What Will He Do with It?

In Short

This expansive Victorian novel follows the life of Guy Darrell, a man who has retreated into a self-imposed exile, nursing a wounded heart and a rigid, unyielding sense of honor. His life intersects with that of a young, innocent girl named Sophy and her protector, the elderly William Losely. Through a series of complex revelations, the story explores the weight of inheritance, the possibility of redemption through sacrifice, and the enduring power of human sympathy. It remains a classic study of the intersection between personal morality and the demands of high society.

The Story

Guy Darrell, a man of immense intellect and social standing, lives as a recluse in the ancestral home of Fawley. Haunted by the memory of a lost love, Caroline Montfort, and the betrayal of his own daughter, Darrell has allowed his pride to become his sole companion. He is a man who defines himself by his "kingliness of nature" and his ability to endure suffering without complaint, yet this very pride keeps him isolated and miserable. His life takes an unexpected turn when he is introduced to Sophy, a young woman living under the care of William Losely, a man who has seen better days.

While Darrell initially sees Sophy as a stranger to whom he owes only a distant, if virtuous, interest, the people around him—particularly his kinsman Lionel Haughton and his friend Colonel Alban Morley—are desperate to see him reintegrated into public life. They see in him a statesman whose influence could save the nation from a political "crisis." Meanwhile, the villainous Jasper Losely, William’s estranged son, looms as a threat, his past crimes casting a long shadow over the reputations of those Darrell cares for.

As the narrative progresses, the truth about Sophy’s parentage is uncovered. She is not the grandchild of William Losely, but the daughter of the poet Arthur Branthwaite. This revelation shifts the stakes for everyone involved. Darrell, who had previously been prepared to dismantle his ancestral estate and abandon his name to history, finds himself forced to confront his own hardened resolve.

The climax occurs as the various threads of the plot—the political maneuvering of the Vipont family, the decline of Jasper Losely, and the quiet, persistent love between Caroline and Darrell—converge. Through the intervention of those who see past his "citadel of pride," Darrell is finally moved to abandon his isolation. He realizes that his suffering, while real, has been a self-inflicted penance. In the end, the barrier between him and Caroline is dismantled, not by his own pride, but by the undeniable strength of their shared history and mutual affection. The novel concludes with the restoration of the house of Darrell, as the "Man and the Helpmate" emerge into the golden light of reconciliation, ready to face the future together.

How It Unfolds

The burden of memory Darrell lives in a house defined by its past, struggling with the "black horses" of memory and the persistent ghost of a failed marriage. He believes that his life is effectively over, preferring the cold comfort of his own resignation to the vulnerability of renewed hope.

The preacher’s intervention George Morley, a young theologian, attempts to reach Darrell by framing his suffering as a test of the soul rather than a mere failure of fortune. He argues that Darrell’s pride is a fortress that, while dignified, ultimately prevents him from finding true peace or purpose.

The discovery of truth The mystery of Sophy’s origin is systematically dismantled through documents and testimonies recovered by the determined Lady Montfort. These revelations clarify that Sophy is not a product of the disgrace associated with Jasper Losely, but the child of a noble and poetic lineage.

The collapse of the villain Jasper Losely, the man who once threatened the peace of the family, is reduced to a state of physical and moral decay. His downfall, witnessed by Lady Montfort and his caretaker Arabella, serves as the final evidence that his power to harm others has been permanently neutralized.

The return to the light Darrell finally sheds his "granite" exterior, acknowledging that his refusal of love was a form of cowardice rather than duty. The story ends with his return to the world and the healing of his relationship with Caroline, symbolizing a fresh start for his house and his heart.

The People

Guy Darrell is the protagonist, a man of immense stature whose life is a battle between his "haughty" pride and his capacity for deep, quiet love. His arc is one of gradual softening; he moves from a man who views himself as an architect of his own ruin to one who learns to accept the grace offered by others.

Sophy is the catalyst for this transformation. Her innocence and purity stand in sharp contrast to the cynicism surrounding her. She desires only to belong and to be shielded from the "taint of felony" that surrounds her guardian, William.

William Losely (Waife) is the humble protector, a man whose past is marked by mistakes but whose present is defined by selfless devotion. He wants nothing more than to see Sophy safe, and his presence acts as a bridge between the different social worlds of the book.

Caroline Montfort (Lady Montfort) is the woman who remains the center of Darrell’s universe. She is defined by her "sweet, earnest, affectionate nature," yet she possesses a fierce "pride of sex" that prevents her from chasing a man who has once rejected her. Her journey is one of patient endurance, ultimately leading to her reuniting with Darrell.

Colonel Alban Morley serves as the pragmatic, worldly counterpoint to Darrell’s romantic melancholy. He sees the "crisis" of politics and the "crisis" of Darrell’s heart as problems to be solved through social strategy and the persistent application of common sense.

In Its Own Voice

"A GOOD ARCHER IS NOT KNOWN BY HIS ARROWS, BUT HIS AIM."

This proverb, among others, is cited as a challenge to George Morley, who is attempting to influence the immovable Guy Darrell.

"He is writing a book," thought Darrell, enviously; "and a book on such a subject will last him all his life."

Darrell reflects on the purpose and longevity of George’s theological work, contrasting it with his own sense of sterile, finished life.

"It is not pride that speaks here; it is rather humility, Dick."

Darrell attempts to explain to his servant, Fairthorn, why he refuses to seek the hand of the woman he loves, masking his fear of vulnerability as a form of moral caution.

What It's Really About

At its core, this is a meditation on the destructive potential of pride. Darrell’s argument is that he is protecting those he loves by keeping them at a distance, yet the narrative suggests that this is merely a rationalization for his refusal to risk emotional injury. It explores the tension between duty—to one's ancestors, one's name, and one's country—and the personal desire for happiness. The book posits that true strength lies not in the ability to withstand sorrow in isolation, but in the willingness to acknowledge one's own limitations and accept the "kindness of Providence" when it arrives in the form of human connection. It questions whether a life lived entirely for one's principles can ever be truly fulfilling.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pacing of mid-19th-century literature will find much to admire here. The prose is elegant and often philosophical, demanding a patient reader willing to sit with the characters as they grapple with their inner lives. You will likely appreciate the nuance with which the author handles the "crisis" of the heart, treating personal emotions with the same gravity as political upheavals.

However, it is important to note the book’s age; the formal, occasionally dense structure and the Victorian preoccupation with genealogy and social station may feel distant to the modern reader. There are moments of high melodrama, particularly regarding the villainous Jasper Losely, which require an adjustment to the stylistic conventions of the era. Nevertheless, the central struggle of Guy Darrell—a man caught between the heavy, dark trees of his past and the potential for a new beginning—remains strikingly relatable. It is a book for those who value depth of characterization and are moved by the sight of a rigid, intellectual man finally allowing himself to be vulnerable. What stays with the reader is the image of the "citadel of pride" slowly crumbling, revealing the tender, human core that was always waiting to be set free.