In morals her problems are still the old, passive problems. I use the word "old" with all respect. What moves her most is the idea of a conscience harassed by the memory of slighted obligations. Unless in the case of Savonarola, she has made no attempt to depict a conscience taking upon itself great and novel responsibilities. In her last work, assuredly such an attempt was—considering the title—conspicuous by its absence. Of a corresponding tendency in the second department of her literary character,—or perhaps I should say in a certain middle field where morals and æsthetics move in concert,—it is very difficult to give an example. A tolerably good one is furnished by her inclination to compromise with the old tradition—and here I use the word "old" without respect—which exacts that a serious story of manners shall close with the factitious happiness of a fairytale. I know few things more irritating in a literary way than each of her final chapters,—for even in "The Mill on the Floss" there is a fatal "Conclusion." Both as an artist and a thinker, in other words, our author is an optimist; and although a conservative is not necessarily an optimist, I think an optimist is pretty likely to be a conservative.
GRIFFITH GAUNT; OR, JEALOUSY.
CHAPTER XLI.
You say the pedler was a hundred yards behind my husband. Which of the two men was walking fastest?"
Thomas Hayes considered a moment. "Well, Dame, I think the Squire was walking rather the smartest of the two."
"Did the pedler seem likely to overtake him?"
"Nay. Ye see, Dame, Squire he walked straight on; but the pedler he took both sides of the road at onst, as the saying is."
Prisoner. Forgive me, Thomas, but I don't know what you mean.
Hayes (compassionately). How should ye? You are never the worse for liquor, the likes of you.
Prisoner (very keenly). O, he was in liquor, was he?
Hayes. Come, Dame, you do brew good ale at Hernshaw Castle. Ye needn't go to deny that; for, Lord knows, 't is no sin; and a poor fellow may be jolly, yet not to say drunk.
Judge (sternly). Witness, attend, and answer directly.
Prisoner. Nay, my lord, 't is a plain country body, and means no ill. Good Thomas, be so much my friend as to answer plainly. Was the man drunk or sober?
Hayes. All I know is he went from one side o' the road to t' other.
Prisoner. Thomas Hayes, as you hope to be saved eternally, was the pedler drunk or sober?
Hayes. Well, if I must tell on my neighbor or else be damned, then that there pedler was as drunk as a lord.
Here, notwithstanding the nature of the trial, the laughter was irrepressible, and Mrs. Gaunt sat quietly down (for she was allowed a seat), and said no more.
To the surgeon who had examined the body officially, she put this question: "Did you find any signs of violence?"
Surgeon. None whatever; but then there was nothing to go by, except the head and the bones.
Prisoner. Have you experience in
