《A Red Flame in the Dark: A Prequel to Scarlet Letter》 Chapter I: Autumn The winters in the New World were brutal. It would be the second one Hester Prynne saw since she had left England. As soon as the leaves started to turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow, she frowned. Summer had gone. The change was inevitable, but she wasn''t ready for it. It was almost a year since her husband had sent her ahead to Boston in the Massachusetts Bay colony to establish their home, and she had. She had set up the house, grew her own vegetables, pickled them, caught rabbits, smoked meats and fish, and sewed and embroidered clothing for money. It was hard, but it was done. She could bear everything but the winter again. Her husband hadn''t written to her in months, but news was slow to travel across the sea. He had business still in England but had bought the land in the colonies and needed her to claim it on his behalf. In truth, the months alone had invigorated Hester. She thrived doing what she wanted without the sharp critiques of her husband. She was married young to an older, wealthier man, pushed by her family so they had one less mouth to feed, a family in poverty with a decaying old coat of arms in memory of a better past. She, a young girl green to the world, was pushed to marry with no foresight for her own happiness in the choice. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. An older husband was of poor countenance but wise with words, and he had no knowledge of how to connect to people in person. His letters were thoughtful, his essays researched, but face to face there was a disconnect. He did research in medicines to help mankind, but he did not or could not care for a man as an individual. For her, he never understood her wants or needs, and his affection was limited. Her husband was smart but cold, his words critical of everything she did. At first she didn''t know how she would manage anything on her own. But she had managed in her small wooden house with its quaint gable peak in the new bustling seaside New England town. Her husband wanted her as a wife because she was young and pretty with mahogany dark hair and dark almond eyes. He thought by his own folly he could make her love him, but she claimed no love and no love ever grew. She was too naive as a bride in the Old Country to know if she could stand up to him. He was a weight, a shackle around her ankle, for the three years of their marriage. She did it because she didn''t think she had a choice. She waited for news, and every ship that came in without news and without him was a relief. She knew his return was inevitable, like winter, and it filled her with dread. It was still autumn. And she was still independent for now. Chapter II: The New Minister Every Sunday was a full day of church service. Everyone in town was required by law to attend, so Hester attended without complaint. In truth, the days felt tedious like they would never end with the same repetitive messaging. Hester didn''t like sitting still when her hands could be sewing, but she followed the rules and sat still as she was bade. The furnishings in the church were bare, as unlike the Old Faith, her people didn''t believe adornments were necessary in people''s conversations with God. The building was made of wood, local oaks still bright brown from their newness, unlike the faded wood and stone structures of her childhood. The only adornments on the walls were readings from Scripture. The large windows down the sides of the building let natural light flood in. Reverend John Wilson, an elder minister of the church for years with a big white beard, had become less steady on his feet and was looking to step down from his day-to-day duties. His small grey eyes squinted more, unable to see as well as they used to. On that autumn Sunday, Wilson was not all alone at the pulpit. A new minister approached the pulpit with Wilson. "I will start the day by introducing to thee, Mr. Arthur Dimmesdale, recently arrived from England. He is a well-educated theologian ready to share the word of God with you today. Please welcome, my brother in Christ, as the leader of thy service today." Gentle whispers spread through the crowd. It was impolite to clap or show any strong response, so his captivated audience leaned forward as Wilson took his much-needed seat to the side. "Hello, friends. My name is Reverend Dimmesdale, and I am happy to join thee today,¡± said the younger minister. He dressed in a grave black gown, its somberness relieved only by the white of his collar. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Hester had never seen a young minister before. Dimmesdale was about her age, not a day over thirty. He had removed his wide-brimmed hat, and his light brown hair was short and matched his eyes. He was tall and slender, holding onto the sides of the podium as he orated to his captive congregation. He met her eyes once, for a moment, then he smiled faintly and looked away. It felt like a moment especially for her. She immediately dismissed the notion as a young girl¡¯s folly and not something she should expect to be true. He looked over all the new faces before him, she reasoned. He flipped to a passage in the Old Testament, followed by an explanation of its relevance to the Puritan''s daily lives. Entranced as she was by the passion in his words. If he had never talked in front of a crowd, he did not show it, as he felt as natural with his words as if he wrote the book itself. There was something melancholy about his wide eyes or maybe it was the fact a smile never crossed his face, but his sermon still moved something within her. The service went well into the early afternoon. Afterwards, people usually left to make their biggest feast of the week while it was still light out, in celebration of the Lord. The peroration of the sermon would be the climax of the whole service. The general impression of the sermon would be that both reason and conscience had been satisfied, and that the new preacher had, in the name of God, concluded with passionate and even vehement pleading to keep their faiths prominent in their deeds and hearts. When the sermon was thus over, several older members swarmed to the new reverend to learn more of him, and so Hester excused herself and went home. There were endless chores to do, but they were her chores, so she did them happily. In truth, she felt God''s presence in other places than in long church sermons. She felt Him guiding her hard work and leading her to successes or lessons from her failure. She did not generally feel much of anything during the Sabbath, sitting on a hard pew for hours, until that very first week Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale spoke to her. Chapter III: The News A few week¡¯s time went by before another ship came into port. She saw its white sails as she walked through the marketplace. Hester knew nothing about the ships¡¯ arrival schedule, but the boat she saw at port was a smaller boat than could cross the Atlantic. It was not something that generally intrigued her, but she wondered what other colony the ship had come from. When she saw a large group forming by the docks, she followed to see what caused the gathering. "Pray tell, what is this?" Hester asked another. "We knowest not!" the woman said back. "A boat from England shipwrecked about a hundred miles south,intending to land here inBoston," the captain said. A dozen questions arose, drowning each other out in their chaotic nature. "The passenger list! All missing, no word else!" The copies were passed around until one landed in her hands. Her eyes scanned the list. Her husband''s name was among them. "Oh, my Lord in Heaven," she said. ¡°God, what dost thou mean?