Miss Crespigny — Reading Notes

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In Category - Romantic Drama
Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924 Project Gutenberg 2018 Not confirmed
American fiction -- 19th century; Love stories; Romance fiction, American Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

Edition facts

Words 41,602
Reading time 181 min
Text sections 6

The source record for Miss Crespigny — Reading Notes measures this digital text at 41,602 words, 3 hr 1 min estimated reading time, and 6 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 15.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “American fiction -- 19th century,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

In this 1879 romance, Burnett's heroine Lisbeth Crespigny confesses to ruining a man's life, yet the excerpts reveal a self-aware narrator who dissects her own coldness and coquetry, complicating the simple love story suggested by catalog subjects.
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Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated
  • Description quality20 pts
  • Title & short description10 pts
  • Source metadata20 pts
  • Text length15 pts
  • Chapters / structure15 pts
  • EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

Read the Text

CHAPTER II. ANOTHER GENTLEMAN OF THE SAME NAME 17

CHAPTER III. PANSIES FOR THOUGHT 27

CHAPTER IV. A LUNCH PARTY 40

CHAPTER V. GEORGIE ESMOND 52

CHAPTER VI. A SONG 61

CHAPTER VII. A NEW EXPERIENCE 70

CHAPTER VIII. I WILL TELL YOU THE TRUTH FOR ONCE 80

CHAPTER IX. WE MUST ALWAYS BE TRUE 88

CHAPTER X. PEN’YLLAN 96

CHAPTER XI. A CONFESSION 104

CHAPTER XII. A VISITOR 114

CHAPTER XIII. A GHOST 123

CHAPTER XIV. IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN VERY SWEET 132

CHAPTER XV. WE WON’T GO YET 141

CHAPTER XVI. YES--TO LISBETH 148

CHAPTER XVII. GOOD-BY 158

CHAPTER XVIII. YOU THINK I HAVE A SECRET 171

CHAPTER XIX. AND THAT WAS THE END OF IT 181

“Another party?” said Mrs. Despard.

“Oh yes!” said Lisbeth. “And, of course, a little music, and then a little supper, and a little dancing, and all that sort of thing.” And she frowned impatiently.

Mrs. Despard looked at her in some displeasure.

“You are in one of your humors, again, Lisbeth,” she said, sharply.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” answered Miss Crespigny, not a whit awed by her patroness. “People’s humors are their privileges. I would not help mine if I could. I like them because they are my own private property, and no one else can claim them.”

“I should hardly think any one would want to claim yours,” said Mrs. Despard, dryly, but at the same time regarding the girl with a sort of curiosity.

Lisbeth Crespigny shrugged her shoulders--those expressive shoulders of hers. A “peculiar girl,” even the mildest of people called her, and as to her enemies, what did they not say of her? And her enemies were not in the minority. But “peculiar” was not an unnatural term to apply to her. She was “peculiar.” Seeing her kneeling close before the fender this winter evening, one’s first thought would have been that she stood apart from other girls. Her very type was her own, and no one had ever been heard to say of any other woman, “she is like Lisbeth Crespigny.” She was rather small of figure, she had magnificent hair; her black brows and lashes were a wonder of beauty; her eyes were dark, mysterious, supercilious. She often frightened people. She frightened modest people with her nerve and coolness, bold people with her savage sarcasms, quiet people with her moods. She had alarmed Mrs. Despard, occasionally, when she had first come to live with her; but after three years, Mrs. Despard, who was strong of nerve herself, had become used to her caprices, though she had not got over being curious and interested in spite of herself.

She was a widow, this Mrs. Despard. She had been an ambitious nobody in her youth, and having had the luck to marry a reasonably rich man, her ambition had increased with her good fortune. She was keen, like Lisbeth, quick-witted and restless. She had no children, no cares, and thus having no particular object in life, formed one for herself in making herself pleasingly conspicuous in society.

It was her whim to be conspicuous; not in a vulgar way, however; she was far too clever for that. She wished to have a little social court of her own, and to reign supreme in it. It was not rich people she wanted at her entertainments, nor powerful people; it was talented people--people, shall it be said, who would admire her æsthetic _soirées_, and talk about her a little afterward, and feel the distinction of being invited to her house. And it was because Lisbeth Crespigny was “peculiar” that she had picked her up.

From its first lines, Miss Crespigny announces a heroine who claims her moods as “my own private property.” Lisbeth Crespigny is introduced in a state of impatience, frowning at the prospect of yet another party. The catalog subjects label this a love story, but the excerpts show a narrative more interested in the psychology of a woman who describes herself as “born old” and “cold and hard.” Burnett’s prose, revised for this 1879 edition, gives Lisbeth a voice that is caustic and self-aware, not merely romantic.

A Confession, Not a Courtship

The central excerpt is a long confession, not a courtship scene. Lisbeth tells Georgie Esmond that she “ruined his life for him” by breaking a man’s faith. She recounts her own girlhood as “selfish, callous, shallow, and deep, at once.” The narrative dwells on her cruelty and the victim’s “honest, boyish” sincerity. This is not a typical romance; it is a retrospective dissection of a failed relationship. The confession is framed as a release: “she must tell the truth this once.” Burnett uses the seaside setting of Pen’yllan as a catalyst for this emotional unburdening, but the focus remains on Lisbeth’s internal reckoning.

Voice and Self-Perception

Lisbeth’s voice is distinctive: defiant, analytical, and unsparing. She says, “I never was young in my life. I was born old.” She describes herself as “a half-ripe coquette” who was “far too ripe for her age.” The narrative does not soften her; it lets her speak in her “coolest, most daring way.” This self-awareness complicates the catalog subject of “Romance fiction, American.” The story is less about falling in love than about understanding one’s own capacity for harm. Georgie’s response—pale but not “horror-stricken”—suggests a moral counterpoint, but Lisbeth’s voice dominates the excerpt.

Structure and the Incomplete Story

The excerpts cover only the beginning and a middle chapter. The opening shows Lisbeth in a social setting, frowning; the later scene is a confession on a rocky shore. The table of contents hints at further developments: chapters titled “A Ghost,” “A Visitor,” and “And That Was the End of It.” But the excerpts do not reveal the outcome. The narrative structure appears to be a frame: Lisbeth tells her past to Georgie. The catalog subjects imply a love story, but the evidence suggests a psychological study of remorse. Readers should note that the confession is incomplete—the excerpts cut off before Georgie’s reply.

Burnett’s author’s note explains that these stories first appeared in Peterson’s Ladies’ Magazine and were revised for this edition. The excerpts show a writer more interested in character than plot. Readers should approach Miss Crespigny as a character study in guilt and self-knowledge, not a conventional romance. The catalog subjects may mislead; the evidence points to a darker, more introspective work.

There are moments in Miss Crespigny where Lisbeth’s own honesty stings more than her coldness, and I found myself setting the book down, thinking about how rarely we admit such things aloud. That quiet weight of untold stories lingered when I later picked up Love Stories — Story, Setting & Ideas, almost as if the same half-lit room were waiting there too.

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