We have often met with women much more novel and profound in their observations than Laura Gay, but rarely with any so inopportunely long-winded. A clerical lord, who is half in love with her, is alarmed by the daring remarks just quoted, and begins to suspect that she is inclined to free-thinking. But he is mistaken; when in a moment of sorrow he delicately begs leave to ‘recall to her memory, a dépôt of strength and consolation under affliction, which, until we are hard pressed by the trials of life, we are too apt to forget’, we learn that she really has ‘recurrence to that sacred dépôt’, together with the teapot. There is a certain flavour of orthodoxy mixed with the parade of fortunes and fine carriages in Laura Gay, but it is an orthodoxy mitigated by study of ‘the humane Cicero’, and by an ‘intellectual disposition to analyse’.

Compensation is much more heavily dosed with doctrine, but then it has a treble amount of snobbish worldliness and absurd incident to tickle the palate of pious frivolity. Linda, the heroine, is still more speculative and spiritual than Laura Gay, but she has been ‘presented’, and has more, and far grander, lovers; very wicked and fascinating women are introduced – even a French lionne; and no expense is spared to get up as exciting a story as you will find in the most immoral novels. In fact, it is a wonderful pot pourri of Almack’s, Scotch second-sight, Mr Rogers’s breakfasts, Italian brigands, death-bed conversions, superior authoresses, Italian mistresses, and attempts at poisoning old ladies, the whole served up with a garnish of talk about ‘faith and development’, and ‘most original minds’. Even Miss Susan Barton, the superior authoress, whose pen moves in a ‘quick decided manner when she is composing’, declines the finest opportunities of marriage; and though old enough to be Linda’s mother (since we are told that she refused Linda’s father), has her hand sought by a young earl, the heroine’s rejected lover. Of course, genius and morality must be backed by eligible offers, or they would seem rather a dull affair; and piety, like other things, in order to be comme il faut, must be in ‘society’, and have admittance to the best circles.