Described as an 1869 horror classic, it lacks the suspense of a Bram Stoker novel, or Walpoles Otranto. The plot unfolds slowly: more akin to Jane Austins gothic works. The initial specter, a falling black curtain, is reminiscent of Radcliffes Udolpho. Once again we have a pretty, young, orphaned heroine who is brought up by a foul, evil relative (in this case an uncle). To escape his intent to marry her, she elopes with his eldest sonhimself somewhat of a rake and gambler who has numerous unnamed enemies. It makes one wonder that so many 19th century protagonists are orphans. Further that they are reared by tyrannical kinfolk who, by the way, seem to have little use for their own offspring: said offspring usually being prodigal. Well, our male protagonist, having got his principal arch enemy (supposedly also his wife) cornered for the attempted murder of his young bride, he set out to free her from the clutches of the law. It seems that he would rather beat the tar out of the constable who made the arrest than to do her harm. Why do authors and screenwriters have no other plot twist that to have their goody two shoes protagonists constantly turn the other cheek? Why not dispatch the villain then s/he has been treed and let a new villain surface? Certainly, any worthwhile protagonist must have a host of enemies. Oops, is this event bringing about an attack of brain fever for our hero? All heroes seen to get it when under stress. Its their Archilles heel so to speak. No matter! They always recover completely. Its nothing that a swill of wine, quaff of port, or swig of brandy wont cure. Whats this? Our hero succumbs! No way, I say! Way, the response! I read on looking for something redeeming in this purportedly gothic novel. I dont find it! Anyway our author manages to kill off most of his principal characters before bringing us to a terse, but convoluted, denouement. Why is he being rediscovered? There is merely one four-letter word with which I can describe this book. It is DULL!

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