"You can't explain, or deny it—I am to infer that," persisted Antomarchi; "you can't."
     "I can't—can I?—I can't—oh! what is it?—I feel so strangely." She shook her ears as if a fly was humming at them, and lifted her pretty fingers towards her temple vaguely. (344-45)

This incredibly dull novel focuses on a young woman who is wrongfully committed to a mental asylum (as the Victorians were always worried about); I read it as part of my project on Victorian scientists, curious about Doctor Antomarchi, the overseer of the asylum. Antomarchi might write some of the best papers in scientific journals (179), but he doesn't do much science-y stuff on the page. Mostly he's a malevolent mesmerist, as in the above passage, where he won't let our young hero say that she's not really suicidal, thanks to the malign power of his gaze. The actual asylum part is interesting, but it's just the last hundred pages or so in a four-hundred-page novel. Nothing that interesting happens prior to that; just people dancing and arguing. Not worth it at all.

(The introduction to my Valancourt edition is weird, spending dozens of pages telling you about Irish political history before it even gets to the novel. Establish a context for me to care before you begin going on about this! I tuned out long before she made any kind of claims about why knowing Irish political history would enhance my interpretation of the novel.)

While on holiday with an elderly relative, Maud Medwyn is stalked by a one-eyed preacher. When she returns home she is caught up in a plot to hide a terrible family secret.

It's clear who the Bad People are in this story - it's also clear that Something Dreadful will happen. The mystery lies in what the evil is, how it manifests and how the various Bad People fit into the story. The tension builds slowly but surely, with a gripping plot and terrifying villains. The speedy resolution comes more as a happy relief than a disappointment.