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 in thesentiment of the discourse itself, or in the imagination of theauditors, which made it greatly the most powerful effort that they hadever heard from their pastor's lips. It was tinged, rather more darklythan usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's temperament. Thesubject had reference to secret sin, and those sad mysteries whichwe hide from our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal fromour own consciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient candetect them. A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each memberof the congregation, the most innocent girl, and the man of hardenedbreast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind hisawful veil, and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed orthought. Many spread their clasped hands on their bosoms. There wasnothing terrible in what Mr. Hooper said, at least, no violence; andyet, with every tremor of his melancholy voice, the hearers quaked. Anunsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So sensible were theaudience of some unwonted attribute in their minister, that theylonged for a breath of wind to blow aside the veil, almost believingthat a stranger's visage would be discovered, 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 closely together,with their mouths all whispering in the centre; some went homewardalone, wrapt in silent meditation; some talked loudly, and profanedthe Sabbath day with ostentatious laughter. A few shook theirsagacious heads, intimating that they could penetrate the mystery;while one or two affirmed that there was no mystery at all, but onlythat Mr. Hooper's eyes were so weakened by the midnight lamp, as torequire a shade. After a brief interval, forth came good Mr. Hooperalso, in the rear of his flock. Turning his veiled face from one groupto another, he paid due reverence to the hoary heads, saluted themiddle aged with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide,greeted the young with mingled authority and love, and laid hishands on the little children's heads to bless them. Such was alwayshis custom on the Sabbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid himfor his courtesy. None, as on former occasions, aspired to the honorof walking by their pastor's side. Old Squire Saunders, doubtless byan accidental lapse of memory, neglected to invite Mr. Hooper to histable, where the good clergyman had been wont to bless the food,almost every Sunday since his settlement. He returned, therefore, tothe parsonage, and, at the moment of closing the door, was observed tolook back upon the people, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon theminister. A sad smile gleamed faintly from beneath the black veil, andflickered about his mouth, glimmering as he disappeared.
"How strange," said a lady, "that a simple black veil, such asany woman might wear on her bonnet, should become such a terriblething on Mr. Hooper's face!""Something must surely be amiss with Mr. Hooper's intellects,"observed her husband, the physician of the village. "But the strangestpart of the affair is the effect of this vagary, even on asober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it covers onlyour pastor's face, throws its influence over his whole person, andmakes him ghostlike from head to foot. Do you not feel it so?""Truly do I," replied the lady; "and I would not be alone withhim for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alone withhimself!""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. Therelatives 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 room wherethe corpse was laid, and bent over the coffin, to take a last farewellof his deceased parishioner. As he stooped, the veil hung straightdown from his forehead, so that, if her eyelids had not been closedforever, the dead maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper befearful of her glance, that he so hastily caught back the blackveil? A person who watched the interview between the dead andliving, scrupled not to affirm, that, at the instant when theclergyman's features were disclosed, the corpse had slightlyshuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin cap, though thecountenance retained the composure of death. A superstitious old womanwas the only witness of this prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooperpassed into the chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head of thestaircase, to make the funeral prayer. It was a tender andheart-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 but darklyunderstood him when he prayed that they, and himself, and all ofmortal race, might be ready, as he trusted this young maiden had been,for the dreadful hour that should snatch the veil from their faces.
