Where is my head? I sat in front of my computer yesterday afternoon with a To Do list in front of me that included, "Post Book Beginnings." But I walked away and forgot to come back. Too much on my mind, apparently! Some weeks are like that.
Thank you for joining me for this late edition of Book Beginnings on Fridays. Please share the opening sentence or so from the book you are reading this week, or from a book that caught your fancy.
MY BOOK BEGINNINGS
You must go back with me to the autumn of 1827.
My father, as you know, was a sort of gentleman farmer in ——shire; and I, by his express desire, succeeded him in the same quiet occupation, not very willingly, for ambition urged me to higher aims, and self-conceit assured me that, in disregarding its voice, I was burying my talent in the earth, and hiding my light under a bushel.
“I should be proud to do it, Helen!—most happy—delighted beyond expression!—and if that be all the obstacle to our union, it is demolished, and you must—you shall be mine!”
And starting from my seat in a frenzy of ardour, I seized her hand and would have pressed it to my lips, but she as suddenly caught it away, exclaiming in the bitterness of intense affliction,—“No, no, it is not all!”