incantations
of the savage priests; who were universally acknowledged to be powerful
enchanters, often performing seemingly miraculous cures by their skill in the
black art. A large number - and many of these were persons of such sober sense
and practical observation, that their opinions would have been valuable, in
other matters - affirmed that Roger Chillingworth's aspect had undergone a
remarkable change while he had dwelt in town, and especially since his abode
with Mr. Dimmesdale. At first, his expression had been calm, meditative,
scholar-like. Now, there was something ugly and evil in his face, which they had
not previously noticed, and which grew still the more obvious to sight, the
oftener they looked upon him. According to the vulgar idea, the fire in his
laboratory had been brought from the lower regions, and was fed with infernal
fuel; and so, as might be expected, his visage was getting sooty with the smoke.
    To sum up the matter, it grew to be a widely diffused opinion, that the
Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, like many other personages of especial sanctity, in
all ages of the Christian world, was haunted either by Satan himself, or Satan's
emissary, in the guise of old Roger Chillingworth. This diabolical agent had the
Divine permission, for a season, to burrow into the clergyman's intimacy, and
plot against his soul. No sensible man, it was confessed, could doubt on which
side the victory would turn. The people looked, with an unshaken hope, to see
the minister come forth out of the conflict, transfigured with the glory which
he would unquestionably win. Meanwhile, nevertheless, it was sad to think of the
perchance mortal agony through which he must struggle towards his triumph.
    Alas, to judge from the gloom and terror in the depths of the poor
minister's eyes, the battle was a sore one, and the victory any thing but
secure!
 

                          X. The Leech and His Patient

Old Roger Chillingworth, throughout life, had been calm in temperament, kindly,
though not of warm affections, but ever, and in all his relations with the
world, a pure and upright man. He had begun an investigation, as he imagined,
with the severe and equal integrity of a judge, desirous only of truth, even as
if the question involved no more than the air-drawn lines and figures of a
geometrical problem, instead of human passions, and wrongs inflicted on himself.
But, as he proceeded, a terrible fascination, a kind of fierce, though still
calm, necessity seized the old man within