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THE SEXTON stood in the porch of Milford meetinghouse, pullingbusily at the bell rope. The old people of the village camestooping along the street. Children, with bright faces, trippedmerrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in theconscious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors lookedsidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the Sabbathsunshine made them prettier than on weekdays. When the throng hadmostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began to toll the bell,keeping his eye on the Reverend Mr. Hooper's door. The firstglimpse of the clergyman's figure was the signal for the bell tocease its summons.
"But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?" cried thesexton in astonishment.

All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld thesemblance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towardthe meetinghouse. With one accord they started, expressing morewonder 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 Gray of thesexton.

"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied the sexton. "He wasto have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; butParson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach afuneral sermon."

The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight. Mr.Hooper gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still abachelor, was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a carefulwife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from hisSunday's garb. There was but one thing remarkable in hisappearance. Swathed about his forehead, and hanging down over hisface, so low as to be shaken by his breath Mr. Hooper had on ablack veil. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds ofcrepe, which entirely concealed his features, except the mouth andchin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further than togive a darkened aspect to all living and inanimate things. Withthis gloomy shade before him, goad Mr. Hooper walked onward, at aslow and quiet pace, stooping somewhat, and looking on the ground,as is customary with abstracted men, yet nodding kindly to those ofhis parishioners who still waited on the meetinghouse steps. But sowonderstruck were they that his greeting hardly met with a return.

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

"I don't like it," muttered an old woman, as she hobbled into themeetinghouse. "He has changed himself into something awful, onlyby hiding his face."

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

A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon had preceded Mr. Hooperinto the meetinghouse, and set all the congregation astir. Fewcould refrain from twisting their heads toward the door; many stoodupright, and turned directly about while several little boysclambered upon the seats, and came down again with a terribleracket. There was a general bustle, a rustling of the women's gownsand shuffling of the men's feet, greatly at variance with thathushed repose which should attend the entrance of the minister. ButMr. Hooper appeared not to notice the perturbation of his people.He entered with an almost noiseless step, bent his head mildly tothe pews on each side, and bowed as he passed his oldestparishioner, a whitehaired great-grandsire, who occupied anarmchair in the center of the aisle. It was strange to observe howslowly this venerable man became conscious of something singular inthe appearance of his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of theprevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper had ascended the stairs, andshowed himself in the pulpit, face to face with his congregation,except for the black veil. That mysterious emblem was never oncewithdrawn. It shook with his measured breath, as he gave out thepsalm; it threw its obscurity between him and the holy page, as heread the Scriptures; and while he prayed, the veil lay heavily onhis uplifted countenance. Did he seek to hide it from the dreadBeing whom he was addressing?

Such was the effect of this simple piece of crepe, that more thanone woman of delicate nerves was forced to leave the meetinghouse.Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost as fearful asight to 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 thethunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered was markedby the same characteristics of style and manner as the generalseries of his pulpit oratory. But there was something, either inthe sentiment of the discourse itself, or in the imagination of theauditors, which made it greatly the most powerful effort that theyhad ever heard from their pastor's lips. It was tinged, rather moredarkly than usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper'stemperament. The subject had reference to secret sit, and those sadmysteries which we hide from our nearest and dearest and would fainconceal from our own consciousness, even forgetting that theOmniscient can de tect them. A subtle power was breathed into hiswords. Each member of the congregation, the most innocent girl, andthe man of hardened breast, felt as if the preacher had crept uponthem, behind his awful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquityof deed or thought. Many spread their clasped hands on theirbosoms. There was nothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, atleast no violence; and yet, with every tremor of his melancholyvoice, the hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in handwith awe. So sensible were the audience of some unwonted attributein their minister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blowaside the veil, almost believing that a stranger's visage would bediscovered, though the 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,and conscious of lighter spirits the moment they lost sight of theblack veil. Some gathered in little circles, huddled closelytogether, with their mouths all whispering in the center; some wenthomeward alone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talked loudly, andprofaned the Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter. A few shook,their sagacious heads, intimating that they could penetrate themystery; while one or two affirmed that there was no mystery atall, but only that Mr. Hooper's eyes were so weakened by themidnight lamp as to require a shade. After a brief interval, forthcame good Mr. Hooper also, in the rear of his flock. Turning hisveiled face from one group to another, he paid due reverence to thehoary heads, saluted the middle-aged with kind dignity as theirfriend and spiritual guide, greeted the young with mingledauthority and love, and laid his hands on the little children'sheads to bless them. Such was always his custom on the Sabbath day.Strange and bewildered looks repaid him for his courtesy. None, ason former occasions, aspired to the honor of walking by theirpastor's side. Old Squire Saunders, doubtless by an accidentallapse of memory, neglected to invite Mr. Hooper to his table, wherethe good clergyman had been wont to bless the food, almost everySunday since his settlement. He returned, therefore, to theparsonage, and, at the moment of closing the door, was observed tolook back upon the people, all of whom had their eyes fixed uponthe minister. A sad smile gleamed faintly from beneath the blackveil, and flickered about his mouth, glimmering as he disappeared. "How strange," said a lady, "that a simple black veil, such as anywoman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terrible thingon Mr. Hooper's face."

