The Minister's Black Veil

A PARABLE[1]


[1] Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York,Maine,
made himself remarkable by the same eccentricity that is hererelated of
the Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a
different import. In early life he had accidentally killed abeloved
friend, and from that day till the hour of his own death, he hidhis
face from men.


The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house, pullingbusily
at the bell-rope. The old people of the village came stoopingalong the
street. Children, with bright faces, tripped merrily beside their
parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the conscious dignity oftheir
Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the prettymaidens,
and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them prettier than onweek
days. When the throng had mostly streamed into the porch, thesexton
began to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr.Hooper's
door. The first glimpse of the clergyman's figure was the signalfor the
bell to cease its summons.

"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?"cried the sexton in
astonishment.

All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld thesemblance of
Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towards themeetinghouse.
With one accord they started, expressing more wonder than if some
strange minister were coming to dust the cushions of Mr. Hooper's
pulpit.

"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Goodman Grayof the sexton.

"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied thesexton. "He was to
have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; but ParsonShute
sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a funeralsermon."

The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight. Mr.
Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still abachelor,
was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful wife had
starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his Sunday'sgarb.
There was but one thing remarkable in his appearance. Swathedabout his
forehead, and hanging down over his face, so low as to be shakenby his
breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black veil. On a nearer view itseemed to
consist of two folds of crape, which entirely concealed hisfeatures,
except the mouth and chin, but probably did not intercept hissight,
further than to give a darkened aspect to all living andinanimate
things. With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr. Hooper walked
onward, at a slow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and lookingon the
ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindlyto those
of his parishioners who still waited on the meeting-house steps.But so
wonder-struck were they that his greeting hardly met with areturn.

"I can't really feel as if good Mr. Hooper's face was behindthat piece
of crape," said the sexton.

"I don't like it," muttered an old woman, as shehobbled into the
meeting-house. "He has changed himself into something awful,only by
hiding his face."

"Our parson has gone mad!" cried Goodman Gray,following him across the
threshold.

A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooperinto
the meeting-house, and set all the congregation astir. Few could
refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; many stoodupright,
and turned directly about; while several little boys clamberedupon the
seats, and came down again with a terrible racket. There was ageneral
bustle, a rustling of the women's gowns and shuffling of themen's feet,
greatly at variance with that hushed repose which should attendthe
entrance of the minister. But Mr. Hooper appeared not to noticethe
perturbation of his people. He entered with an almost noiselessstep,
bent his head mildly to the pews on each side, and bowed as hepassed
his oldest parishioner, a white-haired great grandsire, whooccupied an
arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It was strange to observehow
slowly this venerable man became conscious of something singularin the
appearance of his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of the
prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper had ascended the stairs, andshowed
himself in the pulpit, face to face with his congregation, exceptfor
the black veil. That mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn.It
shook with his measured breath, as he gave out the psalm; itthrew its
obscurity between him and the holy page, as he read theScriptures; and
while he prayed, the veil lay heavily on his uplifted countenance.Did
he seek to hide it from the dread Being whom he was addressing?

Such was the effect of this simple piece of crape, that more thanone
woman of delicate nerves was forced to leave the meeting-house.Yet
perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful a sightto the
minister, as his black veil to them.

Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preacher, but not anenergetic
one: he strove to win his people heavenward by mild, persuasive
influences, rather than to drive them thither by the thunders ofthe
Word. The sermon which he now delivered was marked by the same
characteristics of style and manner as the general series of hispulpit
oratory. But there was something, either in the sentiment of the
discourse itself, or in the imagination of the auditors, whichmade it
greatly the most powerful effort that they had ever heard fromtheir
pastor's lips. It was tinged, rather more darkly than usual, withthe
gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. The subject hadreference to
secret sin, and those sad mysteries which we hide from ournearest and
dearest, and would fain conceal from our own consciousness, even
forgetting that the Omniscient can detect them. A subtle powerwas
breathed into his words. Each member of the congregation, themost
innocent girl, and the man of hardened breast, felt as if thepreacher
had crept upon them, behind his awful veil, and discovered theirhoarded
iniquity of deed or thought. Many spread their clasped hands ontheir
bosoms. There was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, atleast,
no violence; and yet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice,the
hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So
sensible were the audience of some unwonted attribute in theirminister,
that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the veil,almost
believing that a stranger's visage would be discovered, thoughthe form,
gesture, and voice were those of Mr. Hooper.

