We haven’t really talked about the baby yet—the little one whose innocent life had somehow sprung from Hester’s mistake, like a beautiful flower growing in a patch of weeds. It was so strange to Hester as she watched the child grow, with more and more beauty every day, and an intelligence that seemed to light up her tiny face. Her Pearl! That’s what Hester called her—not because the baby’s appearance was calm or pure like a pearl, but because she was priceless to her mother. Pearl was Hester’s only treasure, bought with everything she had.
It was such an odd situation. The townspeople had marked Hester’s sin with a scarlet letter, a symbol that made it impossible for anyone to show her sympathy, unless they were sinners themselves. But despite all that, God had given her a beautiful child, someone who would forever connect her to the world and who might one day be in heaven. Hester couldn’t help but feel both hope and fear. She knew her actions had been wrong, so she didn’t really believe anything good could come from them. Each day, she watched Pearl grow and worried that she might see some dark trait in the child that would link her to the same guilt that had caused her to be born.
Physically, though, there was nothing wrong with Pearl. She was perfectly healthy, strong, and graceful, like she was meant to be in paradise, playing with angels. The little girl had a natural beauty that didn’t always match up with her perfect looks. Even in simple clothes, Pearl always looked like she was wearing exactly what she should. But Pearl wasn’t dressed in basic, plain clothes. Hester, with a troubled purpose, had bought the finest fabrics she could find, and spent a lot of time making Pearl’s outfits stand out. When Pearl wore them, she looked so amazing, glowing with beauty, that she almost seemed to shine on the dark cottage floor. But when Pearl wore a simple, torn, and dirty dress from playing outside, she still looked just as perfect.
Pearl’s look seemed to change all the time. Sometimes she looked like a sweet country girl, and other times like a little princess. But no matter what, there was always a hint of passion, a certain spark in her that never went away. If she had ever become quieter or paler, she wouldn’t have been Pearl anymore.
The way Pearl seemed to change so easily on the outside matched what was going on inside her, too. She seemed to have a lot of different layers to her personality—like there was more to her than what people could see—but Hester couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Maybe it was because of the way Pearl came into the world, or maybe Hester was just scared, but it felt like Pearl couldn’t fit into the normal rules of life. The big mistake Hester had made in bringing her into the world had created a child who was wild and free, maybe beautiful in her own way, but impossible to control or predict. Pearl’s behavior seemed to follow its own chaotic pattern, and Hester couldn’t make sense of it.
Hester tried to understand Pearl’s personality by looking at her own past. She thought about how she had felt while she was pregnant, going through all her own inner turmoil, and how that must have affected Pearl before she was even born. Hester’s emotions—her anger, her passion, her guilt—had likely been passed on to Pearl, coloring the child’s soul. The child was full of life, but also of confusion and unpredictability. Hester could see bits of herself in Pearl—her fiery mood, her restlessness, even the sadness that had haunted Hester during that time. Those traits showed in Pearl, but wrapped up in the carefree, innocent nature of a child. Still, Hester couldn’t help but wonder if, as Pearl grew older, those same emotions would turn into storms.
Back then, family discipline was much stricter than it is today. Parents used to punish their children with frowns, harsh words, and sometimes physical punishment, all in the name of teaching them virtues. Hester, as a single mother, didn’t want to be too harsh with Pearl. She knew what it was like to make mistakes, so she tried to be strict, but also gentle. However, no matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to work. Whether she smiled or frowned at Pearl, it didn’t make much of a difference. Eventually, Hester had to give up trying to control Pearl and let her follow her own instincts. Physical punishment worked, but nothing else seemed to have any effect on Pearl’s behavior. Hester learned to recognize a certain look in Pearl’s eyes that told her it was pointless to try and convince her of anything. The look was smart but confusing, sometimes even mischievous, and always came with a burst of energy that made Hester wonder if Pearl was even a normal child. In those moments, it felt like Pearl wasn’t really a person, but more like a little fairy that would vanish into thin air at any moment, like a bright light that fades away. Whenever Pearl gave Hester that look, Hester couldn’t help but grab her and hold her close, kissing her, trying to make sure that Pearl was real, and not just a figment of her imagination. But Pearl’s laughter, full of joy, made Hester wonder even more if Pearl was truly human.
