“Where is your great humbug？” he repeated. “I challengeyou to make me see it.”
“There！” said Matthew， incensed at such perverse blindness，and turning the cynic round toward the illuminated cliff.
“Take off those abominable spectacles， and you cannothelp seeing it.”
Now， these colored spectacles probably darkened thecynic’s sight in at least as great a degree as the smokedglasses through which people gaze at an eclipse. Withresolute bravado， however， he snatched them from hisnose and fixed a bold stare full upon the ruddy blaze of theGreat Carbuncle. But scarcely had he encountered it when，with a deep， shuddering groan， he dropped his head andpressed both hands across his miserable eyes. Thenceforththere was in very truth no light of the Great Carbuncle， norany other light on earth， nor light of heaven itself， for thepoor cynic. So long accustomed to view all objects through amedium that deprived them of every glimpse of brightness，a single flash of so glorious a phenomenon， striking upon hisnaked vision， had blinded him for ever.
“Matthew，” said Hannah， clinging to him， “let us gohence.”
Matthew saw that she was faint， and， kneeling down，supported her in his arms while he threw some of thethrillingly-cold water of the enchanted lake upon her face andbosom. It revived her， but could not renovate her courage.
“Yes， dearest，” cried Matthew， pressing her tremulousform to his breast； “we will go hence and return to ourhumble cottage. The blessed sunshine and the quietmoonlight shall come through our window. We will kindlethe cheerful glow of our hearth at eventide and be happyin its light. But never again will we desire more light thanall the world may share with us.”
“No，” said his bride， “for how could we live by day orsleep by night in this awful blaze of the Great Carbuncle？”
Out of the hollow of their hands they drank each adraught from the lake， which presented them its watersuncontaminated by an earthly lip. Then， lending theirguidance to the blinded cynic， who uttered not a word，and even stifled his groans in his own most wretchedheart， they began to descend the mountain. Yet as theyleft the shore， till then untrodden， of the spirit’s lake， theythrew a farewell glance toward the cliff and beheld thevapors gathering in dense volumes， through which the gemburned duskily.
As touching the other pilgrims of the Great Carbuncle，the legend goes on to tell that the worshipful MasterIchabod Pigsnort soon gave up the quest as a desperatespeculation， and wisely resolved to betake himself again tohis warehouse， near the town-dock， in Boston. But as hepassed through the Notch of the mountains a war-partyof Indians captured our unlucky merchant and carriedhim to Montreal， there holding him in bondage till by thepayment of a heavy ransom he had woefully subtractedfrom his hoard of pine-tree shillings. By his long absence，moreover， his affairs had become so disordered that forthe rest of his life， instead of wallowing in silver， he hadseldom a sixpence-worth of copper. Doctor Cacaphodel，the alchemist， returned to his laboratory with a prodigiousfragment of granite， which he ground to powder， dissolvedin acids， melted in the crucible and burnt with theblowpipe， and published the result of his experimentsin one of the heaviest folios of the day. And for all thesepurposes the gem itself could not have answered betterthan the granite. The poet， by a somewhat similarmistake， made prize of a great piece of ice which he foundin a sunless chasm of the mountains， and swore that itcorresponded in all points with his idea of the GreatCarbuncle. The critics say that， if his poetry lacked thesplendor of the gem， it retained all the coldness of the ice.
The lord De Vere went back to his ancestral hall， wherehe contented himself with a wax-lighted chandelier， andfilled in due course of time another coffin in the ancestralvault. As the funeral torches gleamed within that darkreceptacle， there was no need of the Great Carbuncle toshow the vanity of earthly pomp.
The cynic， having cast aside his spectacles， wanderedabout the world a miserable object， and was punishedwith an agonizing desire of light for the wilful blindnessof his former life. The whole night long he would lift hissplendor-blasted orbs to the moon and stars； he turnedhis face eastward at sunrise as duly as a Persian idolater；he made a pilgrimage to Rome to witness the magnificentillumination of Saint Peter’s church， and finally perishedin the Great Fire of London， into the midst of which hehad thrust himself with the desperate idea of catchingone feeble ray from the blaze that was kindling earth andheaven.
Matthew and his bride spent many peaceful years andwere fond of telling the legend of the Great Carbuncle.
The tale， however， toward the close of their lengthenedlives， did not meet with the full credence that had beenaccorded to it by those who remembered the ancientlustre of the gem. For it is affirmed that from the hourwhen two mortals had shown themselves so simply wiseas to reject a jewel which would have dimmed all earthlythings its splendor waned. When our pilgrims reached thecliff， they found only an opaque stone with particles ofmica glittering on its surface. There is also a tradition thatas the youthful pair departed the gem was loosened fromthe forehead of the cliff and fell into the enchanted lake，and that at noontide the Seeker’s form may still be seen tobend over its quenchless gleam.
Some few believe that this inestimable stone is blazingas of old， and say that they have caught its radiance， like aflash of summer lightning， far down the valley of the Saco.
And be it owned that many a mile from the Crystal Hills Isaw a wondrous light around their summits， and was luredby the faith of poesy to be the latest pilgrim of the GreatCarbuncle.