At the close of the services, the people hurried out withindecorous
confusion, eager to communicate their pent-up amazement, andconscious
of lighter spirits the moment they lost sight of the black veil.Some
gathered in little circles, huddled closely together, with theirmouths
all whispering in the centre; some went homeward alone, wrapt insilent
meditation; some talked loudly, and profaned the Sabbath day with
ostentatious laughter. A few shook their sagacious heads,intimating
that they could penetrate the mystery; while one or two affirmedthat
there was no mystery at all, but only that Mr. Hooper's eyes wereso
weakened by the midnight lamp, as to require a shade. After abrief
interval, forth came good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear of hisflock.
Turning his veiled face from one group to another, he paid duereverence
to the hoary heads, saluted the middle aged with kind dignity astheir
friend and spiritual guide, greeted the young with mingledauthority and
love, and laid his hands on the little children's heads to blessthem.
Such was always his custom on the Sabbath day. Strange andbewildered
looks repaid him for his courtesy. None, as on former occasions,
aspired to the honor of walking by their pastor's side. OldSquire
Saunders, doubtless by an accidental lapse of memory, neglectedto
invite Mr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergyman had beenwont
to bless the food, almost every Sunday since his settlement. He
returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and, at the moment ofclosing the
door, was observed to look back upon the people, all of whom hadtheir
eyes fixed upon the minister. A sad smile gleamed faintly frombeneath
the black veil, and flickered about his mouth, glimmering as he
disappeared.

"How strange," said a lady, "that a simple blackveil, such as any woman
might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terrible thing onMr.
Hooper's face!"

"Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper'sintellects," observed
her husband, the physician of the village. "But thestrangest part of
the affair is the effect of this vagary, even on a sober-mindedman like
myself. The black veil, though it covers only our pastor's face,throws
its influence over his whole person, and makes him ghostlike fromhead
to foot. Do you not feel it so?"

"Truly do I," replied the lady; "and I would notbe alone with him for
the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone with himself!"

"Men sometimes are so," said her husband.

The afternoon service was attended with similar circumstances. Atits
conclusion, the bell tolled for the funeral of a young lady. The
relatives and friends were assembled in the house, and the moredistant
acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the goodqualities of
the deceased, when their talk was interrupted by the appearanceof Mr.
Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It was now anappropriate
emblem. The clergyman stepped into the room where the corpse waslaid,
and bent over the coffin, to take a last farewell of his deceased
parishioner. As he stooped, the veil hung straight down from his
forehead, so that, if her eyelids had not been closed forever,the dead
maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be fearful ofher
glance, that he so hastily caught back the black veil? A personwho
watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled notto
affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman's features were
disclosed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroudand
muslin cap, though the countenance retained the composure ofdeath. A
superstitious old woman was the only witness of this prodigy.From the
coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the chamber of the mourners, andthence to
the head of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was atender
and heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued with
celestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by thefingers
of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest accentsof the
minister. The people trembled, though they but darkly understoodhim
when he prayed that they, and himself, and all of mortal race,might be
ready, as he trusted this young maiden had been, for the dreadfulhour
that should snatch the veil from their faces. The bearers wentheavily
forth, and the mourners followed, saddening all the street, withthe
dead before them, and Mr. Hooper in his black veil behind.

"Why do you look back?" said one in the procession tohis partner.

"I had a fancy," replied she, "that the ministerand the maiden's spirit
were walking hand in hand."

"And so had I, at the same moment," said the other.

That night, the handsomest couple in Milford village were to bejoined
in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had aplacid
cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited asympathetic smile
where livelier merriment would have been thrown away. There wasno
quality of his disposition which made him more beloved than this.The
company at the wedding awaited his arrival with impatience,trusting
that the strange awe, which had gathered over him throughout theday,
would now be dispelled. But such was not the result. When Mr.Hooper
came, the first thing that their eyes rested on was the samehorrible
black veil, which had added deeper gloom to the funeral, andcould
portend nothing but evil to the wedding. Such was its immediateeffect
on the guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily frombeneath
the black crape, and dimmed the light of the candles. The bridalpair
stood up before the minister. But the bride's cold fingersquivered in
the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her deathlike palenesscaused
a whisper that the maiden who had been buried a few hours beforewas
come from her grave to be married. If ever another wedding wereso
dismal, it was that famous one where they tolled the weddingknell.
After performing the ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wineto his
lips, wishing happiness to the new-married couple in a strain ofmild
pleasantry that ought to have brightened the features of theguests,
like a cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catchinga
glimpse of his figure in the looking-glass, the black veilinvolved his
own spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed all others.His
frame shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wineupon
the carpet, and rushed forth into the darkness. For the Earth,too, had
on her Black Veil.

