PERCY, OR TEE OLD LOVE AND TILE NEW,
Is not equal in breadth and purpose to the writer's previous novel of The Henpecked Husband. Wherever some leading idea from which a general moral can be deduced is clearly presented in a work of imagination, that work will have a value and produce an effect, though the details may be incongruous or faulty. Nay, such is the power of a pervading Principle, that the moral will still impress, though the particular story by Winch the author conveys it may be unlikely or exaggerated. When this largeness is absent, though the story may be more congruous with itself, if not with nature, the incidents less distasteful, the details more pleasing, and the composition more carefully finished, the whole will be less im- pressive. Such is the case in Percy: the society it depicts is less odd than that of its predecessor; the characters are more numerous, and more lifelike, if somewhat more commonplace; and we think the execution Superior, especially in the style. The story—that thread which holds to- gether the whole work from the opening scene to the finis—contains a much less general conclusion; while those traits and occurrences which
influence the progress and denouement of that story are unlikely—either artificial or overdone, or incongruous by the transplantation of the spirit of the wildest romance into a regular modern society. Error in the story, indeed, is the rock which wrecks so many novelists. There are many clever painters of society; no lack of persons equal to the contrivance of a situation or the production of a scene ; some who combine dramatic skill with the just conception and consistent development of a character; but the whole is deficient in natural motive power ; the causes which de- termine the conduct of the story are insufficient, or unlikely, or even pro- voking. It must however be said, that the best novelists are the best in this mastery of the probabilities of life. Marryat, Cooper, and James, are stronger than their brethren on this point. The second title of the book, " the Old Love and the New," is mere verbiage, or, like " the Henpecked Husband," conveys a false impression. The essential part of the story is short. Percy, who may be called the hero, is a gooduatured, lively, impressible young officer, whom his friends suppose to he a general lover. Ile has, however, long nourished a secret passion for Edith Espinall, with whom he has been brought up; but has never told his love, nor does Edith suspect it. As sometimes happens in such cases, Percy carries a friend with him into Edith's society. Sinclair at first mistakes Edith's character, from confounding her reserve with coldness ; finally they become attached. Edith, having oftener than once rejected Percy's proposals, finally consents to accept him, on a report of Sinclair's death. This, of course, turns out to be false; and Percy sur- prises the lovers together, in a moment of agonizing explanation. Exas- perated with the idea of treachery, Percy sends a friend to Sinclair ; when the accidental nature of the whole is explained. On Beckenham's cheerful return, he is horrified to find his friend mortally wounded. Cleaning his pistols in expectation of a meeting, and ignorant that one was loaded, Percy has been struck by its explosion ; but, in anticipation of a fatal meeting with Sinclair, he has left a paper trusting that Edith may be happy with his rival : which, considering his feelings towards him, is not very consistent.
As this outline is elongated into three volumes, there is, of course, a very varied filling-up, not only by the main story of Percy, Sinclair, and Edith, with obstacles of fortune, a duel, exile, and so forth, but by col- lateral incidents and persons. These may have too much resem- blance to the material of circulating library novels ; but some attraction is given to them by the distinct perception and the clear and animated style of the writer. Of the graver scenes a specimen will suffice. It is the explanatory interview between Edith Espivall and Sinclair, on his return.
"It was Edith who spoke first. It was Edith, who, with all a woman's strength of mind and energy of purpose when roused to action and exertion, sustained the conversation during that long and trying interview' and detailed, with clear simplicity yet deep feeling, the events of the years that had passed since Sinclair and herself had parted. "In all she said, no reproach either of word, look, or tone, escaped her. She spoke of the long-drawn hours and days of suspense—of the final extinction of hope—of the time spent in seeking health in other lands—and of Percy's devo- tion throughout. "She spoke of his first proposal, rejected; of his second, the same; then of the report of Sinclair's death, and its apparent authenticity; and finally, of the third offer of that heart which had proved so constant and so true. "'And now—for the first time; she continued, her voice at last faltering, and large tears gathering in her averted eyes, 'for the first time, I listened, and I relent- ed. I thought that when one so volatile could so change his nature as to become the most constant, the most unchangeable, and the most devoted, that I had some hope of happiness, and that at all events such patience merited some re- ward: my friends, on all sides, supported me in my opinion, and urged me to the step which eventually I took. I accepted Frank Percy.'
"Here Edith paused, and tears choked her utterance. A dead silence ensued. From the moment she had begun her recital, Sinclair had leant his elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands; but now he looked up with a glance of startled inquiry—he did not seem to think words necessary—Edith's voice had spoken in such low, tremulous tones, that he felt as if he could not disturb the perfect stillness which succeeded when she had ceased to speak; but he waited breathlessly for her next words.
" I accepted him!' she at last continued: 'I looked upon the past as gone for ever, beyond revival—I thought of you only as one would think of the dead —I found that one for whom I had always entertained the affection of a sister depended upon me for happiness, and'—here Edith turned, and took up the letter which she had written that morning to Percy. "'And till an hour ago,' she resumed, 'Iwas engaged to be his wife. The preparations for our marriage are almost concluded, and a casualty alone took him away from me: read this letter; it will greet him on his return; read, and then, Mr. Sinclair, we part—for ever.'
"Sinclair almost snatched it from her; over the few hurried but portentous lines his eye ran wildly—' We part !' he stammered; ' we, Edith? not you and I?' " Yes; said Edith, turning away, faint and sick at heart; yes, for ever. I would not so injure and outrage Frank Percy as to have it otherwise: this is our last meeting, and my determination is irrevocable.'
"'Never!' cried Sinclair with sudden vehemence starting forward and seizing her trembling hands. We do not part now, Edith ! I have suffered too much, and we have loved too well. Yes' do not look that indignant denial—I repeat it, we have both loved too well. Every word you have uttered proves it, and your own testimony bears evidence to it. Edith, I will never give you up! no power on earth shall wrest my prize from me now that it is in my grasp, and Percy shall give way to me.'
"Edith shook her head.
" 'Never; she said: it is not a question between Frank and you. I, and I alone, act in this case. He shall give way to none. lie has loved me truly, deeply, disinterestedly, and he deserves every consideration from me; he deserves this poor compensation for the part I have unwittingly played—and in making this sacrifice—. . " You have said it!' exclaimed Sinclair, snatching her hands to his lips, and showering kisses on them; 'you have said it, my own Edith, and your own words have convicted you! you loved me—yoti love me still—or rejecting me would be no sacrifice. We will not part—no power shall part us " 'Great Heaven ! ' ejaculated Edith, in a half-smothered whisper, as, wresting her hands front Sinclair a grasp, she staggered towards a chair, 'help me now! Look round. . . "Sinclair turned; and there, at his elbow, horror-struck, ghastly, and speech- less, stood a spectator of the scene—the injured man himself. There face to face, eyeing each other with looks of mutual defiance, yet each perfectly mute, stood Sinclair and Percy—the Old Love and the New."
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