"Your plan of omitting a formal conclusion will never do!" The Dominie replies, "Really, madam, you must be aware that every volume of a narrative turns less and less interesting as the author draws to a conclusion,--just like your tea, which, though excellent hyson, is necessarily weaker and more insipid in the last cup." He compares the orthodox happy ending to "the luscious lump of half-dissolved sugar" usually found at the bottom of the cup.

This topic might be discussed, and indeed has been discussed, endlessly.

In our actual lives it is probable that most of us have found ourselves living for a year, or a month, or a week, in a chapter or half a volume of a novel, and these have been our least happy experiences.

But we have also found that the romance vanishes away like a ghost, dwindles out, closes with ragged ends, has no denouement.

Then the question presents itself, As art is imitation, should not novels, as a rule, close thus?
The experiment has frequently been tried, especially by the modern geniuses who do not conceal their belief that their art is altogether finer than Scott's, or, perhaps, than Shakspeare's.
In his practice, and in his Dominie's critical remarks, Sir Walter appears inclined to agree with them.