Fans of Eloisa James & Julia Quinn discussion
Monday Puzzler
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May 28,2018 woops I forgot
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This one doesn't look familiar to me.
The book and author are:Belle (The Daughters of Allamont Hall) by Mary Kingswood
“That is very true, “she said. “Wine is a leisurely drink, to be combined
with good food and good conversation.”
“And expensive,” he said, smiling. “Now, here is a profound thought.” He
went back to reading from the book.
‘” We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed as in
filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which make it run over;
so, in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run
over.”’
She said nothing, taking a handful of books from the crate and settling on
the floor with them. He thought he must have offended her, but then he
saw from her face that she was struggling with some deep emotion and
was close to tears. He had never seen her distressed and it tore at his
heart to be unable to offer comfort, not even a few words.
Was it the talk of friendship that upset her? He wanted so badly for them
to be friends. The could never be anything more to each other, he
accepted that but surely, they would always enjoy the comfort of this
easy comradeship? It would grieve him beyond measure to lose that
entirely and be nothing but stranger when they met.
For a while they read in silence, the only sounds the hissing of the fire,
and Eliza’s broom clacking in the hall outside, the door wide open.
Heroine reached for another book.
“Oh, here is something interesting,” she said. “’Poems, chiefly in the Scots
dialect’. I have never ready anything in the Scots dialect before. The
words are very strange, and yet I can understand most of it. Oh, this one
is very pretty! Listen to this.” She began to read, stumbling over or two of
the odd words.
“’Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas, forever!
Deep in in hear-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee
Who shall say that. Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.”’
“That is very moving is it not?” she went on. “I do not understand it all,
but it seems very mournful. ‘Dark despair around benights me.’ That is so
sad.”
“It is very affecting, “he said, sliding down to sit beside her on the floor,
and reading over her shoulder.
“Look, the poet gives her name---Nancy,” she said. “There it is, in the next
verse. So many poems of the nature are overwrought, but there is a
simplicity and truth to this one that I like very much. Will you read the
rest? It is better suited to your voice, I believe.”
He took the book from her and read on.
“’I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
‘But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov’s sae blindly,
Never met-or never parted,
We had ne’er been broken-hearted.”’
He paused, as the words wove themselves round him, wrapping him in warm affection. ‘Love but her, and love for ever.’ His heart tightened with the truth of it. Heroine said nothing, her face up-turned, mesmerized by the beauty of the poem. With an effort, he read on.
“’ Fare-thee-weel, though first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee”’
Heroine gazed at him, rapt. “Oh, that was so beautiful!” she breathed.
Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted, and her cheeks flushed.
He was dizzy with her nearness, overflowing with grief and joy and love,
all at once. The words of the poems coiled around him like smoke,
insubstantial and ephemeral, yet striking at his very heart and soul.
Without any conscious thought, his hand cupped her cheek, he learned
forward and kissed her full on the lips.