The Sun.
London, England, 1869-09-24 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

IILRELI
This is not only a novel, it is no a prose poem. The
story shews that the author is not only a romancist, bat
likewise a genuine artist and poet. It is long since we
have read a tale into which such fine workmanship has
been put. Novels there are in abundance, wherein the plot
is more intricate, the incidents are more sensational, the
characters more numerous. But there is a quiet concen-
tration of energy combined with a true poetic instinct in
this book which we have not seen for many a day. There
is one point open to question in the narrative. sad we
admit that it is unquestionably an important one Is it
possible that the hero could, in so short a time as Mr. Saun-
ders depicts him, have been the subject cf two such absorb-
ing passions as those which he felt for the two chief women
of the sto ? If Mr. Saunders appeals to Shakspere
and reminds vs that Romeo was on his way from
serenading Rosalind, when he fell in love with Juliet, we
reply that Shaksp e draws a wide distinction between
the two kinds of love which Romeo felt. The first
was clearly but a passing ancy of idleness, spending
itself in ditties sung to the accompaniment of a guitar.
The second was an all-consuming passion, stronger ,than
life itself. But John Cunliff's two loves were both of
this latter character, both drove him nearly to despair
and suicide, and they came so closely tcyfether that one
was driven out by the other. Fickleness is common
enough when the fancy only is eng ,ged, bu' when heart
and soul are absorbed, it is surely unknown. And it must
be remembered that Cunliff was no inexperienced youth.
Ile was a man of the world, who had a ; his full share of
the grand passion before. Perhaps Mr. Saunders would
argue that inasmuch as the first passion was unlawful it
was likely enough to be chased away by the second. We
doubt it; nevertheless, our doubt has not impaired the
pleasure with which we had read this very beautiful tale.
John Rymer Cunliff, the country gentleman, the man
who when he was at Oxford was considered safe to win
success in any career that he a igbt choose, has at ;the
time that we are introduced to him frittered away ener-
gies and talents in folly, and something worse. At last
be encounters the young wife ( f an elderly husband, and
after many meetings and much talk about subjects in
which they find a c mmon interest, their frien lrhip
becomes dangerously intimate. ( atherine Rhys is kept
from falling by a kind letter which she received from her
husband, in which he refers to the rumours he
had heard respecting her and Cun'iff, but expresses his
unshaken trust in her. Their last interview—or rather
last but one, for there is another with tragic issues to
come—is very powerfully described, and there is true
artistic finish in the surroundings of that scene.
A very different man from John Cunliff is Robert
Chamberlayne, the honest, handsome, frank-hearted Kent
farmer. Still more different is Chamberlayne's cousin,
Elias Morgan, the Welsh farmer, with his stern Puritanism
Elias Morgan, the Welsh farmer, with his stern Psi) tanism
that will not allow him to shew either sorrow under
suffering, or love for his daughter Hirell. A little while
before the story opens, Chamberlayne, who had long loves
Hirell, had been the bearer of good news to Morgan, had
told him of a fortune of £7,000 that had been left to
him. But the fortune turned out a phantom ; swindlers
had devoured it, and Chamberlayne had the sad mission
of going down to Wales to announce the bursting of the
bright bubble. He found the farmer who had so long
wrestled with penury, sunning himself in his supposed
new fortune. His young brother was starting for college,
his daughter was dressed in raiment such as she had only
dreamed of before ; new rooms had been added to the
house, a new waggon stood in the court ; and all these
things Elias, scrupulously honest, the man to whom an
unpaid debt was misery, had bought with money that did
not exist. Above all, there was the new chapel, Morgan's
chief pride and hope, and whose foundation his friend,
Mr. Ephraim Jones, was there to celebrate. The table
that of old used to be sparely supplied, lay covered with
tempting viands. The message of sorrow is then told,
"They will all want comfort from you," he is gently
warned.
" Comfort!" he repeated grimly. "No, air, my family
will expect of me that I do my duty. You come to see
how Idoit in this sore strait. You shall see ; you shall
see me do it according to mylight—according to my light."
The light v-ss a narrow one, but intense. First of all.
it 'hewed him the well-filled table where the new plate
was shining.
" Kezia !"
She bad =^-t come into the room, and was standing like
one petrifies as wile looked at Elja.q.
He stood at the head of the table, and motionel with
his hand, as he said, sternly, " Gather these up—pack
them as they were before. They go back ; they are not
mine."

" Elias ?" cried Kezia. " Mr. Lloyd ; oh, mercy ! wha
is the matter ?"

