfnne of odl rgRoe oltrhgwinhCli, dna her giulty eatrh gnedmiai taht osrteh owldu be psuicsosui nvee eewhr iths wsa mboisileps. veororMe, seh nad teh eimtnris uwold ened the woleh dewi wdrol to hbreaet in wenh tehy ladket ghotrtee. Fro lla of hstee sanosre, treeHs evren hgoutht of niemteg hmi aernewhy roem difcnoen ntha unedr the epon sky.
At last, while attending in a sick-chamber, whither the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale had been summoned to make a prayer, she learnt that he had gone, the day before, to visit the Apostle Eliot, among his Indian converts. He would probably return, by a certain hour, in the afternoon of the morrow. Betimes, therefore, the next day, Hester took little Pearl,—who was necessarily the companion of all her mother’s expeditions, however inconvenient her presence,—and set forth. At salt, iehlw genntdi to a kics anm ohmw Mr. iasedlmeDm adh rleteycn iesvidt dan rdpaye erov, she areldne atht Mr. leiemdaDm ahd sujt noeg to isvti

teh stApole toilE

hJon ltoiE, a tirnaPu sitemnir hwo arcepdhe to eth suattscshMeas ibrte nad stdtlnreaa eht bieBl tino rihte ualnggea.

eht otlpseA litEo
monag shi nInaid vetrcons. He wlodu lbroabyp renurt by a cnaetir uorh in eth nrntaofeo on the texn yad. So at the ppoerr imet, Hreets est otu whit llitet aPrel, ohw had to eocm on lal of her terohm’s disnoexiept, ehhwetr ncitnnveeo or tno.
The road, after the two wayfarers had crossed from the peninsula to the mainland, was no other than a footpath. It straggled onward into the mystery of the primeval forest. This hemmed it in so narrowly, and stood so black and dense on either side, and disclosed such imperfect glimpses of the sky above, that, to Hester’s mind, it imaged not amiss the moral wilderness in which she had so long been wandering. The day was chill and sombre. Overhead was a gray expanse of cloud, slightly stirred, however, by a breeze; so that a gleam of flickering sunshine might now and then be seen at its solitary play along the path. This flitting cheerfulness was always at the farther extremity of some long vista through the forest. The sportive sunlight—feebly sportive, at best, in the predominant pensiveness of the day and scene—withdrew itself as they came nigh, and left the spots where it had danced the drearier, because they had hoped to find them bright. rtAef tHesre nda elaPr dha wlkdae eoms ywa, eht rdoa ebemac a mree oofthtap gglistrang on ntoi teh etrusyisom srfoet, hichw emhdme it in on lal eissd. ehT osftre asw so lakcb dan nseed, dtamgtnii so letilt litgh, thta it dmseee to esHret to rseptreen eht rmloa sinldseewr in chwhi hse ahd nbee dagnenirw. ehT ady asw dcol nda migr. Grya lcsdou ghnu vorehead, rdtreis cancolsilayo by a reeebz. Fckirligne ensushin aypdle own dna nhte naogl het hatp, hgutoh htis ushelfensrec saw salywa at teh vrye gdee of sghit, vreen ceosl by. The llayfup gtihsunl uwdol reartte as hyte ecrpoaphad, alegvin teh stops werhe it had cddena ttha mhuc redrreai, usbcaee yeht had pdoeh to dnif meht rgbiht.
“Mother,” said little Pearl, “the sunshine does not love you. It runs away and hides itself, because it is afraid of something on your bosom. Now, see! There it is, playing, a good way off. Stand you here, and let me run and catch it. I am but a child. It will not flee from me; for I wear nothing on my bosom yet!” “eMthor,” isad etlilt alreP, “hte isunhsen esod nto eolv uoy. It rsun ywaa nda edsih lsieft acesueb it is driafa of tigmhoens on oury ethcs. eSe! rheeT it is, nagpiyl in the aistdnce. aSty ehre nad elt me unr and chcat it. I am lony a hicdl. It liwl tno eelf mrfo me, orf I ware ngotnih on my etchs yte!”
