In Chapter 10 - "The Leech and His Patient," Hawthorne shows a parallel between Chillingworth examining and gathering evil-looking weeds from a grave, signifying unrevealed crimes with Pearl examining and gathering burrs to throw upon her mother's scarlet A and to throw at Dimmesdale, signifying a thorny link between her unacknowledged parents that can't be shaken. Chillingworth has turned away from the healing properties that the Indians taught and instead seeks to learn the hidden secrets buried in sinners. Perhaps Pearl's behavior as she skips irreverently among the tombstones could be likened to Indians dancing at the celebration of death.
[Dimmesdale] therefore still kept up a familiar intercourse with him, daily receiving the old physician in his study; or visiting the laboratory, and, for recreation's sake, watching the processes by which weeds were converted into drugs of potency.
...One day, leaning his forehead on his hand, and his elbow on the sill
of the open window, that looked towards the grave-yard, he talked with
Roger Chillingworth, while the old man was examining a bundle of unsightly
"Where," asked he, with a look askance at them,--for it was the clergyman's peculiarity that he seldom, now-a-days, looked straightforth at any object, whether human or inanimate,--"where, my kind doctor, did you gather those herbs, with such a dark, flabby leaf?"
"Even in the grave-yard, here at hand," answered the physician, continuing his employment. "They are new to me. I found them growing on a grave, which bore no tombstone, no other memorial of the dead man, save these ugly weeds that have taken upon themselves to keep him in remembrance. They grew out of his heart, and typify, it may be, some hideous secret that was buried with him, and which he had done better to confess during his lifetime."
"Perchance," said Mr. Dimmesdale, "he earnestly desired it, but could not."
"And wherefore?" rejoined the physician. "Wherefore not; since all the powers of nature call so earnestly for the confession of sin, that these black weeds have sprung up out of a buried heart, to make manifest an outspoken crime?"
...Before Roger Chillingworth could answer, they heard the clear, wild
laughter of a young child's voice, proceeding from the adjacent burial-ground.
Looking instinctively from the open window,--for it was summer-time,--the
minister beheld Hester Prynne and little Pearl passing along the footpath
that traversed the inclosure. Pearl looked as beautiful as the day, but
was in one of those moods of perverse merriment which, whenever they occurred,
seemed to remove her entirely out of the sphere of sympathy or human contact.
She now skipped irreverently from one grave to another; until, coming to
the broad, flat, armorial tombstone of a departed worthy,--perhaps of Isaac
Johnson himself,--she began to dance upon it. In reply to her mother's command
and entreaty that she would behave more decorously, little Pearl paused
to gather the prickly burrs from a tall burdock, which grew beside the tomb.
Taking a handful of these, she arranged them along the lines of the scarlet
letter that decorated the maternal bosom, to which the burrs, as their nature
was, tenaciously adhered. Hester did not pluck them off.
Roger Chillingworth had by this time approached the window, and smiled grimly down.
"There is no law, nor reverence for authority, no regard for human ordinances or opinions, right or wrong, mixed up with that child's composition," remarked he, as much to himself as to his companion. "I saw her, the other day, bespatter the Governor himself with water, at the cattle-trough in Spring Lane. What, in Heaven's name, is she? Is the imp altogether evil? Hath she affections? Hath she any discoverable principle of being?"
"None,--save the freedom of a broken law," answered Mr. Dimmesdale, in a quiet way, as if he had been discussing the point within himself. "Whether capable of good, I know not."
The child probably overheard their voices; for, looking up to the window, with a bright, but naughty smile of mirth and intelligence, she threw one of the prickly burrs at the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale. The sensitive clergyman shrank, with nervous dread, from the light missile. Detecting his emotion, Pearl clapped her little hands in the most extravagant ecstasy. Hester Prynne, likewise, had involuntarily looked up; and all these four persons, old and young, regarded one another in silence, till the child laughed aloud, and shouted,--"Come away, mother! Come away, or yonder old Black Man will catch you! He hath got hold of the minister already. Come away, mother, or he will catch you! But he cannot catch little Pearl!"
So she drew her mother away, skipping, dancing, and frisking fantastically among the hillocks of the dead people, like a creature that had nothing in common with a bygone and buried generation, nor owned herself akin to it. It was as if she had been made afresh, out of new elements, and must perforce be permitted to live her own life, and be a law unto herself, without her eccentricities being reckoned to her for a crime.