All language subtitles for 1940 The House Of The Seven Gables

I'm coming.

All right, I'm hurrying.

Oh, what a night.
What a night.

Isn't it wonderful? You wouldn't think
so had you traveled 80 miles through it.

Yes, I would.

Welcome home, Cousin Jaffrey. Thank you.
Where's my father?

He's been in the village
since early afternoon.

I've kept supper warm for him.
Oh, Hepzibah,

in the three years you've
been here from the country,

haven't you learned to call it dinner?
No. Will you have some?

Oh, no, thank you.
I'll have some tea.

And, Hepzibah?
Yes, Jaffrey.

What's all this confounded mystery?
What mystery?

My dear cousin, your innocence
is far too elaborate.

Why was I suddenly called home,

summoned like a schoolboy?

I'm sure your father
will be here very soon, Jaffrey.

Yes, I'm sure he will, but
answer my question. Why?

I was in the midst
of my first important case.

Young lawyers don't find clients
growing on trees in Boston nowadays.

Even if they have made excellent
reputations for themselves.

♪♪

So Clifford is still
banging and bellowing, eh?

You'll be proud
of your brother now.

I'll forego the pride
if only I'm spared the noise.

♪♪

Bring the tea up here, Hepzibah.

Yes, Cousin Jaffrey.

♪♪

Well, if it isn't the pride of
the Pyncheons. Welcome home.

Good evening.
Same old Jaff.

Been away two years and all you
can manage is "Good evening."

Well, it is evening, I believe.

Uh, you know, Jaff, you're no longer
the only success in the family.

I've sold a composition. Quite
a remarkable piece of music.

Shall I play it for you? I-I'd much
rather know why Father sent for me.

He'll tell you all about that.
Just think, Jaff.

Pond and Company, the greatest music
house in the world, publishing me.

Splendid. Splendid.

My legal colleagues
will be most impressed.

My brother...
A musician, a gypsy.

- Shocking, isn't it?
- Boston might think so.

Boston?
That provincial outpost.

They won't see me for years.

No, it's New York for me,
old fella, and then Europe.

Come in.

Your father has returned.

Now, perhaps, I might be
honored with some information.

You weren't very kind to him,
were you, Clifford?

There's so little kindness
in my small heart,

I must keep it all for you.

You know, I don't think it's a very
good
idea to leave those two gentlemen
alone...

any longer than is necessary.
Clifford?

Do be respectful.

I am...

To all that's beautiful.

To you.

Come in.

Ah.

Good evening, Father.
Good evening, my son.

You will forgive, I hope,
this abrupt summons.

Sit down.

Abominable weather for travel.

It would have been less trying had
you
acquainted me with the necessity for
my return.

Perhaps. I feared a
letter might not explain...

Jaffrey, I must make a decision.

- I need your advice.
- What for?

The decision
has already been made.

Will somebody please tell me
what all this is about?

Gladly. We're selling
this house tomorrow.

- Selling Seven Gables?
- Yes.

But that's impossible.

It's fantastic. It can't
be done without my consent.

Why not?
For the past two years,

you and Father have been investing
the family fortune without my consent.

You've succeeded
in bankrupting us.

That money was mine
as well as yours,

but nobody bothered
to get my consent.

Jaffrey, this has been
a most trying year.

Practically everything
is gone except the house.

I've maneuvered desperately to keep that
from
falling into the hands of the
creditors.

We shall lose it anyway
if it isn't sold.

The Pyncheon tradition
will not be sold.

As a student of law, Jaffrey,
you must know...

the bankruptcy court does not accept
family tradition as legal tender.

We can find a way out
of this momentary difficulty.

Man alive. Have you no
respect for the name you bear?

Your belated reverence
is very touching.

Respect? Pride?
For whom?

Perhaps for the honor
of our great-great grandfather,

the respectable
Colonel Jaffrey Pyncheon.

200 years ago,
he privately boasted...

of successfully murdering
one Matthew Maule...

in order to steal
this land from him.

Hail to thee, guiding spirit.

Perhaps we should bow our heads in
memory to Ethan Pyncheon, noble soul.

He held high rank
in Washington's army...

and proved his patriotism
by secretly selling supplies...

and military information
to the British.

I fairly burst with pride when I
recall
Jonathan's contribution to
Pyncheon tradition.

He made quite a fortune
for himself...

after soldiers were discharged
from the revolutionary army...

by cheating them
in shady land deals.

And here, our late,
lamented grandfather,

who schemed with John Henry
before the War of 1812...

for secession of Massachusetts from the
United States, to join her with Canada,

because this country disapproved
of his illegal investments.

By all means, let us sacrifice
ourselves to such traditions.

Stop! You forget yourself.

It's you who forget...
Too conveniently.

You go too far, sir. I'm
going farther than that.

I'm going as far as the sale price
of this mausoleum will carry me...

Away from its rotting walls
and decaying memories.

This house will never
be sacrificed.

I'll take the matter to court.
The world will know of this.

The world already knows
too much.

Clifford's antagonism, his insistence on
selling the house have become a scandal.

Jaffrey, do not add to it.

When our solicitor comes
tomorrow, the house will be sold.

What a pity men must inherit their
ancestors'
ignorance instead of their
wisdom.

Jaffrey, your tea.

Will you have some,
Cousin Gerald?

♪♪

Good night.

Good night, my son.

Hepzibah,

my child,
I hesitate to mention it,

but could you not persuade
Clifford to see...

how grievously
he wrongs his family?

♪♪ He seems so sure of himself,
Cousin Gerald.

True, but he's also sure
of your love and devotion.

Perhaps less certainty
on that score...

might bring about
less certainty on this.

Hepzibah, you can help us.

If I may but follow the
dictates of my conscience?

Yes, yes.
Thank you, Hepzibah.