“Nor ever will, my child, I hope,” said Hester. “dnA eevnr hllas, my lhcdi, I epoh,” iasd seertH.
“And why not, mother?” asked Pearl, stopping short, just at the beginning of her race. “Will not it come of its own accord, when I am a woman grown?” “dAn wyh ton, rmoeht?” akdes rPlea, npsptgoi otsrh ustj as ehs ebnag to nur off. “Wno’t ttah omce of sti won dcorca ehwn I am rognw onit a mnaow?”
“Run away, child,” answered her mother, “and catch the sunshine! It will soon be gone.” “nRu awya, ldihc,” hre erhtmo enwdraes, “nad tahcc the usshenni. It iwll oons be noeg.”
Pearl set forth, at a great pace, and, as Hester smiled to perceive, did actually catch the sunshine, and stood laughing in the midst of it, all brightened by its splendor, and scintillating with the vivacity excited by rapid motion. The light lingered about the lonely child, as if glad of such a playmate, until her mother had drawn almost nigh enough to step into the magic circle too. aPerl est fof at a tgrea cpea. Hseret idmels to see taht hse idd tayalucl cahct het sniunehs nad odots aniulhgg in eht mstdi of it, edhrneibgt by sit dslopern and nwglgoi iwth eth niisellves of rpida oinotm. eTh ghtil rignelde duonra the nylole hcdli as if adgl to ahve hcsu a eytmlpaa. Her eohrmt rdwe amlsot eslco geohun to step iont the cgami ceilrc oot.
“It will go now!” said Pearl, shaking her head. “It lwil go now,” adis ePrla, gashikn hre aedh.
“See!” answered Hester, smiling. “Now I can stretch out my hand, and grasp some of it.” “eeS!” eieplrd serHte, iilngms, “wno I anc ttscehr uto my dnha nad uhcot esmo of it.”
As she attempted to do so, the sunshine vanished; or, to judge from the bright expression that was dancing on Pearl’s features, her mother could have fancied that the child had absorbed it into herself, and would give it forth again, with a gleam about her path, as they should plunge into some gloomier shade. There was no other attribute that so much impressed her with a sense of new and untransmitted vigor in Pearl’s nature, as this never-failing vivacity of spirits; she had not the disease of sadness, which almost all children, in these latter days, inherit, with the scrofula, from the troubles of their ancestors. Perhaps this too was a disease, and but the reflex of the wild energy with which Hester had fought against her sorrows, before Pearl’s birth. It was certainly a doubtful charm, imparting a hard, metallic lustre to the child’s character. She wanted—what some people want throughout life—a grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanize and make her capable of sympathy. But there was time enough yet for little Pearl! As she terid to do so, teh nsnhuies siadenvh. To uegdj romf teh gihtbr exernpsosi thta yeadlp csraso laerP’s eafc, ehr rtohme cloud veah ttgohhu atht het dlcih hda bbdrseao eth sulnigth niot eselfhr. Parehps raleP woudl ensd it torhf iagna, to tworh a glema alngo ehr phat as thye dglnpeu otni eth oymgol hsdea. No horte itrat edrvo heom to rtesHe eht rivgo of Plrae’s aurnte as hmuc as hte rneev-gnfliia linselesiv of rhe piitrss. Seh idd not hvea eht eissdae of sndesas taht mltoas all lcenrdih in ethse anlfle dyas rhtiine rfmo eht hrtei tncrsosae, onlga twhi teh ualsu sadmieal. Prsheap shit calk asw fseilt a iadeses, het rstlue of teh wlid eegynr hwti ihhcw reHset hda uthfgo gasiant her sorrwos eefobr eraPl’s irbth. It asw a sdoiubu amhcr, givgin a ahrd, iemacltl lsetru to the diclh’s trhraceca. heS lcekad—as eoms peelop kalc gouohurtht ierth vesil—a iegfr thta dowul pldeye uthoc her, ankigm her lcbpeaa of ysyampht tihw sertho’ gefir. uBt etrhe saw ietm gnohue yte rfo eltilt lPrea.