¡± She took a step back and blinked. She couldn''t catch her breath. Missing. He was not coming. She was free. It took all she could do to keep from leaping in the air. Even better, with him known to be missing, she was still married and couldn''t be pressured to remarry by the church elders or any of her societal peers. Her life was her own and would always be if she was not made to obey a husband. There was such bedlam at the port as more sought and read the names and maligned the tragedy, Hester slowly backed away from the crowd. Word would spread to everyone soon enough. She would have to practise a neutral face, a grieving face. But in her own small home, she would smile unto herself. She didn''t need his money. She earned money for sewing small items and mending clothes. She had everything she needed to manage her life. It was not that she was happy he was likely dead. She just couldn''t feel grief in her heart. She had not prayed for his death, but she saw God''s will and His message to her. She was not one to question God''s plan. It felt like there was a message for her to live without a husband. She wandered to the church before she realised her path. The church was empty. She walked up the aisle and knelt before the cross. God had granted her a miracle. She would not have any husband to control her again. He was infinitely wise in choices. "Blessed day," a bright voice said. Hester looked up. Reverend Dimmesdale stood before her. "I''m sorry to disturb you, Goodwife." "Prynne," she said. "My husband is lost." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. "Oh, I''m so sorry." He knelt beside her. "I will pray with thee." She opened her mouth to explain more, and she felt she should confess to him that her sin was being so accepting about the news. She hadn''t wished for his death, but she knew her heart couldn''t mourn it. If she were a Papist, she would have to confess her sin of joy to her priest in order to receive pardon. But in the reformed faith of the New World, she would be able to confess directly to God once alone, and at a later time. "If thou need to talk, I am hither for all my parishioners," the reverend said. "Oh." Hester met his eyes. "Yes." "Dost thou want to talk with me now? I can show thee to my study," he said. He took her hand. She curled her fingers and slowly pulled away. He wore fine woollen clothes and a laced collar with mother of pearl buttons down his black coat. He must have felt the roughness in her hands from her labours, the callouses, the shortened dirty fingernails from tending the earth. She would have gone unfed and unclothed without her own physical toil, but suddenly she wished it was not obvious that she had had to. She had been proud to thrive on her own merits in Boston until a well-educated Englishman touched her hand of wilderness and work. "I am sorry," he said again, misreading her anguish. "Thy needn''t have to talk if thou is uncomfortable." "No, please. Please speak with me,¡± she said, looking down. "Prithee, come hither then." Not wife nor widow -- who should she turn to to declare her husband dead and she a single woman? But a single woman would be pushed to find another husband, obey another patriarch, decide nothing for herself. She had to think of herself as a wife and grasp onto that distinction as long as possible, for only as the label of a wife could she live freely. She thought about how to be careful with her words, as to not appear insensitive to terrible news. She explained her husband had business to finish in Europe but was finally coming to join her in the colony, but the shipwreck presumed all dead, no further details. "How awful for thee, dear Mistress Prynne, I knowest your heart must ache for thy loss. God is mysterious, and we cannot truly knowest His nature. I shall guide thee with any help I can." She looked at the cross. "Let me sit with you in silence to pray, then I will be on my way soon. I shan''t trouble you for long." "Oh, thou could never be any trouble at all," he said with a voice sweet and warm. He clasped his hands together, and she echoed his gesture. He closed his eyes and silently moved his lips. She peeked out on occasion to look at him¡ªhelpful, kind, and handsome. She waited for him to say something about how her husband was set by God to be her master and guide in life. She even prepared herself to correct him. He said nothing of the sort, about her, a woman, being lost or alone without some to tell her what to do. She thought of Reverend Wilson''s lengthy, fearful sermons. Perhaps Dimmesdale, the younger man, had found enlightened ideas in his studies. "Thank you, Reverend Dimmesdale," she said after a while. "I must get home to start my supper." "You can have supper with me. I am fond of any company," he said. "Oh." Her cheeks felt warm. "Some other time, yes. I will remember your kindness, good sir, have a good night and morrow." She stumbled out and walked home as the sun dipped on the horizon. Her body tingled with a strange new sensation. Her husband missing a day, her newfound freedom upon her, and yet the newly arrived minister had sent a ripple through her body like a pebble dropped into a lake that spreads out henceforth across the entirety of the surface. Chapter IV: The Harvest The town was surrounded by wilderness. The one outpost on an endless shore of forests and unknowns. Few people travelled beyond the confines of the city, but perhaps in her singular state, she knew a quick venture and sharp ear limited threats from Indians or wild animals. Hester grew her own vegetables - corn, peas, turnips, and carrots - enough for her to live on. Her keen hands could deftly sew well, and this was how she made money past what her husband had sent with her when she left. She kept a couple of chickens for eggs, but bartered when she needed to supplement her diet with milk, wheat, or herring or shellfish. If someone butchered a hog, she would salt and preserve it herself. It was a wonder what she could manage for tasks she had never known of in the Old World. Many Puritans equated the wildness of the forests with the Black Man, or Satan himself, and that it was not safe to travel beyond the town which had been tamed and civilised by God''s will. But as the sunlight cascaded on the sea and the flowers bloomed among the tall grass, Hester wondered how a place so beautiful could not be bestowed intentionally by God. She felt His presence out in the forest, His blessing, and His support she needed to know that she had the power to survive.. So one morning, she went past the edge of town, down to the marshes at the water''s edge. She unbuckled her shoes and pulled off her socks and left them in the grass. Oh, the soft freedom of grass on her toes. It was not appropriate to be bare-footed outdoors, but no one would know out there. She held her dress to keep it dry, holding it in one arm with her basket, the other hand picking a small red fruit native to the area called cranberries. Most Bostonians were not keen to expand beyond their English diet, but Hester found the tart juicy flavour delightful. He had invited her to supper. He was kind, but that was a shepherd offering comfort to his flock. Why did the offer hang over her still, enough she waited out in the muck to harvest berries? Why when she closed her eyes now, her first thought was of the young reverend''s face? Once she gathered enough, she returned to her shoes, smoothed out her dress, and returned home. She spent most days except the Sabbath cooking, cleaning, gardening, and sewing. It wasn''t much, but it was hers. She had a more challenging project in mind. She stoked the fire in the kitchen with another log. The beehive oven heated as she took out the flour she purchased from the grist miller, added water, salt and yeast. She did baking once a week, but the cranberries dried over the fire enough for her to add them to the dough and add the dough to the oven. As