BROTHER AND SISTER.*
THE writing of this book probably afforded its author gratifi- cation of an amiable kind, and doubtless it was put before the
world without overweening expectations as to its success. A great many good people write novels every day, and mean no harm. They have experiences, information, and the means of expression ; why should they not make a book out of the com- liination ? Who can say beforehand that the book will not be popular? Who can say that a man may not pick up a diamond worth ten thousand pounds, the next time he walks down the Strand ? A man may know that he is a genius ; but how can .a man know that he is not a genius, until he has proved it ? It might be answered that, although it may be supremely worth while to know that we are geniuses, it is intensely not worth -while to prove that we are not. But then there is always that pregnaut doubt, at least about a first attempt ; and Brother and Sister may be, as far as we know, a first attempt. It is not, however, a work of genius. It is a story of common-place people, told in a common-place way, with a flavour of weak lungs, German poetry, and opium. It might have been written by a charitable but inquiring invalid, whose faith in the litera- ture of the Fatherland was rather stronger than in the rationality of the Athanasian Creed. It contains no strong character-drawing ; any speech of any one of the personages of the story might as fittingly have been spoken by any other, without respect to age, sex, or circumstance, except in the case of old Mrs. Daintree, the butler's wife, who talks in a some- what eccentric dialect. The descriptions and other accessories are of such quality that, though the eye peruses them, the attention refuses to grasp them, or the memory to retain them. Many of the episodes and several of the characters have nothing particular to do with the story—if, that is, there be any story at all—a point on which we are by no means certain. On the other hand, the story is written in good English, is wholly free from any kind of bad-taste, and betrays here and there a power .of apprehending a situation or of reflecting a mood which stands out all the better for the insipidity of the environment.
There is no harm in the book, and we can easily forgive the author for having written it. After all, there are but two volumes of it ; and in these cases it is a Christian's duty to remember that although there might have been one, or none, there also might have been three. It is our belief that the whole novel of Brother and Sister may be comprised within the column and a.half still at our disposal, and gain greatly by the condensation ; and to prove our assertion, we intend to perform the feat. At the same time, we wish it distinctly understood that we do this without prejudice to our gratitude for the omission of the third volume.
• Brother and Sister: a Novel. By Lucy Scott. 2 vole. London : Macmillan and Co.
Duce upon a time, a wealthy gentleman named Ravenscroft lived in a country house called Netley Hull. He was twice married, the issue in each case being a son. The elder son and rightful heir was named Walter ; the younger, Walter's half- brother, was named Lionel. As they grow out of boyhood to- wards maturity, Lionel turned out to be a fine, hearty fellow enough, but inclined to be unsteady in his habits and careless of money. Walter was of a graver and more meagre cast, and, until shortly before his father's death, be was the latter's favourite. Towards the end, however, a baseless misunder- standing arose, which caused the father (in Walter's absence from home) to disinherit him iu favour of Lionel. But at the very last the misunderstanding was cleared up, and the old gentleman, on his death-bed, giving the two wills into his (second) wife's hands, bade her burn the one which disinherited Walter, and keep the one which gave him the inheritance. The good woman, naturally preferring her son to her stepson, burnt the wrong will, and thereby made Lionel the owner of Netley Hall. Old Mr. Ravenscroft died, and, in due time, Mrs. Ravenscroft followed him to the grave, but before doing so she said something to Lionel which made him suspect that all was not quite right. He ransacked an old desk, and found in a secret drawer the evidence of his mother's crime. For her sake, as well as for his own, he resolved to say nothing about it to Walter, or to anybody else ; but his conscience not allowing him to go on living in the house which was by right his brother's, he sold it and went to India, where he prospered. The injured Walter, meantime, had married, and had two children, Walter and Muriel, the brother and sister of our story. When, after several years, Lionel and his family returned from India, he accidentally ran across his brother, who had become somewhat unsound of mind, and who asked him in an unconciliating way to buy back Netley Hall. Lionel declared he could not do it ; whereupon Walter would have nothing more to say to him, and by-and-by died insane. The younger Walter, who took after his father in character and temperament, entered the Church, wore his hair long, preached unorthodox sermons, suffered from chronic pains in the head and unnatural