He came in--he advanced to my side--he stood before me! I turned over a book nervously--glanced once at him--tried to command my voice to speak, but could not. Then he sat down beside me on my sofa. I drew away from him as far as I could, and waited for what he had to say. "Hester," he said, "this has lasted long enough. If we are to preserve our senses--if one of us at least--some period must be put to this torture. Are you satisfied yet with the penance you have exacted? Or how much more do you wish me to suffer? For I declare to you, I have almost passed the bounds of endurance--you will make me mad!" "I wish you to suffer nothing," said I. "I will keep my room; I will keep out of your sight, if it makes you mad to see me. I will go away, or else confine myself to my own apartments; I exact nothing; I only desire you to leave me at peace." "You will keep out of my sight if I will leave you at peace? That is a sweet compact, is it not?" he said, with vehemence and bitterness, and I could see that, at last, his patience had quite given way. "What do you mean, Hester? Have you any recollection how it is that we are related to each other--do you know what is the bond between us?" "Yes! we are in slavery," I said; "we belong to each other--we are united for ever. It is no use deceiving ourselves; we never can be any better--that is all I know." "And why can we never be any better?" he said, softening and growing gentle in his tone. "Unhappy and disturbed as I am, my fears do not go the length of that. I will not do you the injustice to suppose, that you will keep this delusion all your life. If you will retain it now, I appeal to your better judgment afterwards. But why should you retain it now, Hester? You are no happier for your revenge--I am no better for my punishment. It is now a long time since the offence was committed; look at it again, and see if it is equal to the penalty. Tell me, Hester, what have I done?" "You have deceived me," I said. "I told you nothing untrue of myself," he said, quietly. "I did not tell you all the truth. See how you have changed me already--a man cannot be at the bar so long without trying to justify himself. At first I was a penitent offender--but nothing but mercy can make repentance, Hester, and you have shown no mercy to me. What have I done to deserve all that you have inflicted upon me?" "You have deceived me," I repeated sullenly. He started up and made a few rapid strides through the room as if going away--but then he returned again. His temper, his self-command, his patience, could not bear any more--I saw that I had fairly roused him to strive with me. "Is this all you have to say, Hester?" he asked almost sternly. "Am I to hear this and only this rung in my ears continually--have you nothing but my first offence to urge against me--is this all?" "Yes," I said, "it is all, and I have nothing more to say."