REVIEW.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 4, Issue 1073, 13 May 1882, Page 1 (Supplement)

REVIEW.

"THE STORY OF A SIN.":,. Wo have received from Mr,, George Robertsoil'an Australian, edition of a now work by. Helen Mathers, author of "Comin'Thro' thoßyo." ■' '' '" ' The Story of. a Sin is a powerfully written sketch, full of exciting incidents, and in which the interest never flags for an instant.. Thero. is. not a dull page in the whole book. Tho plot; is boldly conceived, and carefully schemed throughout, carrying ou the reader's absorbed attention until the threads |aro all gathored up, and tho climax reached in a masterly and thrilling dauntmeat, Tho characters aro drawn in Miss Mathers', usual life-liko style and carefully delineated, and presont a striking and vivid contrast of coloring.-Take Mr. Eyro, the story ofwhose sin and its consequences form the,groundwork of tho talo-" Haughty, brilliant, with a dark peculiar beauty, as coveted by.monas. it was dangerous towomenj" and ;the;descendant of a raoe who " for the last hundred years had been an enigma to the world, and perhaps to themselves; yet, though' their: deeds wero eeccntrio to tho verge of madness, none could point to a single.mstance of insanity in tho family, and, as timeWenton, the. world gave up wondering, and accepted the Eyres as .a raoe of beings too distinct from ordinary human beings to be judged by the canons that ruled mankind." Then com-, pare this dark, reserved, unbending,man, with Frank, Lord Lovel, with, his bright/ joyous disposition, and fair, handsome face; one of- "the Lovels" who "was alius a swcot-blooded, clean, limbedlot, and therewas never a word th' discredit o' any one b' 'em;" and who carried with him everywhere the radiance of his presence, "in at the chinks of men's shut hearts, and in lonely, places that the sun had forgotten, and, in, short; into overy nook and corner where his eye glanced, and his step came,"making "oneof-those lovely figures that no man, or woman* either, could look on without admiration of that sort which leans to love." Then again plaoe: side by side" the little wild Madcap," like a delicate morsel of Sovres china, with" no color anywhere save on her lips and cheeks, and tho little chestnut, head in whose soft rings the red-gold lurked," with her. pure' sweet soul and child-like faith in the "ebonhaired" jealous husband-whose idolatrous; love for his fair young wife was tho bright spot in his stern, selfish nature, and which had so changed him and turned his wild careor that old Job " wonders" to his young master "if he knows his own face in the' glass, ho's that altered; he's a justice and a magistrate,, and punishes folks for being wicked instead of making'em so, as he and the Eyres did aforo him;" and Hester Clarko, with a face "beautiful through all its haggardness and anguish, of olive.tint, framed in masses of blue-back hair, with eyes