"Something must surely be amiss with Hooper's intellects,"observed her husband, the physician of the village. "But thestrangest part of the affair is the effect of this vagary, even ona sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it coversonly our pastor's face, throws its influence over his whole person,and makes him ghostlike from head to foot. Do you not feel it so?"

"Truly do I," replied the lady; "and I would not be alone with himfor 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 theappearance of Mr. Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It wasnow an appropriate emblem. The clergyman stepped into the roomwhere the corpse was laid, and bent over the coffin, to take a lastfarewell of his deceased parishioner. As he stooped, the veil hungstraight down from his forehead, so that, if her eyelids had notbeen dosed forever, the dead maiden might have seen his face. CouldMr. Hooper be fearful of her glance, that he so hastily caught backthe black veil? A person who watched the interview between the deadand the living scrupled not to affirm, that, at the instant whenthe clergyman's features were disclosed, the corpse had slightlyshuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin cap, though thecountenance retained the composure of death. A superstitious oldwoman was the only witness of this prodigy. From the coffin Mr.Hooper passed into the chamber of the mourners, and thence to thehead of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a tenderand heart-dissolving prayer, full of sorrow, yet so imbued withcelestial hopes, that the music of a heavenly harp, swept by thefingers of the dead, seemed faintly to be heard among the saddestaccents of the minister. The people trembled, though they butdarkly understood him when he prayed that they, and himself, andall of mortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this young maidenhad been, for the dreadful hour that should snatch the veil fromtheir faces. The bearers went heavily forth, and the mournersfollowed, saddening all the street, with the dead before them, andMr. Hooper in his black veil behind.

"Why do- you look back?" said one in the procession to his partner."I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister and the maiden'sspirit 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 hada placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited asympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have been thrownaway. There was no quality of his disposition which made him morebeloved than this. The company at the wedding awaited his arrivalwith impatience, trusting that the strange awe, which had gatheredover him throughout the day, would now be dispelled. But such wasnot the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first thing that theireyes rested on was the same horrible black veil, which had addeddeeper gloom to the funeral, and could portend nothing but evil tothe wedding. Such was its immediate effect on the guests that acloud seemed to have rolled duskily from beneath the black crepe,and dimmed the light of the candles. The bridal pair stood upbefore the minister. But the bride's cold fingers quivered in thetremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her deathlike paleness causeda 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 ofwine to his lips, wishing happiness to the new-married couple in astrain of mild pleasantry that ought to have brightened thefeatures of the guests, like a cheerful gleam from the hearth. Atthat instant, catching a glimpse of his figure in the lookingglass, the black veil involved his own spirit in the horror withwhich it overwhelmed all others. His frame shuddered his lips grewwhite, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forthinto 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 acquaintancesmeeting in the street, and good women gossiping at their openwindows. It was the first item of news that the tavernkeeper toldto his guests. The children babbled of it on their way to school.One imitative little imp covered his face with an old blackhandkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that the panicseized himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own waggery.

It was remarkable that of all the busybodies and impertinent peoplein the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever thereappeared the slightest call for such interference, he had neverlacked advisers, nor shown himself averse to be guided by theirjudgment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree ofself-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him toconsider an indifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so wellacquainted with this amiable weakness, no individual among hisparishioners chose to make the black veil a subject of friendlyremonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neither plainlyconfessed nor carefully concealed, which caused each to shift theresponsibility upon another, till at length it was found expedientto send a deputation of the church, in order to deal with Mr.Hooper about the mystery, before it should grow into a scandal.Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. The ministerreceived them with friendly courtesy, but remained silent, afterthey were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole burden ofintroducing their important business. The topic, it might besupposed, was obvious enough. There was the black veil swathedround Mr. Hooper's forehead, and concealing every feature above hisplacid mouth, on which, at times, they could perceive theglimmering of a melancholy smile. But that piece of crepe, to theirimagination, seemed to hang down before his heart, the symbol of afearful secret between him and them. Were the veil but cast aside,they might speak freely of it, but not till then. Thus they sat aconsiderable time, speechless, confused, and shrinking uneasilyfrom Mr. Hooper's eye, which they felt to be fixed upon them withan invisible glance. Finally, the deputies returned abashed totheir constituents, pronouncing the matter too weighty to behandled, except by a council of the churches, if, indeed, it mightnot require a general synod.