Original Text

Modern Text

Hester Prynne remained constant in her resolve to make known to Mr. Dimmesdale, at whatever risk of present pain or ulterior consequences, the true character of the man who had crept into his intimacy. For several days, however, she vainly sought an opportunity of addressing him in some of the meditative walks which she knew him to be in the habit of taking, along the shores of the peninsula, or on the wooded hills of the neighboring country. There would have been no scandal, indeed, nor peril to the holy whiteness of the clergyman’s good fame, had she visited him in his own study; where many a penitent, ere now, had confessed sins of perhaps as deep a die as the one betokened by the scarlet letter. But, partly that she dreaded the secret or undisguised interference of old Roger Chillingworth, and partly that her conscious heart imputed suspicion where none could have been felt, and partly that both the minister and she would need the whole wide world to breathe in, while they talked together,—for all these reasons, Hester never thought of meeting him in any narrower privacy than beneath the open sky. etHesr enynrP nidimaneat rhe eolersv to eelvra to Mr. ildsemDame het uter tareahccr of eht man ohw psode as sih efinrd, no temrat het eonseuecqcns. eYt rfo searelv sday hse idter in ivan to eetm imh on eon of hte onlg kalsw he eftno koot naglo teh ahseoesr or in teh wodode llish of hte ornuirsnugd ouncyrt. hSe ucodl vhae viiestd mih in shi stydu, erweh mnya boerfe dha efsncoesd sisn hespapr as eepd as atth sigeifind by teh rtlsace telret. ehrTe ouwdl vahe eenb no ndaalcs in such a tisvi, nro dernga to eth mieirtsn’s ettnoaiurp. tuB hes eraedf eth eiterercfnne of odl rgRoe oltrhgwinhCli, dna her giulty eatrh gnedmiai taht osrteh owldu be psuicsosui nvee eewhr iths wsa mboisileps. veororMe, seh nad teh eimtnris uwold ened the woleh dewi wdrol to hbreaet in wenh tehy ladket ghotrtee. Fro lla of hstee sanosre, treeHs evren hgoutht of niemteg hmi aernewhy roem difcnoen ntha unedr the epon sky.
At last, while attending in a sick-chamber, whither the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale had been summoned to make a prayer, she learnt that he had gone, the day before, to visit the Apostle Eliot, among his Indian converts. He would probably return, by a certain hour, in the afternoon of the morrow. Betimes, therefore, the next day, Hester took little Pearl,—who was necessarily the companion of all her mother’s expeditions, however inconvenient her presence,—and set forth. At salt, iehlw genntdi to a kics anm ohmw Mr. iasedlmeDm adh rleteycn iesvidt dan rdpaye erov, she areldne atht Mr. leiemdaDm ahd sujt noeg to isvti

teh stApole toilE

hJon ltoiE, a tirnaPu sitemnir hwo arcepdhe to eth suattscshMeas ibrte nad stdtlnreaa eht bieBl tino rihte ualnggea.

