Love Will Triumph

They were were in the best parlour fine furnishing of Victorian period dotted all round the elaborate room yet a tension, an unease hangs in the air Hat in hand he stands before her father who hits the roof when he asks for her hand I won't accept any proposals from a scallywag how dare you, Sir even suggest such a thing His wife stands in front trying to calm him fearful he may fly at the ardent young man gently soothing things over as best as she can pointing out the good breeding, an Earl no less Their daughter mortified pretends she's not there so sad of heart as she hears her father ranting will he relent? All she wishes for, is to be wed despairing she shuts herself off and turns her back How does it all end? That is a moot question indeed will his wife talk him round? Will there be wedding bells? By the haughty stance and the icy cold glare from eyes full of fire it appears to me that its a cause lost before even began Yet where there is love there is also hope springing eternal a father never likes to pass the care of a daughter to another man pleas from her may soften his heart, while words of sense and wisdom from his wife who will not give in easily; so lets hope love triumphs written 08/23/2013 contest Charles Haigh Wood I have used the british spelling of parlour not parlor as I feel it gives better poetic sense