Gaut Gurley | Page 3

which form such a drawback to the coast-clime of

New England, were fitfully wailing over the drear and frost-blackened
landscape, and the wayfarers, as if keenly alive to the discomforts of all
without, were seen everywhere hurrying forward to reach those
comforts within which were heralded in the cheerful gleams that shot
from many a window, when a showy and conspicuous mansion, in the
environs of Boston, was observed to be lighted up to an extent, and
with a brilliancy, that betokened the advent of some ambitious display
on the part of the bustling inmates. Carriages from different parts of the
city were successively arriving, discharging their loads of gaily-dressed
ladies and gentlemen at the door, and rattling off again at the crack of
the whips of the pert and jauntily equipped drivers. Others on foot, and
from the more immediate neighborhood, were, in couples and singly,
for some time constantly dropping in to swell the crowd, witness, and
perhaps add to, the attractions of the occasion, which was obviously
one of those social gatherings that have been sometimes, in
conventional phrase, not inaptly denominated a _jam_; where people
go to be in the fashion, to see, be seen, and try as hard as they can to be
happy; but where the aggregate of happiness enjoyed is probably far
less, as a general rule, than would be enjoyed by the same company at
home in the pursuit of their ordinary avocations.
Meanwhile, as the guests were assembling and being conducted to the
withdrawing rooms, through the cash-bought and obsequious politeness
of some of the troop of waiters hired for the occasion, the master of the
mansion had taken his station in the nook of a window commanding the
common entrance, and was there stealthily noting, as the company,
severally or one group after another, mounted the doorsteps, who had
honored his cards of invitation whom he wished to see there, and who
had come whom he wished to have stayed away. He was a well-favored
man, somewhat past the middle age of life, with regular features, and a
good general appearance, but with one of those unsettled, fluctuating
countenances which are usually found in men who, while affecting,
perhaps, a show of independence, lack self-reliance, fixed principles, or
some other of the essential elements of character. And such indeed was
Mark Elwood, the reputedly wealthy merchant whom we have thus
introduced as one of the leading personages of our story. Though often
moved with kind and generous impulses, he yet was governed by no
settled principles of benevolence; though often shrewd and sagacious,

he yet possessed no true wisdom; and, though often bold and resolute
in action, he yet lacked the faith and firmness of true courage. In short,
he might be regarded as a fair representative of the numerous class we
are daily meeting with in life,--men who do many good things, but
more questionable ones; who undertake much, accomplish little; bustle,
agitate, and thus contrive to occupy the largest space in public attention;
but who, when sifted, are found, as Pope maliciously says of women, to
"have no character at all."
After pursuing his observations a while, with an air of disappointment
or indifference, Elwood was about to turn away, when his eye caught a
glimpse of an approaching group of guests, whose appearance at once
lighted up his countenance with a smile of satisfaction, and he
half-ejaculated: "There they come!--the solid men of Boston. The
presence of these, with the others who will all serve as trumpeters of
the affair, will quell every suspicion of my credit till some new strike
shall place me beyond danger. Yes, just as I calculated, the money
spent will be the cunningest investment I have made these six months.
But who is that tagging along alone after the rest?" he added, his
countenance suddenly changing to a troubled look, and slowly, and
with a strange emphasis, pronouncing the name, "GAUT GURLEY!"
he hurried away from his post of observation.
The person whose obviously unexpected appearance among the
arriving guests had so much disturbed our host, having leisurely
brought up the rear, now paused a few paces from the door, and took a
deliberate survey of all that was visible through the windows of the
scene passing within. He was a man of a personal appearance not likely
to be forgotten. His strong, upright, well-proportioned frame, full,
rounded head, and unexceptionable features, were unusually well
calculated to arrest the attention, and, at a little distance especially, to
secure the favorable impressions of others; but those impressions faded
away, or gave place to opposite emotions, on a nearer approach, for
then the beholder read something in the countenance that met his,
which made him pause,--something which he could not fathom, but
which at once disinclined