| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Beauty and The Beast by Bayard Taylor: the boundless promise of life; but she stood there, defenceless,
save in her holy truth and trust, and his heart bowed down and gave
her reverence.
"Asenath," said he, at last, "I never dared to hope for this. God
bless you for those words! Can you trust me?--can you indeed love
me?"
"I can trust thee,--I DO love thee!"
They clasped each other's hands in one long, clinging pressure. No
kiss was given, but side by side they walked slowly up the dewy
meadows, in happy and hallowed silence. Asenath's face became
troubled as the old farmhouse appeared through the trees.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from A Legend of Montrose by Walter Scott: women and children, by whom Ranald MacEagh was received with such
transports of joy, as made his companion easily sensible that
those by whom he was surrounded, must of course be Children of
the Mist. The place which they occupied well suited their name
and habits. It was a beetling crag, round which winded a very
narrow and broken footpath, commanded in various places by the
position which they held.
Ranald spoke anxiously and hastily to the children of his tribe,
and the men came one by one to shake hands with Dalgetty, while
the women, clamorous in their gratitude, pressed round to kiss
even the hem of his garment. "They plight their faith to you,"
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Margret Howth: A Story of To-day by Rebecca Harding Davis: tears. It was so strange a joy to find herself cared for, when
she had believed she was old and hard: the very idle jesting made
her youth and happiness real to her. Holmes saw that with his
quick tact. He flung playfully a crimson shawl that lay there
about her white neck.
"My wife must suffer her life to flush out in gleams of colour
and light: her cheeks must hint at a glow within, as yours do
now. I will have no hard angles, no pallor, no uncertain memory
of pain in her life: it shall be perpetual summer."
He loosened her hair, and it rolled down about the bright,
tearful face, shining in the red fire-light like a mist of tawny
Margret Howth: A Story of To-day |
