NEW NOVELS..

Tam new novel of Dark and Fair, by the author of " Rockingham," has less of variety, action, and the kind of incidents which are termed deep or interesting, than his previous fictions.

It is properly a novel of character and manners ; for the etory is slight and the incidents are few. Sir Charles Rockingham, weary of the world, retires to his estate in the very prime of life. One day he receives a letter from Ids cousin Lady Dieaway, asking him to invite her, as if spontaneously, to his country-house. When she arrives -with her daughter Lavinia, it turns out that mamma has hit upon this plan to break off an attachment between " 'Nanny " and her roué cousin Lord Walter Languidford. At first the scheme seems worse than vain. Sir Charles, moved by the dis tress of the young lady, permits her to invite her hoyden friend Lady Camilla Dareall, and she brings Lord Walter with her ;

so that the diplomacy is worsted by as much as the solitude of a country, house is better for love-making than the various distractions of a London season. However, Lady Camilla accidentally gets hold of a letter from a demirep to Lord Walter, and is so disgusted that she tells all to Lavinia, and the affair is at an end. The final upshot is that Lavinia marries Rockingham, and Lady Camilla Walter.

The mistake of the book is its length. Except a few servants and other persons occasionally heard of, there are only five dramatis personce—Rockingham, Lady Dieaway, the two heroines, and Lord Walter. The scene may be said to be at a countryhouse • the occurrences are of the common kind ; the story, in fact, being carried on by dialogue. For the most part this is of a comic cast, sometimes almost farcical : the whole is less flat than the tamer scenes in the same author's " Electra " ; but three volumes of discourse about little more than nothing at all is too much.

There is no particular novelty in the majority of the characters. Rockingham is somewhat of the gentlemanlike philosopher or prig; Lady Dieaway is merely redeemed from the common worldly fashionable mother by her genuine anxiety for her daughter's happiness • the heroine, Vinny, is a commonplace heroine ; the formal butler and the hysterical housekeeper, though amusing, are not new. The strength and interest of the book mainly centre in Lady Camilla and Lord Walter. The idea of Lady Camilla had been already produced in the Sophy of "Electra";

; but she is a good sketch of the frank, fearless, high-spirited girl, emboldened by education and circumstances to disregard conventions, but possessing truth and feminine feeling at bottom. Lord Walter is the young fashionable epicurean, of imperturbable selfpossession and confidence, but with shrewd good sense and (we are told) with some good qualities under a surface of dandyism, as well as an affected substitution of the letter w for r which is not so effective in print as some other forms of depraved pronunciation. Here he is on the morning of the discovery, when Lady Camilla, after a little scene, has just rushed from the breakfasttable with the unlucky letter. "Her departure induced no disquietude on the part of my companion. He finished his strawberries with the most unruffled composure, and then, but then only, observed rather dogmatically, It's a stwange thing, Calcwaft, how nothing in this world will wun quite smooth. Here are the stwawbewwies at last, and vewy good they are; but on the pwecise day of their first appeawance at bweakfast, up tuwns with them this unpwopitious occuwwence. How came old Wedhill to put Selina Bwown's letter before Cammy ? '

"'1 have no conception, Lord Walter.' " ' Well, well, what can't be cuwed must be enduwed.' . " ' You have certainly acted admirably up to the precept,' I could not but remark.

" My good fwiend,' replied be, fwom the first moment I saw that there was no wemedy ; and where I Beene wemedy, I always avoid distwessing myself. Without wegular violence, I could never have wasted the letter fwom Cammy ; and even if I had wecovewed it, I could not have pwevented her being in possession of its contents. I also well knew that, headstwong as she is, no one could pwevail upon her to keep her own counseL I wesolved, therefore, at once to put the best face I could upon the twansaction, wesewvitg to myself the wight of bwinging 'Nanny wound again when the ivout with Cararuy will be over.'

" I see.'

" 'Pewhaps after all, Calcwaft, it is as well that Vinny should learn that, though I'never put myself out of my way for any living cweature, other girls than she may have—eh, bum—the outwageous bad taste to take a fancy to me! and when such misfortunes occur, what are we to do but to have wecourse to some honouwable compwomise ? Vinny's feelings, of course, must be the pwime object, but some wegard must also be shown for other bweaking hearts.'

a Dark and Fair. By Sir Charles Rockingham, Author of "Rockingham," Electra," &c. In three volumes. Published by Hurst and Blacken. The Rival Suitors: a Novel. By Mrs. Hubback, Authoress of " The Wife's Sister," &c. In three volumes. Published by Skeet.