other chores were done, the bread baked. She checked on it periodically, and when it had been long enough, a hard crust appeared, and she removed it, inhaling the fruity scent. It cooled while she scrubbed her hands and cleaned under her nails, hoping to look her most presentable, but she could not show any opulence with only minimal embroidery at her collar and a plain white linen cap over her dark hair. She covered the pan in a cloth and walked over to the parish and went to the side door where the side residence was and knocked, her heart along to each thud against the door. Reverend Dimmesdale answered with a smile. "Goody Prynne, good to see thee again." She held up the loaf. "I had extra flour and made you cranberry bread, as I thought you must not have had any before and so to welcome you to Boston." It was a lie - her earnings were so modest that she had nothing to spare, but she felt compelled to present him with a gift after his kindness to her. "Oh, what a nice gesture! I am grateful to be in thy thoughts, as thou hath been in mine. Please come in," he said as he gestured inward. "I only meant to leave it with thee," she insisted, but smiled with sudden relief at the invitation. She was in his thoughts. He had been thinking of her. "I insist,¡± he said. With that, she followed him inside his small one-room attachment to the church. "As I am newly arrived, I will live here until I can afford my own house nearby to provide for a wife." The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. She looked at his fine wooden table, his bookshelf full of books, and his quilt-covered bed in the corner. He gestured to the table, and she sat down. "Aye, you have established a nice house in such a short time." "I have thought on your loss, and I worry how thee will get on, I thought mayhaps a collection at service could help thee," he said. Hester shook her head. She made do without charity. "Oh, no. Reverend, I am adept at needlework and sell my work enough to manage my costs. Thou needn''t worry for me. I will cope with my loss without being a burden to anyone." "Oh, I thought recently how my hat needed a band on it," Dimmesdale said, picking up his plain black hat. "Could you create one for me? I shall pay thee for it." "Yes. Of course. I will start right away. I find it soothing to toil on delicate needlework. I wish I could sew during a sermon to keep my hands busy, but I do not wish to offend thee. I do my work in silence now. My husband loved books as well, and he used to read to me while I sewed because I could not do both in the daylight, and it is hard to do either only by candlelight." "Can you sew here? Mayhaps once a week as you have time, I can read to you or practise my sermons. I would love to practise to earnest ears, as I am, as of now, better read than better said." She had meant to say she didn''t mind working in silence, but her words twisted on her tongue when she looked into his dark eyes. She looked to see if it was pity or hospitality making the offer. She dared not hope for something deeper. "Aye, good reverend. I can come on Fridays after my chores are done." "Can you stay for supper now?" He gestured to the fireplace and the caldron hanging above the flames. "I have made rabbit stew. I am not a cook, nor have I been able to hire servants yet, but I make do and have made quite a lot and thou art welcome to it if thy wish." She nodded. It had been so long since she ate with someone, and that suited her well most of the time. They said prayers before eating the vegetable-hearty stew, and he sliced the bread. "Oh! How wonderful! Goodwife, thank you for your gift and I have never had a better bread," he said. Hester smiled. It was hours of labour, but it was worth it for his words. She did not describe to herself what made her go through the effort except that knew he had not had cranberries and was new to Boston and not accustomed to its ways of life. Many people like her were born in Old England and kept to certain ways, but some things had to change and had to adapt to survive. After the meal and as dusk set in, he walked her to the door. For that moment, he was inches from her at the door frame. She turned back to face him, his proximity feeling familiar and not like a reverend but like a regular man, like a suitor, crossing a line from proper to intimate. He paused like he hadn''t realised how closely he stood to her until he was there, yet he did not pull away. "I look forward to seeing thee again." His brow furrowed. "To see thy sewing skill.¡± ¡°I see,¡± she said. ¡°I wish to aid any of my parishioners who are in need, but I know how people talk if the situation were to be misinterpreted, and I am new in town. Perhaps I need to yet earn my good name here. If thou art discomforted being alone with me, please let me know, as I will not wish to hurt thee nor thy reputation if mine is unknown. I only wish to speak my sermons with someone familiar with my parish." "Verily, I look forward to it as well. I fear not." He nodded slightly. "Then our working sessions shall be betwixt us only lest anyone think it inappropriate without knowing the context of our meetings, at least until I hath earned the community''s respect. Many a parishioner come to my study to discuss their woes. It is not unusual, but I shall keep your confidence upon this matter. You spake freely as thy wish." "I needn''t discuss with anyone, as seeking the guidance of my reverend is something any good soul should do," she said. "I shall leave the door unlocked on the side for you to come in quietly and to not bring attention. That shall work for as long as you feel comforted by my writings." It was true, the townspeople, knowing their Puritan faith was the correct one and their ways the right ways, were prone to talking amongst themselves about what proper modesty and actions were and assigning punishment for crimes outside of this realm. It was no business of theirs wherefore she worked, how she kept chaste company, but she understood judgement left little room for deviation. "I shall tell no one," Hester promised. "Have a blessed night, Goody Prynne, and see thee next week," the minister said, his voice tremulous. She left, but he looked forward to seeing her. He looked forward to seeing her, and she also looked forward to seeing him. That struck something in her. Perhaps he was aiming to comfort a woman in need, but all her thoughts until the next Sabbath were aching to see his face again and then the long days until she could visit him alone dwelt on her mind. Chapter V: To Sin The leaves started falling off the trees and covering the ground. Every step Hester took was more audible, so she tried to walk quickly with light steps to avoid drawing any attention to her actions as she went to visit the minister. He let her in with a warm greeting. The table had a cup with a single rose in it. "Mr. Dimmesdale, how beautiful. I hath not seen roses in the village," she said. "There is but one wild bush I hath seen by the prison when I went to comfort some wretches awaiting their sentences. I asked the guard if I should be able to pluck one as I thought¡ª" he paused and looked down. "Thee might like it." Hester picked up the bud and smelled its fragrance. "I do, good sir. Thank ye. How hast thee found Boston since your arrival?" "The folk being of the true faith comforts me. Yet there is a wildness here beyond the village that frightens me. The villagers fear that the Black Man lives in these woods with his pen to sign souls to his book." "Fear not. It is not so bad if you are keen about your senses. I love being in the sunlight, blocked by no buildings. I find walking along the shore to be peaceful and meditative. Man built the village, but God built the land," she said. "Hast thou seen snow in your travels?" "A little, aye." "Oh, then that is what will