Seven years had changed Hester. She had grown strong and thoughtful, and the letter on her breast had lost some of its terror. Seeing how her old husband was slowly destroying the minister, she could be silent no longer. She met Dimmesdale in the forest, on the mossy trunk of a fallen tree beside a brook, and told him who the physician was. He hid his face in his hands. Then she begged him to flee with her across the sea and begin again. He answered that he had no strength to go alone. Thou shalt not go alone, said she. Hester undid the clasp of the scarlet letter, threw it far among the withered leaves and let down her dark, rich hair. What we did had a consecration of its own, she said. But Pearl, playing by the brook, would not come to them until her mother had fastened the letter on her breast again.