♪ I can't remember ♪

♪ How I met you ♪

♪ But stars were shining ♪

♪ On your hair ♪

♪ And though you smiled
at me so sweetly ♪

♪ I can't remember
when or where ♪

♪ The scene, my love ♪

♪ I can't recall to view ♪

♪ For through it all ♪

♪ I just remember you ♪

♪ And when I dream ♪

♪ Beneath
the starlit skies ♪

♪ I recall ♪

♪ The color of your ♪

♪ Eyes ♪♪

Hepzibah,

I... I hope I didn't upset you...

with what happened downstairs.

Well, you see, I-I
had to tell the truth.

Why allow such hatred to remain
beneath the surface, festering?

A clean wound heals
much more quickly.

You were right, Clifford, but...

Well?

Your father asked me
to speak to you. What?

Darling, please. He shan't
use petticoats as weapons.

Clifford.

I'd rather you conserve
your impetuous energies...

for emotions more deserving.

Oh, forgive me, dearest.

May I speak now?
Oh, yes.

Oh, I listened to him
most attentively,

and I only asked one favor... that
he
leave it to the dictates of my
conscience.

Did that satisfy him?
Yes.

I've searched my conscience.
And?

I found...

I could never
love you blindly, Clifford,

so that your every act and thought
would seem just and courageous.

It's because of your courage and
sense of justice that I love you.

I can only hope to prove
worthy of such love, Hepzibah.

You have, my darling. And now
I know the house must be sold.

It shall be sold. We'll
live in New York, Hepzibah.

People there have vitality.

They look ahead, not backwards.

You know, I've read that they're
constructing buildings...

four and five stories tall,
scraping the sky.

Man reaching towards the heavens
instead of digging into dusty archives.

We'll leave the dirges
behind us.

There's music in those people,
Hepzibah...

Laughing, struggling,
working people.

That's living music.

You'll write it, Clifford.

It's already inside you.

Treasure hunt?

Yes. Yes, you can
call it that if you like.

So this is the reason for your
pious defense of your ancestors...

Not the legend
of their nobility,

but the fable
of their hidden wealth.

This is no fable, you fool.

One million acres in the
state of Maine, ours.

I've dug into ancient
archives in Boston.

Aside from this map, I've actually seen
documents that refer to the land grant.

Somewhere hidden in these
rotting walls as you call them,

along with his other papers,

is a deed to Colonel Jaffrey
Pyncheon signed by King Charles II.

Supposing you found them,
what value would they be?

That was 180 years ago.
There are cities there now.

Thousands of people. Will
you issue orders of eviction?

But, Clifford, don't you see?

With the original deed
in our possession,

the government is obliged
to compensate us.

It'll mean millions for us,
Clifford. Millions.

Help me.
Work with me.

We'll tear the house down board
by board until we find it.

There's nothing to find,
you fool.

There are no hidden staircases,
no secret rooms.

Those were fables Grandmother invented
on rainy afternoons for our amusement.

You might as well believe there's a half
a million in gold hidden with the deed.

She used to speak
about that too.

Which has yet
to be proven otherwise.

And Maule's curse?

Perhaps you believe that
old Matthew Maule's ghost...

still hovers over the
Pyncheons, wreaking vengeance.

It has yet
to be proven otherwise.

Well, uh, good night.

And, uh, don't let
the witches get you.

Whoa, boy.
Whoa. Whoa.

Easy there. Easy.
Morning, Mr. Fuller.

Morning, Miss Hepzibah.

A new horse, Mr. Fuller.
Yeah, a beauty, isn't he?

Two-year-old, he is,
and full of the Old Ned.

Faster than lightnin'.

Starting tomorrow, will you hold
our mail at the post office...

till we send on
a forwarding address?

So you're finally gonna sell? Yes,
today.
It's all settled.

Well, well. Heard a heap
of conversation, but...

And it's all settled?
Mm-hmm.

Well, get on, Ginger.

So they're finally selling Seven Gables?
Yep, all settled.

Settled, is it?
Well, well, well, well.

- Movin' out tomorrow.
- Don't believe it.

They've been talkin'
that way for a year.

If Mr. Fuller says it's all settled,
Abigail, I guess it's all settled.

Well, wonder who's fool enough
to buy it.

I say that Gerald Pyncheon has no
right to sell that cursed house...

to an unsuspecting stranger.

Can't help himself. It's
that young Clifford's doings.

He's a wild one, I'll tell you.

The old man
is afeard of the boy.

I remember Clifford saying
to him right in the square,

"I'll see you dead afore you're chained
to the poverty of your traditions."

It's nothin' but bad blood
dressed up in fancy words.

Mr. Fuller. Mr. Fuller,
have you heard the news?

I hear lots of news, Mrs. Reynolds.
It's finally settled.

The Pyncheons are selling
Seven Gables. Well.

Time was when the United States mail was
the fastest thing around these parts.

Get on, Ginger.

Clifford, I've been
looking all over for you.

You packed everything
you need, darling?

Hours ago. We can't leave today.
Why not?

It's impossible. Furniture
has to be disposed of.

Arrangements of all kinds
are still to be made.

Where's that lawyer?
Dearest Clifford,

you know he isn't expected
until late this afternoon.

Now, will you please come in
and eat something?

Your father and brother have
almost finished. No, thank you.

Aren't you hungry? I'm starved, but
I prize my appetite too highly...

to have it ruined by Jaffrey's
face across the table.

Darling, don't talk like that.
Why not?

Hepzibah, do you know why Jaffrey
is so anxious to keep the house?

Fondness of memories.
No, fondness of gold.

He actually believes
in all the witches' tales...

about hidden treasure
and Maule's curse.

Even about the old well.

Still, the water is
brackish, undrinkable.

Oh, that's undoubtedly the ancient
sewage system seeping into it.

And yet... Yet what, darling?

I recall my great uncle.

He died... With sudden
paralysis, a throat hemorrhage.

That isn't Maule's curse.
That's the Pyncheon curse.

Greed... willful
inhuman selfishness.