frighten ye here." Hester smiled. Dimmesdale sat down next to her. "Can I ask thou an intimate question?" "Aye." "What was thy husband like?" Mr. Dimmesdale asked. She looked out at the burial grounds that adjoined the church. The land was still and peaceful, not as ominous as some people thought. Plants grew wildly, with burdock plants tall in the grass, small hillocks forming a pathway between the graves. "Calm, gentle, passionless. Cold," she said. "He thought it best for me to be completely dependent on him, not for mine own comfort, but for his eagerness to learn and possess. He was a learned man, a wise man, keen to study alchemy and study plants to find their medicinal uses. I was but an item to study and use for his betterment, and I think I did better him with the only affection he had ever had. I do fear that it went away in our time apart. If anyone crossed him, he never forgot." "Dost thou need comfort for your loss?" he asked gently. "Nay." Tears stung her eyes, but not for her lost husband, but for her reverend thinking her a monster. "Mr. Dimmesdale, the Bible teacheth that a man must guide his wife and a wife must obey her husband, yet I am free hither and have made my life for the better. What sayest ye?" "Oh," said he. His cheeks reddened. "Mistress Prynne, thou art a credit to your sex. Thou art strong in sense and¡ª" he stopped talking. "Aye?" "I lost mine thought. Can I read to thee from my sermon while thy sew?" he said. Hester nodded. She took from her bag her cloth, needle and thread. Her fingers began to work, pulling golden thread through the gossamer trimming, moving at a steady pace from years of experience. The reverend picked up his paper pile and cleared his throat. ¡°I do not practise my sermons in front of people. Why doth I feel more nervous than in a crowded church?¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Be not nervous. I will look down at my work, but I shall listen intently,¡± said she. ¡°Carry on when ready.¡± Dimmesdale looked at his papers. He stood, then sat back down, and then stood again. ¡°Today, I will discuss with you: Sin,¡± said he. ¡°Let us be aware of every sin, because every sin can turn a man into a Devil. Vile, horrible, and cursed ¨C mayhaps sinful sin! How pernicious art unto the soul of men!¡± ¡°Art all sins the same?¡± Hester asked, her needle never ceasing movement. Mr. Dimmesdale looked at her, his trance broken. ¡°Art all sins the same?¡± he repeated. ¡°Forgive me. I hath meant to listen and not interject, as I would not at thy true sermon. I only meant it as postulation, as a question of concern, for I would like to hear thy thoughts.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he decided. ¡°Any sin is an affront to God and a step towards the Devil.¡± ¡°Can one sin and still accept Christ, and thus be forgiven?¡± she asked. He appeared flustered. ¡°Yes - and no - it is not for me to know how forgiving God is. It is not for us to test His patience.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Hester said and looked back to her work. ¡°I am amiss,¡± he said, shuffling his papers. He picked up his pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and scrawled through his text. ¡°Please, reverend, I only inquire, I do not dismiss. Every Puritan is as afraid all the time. Afraid of Indian attack, of starving, of drought and flood, of the Black Man himself. Dost thou offer comfort and fear, or only the latter? For me, only one of your parish, I long for more goodness and hope to hear of during the Sabbath.¡± ¡°Aye,¡± he said. ¡°Perhaps. We all face sin and need to be steadfast in our defence of it.¡± ¡°Perhaps not every sin is as equally sinful,¡± Hester said, surprising both of them with her boldness. ¡°I¡­I must rewrite some of this,¡± he said. ¡°I can leave thee with thy thoughts,¡± she offered. He held up his hand. ¡°Do not go if thou wish to stay. Let me consult my books if I may. Give me a moment." Hester did not interrupt him again as he wrote until the sunset. ¡°I must depart thee, good reverend.¡± ¡°Please, stay, I honour thy company,¡± he said without looking up. ¡°Shall you not have supper? You cannot go without. I could cook for thee if thy wish.¡± ¡°Will you? Mistress Prynne, I should be so grateful.¡± So for then and their future meetings, Dimmesdale supplied the food with his higher salary, and Hester cooked it with her higher skill. It helped her stretch her meagre earnings further, as she would have had to have cooked anyway were she home, it was no loss of time for her. After it was dark, she finally put away her needle, as candlelight was too hard to work by. ¡°You have given me thought how to best inspire my parishioners,¡± he said. ¡°I wish to help, not frighten, or perhaps do both together.¡± At the door, he took her hand. ¡°Good day, Mistress. Should I escort you home? I should.¡± ¡°Nay,¡± she said. ¡°It is not far, and you are better served on your reworkings. I have wondered...¡± ¡°Sayest your question,¡± he prompted. She took a deep breath and looked in his brown eyes. Her courage abandoned her. ¡°I cannot. I look forward to thy sermon. Good night, minister.¡± She turned and took quick steps. What kind eyes, she thought. What a thoughtful, passionate mind. She would have listened to him all night if she could. On Sunday, his sermon mixed in sin and repentance of sin, fear and hope, not losing his original message, but expanding it away from the misery so often dwelt upon by orators on their platform. Bostonians¡¯ lives were already hard and full of toil. Hester liked that on the Sabbath, she did not have to interrupt her hard work to hear hard words, and that her one moment of rest could have just a bit of hope. He did not look at her any more than he looked to the rest of the crowd. An unknowing eye would suspect nothing of their private time spent together. Still, she never broke away her gaze, looking incessantly for their eyes to meet. Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale still emphasised a sin was a sin no matter how grave, and Hester reasoned he must know more on the subject than she. But how could it be that if she coveted something, that was as damning as an act done in cruelty and malice against another? She did covet, and she did not regret it in her heart. But her thoughts hurt no one. If she was dishonouring anyone, it was her husband, but only if he lived. She had not wished him dead. She did suddenly wish she knew or not if he were, and thus if her thoughts were sinful or not. She was neither officially wife nor widow, and suddenly she was resentful of not being able to move herself officially to widowhood and being open to rewed. Chapter VI: To be Holy For the next couple of weeks, they fell into a comfortable routine. Hester had been alone most of her time in New England, and that suited her nature well, but she felt for the first time in a year that she had truly found a friend. Her hat band project was nearly done for him, so she had intentionally slowed her pace in the event their time together ended once it was complete. She put in the final switches as he picked him his papers, straightened them into a nice pile, and cleared his throat to practise his sermon. ¡°Today, I will discuss with thee: holiness. Life is not easy for a saint; sin lurks in every shadow. Good works do not unto themselves obtain salvation. We then should live our lives in holiness not for eternal salvation, but rather for the general good of the covenanted community.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± she spoke up, and Dimmesdale looked at her. ¡°Yes! Thou art good with thy words. I have oft wondered if mine heart felt guilt, would charity help not only me but to help others for it is right to do.¡± ¡°Thy heart feels guilty?