The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little elsethan
Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealedbehind it,
supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances meeting inthe
street, and good women gossiping at their open windows. It wasthe
first item of news that the tavern-keeper told to his guests. The
children babbled of it on their way to school. One imitativelittle imp
covered his face with an old black handkerchief, thereby soaffrighting
his playmates that the panic seized himself, and he well-nighlost his
wits by his own waggery.

It was remarkable that all of the busybodies and impertinentpeople in
the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.Hooper,
wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there appearedthe
slightest call for such interference, he had never lackedadvisers, nor
shown himself averse to be guided by their judgment. If he erredat
all, it was by so painful a degree of self-distrust, that eventhe
mildest censure would lead him to consider an indifferent actionas a
crime. Yet, though so well acquainted with this amiable weakness,no
individual among his parishioners chose to make the black veil asubject
of friendly remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neitherplainly
confessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each to shift the
responsibility upon another, till at length it was foundexpedient to
send a deputation of the church, in order to deal with Mr. Hooperabout
the mystery, before it should grow into a scandal. Never did anembassy
so ill discharge its duties. The minister received then withfriendly
courtesy, but became silent, after they were seated, leaving tohis
visitors the whole burden of introducing their important business.The
topic, it might be supposed, was obvious enough. There was theblack
veil swathed round Mr. Hooper's forehead, and concealing everyfeature
above his placid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceivethe
glimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crape, totheir
imagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the symbol ofa
fearful secret between him and them. Were the veil but castaside, they
might speak freely of it, but not till then. Thus they sat a
considerable time, speechless, confused, and shrinking uneasilyfrom Mr.
Hooper's eye, which they felt to be fixed upon them with aninvisible
glance. Finally, the deputies returned abashed to theirconstituents,
pronouncing the matter too weighty to be handled, except by acouncil of
the churches, if, indeed, it might not require a general synod.

But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awewith which
the black veil had impressed all beside herself. When thedeputies
returned without an explanation, or even venturing to demand one,she,
with the calm energy of her character, determined to chase awaythe
strange cloud that appeared to be settling round Mr. Hooper,every
moment more darkly than before. As his plighted wife, it shouldbe her
privilege to know what the black veil concealed. At theminister's
first visit, therefore, she entered upon the subject with adirect
simplicity, which made the task easier both for him and her.After he
had seated himself, she fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil,but
could discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that had so overawedthe
multitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hanging down fromhis
forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his breath.

"No," said she aloud, and smiling, "there isnothing terrible in this
piece of crape, except that it hides a face which I am alwaysglad to
look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from behind thecloud.
First lay aside your black veil: then tell me why you put it on."

Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.

"There is an hour to come," said he, "when all ofus shall cast aside
our veils. Take it not amiss, beloved friend, if I wear thispiece of
crape till then."

"Your words are a mystery, too," returned the younglady. "Take away the
veil from them, at least."

"Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vowmay suffer me. Know,
then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound to wear itever,
both in light and darkness, in solitude and before the gaze of
multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my familiar friends.No
mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This dismal shade must separateme
from the world: even you, Elizabeth, can never come behind it!"

"What grievous affliction hath befallen you," sheearnestly inquired,
"that you should thus darken your eyes forever?"

"If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr. Hooper,"I, perhaps, like
most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified by ablack
veil."

"But what if the world will not believe that it is the typeof an
innocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. "Beloved andrespected as you are,
there may be whispers that you hide your face under theconsciousness of
secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do away thisscandal!"

The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated the nature of therumors
that were already abroad in the village. But Mr. Hooper'smildness did
not forsake him. He even smiled again--that same sad smile, which
always appeared like a faint glimmering of light, proceeding fromthe
obscurity beneath the veil.

"If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough,"he merely
replied; "and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortalmight not do the
same?"

