This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1897 Excerpt: ...the winter, and was busy on his widowed mother's small farm in the summer; and try how you would, you could not fancy him in the aspect of a conquering hero. So she had kept Tom from speaking, and finally his mother had died, and he had sold the little farm, had gone away to that vague part of the world known in those ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1897 Excerpt: ...the winter, and was busy on his widowed mother's small farm in the summer; and try how you would, you could not fancy him in the aspect of a conquering hero. So she had kept Tom from speaking, and finally his mother had died, and he had sold the little farm, had gone away to that vague part of the world known in those days as " out West." What he had done there, or what had become of him, who knew? Not Eleanor, at any rate. She wondered if it were such keen torture to other women to feel that they had grown old. It seemed to her just then that youth was all--all. She had quaffed its wine, and now in the cup were dregs only. And then she sadly smiled. What wine had she ever quaffed, after all? People used to call her beautiful, --and surely she must have been at least pretty--but what good had it done her? The right suitor had never come. Of the few who seemed to care for her, she thought in this hour only of Tom. She remembered tones and looks, shy flowers shyly given, tender little cares for her comfort in small things. But in those old days her ambition soared far beyond Tom. Would it have been better had she cared for him? Would he have understood her? Would love have made that possible? For she felt now that her deepest longing had always been to be understood. Love that was given to the external Eleanor would never have been enough. She must meet some one who had the key to her deepest soul, else must she live and die more solitary than any monk of old in his hidden hermitage. Could it be that she had thrown away what might have been life's fullness of joy? Ah, well, it was of no use to wonder now. Tom was far away, and she was thirty years old. Just then she saw the old village postman coming slowly down the street. She threw up the window, a...
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Add this copy of Tales From McClure's: Romance to cart. $56.29, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2016 by Palala Press.