GIMICOOd Manor-Rowe : a NoTel. B; Esther Bakewell. Published by Hall and Virtue. " ' It would scarcely be considerate otherwise,' observed I, for want of something better to say. " Pweeisely ; and Vinny will be bwought to compwehend this, just as she will get weconciled to the chewoots, after a little gentle pwessure. Now having finished my bweakfast—and a vewy good one, too—I think that I will stwoll leisuwely down, and wefwesh myself with a weed, in the diwection of the summer-house. Cammy shall have a fair field and a pwodigious start; but I shall be vewy much surpwised, if, when I step in at last, I don't win the waee at a modewate Canter.' " The leading incident in Mrs. Hubback's _Rival Suitors is a case of bigamy, perpetrated by a gentleman of somewhat mature age, who has already had two wives, with a family by his first wife. The victim' Nora Moore, is a young girl respectably connected, though not of the same soffial rank as her husband Mr. Mortimer. The interest or distress is various. There is Nora's unsuccessful lover and cousin Captain Barton, with his struggles between his regard and his jealousy ; there is the natural enough ill-will of Mr. Mortimer's grown-up daughters on seeing so young a wife brought home as mistress of the house ; while Mr. Mortimer, -though devotedly attached to Nora, is made to appear cross-grained, through the difficulties of his position, and the well-founded apprehension that the Frenchwoman, who is the (second) veritable wife, will turn up with unpleasant consequences. This fear is verified. Captain Barton discovers the facts, and gratifies his vengeance, as Nora's nearest relation and guardian, spite of all advice and remonstrance, under the plea of duty to his ward and regard for public justice. His revenge, however, is only partially gratified. Mortimer escapes the police, to perish through the conflagration of the ship in which he embarks. The unlikelihood of a gentleman of fortune, and a widower with a family, allowing himself to be drawn into a dilemma of this kind, is obvious ; but this being passed over, the story is consistent enough. Manners, as nicely denoting particular classes of society, are not perhaps to be found in the volume, unless it be in Nora, Captain Barton, and his elderly maiden sister Miriam ; and those are too obviously of the commoner class of middle life to be pleasing in fiction. There is character in the three lastnamed persons, as well as in Mr. Mortimer and his daughters ; but the two most prominent figures, Mortimer and Barton, are somewhat too natural to be interesting ; they have those defects which it is the business of art to correct. The _Rival Suitors, however, is an interesting circulating library book, and a considerable improvement on the writer's former novels. It has greater mass and breadth, with a more sustained interest. The final close, when Nora, improved by knowledge of the world, strengthened by suffering, and matured by experience, forgives her cousin, but with gentle peremptoriness rejects his proffered love is a rational termination. The majority of novelists would certainly have knocked up a marriage between the heroine and her cousin.

The scenes are the most powerful parts of the tale, because the passion and animation of dialogue always have more force than the mere description of emotion. The most effective scenes relate to the discovery. Here is an interview which the parish-clergyman has with the two youngest Miss Mortimers, to break the truth to them, when Captain Barton with the police has invaded Brierly Park.

"Raving ascertained that both doors were securely closed, Mr. Armytage turned to his two frightened auditors, and said, 'I need hardly bid you prepare for unwelcome tidings, I see. Indeed, the events of last night, your sister's illness, your father's absence, the sudden flight of your French guest, the intrusion of these police-officers—all must have alarmed. you; and yet—' he stopped, evidently distressed to a degree which deprived of words. " Go on,' said Margherite, stiffening herself into a rigid attitude, whilst every muscle of.ahaenrgfaiacedyandaatir ihrequaitvaeariViftah szreasnsedd emotion. "'My hand kindly, 'would that I could find language 'Zo soften to you the blow which has prostrated your elder sister.' "'Go on,' hoarsely murmured she: my father ? ' " ' Yes, it is of your father I must speak. When he was abroad some years ago, he fell in with a French girl whom he was induced to marry,. She had a child, a son; they are both, I believe, at this moment alive, and in England!' "Margherite drew her breath sharply, and then, with convulsive energy, cried, or rather screamed the words, 'It is false ! ' "'No wonder it seems so to you,' replied he, in the gravest, saddest tone; and they were silent for some minutes. "But the haughty girl knew right well in her very heart that Mr. Armytag° would not have come thus to her with a false or even a doubtful tale, and every circumstance of the last week rushing on her mind, brought fearful confirmation of the account. She started up in agony, and once or twice she paced the room, struggling with the vehement emotions which were choking her; striving to keep under the inclination to shriek aloud in her mental torture, and refusing to give way to the slightest appearance of weakness. Then she hastily swallowed a glass of water, and, returning to the

