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CHARLOTTE BRONTË.
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exempt from its own special chances of error, its own peculiar liabilities to wrong. But from any such error and from any such collapse as those on which we have remarked in others—from all such disloyalty to clear moral law, from all such debasement or degradation of high personal instinct—from all malevolence, from all brutality, from all selfish and vindictive cowardice—from any taint of vile or vulgar or ignoble sympathies, no human spirit was ever more triumphantly delivered—was ever more gloriously free.
Another not insignificant point of difference, though less notable than this, we find in the broad sharp contrast offered by the singular perfection of George Eliot's
