Forever and Forever (Historical Proper Romance) by Josi S. Kilpack Page A

answer,” he said, but she could tell he was thinking hard about the answer. “I do love German. Their literature is reflective of great depth and imagery. I have likely gained the most through my ability with that language, but perhaps the one I enjoy speaking the most is Italian. There is something lyrical about it, especially the Venetian dialect. A musical quality that quite renews my spirit.”
    “I enjoy listening to Italian. It is not so surprising that it is the language of the opera.”
    “Precisely,” he said, turning a bright smile toward her that made her breath catch. Just a little bit. And likely because he tended to be more subdued with his expressions. The openness of his face was unexpected. “The language sounds like a song even in speech, like a stream moving through grassy hills.”
    “But you did not visit Italy for this trip?” Fanny asked.
    His brow grew heavy, and Fanny regretted the reminder of how many ways this trip had not lived up to his expectations.
    “My focus was on Scandinavia,” he said after a few moments. “I’m afraid it did not allow for such a visit, though I very much wish it would have.”
    The sharp drop in his energy made her wish they could recapture the brighter mood. “Perhaps you will return again to see Italy, especially if you love it so very much.”
    “Perhaps,” he said, smiling again but in a way that seemed to say he did not expect such a thing. European tours were expensive—for him to have made a second one was likely beyond his expectations. The hope for a third must feel very vain.
    Fanny searched for a different topic. “And do you look forward to joining the faculty at Harvard College? Are you eager to teach again?”
    He seemed to ponder the question for some time. “I am hopeful that I will get to teach. ”
    Fanny looked at him. “Why would you not teach? Are you not to be a professor?”
    “Well, yes,” Mr. Longfellow said. “But I fear my idea of teaching is not always in keeping with that of the administration. Such was the case at Bowdoin College, but I am hopeful for greater latitude with Harvard.”
    “Latitude? I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Is not Harvard College the best education available in America? Why would you need more latitude ?”
    “I believe Harvard College is among the best our fine country has to offer,” Mr. Longfellow said. “But therein lies the problem. Measuring our educational opportunity against what we ourselves offer gives us a very narrow field for comparison. Our nation has done a great deal in establishing itself in a relatively short amount of time, but there is growth left to be had within our institutions of higher learning if we ever hope to offer anything near what Europe takes for granted. For example . . .”
    He went on to express his wish for his students to understand the roots of the languages they studied, learn where the adaptations came from, and appreciate the cultural influences in their literature and poetry. He described the current American education in language as lacking in depth, scope, and availability and talked about having written his own textbooks in an attempt to better teach his students—an effort that went all but unnoticed by the Bowdoin administration. Rather than seeing education as something for the wealthy, he felt all children should be educated for a minimum period of time, specifically focusing on literacy, and that higher education should be an option for all classes who should want it and for women.
    “You believe women should go to college as men do?” Fanny said, almost with a laugh. His ideas were not unheard of, but the other voices advocating the same idea were from extreme women who Fanny found to be crass and overly independent in their ways of thinking. Their assertions of being dominated by men did not settle well in Fanny’s Protestant heart. As though men and women should be the same, rather than fulfill their own God-given