One day, Hester Prynne went to Governor Bellingham’s house to deliver a pair of gloves she had embroidered and fringed for him. The gloves were meant for a big public event, and even though the governor’s political power had dropped a little after losing an election, he still held an important position in the colony.
However, Hester wasn’t just going there for the gloves. There was a much bigger reason she needed to talk to him. She had heard that some of the town’s more strict leaders, who cared a lot about religion and government, were trying to take her daughter Pearl away from her. They believed that Pearl might be the child of a demon, and they thought that taking her away would help Hester find salvation and clear her path. On the other hand, if they believed Pearl could grow up to be a good Christian, they thought she’d be better off with more responsible guardians than Hester. Among those pushing for this plan, Governor Bellingham was said to be one of the most active. It might seem a bit strange that something like this, which today would be handled by local officials, was being debated by the town's top leaders. Back then, though, even the smallest issues seemed to get mixed up with the decisions of big politicians, like the time when a fight over a pig’s ownership led to changes in the colony's laws.
So, with a heavy heart but a strong sense of what was right, Hester set off from her cottage, determined to stand up for herself and her child. Pearl, of course, was with her. The child was old enough now to run alongside her mother, and, always full of energy, she could have easily traveled a much longer distance. Still, sometimes, just for fun, she would demand to be carried, only to insist on being set down again shortly after. She would run ahead, laughing and tripping along the way. Pearl had a striking beauty, with deep, glowing eyes, dark brown hair, and skin that was full of life. Hester had dressed her in a bright crimson velvet tunic, covered in gold embroidery and intricate patterns. The bold colors were perfect for Pearl, making her look like a tiny spark of fire, lighting up everything around her.
What stood out most about Pearl’s outfit—and really, her whole look—was how much it reminded everyone of the scarlet letter that Hester Prynne was forced to wear on her chest. Pearl’s appearance was like the scarlet letter brought to life! Hester herself had intentionally made the connection, spending hours trying to make the child’s look match the symbol of her shame and suffering. But in reality, Pearl was both the symbol of Hester’s guilt and a living, breathing reminder of it. That’s why Hester had dressed her so carefully, to make the connection so clear.
As Hester and Pearl entered the town, the Puritan children stopped playing—though their version of play wasn’t exactly fun—and stared. They whispered to each other: “Look, that’s the woman with the scarlet letter! And there’s the scarlet letter’s twin, walking beside her! Let’s throw mud at them!”
But Pearl wasn’t scared. She glared at them, stamped her foot, and waved her tiny fist, making all sorts of threatening gestures. Then she rushed at the group, chasing them away. In that moment, she looked like a little judge, sent to punish the sins of the younger kids. She yelled loudly, so loudly that it probably made the other kids’ hearts race. Once she chased them off, Pearl went back to her mom and smiled up at her.
With no more problems along the way, Hester and Pearl finally reached Governor Bellingham’s house. It was a big wooden house, built in an old style still seen in some of the older towns today. Over time, these houses often become worn and sad, their history hidden behind cracked walls. But back then, the house looked fresh and bright, with sunlight shining through its windows, making it feel warm and welcoming. It was like the house had never known sorrow. The walls were covered in a stucco that had pieces of broken glass mixed into it. When the sun hit it, the house sparkled like it was covered in diamonds. It looked more like a magical palace than the home of a serious Puritan governor. The walls even had strange designs and symbols drawn into them, a quirky decoration from that time, meant to be admired for generations.
When Pearl saw the shiny house, she started dancing around, demanding that the sunshine shining on it be given to her so she could play with it.
“No, Pearl!” Hester said. “You have to find your own sunshine. I don’t have any to give you!”
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They walked up to the door, which was shaped like an arch and had narrow towers on each side. The towers had lattice windows with wooden shutters that could be closed when needed. Hester Prynne lifted the heavy iron knocker on the door and gave it a firm knock. A servant—an Englishman who was now a seven-year slave—answered. He had been sentenced to work for the Governor for seven years and was treated as property, no different from a piece of furniture or an animal. He wore the usual blue coat of servants from that time.