" ()hey me !" shouted Morgan

The letters which he had written for Hugh to take with
him to London lay on the table close to his hand. His
eye fell on these next. He took them up quietly and tore
eacn in two, and dropped both to U., ga, . i.:. Just then
a soft rustle of silk drew his eyes to the door, and in a
moment Hirell entered, coming quickly,l conscious of
having loitered over her new dress. She noticed nothing
strange at first, for she was full of tender expectancy or
the surprise and pleasure of her father and Hugh. They
all watched her approach, and trembled for her at the
cruel severity of the voice that went to meet her and
arrest her steps.
" Hirell !"
She stood still, her colour went, and she turned her
soft, startled eyes from ono to another; thenlthey returned
to her father's face with a look of great fear and trouble.
It did not soften the indomitable sternness of that face,
and only a sharp spasmodic quiver passed over it, as Elias
stretched out his arm and pointed to her dress.
," Take it off 1" he cried ' • " go, take it off !—and these
gauds," touching her necklace with a cold trembling
finger ; "off with them, Kezia, take them offs!"
Kezia, with her usual prompt obedience, came in timid '
haste, unclasped the necklace, and laid it on the tabl
before her master.

" Go with her," he said to Kezia, pointing to Hirell,
"and take off that gown, and bring it here, and all her
other finery and your own—all that has been bought with
this money." Hirell, in her great perplexity and terror,
allowed Kezia to lead her away, and as they went Elias
turned upon Hugh.
" Brother ! if I am not to have help from you, let sae
have, at least, obedience, If you must grieve as a child,
obey like a child. Those clothes that you had made at
Dolgarrog, put them up—all of them. Give me that
watch."

Hugh roused himself, and threw the watch on the table
by Hirell'
pin
nefn klace.
a
r handkerchief."
While Hugh was taking it out, a Leavy manning
tread was heard along the passage—a form stood in the
doorway, and all but Mr. Lloyd recognised the burly
figure and strongly blotched face of the Calvinist preacher.
the Rev. Ephraim Jones.
" Well, friend Elias," he cried, In his loud, hoarse
voice, wiping the moisture from his face. " Here you are.
feasting like Job among his brethren, when the days of
his trouble were passed. Well, shall I, like them, con-
dole with you over the evils that are gone, or rejoice with
yon for the peace and plenty that have been showered ea
your home ? "
Elias looked at him, his clenched hand on the table,
nostrils distended.
" Do neither, friend Ephraim," be answered, in a voice
of hard, calm agony. " Since you are come, assist me to
set my house in order; for God bath commanded that
Mammon shall depart from it ; and I am sorely troubled
in destroying his idols and tearing his bonds from Us
hearts of my children."
The Rev. Ephraim is better than he looks. He is true
as steel and of a tender heart, for all his blotched face.
Poor Hirell comes back, no longer in silk array, but in
her very oldest, most washectout dress. The sudden
change from joy to grief is too great for her. She faints,
and burly Ephraim helps her up tenderly, offering, in a
loud, harsh voice, a compliment that comes from the
heart—" Foolish maiden, what need hest thou of these
things, thou lily of the field?"
Though Elias Morgan sends back alt ins purchases
there is oue luxury which he will not deny himself.
" Friend Ephraim," said Elias, turning to him with
gleaming eyes, " the chapel shall not be stopped. What
I have bought with this money for the uses of the flesh
and the devil I take back from the flesh and the devil ;
but rather than take that back which I have bought
and consecrated for God's use, I will beg ; I will beg '
"And I, too, Elias," answered the minister, "I will
beg for you rather than stop that work. One triumph you
shall have—one sweet drop in your cup of bitterness."
It is into this household of stern grim honesty, of
narrow theological views, but of unshaken trust in Provi-
dence, that Robert Chamherlayne introduces as a lodger
John Cunliff, the blase man of the world. Cunliff goes
there in order t) be near Mrs. Rhys. A very different
motive detains him. Pity is the mother of love, and
Hirell's tender compassion for one who is evidently suf-
fering soon gives rise to new emotions. The two are
betrothed. But, before that, Mrs. Rhys visits Cunliff
to warn him that he is in danger from her husband. She
sees Cunliff and Hirell together, and though they as yet
do not know their own secret, she sees it at a glance, and
a very painful scene follows. Cunliff has to return to
toy: n, and whi'e there, comes into a baronetcy an 1 a
splendid fortune. And old friend exhorts him to abandon
his evil courses, to enter Parliament, and do good to the
State and win fame fur himself, and to marry a wife who
will help him up the ladder of renown. Then comes a
sore . struggle, in which selfishness prevails. Cunliff,
after a long absence and silence, returns to Wales, takes
Hirell to his castle without telling her that it is
his ; reads to her Tenayson's " Lord Lurleigh," but
proposes to take a course utterly different from is ;
a course selfish and dishonourable to the last degree. The
scene is very powerfully drawn. We shall not do the
author the injustice of telling the di noaement. Suffice it
to say that the story is throughout pure in conception, as
well as artistic in realisation. There are a few miner
faults, especially one in the first chapter, where the hours
of the day are confused, and there is a little uncertainty
as to the thawing of some cf the minor characters, espe-
cially Hugh. But on the whole the book deserves high
praise, and will no dcubt be widely rea.l.

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