¡± he pressed. She nodded slowly. ¡°Please, do not ask more of the sins of my thoughts. My thoughts have me doubt my own goodness, that I know not what to do if my goodness is in doubt, if my love of God should also be in doubt. What dost thou do in moments of weakness? Dost thou have such moments?¡± He sat down next to her. ¡°I am a man, as other men. I feel the same weaknesses but do all in my power to fight those urges that turn me from our Lord.¡± ¡°What are thy weaknesses? Thy urges?¡± she asked. ¡°The same all men have,¡± he said evasively. ¡°So I doubt, as all doubt at some moments. When I doubt mine, I know God created people and they are good inside, so I comfort the ill, feed the hungry, and give to those in need what I have. Even if I get no thanks, I do it, to be closer to God''s own image. Even when I feel all alone in the world, I do right because I must." ¡°I shall follow thy lead,¡± she said. She had been blessed and more fortunate than many. She knew she could do more for good for the sake of doing good on its own. She was inspired by him, perhaps able to listen more intently because she could sew simultaneously. Or perhaps Dimmesdale¡¯s passion was more inspirational to her than the previous reverends had been. Sitting in the wooden chair next to hers, there was a moment of silence, and there was a slight lean in from him, the way someone who is comfortable and familiar with someone would lean. Hester started to lean in as well despite her better judgement and looked down to catch herself. She looked at his soft lips before looking at her project. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Reverend, the new band for your hat," Hester said proudly. She took the hat from where it sat the table and attached the band around it. "What does thou sayeth?" "Beautiful," Dimmesdale said, looking at her then looking down. He took coins from his pocket and handed them to her. "I thank ye kindly for thy delicate craft and will fondly wear it.¡± He stroked at the band. ¡°Mistress Prynne, thou art done with my commission, but dost thou like working here one morning a week? In truth...in truth, I enjoy a keen ear and company while I write and review my workings." ¡°Oh, yes,¡± Hester said quickly. ¡°I enjoy thy company as well. I will still come. Mr. Dimmesdale, can I ask thou an intimate question?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why did thee become minister?¡± He looked towards the fireplace, the light casting a shadow on his cheek. ¡°I do not know if I thought about it, or as a child I always knew I would devote myself to God and spreading His word. There is no other calling for me. I feel I know what dost God think and what He does smite and what He marks as sin, and I guide His will with mine own steady hand.¡± ¡°Thou art a learned man, a passionate man, and many are learning thee hath true devotion in thy heart. People admire thy love. People see the love thou hath, and how it gives thee strength,¡± Hester said. ¡°Thee inspire thy followers.¡± ¡°And thee?¡± ¡°Aye,¡± she said, feeling breathless. ¡°Thou inspires me.¡± He took her hand. ¡°Tis good. Thy words inspire my words. My work is better when I share it with thee.¡± The days were growing shorter as winter neared. She was aware their sessions were also shortening, at the mercy of the light. Winter was harsh, moreso in Boston than anywhere she had been before. She vexed her mind, looking for excuses to linger in his presence. She had to leave at sunset before the light was gone and she couldn''t find her way. He walked her to the door. ¡°Mr. Dimmesdale,¡± she started. She tugged at her white lace collar. She was at a loss of words. There was so much she wanted to say but could not. He leaned forward. ¡°Aye, Mistress?¡± ¡°I bear the same weaknesses as other women,¡± she said after a moment. ¡°I want to be a good Christian, but there are things I did as a married woman that I cannot do now. How can I seek thy holiness and repress those physical desires for which I grew accustomed?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± He blushed. ¡°I know not how to answer. Let me read more on the subject and let thee know my thoughts at our next discussion,¡± he said. ¡°Indeed, I pray thee do,¡± she said, before the hour was late and she had to depart. Chapter VII: To Seek Salvation The winter had been tolerable, as well as one could expect from a New England winter. It was cold daily with grey cloudy skies and shortened daylight. Food was scarcer, and people turned to foods they preserved in the fall, including dried and salted meats, pickled vegetables, and fruits turned into jams. It was a less prosperous season, its bleakness inevitable for months. It was as dreary as Hester expected. The roaring fireplace in Dimmesdale''s study unburdened their times together. She feared the colder months, and they were as unpleasant as the previous year as far as temperature. She had hated her husband for sending her to a cold wasteland, but she had made it through before, and now she felt guilt for feeling such anger towards someone now likely dead. He was not a bad man, as she remembered him. He just wasn''t someone she could love. She arrived at the minister¡¯s house one Friday morning and hung her cloak, and removed her thick hat, her scarf, and her gloves that she needed even for the short walk from her residence to his. Dimmesdale was looking out the window to the graveyard when she arrived. ¡°Indeed, as thy warned, this season is bleak,¡± Dimmesdale said. ¡°It is harder than I thought to keep the church warm enough for the parishioners. I cannot let them be miserable just to hear me speak of God. I must rise much earlier to tend to the fire; I cannot ask my followers to be miserable for thine ears to be enriched by mine words.¡± ¡°We manage,¡± Hester said. ¡°Some warm bricks and carry in metal boxes to place at their feet during service. For the true faith is worth the cold, and that is why I make extra clothes. New members know not what they are in for, and they are grateful for the woollen clothes I craft to keep them warm inside the church.¡± ¡°Bless thee,¡± he said. ¡°I can hardly bear this weather. Honestly, tis nothing like England at all.¡± ¡°God doesn''t give us more than we can bear,¡± she said. ¡°It will be over soon enough, then spring again.¡± ¡°Tis true. It will pass. Let me speak to thee on my sermon if thou art ready,¡± he said. ¡°I am indeed.¡± She thought by now he must have been comfortable speaking in the church, which was his original concern when he proposed reviewing his sermons. He didn''t need her for that anymore. If anything, it was harder for her to leave her home and travel just to sit with him. She didn''t want to point that out, as there was something she longed for all week to see him, and that was worth the sacrifice. ¡°Today, I will discuss with you: Salvation,¡± said he. ¡°All flesh is corrupt. All men by nature need salvation from wickedness. We are by nature children of wrath and enemies of God, but those who are gotten by Christ are thereby reconciled into eternal salvation.¡± Hester did not speak it, but she disagreed. She did not think people were born bad and needed to be taught to be good. She thought children were pure and as adults were sometimes corrupted, but she felt her own nature was good and her own nature had only come to be once she could exist as a single person. She had not known herself outside first her father''s then her husband''s shadow. She felt goodness in her heart once she started to listen to it. He continued his oration. When he was done, she spoke. ¡°Verily good. Thy passion and knowledge is inspiring to all the church,¡± she said. She wondered if at her salvation, if she would see her husband again, and she filled with dread at the thought. ¡°Dost thou think we have a choice who we meet when we first enter Heaven, or does God decide for us?