“Is Governor Bellingham here?” Hester asked.
“Yeah, he’s here,” the servant answered, staring at the scarlet letter on her chest. He had never seen one before. “But he’s with a couple of ministers and a doctor. You can’t see him now.”
Hester replied, “I’ll go in anyway.” The servant, seeing her confident attitude and the powerful symbol on her chest, figured she must be an important person and didn’t stop her.
So, Hester and little Pearl were let into the entrance hall. Governor Bellingham’s house was designed like a grand English home, with a wide and tall hall stretching from one end of the house to the other. The hall was lit by windows from two towers at one end and by a large, deep window on the other side. The window had a cushioned seat where a big, old book—likely a history of England—was left open, like how we sometimes leave fancy books out for guests today. The furniture in the hall was heavy, made from dark wood, with carved oak flowers on the backs of chairs, and a matching table. These were old heirlooms from the Governor’s family, passed down from England. On the table was a large pewter mug, still with a bit of ale left at the bottom, showing that the Governor had just had a drink.
The walls of the hall were lined with portraits of the Governor’s ancestors. Some wore armor, while others were dressed in formal robes. All of them had the same serious, stern expressions that old portraits often have, as if they were watching the living with judgmental eyes, judging how modern people lived.
In the middle of the oak-paneled walls of the hall, there was a suit of armor hanging—not an old family heirloom like the portraits, but a more modern one. It had been made by a skilled armorer in London the same year Governor Bellingham moved to New England. The armor included a shiny steel helmet, breastplate, throat guard, leg armor, and gloves, with a sword hanging beneath. The helmet and breastplate were so polished that they glowed, reflecting light all around the room. This armor wasn’t just for display—it had been worn by the Governor during military trainings and even in the Pequod war. Although he had trained as a lawyer and usually discussed law with other professionals, the challenges of this new country had turned him into not just a politician, but also a soldier.
Little Pearl, who loved anything shiny, was fascinated by the gleaming armor. She spent a lot of time staring at her reflection in the polished surface of the breastplate.
“Mom! Look! I see you!” she exclaimed.
Hester glanced at the reflection to humor her daughter and saw, due to the curved shape of the breastplate, that her scarlet letter was exaggerated to a massive size in the mirror, almost completely overshadowing her. In fact, she seemed almost invisible behind the giant letter. Pearl, with her usual mischievous grin, pointed at the reflection in the helmet too. The way she smiled made Hester feel like the image in the mirror was more of a little imp pretending to be Pearl than her actual daughter.
“Come on, Pearl,” Hester said, trying to distract her. “Let’s go look at the garden. Maybe we’ll find prettier flowers than the ones in the woods.”
Pearl eagerly ran to the large window at the other end of the hall and gazed out at the garden. The grass was neatly cut, but the plants were still in the early stages of growth and looked a little wild. The Governor’s attempt at creating an English-style garden had clearly been abandoned, probably because it was too hard to maintain in New England’s soil. In plain view, there were cabbages growing, and a pumpkin vine had sprawled across the garden, dropping one of its huge pumpkins right under the window as if to remind the Governor that this was about as fancy as the land could get. There were some rose bushes and apple trees, possibly descendants of those planted by the first settler of the area, Reverend Mr. Blackstone, a nearly mythical figure who was said to have ridden into history on a bull.
When Pearl saw the roses, she immediately started crying for a red one and wouldn’t stop.
“Hush, Pearl, please!” her mother pleaded. “Don’t cry, sweetheart! I hear voices outside. The Governor is coming, and there are other men with him!”
Sure enough, Hester could see several people walking down the garden path toward the house. Pearl, ignoring her mother’s attempt to calm her down, let out a strange, loud scream. Then, she went quiet, not because she was obeying, but because her curiosity was piqued by the appearance of the new people.