and religious fervour had already wide eminence in his profession. He
bent his head, in silent prayer, as it seemed, and then came forward.

"Hester Prynne," said he, "if thou feelest it to be for thy soul's
peace, I charge thee to speak out the name of thy fellow-sinner and
fellow-sufferer. Be not silent from any mistaken pity and tenderness for
him, for, believe me, though he were to step down from a high place, and
stand there beside thee, on thy pedestal of shame, yet better were it so
than to hide a guilty heart through life."

Hester only shook her head.

"She will not speak," murmured Mr. Dimmesdale. "Wondrous strength and
generosity of a woman's heart!"

Hester Prynne kept her place upon the pedestal of shame with an air of
weary indifference. With the same hard demeanour she was led back to
prison.

That night the child at her boson writhed in convulsions of pain, and
the jailer brought in a physician, whom he announced as Mr. Roger
Chillingworth, and who was none other than the stranger whom Hester had
noticed in the crowd.

He took the infant in his arms and administered a draught, and its moans
and convulsive tossings gradually ceased.

"Hester," said he, when the jailer had withdrawn, "I ask not wherefore
thou hast fallen into the pit. It was my folly and thy weakness. What
had I--a man of thought, the bookworm of great libraries--to do with