Yet, though the corporeal hand was gone, a spiritual memberremained; for, stretching forth the stump, Giles steadfastly averredthat he felt an invisible thumb and fingers with as vivid asensation as before the real ones were amputated. A maimed andmiserable wretch he was; but one, nevertheless, whom the world couldnot trample on, and had no right to scorn, either in this or anyprevious stage of his misfortunes, since he had still kept up thecourage and spirit of a man, asked nothing in charity, and with hisone hand- and that the left one- fought a stern battle against wantand hostile circumstances.
Among the throng, too, came another personage, who, with certainpoints of similarity to Lawyer Giles, had many more of difference.
It was the village doctor; a man of some fifty years, whom, at anearlier period of his life, we introduced as paying a professionalvisit to Ethan Brand during the latter's supposed insanity. He was nowa purple-visaged, rude, and brutal, yet half-gentlemanly figure,with something wild, ruined, and desperate in his talk, and in all thedetails of his gesture and manners. Brandy possessed this man likean evil spirit, and made him as surly and savage as a wild beast,and as miserable as a lost soul; but there was supposed to be in himsuch wonderful skill, such native gifts of healing, beyond any whichmedical science could impart, that society caught hold of him, andwould not let him sink out of its reach. So, swaying to and fro uponhis horse, and grumbling thick accents at the bedside, he visitedall the sick chambers for miles about among the mountain towns, andsometimes raised a dying man, as it were, by miracle, or quite asoften, no doubt, sent his patient to a grave that was dug many ayear too soon. The doctor had an everlasting pipe in his mouth, and,as somebody said, in allusion to his habit of swearing, it wasalways alight with hell-fire.
These three worthies pressed forward, and greeted Ethan Brandeach after his own fashion, earnestly inviting him to partake of thecontents of a certain black bottle, in which, as they averred, hewould find something far better worth seeking for than theUnpardonable Sin. No mind, which has wrought itself by intense andsolitary meditation into a high state of enthusiasm, can endure thekind of contact with low and vulgar modes of thought and feeling towhich Ethan Brand was now subjected. It made him doubt-and, strange tosay, it was a painful doubt-whether he had indeed found theUnpardonable Sin, and found it within himself. The whole question onwhich he had exhausted life, and more than life, looked like adelusion.
"Leave me," he said, bitterly, "ye brute beasts, that have madeyourselves so, shrivelling up your souls with fiery liquors! I havedone with you. Years and years ago, I groped into your hearts, andfound nothing there for my purpose. Get ye gone!""Why, you uncivil scoundrel," cried the fierce doctor, "is that theway you respond to the kindness of your best friends? Then let me tellyou the truth. You have no more found the Unpardonable Sin than yonderboy Joe has. You are but a crazy fellow- I told you so twenty yearsago- neither better nor worse than a crazy fellow, and the fitcompanion of old Humphrey, here!"He pointed to an old man, shabbily dressed, with long white hair,thin visage, and unsteady eyes. For some years past this aged personhad been wandering about among the hills, inquiring of alltravellers whom he met for his daughter. The girl, it seemed, had goneoff with a company of circus-performers; and occasionally tidings ofher came to the village, and fine stories were told of herglittering appearance as she rode on horse-back in the ring, orperformed marvellous feats on the tight-rope.
The white-haired father now approached Ethan Brand, and gazedunsteadily into his face.
"They tell me you have been all over the earth," said he,wringing his hands with earnestness. "You must have seen mydaughter, for she makes a grand figure in the world, and everybodygoes to see her. Did she send any word to her old father, or saywhen she was coming back?"Ethan Brand's eye quailed beneath the old man's. That daughter,from whom he so earnestly desired a word of greeting, was the Estherof our tale, the very girl whom, with such cold and remorselesspurpose, Ethan Brand had made the subject of a psychologicalexperiment, and wasted, absorbed, and perhaps annihilated her soul, inthe process.
"Yes," murmured he, turning away from the hoary wanderer; "it is nodelusion. There is an Unpardonable Sin!"While these things were passing, a merry scene was going forward inthe area of cheerful light, beside the spring and before the door ofthe hut. A number of the youth of the village, young men and girls,had hurried up the hill-side, impelled by curiosity to see EthanBrand, the hero of so many a legend familiar to their childhood.
Finding nothing, however, very remarkable in his aspect- nothing but asun-burnt wayfarer, in plain garb and dusty shoes, who sat lookinginto the fire, as if he fancied pictures among the coals- theseyoung people speedily grew tired of observing him. As it happened,there was other amusement at hand. An old German Jew, travellingwith a diorama on his back, was passing down the mountain-road towardsthe village just as the party turned aside from it, and, in hopes ofeking out the profits of the day, the showman had kept them company tothe lime-kiln.
