Summary

Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne Nathaniel Hawthorne The Great Stone Face, and Other Tales of the White Mountains

Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout, and evidently with as much good faith as ever, the people bellowed ‘He is the very image of the Great Stone Face!’ But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewdness of that sordid visage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gathering mist, gilded by the last sunbeams, he could still distinguish those glorious features which had impressed themselves into his soul. Their aspect cheered 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.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne Nathaniel Hawthorne The Great Stone Face, and Other Tales of the White Mountains

He pointed to the volume. ‘Are not those thoughts divine?’
‘They have a strain of the Divinity,’ replied the poet. ‘You can hear in them the far-off echo of a heavenly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corresponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams, but they have been only dreams, because I have lived—and that, too, by my own choice among poor and mean realities. Sometimes, even—shall I dare to say it?—-I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the goodness, which my own works are said to have made more evident in nature and in human life.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Nathaniel Hawthorne Nathaniel Hawthorne The Great Stone Face, and Other Tales of the White Mountains

They gazed back at the obscure wilderness which they had traversed, and longed to be buried again in its depths rather than trust themselves to so vast and visible a solitude.
‘Shall we go on?’ said Matthew, throwing his arm round Hannah’s waist, both to protect her and to comfort his heart by drawing her close to it.
But the little bride, simple as she was, had a woman’s love of jewels, and could not forego the hope of possessing the very brightest in the world, in spite of the perils with which it must be won.
Source: Gutenberg

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