Deeper than the Of waters still'd at even, with her strong passionato love, and noble renunciation And the reader will see the refined taste that has grouped the central figures with a true artist's appreciation of light and shade-a cleverly drawn- picture that will leave a never-fading impression on the mind, when the pages of a " Story of a Sin" has been closed for the last time, and the book laid aside with regret that tho final chapter has been reached of a most pathetic and entrancing novel. Some portions of this work remind us forcibly of that wonderfully weird production of. "Tho Scarlet Letter," which so few writers have ever approached in intensity and pathos. Take for instance the interview between Madcap and Hester in the coppice, "that lovers'walk, which of evenings was never without its rustic pair, but, by day, rested still as a cloister, with the flowers for : nuns, and a bright-winged, angelic-tongued choir of birds for choristers;" also where Eyre denounces -himself as the father of Hester's' child, and those who have revelled in the beauties of Nathaniel Hawthorne's charming work will, doubtless, perceive tho parallel where the minister declares himself tho parent of the elfish littlo Pearl, both only finding relief in the open confession of.the tin that had laid so heavily upon him, and rondered his daily life an unbearable torment. Here is an extract from the meeting quoted above:—"Think of it," she cried, her eyes seeking Madcap's with a despairing hunger in their depths, " one moment to have your child in your mind alive, as you have always known it; for your heart to leap up as at the sound of its coming—to feel it but a hand's'breadth away to run to it, and to be met with empty arms and one little word—ifarrf.' Nothing warm, living, real, that you could clasp to your breast, but a name, a nothing: —a word behind which his living body is hid— dtidb She took me to a grave, and said it was his. , , dead—dead—but I never went there again; it was my living ohild that I remembered—that I wantcdnot my dead one!" ; The following prose poem has a touch, too, of Longfellow's ex:, quisite description in the" Golden Legend": it lies-at once our pain, our punishment, and our joy, , , all that we might havo been, all that we can never be, we seem to aeo in the little flickering life before us. . ', in that tiny hand' lie, possibilities that were onco our own, and that one by one we have missed or flung away,'and between.him and us como a thousand subtle, vivid suggestions that never pass betwixt us and other facts that wo 10ve... We cannot see God's hand, but a. hushed, yearning, fear is upon us, and we dare not rail against Him, or cry aloud, as wo hold upon our knees the little shape that has never sinned or struggled! never vexed our hearts or needed t6 .beg our forgiveness, ... As : the "cry rises involuntarily that we may be permitted to give our own life for the child, midway the answer silences it. 'Yours is little—his is much I'-and the prayer- changes, on our lips' to one for ourselves, we being so much more, in need of prayer than he. And so he remains to us, all our lives long, the might have been of tears—the littlo snowy sail set to the ocean of eternity that has reached alone an anchorage that the most eager of us may never hope to win, and the spot in OHr heart that baby hand has touched : remains ever vital, while that memory may hold us back from sin, and influence us for good to our dying day." One'short paragraph, will show that the author's powers of description are equal to her other merits: "The fool's-parsley had emerged to look for his brothrcn above ground, and gone home again, not' having learned much.that was new; the asphodel had come again, asking the old question that so few of us can answer, and the flying ants been received with hatred, and seen to depart with joy, In thatripe, still splendor of field, and wood, and sky, there was a gorgeous solemnity, a superb hush, as though, having run it 3 utmost limit of perfection, tho hand of the dial now struck tho hour in ono perfected note, then turned to retrace its Bteps, a little of the wealth and life lessening with its every step, and growing greyer and colder as it retreated," Tho book abounds with such passages as these. Oncof the best Bcenes; in the whole book is the.death-bed of thejeprobate, cynical old squire, dying as

lie had lived, exhibiting the" ruling passion! strong in .death." That has been his characteribtio.througli life, like-others ihihistoryj who liavegone down-into the-valloyof. shadows with;" tired head and, painted faces," or with' the profane: jestjlingering;on the last fleet' breath., A.soeno.perhapsmore truotoriaturoij than many are aware of; i who picturoi.to themselves that aithe approach of the "'king of terrors," the greatestisinner -becomes, a: saint, hut: to quote the old squire,-"thoro are:fifty.roads .to) town, andirather more to Heaven."':. ,; ; ...

| From this Imperfect review the public can to some extent judge,of. the character, of the high-class novel Mr. Robertson, with,his usual,good taStOj..'has:.introduce'd:to their notice, and we can but add, leaving much untold that would, onlytako away from the keen relish,in, store for. the.searcher after, a really good novel,' that to'tho lover of sensa-. tionalism there.are enough of startling situa. tio'ns, in the book td-satisfy eye'n .the j most exacting in,tl)is, respect.'; and to. those who seek.for a. higher gratification,of, the senses. ri a Wealth pf imagery ,and glowing description we can heartily : rec.ommend the "Story of a Sin " as a perfect feast of reason and a flow of soul, confidently predicting that when once the, ':' small ,'houra!' of .the night, may creep on apace and still'find the fascinated admirer of sweet, loyely, Madcap poring over the book, smiling or weeping by turns .as they follow the fortunes 'of one of the most charming heroines it has been our lot to meet with, or raised' to enthusiasm by the noble selfabnegation of Frank to shield tho woman he lias so fondly loved; but who his friend has supplanted in his affeotions, from the effects of her husband's sin and its bitter fruits.

; The moral'of the 1 story points -to "Bo sure your sin will find you out," and shows how Mr, Eyro's folly-not only wrecked his own happiness, but in its train of dreadful consequences involved the destruction of the only being that had power to influence him for good,' and Sent him forth,to seek,-"in a life of perpetual, adventure, to: ; esoape the : memory of the, woman he had- so deeply iloved." .-.,:,:■