The Comtesse Sylvie Hermenstein, an altogether delightful lady, marries Aubrey Leigh and leaves the Church of Rome. The story of her doing so, of the struggles of the Romish priesthood to retain her and her wealth, and of the methods by which they endeavored to attain that end, is in itself a stirring narrative.
Marie Corelli is altogether pleasing, not only to those who approve the mission of her book, but to many of her most severe critics, in her account of the life which Leigh in younger days had led in a Cornish fishing village, working as one of themselves amongst the rugged, true-hearted, brave men who with all their roughness of character are perhaps stauncher in a simple faith in God than many of those who ostentatiously worship in fine churches. She pens, too, many delightful, humorous, and pathetic pictures of the French peasantry.
Quite another story is the love, or, rather, two loves, of Angela Sovrani. When we first make her acquaintance—a woman, yet one of the finest artists in the world—she is betrothed to Florian Varillo, a man with a character of almost impossible evil. We wish we could regard the character as absolutely impossible. Varillo is also an artist, handsome, unprincipled, egotistical to the worst degree, believing himself great and holding
