 by some very sensible people, - that Heaven
had wrought an absolute miracle, by transporting an eminent Doctor of Physic,
from a German university, bodily through the air, and setting him down at the
door of Mr. Dimmesdale's study! Individuals of wiser faith, indeed, who knew
that Heaven promotes its purposes without aiming at the stage-effect of what is
called miraculous interposition, were inclined to see a providential hand in
Roger Chillingworth's so opportune arrival.
    This idea was countenanced by the strong interest which the physician ever
manifested in the young clergyman; he attached himself to him as a parishioner,
and sought to win a friendly regard and confidence from his naturally reserved
sensibility. He expressed great alarm at his pastor's state of health, but was
anxious to attempt the cure, and, if early undertaken, seemed not despondent of
a favorable result. The elders, the deacons, the motherly dames, and the young
and fair maidens, of Mr. Dimmesdale's flock, were alike importunate that he
should make trial of the physician's frankly offered skill. Mr. Dimmesdale
gently repelled their entreaties.
    »I need no medicine,« said he.
    But how could the young minister say so, when, with every successive
Sabbath, his cheek was paler and thinner, and his voice more tremulous than
before, - when it had now become a constant habit, rather than a casual gesture,
to press his hand over his heart? Was he weary of his labors? Did he wish to
die? These questions were solemnly propounded to Mr. Dimmesdale by the elder
ministers of Boston and the deacons of his church, who, to use their own phrase,
dealt with him on the sin of rejecting the aid which Providence so manifestly
held out. He listened in silence, and finally promised to confer with the
physician.
    »Were it God's will,« said the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, when, in fulfilment
of this pledge, he requested old Roger Chillingworth's professional advice, »I
could be well content, that my labors, and my sorrows, and my sins, and my
pains, should shortly end with me, and what is earthly of them be buried in my
grave, and the spiritual go with me to my eternal state, rather than that you
should put your skill to the proof in my behalf.«
    »Ah,« replied Roger Chillingworth, with that quietness which, whether
imposed or natural, marked all his deportment, »it is thus that a young
clergyman is apt to speak. Youthful men, not