as

clergyman who w leaning on the table by which he sat, with his hand over his eyes, she laid a firm grasp upon the 'back of his chair, and murmured softly, Your proofs ? ' "'The proofs are in the hands of Captain Barton, who arrived here last night to remove his cousin. They are such that a magistrate has issued a warrant for his—your father's arrest. The wife—the real wife of your father—was alive when Mr. Lawrence left Airstone yesterday morning.' "'And Mrs. Mortimer is not his wife after all,' said Bertha, whose sobs had ceased whilst listening to this story, and who only vaguely took in the real facts of the case. Margherite cast one look of contempt on her; Mr. Armytage did not even hear her. " The penalty, ? ' said the elder sister. "'Transportation for fourteen years,' was the brief reply. "Margherite shuddered., and turned a deadlier white even than she had been before: her lips quivered so that she could hardly frame another question, and her throat and mouth were so dry with terror that her words came in low harsh whispers.

'" Inevitably--certainly "Re shook his head.

"'And she?

"'She/—the victim in this house' do you mean?'

"She made a motion of assent; ashuddering, horrified motion. "'She bade me tell you this—she could not meet you. You may guess

her sufferings at this oruel discovery.'

• "They were silent once more, and Margherite resumed her hasty walk. Then suddenly stopping, and facing him again, she exclaimed, 'Is it inevitable? is there no way of stopping this, of avoiding disgrace, exposure, infamy ? Who prosecutes? whose doing is this?' "Captain Barton, as the cousin and guardian of this injured lady, is the man who has brought the matter forward.' . "But what good will it do to carry out the law ? it cannot undo the past ! Surely there cantle no object so great to her as concealment and silence. They may ruin us all, but they only publish her misfortune. She shall • have anything—money, whatever she would ask. I would give her every farthing of my own for secrecy. Oh, tell her she has but to command her price—nay, but I will tell her myself, I will kneel to her—if she ever loved my father, and I am sure she did, if she values peace and honour and good fame for herself, let her have pity on us. Think, only think what the consequences are !'

Margherite Mortimer, you know—no one better knows, whether Mr. Mortimer's daughters have any claim on the forbearance' the affection, or even the pity of her who has for the last three mouths held the place of their mother.'

"As he uttered these words, so sadly, and vet so pointedly enounced, Margherite's accusing conscience cried aloud. She turned aside, and sank dowse on a seat, hiding her face with her hands, crouching all in a heap, with her head on the cushions, shaking visibly in every limb. The wild and wicked words she had once uttered, the protest that she would part with anything:, with all, to know that the object of her hatred was not her father's wife, came back upon her mind. Here was her wish granted to the full ! Oh, mocking thought! Iler wish granted—and yet she shrank from it, and cried aloud for respite, not only because she dreaded to pay the price, but because the fulfilment of her wish was itself the most fearful torture."

Esther BakewelPs fiction of Glenwood Manor-House is rather a tale than a novel proper, and draws its materials more from i books than life. There s a certain degree of style and the power of depicting the writer's own conceptions, with force and even vivacity; but we are carried among the incidents and indeed the characters of a bygone time. As Lord Castlereagh would have said, the "fundamental feature on which the story hinges," is the forced marriage of a young lady by a guardian to himself, with a subsequent imprisonment in an upper room and deprivation of her children till she signs a paper to dispossess herself of property. Mr. Stafford, guardian and husband, having got himself into further difficulties, evades the country, and does not turn up again till quite the end of the tale, when he appears to explain, repent, and die. Mrs. Stafford changes her name to Maitland, and brings up her daughters genteelly. At this point the story proper begins. Helen, the eldest daughter, goes as companion to the wife of a rich relation, Mr. Kingley of Glenwood Manor-House. His character is that mixture of oddity, kind-heartedness, weakness, and strength, which the dramatists and novelists among our grandfathers delighted to depict. His wife is a lofty lady, but open to flattery ; and there is an influential housekeeper, malicious and thievish: Helen, whose principles till her reform are none of the loftiest, lays herself open to suspicion by prying and peeping, till a charge of robbery is fastened upon her ; though all comes right at last, and for her sister Edith as well.