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Updated: May 22, 2025
His own expression was that he did not know how it was he did not do the child an injury. That is one of the things that interest me enormously. That power I spoke of must have been retained. Crashaw must have been blue with anger; he could hardly repeat the story to me, he was so agitated. It would have surprised me less if he had told me he had murdered the child.
I waited at the corner, keeping my eye on her all the time, and I took particular care to note the house at which she stopped. It was the house with the gay curtains, the home of flowers, the house out of which Crashaw came the night he hanged himself in his garden.
The Metaphysical School was in its direct results an abortive movement, though indirectly much came of it for Dryden came of it. But the movement was so abortive that few will thank us for connecting with it the name of Shelley. This is because to most people the Metaphysical School means Donne, whereas it ought to mean Crashaw.
But when he joined his fellow-children, Challis stood at the window of the morning-room, attending little to the buzz of voices and the clatter of glasses which marked the relief from the restraint of the examination-room. Even the stenographer was talking; he had joined Crashaw and Purvis a lemonade group; the other three were drinking whisky.
Crashaw phrased his description of Victor Stott in terms other than those he used in speaking to his wife or to his parishioners; but the undercurrent of his virulent superstition did not escape Challis, and the attitude of the villagers was made perfectly plain. "Hm!" was Challis's comment, when the flow of words ceased, "nigroque simillima cygno, eh?"
For a time she was so sleepy that she nodded on her chair, and the green lamp swelled and quivered and the very bed seemed to sway in the dark, but soon the cold air cleared her head, and she was wide awake, staring before her at the grey window-panes. Her aunt did not for a long time speak again. Maggie sat there her mind a maze of the Chapel, old Crashaw, Miss Avies, and Martin.
Beaumont's house at two o'clock in the morning? Surely, surely, you must have been dreaming, Villiers; you were always rather fanciful." "No; I was wide awake enough. Even if I had been dreaming as you say, what I saw would have roused me effectually." "What you saw? What did you see? Was there anything strange about Crashaw? But I can't believe it; it is impossible."
Nevertheless, without frailty, without defection, what could chance have done? She began to perceive that this that she was living through was life. She bit her lips. Grief! Shame! Disillusion! Hardship! Peril! Catastrophe! Exile! Above all, exile! These had to be faced, and they would be faced. She recalled the firiest verse of Crashaw and she set her shoulders back.
Julian began to con verses in his head, and he recalled the lines of seventeeth-century Eichard Crashaw: "A Face that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone command the rest." And he caught himself wondering why, whenever he came near the Lady of the Manor, he was anxious to seem less artificial, less affected, and more of a man than his particular 'Omar Kayyam' set had taught him to be.
He replied that he did not know the word 'catechism. I may mention that he speaks the dialect of the common people, but he has a much larger vocabulary. His mother has taught him to read, it appears." "He seems to have a curiously apt intelligence," interpolated Challis. Crashaw wrung his clasped hands and put the comment on one side.
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