blueinkedfrost: (Canon necrophilia)
Emily Trevelyan and Louis Trevelyan seem to have a perfect marriage and a small son together, but when he accuses her of inappropriate behaviour with one of her father's old friends, an irreparable rift grows between them. Meanwhile, countless subplots deal with detailed love-affairs, strong-minded spinsters, Americans behaving like Americans, and private detectives who must have originated from an emigration scheme out of some Dickens novel. It's a classic Trollope, and I mean that entirely in the best sense. It was published in 1869.

Priscilla Stanbury, one of these cast of hundreds, is great. The narrator even suggests she might even be the real heroine of the story! An alleged man-hater (except for her brother, the narrative acknowledges), a woman who loves truth and honesty and standards, a happily single woman, a woman who cares for her family, and even a woman who speculates interestingly about the afterlife.

Priscilla was there also, guessing something of the truth, and speculating whether these two young people, should they love each other, would be the better or the worse for such love. There must be marriages,—if only that the world might go on in accordance with the Creator's purpose. But, as far as Priscilla could see, blessed were they who were not called upon to assist in the scheme. To her eyes all days seemed to be days of wrath, and all times, times of tribulation. And it was all mere vanity and vexation of spirit. To go on and bear it till one was dead,—helping others to bear it, if such help might be of avail,—that was her theory of life. To make it pleasant by eating, and drinking, and dancing, or even by falling in love, was, to her mind, a vain crunching of ashes between the teeth. Not to have ill things said of her and of hers, not to be disgraced, not to be rendered incapable of some human effort, not to have actually to starve,—such was the extent of her ambition in this world. And for the next,—she felt so assured of the goodness of God that she could not bring herself to doubt of happiness in a world that was to be eternal. Her doubt was this, whether it was really the next world which would be eternal. Of eternity she did not doubt;—but might there not be many worlds? These things, however, she kept almost entirely to herself.Read more... )

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