The combination of high blood
pressure and thin-veined aristocracy.

Oh, they're haunted
by conscience,

not by the calcified bones
of old Matthew Maule.

Oh, darling, now, you're not going to
allow black memories of the past...

to ruin a future so bright
and shining as ours.

Isn't that a new dress? Yes.

Is it pleasing to you? As pleasing
to me as it is becoming to you.

We'll keep it for special occasions...
our 25th, our 50th anniversary.

Frayed long before then. Moths will get
it.
It'll fall to pieces.

No, it won't. No more than that
beautiful,
warm smile of yours will ever
fade.

To that proposition,
mademoiselle, I dedicate myself.

Clifford, darling,
don't ever grow up.

Pray, forgive this interruption.

Father would be honored by a visit
from you. He's in the library.

Beautiful day, isn't it?

I had thought so...
till a moment ago.

Isn't that amusing?
I hadn't until a moment ago.

We really make the weather
ourselves, don't we, Hepzibah?

Yes, Father?
Clifford, as you know,

there still remain... beside the
house... a few government securities.

Very few.
Yes, yes.

However, Jaffrey is confident that we
can convert these bonds immediately...

Invest them in something
less secure, perhaps,

but far more profitable...
And within the year, we...

Yes, within the year, even that last
shred of security will have vanished.

What about your promise to me?

As the elder son, I have
always recognized your rights.

As your father, I must insist that you
refrain from questioning my authority.

I do not refer to your authority,
sir, but to your promise.

Ah! Which you wrung from me in
a moment of weakened decision.

I realize that now.

Sir, it is unthinkable that
the Pyncheon birthright...

should be put upon
the auction block.

Even Hepzibah knows that.

Of course, she conceals her sympathy
for fear of your displeasure.

That is untrue. You
dare to call me a liar?

As long as I remain alive,

I am the head of this house.

And it shall not be sold.
Sir, you must...

For the last year, your conduct
has brought us nothing but shame.

Disgraceful scenes in public.

You have humiliated me
beyond all endurance.

Now I command you to
leave this house at once.

You're no longer my son.

I want never again
to see your face.

That's the easiest way
to get out of a promise.

Out.

Father.

Father.

Father.

Hepzibah! Jaffrey!

Clifford.

I don't know what happened.
Suddenly he fell and...

We'd better send for Dr. Willard.
It's too late.

Murderer.

Jaffrey, you don't know
what you're saying.

You can't mean that, Jaffrey.

Don't let grief
becloud your reason.

Don't stand like one
carved in granite.

Say you are mistaken.

I see.

The house is ours now.

Yours and mine.

With me out of the way...

Oh, you fool.

You can't press such charges.

No jury on earth
would convict me.

Murderer.

If killing a money-mad fool
is murder, then yes.

Clifford, don't.
Don't.

Stop. Murder. He tried
to kill him, I tell you.

Who?
Clifford Pyncheon.

Gentlemen of the jury,

the State has charged Clifford
Pyncheon with the murder of his father.

Both the prosecution
and the defense...

are satisfied that they have
fully presented their cases.

Before retiring in an attempt
to reach your verdict,

I wish to remind you that your duty
is to consider only matters of fact.

My instructions will be few.

You are to decide, solely upon
the evidence presented,

whether the defendant
committed the crime.

The defense has sought to prove that
Gerald
Pyncheon died as the result of a
sudden illness...

A constriction of the throat,
a paralysis.

The defense alleges
that this stroke occurred...

as the result of
a violent verbal quarrel,

that it was
brought about by anger.

The prosecution
has offered as evidence...

testimony by which it hopes to
prove beyond any reasonable doubt...

the guilt of the defendant.

They called upon Dr. Willard, for
years, physician to the deceased.

Dr. Willard has testified that the
deceased exhibited no symptoms...

of the ailment the defense
alleges to have existed.

The State further offers in evidence
the testimony of the coroner,

who confirms their allegation...

that the deceased suffered a severe
blow on the head prior to death.

The defendant has admitted being in
the room with his father at the time,

swearing that no blow
was delivered...

with the paperweight that has
been offered in evidence,

on which bloodstains were found.

It has been sworn before you
as truth...

that upon one occasion, the defendant
cried aloud in a public square,

"I would rather see you dead than
chained
to the poverty of your
traditions."

Six witnesses have testified
under oath...

that, attracted by the angered
voice of the defendant,

they saw the defendant attempt
to take the life of his brother.

They have sworn
that they heard him cry,

- "If killing a money-mad fool is
murder, then yes.
- " - Yes, right.

He's not charging the jury. He's
convicting you. Look at their faces.

In closing, let me repeat
that it is for you to decide...

which of the evidence is in accordance
with the facts as you see them.

The jury will now retire
to reach a verdict.

Your Honor, there's no
need for us to retire.

Silence!

Or the court will be cleared.

Silence!

- Have you reached a verdict?
- We have, Your Honor.

The defendant will rise
and face the jury.

We, the jury, find the
defendant, Clifford Pyncheon,

guilty as charged.

No, he's innocent.
You all know he's innocent.

Silence!
Your Honor.

Please. Your Honor.

It is to our
everlasting disgrace...

that in these modern times such
barbaric demonstrations should occur.

The repetition of them
during this trial...

has turned it into
a travesty of justice.

Ignorance and prejudice reminiscent
of 17th-century witch-hunting...

have condemned an innocent man.

We remind counsel
for the defense...

that his remarks insolently question
the integrity of this court.

Order.

Clifford Pyncheon, step forward.

This court has found you
guilty of patricide,

and it therefore becomes my duty
to pronounce sentence upon you.

Because of the failure
of the State...

to offer proof beyond the circumstantial
evidence which has convicted you,

I withhold the death penalty...

and sentence you to life imprisonment
in the state penitentiary.

Clifford.

Look at her, comin' into
court in a dress like that.

She ought to be ashamed. Hold your
wicked tongue, you gossiping, old...

