darkest hour a hearts of iron game text size

#Darkest hour a hearts of iron game text size Patch

Grandfather Booth was convinced the plantation had been spared just to demonstrate how special The Meadows was. No Yankee soldiers ground their heels into our fine wood floors or filled their sacks with our valuable antiques. Somehow, maybe because of its location deep enough off the road that passed by, The Meadows escaped the destruction and plunder so many southern plantations experienced during the Civil War. Our plantation estate was called The Meadows and no visitor, old or new, came up the long gravel driveway without remarking about the splendor of our home, for in those days Papa had an almost religious devotion to its upkeep. On summer days, the wisteria tumbled over the verandas and joined with the pink crepe myrtle bushes and the white-blossomed magnolias that surrounded the house. We had a long, wide, rolling front lawn that grew thick with clover and Bermuda grass and on which there were white marble fountains, small rock gardens, and decorative iron benches. Just like the regal men and women who pranced over the pages of the books in our library, we lived in a big, beautiful house with acres and acres of prime Virginia tobacco farmland and beautiful forests. Our older sister, Emily, never liked to be read to and chose instead to spend most of her time by herself We seemed to live just like the princes and princesses, the kings and queens in the fairy tales my mother loved to read to me and my younger sister, Eugenia, who would sit perfectly still, her eyes as wide and as filled with awe as mine, even though at two she was already quite sickly. When I was very young, I thought we were royalty. The wind didn't stop until I was married to a man didn't love, but when it did, I followed Henry's advice. 'Well, then you can go your own way, child.' 'What happens when the wind stops, Henry?' I just had to listen and learn, but I also liked to ask questions. The world around me seemed so pregnant with wisdom back then, knowledge and ideas, philosophy and superstition hovering in the shape of a shadow, the flight of chimney swallows, the color of caterpillars, the blood spots in chicken eggs. 'Remember to go with the wind, child,' he advised, 'so you don't ever break.' 'She told me a branch that don't bend in the wind, breaks.' He fixed his large, dark eyes on me, the eyebrows almost as white as his hair. I shook my head, my golden pigtails swinging around to slap me gently on the mouth.

'Well, my mammy once told me something about that branch. 'You see that branch there, bending in the wind, child?' he asked. One summer day when a storm had begun to build a layer of dark clouds on the horizon, he stopped and pointed to a thick oak tree in the east meadow.

I would sit with him on an old cedar log in front of the smokehouse while he carved me a small rabbit or a fox.

#Darkest hour a hearts of iron game text size Patch

His name was Henry Patton and he had hair so white it looked like a patch of snow. It wouldn't change until I was finally able to change it myself, following the philosophy an old black laborer at The Meadows told me when I was a little girl. Instead of a prince, I had a businessman who won me in a card game, and just like a chip that is tossed across the table, I was tossed from one world into another.īut that had always been my destiny, right from the day I was born. I've always thought of myself as a Cinderella who never had a prince come with a glass slipper to whisk her away to a wonderful life. Other novels, including some based on stories Virginia was able to complete before her death, will be published in the coming years and we hope they continue to mean as much to you as ever. Andrews great joy to know that it will be entertaining so many of you.

Just before she died we promised ourselves that we would find a way of creating additional stories based on her vision.īeginning with the final books in the Casteel series, we have been working closely with a carefully selected writer to expand upon her genius by creating new novels-like Dawn, Secrets of the Morning, Twilight's Child, Midnight Whispers, and now Darkest Hour-inspired by her wonderful storytelling talent.ĭarkest Hour is the eagerly awaited conclusion to the Cutler family series. Since her death many of you have written to us wondering whether there would continue to be new V.

Second only to the pride she took in her writing was the joy she took in reading the letters from readers who were so touched by her books. She was constantly developing ideas for new stories that would eventually become novels. Virginia was a unique and gifted storyteller who wrote feverishly each and every day. Her proudest moment came when she held in her hand the first printed copy of Flowers in the Attic. Those of us who knew and loved Virginia Andrews know that the most important things in her life were her novels.