TWICE…TOLD　TALES
  THE　BIRTHMARK
  by　Nathaniel　Hawthorne
  IN　THE　LATTER　PART　of　the　last　century；　there　lived　a　man　of
  science…　an　eminent　proficient　in　every　branch　of　natural
  philosophy…　who；　not　long　before　our　story　opens；　had　made
  experience　of　a　spiritual　affinity；　more　attractive　than　any
  chemical　one。　He　had　left　his　laboratory　to　the　care　of　an
  assistant；　cleared　his　fine　countenance　from　the　furnace…smoke；　washed
  the　stain　of　acids　from　his　fingers；　and　persuaded　a　beautiful　woman
  to　become　his　wife。　In　those　days；　when　the　comparatively　recent
  discovery　of　electricity；　and　other　kindred　mysteries　of　nature；
  seemed　to　open　paths　into　the　region　of　miracle；　it　was　not　unusual
  for　the　love　of　science　to　rival　the　love　of　woman；　in　its　depth　and
  absorbing　energy。　The　higher　intellect；　the　imagination；　the　spirit；
  and　even　the　heart；　might　all　find　their　congenial　aliment　in　pursuits
  which；　as　some　of　their　ardent　votaries　believed；　would　ascend　from
  one　step　of　powerful　intelligence　to　another；　until　the　philosopher
  should　lay　his　hand　on　the　secret　of　creative　force；　and　perhaps
  make　new　worlds　for　himself。　We　know　not　whether　Aylmer　possessed　this
  degree　of　faith　in　man's　ultimate　control　over　nature。　He　had
  devoted　himself；　however；　too　unreservedly　to　scientific　studies；　ever
  to　be　weaned　from　them　by　any　second　passion。　His　love　for　his　young
  wife　might　prove　the　stronger　of　the　two；　but　it　could　only　be　by
  intertwining　itself　with　his　love　of　science；　and　uniting　the　strength
  of　the　latter　to　its　own。
  Such　an　union　accordingly　took　place；　and　was　attended　with　truly
  remarkable　consequences；　and　a　deeply　impressive　moral。　One　day；
  very　soon　after　their　marriage；　Aylmer　sat　gazing　at　his　wife；　with
  a　trouble　in　his　countenance　that　grew　stronger；　until　he　spoke。
  〃Georgiana；〃　said　he；　〃has　it　never　occurred　to　you　that　the　mark
  upon　your　cheek　might　be　removed？〃
  〃No；　indeed；　said　she；　smiling；　but　perceiving　the　seriousness　of
  his　manner；　she　blushed　deeply。　〃To　tell　you　the　truth；　it　has　been　so
  often　called　a　charm；　that　I　was　simple　enough　to　imagine　it　might
  be　so。〃
  〃Ah；　upon　another　face；　perhaps　it　might；〃　replied　her　husband。
  〃But　never　on　yours！　No；　dearest　Georgiana；　you　came　so　nearly　perfect
  from　the　hand　of　Nature；　that　this　slightest　possible　defect…　which　we
  hesitate　whether　to　term　a　defect　or　a　beauty…　shocks　me；　as　being　the
  visible　mark　of　earthly　imperfection。〃
  〃Shocks　you；　my　husband！〃　cried　Georgiana；　deeply　hurt；　at　first
  reddening　with　momentary　anger；　but　then　bursting　into　tears。　〃Then
  why　did　you　take　me　from　my　mother's　side？　You　cannot　love　what　shocks
  you！〃
  To　explain　this　conversation；　it　must　be　mentioned；　that；　in　the
  centre　of　Georgiana's　left　cheek；　there　was　a　singular　mark；　deeply
  interwoven；　as　it　were；　with　the　texture　and　substance　of　her　face。　In
  the　usual　state　of　her　complexion…　a　healthy；　though　delicate　bloom…
  the　mark　wore　a　tint　of　deeper　crimson；　which　imperfectly　defined
