y. There is indeed more faith in these
honest denials than in half the assents of the conformists. Just because
it is not a subtle book it should not be "dangerous." It is romantic,
rather; inspired, you might loosely say. The _Index Expurgatorius_ will
of course list it when they learn of it; but foolishly, because while
the philosophy, the cosmology, the metaphysics may be advanced (so
advanced as to be called hasty and apt to run into the theological
barrages), the religion, the mysticism, the "conviction of sin," the
vision of the invisibles, the perception of the imponderables, are
positive, vivid, sincere, passionate in phrasing and in intention.
Sincere as Mr. WELLS is always sincere; sincere rather than stable,
patient, learned and so forth. I rather wonder that he insists so much
on his _finite_ God. The postulate hardly touches his real thesis. And I
find it easier to believe that there may be some things behind "this
round world" that Mr. WELLS cannot fully understand because he (the
author) is finite--and busy--than accept what seems a contradiction in
terms to no particular end.

* * * * *

The author of _Grand Chain_ (NISBET) is profoundly aware that man is not
the master of his fate (though he may be the captain of his soul, which
is quite a different matter), and that the claim so universally put
forward, that the leopard can change his spots, is simply an excuse for
criticising the superficial pigmentation of other leopards. _Dermod
Randall_, Miss G.B. STERN'S hero, is certainly not the master of his
fate, which is inexorably moulded by the belief of his relatives,
ascendant and descendant, that he must inherit the vices of his father,
a particularly pard-like specimen, and may be expected at any minute to
come out in spots himself. As a matter of fact his only failings were a
young heart and a sense of humour; but, as these qualities were as out
of place in the _Randall_ family as a hornpipe at a funeral, _Dermod_
lives under a perpetual cloud of unmerited suspicion. How he is
compressed into a life groove, of which an ineffably turgid
respectability provides the chronic atmosphere, is the theme of _Grand
Chain_. And because the author possesses a wonderfully delicate gift of
satire and a power of character delineation that never gets out of hand,
she has written a novel deserving of more praise than the usual
reviewer, all too timid of superlatives, may venture to give.