Hester often felt completely overwhelmed by the way Pearl’s moods seemed to change out of nowhere, especially when she was upset. Sometimes, Hester would cry out of frustration, but Pearl’s response was unpredictable. She might frown, clench her tiny fists, and look at Hester with a stern expression that seemed to say she didn’t care. Other times, Pearl would laugh even louder, as if she didn’t understand the sadness around her at all. Once in a while, Pearl would cry and say she loved her mom, as though trying to prove she had a heart by breaking it. But Hester could never rely on those moments of tenderness, because they would disappear just as quickly as they came. Hester felt like she had unintentionally called out something she couldn’t control, like trying to summon a spirit but not knowing the right words to keep it in check. The only time Hester felt truly at peace was when Pearl was asleep. In those moments, she would rest and enjoy a few hours of quiet happiness—until Pearl woke up, sometimes with that same mischievous look in her eyes.
Pearl grew up fast, much faster than Hester had expected. Before long, Pearl was old enough to interact with other kids, but Hester could never hear her sweet, bird-like voice mingling with the chatter of other children. Pearl could never be a part of their world. She was always seen as different—an outsider, marked by the shame of her mother’s sins. It was like Pearl knew this, somehow, and accepted it. She understood that she was set apart from the other children, and she felt the isolation in her own way. Since the day Hester had been released from prison, Pearl had never been without her. Whether Hester was walking through the town or just going about her day, Pearl was always with her, either in her arms or holding her hand and walking beside her. Pearl watched the other children, playing their games, but she never tried to join in. If the kids tried to talk to her, she would ignore them. If they came too close, Pearl would get angry, sometimes throwing stones at them and shouting words that made Hester nervous, because they sounded like curses in a strange language.
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The truth was, the other Puritan kids didn’t understand Pearl and Hester. They saw them as different, even unnatural, and treated them like outsiders. They couldn’t help but judge them. Pearl could feel that judgment, and in return, she hated them. This anger, though, sometimes gave Hester a bit of comfort, because at least Pearl’s emotions were strong and clear. But it also scared her, because she could see that this same anger had been passed down from her—she had passed on her own pain and bitterness to Pearl. Both of them, mother and daughter, stood in their own isolated world, separate from the rest of society. And in Pearl’s fiery temper, Hester could see a reflection of the inner struggles she had faced before Pearl was born, struggles that had softened with time and motherhood.
At home, around her mother’s cottage, Pearl didn’t care about having a lot of friends or being part of a big group. Instead, her imagination was like a spark that could turn anything into something special. Whether it was a stick, some rags, or a flower, Pearl would bring them to life in her mind, using them as characters in the stories she created. These objects didn’t change physically, but in Pearl’s mind, they became part of whatever drama she was imagining. Her one little voice was used for a whole cast of characters, both old and young, and she would talk to them like they were real. The old pine trees, dark and sad, would become Puritan elders, while the weeds in the garden were their children, whom Pearl would destroy with no mercy. It was amazing how Pearl’s mind could transform everything around her, creating an endless flow of new stories and ideas. It was like watching a fast-paced, magical show, constantly changing and never slowing down. It was almost like the northern lights—beautiful, but fleeting. While this kind of imagination might seem normal for a child, what was different about Pearl was how she never made friends from her imagination. Instead, the things she created were always enemies, like the seeds of a battle, which she would fight with all her energy. It was heartbreaking, especially for Hester, who felt the pain of it deep inside.
Watching Pearl, Hester would sometimes stop what she was doing and cry out, feeling a deep sorrow she didn’t want to show. “Oh, Father in Heaven, if You’re still my Father, what have I brought into this world?” And Pearl, hearing her mother’s distress or sensing it in some way, would just look up, smile, and go back to her game, unaware of the hurt she caused.