  its　shape　amid　the　surrounding　rosiness。　When　she　blushed；　it
  gradually　became　more　indistinct；　and　finally　vanished　amid　the
  triumphant　rush　of　blood；　that　bathed　the　whole　cheek　with　its
  brilliant　glow。　But；　if　any　shifting　emotion　caused　her　to　turn
  pale；　there　was　the　mark　again；　a　crimson　stain　upon　the　snow；　in　what
  Aylmer　sometimes　deemed　an　almost　fearful　distinctness。　Its　shape　bore
  not　a　little　similarity　to　the　human　hand；　though　of　the　smallest
  pigmy　size。　Georgiana's　lovers　were　wont　to　say；　that　some　fairy；　at
  her　birth…hour；　had　laid　her　tiny　hand　upon　the　infant's　cheek；　and
  left　this　impress　there；　in　token　of　the　magic　endowments　that　were　to
  give　her　such　sway　over　all　hearts。　Many　a　desperate　swain　would
  have　risked　life　for　the　privilege　of　pressing　his　lips　to　the
  mysterious　hand。　It　must　not　be　concealed；　however；　that　the
  impression　wrought　by　this　fairy　sign…manual　varied　exceedingly；
  according　to　the　difference　of　temperament　in　the　beholders。　Some
  fastidious　persons…　but　they　were　exclusively　of　her　own　sex…　affirmed
  that　the　Bloody　Hand；　as　they　chose　to　call　it；　quite　destroyed　the
  effect　of　Georgiana's　beauty；　and　rendered　her　countenance　even
  hideous。　But　it　would　be　as　reasonable　to　say；　that　one　of　those　small
  blue　stains；　which　sometimes　occur　in　the　purest　statuary　marble；
  would　convert　the　Eve　of　Powers　to　a　monster。　Masculine　observers；
  if　the　birthmark　did　not　heighten　their　admiration；　contented
  themselves　with　wishing　it　away；　that　the　world　might　possess　one
  living　specimen　of　ideal　loveliness；　without　the　semblance　of　a
  flaw。　After　his　marriage…　for　he　thought　little　or　nothing　of　the
  matter　before…　Aylmer　discovered　that　this　was　the　case　with　himself。
  Had　she　been　less　beautiful…　if　Envy's　self　could　have　found
  aught　else　to　sneer　at…　he　might　have　felt　his　affection　heightened　by
  the　prettiness　of　this　mimic　hand；　now　vaguely　portrayed；　now　lost；
  now　stealing　forth　again；　and　glimmering　to　and　fro　with　every　pulse
  of　emotion　that　throbbed　within　her　heart。　But；　seeing　her　otherwise
  so　perfect；　he　found　this　one　defect　grow　more　and　more　intolerable；
  with　every　moment　of　their　united　lives。　It　was　the　fatal　flaw　of
  humanity；　which　Nature；　in　one　shape　or　another；　stamps　ineffaceably
  on　all　her　productions；　either　to　imply　that　they　are　temporary　and
  finite；　or　that　their　perfection　must　be　wrought　by　toil　and　pain。　The
  Crimson　Hand　expressed　the　ineludible　gripe；　in　which　mortality
  clutches　the　highest　and　purest　of　earthly　mould；　degrading　them
  into　kindred　with　the　lowest；　and　even　with　the　very　brutes；　like　whom
  their　visible　frames　return　to　dust。　In　this　manner；　selecting　it　as
  the　symbol　of　his　wife's　liability　to　sin；　sorrow；　decay；　and　death；
  Aylmer's　sombre　imagination　was　not　long　in　rendering　the　birthmark
  a　frightful　object；　causing　him　more　trouble　and　horror　than　ever
  Georgiana's　beauty；　whether　of　soul　or　sense；　had　given　him　delight。