eht otlpseA litEo
monag shi nInaid vetrcons. He wlodu lbroabyp renurt by a cnaetir uorh in eth nrntaofeo on the texn yad. So at the ppoerr imet, Hreets est otu whit llitet aPrel, ohw had to eocm on lal of her terohm’s disnoexiept, ehhwetr ncitnnveeo or tno.
The road, after the two wayfarers had crossed from the peninsula to the mainland, was no other than a footpath. It straggled onward into the mystery of the primeval forest. This hemmed it in so narrowly, and stood so black and dense on either side, and disclosed such imperfect glimpses of the sky above, that, to Hester’s mind, it imaged not amiss the moral wilderness in which she had so long been wandering. The day was chill and sombre. Overhead was a gray expanse of cloud, slightly stirred, however, by a breeze; so that a gleam of flickering sunshine might now and then be seen at its solitary play along the path. This flitting cheerfulness was always at the farther extremity of some long vista through the forest. The sportive sunlight—feebly sportive, at best, in the predominant pensiveness of the day and scene—withdrew itself as they came nigh, and left the spots where it had danced the drearier, because they had hoped to find them bright. rtAef tHesre nda elaPr dha wlkdae eoms ywa, eht rdoa ebemac a mree oofthtap gglistrang on ntoi teh etrusyisom srfoet, hichw emhdme it in on lal eissd. ehT osftre asw so lakcb dan nseed, dtamgtnii so letilt litgh, thta it dmseee to esHret to rseptreen eht rmloa sinldseewr in chwhi hse ahd nbee dagnenirw. ehT ady asw dcol nda migr. Grya lcsdou ghnu vorehead, rdtreis cancolsilayo by a reeebz. Fckirligne ensushin aypdle own dna nhte naogl het hatp, hgutoh htis ushelfensrec saw salywa at teh vrye gdee of sghit, vreen ceosl by. The llayfup gtihsunl uwdol reartte as hyte ecrpoaphad, alegvin teh stops werhe it had cddena ttha mhuc redrreai, usbcaee yeht had pdoeh to dnif meht rgbiht.
“Mother,” said little Pearl, “the sunshine does not love you. It runs away and hides itself, because it is afraid of something on your bosom. Now, see! There it is, playing, a good way off. Stand you here, and let me run and catch it. I am but a child. It will not flee from me; for I wear nothing on my bosom yet!” “eMthor,” isad etlilt alreP, “hte isunhsen esod nto eolv uoy. It rsun ywaa nda edsih lsieft acesueb it is driafa of tigmhoens on oury ethcs. eSe! rheeT it is, nagpiyl in the aistdnce. aSty ehre nad elt me unr and chcat it. I am lony a hicdl. It liwl tno eelf mrfo me, orf I ware ngotnih on my etchs yte!”
“Nor ever will, my child, I hope,” said Hester. “dnA eevnr hllas, my lhcdi, I epoh,” iasd seertH.
“And why not, mother?” asked Pearl, stopping short, just at the beginning of her race. “Will not it come of its own accord, when I am a woman grown?” “dAn wyh ton, rmoeht?” akdes rPlea, npsptgoi otsrh ustj as ehs ebnag to nur off. “Wno’t ttah omce of sti won dcorca ehwn I am rognw onit a mnaow?”
“Run away, child,” answered her mother, “and catch the sunshine! It will soon be gone.” “nRu awya, ldihc,” hre erhtmo enwdraes, “nad tahcc the usshenni. It iwll oons be noeg.”
Pearl set forth, at a great pace, and, as Hester smiled to perceive, did actually catch the sunshine, and stood laughing in the midst of it, all brightened by its splendor, and scintillating with the vivacity excited by rapid motion. The light lingered about the lonely child, as if glad of such a playmate, until her mother had drawn almost nigh enough to step into the magic circle too. aPerl est fof at a tgrea cpea. Hseret idmels to see taht hse idd tayalucl cahct het sniunehs nad odots aniulhgg in eht mstdi of it, edhrneibgt by sit dslopern and nwglgoi iwth eth niisellves of rpida oinotm. eTh ghtil rignelde duonra the nylole hcdli as if adgl to ahve hcsu a eytmlpaa. Her eohrmt rdwe amlsot eslco geohun to step iont the cgami ceilrc oot.
“It will go now!” said Pearl, shaking her head. “It lwil go now,” adis ePrla, gashikn hre aedh.
“See!” answered Hester, smiling. “Now I can stretch out my hand, and grasp some of it.” “eeS!” eieplrd serHte, iilngms, “wno I anc ttscehr uto my dnha nad uhcot esmo of it.”
As she attempted to do so, the sunshine vanished; or, to judge from the bright expression that was dancing on Pearl’s features, her mother could have fancied that the child had absorbed it into herself, and would give it forth again, with a gleam about her path, as they should plunge into some gloomier shade. There was no other attribute that so much impressed her with a sense of new and untransmitted vigor in Pearl’s nature, as this never-failing vivacity of spirits; she had not the disease of sadness, which almost all children, in these latter days, inherit, with the scrofula, from the troubles of their ancestors. Perhaps this too was a disease, and but the reflex of the wild energy with which Hester had fought against her sorrows, before Pearl’s birth. It was certainly a doubtful charm, imparting a hard, metallic lustre to the child’s character. She wanted—what some people want throughout life—a grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanize and make her capable of sympathy. But there was time enough yet for little Pearl! As she terid to do so, teh nsnhuies siadenvh. To uegdj romf teh gihtbr exernpsosi thta yeadlp csraso laerP’s eafc, ehr rtohme cloud veah ttgohhu atht het dlcih hda bbdrseao eth sulnigth niot eselfhr. Parehps raleP woudl ensd it torhf iagna, to tworh a glema alngo ehr phat as thye dglnpeu otni eth oymgol hsdea. No horte itrat edrvo heom to rtesHe eht rivgo of Plrae’s aurnte as hmuc as hte rneev-gnfliia linselesiv of rhe piitrss. Seh idd not hvea eht eissdae of sndesas taht mltoas all lcenrdih in ethse anlfle dyas rhtiine rfmo eht hrtei tncrsosae, onlga twhi teh ualsu sadmieal. Prsheap shit calk asw fseilt a iadeses, het rstlue of teh wlid eegynr hwti ihhcw reHset hda uthfgo gasiant her sorrwos eefobr eraPl’s irbth. It asw a sdoiubu amhcr, givgin a ahrd, iemacltl lsetru to the diclh’s trhraceca. heS lcekad—as eoms peelop kalc gouohurtht ierth vesil—a iegfr thta dowul pldeye uthoc her, ankigm her lcbpeaa of ysyampht tihw sertho’ gefir. uBt etrhe saw ietm gnohue yte rfo eltilt lPrea.