Witch.

I'll see the governor
of the state.

I'll not rest until
you're free, Clifford.

You look so beautiful
in this dress, Hepzibah.

I'm glad you wore it today.

I'll always remember you
just as you are now.

The court wishes at this time to
publicly commend Jaffrey Pyncheon.

His love for justice
was even greater...

than the natural human impulse
to shield one of his own blood.

Mr. Pyncheon, I predict that such
virtues will not remain unrewarded.

You will go far in the service
of justice and your country.

One minute, all of you.

Your Honor, I am innocent.

More than any living soul,
he knows that I am innocent.

It is because your lie
is so great, so infamous,

that decent human beings
cannot believe it to be a lie.

You've sacrificed everything that's
decent, everything that's honorable.

You've used the most degenerate
means to gain your ends.

You have the house.

With it, you have inherited
the Pyncheon tradition...

All the tradition
of your ancestors.

You believe in those
traditions, don't you?

You believe in your heritage.

Then may you also inherit
Maule's curse.

"God has given him
blood to drink."

Clifford. Clifford.

I intend to start the
dismantling in the attic.

First of all, all the
flooring must be torn up.

Then the plaster broken
out of the walls...

and the boards removed
carefully.

Board by board?

That'll be expensive, Mr. Pyncheon.
It'll take time.

I shall be on hand to see
that time is not wasted.

Of course, if the job is
not to your liking... Oh, no.

I'll start the first thing in the
morning.
Thank you, Mr. Pyncheon.

My dear cousin, this manner of
departure is not befitting a Pyncheon.

I forbid you to leave
this house in this way.

What will people say if I permit
you to wander the streets,

even if such scarlet tendencies
have been fostered in you?

Good morning, Mr. Barton.
Good morning.

Oh, hello, my dear child.

My father's will?
Yes.

Good-bye. No, no,
don't go, Hepzibah.

You're quite concerned
in this little matter.

Shall we adjourn to the library?
Come.

I, uh, trust you can dissuade my
cousin from any thoughtless action.

To leave now would be
in the worst possible taste.

I... I might even make her
a small allowance, temporarily.

I won't let a little thing
like that stand between us.

I seek only one thing
between us... distance.

It will not be necessary
to concern yourself...

about Hepzibah,
Mr. Pyncheon.

Your late father made
certain modest provision.

I won't trouble you with
the legal details, my dear.

You may examine the will and
documents at your leisure.

The estate is
quite uncomplicated.

Fortunately, the deceased
was heavily insured.

The benefits therefrom will more
than cover all outstanding debts.

You'll have about
$400 a year, Hepzibah.

That's splendid. Then the
house is free of debt.

I was afraid I might have
to borrow to save it.

That would not have been your
concern under any circumstances.

About six months ago, long
after the filing of this will,

the deceased sought to prevent
creditors from seizing the property...

in the only way
left open to him.

He signed the deed of
ownership over to someone else.

Thus this house, its furnishings,
the ground upon which it stands...

became and still remains
the legal property...

of Hepzibah Pyncheon.

Good-bye, my dear.

There is infamous
trickery behind this.

I'll fight with
every legal weapon.

To the Supreme Court if necessary.
My dear, sir,

surely you can apply your energies
to something more productive.

If my years of legal
experience can serve you,

be advised that you have
no more chance than a...

A zephyr in a windstorm.

Of all the crimes this evil
house has bred in the past,

none have been so cruel,

so nakedly shameless as yours.

You destroyed
your brother for it,

a joyous, living human being.

You exchanged him
for rotting timbers...

and depraved dreams of gold.

With all that's beautiful in life,
you cling to one craven desire...

This cursed, hateful house.

You'll never have it. I'll live on here.
I'll pray for long life.

You'll never again
set foot in it!

Oh, what's that?

What does it mean?
I don't know.

Something strange
has happened in that house.

Thank you, Ginger.

Get in there now.
Get in there.

Let's get him in.
Get him in there.

Let go of me, you slaves of
ignorance and corruption. Shut up!

You may shut me up, but there are
other voices... thousands of 'em.

Get in there.

Tell the judge I'm not
through with him yet.

I stand on my constitutional rights
of free speech and free assembly.

Maybe you'll sit down and shut
up before we're through with you.

You'll never be through with me.

The prison hasn't yet been built that
can stifle mankind's cry for freedom.

Do you know why I've
been thrown in here?

For the crime
of advocating freedom.

For defending the
abolition of Negro slavery.

And, mind you, in a land whose very
foundations but 70 years ago...

were cemented with the blood
of freedom-loving people.

Today, those same
fighters are in prison.

Persecuted. Shot. Can Americans
have forgotten so soon?

We abolitionists will remind
them of their heritage.

Thanks.

Perhaps you, sir,
can unravel this enigma.

How is it possible to arrest a man
for speaking freely of freedom...

in a country whose constitution
guarantees freedom?

And justice.
Precisely.

There I was, peacefully
addressing a meeting...

which was disrupted by
this paid band of ruffians.

The result? I became
the inciter to riot.

And for that, mind you,
I stood before a jury...

whose verdict was decided upon
before they heard the case,

a judge whose mind was made up
before I could offer my testimony.

And for that, I have been
confined to this foul cell...

for 10 long days.

Thanks.

Ten long days.

Are you interested
in the cause, sir?

The cause of freedom, yes.

Come in with us. When you get
out of here, join the fight.

I'd be glad to, but I'm not
sure if I'll ever get out.

Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Clifford Pyncheon.

I fail to see the humor. I'm sorry,
sir, but you see, it is funny.

For almost two centuries, the
Pyncheons
have lived in fear of my
ancestor's curse.

My name, sir, is Matthew Maule.

You don't believe
in that nonsense?

No. No, of course not.

Good evening, Hepzibah.
You're late, Mr. Barton.

I expected you yesterday.
My apologies, Hepzibah.

I was out of town on business,
but now I am at your service.

