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Updated: June 24, 2025
She bribed him to fresh effort with every carnal lure the pantry afforded, but invariably he failed at a point where the soul of the toper was going "down down DOWN into the bottomless depths of HELL!" Here he became pitiful in his ineffectiveness, and Clytie had at last to admit that he would never be the elocutionist Allan was.
He generally avoided Clytie; but one evening when she returned to the schoolhouse after something she had forgotten, and did not find it until the master walked home with her, I hear that he endeavored to make himself particularly agreeable, partly from the fact, I imagine, that his conduct was adding gall and bitterness to the already overcharged hearts of Clytemnestra's admirers.
The possibility of not getting to them, or of finding only one of them, began to fill his inner life quite as the sombre shadows filled and made a presence of themselves in the Front Room particularly of a Sabbath, when one must be uncommonly good because God seemed to take more notice than on week-days. During the week, indeed, Clytie often relaxed her austerity.
We thought her nose was cute though. Miss Grazie, our professor of ancient history, said my nose was of the most perfect Greek profile she had ever seen just like that on the features of Clytie, and with just as delicately formed nostrils. We set the funniest trap for her once.
Echo and Narcissus. Clytie. Hero and Leander Minos, king of Crete, made war upon Megara. Nisus was king of Megara, and Scylla was his daughter. The siege had now lasted six months, and the city still held out, for it was decreed by fate that it should not be taken so long as a certain purple lock, which glittered among the hair of King Nisus, remained on his head.
"You pray for him, too, Clytie you love him but it's nothing to talk of." But the alarm of Clytemnestra was not to be put down by this. "Oh, Mr. Delcher " a look of horror grew big in her eyes "You don't mean to say he's gone and joined the Universalists?" The old man shook his head. "And he ain't a Unitarian?"
"You look gay, too!" he evaded laughingly, as his arms lingered round her. Clytie was always a satisfactory person for a wife. "What's this pink stuff on your hair popcorn?" "Oh, goodness! Baby has been so bad, she has been throwing it round everywhere," she answered, running ahead of him upstairs to a room that presented a scene of brilliant disorder.
Here the caller's eyes had briefly shifted sidewise at the small listener, whereupon Clytie had urged him to run along and play like a good boy. He pondered at length that which he had overheard and then he went to Miss Alvira's wood-pile at the foot of her back stairs, reached by turning up the alley from Main Street. He split a large pile of kindling for her.
To Clytie he once said, of something for which he was about to ask her permission, "Oh, it must be awful, awful wicked because I want to do it very, very much! not like, going to church." Yet the ascetic life was not devoid of compensation particularly when Milo Barrus, the village atheist, was pointed out to him among the care-free Sabbath loafers.
A woman's love to the despairing suitor there was one and only one in this wide, wide world, and her words, burning their way into his heart, had made this temptation possible: "No drooping Clytie could be more constant than I to him who strikes the chord that is responsive in my soul."
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