Examine The Scarlet Letter as an open ended novel.
The authority that we have followed mainly, that is, a manuscript of very old date, written in view of the verbal testimony of several people, some of whom had met Ester Prynne, while others had heard their story from the lips of eyewitnesses, fully confirms the opinion adopted in the preceding pages. Among many moral conclusions that can be deduced from the painful experience of the poor minister, and that crowd our mind, we choose this: Be honest! Be sincere! Be sincere! Show the world, without ambiguity, if not the worst of your nature, at least some trait from which you can infer the worst!
There was nothing to call attention to as much as the change that took place almost immediately after the death of Mr. Dimmesdale, in the aspect and manner of being of the old man known as Rogerio Chillingworth. All his vigor and his energy, all his vital and intellectual strength, seemed to leave him once and for all, until the end that really was consumed, wrinkled, and even disappeared from the view of mortals, like a grass torn from the roots that dries up to the burning rays of the sun. This unhappy man had made the systematic prosecution and exercise of revenge the primordial object of his existence; and once the most complete triumph was obtained, the evil principle that animated him had no longer to be used, and there being no devilish work to be done on earth, there was nothing for the inhuman mortal to do but go to where his Master would provide him with enough homework, and reward him with the salary due. But we want to be clement with all those impalpable beings that for so long have been our acquaintances, the same with Rogerio Chillingworth as with his companions. It is a matter worth investigating to know to what extent hatred and love actually become the same thing. Each of these feelings, in its most complete development, presupposes a deep and intimate knowledge of the human heart; also each of these feelings presupposes that an individual depends on another for the satisfaction of their affections and their spiritual life; each one of those sensations leaves in the helplessness and the desolation the passionate lover or the hater no less passionate, from the moment in which the object of hatred or love disappears. Therefore, philosophically considered the two feelings we speak, come to be in its essence itself, except that love is contemplated in the light of a heavenly splendor, and hatred of the reflection of dark and gloomy flare. In the spiritual world, the old doctor and the young minister, both having been mutual victims, may have found the sum of their hatred and earthly antipathy transformed into love.
But leaving aside this discussion, we will communicate to the reader some news of another nature. Upon the death of the elderly Rogerio Chillingworth (which happened after a year), he was seen by his will and last will, of which Governors Bellingham and the Reverend Mr. Wilson, who had left a considerable fortune, both in the New England as in the motherland, Perlita, the daughter of Ester Prynne.
Accordingly Pearl, the pixie girl, the offspring of the devil as some people still persisted in considering her, became the richest heiress of her time in that part of the New Command; and probably this circumstance produced a very remarkable change in the public estimation, and if the mother and the daughter had remained in the population, little Pearl, when she reached the age of being able to marry, would have mixed her impetuous blood with that of the lineage of the most devout puritans of the colony. But not long after the death of the doctor, the scarlet letter carrier disappeared from the city and with it Perla.
For many years, although from time to time there used to be some vague rumors through the seas, no real news was received from the mother and the daughter. The history of the scarlet letter became a legend; the fascination he exercised remained powerful for a long time, and both the fateful stage and the cabin by the sea shore where Esther lived continued to be the subject of a certain respectful fear. Several children who played an afternoon near the aforementioned cabin, saw a tall woman, with a dark suit, at the door; it had not been opened even once in many years; but whether the woman opened it, or the door gave way to the pressure of her hand, because the wood and iron were in a state of decomposition, that is to say that she slipped like a ghost through any obstacle, the truth is that That woman entered the deserted and abandoned cabin