Yesterday's mail
brought unwelcome news.

Mark Pyncheon, a distant
relative, died a fortnight ago.

Oh, my sympathies.

His daughter... homeless
and without a penny...

Has written that she is
arriving here to live with me.

Well, Hepzibah, a young girl
may brighten your days.

We need affectionate
companionship.

I can't afford that luxury.
She may lighten your burden.

Death leaves only an added
burden for the living.

As you know, I've barely
been able to support myself.

Hmm. Letting rooms
is not a success, hmm?

No, there's just
the young Mr. Holgrave.

Oh, yes, that's the young man that
makes the newfangled pictures upstairs.

About this child... with her to
care for, I will need more money.

When does she arrive?
I don't know.

Perhaps immediately.

There is but
one solution. Trade.

Trade? I shall convert the
front room into a cent shop.

But-But you can't, Hepzibah.

It's just impossible.
Selling cookies and cider.

A gentlewoman
trading in pickles.

The outlay will be negligible.
The rent, free.

The child will help me run the
shop and thus maintain herself.

Have you discussed this idea
with Mr. Holgrave?

Mr. Holgrave? Why?

Well, the gentleman mightn't like
his lodgings over a cent shop.

I shall inform him at once.
Thank you for coming over.

Let me advance you
enough money...

to prevent this rush into trade.

No, thank you,
Mr. Barton.

I've accepted too many
kindnesses from you already.

You are a very
obstinate girl, Hepzibah.

Come in.

Forgive this intrusion,
Mr. Holgrave.

Intrusion?

Why, a visit from you is a rare
and honored occasion.

I came to give you
sufficient notice...

should you care to
give up your lodgings.

You're not giving up the house?

I plan to convert the front
parlor into a cent shop.

The place will no longer
be suitable for a gentleman.

Then the matter's easily
settled, Miss Pyncheon,

for I am no gentleman... neither
by birth nor by instinct.

Your conduct has always
led me to believe you were.

I speak frankly, Miss Hepzibah,
for surely we are friends.

This decision marks
a new epoch in your life.

Hitherto, the lifeblood has been
chilling
in your veins as you sat
aloof...

while the rest of the world
was fighting out its battle.

But the moment you start to work
and become engaged with people,

you'll have the sense of
contributing... however little...

To the struggle of mankind.

And that... not money... is the
only success there is in life.

Such ideas...

have not been voiced
in this house...

for many years.

You'll hear them again,
Miss Hepzibah.

Well, a visitor.

Seven Gables is coming
to life tonight.

Perhaps I should say life
is coming into Seven Gables.

The Honorable Jaffrey Pyncheon.

Preserved for posterity.

Good evening.
Come in.

I'm... I'm Phoebe Pyncheon.

You're Cousin Hepzibah.

Yes.

I'm sorry about your father.

Welcome to Seven Gables.

This room connects with mine.

To have so invited myself
into your home is...

Is an unforgivable intrusion.

Had you another place to go?

No, Cousin Hepzibah.

Well, then, didn't I
say you were welcome?

Oh, yes, Cousin Hepzibah.
Thank you.

I shall prove no burden to you.

My fingers are nimble
with a needle,

and I shall happily relieve you
of all kitchen chores...

and be as helpful as I can.

I plan to open a cent shop.
A cent shop!

Oh, I can help. I can run
it for you, Cousin Hepzibah.

I know all about such things. Once
at a fancy fair, I had a table.

Everybody said my wares
were wondrously displayed.

My receipts were highest of all.

Oh, you will let me help,
won't you?

Won't you?
Yes.

Oh, Cousin Hepzibah!

You'll find an extra
comforter in the wardrobe...

should the night turn chilly.

Good night, Cousin Hepzibah.

Good night.

Thoroughly reliable.

Very good.
Splendid.

The leaflets will be ready
for
distribution by tomorrow, Mr.
Wainwright?

Yes, and I have 40 lads ready
to scatter them over the county.

Reverend Smith, in his
letter, Garrison stated...

that 30 more Negroes will arrive through
the underground within a fortnight.

All arrangements have been made for
their safe
conduct to Canada with the
exception of one.

Our financial help
is sorely needed.

And we're ready to give it to 'em,
ain't we, Deacon? Oh, yes. Certainly.

Our people have responded
nobly to the cause.

How much have we now, Deacon?

Oh, well over $5,000.

You have it carefully
hidden away, Deacon?

Oh, indeed, Mr. Wainwright.
Most carefully.

The deacon will turn
the money over to you...

as soon as you are ready
to deliver it, Mr. Holgrave.

Garrison will communicate
with me. It'll be any day.

Well, good night, gentlemen.

Good night.
Good night, Reverend.

I'll let you know the moment
I hear anything. Very well.

Good night, Deacon.
Pleasant dreams.

Same to you, sir.
Same to you.

Well, can you imagine?

Who would ever think that old
maid Pyncheon would go into trade?

A cent shop.

Miss Pyncheon!

Her sour face will chase away more
people than her sweets can attract.

Sweets! You're right.

I don't see how she
expects to do any business.

Good-bye, and
thank you very much.

Oh, our first sale. Oh, we will
be successful. I know we will!

Won't we, Mr. Holgrave?
It's a foregone conclusion.

People will be drawn from great
distances.
Really? Why?

Your smile.
It's magnetic.

Cousin Hepzibah and I really have
much to thank you for, Mr. Holgrave.

Why, without your help, this shop
would not have been possible.

Oh, I didn't do anything.

Cut through that door and
window and built a few shelves.

But you're a photographer.

How is it you're also
such an expert at carpentry?

Miss Phoebe, were I to question the
source of my innumerable talents,

it would prove
my main occupation.

Already in my short career,
I've
achieved great success as a
schoolmaster,

salesman of perfume
and steam locomotives,

political editor of a newspaper.

Why go on?
The list is without end.

Oh, you-you take
nothing seriously.

May I prove to you
otherwise, Miss Phoebe?

