His head being turned back, he passed a crook of the road, and looking
forward again, beheld the figure of a man, in grave and decent attire,
seated at the foot of an old tree. He arose, at Goodman Brown's approach,
and walked onward, side by side with him.
"You are late, Goodman Brown," said he. "The clock of the Old South
was striking, as I came through Boston; and that is full fifteen minutes
agone."
"Faith kept me back awhile," replied the young man, with a tremor in
his voice, caused by the sudden appearance of his companion, though not
wholly unexpected.
It was now deep dusk in the forest, and deepest in that part of it where
these two were journeying. As nearly as could be discerned, the second
traveller was about fifty years old, apparently in the same rank of life
as Goodman Brown, and bearing a considerable resemblance to him, though
perhaps more in expression than features. Still, they might have been taken
for father and son. And yet, though the elder person was as simply clad
as the younger, and as simple in manner too, he had an indescribable air
of one who knew the world, and would not have felt abashed at the governor's
dinner-table, or in King William's court, were it possible that his affairs
should call him thither. But the only thing about him, that could be fixed
upon as remarkable, was his staff, which bore the likeness of a great black
snake, so curiously wrought, that it might almost be seen to twist and
wriggle itself like a living serpent. This, of course, must have been an
ocular deception, assisted by the uncertain light.
