Before the Scarlet Letter

The Vow

A brisk wind played with the bare, seemingly dead branches of the trees that surrounded the manor, causing them to groan and bend. The young woman sat once again with her needlework, however this time she sat amongst the foliage; bristly bushes that had survived the cold English winter, and tanned grasses that waved in the breeze. Hester created a nest amongst the grasses. Her long skirts fanned away from her body in ripples upon the ground, in the fashion of the wake that trails behind a mighty vessel that sails for India or China or South America; a crimson stream of materials falling from her shoulders and bodice mingled with her dark tresses that had tumbled from their place upon her crown as soon as she drank in the crisp air of the morning. The garden was filled with the bleakness of late winter, and Hester remained a pinprick of scarlet life among the withered botany. Alone, yet as a companion to the natural world, where silence flees from the breath of wind and the sleeping trees dream and move about their lumbery limbs. Her mind could not fathom how her somber husband could enjoy the silence of his books, the weak turn of a page alone greeting the weary ear, hour after hour until the sun had once again disappeared, refusing to cast it's radiance upon his pale cheek. But to Hester, she greeted the sunshine as a long lost friend, or perhaps her only friend, knowing that the garden would be the solitaire place of warmth and solace.

On this day, the sickly sun remained hidden behind lumps of thick clouds that lingered in the sky, reminding all of nature that England was still held fast in the strangling grip of winter. Hester had attempted to push through the present gloom toward the idea of future merriment. The thought of Roger Prynne allowing his young wife to journey into the New World, where the forest grew wild and the flowers flourished without the taming hand of man, manifested in Hester's mind and to her bewilderment, swelled with the passing days. The New World was a place where rumored savages destroy even the most ornate English settlements, washing away the disturbed earth in a wave of blood, no place for a husband and his young wife.... and children, she feared. Although she witnessed Master Prynne comply to her desperate request of venturing to the New World, she had considered that he spoke such words only to console her at the present time, although she tried to appeal to him with the last thought. From that day, a fortnight in the past, Master Prynne had not bothered to revive the subject, despite his dream of lineage, and the hope of his wife was fading. The maiden's blush that had ripened her cheeks on that day before the alter an eternity ago had long dissipated into the void that was once filled with the idea of love. She considered confronting her husband-what a brazen maneuver that would be-on the idea, and possibly he may find it in his heart to consider this once more. 

Indeed, this is what she is to do: prepare their quaint home for her husband, in the fashion of his liking, dress in her linens to his desire, to make her proposal of  her fertility seem true, then, once he returns from his duties away, she shall ask of him the burning question that plagued her. This thought caused a giddy smile to spread onto Hester's lips, an entity that had not been present within her fading heart for an eternity. She stopped on  a moment... what if the man actually desires to copulate and attempt to seed her? She placed a hand on her abdomen. This risk must be taken. And perhaps they are blessed? Hester's stomach turned. The thought of her husband as he was on his wedding day- their first attempt of few that dissipated after the vow was spoken. The dream of such passions had been sweeter to her, and wishing to gaze at herself to ensure her attitude.

 At once, she stood from her place and entered into their home, her step light from her gaiety. 

The damp chill of the home sunk into her bones, darkness consuming her as the door shut behind her. The flame in her soul flickered, but was not snuffed out quite yet. Hope for happiness shone through the tomb-like existence that encumbered her heart, strengthening her work. The place did not require much, but deserved attention in the area of washing and dusting. Master Prynne was wealthy, yes, but with that wealth he did not hire maids to do his wife's duty. His antiquated mind cherished the simpler life, and his fortune was distributed to the poor, as well as a generous portion to appease the elegant style of Hester's florid garments. This manner agreed with the scholar, as it remained unvarnished and plain compared to the silks and velvets that Hester was crafted of, the threads of gold and scarlet that knit together her being.

This became an overwhelming reminder to Hester as she washed their clothing, the differences between herself and her former love driving her to tears. A loveless life was, indeed, a burden to bear, but not uncommon. She recalled her own mothers relations with her father, as both were indifferent to the other, as was the way of merry old England. The fact that these bland observations of her youth reflected a stark contrast to her childish picture of love disturbed her further, as she questioned the very motive of her conception. In her own mind's eye, as fiery as it was, she could not fathom the moral obligation that was handed to her before leaving the womb. To carry out such an obligation for Roger Prynne's sake, as well as for her own, felt unspeakable and she blushed to allow the idea to pass over her brow. This was not unearthed on the wedding day, and the thought was perceived as awkward and unnatural to Hester. Her character was young at the time, and yearned for one to protect her innocence and secure her future, but now her responsibility as a woman needed to be fulfilled, as her true purpose for entering into the world became painstakingly clear. The vow she had made on the stainless alter held within the flowery words of love a contract that bound her body and soul eternally to Roger Prynne until the separation of death. Her heartache throbbed so deeply within her soul that she had nearly come to pray for that day, filled with glorious relief and an end to her loneliness. But she dared not breath such blasphemous words to the heavens, knowing well what kind of sin this would be. Therefore, she tried to focus on the present moment, trying to allow the hours of stillness bring her some what of a figment of joy, as her husband had each day from the birth of the sun to the fiery death that settled into night.

Master Prynne returned weary and disheveled that evening, discouraged by his troubled mind. He had observed his young wife daily, and had pondered what to do with her withering soul. It burdened him to see the bright rose grow limp within his grasp. He knew on the day of their marriage that his rose possessed stabbing thorns that prickled at the soul and drew blood, but beauty surpassed this sacrifice, as he knew all to well. Her untamed character excited his scientific mind, as he could not study her enough to become bored with her radiance. Once he had captured his song bird, she wilted, slowly at first her song grew pensive, but at the present moment were it only whispers of the joy. Within his heart, he knew that the only way to see her fly and sing once more was to release her. That is not from the marriage, no, he had done to much labour to dismiss his wife. Rumors of unfaithfulness would run rampant throughout the countryside as well, bringing them both to shame. His prize dove was not deserving of such a punishment, even with her detachment from his embrace.

Love still thrived, but had taken on a different form. No longer had the infatuation of marriage controlled the relationship that bound them together, but something greater than such shallow emotion, much greater than physical release.... Roger Prynne believed that his wife had not yet discovered this selfless, unconditional love that penetrated beyond physical attachment, and passionately awaited her arrival. However, as the nights rolled by without her angelic glance, he grew discouraged. His vow demanded that he give selflessly of himself, and that he did most passionately, but his wife's touch had not returned the favor. Perhaps the only way to see her soar is to allow her to thrive in a structured environment, but a place virtually untouched by Europe. He had connections with a friend who was sailing for the New World with his wife and several children within a fortnight. After many days of debating with his mind, he had contacted the older gentleman to discuss his ordeal.

"Oh, yes!" the tenor boomed with glee, "The Puritan colony in Massachusetts is the ideal place for your wife. We shall house her ourselves".

And with the exchange of money and words of appreciation, Roger Prynne set out to tell his wife. Although the matter was settled, it plagued him continuously on his journey home, but he swatted at these negative believes, as they were only words of discouragement from Lucifer himself. The faith he had entrusted into Hester was ensured when they spoke their sacred Vow to each other and to God.