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THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN
GABLES
By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE OF your courtesy, I beg you to call this tale a Romance, rather than a Novel; for it makes attempt to connect a bygone time with the present that is even now drifting away from us. It is a legend, bringing with it the Mist of the Past floating round each character and event-even round the old house itself. Sometimes it drifts aside and you catch a glimpse of older days-days when Colonel Pyncheon, out of pure covetousness, de-spoiled old Wizard Maule of his house and little plot of land-days when Maule cursed the colonel for his sins and foretold, "God would give him blood to drink! "-days when Thomas Maule, son of the Wizard, built for Colonel Pyncheon, over his father's very threshold, the House of the Seven Gables. On the day when Hepzibah Pyncheon trod her pride underfoot and opened the little cent-shop, built in the front gable of the old house, there were but few of the Pyncheon blood left. Judge Pyncheon, his son (who died abroad and enters not into this tale), Hepzibah and her brother Clifford, little Phoebe Pyncheon (who had come for a long visit) and a few cousins, were all. The race of Maule was supposed extinct-at least there were none known. Long since Hester had let one of the gables to a daguerrotypist named Holgrave; and none others were in the old house save herself and Clifford (now pardoned out after serving sentence for the supposed murder of an uncle), and little Phcebe. Judge Pyncheon was the great man of the town, but, despite his ever-ready smile and studied benevolence, he was not greatly liked. Hepzibah shrank away from him and Clifford shrieked when he would have forced his way in to see him. Hepzibah and Clifford scarce left the house even for the garden; but Phoebe and young Holgrave met there often, and the kindly Mist made itself thin between them till they saw each other clear and their hearts drew close and love came to them-but so softly and sweetly they knew it not for love, but called it by that other sweet name-friendship. Then Phoebe must needs go home-and with her went all the sunshine; and the Mist drifted back-and all the scant happiness that had come with her to Hepzibah and Clifford for a little, fled away. When she had gone, the judge became even more determined to see Clifford. "Cousin Hepzibah," he begged, with his most benevolent smile, "let me see Clifford." "You cannot," said Hepzibah. "Since yesterday he hath kept his bed." "What?" cried the judge. "Is he ill? Then I must and will see him. There is none who would so delight to promote his happiness and well-being. I beg of you to let me see him, Hepzibah." "In the name of Heaven!" cried Hepzibah, her anger overcoming her fear, "give over, I beseech you, this loathsome pretense of affection for your victim. You let him go to prison under false accusation. You hate him! Say so, like a man! At this moment you cherish some black purpose against him in your heart ! Speak it out ! But never speak again of your love for my poor brother." The judge's benevolent countenance be-came hard. "Cousin Hepzibah," he said, "it is my fixed purpose to see Clifford before I leave this house. I will give you my reason. Of my uncle's estate, which I inherited, not one-third was apparent when he died. Clifford can give me a clue to the recovery of the remainder. It is as certain as that I stand here!" "And what if he refuse?" "My dear cousin," smiled the judge, blandly, "the alternative is his confinement for the remainder of his life in a public asylum for the insane." "You cannot mean it!" cried Hester; but the judge only shrugged his shoulders and said: "Time flie$. Bid Clifford come to me." And Hester turned and went slowly up the stair and knocked at her brother's door, and called. None answered. After^ long waiting, she knocked again; then she undid the door and entered-+the chamber was empty. Back she ran 'down the stair, calling frantically : "Clifford is gone! Help, Jaffrey Pyncheon! Some harm will come to him!" She ran through the hall, calling and searching for him. When she approached the parlor door again Clifford stood in the door, coming from within. He pointed his finger back into the room. "Come, Hepzibah!" he cried, with a wild gesture. "The weight is gone from us! We can sing and laugh now. Aye, we can be as light-hearted as little Phoebe herself." Horror-stricken at his looks and motions, Hepzibah slipped past him into the parlor. Almost immediately she returned, a cry choking in her throat. "My God!" she cried. "What will become of us ! " "Come with me ! " cried Clifford, still with that wild gaiety. "Put on your cloak and hood, take your purse with money in it, and come!" Still with that wild gaiety so foreign to him, Clifford led the way, first to the depot, where he made her take the train. When they left it at an out-of-the-way station, still leading, he drifted away with her into the cold, sullen Mist. With the day came many people to the cent-shop, but none gained admittance; but when Phoebe came the garden door opened for her. A hand clasped hers and she was led into the disused reception-room. The sun streamed in through the uncurtained windows and she saw her companion was Holgrave. He told her the judge was dead-in the same manner as his ancestor, "To whom God had given blood to drink!" He convinced her that the uncle, for whose supposed murder Clifford had suffered for thirty years, had died in the same fashion. "We must not hide it a moment longer!" cried Phoebe. "Clifford is innocent! God will make it manifest! Let us throw the door wide and call the neighbors to see the truth." "Wait!" begged Holgrave. "Phoebe, in all our lives therc can never be another moment like this. Is it all terror? Are you conscious of no joy, as I am, that has made this the only point of life worth living for?" "It seems a sin," faltered Phoebe, "to speak of joy at such a time." "Phoebe," cried Holgrave, "before you came my past was lonely and dreary, my future seemed a shapeless gloom. With you came hope, warmth, and joy. I love you, Phoebe. Do you love me?" "Look into my heart," said Phoebe, dropping her eyes. "You know I love you." At that moment, the mingled voices of Hepzibah and Clifford came to them. Phoebe and her lover went to meet them. Hepzibah, when she saw them, burst into tears; Clifford smiled and murmured that the rose of Eden had bloomed in the old house at last. By the death of Judge Pyncheon, Hepzibah, Clifford, and Phoebe became rich. They decided to live at the judge's country-place. At the very moment of departure, through Clifford's troubled mind drifted a recollection of the time when, a mere boy, he had discovered the secret spring which caused the portrait of the colonel (before which they stood) to swing forward, disclosing a recess wherein were important papers. But he had forgotten the secret of the spring. "Perhaps I can recall it," said Holgrave, and touched the spring. It was much rusted, and, therefore, when released, the portrait tumbled to the floor. There was the recess, and there the title-deeds to vast Indian lands-old Jaffrey Pyncheon's missing property. "But how came you to know the secret of the spring?" Phcebe asked of Holgrave, apart. "My dearest Phcebe," smiled Holgrave, "how will it please you to take the name of Maule? This secret is the only inheritance that has come down to me from that ancestor. When Thomas, son of Wizard Maule, built this house he took the opportunity to construct this recess and hide away those title-deeds. I would have told you all this before, but I feared to frighten you." Phoebe's smile forgave him, and as their carriage rolled away, the old House of the Seven Gables, freed from its burden of secret and curse, smiled after them brightly as the Mist lifted and fled away. |