hen her lips
were close to his ear, "prithee put off your journey until sunrise and
sleep in your own bed to-night. A lone woman is troubled with such
dreams and such thoughts that she's afeard of herself sometimes. Pray
tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year."

"My love and my Faith," replied young Goodman Brown, "of all nights in
the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee. My journey, as
thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done 'twixt now
and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already,
and we but three months married?"

"Then God bless you!" said Faith, with the pink ribbons; "and may you
find all well when you come back."

"Amen!" cried Goodman Brown. "Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to
bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee."

So they parted; and the young man pursued his way until, being about to
turn the corner by the meeting-house, he looked back and saw the head
of Faith still peeping after him with a melancholy air, in spite of her
pink ribbons.

"Poor little Faith!" thought he, for his heart smote him. "What a
wretch am I to leave her on such an errand! She talks of dreams, too.
Methought as she spoke there was trouble in her face, as if a dream had
warned her what work is to be done tonight. But no, no; 't would kill
her to think it. Well, she's a blessed angel on earth; and after this
one night I'll cling to her skirts and follow her to heaven."

With this excellent resolve for the future, Goodman Brown felt himself
justified in making more haste on his present evil purpose. He had
taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest trees of the forest,
which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through, and
closed immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be; and there
is this peculiarity in such a solitude, that the traveller knows not
who may be concealed by the innumerable trunks and the thick boughs
overhead; so that with lonely footsteps he may yet be passing through
an unseen multitude.

"There may be a devilish Indian behind every tree," said Goodman Brown
to himself; and he glanced fearfully behind him as he added, "What if
the devil himself should be at my very elbow!"

His head being turned back, he passed a crook of the road, and, looking
forward again, beheld the figure of a man, in grave and decent attire,
seated at the foot of an old tree. He arose at Goodman Brown's approach
and wal