I see weird shapes: witches, Puritans, clergymen,
little children, judges, mesmerized maidens, moving to the sound of
melody that thrills me with its sweetness and purity. But,
although carried along its calm and evenly flowing current, the
shapes are strange and frightful: an eating lichen gnaws at the
heart of each. Not only the clergymen, but witch, maiden, judge,
and Puritan, all wear Scarlet Letters of some kind burned upon
their hearts. I am fascinated and thrilled, but I feel a morbid
sensitiveness creeping over me. I--I beg your pardon." The Goblin
was yawning frightfully. "Well, perhaps we had better go."
"One more, and the last," said the Goblin.
They were moving home. Streaks of red were beginning to appear in
the eastern sky. Along the banks of the blackly flowing river by
moorland and stagnant fens, by low houses, clustering close to the
water's edge, like strange mollusks, crawled upon the beach to dry;
by misty black barges, the more misty and indistinct seen through
its mysterious veil, the river fog was slowly rising. So rolled
away and rose from the heart of the Haunted Man, etc., etc.
They stopped before a quaint mansion of red brick.
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