1835
TWICE-TOLD TALES
THE AMBITIOUS GUEST
by Nathaniel Hawthorne
ONE SEPTEMBER NIGHT a family had gathered round their hearth, and
piled it high with the driftwood of mountain streams, the dry cones of
the pine, and the splintered ruins of great trees that had come
crashing down the precipice. Up the chimney roared the fire, and
brightened the room with its broad blaze. The faces of the father
and mother had a sober gladness; the children laughed; the eldest
daughter was the image of Happiness at seventeen; and the aged
grandmother, who sat knitting in the warmest place, was the image of
Happiness grown old. They had found the "herb, heart's-ease," in the
bleakest spot of all New England. This family were situated in the
Notch of the White Hills, where the wind was sharp throughout the
year, and pitilessly cold in the winter- giving their cottage all
its fresh inclemency before it descended on the valley of the Saco.
They dwelt in a cold spot and a dangerous one; for a mountain
towered above their heads, so steep, that the stones would often
rumble down its sides and startle them at midnight.
The daughter had just uttered some simple jest that filled them all
with mirth, when the wind came through the Notch and seemed to pause
before their cottage- rattling the door, with a sound of wailing and
lamentation, before it passed into the valley.
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