Chapter 4The Interview

Back at the prison, Hester Prynne was seriously wound up, totally on edge. The guards had to keep a close eye on her, just in case she hurt herself or did something crazy with the baby. As night fell, they couldn't calm her down, no matter what they said or threatened.

So, Master Brackett, the jailer, called in a doctor. He was a really smart guy, knew all about medicine - the Christian kind, anyway. Plus, he knew a ton about herbs and roots from the Native people in the forest. Honestly, they really needed a pro, not just for Hester, but especially for the baby.

It was feeding on her, getting all her stress and sadness. Now, the little one was having painful spasms, a clear sign of the hard time Hester had been going through. Right after the jailer went in, that guy showed up - the one who’s been catching Hester’s eye.

He was staying in the prison, not because he's done anything wrong, but because it was the easiest way to keep him safe until the officials could talk to the Native leaders about getting him back. His name was Roger Chillingworth.

The jailer led him in, and he stopped for a second, surprised at how quiet things got. Hester had totally frozen, like she was a statue, even though the baby kept moaning.

"Seriously, dude, leave me alone with my patient," said the practitioner. "Trust me, jailer, you’ll have some peace in your house for a bit; and, I promise you, Mistress Prynne will be way easier to deal with than she’s been. "No way, if you can actually pull that off," answered Master Brackett.

"Honestly, the woman's been totally wild. I was close to just whipping the devil out of her, I swear." The stranger had walked into the room super quietly - like, a classic professional move.

He didn't change up his vibe even when the jailer left, and he was face-to-face with the woman, who’s been totally checking him out in the crowd, like they have some deep connection. First thing he did was focus on the kid; her cries were serious, so he had to ditch everything else to calm her down.

He checked her out carefully, then pulled out a leather case from under his clothes. It was full of medical stuff, and he mixed one thing with a cup of water.

"My old experiments with alchemy," he said, "and living for over a year with people who really know their herbs, have made me a better doctor than a lot of folks with fancy degrees. Here, woman! The kid’s yours - she’s not mine - and she won’t even recognize my voice or face as her dad’s."

"Give her this drink yourself." Hester pushed away the medicine, staring at him with a really worried look. "Are you trying to take it out on this innocent baby?" she whispered.

"Seriously?" the doctor said, his voice a mix of annoyance and reassurance. "What could possibly be wrong with you, that would hurt this poor, messed-up baby? The medicine is totally good for them; and if it were my kid - like, my own - I couldn’t do any better."

She still didn’t say anything, totally out of it. So, he gently took the baby and gave it the medicine himself. It worked fast, just like he promised. The baby’s cries faded; the shaking stopped; and, like little kids do after they feel better, it drifted off to a deep sleep.

The doctor - and he was a real doctor - turned his attention to her. He checked her pulse, looked her right in the eyes - a look that made her feel uneasy, familiar but cold - and then, satisfied, mixed up another drink.

"I donn't know Lethe or Nepenthe," he said, "but I’ve picked up a bunch of new stuff out in the wilderness. This is one of them - a recipe an Indian taught me, in exchange for some lessons of my own, that were as old as Paracelsus. Drink up! It might not be as good as feeling totally at peace."

I can’t give you that. But it’ll chill you out, like pouring oil on a stormy sea. He handed her the cup. She took it, staring at him with a slow, serious look; not exactly scared, but full of questions about what he was up to. She glanced at her sleeping baby."

"I’ve thought about dying," she said, "wished for it, even prayed for it - though I don’t know if someone like me should even pray. But if death is in this cup, I want you to think twice before you watch me drink it. Look! It’s right at my lips."

"Drink up," he said, still totally chill. "Seriously, Hester Prynne, do you know me that little? Are my plans always so basic? Even if I’m plotting revenge, what better way to get to what I want than to let you live?"

Give you meds to keep you safe, so this burning shame can just keep blazing on your chest. As he spoke, he put his long finger on the scarlet letter, and it suddenly felt like it was burning Hester's chest, super hot. He saw her flinch and smirked."

"So, live, and wear your doom for everyone to see - for the people, for your kid, and for the dude you used to call your husband. And, to keep you going, drink this." Hester Prynne didn’t argue or hesitate.

She finished the cup, and when the man gestured, she sat on the bed where her child was sleeping. He pulled up the only chair in the room and sat down next to her.

She was shaking, because she felt like - after doing everything he needed to do to help her feel better, whether it was kindness or just messed-up cruelty - he was about to deal with her like the person she’d hurt the most.

"Hester," he said, "I’m not asking why or how you ended up here, or should I say, on this pedestal of shame that I found you on. It’s not that complicated. It was my mistake, and your vulnerability."

