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The Birthmark. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. The birthmark was nature’s flaw , but what nature could not perfect, science could. A ylmer gazed unhappily at his wife, Georgianna, across the room. She was beautiful, except for a small birthmark on her cheek.
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The Birthmark By Nathaniel Hawthorne
The birthmark was nature’s flaw, but what nature could not perfect, science could.
Aylmer gazed unhappily at his wife, Georgianna, across the room. She was beautiful, except for a small birthmark on her cheek.
Aylmer was a scientist, not a doctor, and before he married Georgianna, he had scarcely noticed the mark.
But for a week now, it had been troubling him. It was like a stain upon white marble. He had begun to hate it.
“My dear,” he ventured one day, “has it ever occurred to you that the mark upon your cheek could be removed?”
Georgianna smiled uneasily. “It is so faint, I often forget it is even there.”
“To tell you the truth, it has been so often called a charm that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so.”
“Upon another face perhaps it might,” replied her husband, “but never on yours. I find it shocking!”
Georgianna was alarmed. “Shocking!” she cried, deeply hurt, at first reddening with momentary anger but then bursting into tears.
“Then why did you take me from my mother’s side? You cannot love what shocks you!”
The singular mark was deeply interwoven with the texture of her face.
Georgianna’s complexion was healthy and delicate, and the birthmark was a tint of deep crimson, which also outlined its shape amid the surrounding rosiness.
When she blushed, it gradually became more indistinct and finally vanished amid the rush of blood that bathed the whole cheek with its brilliant glow.
But if any shifting motion caused her to turn pale, there was the mark again. Although quite small, its shape bore a similarity to the human hand.
Aylmer stood, agitated now. The birthmark was a fatalflaw of nature. “If it were not for the mark, you would be perfect!”
He was a scientist. He had spent his entire life in his laboratory, working on perfecting what nature could not.
A simple birthmark was a small thing compared with the larger experiments with which he was concerned. But he said nothing more.
Day after day, whenever she looked up, Georgianna found Aylmer staring at her, sometimes with a look of appalled disgust.
Georgianna soon learned to shudder at his gaze. A glance from him would change her rosy cheeks into a deathlike paleness causing the crimson birthmark to stand out.
Late one night, when the lights were growing dim so as hardly to betray the stain on the poor wife’s cheek, she herself, for the first time, brought up the topic of the birthmark.
“Do you remember, my dear Aylmer,” she said with a feeble attempt at a smile, “having a dream last night about this odious birthmark?”
“None! None whatever!” replied Aylmer, startled that somehow his wife had read his nightmare.
But then he added, in a dry, cold tone, trying not to betray his emotions, “I might have dreamed of it. Perhaps I did, for I have thought of the mark often before I fall asleep.”
“You did dream of it!” she pressed. “It was a terrible dream! I wonder how you can forget it. I heard you speaking in your sleep.”
“You cried out, ‘It is in her heart now; we must have it out!’ Do you not remember the dream now?”
Indeed, he did remember. It was very clear to him. He was in his laboratory, and he was pressing the blade of a knife into the soft skin of Georgianna’s cheek.
The deeper he cut, the deeper the birthmark sank. He could not get to the root of it. Aylmer had awakened in a cold sweat.
Beside him, Georgianna was sleeping peacefully. The mark was still there, as grotesque to him as ever.
“Aylmer,” resumed Georgianna solemnly, “I know not what may be the cost to both of us to rid me of this fatal birthmark.”
“Perhaps its removal may cause cureless deformity, or it may be the stain goes as deep as life itself. But let the attempt be made. You have learned science.”
“Cannot you remove this little, little mark, which I can cover with the tips of two small fingers? Is this beyond your power?”
“To do this would give you peace and save your poor wife from madness.”
Aylmer beamed. “Noblest, dearest, tenderest wife,” he cried, “please do not doubt my power. I have already given this matter the deepest thought.”
“I feel fully competent to remove the mark without error or danger to you. I shall make you perfect!”
Aylmer kissed his wife’s cheek—her unblemished cheek. “No one will equal your beauty,” he promised.
“Is that so important to you, Aylmer?” Georgianna asked with sadness in her voice.
“Your happiness is what is important to me,” he answered. “And you have just admitted that you are dreadfully unhappy knowing how the mark disturbs me.
The dream he had dreamed was only foolishness. Aylmer had no intention of removing the birthmark by an operation.
He had a different method, a chemical solution. For days, then weeks, he worked in his laboratory until at last he had discovered the right combination of chemicals.
With the liquid mixed and ready, Aylmer drew his wife into the laboratory.
As she stepped over the threshold, Georgianna was cold and tremulous. Aylmer looked cheerfully into her pale face, with intent to reassure her.
He was so startled with the intense glow of the birthmark that he shuddered violently. His wife fainted.
Quickly, he lifted her and carried her into a private room where he sometimes slept and studied.
When Georgianna recovered consciousness, she found herself breathing a sweet, penetrating fragrance.
“Where am I? Ah, I remember,” she said faintly, and she placed her hand over her cheek to hide the terrible mark from her husband’s eyes.
The scene around her looked like enchantment. Aylmer had converted the smoky, dingy, somber room into a beautiful apartment.