Old Love Letters: A Comedy in One Act

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Samuel French, 1897 - 24 pages
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Page 7 - THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall,' And the day is dark and dreary.
Page 20 - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Page 9 - They sin who tell us Love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth ; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth...
Page 20 - My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary.
Page 23 - He loof(s across at her, sternly; puts down letters on the table with some emphasis; rises; walks upstage; loof,s out of window, LU corner; turns back; pauses and looks up at portrait, up R. He returns to his seat, sits, looks across at her, sternly; turns away and folds his arms, assuming a rigid attitude and a stern expression. Mrs. Brownlee checks her laughter and regards him with an amused loof,] Go on, pray, go on, Mr.
Page 17 - ... rises in a stately way; looks down at him with great dignity and with suppressed indignation. She turns and walks to the mantel; glances back at him; then looks down into the fire, tips of her toes resting on the fender. He proceeds, still looking front, and with the same low, complacent laugh] Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! I remember what desperate efforts I made to explain to you how entirely you misunderstood the real situation. [She taps the fender with her foot and looks bacf, at him over her shoulder,...
Page 17 - ... diplomatist? WARB. A — memory ? MRS. B. A memory. If such a faculty is ever demanded in diplomatic life — I — you will pardon my frankness — but — I — I really wonder at your success. WARB. [Pleasantly] I do not understand you. MRS. B. On second thought, I am wrong. The art of forgetting with accuracy requires an excellent memory. WARB. Really, madam — I — MRS. B. You were speaking of a — a certain — misunderstanding — in which you and I were concerned — about thirteen...
Page 8 - It was just such a day as this — thirteen years ago. Edward and I — we — parted for the last time — in this very room. People have called me frivolous. I am — what can a woman be? What must a woman be? I have never lived my own life. I have done the best I could in a life that should have been lived by another woman. My own life — he was a part of it. I have not lived at all since then! [She leans listlessly on the piano a second; rises, moves to the table and stands fumbling through...
Page 23 - Certainly. [Returns to letter] "The skies — melodies of nature — golden promises." Ah — Here it is: "Life seems brighter to me, et cetera — since you gave me the tender assurance, last evening, that you would be mine — all mine — mine only — mine to love and to cherish — forever.
Page 21 - ... lingered over each so long it took me all the morning. MRS. B. It was noon before I finally had the ribbon on your packet. WARB. I failed to send them to you; somehow, I could not find it in my heart to part with them at that time; some foolish, longing fancy. How curiously our feelings alter with time! All such fancies, of course, have passed away long ago — and we — we can now exchange these same letters — face to face — without the slightest emotion on either side. Permit me, madam....

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