But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awe withwhich the black veil had impressed all besides herself. When thedeputies returned without an explanation, or even venturing todemand one, she, with the calm energy of her character, determinedto chase away the strange cloud that appeared to be settling roundMr. Hooper, every moment more darkly than before. As his plightedwife, it should be her privilege to know what the black veilconcealed. At the minister's first visit, therefore, she enteredupon the subject with a direct simplicity, which made the taskeasier both for him and her, After he had seated himself, she fixedher eyes steadfastly upon the veil, but could discern nothing ofthe dreadful gloom that had so overawed the multitude; it was buta double fold of crepe, hanging down from his forehead to hismouth, and slightly stirring with his breath.

"No," said she aloud, and smiling, "there is nothing terrible inthis piece of crepe, except that it hides a face which I am alwaysglad to look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from behindthe cloud. First lay aside your black veil; then tell me why youput it on."

Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.

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

"Your words are a mystery, too," returned the young lady. "Takeaway the veil from them, at least."

"Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vow may suffer me.Know, then, this veil is a type and a symbol, and I am bound towear it ever, both in light and darkness, in solitude and beforethe gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my familiarfriends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. This dismal shademust separate me from the world; even you, Elizabeth, can nevercome behind it!"

"What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she earnestlyinquired, "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 typifiedby a black veil."

"But what if the world will not believe that it is the type of aninnocent sorrow?" urged Elizabeth. "Beloved and respected: as youare, there may be whispers that you hide your face under theconsciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, doaway this scandal!"

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 sadsmile, which always appeared like a faint glimmering of light,proceeding from the obscurity beneath the veil.

"If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause enough;" he merelyreplied; "and if I cover it for secret sin, what mortal might notdo the same?"

And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he resist herentreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few momeets sheappeared lost in thought, considering, probably, what new methodsmight be tried to withdraw her foyer from so dark a fantasy, which,if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom of mentaldisease. Though of a firmer character than his own, the tearsrolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a newfeeling took the place of sorrow; her eyes were fixed insensibly onthe black veil, when, like a sudden twilight in the air, itsterrors: fell around her. She arose, and stood trembling beforehim.

"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 notdesert me, though this veil must be between us here on earth. Bemine, and hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, nodarkness between our souls! It is but a mortal veil--it is not foreternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and how frightened, tobe alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in this miserableobscurity forever!"

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

"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 almostto penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But, even amid hisgrief, Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem hadseparated him from happiness, though the horrors which it shadowedforth must be drawn 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 popularprejudice, it was reckoned more an eccentric whim, such as oftenmingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rational, andtinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But with themultitude, good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear. He could notwalk the street with any peace of mind, so conscious was he thatthe gentle and timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that otherswould make it a point of hardihood to throw themselves in his way.The impertinence of the latter class compelled him to give up hiscustomary walk at sunset to the burial ground; for when he leanedpensively over the gate, there would always be faces behind thegravestones, peeping at his black veil. A fable went the roundsthat the stare of the dead people drove him thence. It grieved him,to the very depth of his kind heart, to observe how the childrenfled 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 apreternatural horror was interwoven with l the threads of the blackcrape. In truth, his own antipathy to the veil was known to be l sogreat, that he never willingly passed before a mirror, nor stoopedto drink at a still fountain, lest, in its peaceful bosom, heshould be affrighted by himself. This was what gave plausibility tothe whispers, that Mr. Hooper's conscience tortured him for somegreat crime too horrible to be entirely concealed, or. otherwisethan so obscurely intimated. Thus, from beneath the black veil,there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an ambiguity of sin orsorrow, which enveloped the poor minister, so that love or sympathycould never reach him. It was said that ghost and fiend consortedwith him there. With self-shudderings and outward terrors, hewalked continually in its l shadow, groping darkly within his ownsoul, or gazing through a medium that saddened the whole world.Even the lawless wind, it was believed, respected his dreadfulsecret, and never blew aside the veil. But still good Mr. Hoopersadly smiled at the pale visages of the worldly throng as he passedby.

Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one desirableeffect, of making its wearer a very efficient clergyman. By the aidof his mysterious emblem--for there was no other apparent cause--hebecame a man of awful power over souls that were in agony of sin.His converts always regarded him with a dread peculiar tothemselves, affirming, though but figuratively, that, before hebrought them to celestial light, they had been with him behind theblack veil. Its gloom, indeed, enabled him to sympathize with alldark affections. Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, andwould not yield their breath till he appeared; though ever, as hestooped to whisper consolation, they shuddered at the veiled faceso near their own. Such were the terrors of the black veil, evenwhen Death had bared his visage! Strangers came long distances toattend service at his church, with the mere idle purpose of gazingat his figure, because it was forbidden them to behold his face.But many were made to quake ere they departed! Once, duringGovernor Belcher's administration, Mr. Hooper was appointed topreach the election sermon. Covered with his black veil, he stoodbefore the chief magistrate, the council, and the representatives,and wrought so deep an impression, that the legislative measures ofthat year were characterized by all the gloom and piety of ourearliest ancestral sway.

In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable inoutward act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kind and loving,though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned intheir health and joy, but ever summoned to their aid in mortalanguish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sableveil, he acquired a name throughout the New England churches, andthey called him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners, whowere of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away by manya funeral; he had one congregation in the church, and a morecrowded one in the churchyard; and having wrought so late into theevening, and done his work so well, it was now good Father Hooper'sturn to rest.

Several persons were visible by the shaded candlelight, in thedeath chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connections he hadnone. But there was the decorously grave, though unmoved physician,seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the patient whom hecould not save. There were the deacons, and other eminently piousmembers of his church. There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clark, ofWestbury, a young and zealous divine, who had ridden in haste topray by the bedside of the expiring minister. There was the nurse,no hired handmaiden of death, but one whose calm affection hadendured thus long in secrecy, in solitude, amid the chill of age,and would not perish, even at the dying hour. Who, but Elizabeth!And there lay the hoary head of good Father Hooper upon the deathpillow, with the black veil still swathed about his brow, andreaching down over his face, so that each more difficult gasp ofhis faint breath caused it to stir. All through life that piece ofcrepe had hung between him and the world; it had separated him fromcheerful brotherhood and woman's love, arid kept him in thatsaddest of all prisons, his own heart; and still it lay upon hisface, as if to deepen the gloom of his darksome chamber, and shadehim 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 it were, at intervals, into the indistinctness of the world tocome. There had been feverish turns, which tossed him from side toside, and wore away what little strength he had. But in his mostconvulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries of his intellect,when no other thought retained its sober influence, he still showedan awful solicitude lest the black veil should slip aside. Even ifhis bewildered soul could have forgotten, there was a faithfulwoman at his pillow, who, with averted eyes, would have coveredthat aged face, which she had last beheld in the comeliness ofmanhood. At length the deathstricken old man lay quietly in thetorpor of mental and bodily exhaustion, with an imperceptiblepulse, and breath that grew fainter and fainter, except when along, deep, and irregular inspiration seemed to prelude the flightof his spirit.

The minister of Westbury approached the bedside.

"Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the moment of your release isat hand. Are you ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts intime from eternity?" Father Hooper at first replied merely by a feeblemotion of his head; then, apprehensive, perhaps, that his meaning might bedoubtful, he exerted himself to speak.

"Yea," said he, in faint accents, "my soul hath a patient wearinessuntil that veil be lifted."

"And is it fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, "that a man sogiven to prayer, of such a blameless example, holy in deed andthought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; is it fittingthat a father in the church should leave a shadow on his memory,that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my venerablebrother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by yourtriumphant aspect as you go to your reward. Before the veil ofeternity be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from yourface!"

And thus speaking the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to reveal themystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudden energy, that madeall the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both hishands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly on theblack veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister of Westbury wouldcontend with a dying man.

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

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

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

"Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he, turning his veiled faceround the circle of pale spectators. "Tremble also at each othersHave men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and children screamedand fled, only for my black veil? What, but the mystery which itobscurely typifies, has made this piece of crepe so awful? When thefriend shows his inmost heart to his friend; the lover to his bestbeloved; when man does not vainly shrink from the eye of hisCreator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret of his sin; then deemme a monster, for the 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 afaint smile lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him inhis coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore. him to the grave. Thegrass of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, theburial stone is moss-grown, and good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; butawful is still the thought that it moldered beneath the Black Veil!