Richard Armitage Anonymous(1001 Posts)
Hello! (And I was just about to suggest that we should relocate to Culture Vultures, better to continue our discussions of Beauty, Art and the Thespian Muse).
I hope the other RA stalkers appreciators will be able to find us. Perhaps Lucas will give them a call and tell them on his secret spyphone
Does he speak Latin and recite whispered-panted poetry while serenading us on his cello before whisking us off our feet for an argentine tango? All while dressed in leather trousers with loosened cravat and floppy White shirt?!
Just a little something to celebrate our new 'home'!
www.google.co.uk/m/search?q=richard+armitage&aq=f& oq=&aqi=p2g4-k0d0t0&fkt=3115&fsdt=26155&mshr=&csll =&action=&site=images&gl=uk&source=mog<oken=2b9f 3cf4#i=12
Hmm. I suspect that at the rate at which we keep posting, this thread will spend half the day in Active Convos.
Aahh mrsLN. That looks beautiful over the fireplace!
Simply easier for him to just stand there and give us The Look, Fettle.
Talking of speaking Latin, do you think he'd look good in a legionary's costume? Some swanky rank though with the nice plume on his helmet and a bit of a swirly cloak.
''Hmm. I suspect that at the rate at which we keep posting, this thread will spend half the day in Active Convos''
I don't think it'll end up in the Roundup, howsumever
Swoon. That look!! I've grown so attached to that look!! Swoon swoon
Why ever not theresahole? Tis very informative and learned this thread. I've certainly been very well educated by you fine ladies!!
"I don't think it'll end up in the Roundup, howsumever"
Mercy. What if it did?
<<would have to deregister and emigrate>>
Quick. Someone bung in an Emily Dickinson quotation.
I must go sleeping dreaming now but I'll have a think about the legionnaire costume. I feel he'll look good in anything (although I am worrying about the middle earth look)
Don't forget the clock change - I nearly did!!!
Can't think of one but here's a Latin tag he might find useful
Noli me tangere
Sorry, that might be difficult
Goodnight Fettle. thanks for saving the thread
My, my, things have progressed here. I see we have a permanent home.
Vultus tergum procul mihi
Sweet dreams ladies!
I had begun to get quite worried as the last thread went over the 900 mark, Mrs RA
You can bet on it, Mrs LN
Shame you can't buy them, like DVDs, though and just have to rely on luck
Ladies. I present tonight's bedtime story. I can't do a vid, so you might like to gaze at this first. Now read on .......
'Miss Hale, I was very ungrateful yesterday--'
'You had nothing to be grateful for,' said she, raising her eyes, and looking full and straight at him. 'You mean, I suppose, that you believe you ought to thank me for what I did.' In spite of herself--in defiance of her anger--the thick blushes came all over her face, and burnt into her very eyes; which fell not nevertheless from their grave and steady look. 'It was only a natural instinct; any woman would have done just the same. We all feel the sanctity of our sex as a high privilege when we see danger. I ought rather,' said she, hastily, 'to apologise to you, for having said thoughtless words which sent you down into the danger.'
'It was not your words; it was the truth they conveyed, pun-gently as it was expressed. But you shall not drive me off upon that, and so escape the expression of my deep gratitude, my--' he was on the verge now; he would not speak in the haste of his hot passion; he would weigh each word. He would; and his will was triumphant. He stopped in mid career.
'I do not try to escape from anything,' said she. 'I simply say, that you owe me no gratitude; and I may add, that any expression of it will be painful to me, because I do not feel that I deserve it. Still, if it will relieve you from even a fancied obligation, speak on.'
'I do not want to be relieved from any obligation,' said he, goaded by her calm manner. Fancied, or not fancied--I question not myself to know which--I choose to believe that I owe my very life to you-- ay --smile, and think it an exaggeration if you will. I believe it, because it adds a value to that life to think--oh, Miss Hale!' continued he, lowering his voice to such a tender intensity of passion that she shivered and trembled before him, 'to think circumstance so wrought, that whenever I exult in existence henceforward, I may say to myself, "All this gladness in life, all honest pride in doing my work in the world, all this keen sense of being, I owe to her!" And it doubles the gladness it makes the pride glow, it sharpens the sense of existence till I hardly know if it is pain or pleasure, to think that I owe it to one--nay, you must, you shall hear'--said he, stepping forwards with stern determination--'to one whom I love, as I do not believe man ever loved woman before.' He held her hand tight in his. He panted as he listened for what should come. He threw the hand away with indignation, as he heard her icy tone; for icy it was, though the words came faltering out, as if she knew not where to find them.
