"My daughter may receive presents from the head of our house," says the lady, speaking up for her kinsman.

"My daughter may thankfully take kindness from her father's, her mother's, her brother's dearest friend." The whole scene is of the same nature, and is evidence of Thackeray's capacity for the sublime.

And again, when the same lady welcomes the same kinsman on his return from the wars, she rises as high.

But as I have already quoted a part of the passage in the chapter on this novel, I will not repeat it here.
It may perhaps be said of the sublime in novels,--which I have endeavoured to describe as not being generally of a high order,--that it is apt to become cold, stilted, and unsatisfactory.

What may be done by impossible castles among impossible mountains, peopled by impossible heroes and heroines, and fraught with impossible horrors, _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ have shown us.