She met Mr. Longfellow's eyes from across the long table. She noted again that he was a handsome man, yet now she could see the pain in his eyes and the shadows beneath them. For a moment she wanted to know the cause of his pain-and then she stopped. Her inability to bear her own misery had driven her to seek out dancing and music in which to pass the time. She could forget the troubles that nipped at her when the energy was high. Evenings like this, calm and conversational, were not nearly as distracting. But that was not Mr. Longfellow's fault, and she hated to know that she'd added to the difficulty he'd already experienced on this trip. Should she not be lifting the burdens of the people she met rather than adding to them? "I am sorry, Mr. Longfellow, for pressing you, and for the difficulties you have faced. I was out of place to be so direct, and I pray your forgiveness." She meant every word and hoped he would know it. "You owe me no apology, Miss Frances." For a moment the softness of his words held her like a cord, and she found she could not take her gaze from his. In some way she could not understand, she felt . . . seen as she had never been seen before. Excerpted from Forever and Forever: The Courtship of Henry Longfellow and Fanny Appleton by Josi S. Kilpack All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
