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Asphodel

by Mary Elizabeth BRADDON (1835 - 1915)

XI. ' Yeve me my Deth, or that I have a Shame '

Like the Asphodel, a plant which grows far away from England, Daphne grows far away from home. In her first chance of freedom, at the age of almost 17, she finds an opportunity to forget for a while... Forget that her father, the renowned Sir Vernon Lawford, does not love her. To forget that, for some reason, nobody talks about her mother who traveled to the South of France and never returned. She can be a butcher's daughter from Oxford Street, she can control her friend's actions, she can fancy that she is in love with a man who does not even reveal his name. She returns home and faces the challenge of earning her father's love and carve a respectable place beside her beloved older half-sister. But what would she do when her past folly catch up with her? Would she find love and acceptance at last? - Summary by Stav Nisser.

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Listen next episodes of Asphodel:
XII. ' And to the Dinner faste they hem spedde ' , XIII ' After my Might ful fayne wold I you plese ' , XIV. ' Love is a Thing, as any Spirit, free ' , XIX. ' I deme that hire herte was ful of wo ' , XV. ' Not for your Linage, ne for your Richesse ' , XVI. ' No Man may alway have Prosperitee ' , XVII. ' And in my Herte wondren I began ' , XVIII. ' Love wol not be constreined by Maistrie ' , XX. ' Al sodenly she swapt adown to Ground ' , XXI. ' For Wele or Wo, for Carole, or for Daunce ' , XXII. ' For I wol gladly yelden hire my Place ' , XXIII. ' And COME agen, be it by Day or Night ' , XXIV. ' Ay fleth the Time, it wol no Man abide ' , XXIX. ' I meane well, by God that sit above ' , XXV. ' But I wot best wher wringeth me my Sho ' , XXVI. ' Forbid A Love and it is ten Times so wode ' , XXVII. ' I may not don as any ploughman may' , XXVIII. ' Love is not old, as whan that it is new ' , XXX. ' Ther was no Wight, to whom she durste plain ' , XXXI. ' I wolde live in Pees, if that I might ' , XXXII. ' For Love and not for Hate thou must be ded ' , XXXIII. ' Is there no Grace ? Is there no Remedie ?' , XXXIV. ' Sens Love hath brought us to this piteous End '