Gaut Gurley | Page 4

him to any acquaintance with the man to
whom that countenance belonged.
Perhaps it should be viewed as one of the kindest provisions of
Providence, made in aid of our rights and instincts of self-preservation,

that man should not be able wholly to hide the secrets of his heart from
his fellow-men,--that the human countenance should be so formed that
no schooling, however severe, can prevent it from betraying the evil
thoughts and purposes which may be lurking within. It is said that God
alone can read the secrets of the heart; but we have often thought that
He has imparted to us more of this attribute of His omniscience than
that which is vouchsafed us in any one of our other faculties; or, in
other words, that, to the skill we may acquire by practice in reading the
countenance, He has added something of the light of intuition, to
enable us to pierce into the otherwise impenetrable recesses of the
bosom, and thus guard ourselves against the designs which may there
be disclosed, and which, but for that, the deceptions of the tongue
might forever conceal. All this, we are aware, may pass as a mere
supposition; yet we think its correctness will be very generally attested
by officers of justice, policemen, jailers, and all those who have had
much experience in the detection of crime.
But, whether the doctrine is applicable or not in the generality of cases,
it was certainly so in that of the unbidden guest whose appearance we
have attempted to describe. Unlike Elwood, he had character, but all
those who closely noted him were made to feel that his character was a
dark and dangerous one.
After Gaut, for such he was called among his acquaintance, had
leisurely run his eye from window to window of the many lighted
apartments of the house, and scanned, as he did, with many a sneering
smile, the appearances within, as long as suited his pleasure, he boldly
walked in, and, with all the assurance of the most favored, proceeded to
mingle with the company.
On quitting his lookout, Elwood repaired to the reception-room, where
Mrs. Elwood, the mistress of the mansion, was already in waiting,
nerving herself to perform, as acceptably as she could, her part of the
stereotyped ceremony of receiving the guests, and exchanging with
them the salutations and commonplaces of the evening. Mrs. Elwood,
though not beautiful, nor even handsome, was yet every way a comely
woman; and the quiet dignity and the unpretending simplicity of her
manner, together with a certain intelligent and appreciating cast of
countenance, which always rested on her placid, features, seldom failed
to impress those who approached her with feelings of kindness and

respect. She looked pale and fatigued, from the labors and anxieties she
had gone through in the preparations for the present occasion; and, in
addition to this, which is ever the penalty to the mistress of the house in
getting up a large party, there was an air of sadness in her looks that
told of secret sorrows which were not much mitigated by all the show
of wealth that surrounded her.
By this time the company, having mostly arrived and divested
themselves of hats, gloves, bonnets, shawls, together with all other of
the loose etceteras of dress then in vogue, and carefully consulted the
confidential mirrors to secure that adjustment of collars, curls, smirks,
and smiles which are deemed most favorable for effect in public, were
now shown into the suit of apartments where the host and hostess were
waiting to receive them.
But it is far from our purpose to attempt a detailed description of the
thousand little nothings which go to make up the character of one of
these great fashionable parties. Who ever came from one the wiser?
Not one guest in ten, probably, is found engaged in a conversation in
which the ordinary powers of the speaker are exercised. A forced glee
and smartness seem everywhere to prevail among the company, who
are continually sacrificing their common sense in their eager attempts
to appear gay and witty. Who was ever made really happier by being in
such an assemblage? Although the participants may exhibit to casual
observation the semblance of enjoyment, yet a close inspection will
show that they are only _acting_, and that, as we have already
intimated, their apparent enjoyment is no more deserving the name of
social happiness than that which is often represented as enjoyed by a
company of stage actors, in the harassing performance of the fictitious
scenes of some genteel comedy. Who was ever made any better? Any
rational discussion tending to exalt or purify the mind would be
deemed out of place; and any moral teachings would be ridiculed or
find no listeners. And, finally, who