And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he resistall her
entreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few moments she
appeared lost in thought, considering, probably, what new methodsmight
be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark a fantasy, which, ifit had
no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom of mental disease. Thoughof a
firmer character than his own, the tears rolled down her cheeks.But,
in an instant, as it were, a new feeling took the place of sorrow:her
eyes were fixed insensibly on the black veil, when, like a sudden
twilight in the air, its terrors fell around her. She arose, andstood
trembling before him.

"And do you feel it then, at last?" said he mournfully.

She made no reply, but covered her eyes with her hand, and turnedto
leave the room. He rushed forward and caught her arm.

"Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he,passionately. "Do not
desert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth. Bemine,
and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no darknessbetween
our souls! It is but a mortal veil--it is not for eternity! O!you
know not how lonely I am, and how frightened, to be alone behindmy
black veil. Do not leave me in this miserable obscurity forever!"

"Lift the veil but once, and look me in the face," saidshe.

"Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper.

"Then farewell!" said Elizabeth.

She withdrew her arm from his grasp, and slowly departed, pausingat the
door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that seemed almost topenetrate
the mystery of the black veil. But, even amid his grief, Mr.Hooper
smiled to think that only a material emblem had separated himfrom
happiness, though the horrors, which it shadowed forth, must bedrawn
darkly between the fondest of lovers.

From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper's blackveil,
or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret which it wassupposed to
hide. By persons who claimed a superiority to popular prejudice,it was
reckoned merely an eccentric whim, such as often mingles with thesober
actions of men otherwise rational, and tinges them all with itsown
semblance of insanity. But with the multitude, good Mr. Hooperwas
irreparably a bugbear. He could not walk the street with anypeace of
mind, so conscious was he that the gentle and timid would turnaside to
avoid him, and that others would make it a point of hardihood tothrow
themselves in his way. The impertinence of the latter classcompelled
him to give up his customary walk at sunset to the burial ground;for
when he leaned pensively over the gate, there would always befaces
behind the gravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable wentthe
rounds that the stare of the dead people drove him thence. Itgrieved
him, to the very depth of his kind heart, to observe how thechildren
fled from his approach, breaking up their merriest sports, whilehis
melancholy figure was yet afar off. Their instinctive dreadcaused him
to feel more strongly than aught else, that a preternaturalhorror was
interwoven with the threads of the black crape. In truth, his own
antipathy to the veil was known to be so great, that he neverwillingly
passed before a mirror, nor stooped to drink at a still fountain,lest,
in its peaceful bosom, he should be affrighted by himself. Thiswas
what gave plausibility to the whispers, that Mr. Hooper'sconscience
tortured him for some great crime too horrible to be entirelyconcealed,
or otherwise than so obscurely intimated. Thus, from beneath theblack
veil, there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity of sinor
sorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, so that love orsympathy
could never reach him. It was said that ghost and fiend consortedwith
him there. With self-shudderings and outward terrors, he walked
continually in its shadow, groping darkly within his own soul, orgazing
through a medium that saddened the whole world. Even the lawlesswind,
it was believed, respected his dreadful secret, and never blewaside the
veil. But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale visagesof the
worldly throng as he passed by.

Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the onedesirable
effect, of making its wearer a very efficient clergyman. By theaid of
his mysterious emblem--for there was no other apparent cause--hebecame
a man of awful power over souls that were in agony for sin. His
converts always regarded him with a dread peculiar to themselves,
affirming, though but figuratively, that, before he brought themto
celestial light, they had been with him behind the black veil.Its
gloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with all dark affections.
Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not yieldtheir
breath till he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whisper
consolation, they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own.Such
were the terrors of the black veil, even when Death had bared his
visage! Strangers came long distances to attend service at hischurch,
with the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure, because itwas
forbidden them to behold his face. But many were made to quakeere they
departed! Once, during Governor Belcher's administration, Mr.Hooper
was appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered with hisblack
veil, he stood before the chief magistrate, the council, and the
representatives, and wrought so deep an impression, that thelegislative
measures of that year were characterized by all the gloom andpiety of
our earliest ancestral sway.