  At　all　the　seasons　which　should　have　been　their　happiest；　he
  invariably；　and　without　intending　it…　nay；　in　spite　of　a　purpose　to
  the　contrary…　reverted　to　this　one　disastrous　topic。　Trifling　as　it　at
  first　appeared；　it　so　connected　itself　with　innumerable　trains　of
  thought；　and　modes　of　feeling；　that　it　became　the　central　point　of
  all。　With　the　morning　twilight；　Aylmer　opened　his　eyes　upon　his　wife's
  face；　and　recognized　the　symbol　of　imperfection；　and　when　they　sat
  together　at　the　evening　hearth；　his　eyes　wandered　stealthily　to　her
  cheek；　and　beheld；　flickering　with　the　blaze　of　the　wood　fire；　the
  spectral　Hand　that　wrote　mortality　where　he　would　fain　have
  worshipped。　Georgiana　soon　learned　to　shudder　at　his　gaze。　It　needed
  but　a　glance；　with　the　peculiar　expression　that　his　face　often　wore；
  to　change　the　roses　of　her　cheek　into　a　death…like　paleness；　amid
  which　the　Crimson　Hand　was　brought　strongly　out；　like　a　bas…relief
  of　ruby　on　the　whitest　marble。
  Late；　one　night；　when　the　lights　were　growing　dim；　so　as　hardly
  to　betray　the　stain　on　the　poor　wife's　cheek；　she　herself；　for　the
  first　time；　voluntarily　took　up　the　subject。
  〃Do　you　remember；　my　dear　Aylmer；〃　said　she；　with　a　feeble
  attempt　at　a　smile…　〃have　you　any　recollection　of　a　dream；　last　night；
  about　this　odious　Hand？〃
  〃None！　none　whatever！〃　replied　Aylmer；　starting；　but　then　he
  added　in　a　dry；　cold　tone；　affected　for　the　sake　of　concealing　the
  real　depth　of　his　emotion：　〃I　might　well　dream　of　it；　for；　before　I
  fell　asleep；　it　had　taken　a　pretty　firm　hold　of　my　fancy。〃
  〃And　you　did　dream　of　it；〃　continued　Georgiana；　hastily；　for　she
  dreaded　lest　a　gush　of　tears　should　interrupt　what　she　had　to　say…
  〃A　terrible　dream！　I　wonder　that　you　can　forget　it。　Is　it　possible
  to　forget　this　one　expression？　'It　is　in　her　heart　now…　we　must　have
  it　out！'　Reflect；　my　husband；　for　by　all　means　I　would　have　you　recall
  that　dream。〃
  The　mind　is　in　a　sad　state；　when　Sleep；　the　all…involving；　cannot
  confine　her　spectres　within　the　dim　region　of　her　sway；　but　suffers
  them　to　break　forth；　affrighting　this　actual　life　with　secrets　that
  perchance　belong　to　a　deeper　one。　Aylmer　now　remembered　his　dream。
  He　had　fancied　himself；　with　his　servant　Aminadab；　attempting　an
  operation　for　the　removal　of　the　birthmark。　But　the　deeper　went　the
  knife；　the　deeper　sank　the　Hand；　until　at　length　its　tiny　grasp
  appeared　to　have　caught　hold　of　Georgiana's　heart；　whence；　however；
  her　husband　was　inexorably　resolved　to　cut　or　wrench　it　away。
  When　the　dream　had　shaped　itself　perfectly　in　his　memory；　Aylmer
  sat　in　his　wife's　presence　with　a　guilty　feeling。　Truth　often　finds
  its　way　to　the　mind　close…muffled　in　robes　of　sleep；　and　then　speaks
  with　uncompromising　directness　of　matters　in　regard　to　which　we
  practise　an　unconscious　self…deception；　during　our　waking　moments。
  Until　now；　he　had　not　been　aware　of　the　tyrannizing　influence　acquired
  by　one　idea　over　his　mind；　and　of　the　lengths　which　he　might　fin