Me - a guy who just thinks, a bookworm from huge libraries - already falling apart, having wasted my best years chasing knowledge - what did I have to do with someone as young and beautiful as you!

I was born looking weird, so how could I even think that being smart would hide my looks in a girl's imagination? People call me wise. If wise people ever helped themselves, I could have seen this coming.

I could have known that the second I stepped out of that dark forest and into this town full of Christian folks, I’d see you, Hester Prynne, standing there, a statue of disgrace, right in front of everyone.

"Seriously, from the moment we walked down those old church steps together, a married couple, I should have seen that scarlet letter burning at the end of our path!"

"You know," said Hester - even though she was feeling down, she couldn't stand this final, quiet dig at the mark of her shame - "I was honest with you. I didn't feel love, and I didn't pretend to. "Yeah," he replied. "It was my fault. I said it."

But until that point in my life, I’d been living for nothing. The world felt so empty! My heart was big enough for tons of people, but it was lonely and cold, without any warmth. I wanted to feel something!

"It didn’t seem crazy - even though I was old, gloomy, and looked strange - that a little happiness, which is out there for everyone to grab, could be mine too. So, Hester, I pulled you into my heart, into its deepest place, and tried to warm myself with the warmth your presence created there!"

"I messed up badly," Hester murmured.

"We messed up," he said. "I started it, when I dragged you into this messed-up relationship with my fading life. So, as someone who’s actually thought about things, I’m not looking for revenge, I'm not plotting anything bad against you. We’re pretty even, Hester."

But, who’s the guy who did us both wrong?" "Don’t ask me!" replied Hester Prynne, staring him down. "You’ll never find out!" "Never?" he asked, a sly, confident smile on his face. "Never know him?

Trust me, Hester, there aren’t many things - whether it’s in the real world or in your own head - that someone can’t figure out if they really put their mind to it. You can hide it from everyone else.

You can keep it from the ministers and judges, just like you did today when they tried to pry the name out of you and give you a partner on your platform. But, I've got a different way of looking at things. I'll find him, like I've hunted for truth in books, like I've chased gold in alchemy.

There's a feeling that will let me know he's out there. I'll see him shake. I'll feel a sudden chill. Sooner or later, he's going to be mine! The scholar's eyes were burning into her, and Hester Prynne pressed her hands to her heart, terrified he’d read her secret right then and there."

"You won’t reveal his name? It doesn’t matter, he’s mine," he repeated, with a confident look, like destiny was totally on his side. "He doesn’t wear a mark of shame, unlike you; but I’ll read it on his heart. But don’t worry about him!"

"Don’t think I’ll mess with Heaven’s plan, or hand him over to the law to my own detriment. And don’t you think I’ll scheme against his life, or even his reputation, if he’s a man of good standing. Let him live! Let him hide in outward respectability, if he can! Still, he’s mine!"

"Your actions seem like mercy," said Hester, totally confused and freaked out. "But your words make you sound terrifying! "There’s one thing, my former wife, I need you to do," the scholar continued. "You’ve kept the secret of your lover. Keep mine too! Nobody in this country knows me."

I won’t tell anyone you were ever my wife. I’ll set up camp here on this remote edge of the world. As a wanderer, isolated from the everyday, I’m finding a woman, a man, a child - and I feel a deep connection with all of us. Whether it’s love or hate, right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!

"You and your son belong to me. My home is wherever you are, and where he is. But don't betray me!" "Why do you want this?" Hester asked, pulling away - she wasn't sure why. "Why not just announce yourself and ditch me already?"

"It could be," he replied, "because I’m not gonna deal with the embarrassment of being married to someone who’s cheated. Or maybe it's something else. Whatever. My plan is to live and die without anyone even knowing I existed."

So, basically, act like your husband is already gone, like no one will ever hear from him again. Don’t acknowledge me - not with words, gestures, or even a look! And seriously, don’t breathe a word of this, especially to the guy you know. If you mess this up, just know I'm calling the shots.

His reputation, his job, his whole life - it's all in my hands. Don't even think about it! I’ll keep your secret, just like I’ve kept his, said Hester. You swear it! he rejoined. And she took the oath.

"And now, Mistress Prynne," said old Roger Chillingworth, as he was going to be known from then on, "I’m leaving you. Alone with your baby and that scarlet letter! So, how is it, Hester? Does your sentence make you wear it even when you’re sleeping?"

"Aren’t you worried about bad dreams and creepy nightmares? "Why are you smiling at me like that?" inquired Hester, feeling weirded out by the look in his eyes. "Are you like the Black Man who hangs around the forest? Did you trick me into a deal that’s gonna ruin my soul?"

"Not your soul," he answered, with another smile. "No, not yours!"