In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable inoutward
act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving, thoughunloved,
and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned in their healthand joy,
but ever summoned to their aid in mortal anguish. As years woreon,
shedding their snows above his sable veil, he acquired a namethroughout
the New England churches, and they called him Father Hooper.Nearly all
his parishioners, who were of mature age when he was settled, hadbeen
borne away by many a funeral: he had one congregation in thechurch, and
a more crowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought so lateinto
the evening, and done his work so well, it was now good FatherHooper's
turn to rest.

Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight, in thedeath
chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he had none.But
there was the decorously grave, though unmoved physician, seekingonly
to mitigate the last pangs of the patient whom he could not save.There
were the deacons, and other eminently pious members of his church.
There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clark, of Westbury, a young and
zealous divine, who had ridden in haste to pray by the bedside ofthe
expiring minister. There was the nurse, no hired handmaiden ofdeath,
but one whose calm affection had endured thus long in secrecy, in
solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even atthe dying
hour. Who, but Elizabeth! And there lay the hoary head of goodFather
Hooper upon the death pillow, with the black veil still swathedabout
his brow, and reaching down over his face, so that each moredifficult
gasp of his faint breath caused it to stir. All through life thatpiece
of crape had hung between him and the world: it had separated himfrom
cheerful brotherhood and woman's love, and kept him in thatsaddest of
all prisons, his own heart; and still it lay upon his face, as ifto
deepen the gloom of his darksome chamber, and shade him from the
sunshine of eternity.

For some time previous, his mind had been confused, waveringdoubtfully
between the past and the present, and hovering forward, as itwere, at
intervals, into the indistinctness of the world to come. Therehad been
feverish turns, which tossed him from side to side, and wore awaywhat
little strength he had. But in his most convulsive struggles, andin
the wildest vagaries of his intellect, when no other thoughtretained
its sober influence, he still showed an awful solicitude lest theblack
veil should slip aside. Even if his bewildered soul could have
forgotten, there was a faithful woman at this pillow, who, withaverted
eyes, would have covered that aged face, which she had lastbeheld in
the comeliness of manhood. At length the death-stricken old manlay
quietly in the torpor of mental and bodily exhaustion, with an
imperceptible pulse, and breath that grew fainter and fainter,except
when a long, deep, and irregular inspiration seemed to preludethe
flight of his spirit.

The minister of Westbury approached the bedside.

"Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the moment ofyour release is at
hand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts intime from
eternity?"

Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeble motion of hishead;
then, apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might be doubted,he
exerted himself to speak.

"Yea," said he, in faint accents, "my soul hath apatient weariness
until that veil be lifted."

"And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark,"that a man so
given to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed andthought,
so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; is it fitting that afather in
the church should leave a shadow on his memory, that may seem toblacken
a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable brother, let not thisthing
be! Suffer us to be gladdened by your triumphant aspect as you goto
your reward. Before the veil of eternity be lifted, let me castaside
this black veil from your face!"

And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to revealthe
mystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudden energy, thatmade all
the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both his handsfrom
beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly on the blackveil,
resolute to struggle, if the minister of Westbury would contendwith a
dying man.

"Never!" cried the veiled clergyman. "On earth,never!"

"Dark old man!" exclaimed the affrighted minister,"with what horrible
crime upon your soul are you now passing to the judgment?"

Father Hooper's breath heaved; it rattled in his throat; but,with a
mighty effort, grasping forward with his hands, he caught hold oflife,
and held it back till he should speak. He even raised himself inbed;
and there he sat, shivering with the arms of death around him,while the
black veil hung down, awful, at that last moment, in the gathered
terrors of a lifetime. And yet the faint, sad smile, so oftenthere,
now seemed to glimmer from its obscurity, and linger on FatherHooper's
lips.

"Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning hisveiled face
round the circle of pale spectators. "Tremble also at eachother! Have
men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and children screamedand fled,
only for my black veil? What, but the mystery which it obscurely
typifies, has made this piece of crape so awful? When the friendshows
his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to his best beloved;when man
does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator, loathsomely
treasuring up the secret of his sin; then deem me a monster, forthe
symbol beneath which I have lived, and die! I look around me,and, lo!
on every visage a Black Veil!"

While his auditors shrank from one another, in mutual affright,Father
Hooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled corpse, with a faintsmile
lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in his coffin,and a
veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The grass of many yearshas
sprung up and withered on that grave, the burial stone is moss-grown,
and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; but awful is still thethought that
it mouldered beneath the Black Veil!