¡± Dimmesdale brought his hand to his chin. ¡°God is wrathful, and God is merciful as well. It is vain to hope we have a choice in the matter. He will think on our souls then decide who we deserve an everlasting and pure reunion. Perhaps if we were truly repentant, He will consider our wishes.¡± Hester put down her needle. ¡°Hast thou thought more on the question I asked upon our last meeting?¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Which question?¡± ¡°As I was a married woman, there were some duties I would do with my husband, and now I cannot help but miss that despite being a widow now,¡± she said. ¡°Thou art not a widow,¡± he said. ¡°Thy husband may live.¡± ¡°He may,¡± she acquiesced. ¡°I feel like a widow in my heart. I am waiting for confirmation of the state I know I am in. What if he is never found, like all the ship¡¯s passengers? Should I never be permitted to remarry and love if I cannot be sure?¡± ¡°I have read upon the subject to thy question, and I do not think wives enjoy coupling the way husbands do, so I am thus perplexed on how to answer,¡± he said slowly and without making eye contact. He turned away. She touched his arm. ¡°That is not so. God would not make a union for one to love and other hate,¡± she said. ¡°A marriage is blessed by God to beget children, and it would not befit that goal if both in a happy union did not enjoy each other and love each other both in their necessary actions.¡± ¡°Give me a moment.¡± He paced to the window and opened it slightly with his face in the path of the cold breeze. ¡°Oh! Look at the snow!¡± Hester ran to the window. The snow covered the landscape and was still falling. She could hardly see anything of the graveyard. There was hardly more to see than right outside the window, just grey and whiteness as if a sheet was hanging across the land. ¡°I must go!¡± Hester threw on her winter garments and flung open the door. She saw at least a foot had accumulated during her visit to the parish, maybe more. ¡°Mistress Prynne, please! It is not safe!¡± Dimmesdale pushed the door shut. ¡°It still is coming down heavily. You must wait until at least it stops.¡± ¡°It may not stop until night!¡± she cried. ¡°There is no moon tonight. I should not be able to see and the snow will be two feet deep by then.¡± ¡°Then thee will stay here until morning,¡± the minister declared. ¡°You cannot freeze to death and die in a snowbank trying to fight thy way home. Thee will stay hither until it is safe to travel.¡± ¡°Stay?¡± she repeated. ¡°Aye.¡± He looked to the interior of the room. ¡°Thee will take my bed, and I will take a blanket and sleep on the floor.¡± ¡°I could not take thy bed,¡± Hester insisted. ¡°I could make it home if I leave now.¡± ¡°If thee did not make it, I could never forgive myself,¡± Dimmesdale said. ¡°So I must insist. It is not much, but thee will remain safe. It is no trouble to sleep on the floor a night so a guest can be in comfort. Christ would give what he had to those in need.¡± Hester blushed. ¡°I thank ye, good reverend.¡± Hester made supper to which they ate mostly in silence. She regretted her question earlier, and she had not thought if it would make him uncomfortable enough to not address. She wished in part to flee instead of sitting in discomfort at the implication of her previous marital activities and vex him with the notion a woman would long to participate in those activities. After they ate, the reverend lit more candles as the sun was entirely gone. ¡°Could I read to you from Essays in Divinity? I had planned to read from it and think on it after you had departed. I can read to myself if thy prefer,¡± he said. ¡°If thy wish, I shall listen,¡± she said. She smoothed out her dress as he read from his book. His eyes remained steadfastly on the page, his brows drawn together as he thought on each word. Her mind started to wander, and when he finished his passage, she asked, ¡°Reverend, can salvation be a person?¡± ¡°Salvation is the deliverance from sin and consequences. It cannot be a person,¡± he said. ¡°If a person were to save someone in such a way, could that be as similar to salvation as could happen on Earth?¡± she asked. ¡°Could two people seek salvation in love? Hast thou ever been in love?¡± ¡°I have not. Rather, I am unsure.¡± He closed his book and looked down at his hands. ¡°I love my congregation, that is true. And -¡± ¡°And?¡± He looked at her. His hand moved towards her and then pulled back to himself. ¡°Does it still snow?¡± Hester looked out the window. ¡°Aye.¡± ¡°Let me read more to thee. The evening is young, and we will be together until morning light, so let us use this time to think of God''s guidance and His commandments.¡± She noted that he evaded her question, but she knew the answer she longed to hear from him. Chapter VIII: The Parishioner and Her Pastor Night drew near, and he could not avoid that with his readings. They said their evening prayers and blew out the candles, leaving only the fireplace was a source of light and heat. Hester took another look at the window, but there was only blackness and no more signs of snowfall. Hester doffed her white linen cap and left it on the table by his bed, so that her glossy black hair fell to her shoulders. She left her shoes and woollen socks at the end of the bed. Mr. Dimmesdale turned his gaze away, and she climbed into his bed and found it warm, soft, and comforting. She closed her eyes, trying to dismiss her thoughts of her reverend sleeping in the space she would sleep in. It was quiet for a time. Hester kept her eyes closed and thought of how she could not sleep with her racing heart. The fire burned low, but a whisper stirred her to attention. Dimmesdale kneeled in front of his cross on the wall, praying to himself, rocking back and forth in the dim light. Hester watched him for a long time before tiredness eventually overtook her and she had to close her eyes again. "I have fallen into the pit," he whispered but loud enough for her to hear. She said nothing as he eventually lay on the floor under a thin blanket. She could not sleep in her stiff outer garments but wasn''t sure if it was appropriate to take them off. Once he finished praying and pulled his quilt onto himself, appearing asleep, she lifted her gown off and laid it to the foot of the bed. She removed her petticoats and unlaced her corset, leaving on only her shift. She eventually fell asleep, but the howl of an animal outside awoke her, and she felt a chill in the room and the fire was out. She leapt out of bed and added the small branches from the wood pile on the few remaining embers. In the dim light, she located the nearby steel flint, which she struck against the bricks to add a spark of flame to the wood. As the embers spread and grew, she added more branches. Surely, the reverend usually checks his fire before sleep, she thought. He must have been distracted by his late night prayers. The window was open! Hastily she closed and locked it. The bed was on the other side of the room. Even just a crack, some snow had fallen in. As she turned to see the pastor on the floor, pale as a ghost, her confusion shifted to concern. She placed a hand upon his cheek, and it was icy cold. At first glance at his pallor, she thought he had died. "Mr. Dimmesdale!" she whispered. "Get thee into bed! Thee will die in this cold air." He stirred. "An angel?" he said with half-closed eyes. "Come." She lifted him by the arm. His doublet was damp from the snow, so she unbuttoned and removed it and tucked him into the bed under the layers of quilts. Still between sleep and awake, he grabbed her wrist and pulled his hand to him, and facing the brutal frigid air herself until the fire swelled enough to warm the space, she found herself under the blankets with him. "Thou art still so cold," she murmured. "I shall warm thee with my body. Disrobe at once to let your body heal.