One Scottish Lass A Regency Time Travel Romance Novella

Chapter 7

Her breath caught.

If libraries died and went to Heaven, this is what it would look like. Dark, mahogany shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, neatly filled with books of all shapes and sizes. There were black-cloth Bibles, leather-bound histories, treatises on botany, and much more. A pair of dark leather chairs sat on either side of a gently crackling fire, and a pair of mahogany side tables finished the scene.

She stepped across the elegant oriental carpet to place her plate and cup on one of the tables, then began on the left hand side of the door. She ran her finger along the spines of the books on each shelf, marveling at the array of titles available. It must have cost a fortune to assemble this many books. She found Homer's Odyssey and Iliad, Plato's Laches, and then more recent works.

Her eyes lit up. There, before her, was a red leather-bound copy of Robert Burns's poetry.

She took the book reverentially from the shelf and brought it over to her chair. She turned open the first page and began to read.

Sorcha lost all notion of time, immersed in the words. One poem in particular caught at her, and she found herself re-reading the poem out loud.

Is there for honest Poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that;

The coward slave-we pass him by,

We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, an' a' that.

Our toils obscure an' a' that,

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,

Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;

A Man's a Man for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that;

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;

Tho' hundreds worship at his word,

He's but a coof for a' that:

For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that:

The man o' independent mind

He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's abon his might,

Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities an' a' that;

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,

Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,

(As come it will for a' that,)

That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,

Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,