It is done!' whispered the priest, covering his face with his hands. "The whole town will wake up and find me here. But the people of the town did not wake up, or if they did they imagined the cry was something which came from their dreams. When he heard no sounds of feet hurrying towards him, the young priest uncovered his eyes and looked around. At a window in Governor Bellingham's house, which was not far away, he saw the Governor himself, in his white nightshirt, with a light in his hand "He looks like a ghost," thought Mr Dimmesdale. And after a moment, the light disappeared from the window The priest became calmer. Then he noticed another light, coming towards him along the street. As it came nearer, he saw that the person carrying it was the old priest, Mr Wilson. He has been praying at the bedside of some dying man thought Mr Dimmesdale. And so he had. The old priest was now on his way home from the death-bed of Mr Winthrop, who had just died. As Mr Wilson passed by the scaffold, Mr Dimmesdale found it difficult not to speak Good evening to you, Father! Please come up and spend a pleasant hour with me!" Good heavens! Had Mr Dimmesdale actually spoken? For one moment he