There was something really strange about how Pearl acted that needs to be mentioned. The very first thing she noticed when she was born wasn’t her mother’s smile, like most babies. Most babies smile when they see their mom’s face, but Pearl? She didn’t do that. The first thing that caught her attention was something else—can we say it?—it was the scarlet letter on Hester’s chest. One day, as Hester bent over the crib, Pearl’s eyes landed on the shiny gold thread around the letter. She reached out with her tiny hand and grabbed it, smiling not in a little, unsure way, but with a big, grown-up kind of smile. The look on her face made her seem like an older child. Hester, feeling a sharp pain in her chest, quickly grabbed the scarlet letter, trying to pull it away from Pearl’s hand. The touch of Pearl’s tiny fingers seemed to cause so much pain. But Pearl, almost like she was having fun with it, looked at her mother, smiled, and kept playing. From that moment on, Hester never felt safe around Pearl, except when the little girl was asleep. Sometimes, days would go by without Pearl noticing the scarlet letter, but it always came back unexpectedly, like a sudden blow. Every time, Pearl would smile that strange smile and look at her mother in a way that made Hester feel uneasy.
Once, Hester was looking into Pearl’s eyes, like mothers do when they gaze at their children, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something strange in them. Women who are alone with troubled hearts sometimes see things that aren’t really there. Hester thought she saw a different face in Pearl’s eyes—like a devilish grin that looked almost familiar, but with a kind of evil she’d never seen in that face before. It was like an evil spirit was briefly taking over the child, mocking her. Hester was haunted by this vision again and again, though it didn’t feel as intense after that first time.
One summer afternoon, after Pearl was big enough to run around, she would gather wildflowers and throw them at her mother’s chest, hitting the scarlet letter with every throw. At first, Hester wanted to cover it up with her hands, but she didn’t. Maybe out of pride, or maybe because she felt like enduring this pain was the way to truly repent. Instead, she sat still, pale and sad, while Pearl kept throwing flowers, each one hitting its mark and adding to the pain Hester couldn’t escape. When Pearl ran out of flowers, she stood still and stared at Hester, her eyes wild, with that devilish look in them again.
“Child, what are you doing?” Hester asked.
“I’m your little Pearl!” the child replied, laughing and dancing around like a little imp, ready for her next trick.
“Are you really my child?” Hester asked, unable to shake the strange feeling.
Hester didn’t ask that question just for fun. For a moment, she was serious, because Pearl was so smart that Hester almost wondered if she knew the secret of her existence—and if, just maybe, she might be ready to tell the truth.
“Yes, I am little Pearl!” the child repeated, still jumping around.
“You’re not my child! You’re not any Pearl of mine!” Hester said, half-joking, since sometimes, even in her deepest pain, she’d feel playful. “Then tell me, what are you? And who sent you here?”
“Tell me, mother!” the child said seriously, running up to Hester and pressing against her knees. “You tell me!”
“Your Heavenly Father sent you,” Hester replied.
But the way she said it made the child notice. Whether Pearl was just being her usual mischievous self or something darker was at play, she pointed her tiny finger at Hester’s scarlet letter.
“He didn’t send me!” Pearl said, sounding sure of herself. “I don’t have a Heavenly Father!”
“Hush, Pearl! You mustn’t say such things!” Hester replied, holding back a groan. “He sent us all into this world. He even sent me, your mother. So, of course, He sent you too! Or, if not, you strange little child, where did you come from?”
“Tell me! Tell me!” Pearl repeated, now laughing and skipping around the room. “You’re the one who has to tell me!”
But Hester couldn’t answer, because she was just as lost in confusion. She remembered, with a mix of a smile and a shudder, the gossip from the townspeople. They couldn’t figure out who Pearl’s father was, and since Pearl was so strange, they started to say that she was some sort of demon child. They thought her mother’s sin had somehow brought her into the world, to cause trouble and mischief. It was even said that Luther, the famous preacher, was supposedly the product of something similar, according to his enemies. And in the small Puritan towns of New England, Pearl wasn’t the only one with such rumors surrounding her birth.