Oh, a customer!

It's a charming customer.
It's Jaffrey Pyncheon.

I wish to see Miss Pyncheon immediately.
Good morning, Judge.

Ah, Holgrave. I fear you've
betrayed my friendship.

You might have warned me of the coming
birth of this disgraceful enterprise.

Hurry, girl, Miss Pyncheon.

Permit me to introduce
the young lady, Judge.

I wish a moment alone with you.
Your wishes are not served here.

Very well, if you prefer the airing of
your shameless conduct before strangers.

First of all, you allow this house
to deteriorate into a village slum.

Then you turn it
into a lodging house...

and now, finally, this...
A huckster's enterprise!

I'll not permit
such a blot on our name.

If your name needs
protection from anything,

it is from the scandalous
enterprises...

to which you yourself
have lent it these many years.

This shop will be closed.

I will request the courts
to issue a restraining order.

I will... You will leave here.

At once.

News!
Excellent news!

The very best of...
news.

I hope you will share
our joy, sir.

Your years of waiting have
not been in vain, Hepzibah.

Clifford is to be released.

The new governor's commuted
your brother's sentence.

The papers are already signed.

This nation is headed
for destruction.

When the vote of the people places
such incompetents into office,

it is time to withdraw the vote.

Or restrict it to those
who vote your way. - Exactly!

Will you go
to meet him, Hepzibah?

No. His homecoming
shall be regarded...

as if he were merely returning
from a brief journey.

I suppose you'll want to
get his old room ready, eh?

It has always been ready.

I think someone's in the house.
Yes.

I must have left the front door open.
I did.

He's come home.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

But why didn't you want to see
him last night, Cousin Hepzibah?

Uh, look to the biscuits,
Phoebe.

They're to be brown to the point of
burning, but not burned, mind you.

Did you bring the pot of honey from
the cellar? Yes, Cousin Hepzibah.

The clover, I hope. He always
insisted on wild honey.

Shall I start the eggs now?
Heavens, no, child.

Not until he's at the table.

He must see you first, Phoebe,

just as you stand there
in the sunlight.

And smile when he comes in.

Your beauty will please him.

The golden sunlight
of your hair...

will warm his heart.

Oh, no, Cousin Hepzibah.

He'll find you
as lovely as ever.

Good morning, Clifford.

This is Cousin Phoebe,
of whom I wrote.

Good morning, child.

The shop. I...

Excuse me, sir.

Your breakfast
is ready, Clifford.

I'll start the eggs.
Please, Hepzibah.

I want to look at you.

There's little left
to see, Clifford.

Let my eyes be your mirror.

In them, your beauty
will never fade.

Time only makes more beautiful
a heart such as yours.

How can I ever
make known to you...

my gratitude,

my humility before
such loyalty and courage?

Smile, Hepzibah.

Now that we're together again,

smile.

It is not too late
for us, Clifford?

No.

In a short while,

the past will be
but a shadowy memory.

236, 237,

238, 239...

Got it! Relax.

Relax? I can't.

I'll have you free in a moment.
Why, that wasn't long.

Until a year ago, it would
have taken a half hour.

Today science has
advanced so rapidly...

that we can take a picture
in less than four minutes.

Oh, I thought
it would never end.

Why did you want this
portrait of me, Mr. Holgrave?

So that people won't accuse me of
being such an unconscionable liar.

How can I continue
to proclaim you...

the most beautiful maiden
in the universe...

and have no proof?

The daguerreotype doesn't lie.
Why, Mr. Holgrave.

Phoebe, when are you going to
stop calling me "Mr. Holgrave"?

Do I have to wait until people
call you "Mrs. Holgrave"?

Oh, Mr. Holgrave!
I'm sorry.

Phoebe, what I'm trying to say is
that I love you more than life itself.

Oh, but that can't be.

Your life is so full,

your... your interests so many.

Why, I haven't scope enough
to make you happy.

There can be no happiness
without you.

Phoebe, you do love me?

You look into my heart,
Mr. Holgrave.

Mr. Holgrave,

permit me to introduce
Mr. Clifford Pyncheon.

- I'm honored, sir.
- How do you do?

Mr. Pyncheon has just returned from...
a distant land.

He will stay on with us.
You'll enjoy Seven Gables, sir.

Yes, Mr. Holgrave,
I think I will.

The very first thing
I'm going to do...

is make this garden
beautiful again.

Then we aren't leaving this
house at once, Clifford?

Not yet.

Not right away.

Clifford, you're thinking
of Jaffrey again.

Please don't. He's a man
of great wealth and power...

All these years,
you've been waiting alone...

in this cold, empty tomb.

I didn't mind, darling.

I knew all the time that
we'd be together again,

and we are.

Now the past can become
a distant dream.

It will, dearest Hepzibah.

Then don't seek
vengeance, Clifford.

Providence... fate... will best
reward him for his crime.

He's crazy, I tell you.

Twenty years in prison
have made him lose his mind.

Maybe.
It happens. I know.

I was in once for 30 days,
and I almost went crazy myself.

Maybe, but this Tribune
doesn't lie.

It says right here that,
when he was in prison,

he studied a lot
of old documents.

What's all the mystery, Matt, about
Clifford Pyncheon looking for gold?

Gold, gentlemen, is not unlike
happiness... it's where you find it.

But this paper claims... Jeremiah,
you're old enough to know...

that newspapers say
all sorts of things.

Aye, but he's crazy, I tell you.

Didn't he kill his father?
Did he now?

Well, the courts say so.

The courts say lots of things,
and sometimes they're right too.

Sometimes...

Sometimes they're...
Your health, sir.

Mr. Holgrave.
Why, if it ain't Mr. Weed.

Oh, Annie, glass of buttermilk
for the gentleman.

Good evening, Phineas. And how is the
Honorable Judge Pyncheon this evening?

Honorable, is he? - Merely a figure of
speech, gentlemen, a figure of speech.

