For the next couple of weeks, they fell into a comfortable routine. Hester had been alone most of her time in New England, and that suited her nature well, but she felt for the first time in a year that she had truly found a friend.

Her hat band project was nearly done for him, so she had intentionally slowed her pace in the event their time together ended once it was complete. She put in the final switches as he picked him his papers, straightened them into a nice pile, and cleared his throat to practise his sermon.

“Today, I will discuss with thee: holiness. Life is not easy for a saint; sin lurks in every shadow. Good works do not unto themselves obtain salvation. We then should live our lives in holiness not for eternal salvation, but rather for the general good of the covenanted community.”

“Oh!” she spoke up, and Dimmesdale looked at her. “Yes! Thou art good with thy words. I have oft wondered if mine heart felt guilt, would charity help not only me but to help others for it is right to do.”

“Thy heart feels guilty?” he pressed.

She nodded slowly. “Please, do not ask more of the sins of my thoughts. My thoughts have me doubt my own goodness, that I know not what to do if my goodness is in doubt, if my love of God should also be in doubt. What dost thou do in moments of weakness? Dost thou have such moments?”

He sat down next to her. “I am a man, as other men. I feel the same weaknesses but do all in my power to fight those urges that turn me from our Lord.”

“What are thy weaknesses? Thy urges?” she asked.

“The same all men have,” he said evasively. “So I doubt, as all doubt at some moments. When I doubt mine, I know God created people and they are good inside, so I comfort the ill, feed the hungry, and give to those in need what I have. Even if I get no thanks, I do it, to be closer to God's own image. Even when I feel all alone in the world, I do right because I must."

“I shall follow thy lead,” she said. She had been blessed and more fortunate than many. She knew she could do more for good for the sake of doing good on its own. She was inspired by him, perhaps able to listen more intently because she could sew simultaneously. Or perhaps Dimmesdale’s passion was more inspirational to her than the previous reverends had been.

Sitting in the wooden chair next to hers, there was a moment of silence, and there was a slight lean in from him, the way someone who is comfortable and familiar with someone would lean. Hester started to lean in as well despite her better judgement and looked down to catch herself. She looked at his soft lips before looking at her project.

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"Reverend, the new band for your hat," Hester said proudly. She took the hat from where it sat the table and attached the band around it. "What does thou sayeth?"

"Beautiful," Dimmesdale said, looking at her then looking down. He took coins from his pocket and handed them to her. "I thank ye kindly for thy delicate craft and will fondly wear it.” He stroked at the band. “Mistress Prynne, thou art done with my commission, but dost thou like working here one morning a week? In truth...in truth, I enjoy a keen ear and company while I write and review my workings."

“Oh, yes,” Hester said quickly. “I enjoy thy company as well. I will still come. Mr. Dimmesdale, can I ask thou an intimate question?”

“Yes.”

“Why did thee become minister?”

He looked towards the fireplace, the light casting a shadow on his cheek. “I do not know if I thought about it, or as a child I always knew I would devote myself to God and spreading His word. There is no other calling for me. I feel I know what dost God think and what He does smite and what He marks as sin, and I guide His will with mine own steady hand.”

“Thou art a learned man, a passionate man, and many are learning thee hath true devotion in thy heart. People admire thy love. People see the love thou hath, and how it gives thee strength,” Hester said. “Thee inspire thy followers.”

“And thee?”

“Aye,” she said, feeling breathless. “Thou inspires me.”

He took her hand. “Tis good. Thy words inspire my words. My work is better when I share it with thee.”

The days were growing shorter as winter neared. She was aware their sessions were also shortening, at the mercy of the light. Winter was harsh, moreso in Boston than anywhere she had been before. She vexed her mind, looking for excuses to linger in his presence. She had to leave at sunset before the light was gone and she couldn't find her way.

He walked her to the door.

“Mr. Dimmesdale,” she started. She tugged at her white lace collar. She was at a loss of words. There was so much she wanted to say but could not.

He leaned forward. “Aye, Mistress?”

“I bear the same weaknesses as other women,” she said after a moment. “I want to be a good Christian, but there are things I did as a married woman that I cannot do now. How can I seek thy holiness and repress those physical desires for which I grew accustomed?”

“Oh.” He blushed. “I know not how to answer. Let me read more on the subject and let thee know my thoughts at our next discussion,” he said.

“Indeed, I pray thee do,” she said, before the hour was late and she had to depart.