'Your way of speaking shocks me. It is blasphemous. I cannot help it, if that is my first feeling. It might not be so, I dare say, if I understood the kind of feeling you describe. I do not want to vex you; and besides, we must speak gently, for mamma is asleep; but your whole manner offends me--'
'How!' exclaimed he. 'Offends you! I am indeed most unfortunate.'
'Yes!' said she, with recovered dignity. 'I do feel offended; and, I think, justly. You seem to fancy that my conduct of yesterday'--again the deep carnation blush, but this time with eyes kindling with indignation rather than shame--'was a personal act between you and me; and that you may come and thank me for it, instead of perceiving, as a gentleman would--yes! A gentleman,' she repeated, in allusion to their former conversation about that word, 'that any woman, worthy of the name of woman, would come forward to shield, with her reverenced helplessness, a man in danger from the violence of numbers.'
'And the gentleman thus rescued is forbidden the relief of thanks!' he broke in contemptuously. 'I am a man. I claim the right of expressing my feelings.'
'And I yielded to the right; simply saying that you gave me pain by insisting upon it,' she replied, proudly. 'But you seem to have imagined, that I was not merely guided by womanly instinct, but'--and here the passionate tears (kept down for long--struggled with vehemently) came up into her eyes, and choked her voice--'but that I was prompted by some particular feeling for you--you! Why, there was not a man--not a poor desperate man in all that crowd--for whom I had not more sympathy--for whom I should not have done what little I could more heartily.'
'You may speak on, Miss Hale. I am aware of all these misplaced sympathies of yours. I now believe that it was only your innate sense of oppression--(yes; I, though a master, may be oppressed)--that made you act so nobly as you did. I know you despise me; allow me to say, it is because you do not understand me.'
'I do not care to understand,' she replied, taking hold of the table to steady herself; for she thought him cruel--as, indeed, he was--and she was weak with her indignation.
'No, I see you do not. You are unfair and unjust.
Margaret compressed her lips. She would not speak in answer to such accusations. But, for all that--for all his savage words, he could have thrown himself at her feet, and kissed the hem of her wounded pride fell hot and fast. He waited awhile, longing for garment. She did not speak; she did not move. The tears of her to say something, even a taunt, to which he might reply. But she was silent. He took up his hat.
'One word more. You look as if you thought it tainted you to be loved by me. You cannot avoid it. Nay, I, if I would, cannot cleanse you from it. But I would not, if I could. I have never loved any woman before: my life has been too busy, my thoughts too much absorbed with other things. Now I love, and will love. But do not be afraid of too much expression on my part.'
'I am not afraid,' she replied, lifting herself straight up. 'No one yet has ever dared to be impertinent to me, and no one ever shall. But, Mr. Thornton, you have been very kind to my father,' said she, changing her whole tone and bearing to a most womanly softness. 'Don't let us go on making each other angry. Pray don't!' He took no notice of her words: he occupied himself in smoothing the nap of his hat with his coat-sleeve, for half a minute or so; and then, rejecting her offered hand, and making as if he did not see her grave look of regret, he turned abruptly away, and left the room. Margaret caught one glance at his face before he went.
When he was gone, she thought she had seen the gleam of washed tears in his eyes; and that turned her proud dislike into something different and kinder, if nearly as painful--self-reproach for having caused such mortification to any one.
'But how could I help it?' asked she of herself. 'I never liked him. I was civil; but I took no trouble to conceal my indifference. Indeed, I never thought about myself or him, so my manners must have shown the truth. All that yesterday, he might mistake. But that is his fault, not mine. I would do it again, if need were, though it does lead me into all this shame and trouble.'
Why anonymous? it's nothing to be embarassed about
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