When a man's got a million,
he's automatically honorable.

He's in excellent health, sir.
Of course he is.

As he dines on the meats
of those he cheats...

and the widows and orphans
he turns in the streets!

Judge Pyncheon is most anxious
to see you, Mr. Holgrave.

It's a matter of great urgency.

Can it be that the good judge is
displeased
with the portraits I made of
him?

Heavens, no!

Can he possibly be wanting
to pay me for my work?

Heavens, no!

He never pays!
That's why he's so rich!

And that's why he stays so rich!

Gentlemen, gentlemen. We're
living in an age of miracles.

Annie.
Come, Mr. Weed.

Come, Mr. Weed.
Good-bye, Mr. Weed!

Don't worry, my dear deacon.
You can leave everything to me.

Oh, thank you.
Thank you so much.

Good night.

- Yes?
- Mr. Holgrave.

Oh. Have him come in.

Good evening. Good evening, Holgrave.
You know Deacon Foster.

Oh, yes. We meet quite
frequently, don't we, Deacon?

Yes, yes.
Quite frequently, yes.

Well, good evening, gentlemen.
Good evening.

Sit down.

To be frank with you,
I seek advice.

I find myself deeply concerned
over my brother since his release.

Yes, he has suffered
a great deal.

True, true. But then,
crime profits no one.

However, I refer to these
disquieting rumors in the newspapers.

Poor Clifford's search for treasure?
I saw that too.

- It's true, isn't it?
- I'm afraid it is.

His incarceration has left
his mind unbalanced.

But he's perfectly harmless,
Judge Pyncheon. A childish fancy.

Of course, of course.

But tell me, how does he come
to such hallucinations?

From what I can gather, he
spent his long prison days...

studying some ancient documents.

Where did he get them?

I don't know, but he's got them.

Old maps and the original
architect's plans of Seven Gables.

The man's mad, I tell you. He should
be committed to an institution.

But why? He's absolutely
harmless, Judge Pyncheon.

All he does is go around tapping
walls and removing a board or two.

Do you know,
he's absolutely convinced...

there's half a million in gold
hidden away in that house some place.

A half a million!

Yes, yes, yes.
Very amusing.

But be fair, Holgrave.

Don't you think he and everyone
else would be happier...

if he were committed
to an institution?

He's happy there.
Can you imagine?

He has plans
of secret staircases.

He claims his ancestors
had them built...

so they could hide from witch
hunters and Maule's ghost.

Secret staircases!
Maule's ghost!

The documents show that? So he claims.
A half a million!

Good morning, ladies.

- I wish to see my brother.
- He doesn't share your wishes.

You can scarcely hope
to conceal from me...

matters that are already common
knowledge throughout the village.

- I don't know what you mean.
- Clifford's insanity.

Such evil gossip can only have been
started by one person... yourself.

Would you swear this is untrue,

that Clifford is not tearing
down the house seeking the money?

Such ideas are
farthest from his mind.

I knew I could rely
on Mr. Holgrave's word.

Mr. Holgrave?

My dear cousin, I fear that
your loyalty to Clifford...

has, um, overshadowed
your adherence to truth.

You can't endanger the
community by harboring a madman.

Oh, well, no matter.

I've already written to the state
asylum for the mentally incompetent.

They can handle Clifford
far more efficiently than I.

Judge Pyncheon!

I must see you.
I must talk to you.

Well, get in.

Mr. Holgrave.

What cruel jest is this,
Mr. Holgrave?

Well, it was not my intention
to alarm you, Miss Hepzibah.

Just what was your intention?

It was just an impulse,
a momentary lapse of reason.

I... I merely sought
to add realism to...

Realism? For what?

Are you responsible for that
slanderous story in the papers?

Matthew, please tell us
what's happened.

Perhaps you have
found it amusing...

to rekindle the fires
of Jaffrey's greed.

Since Clifford's return, you've
been together constantly.

It's a strange way to repay
friendship, Mr. Holgrave.

He can explain, Cousin Hepzibah.
Can't you, Matthew?

Well, unfortunately, the
explanation is not mine to give.

Please leave here as soon
as you find new lodgings.

Mr. Pyncheon, sir, I beg you
to be more explicit.

In a short time, I shall be called
upon to account for this money.

My dear deacon,
I have already told you...

that no news can be
expected this week.

But it's an investment
of such a large sum.

You have entrusted it
to a Pyncheon, sir.

Good morning, Mr. Fuller.
Anything for me?

Must be, or Ginger never
would have stopped.

Eh! There you are.

Yes, sir.
Thank you.

Giddap, Ginger.

Oh, Cousin Hepzibah!

Forgive me, Cousin Hepzibah.

I'll try not to act silly again.

He knows his presence
is intolerable to us,

yet a week has passed since I
asked him to seek other lodgings.

But why does Cousin Clifford
wish him to stay?

Clifford doesn't know anything
about what has happened.

I didn't want to upset him.

Once he's gone,

it'll be easier for you,
Phoebe, won't it?

Matthew Holgrave has spent
his last night in this house.

When he returns, he will find
his possessions on the doorstep.

Cousin Hepzibah,
please don't send him away.

If... If Matthew leaves,
I must leave with him.

Cousin Hepzibah, I love him!

No.

Clifford, we must leave
Seven Gables at once.

Clifford, before it's too late.

Hepzibah, you're trembling.
With fear for you.

But why?

Don't ask me to tell you, Clifford.
Trust me, please.

Take me away, Clifford,
anywhere.

As far away from this house as we can
go.
I beseech you!

We can't go just yet, Hepzibah.
But why?

I should have
told you right away.

But I'm not free. My
sentence was merely commuted.

Till I can prove I'm
innocent, we can't marry.

I have no civil rights.

I had hoped by now... Oh, it
doesn't matter. We'll go anyway.

We must leave this house today,
darling...
now, before he ever comes
again.

Who?
Jaffrey.