¡± It was the sensible thing to do. But her body trembled, and not from the cold, to feel him so close. "Tis better," he whispered. She faced him, and he rested his arm around her, and he nuzzled his face against her neck. "Mistress Prynne, thou art tender and good." Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Dost thou feel better?" asked she. "By flesh, aye. Thou art my salvation! I long to touch thy beauty as I gaze upon thee. I have longed to hold thee and now cannot let go. I thought the cold would numb me from my sinful thoughts." He kissed her, leaning into her, pulling her close against him. She pulled her shift over her head so that she was nude next to him, her body''s warmth improving him and stirring his own fire within. She moved close in so he touched her unclothed body. "I welcome thee. I hath dreamt of thy touch. Feel my warmth, my heart beats for thee." "Woman, I have dreamt of thee as well. I ache for moments to see thee in church or in my study. I cannot let go now." His hands had never touched a woman''s bare skin. His hand traced along her but he was afraid to feel more, already overwhelmed by the mere sight. "Thou art smooth and delicate. I mustn''t, but I do not understand this feeling you bring forth from within me," he said. She reached over to remove his long shirt. Her hands touched his arms and his chest, feeling rough texture and seeing pale faded scars on his arms. "Marks I add when I have committed sin," he explained. "It is not a sin to love someone," she told him. "Heavenly Father, help me. I know that it is. But I feel now that it is not. I am inexperienced at such things, but I shall follow your guidance. On this night, I cannot bear to hold thee away." "Worry not." He removed his breeches and stockings. His cock was already hard as iron, and her warm hands stroked it gently. Her skilled fingers, adept from needlework, knew how to move along his body to accomplish her goals. "Art thou in love?" she inquired. "Yes - yes - desperately! I need thee. I pledge myself to thee and thee alone." "Sayest thou so? I do as well." She took his hand then moved his hand to her breast where he could feel her heartbeat under her creamy pale skin. His hand travelled down her navel and down further still. The soft hair and the opening, wet, invited his fingers as they sank into her, exploring newfound spaces. "I love his thee absolutely and cherish thee as Christ does His gathered people. I do faithfully promise to marry thee in a time most convenient," the reverend said. "From day forward, Arthur Dimmesdale, for better, for worse, in sickness, and in health, to love, and cherish, till death do us depart, according to God''s holy ordinance: and thereto I give my truth." "I vow it as well." She mounted him, placed his hands on her hips, and slid herself onto his cock, joining their bodies. She hadn''t done anything but lie still with her husband, dreading every moment, and waiting until it was over. Now she locked eyes with the reverend as her hips moved on their own accord, savouring every sensation shooting throughout her body. Slowly at first, and then her movements gained speed. "Dearest me! What pleasure, what - loss of words!" cried the minister. "Oh, Mistress Prynne!" "Say Hester," she said. "I sayeth Arthur, Arthur my love!" "Hester, oh, Hester." He flipped her onto her back with her head on the pillows, blankets still pulled up over them. He kissed her bosom. Knowing not what to do from experience, his body and his heart knew what to do upon seeing her smile and feeling her opening ready for him, letting him slide in and out with ease in her warm flesh. His pace picked up, overriding his thoughts so that he couldn''t speak. He planted his lips on his beloved, kissed her deeply, held her close, breathing heavily and moans escaping him. When she arched her back and let out a sudden cry of joy, he couldn''t hold back any more, coming within her, feeling the release of a lifetime of anguish into one heavenly body. They were still for a moment, gazing into each other''s eyes in the dim firelight. "It is Providence that has led me to you," Dimmesdale said. Chapter IX: Repentance In the soft early morning light, Hester stirred. Seeing Arthur Dimmesdale sleeping peacefully next to her, she kissed his forehead and removed herself from the bed. The fire had decently grown, but she added more wood to it, and then dressed herself. It was still early enough for her to return home without suspicion as the streets would be empty, and if she stayed, she would stay forever. Opening the door, the fresh snow was a foot or more high, but it was manageable to traverse the white ground in the bright sunlight, leaving behind only footprints. She would have to quickly remove her snow-covered garments once home, but she could make it there without issue. "Sweet partings, I shall see thee anon," she whispered, as she knew he was asleep. Even leaving a letter of her departure could prove damning if the wrong eyes fell upon it, so she left without a sign. She walked into the snow, smiling despite the cold, frigid air, as she had true love in her heart. ¡­ The next Sabbath, a morning later, good reverend Mr. Dimmesdale did not appear. In his place was elderly Rev. John Wilson, saying the younger minister had taken ill. The sermon went as expected, and no one was concerned, as everyone got sick once in a while and in winter, it was more often than not. There was nothing different from yesterday for everyone except Hester. The sermon dragged on endlessly. She looked between Wilson and the door but remained in her pew with her posture straightened. She wished to seek her love and why he did not appear, but it was impossible to do covertly, so all she could do was wait and wait. She waited until sundown, as it was dark and everyone was in their homes and unlikely to see her traipse down the street back to the church and his residence. It had taken all her concentration to work on her household chores after church until the timing was right. If she went any earlier, she could have drawn suspicious eyes or run into do-gooders stopping in to check on the reverend themselves. Above all now, she could not be seen interacting with him. When their meetings were innocent, she could have defended herself if anyone did suspect anything. Now that she was in love in a precarious situation, she had to be extra careful to protect both of them. Hester threw on a cape and made her way to the small house attached to the church. Because of the days activity, most of the snow had been shovelled out of the way or flattened by walking. It was easier to return to him than it was to leave him. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. No answer came when she knocked. Still, she was compelled to enter. Arthur Dimmesdale, pale as the moon, kneeled with his head on his legs in front of the cross, the back of his undershirt bloody from his scourge in front of him. "Oh, Arthur," she said, running to his side and breaking his trance. "Hester, our sins plague me. I offer my flesh unto penitence like priests did in the old faith of Rome. You must leave me be. I dragged thee into sin." "So your promises were for naught?" she asked with no emotion. He turned to her, his eyes red. He touched her dress. "Nay. My dear Hester, once thou left I realised the extent of my misdoings. I should not have lied with thee, but my heart is thine, and my promises were true." He looked up at her. "Thou left me." "Only for thine own protection. What hereto wouldst happen if one of thy parishioners thus sought thee out in the morning and found me but in thy bed? I desired to stay all night and all day. Come hither," she said, and he stood. She kissed him softly on his lips. "You are here, for always now," he said, tapping his heart. "How long until I can petition Governor