Author: | Sheela Word | ISBN: | 9781301559886 |
Publisher: | Sheela Word | Publication: | March 14, 2013 |
Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
Author: | Sheela Word |
ISBN: | 9781301559886 |
Publisher: | Sheela Word |
Publication: | March 14, 2013 |
Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
Language: | English |
"Yet sages sometimes erred, and fools sometimes were wise!" Helena is betrothed to Prince Tristram, whom she has long admired. Tristram is constantly engaged in good works. How different he is from his boorish friend, Captain Swan! 'Tis odd that Helena feels so restless and oppressed. (Short story, 8,830 words)
Excerpt:
"I do little that is truly meritorious. I am naught but a frivolous, unschooled maiden, full of faults. And yet I think that in Verimot, my life could become a worthy thing. Queen Bianca and her son are truly noble. From them I shall learn all manner of arts and skills to better the conditions of others..."
Prince Tristram had sent a portrait with his letter. 'Twas a miniature, done in watercolors. During her long voyage, Helena oft removed it from its casket and gazed at it. "'Tis not well-painted," she told herself. "But methinks 'twill prove a passable likeness of the Prince." He was handsome, with his dark, curling hair, his noble brow, and his deep-set brown eyes; and she had heard that he was tall. Though this was of no import. The inner man was all.
"Yet sages sometimes erred, and fools sometimes were wise!" Helena is betrothed to Prince Tristram, whom she has long admired. Tristram is constantly engaged in good works. How different he is from his boorish friend, Captain Swan! 'Tis odd that Helena feels so restless and oppressed. (Short story, 8,830 words)
Excerpt:
"I do little that is truly meritorious. I am naught but a frivolous, unschooled maiden, full of faults. And yet I think that in Verimot, my life could become a worthy thing. Queen Bianca and her son are truly noble. From them I shall learn all manner of arts and skills to better the conditions of others..."
Prince Tristram had sent a portrait with his letter. 'Twas a miniature, done in watercolors. During her long voyage, Helena oft removed it from its casket and gazed at it. "'Tis not well-painted," she told herself. "But methinks 'twill prove a passable likeness of the Prince." He was handsome, with his dark, curling hair, his noble brow, and his deep-set brown eyes; and she had heard that he was tall. Though this was of no import. The inner man was all.