I'm waiting for him
to come here again.

No! He's planning to harm you!
I also have plans.

Oh, vengeance is not
a weapon for human hands.

Clifford, you don't understand.

This Mr. Holgrave
who lives here.

His name is really... Matthew Maule.
I know.

He's a friend of mine,
dearest Hepzibah.

Now let me explain this to you.

Excuse me, sir, but the
mail has arrived. Oh.

Deacon Foster called early this
morning, sir, before you had awakened.

He seemed quite disturbed. Everybody's
disturbed. We live in disturbing times.

Yes, sir. Huh.

Like everybody else!
You can't...

You may go, Weed.
Yes, sir.

I must have that money. Now, now.
Calm yourself.

No, no, no. I can't. It's
your continued evasions...

If I may be permitted to use so blunt
a word... that cause my agitation.

When I brought you this money,
you said it was a safe investment,

that I could have it back
the moment I needed it.

You knew it wasn't mine,
that I'd have to return it.

Now the time has come.
My dear man.

There is always an element
of risk in these transactions.

A storm may delay the ship for weeks.
It may even be captured.

Ship? Captured?

Perhaps you'll finally tell me
what this money's invested in.

We're not engaged
in something illegal?

Are you suddenly concerned
over moral values, Deacon?

You didn't ask me that question when I
told you there was a profit to be made.

Yes, it is illegal.

Your money went to help finance
a slave runner from Africa.

Slave runner?

Abolitionist money
financing a slave runner?

Oh, what curse has befallen me?

Help me, Jaffrey. Help me put
it back before they find out.

Lend it to me!
You idiot.

Do you think I would have come to you
for the money had I any of my own?

But you're so wealthy. I have been at
various times, but now I'm penniless.

You could mortgage this house.
I already did so six months ago.

Well, what am I to do?

Now brace yourself, man.
Brace yourself.

Much can happen.
Look at me.

I've weathered worse storms than
this, and here I am still unbattered.

I'm ruined. How can I
face those good people?

I'd sooner kill myself.

You have my word, sir...
The word of a Pyncheon.

And there is every
reason to hope.

You're a resourceful man,
Jaffrey.

If you want to, you can help me.
And I will, Arnold.

Go home and keep your mouth shut
until you hear from me.

Weed!

Yes, sir? I'm going over to
the House of Seven Gables.

I'll be back shortly.
Yes, sir.

Good morning, Mrs. Foster.
The deacon at home? No.

We've been looking for him all over
town.
Where is he?

You'll find him over
to Judge Pyncheon's.

There's the smell of a mackerel
about this.

I wish to see Mr. Pyncheon. But
Cousin Clifford is... I mean, he's...

Never mind what you mean. If you don't
announce me, I shall announce myself.

You look well, Jaffrey.
Overfed, but well.

- I haven't come here to discuss my
health.
- I know.

You want the house,
don't you, Jaffrey?

Well, you can have it...

and everything
that goes with it...

if you will just
sign this paper.

Now, why should I do that?

You'll have the house.
I'll gain my freedom.

Full pardon.

Sign a confession that I accused
you falsely at the trial?

It doesn't read in that way.

It merely states that perhaps
you were in error then.

That's all, Jaffrey.

You made a mistake.
Now you wish to rectify it.

You are mad, aren't you?

I advise you to turn the house
over to me immediately...

before I am forced to have you
committed to an institution.

The state authorities
are deeply concerned...

over your strange behavior
since your release.

I must see Judge Pyncheon. Where is he?
He's in the library.

Oh, just a moment!

The money, Jaffrey.
I must have it at once!

If we have any business to
discuss, we'll do it in my office.

No, Jaffrey, I can't wait. They've
been down to my house looking for me.

They followed me to yours.
They suspect something.

I don't know what you're
talking about, Arnold!

- Will you please wait outside for me?
- No, no! You got me into this.

You never told me what you
wanted to do with the money.

You promised to let me
have it back in time.

Here they are!
Jaffrey! Here they are!

They're coming here!
Jaffrey!

They're coming here!
Oh, how can I face them?

Think of my family
and my children.

Think of their disgrace when
they hear of my betrayal.

Jaffrey, please!

I made up my mind
before I came here.

You got me into this.

You're going to take the blame.

Murderer.

You don't know what
you're saying, Hepzibah.

Don't stand there
staring at me that way.

Murderer.

No, it isn't true. You
know I didn't do anything.

I heard a shot, I tell ya.
Let us in!

See who it is, Phoebe.

You know who it is!
Don't let them in!

Clifford, they'll kill me if they
find out what I did with their money!

Hide me.
The secret staircase.

There is no secret staircase.
But you lie!

The plans! Holgrave
told me of the plans.

There are no plans, no Holgrave.

His name is Matthew Maule.
Matthew Maule?

It's Mr. Wainwright, Mr. Hawkins,
Revered Smith and Matthew.

Ask them in.
No. No!

No, don't let them in!

No! They're fanatics!
They'll murder me!

Here! I'll do anything you want,
anything you say.

There. You're free now.

You can have the house,
all the money in it.

No! No, don't let them in!

The deacon! Oh, Matthew, quickly!
Hurry!

No, no, no!
No! Don't let them in!

Keep away from me!
Keep away from me!

I now pronounce you
man and wife.

Congratulations.
Thank you, sir.

Congratulations.
Thank you, sir.

Don't dawdle. Don't dawdle.
You'll miss the train.

Come on. All your things
are at the station.

Matthew.
Matthew, we must go.

Have a nice trip.

Will it take long
to the station?

Where's that red carpetbag?
It's over here.

Clifford, Hepzibah.

You know, I've always thought
of you two just this way.

Time will never leave
its mark upon you.

I will always see you two
as you were...

in the very beginning.

Don't worry. Everything
will be all right.

Thank you!
Good-bye, Mr. Barton.

Good-bye! Don't forget
to write sometime.

Good-bye!
Good-bye!