Bellingham to declare mine husband dead so that I am free to marry?" she asked. "A year of no word, perhaps later. I do not know the law on this matter. Thee must not rush mourning. Thee needeth the time to mourn if he is dead, and enough time to confirm if he is not, lest thee become a bigamist." "In a year, thy will forget me," Hester said. "I could never, I will never. I promise I will not abandon ye. Thou art my wife in my heart! I could not seek another. I cannot lie with ye again, but I feel heaven''s light being in thine presence. I feel it now. Can I see thou and not give into temptation? Nay. Yet can I not see thee and live?" he murmured more to himself. She did not think she knew more than he knew about God, but she knew in His infinite mercy. They had made the promises in front of each other, but not in church before witnesses, and not with a clear marital state on her side. She felt sure her husband must be dead. They should not have made haste in their physical act, but she only worried of the townspeople¡¯s judgement. She was not worried she had offended God because her heart was pure on the matter. She had not loved before and would not love again. The memory of him holding her in the gentle night had filled her with comfort and hope. It felt wrong to call that a sin. ¡°Perhaps, it is not wise for me to sew while thou practise thy sermons any longer,¡± Hester said. ¡°I do not wish to call into question thy conscience or tempt thee into something you deem sinful. Thou wilt be my love, my Arthur, no matter if in a year thou has lost thy desire for me. I shall not lose mine for thee. Yet I do not think I can visit thee in thy private quarters while this vexes thee so. Good day, my beloved.¡± ¡°Hester, please,¡± he said, touching his heart again. ¡°Do not,¡± she said and left. Chapter X: Spring Spring in the New World was beautiful. After a long and dreadful winter, there was nothing Hester looked forward to more. There was new life. There was hope again. On the outskirts of Boston, within the verge of the peninsula, Hester walked past a small thatched cottage on her journey to the sea. She had learned that it had been built by an earlier settler, and abandoned, because the soil about it was too sterile for cultivation, while its remoteness was deemed undesirable. Hester wondered what it would be like to live alone off of her husband''s land, and she was pleased with the scenery. Nature was beautiful once the flowers bloomed and the wildlife emerged from their hideaways. She stood on the shore, looking across a basin of the sea at the forest-covered hills, towards the west. A clump of scrubby trees grew along her path. Everything was green again. As soon as there was a warm day and winter had been cast off, Hester eagerly walked along the sea shore, left her shoes on the bank, and gathered oysters from the tide pools. The waters were cold but not intolerable. She stepped in mid-leg deep, dogged seaweed, and picked up some pleasant-looking seashells. She took a deep breath in of the salty air and made her way back to the dry sand and shrub grass with her basket of bounty. "Hester Prynne," a voice said, and she turned to see none other than her beloved standing feet from her, his footsteps masked by the waves crashing on the shore. Dimmesdale touched his heart. "I hath not seen ye in a long time outside of mine congregation, even then thee sit in the back or out of my view when I look for thee. Is it thou? Art thou in life?¡± Hester smiled. "Oh! To see thee here warms me. It hath been a while. Nay, thy study hath become confined, and I cannot bring myself to return there. You are out in God''s nature now, and only such an open wilderness could befit our reunion. The sunshine blesses us in pure light," she said. His pale face turned towards her. "I had hoped to see thee alone again, as rare is a soul that ventures forth here, and I knew you oft did." He reached out his hand. "I have missed ye with every fibre of me. Wherefore hast thou been?" "I am with child," she said. He took a step back, anguish weakening his knees to which she caught him to steady him. She had not known when or how to tell him, but she felt good to let him in on the secret only she knew. "In truth, I did not think I could, as I laid with my husband and it bore no fruitful offspring. Yet I did not love him like I do thee. Perhaps that is the difference," she said. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. "What can we do now? Oh! We forgot our God and His laws¡ªwhen we violated our reverence to each other!" He buried his face betwixt his hands. "We violated the town''s laws, but not God''s," said she. She touched her stomach. She wasn''t showing yet, but she felt connected to the life inside. "We vowed our love for each other. Why He hath made it unclear the fate of mine husband so that we hide in the shadows and out in the wilderness instead of vowing in front of others I shan''t know - it is God''s will, His plan, and I will bear thy child that He bestowed upon me, and come what may of it." "The child will be our eternal shame for what we did," he said. "For I could not wait to love thee within a true marriage, and for that I will repent for all my life for damning thee." Hester said, "I shall not tell anyone, not a soul, that thou art my child''s father. I swear it. I regret nothing. I shall look upon our child and see thee. Ye shall see the child in church teach them of our Heavenly Father''s love and your own love will come through, even if the child does not know you as their earthly one." "If thee hast a child, then I cannot marry thee. Thou wilt be a fallen woman," he said solemnly. "At least not if I do not confess my sin as well, as the child shall bear my features. I cannot gaze upon it without seeing us both and then turn my head and deny it. I must confess as well." "Nay!" she objected. "What good wouldst it be for us both to be sinners and outcasts? Your sermons give faith and hope to all in our town. You worketh good amongst those in need. You needn''t be cast down with me; then your congregation will be lost without you, and we both would face punishment. I fear not what the townspeople will do. Mine own salvation relies upon me and Heaven above." "I cannot, I cannot..." he said. She touched his mouth. She kissed him. "Sweet Arthur, like your kind words to condemned men before they venture forth to the scaffold, take me and hold me a final time." "I cannot!" he cried. Hester spread her cape like a blanket over the grass. "Tis one last time before a lifetime of mine outward shame. In my heart, before God, we promised each other when we spake our truths and are married in our hearts. Be it no more sin than between any man and his wife. Be it one last time before judgmental eyes follow me henceforth. Please." He did not object again. She loosened his ministerial vestments, his powerless anguish unable to stop her, a sensation stirring within him at her tender touch. Soon they were both undressed, and despite knowing the high penitence he would have to mark on his skin, he took her in a familiar way, falling into a reverie as Adam fell with Eve. No more words needed said over the heavy breaths and moans, their bodies feeling pleasure that could not outweigh their worries. Hester soaked in every inch of him, seeing him for his true nature beneath his title. Whatever would come for her next, she did not care. It was God''s will that she found her love, and nothing in this realm could stop her heart from what was meant to be. They both cried when it was over, knowing their bond would be their doom. The pastor and his parishioner loved each other physically for the final time, but their hearts would forever be united in slight joy and eternal judgement. At that moment, they could think of nothing and want for nothing else but to be loved so.