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Kilmeny of the Orchard by Montgomery, L. M. (Lucy Maud), 1874-1942
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A word from our supporters: File extension 000 | This book has been put on-line as part of the BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the Celebration of Women Writers through the combined work of Elizabeth Morton and Mary Mark Ockerbloom. http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/ Reformatted by Ben Crowder KILMENY OF THE ORCHARDBy L. M. MONTGOMERY Author of "Anne's House of Dreams," "Rainbow Valley," "Rilla of Ingleside," etc. TO MY COUSIN Beatrice A. McIntyre THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; . . . . . . . . . . . . . Her seymar was the lily flower, And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; And her voice like the distant melodye That floats along the twilight sea." JAMES HOGG CONTENTSII. A Letter of Destiny III. The Master of Lindsay School IV. A Tea Table Conversation V. A Phantom of Delight VI. The Story of Kilmeny VII. A Rose of Womanhood VIII. At the Gate of Eden IX. The Straight Simplicity of Eve X. A Troubling of the Waters XI. A Lover and His Lass XII. A Prisoner of Love XIII. A Sweeter Woman Ne'er Drew Breath XIV. In Her Selfless Mood XV. An Old, Unhappy, Far-off Thing XVI. David Baker's Opinion XVII. A Broken Fetter XVIII. Neil Gordon Solves His Own Problem XIX. Victor from Vanquished Issues KILMENY OF THE ORCHARDCHAPTER I. THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTHThe sunshine of a day in early spring, honey pale and honey sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows of the co-eds' dressing-room. A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been blowing over the fields of memory instead of through dingy streets, was purring in the tree-tops and whipping the loose tendrils of the ivy network which covered the front of the main building. It was a wind that sang of many things, but what it sang to each listener was only what was in that listener's heart. To the college students who had just been capped and diplomad by "Old Charlie," the grave president of Queenslea, in the presence of an admiring throng of parents and sisters, sweethearts and friends, it sang, perchance, of glad hope and shining success and high achievement. It sang of the dreams of youth that may never be quite fulfilled, but are well worth the dreaming for all that. God help the man who has never known such dreams--who, as he leaves his alma mater, is not already rich in aerial castles, the proprietor of many a spacious estate in Spain. He has missed his birthright. |