an
end in itself, for in "The Fatal Secret" there is no hint of disguised
scandal, nor any appeal to the pruriency of degenerate readers.
Sensational in the extreme the story is, but nevertheless the progress
of the narrative is delayed while the sentiments of the heroine are
examined in the minutest detail. While better known romancers exploited
chiefly the strange and surprising adventures (other than amorous) of
their characters, or used the _voyage imaginaire_ for the purposes of
satire, Eliza Haywood and her female colleagues stimulated the popular
taste for romances of the heart. In trying to depict the working of
intense human passions they rendered a distinct service to the
development of English fiction.

The story of "The Mercenary Lover" (1726) involved, besides the ability
to body forth emotion, considerable power to show a gradual degradation
in the character of one of the heroines.

The avaricious Clitander gains the moiety of a fortune by marrying the
young, gay Miranda, but cannot rest without securing to himself the
portion of the elder sister as well. Althea's thoughtful and less
volatile nature has hitherto resisted the assaults of love, but her
insidious brother-in-law undermines her virtue by giving her wanton
books and tempting her with soft speeches until she yields to his
wishes. When he attempts to make her sign a deed of gift instead of a
will to provide for their child, she discovers his treachery and flees
to the country. By playing upon her tenderness he coaxes her back and
poisons her. Miranda is fully informed of her husband's villainy, but
contents herself with removing from the house. Thus Clitander loses not
only his sister-in-law's, but his wife's fortune as well, and is
completely unmanned by remorse and apprehension.

The contrast between the characters of the gay and thoughtless wife and
the pensive, pure-minded girl is skilfully managed, and the various
steps in the downward course of Althea's nature are exhibited in detail.
Like Anadea in "The Fatal Secret" she retires to her chamber not to
sleep, but to indulge in the freedom of her thoughts, which are poured
forth at length to let the reader into the secrets of her passion-ridden
bosom. To reveal character in action was beyond the limit of Eliza
Haywood's technique; and once the story is well under way, Althea
becomes as colorless as only a heroine of romance can be. But the
author's effort to differentiate the female charact