The Revenge of Mr. Dimmsdale

Mr. Dimmsdale heard his brother clergyman praying at the bedside of some dying man, and so he had. The reverent Father Wilson was moving homeward with a lighted lantern. He thought that the doom of his existence was stealing onward in the footsteps which he now heard. But then there came a little glimmering light approaching up the street. It threw a gleam of recognition on here a post and there a garden fence. Here again an arch-door of oak with an iron-knocker and a rough log for the doorstep. A good evening to you, venerable Father Wilson. Come up hither, I pray you, and pass a pleasant hour with me

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