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"
Welcome
,
"
repeated
the
fiend
worshippers
,
in
one
cry
of
despair
and
triumph
.
And
there
they
stood
,
the
only
pair
,
as
it
seemed
,
who
were
yet
hesitating
on
the
verge
of
wickedness
in
this
dark
world
.
A
basin
was
hollowed
,
naturally
,
in
the
rock
.
Did
it
contain
water
,
reddened
by
the
lurid
light
?
or
was
it
blood
?
or
,
perchance
,
a
liquid
flame
?
Herein
did
the
shape
of
evil
dip
his
hand
and
prepare
to
lay
the
mark
of
baptism
upon
their
foreheads
,
that
they
might
be
partakers
of
the
mystery
of
sin
,
more
conscious
of
the
secret
guilt
of
others
,
both
in
deed
and
thought
,
than
they
could
now
be
of
their
own
.
The
husband
cast
one
look
at
his
pale
wife
,
and
Faith
at
him
.
What
polluted
wretches
would
the
next
glance
show
them
to
each
other
,
shuddering
alike
at
what
they
disclosed
and
what
they
saw
!
"
Faith
!
Faith
!
"
cried
the
husband
,
"
look
up
to
heaven
,
and
resist
the
wicked
one
.
"
Whether
Faith
obeyed
he
knew
not
.
Hardly
had
he
spoken
when
he
found
himself
amid
calm
night
and
solitude
,
listening
to
a
roar
of
the
wind
which
died
heavily
away
through
the
forest
.
He
staggered
against
the
rock
,
and
felt
it
chill
and
damp
;
while
a
hanging
twig
,
that
had
been
all
on
fire
,
besprinkled
his
cheek
with
the
coldest
dew
.
The
next
morning
young
Goodman
Brown
came
slowly
into
the
street
of
Salem
village
,
staring
around
him
like
a
bewildered
man
.
The
good
old
minister
was
taking
a
walk
along
the
graveyard
to
get
an
appetite
for
breakfast
and
meditate
his
sermon
,
and
bestowed
a
blessing
,
as
he
passed
,
on
Goodman
Brown
.
He
shrank
from
the
venerable
saint
as
if
to
avoid
an
anathema
.
Old
Deacon
Gookin
was
at
domestic
worship
,
and
the
holy
words
of
his
prayer
were
heard
through
the
open
window
.
"
What
God
doth
the
wizard
pray
to
?
"
quoth
Goodman
Brown
.
Goody
Cloyse
,
that
excellent
old
Christian
,
stood
in
the
early
sunshine
at
her
own
lattice
,
catechizing
a
little
girl
who
had
brought
her
a
pint
of
morning
’
s
milk
.
Goodman
Brown
snatched
away
the
child
as
from
the
grasp
of
the
fiend
himself
.
Turning
the
corner
by
the
meeting
-
house
,
he
spied
the
head
of
Faith
,
with
the
pink
ribbons
,
gazing
anxiously
forth
,
and
bursting
into
such
joy
at
sight
of
him
that
she
skipped
along
the
street
and
almost
kissed
her
husband
before
the
whole
village
.
But
Goodman
Brown
looked
sternly
and
sadly
into
her
face
,
and
passed
on
without
a
greeting
.
Had
Goodman
Brown
fallen
asleep
in
the
forest
and
only
dreamed
a
wild
dream
of
a
witch
-
meeting
?
Be
it
so
if
you
will
;
but
,
alas
!
it
was
a
dream
of
evil
omen
for
young
Goodman
Brown
.
A
stern
,
a
sad
,
a
darkly
meditative
,
a
distrustful
,
if
not
a
desperate
man
did
he
become
from
the
night
of
that
fearful
dream
.
On
the
Sabbath
day
,
when
the
congregation
were
singing
a
holy
psalm
,
he
could
not
listen
because
an
anthem
of
sin
rushed
loudly
upon
his
ear
and
drowned
all
the
blessed
strain
.
When
the
minister
spoke
from
the
pulpit
with
power
and
fervid
eloquence
,
and
,
with
his
hand
on
the
open
Bible
,
of
the
sacred
truths
of
our
religion
,
and
of
saint
-
like
lives
and
triumphant
deaths
,
and
of
future
bliss
or
misery
unutterable
,
then
did
Goodman
Brown
turn
pale
,
dreading
lest
the
roof
should
thunder
down
upon
the
gray
blasphemer
and
his
hearers
.
Often
,
waking
suddenly
at
midnight
,
he
shrank
from
the
bosom
of
Faith
;
and
at
morning
or
eventide
,
when
the
family
knelt
down
at
prayer
,
he
scowled
and
muttered
to
himself
,
and
gazed
sternly
at
his
wife
,
and
turned
away
And
when
he
had
lived
long
,
and
was
borne
to
his
grave
a
hoary
corpse
,
followed
by
Faith
,
an
aged
woman
,
and
children
and
grandchildren
,
a
goodly
procession
,
besides
neighbors
not
a
few
,
they
carved
no
hopeful
verse
upon
his
tombstone
,
for
his
dying
hour
was
gloom
.
