Arrah Neil; or, Times of OldJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
Arrah Neil; or, Times of Old
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Nor did he much strive to conceal them, although there were, of
course, some things that he would not say; but whenever he saw that
she was deeply interested, and that mystery might create doubts
injurious to her peace, he was as frank and free as she was: sporting,
perhaps, a little with her curiosity, but always satisfying it in the
end. He did not, indeed, amuse himself or her, to use the words of a
sweet old song that one time cheered my infancy, by
Tales telling of loves long ago,
although she was curious to know whether the heart, the possession of
which she so much valued, had never been given to any but herself; and
indeed could hardly believe that, amongst all the scenes through which
he had passed, amongst the fair and beautiful with whom he had
mingled, and in all the varying events in which he had taken a part,
some one had not been found to love and be beloved, by one whom she
felt it difficult to imagine any woman could behold without feeling
the same sensation towards him that she experienced herself.
At first, indeed, she did not venture to question, but merely
suggested with playful smiles the confession which she strove to
extort. Then, when he spoke of beautiful scenes in other lands, or of
bright and happy moments in former days, she would laugh, and ask
whether there had not been some one near to give light to the light
and add sweet to the sweetness; and he would reply sportively, "Oh! a
multitude, dear Annie! I can assure you that in those days every woman
was fair to my young eyes, and every smiling jest was full of wit."
But when she pressed him closer still, and inquired whether, amongst
the many, there had not been one brighter than them all, who had found
means to eclipse the loveliness around and make herself the beloved,
the earl would draw her closer to him, and, gazing on the lids of her
downcast eyes, would answer, "Nay, Annie, but I must have your
confession first. Have you never loved before? Has no one, ere I knew
you, brushed off with a touch the bloom of that dear heart before it
was ripe for me?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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