rt-story, or of a
chapter of narrative, should in nearly every case be assembled in an
ascending order of importance,--each incident carrying the interest
to a higher level than that of the preceding. The same is true of the
structure of a novel from the outset to the moment of the culmination;
but of course it is rarely possible in the _denouement_ to carry
the interest any higher than the level it attained at the point of
greatest complication. Climacteric progressiveness of structure is
effectively exhibited in Mr. Henry James' tale of mystery and
terror, "The Turn of the Screw." The author on horror's head horrors
accumulates, in a steadily ascending scale. But, on the other hand,
many stories have been marred by the introduction of a very striking
scene too early in the structure, after which there has succeeded of
necessity an appreciable diminution in the interest. The reason why
sequels to great novels have rarely been successful is that it has
been impossible for the author in the second volume to sustain a
climacteric rise of interest from the level where he left off in the
first.

A means of emphasis less technical and more psychological than those
which have been hitherto discussed is that which owes its origin to
surprise. Whatever hits the reader unexpectedly will hit him hard. He
will be most impressed by that for which he has been least prepared.
Chapter XXXII of "Vanity Fair" passes in Brussels during the battle of
Waterloo. The reader is kept in the city with the women of the story
while the men are fighting on the field a dozen miles away. All day a
distant cannonading rumbles on the ear. At nightfall the noise stops
suddenly. Then, at the end of the chapter, the reader is told:--

"No more firing was heard at Brussels--the pursuit rolled miles away.
Darkness came down on the field and city: and Amelia was praying for
George, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through his
heart."

This statement of George Osborne's death is emphasized in several ways
at once. It is made emphatic by position, since it is placed at the
very end of a long chapter; by inverse proportion, since it is set
forth in a single phrase after many pages that have been devoted to
less important matters; but most of all by the startle of surprise
with which it strikes the reader. Likewise, the last sentence of
de Maupassant's "The Necklace," quoted earlier in this chapter, is
emphatic by surprise as well as by positi