As I have said above, it had already been rumored in the valleythat Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the prophetic personage solong and vainly looked for, and that his visage was the perfect andundeniable similitude of the Great Stone Face. People were the moreready to believe that this must needs be the fact, when they beheldthe splendid edifice that rose, as if by enchantment, on the site ofhis father's old weather-beaten farm-house. The exterior was ofmarble, so dazzlingly white that it seemed as though the wholestructure might melt away in the sunshine, like those humbler oneswhich Mr. Gathergold, in his young play-days, before his fingerswere gifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accustomed tobuild of snow. It had a richly ornamented portico, supported by tallpillars, beneath which was a lofty door, studded with silver knobs,and made of a kind of variegated wood that had been brought frombeyond the sea. The windows, from the floor to the ceiling of eachstately apartment, were composed, respectively, of but one enormouspane of glass, so transparently pure that it was said to be a finermedium than even the vacant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had beenpermitted to see the interior of this palace; but it was reported, andwith good semblance of truth, to be far more gorgeous than theoutside, insomuch that whatever was iron or brass in other houses, wassilver or gold in this; and Mr. Gathergold's bed-chamber,especially, made such a glittering appearance that no ordinary manwould have been able to close his eyes there. But, on the otherhand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured to wealth, that perhaps hecould not have closed his eyes unless where the gleam of it wascertain to find its way beneath his eyelids.
In due time, the mansion was finished; next came theupholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then, a whole troop of blackand white servants, the harbingers of Mr. Gathergold, who, in hisown majestic person was expected to arrive at sunset. Our friendErnest, meanwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea that thegreat man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many ages ofdelay, was at length to be made manifest to his native valley. Heknew, boy as he was, that there were a thousand ways in which Mr.
Gathergold, with his vast wealth, might transform himself into anangel of beneficence, and assume a control over human affairs aswide and benignant as the smile of the Great Stone Face. Full of faithand hope, Ernest doubted not that what the people said was true, andthat now he was to behold the living likeness of those wondrousfeatures on the mountain-side. While the boy was still gazing up thevalley, and fancying, as he always did, that the Great Stone Facereturned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the rumbling of wheels washeard, approaching swiftly along the winding road.
"Here he comes!" cried a group of people who were assembled towitness the arrival. "Here comes the great Mr. Gathergold!"A carriage, drawn by four horses, dashed round the turn of theroad. Within it, thrust partly out of the window, appeared thephysiognomy of a little old man, with a skin as yellow as if his ownMidas-hand had transmuted it. He had a low forehead, small, sharpeyes, puckered about with innumerable wrinkles, and very thin lips,which he made still thinner by pressing them forcibly together.
"The very image of the Great Stone Face!" shouted the people. "Sureenough, the old prophecy is true; and here we have the great man come,at last!"And, what greatly perplexed Ernest, they seemed actually to believethat here was the likeness which they spoke of. By the roadsidethere chanced to be an old beggar-woman and two littlebeggar-children, stragglers from some far-off region, who, as thecarriage rolled onward, held out their hands and lifted up theirdoleful voices, most piteously beseeching charity. A yellow claw-the very same that had clawed together so much wealth- poked itselfout of the coach-window, and dropt some copper coins upon theground; so that, though the great man's name seems to have beenGathergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamedScattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout, andevidently with as much good faith as ever, the people bellowed, "He isthe very image of the Great Stone Face!"But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewdness of that sordidvisage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gathering mist,gilded by the last sunbeams, he could still distinguish those gloriousfeatures which had impressed themselves into his soul. Their aspectcheered him. What did the benign lips seem to say?
"He will come! Fear not, Ernest; the man will come!"The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had grown tobe a young man now. He attracted little notice from the otherinhabitants of the valley; for they saw nothing remarkable in hisway of life, save that, when the labor of the day was over, he stillloved to go apart and gaze and meditate upon the Great Stone Face.
According to their idea of the matter, it was a folly, indeed, butpardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was industrious, kind, andneighborly, and neglected no duty for the sake of indulging thisidle habit. They knew not that the Great Stone Face had become ateacher to him, and that the sentiment which was expressed in it wouldenlarge the young man's heart, and fill it with wider and deepersympathies than other hearts. They knew not that thence would come abetter wisdom than could be learned from books, and a better life thancould be moulded on the defaced example of other human lives.
