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                                TWICE…TOLD TALES

                                 THE BIRTHMARK

                             by Nathaniel Hawthorne



   IN THE LATTER PART of the last century; there lived a man of

science… an eminent proficient in every branch of natural

philosophy… who; not long before our story opens; had made

experience of a spiritual affinity; more attractive than any

chemical one。 He had left his laboratory to the care of an

assistant; cleared his fine countenance from the furnace…smoke; washed

the stain of acids from his fingers; and persuaded a beautiful woman

to become his wife。 In those days; when the comparatively recent

discovery of electricity; and other kindred mysteries of nature;

seemed to open paths into the region of miracle; it was not unusual

for the love of science to rival the love of woman; in its depth and

absorbing energy。 The higher intellect; the imagination; the spirit;

and even the heart; might all find their congenial aliment in pursuits

which; as some of their ardent votaries believed; would ascend from

one step of powerful intelligence to another; until the philosopher

should lay his hand on the secret of creative force; and perhaps

make new worlds for himself。 We know not whether Aylmer possessed this

degree of faith in man's ultimate control over nature。 He had

devoted himself; however; too unreservedly to scientific studies; ever

to be weaned from them by any second passion。 His love for his young

wife might prove the stronger of the two; but it could only be by

intertwining itself with his love of science; and uniting the strength

of the latter to its own。

   Such an union accordingly took place; and was attended with truly

remarkable consequences; and a deeply impressive moral。 One day;

very soon after their marriage; Aylmer sat gazing at his wife; with

a trouble in his countenance that grew stronger; until he spoke。

   〃Georgiana;〃 said he; 〃has it never occurred to you that the mark

upon your cheek might be removed?〃

   〃No; indeed; said she; smiling; but perceiving the seriousness of

his manner; she blushed deeply。 〃To tell you the truth; it has been so

often called a charm; that I was simple enough to imagine it might

be so。〃

   〃Ah; upon another face; perhaps it might;〃 replied her husband。

〃But never on yours! No; dearest Georgiana; you came so nearly perfect

from the hand of Nature; that this slightest possible defect… which we

hesitate whether to term a defect or a beauty… shocks me; as being the

visible mark of earthly imperfection。〃

   〃Shocks you; my husband!〃 cried Georgiana; deeply hurt; at first

reddening with momentary anger; but then bursting into tears。 〃Then

why did you take me from my mother's side? You cannot love what shocks

you!〃

   To explain this conversation; it must be mentioned; that; in the

centre of Georgiana's left cheek; there was a singular mark; deeply

interwoven; as it were; with the texture and substance of her face。 In

the usual state of her complexion… a healthy; though delicate bloom…

the mark wore a tint of deeper crimson; which imperfectly defined

its shape amid the surrounding rosiness。 When she blushed; it

gradually became more indistinct; and finally vanished amid the

triumphant rush of blood; that bathed the whole cheek with its

brilliant glow。 But; if any shifting emotion caused her to turn

pale; there was the mark again; a crimson stain upon the snow; in what

Aylmer sometimes deemed an almost fearful distinctness。 Its shape bore

not a little similarity to the human hand; though of the smallest

pigmy size。 Georgiana's lovers were wont to say; that some fairy; at

her birth…hour; had laid her tiny hand upon the infant's cheek; and

left this impress there; in token of the magic endowments that were to

give her such sway over all hearts。 Many a desperate swain would

have risked life for the privilege of pressing his lips to the

mysterious hand。 It must not be concealed; however; that the

impression wrought by this fairy sign…manual varied exceedingly;

according to the difference of temperament in the beholders。 Some

fastidious persons… but they were exclusively of her own sex… affirmed

that the Bloody Hand; as they chose to call it; quite destroyed the

effect of Georgiana's beauty; and rendered her countenance even

hideous。 But it would be as reasonable to say; that one of those small

blue stains; which sometimes occur in the purest statuary marble;

would convert the Eve of Powers to a monster。 Masculine observers;

if the birthmark did not heighten their admiration; contented

themselves with wishing it away; that the world might possess one

living specimen of ideal loveliness; without the semblance of a

flaw。 After his marriage… for he thought little or nothing of the

matter before… Aylmer discovered that this was the case with himself。

   Had she been less beautiful… if Envy's self could have found

aught else to sneer at… he might have felt his affection heightened by

the prettiness of this mimic hand; now vaguely portrayed; now lost;

now stealing forth again; and glimmering to and fro with every pulse

of emotion that throbbed within her heart。 But; seeing her otherwise

so perfect; he found this one defect grow more and more intolerable;

with every moment of their united lives。 It was the fatal flaw of

humanity; which Nature; in one shape or another; stamps ineffaceably

on all her productions; either to imply that they are temporary and

finite; or that their perfection must be wrought by toil and pain。 The

Crimson Hand expressed the ineludible gripe; in which mortality

clutches the highest and purest of earthly mould; degrading them

into kindred with the lowest; and even with the very brutes; like whom

their visible frames return to dust。 In this manner; selecting it as

the symbol of his wife's liability to sin; sorrow; decay; and death;

Aylmer's sombre imagination was not long in rendering the birthmark

a frightful object; causing him more trouble and horror than ever

Georgiana's beauty; whether of soul or sense; had given him delight。

   At all the seasons which should have been their happiest; he

invariably; and without intending it… nay; in spite of a purpose to

the contrary… reverted to this one disastrous topic。 Trifling as it at

first appeared; it so connected itself with innumerable trains of

thought; and modes of feeling; that it became the central point of

all。 With the morning twilight; Aylmer opened his eyes upon his wife's

face; and recognized the symbol of imperfection; and when they sat

together at the evening hearth; his eyes wandered stealthily to her

cheek; and beheld; flickering with the blaze of the wood fire; the

spectral Hand that wrote mortality where he would fain have

worshipped。 Georgiana soon learned to shudder at his gaze。 It needed

but a glance; with the peculiar expression that his face often wore;

to change the roses of her cheek into a death…like paleness; amid

which the Crimson Hand was brought strongly out; like a bas…relief

of ruby on the whitest marble。

   Late; one night; when the lights were growing dim; so as hardly

to betray the stain on the poor wife's cheek; she herself; for the

first time; voluntarily took up the subject。

   〃Do you remember; my dear Aylmer;〃 said she; with a feeble

attempt at a smile… 〃have you any recollection of a dream; last night;

about this odious Hand?〃

   〃None! none whatever!〃 replied Aylmer; starting; but then he

added in a dry; cold tone; affected for the sake of concealing the

real depth of his emotion: 〃I might well dream of it; for; before I

fell asleep; it had taken a pretty firm hold of my fancy。〃

   〃And you did dream of it;〃 continued Georgiana; hastily; for she

dreaded lest a gush of tears should interrupt what she had to say…

〃A terrible dream! I wonder that you can forget it。 Is it possible

to forget this one expression? 'It is in her heart now… we must have

it out!' Reflect; my husband; for by all means I would have you recall

that dream。〃

   The mind is in a sad state; when Sleep; the all…involving; cannot

confi

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