e difficult feat of treating a love conceived in a
romantic vein without declining upon sentimentality, and seasons her
descriptions, which are shrewdly, sometimes delicately, observed,
with quite a pretty wit. I commend it as a sound, unpretentious,
honestly-written book. _Sir Julian Verny_, a baronet with brains and
a very difficult temper, falls a captive to _Marian's_ proud and
compelling beauty. Then, just before the War flames up, secret service
claims him, and he returns from a dangerous mission irretrievably
crippled. _Marian_ fails him. True, she disdains to be released, but
out of pride not out of love. It is little grey suppressed _Stella_
(her light has been hidden under the dull bushel of a Town Clerk's
office) who comes into her kingdom and wins back an ultra-sensitive
despairing man to the joy of living and working and the fine humility
of being dependent instead of masterful. There are so many _Julians_
and there's need of so many _Stellas_ these sad days that it is well
to have such wholesome doctrine stated with so courageous an optimism.

* * * * *

There is a sentence on page 149 of _A Castle to Let_ (CASSELL) which,
though not for its style, I feel constrained to quote: "It was a
glorious day, the sunshine poured through the green boughs, and the
moss made cradles in which most people went to sleep with their
novels." Well, given a warm day and a comfortable resting-place, this
book by Mrs. BAILLIE REYNOLDS would do excellently well either to
sleep or keep awake with, according to your mood. The scene of it is
laid in Transylvania, where a rich young Englishwoman took an old
castle for the summer. Incidentally I have learned something about the
inhabitants of Transylvania, but apart from that I know now exactly
what a novel for the holidays should contain. Its ingredients are many
and rather wonderful, but Mrs. REYNOLDS is a deft mixer, and her skill
in managing no fewer than three love affairs without getting them and
you into a tangle is little short of miraculous. Then we are given
plenty of legends, mysteries and dreams, just intriguing enough to
produce an eerie atmosphere, but not sufficiently exciting to cause
palpitations of the heart. Need I add that the tenant of the castle
married the owner of it? As she was both human and sporting, it
worries me to think that she may now be interned.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Patriot Gol