Amidst these pleasant and praiseworthy meditations，Goodman Brown heard the tramp of horses along theroad， and deemed it advisable to conceal himself withinthe verge of the forest， conscious of the guilty purposethat had brought him thither， though now so happilyturned from it.
On came the hoof-tramps and the voices of the riders，two grave old voices， conversing soberly as they drewnear. These mingled sounds appeared to pass along theroad， within a few yards of the young man’s hiding-place；but owing， doubtless， to the depth of the gloom， at thatparticular spot， neither the travellers nor their steedswere visible. Though their figures brushed the smallboughs by the way-side， it could not be seen that theyintercepted， even for a moment， the faint gleam from thestrip of bright sky， athwart which they must have passed.
Goodman Brown alternately crouched and stood on tiptoe，pulling aside the branches， and thrusting forth hishead as far as he durst， without discerning so much as ashadow. It vexed him the more， because he could havesworn， were such a thing possible， that he recognized thevoices of the minister and Deacon Gookin， jogging alongquietly， as they were wont to do， when bound to someordination or ecclesiastical council. While yet withinhearing， one of the riders stopped to pluck a switch.
“Of the two， reverend Sir，” said the voice like the deacon’s，“I had rather miss an ordination-dinner than tonight’smeeting. They tell me that some of our community areto be here from Falmouth and beyond， and others fromConnecticut and Rhode-Island； besides several of theIndian powows， who， after their fashion， know almost asmuch deviltry as the best of us. Moreover， there is a goodlyyoung woman to be taken into communion.”
“Mighty well， Deacon Gookin！” replied the solemnold tones of the minister. “Spur up， or we shall be late.
Nothing can be done， you know， until I get on theground.”
The hoofs clattered again， and the voices， talking sostrangely in the empty air， passed on through the forest，where no church had ever been gathered， nor solitaryChristian prayed. Whither， then， could these holy men bejourneying， so deep into the heathen wilderness？ YoungGoodman Brown caught hold of a tree， for support，being ready to sink down on the ground， faint andoverburthened with the heavy sickness of his heart. Helooked up to the sky， doubting whether there really was aHeaven above him. Yet， there was the blue arch， and thestars brightening in it.
“With Heaven above， and Faith below， I will yet standfirm against the devil！” cried Goodman Brown.
While he still gazed upward， into the deep arch ofthe firmament， and had lifted his hands to pray， a cloud，though no wind was stirring， hurried across the zenith，and hid the brightening stars. The blue sky was still visible，except directly overhead， where this black mass of cloudwas sweeping swiftly northward. Aloft in the air， as if fromthe depths of the cloud， came a confused and doubtfulsound of voices. Once， the listener fancied that he coulddistinguish the accent of town’s-people of his own， menand women， both pious and ungodly， many of whom hehad met at the communion-table， and had seen othersrioting at the tavern. The next moment， so indistinct werethe sounds， he doubted whether he had heard aught butthe murmur of the old forest， whispering without a wind.
Then came a stronger swell of those familiar tones， hearddaily in the sunshine， at Salem village， but never， until now，from a cloud of night. There was one voice， of a youngwoman， uttering lamentations， yet with an uncertainsorrow， and entreating for some favor， which， perhaps， itwould grieve her to obtain. And all the unseen multitude，both saints and sinners， seemed to encourage her onward.
“Faith！” shouted Goodman Brown， in a voice of agonyand desperation； and the echoes of the forest mockedhim， crying — “Faith！ Faith！” as if bewildered wretcheswere seeking her， all through the wilderness.
The cry of grief， rage， and terror， was yet piercing thenight， when the unhappy husband held his breath for aresponse. There was a scream， drowned immediately in alouder murmur of voices， fading into far-off laughter， asthe dark cloud swept away， leaving the clear and silent skyabove Goodman Brown. But something fluttered lightlydown through the air， and caught on the branch of a tree.
The young man seized it， and beheld a pink ribbon.
“My Faith is gone！” cried he， after one stupefiedmoment. “There is no good on earth； and sin is but aname. Come， devil！ for to thee is this world given.”
And maddened with despair， so that he laughed loudand long， did Goodman Brown grasp his staff and setforth again， at such a rate， that he seemed to fly along theforest-path， rather than to walk or run. The road grewwilder and drearier， and more faintly traced， and vanishedat length， leaving him in the heart of the dark wilderness，still rushing onward， with the instinct that guides mortalman to evil. The whole forest was peopled with frightfulsounds； the creaking of the trees， the howling of wildbeasts， and the yell of Indians； while， sometimes the windtolled like a distant church-bell， and sometimes gavea broad roar around the traveller， as if all Nature werelaughing him to scorn. But he was himself the chief horrorof the scene， and shrank not from its other horrors.
“Ha！ ha！ ha！” roared Goodman Brown， when the windlaughed at him. “Let us hear which will laugh loudest！
Think not to frighten me with your deviltry！ Come witch，come wizard， come Indian powow， come devil himself！ andhere comes Goodman Brown. You may as well fear him ashe fear you！”