Stockton Herald, South Durham and Cleveland Advertiser. — 1874-10-10 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

BELGRAVIA.—ConductO by M. E. Braddon. London: Warwick Masa,' Paternoster-row. THE thread of the narrative in, "Lost for Love," which elosed id 144 number, is again taken up by• Dr 011ivant's wife awl his mother wending thrir way homewards from Killarney. Flora's only fear on reaching London was that she would And her husband deaf to her protestations of forgiveness, and the assurance that her early love for him—though it was not of a very ardent kind—was now unchanged, and that if he would forget and forgive tire past, she was prepared to atone for her doubts of his love, and her accusation for his murdering her first lover. She, hovover, foand an unexpected obstacle in her way. Doctors are like other human beings, and ars; subject to the infirmities they cure in others. Dr 011ivant was no exception. Flora found the home she had deserted in a neglected, wi.sted condition. But worse than all, she found her husband lying uncouscions in fever, attended by a hospital nurse who, with a professional air, took special charge of her patient, and only consented to allow Flora to remain beside Let husbaud on condition that she promised to be very quiet and not to speak to her patieut. That is hew a nurserymaid treats a naughty child and punishes it. Flora, no doubt, looked upon herself as a very naueley child, and was willing to du any penance her husband might impose on her if she might only explain her position, assure him that be was not a murderer, and that she was to be to hint all that a loving obedient vide ought to be. It was a sore trial—art additional pang to the many she had recently suffered—to find him to all i.ppearance dying, and unit* to reeegnise her or to speak a word of forgiveness. The chopter closes with an affecting scene when the patient had returned to a gleans of half conseicuseess and seemed to recognise her :  by I  - My love, my love,' she sobbed, 'my lost love 1 Is there no forgiveness in heaven for my sin against you?' Her voice, those keen accents of anguish, pierced the dimness of delirium. Cuthbert 011ivant opened his eyes and looked at her, this time with recognition in his gaze. Flora!' he murmured faintly. There was neither surprise nor joy in his tone. In his utter weakness of mind and body he had passed beyond the region of strong emotions. 'My love, it is I—your wife—your sorrowful repentant wife P No,' he said, with ever so faint a touch of wonder; that cannot be; my wife hates me.' She remembered her words in the garden that fatal summer evening—words of unmitigated hatred and contempt; words keener than a sword thrust, and harder to forget. My dearest, I was unjust, cruel, ungrateful,' sobbed Flora. It has pleased God to open my eyes to my wickedness. I have something to tell you about Waiter by and by; something that will set your mind at test. 0 live, dearest ; live, for my sake; and all my life to come shall be one long atonement.' He contemplated her mutely for a few moments, with a strange pathetic look, and then answered quietly: Too late, my dear. The pitcher is broken at the fountain.'  The story then reverts to old Jarred and his daughter Loo—now, Mrs Leyburn, the rising painter's wife wife—but the chief interest is centred in the 01livant's, and the fate of the Doctor, which is now oscillating in the balance. Considerable disappointment will be found by many readers that another chanter was not devoted to Flora and her husband ; but it is the province of the romancist to drorfthe curtain where and when she pleases.— There is no possibility of predicting what sort of a tale "Ward and Wife" may turn out—but it certainly does not open very auspicion,ly. It may be all very well for Paris morality to have a nice-looking young lady living on such friendly terms with her guardian—a young fencing master—but it does I not sound very polite to "unmistakable Britons." The more we look at it the less we like it, though there is of course time for mending it.