bright. ness of the eyes, thought a great deal of himself and what was due to him, and cared for other people, his sister included, just so far as they ministered to his selfishness, and no further. He prided himself upon his wrongs, upon the family curse, and upon the similarity of his opium-dreams (lie took opium to ease the pains in his head) to those of De Quincey. His sister, Muriel, a stupid, sentimental, good-natured girl, took delight in persuading him that he was a genius, a demigod, and a greater invalid than he was ; and she vowed to remain unmarried, in order to nurse him,--an arrangement of which he thoroughly approved. One evening, on the borders of a lake, a young German gentleman turns up, Rudolf von Stein by name, five- and-twenty years of age, a soldier, a poet, and a confirmed con- sumptive. Muriel fell down on a slippery stone ; Rudolf picked her up, and fell in love with her. It transpired that Muriel and Walter were acquainted with Rudolf's sister, Adela, who was a !governess in Uncle Lionel Ravenscroft's family. A good deal of German poetry was thereupon quoted, written, and translated in foot-notes, and in the midst of it all Rudolf proposes, and is refused, for the reasons above indicated. Most of the characters are indisposed, and Dr. Russel finds plenty to do. Dr. Russel is a good young man, of a benevolent and practical disposition. He advises Walter not to take too much opium ; upon which the latter goes down to the shore to drown himself, but the doctor collars him and brings him home again, where his health slightly improves. Rudolf goes away somewhere, and his lungs become worse; lie writes long letters to Muriel, who replies in kind; he offers himself every now and then, and is refused, with increasing tenderness. The Franco-German war very properly breaks out at this juncture, and Rudolf sentimentally rejoins his regiment, and after being very brave, is shot at the moment of victory, and expires poetically.
So now it is time to give more attention to the miss- ing-will business. In the first [dace, the merchant who bought Netley Hall fails iu business, and Netley is once more thrown on the market. At the same moment, old Mrs. Daintree comes back from Australia. She was the wife of the butler of the original Mr. Ravenscroft ; and when Mrs. Ravenscroft burnt the will, Mrs. Daintree pocketed some un- consumed scraps of it, containing compromising dates and signa- tures, and kept them for thirty years, in order to produce them
abruptly in poor Mr. Lionel's drawing-room, and thereby frighten him into a partial paralysis, and make him promise to buy back Netley, and set all the crooked things straight. He does buy it back accordingly, but without letting his name appear as the purchaser; and in his will he orders that Netley shall go to Walter, as it ought to have gone to his father before him. But Nemesis is not to be so lightly appeased. Mr. Lionel, by way of curing his paralysis, climbs over an alp, and falls down, and is fatally injured. Muriel happens to be in the neighbourhood, and he makes his dying confession to her, and entreats her forgiveness. At first she declares she will not forgive him, but afterwards she tells him she will. He dies, and Muriel tells Walter all about it. He is furious with her for having forgiven the " murderer " of their father, and makes the some- what gratuitous statement that he, Walter, will not forgive him, either in this world or the next. He then looks up Mrs. Daintree, hears her story, curses her roundly, and frightens her off the place ; and he and Muriel quietly take up their abode in the ancestral mansion. 'Walter has by this time left the Church, and had his hair cut ; he is .now the Squire, and behaves as such. For some time past, Dr. Russel has been offering him- self to Muriel, who has given him the usual tenderly in- viting negatives ; but at last he has an explanation with the admirable Walter, who intimates that, as he finds his health improved, and has no particular need of Muriel at present, since he is going to be married himself, Russel may have her, if she does not mind. She admits that there is nothing she would like quite so much ; the enraptured. physician marries her as fast as he can, lest Walter should have another relapse ; and since these events occurred less than ten years ago, we may fairly presume that Dr. and Mrs. Russel are still living. As for Walter, we trust he is imprisoned in an iniquitously- managed private asylum for lunatics, but Miss Scott says nothing to encourage us in that hope ; and after all, we do not much care. If lie is as objectionable as a miasma, he is as unsubstantial as a miasma also, and we have no clearer idea of what the one looks like than of the other. Meanwhile, we would earnestly recommend Miss Scott to confine her literary talents in future to the translation of amateur German poetry, and to brace her mind by resisting the desire to publish the same. Why is it that so many women who, in private life, are full of mercy and benevolence, should show themselves so in- veterately and perennially inconsiderate towards the harmless, necessary critic ? What has he ever done to them ?
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