A perfectly serviceable novella, my first Gaskell. The late 19th century setting and general vibes of the story are not necessarily my cup of tea, but I appreciate this is a product of its time, a time in which relationships were not openly spoken of and women often suffered for love, due to inconsistent lovers. It’s a short and effective story, depicting poor Phyllis as a remarkable young Victorian woman, all proper and impressive for her time, though no Cathy Earnshaw or Jane Eyre even. It also funny enough reminded me a lot of a novel I also read recently, Eugenie Grandet by Balzac, which also talks about cousins and ill fated romances. Quite interesting that two such stories would emerge in two different countries at around the same time, and with a similar name, but it really goes to show they were both depicting a very course of events.