‘Hester,’ said the clergyman, ‘farewell!’...‘Shall we not meet again?’ whispered she... ‘The law we broke I—the sin here awfully revealed!—let these alone be in thy thoughts!... 'God knows; and He is merciful!'... His will be done! Farewell!’ That final word came forth with the minister’s expiring breath
And thus, while standing on the scaffold, in this vain show of expiation, Mr. Dimmesdale was overcome with a great horror of mind, as if the universe were gazing at a scarlet token on his naked breast, right over his heart.
arraying her in a crimson velvet tunic of a peculiar cut
"Mother, the sunshine does not love you. It runs away and hides itself because it is afraid of something on your chest."
It may serve, let us hope, to symbolise some sweet moral blossom that may be found along the track.