 consist in the pursuit and systematic exercise
of revenge; and when, by its completest triumph and consummation, that evil
principle was left with no further material to support it, - when, in short,
there was no more devil's work on earth for him to do, it only remained for the
unhumanized mortal to betake himself whither his Master would find him tasks
enough, and pay him his wages duly. But, to all these shadowy beings, so long
our near acquaintances, - as well Roger Chillingworth as his companions, - we
would fain be merciful. It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry,
whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost
development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each
renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual
life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate
hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object. Philosophically
considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially the same, except that
one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance, and the other in a dusky and
lurid glow. In the spiritual world, the old physician and the minister - mutual
victims as they have been - may, unawares, have found their earthly stock of
hatred and antipathy transmuted into golden love.
    Leaving this discussion apart, we have a matter of business to communicate
to the reader. At old Roger Chillingworth's decease (which took place within the
year), and by his last will and testament, of which Governor Bellingham and the
Reverend Mr. Wilson were executors, he bequeathed a very considerable amount of
property, both here and in England, to little Pearl, the daughter of Hester
Prynne.
    So Pearl - the elf-child, - the demon offspring, as some people, up to that
epoch, persisted in considering her - became the richest heiress of her day, in
the New World. Not improbably, this circumstance wrought a very material change
in the public estimation; and, had the mother and child remained here, little
Pearl, at a marriageable period of life, might have mingled her wild blood with
the lineage of the devoutest Puritan among them all. But, in no long time after
the physician's death, the wearer of the scarlet letter disappeared, and Pearl
along with her. For many years, though a vague report would now and then find
its way across the sea, - like a shapeless piece of driftwood tost ashore, with
the initials of a name upon it, - yet
