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Updated: May 17, 2025
She figured that pleasant young man lecturing in the most edifying way to his students, herself modestly prominent as his intellectual mate and helper; she figured a refined little home, with two bureaus, with white shelves of high-class books, and autotypes of the pictures of Rossetti and Burne Jones, with Morris's wall-papers and flowers in pots of beaten copper. Indeed she figured many things.
There next came an order from the upper regions to make Morris's nephew comfortable till Sunday morning, and to put him, at that time, on board the Peterborough boat for the return journey. The behest of Mr. Councillor was duly executed, and John Clare, on the following Sunday evening, after three days' absence, again walked into his father's cottage at Helpston, a happier and a wiser lad.
Peter had forced the architect into one of the big chairs by the fire by this time, and stood bending over him, his hands resting on Morris's broad shoulders. "Take the Major with you, that's a good fellow, and let me drop in about eleven o'clock," he pleaded, an expression on his face seen only when two men understand and love each other.
That man was destined to do something more than get on Cleggett's nerves before the adventures of the Jasper B. were ended. The isolated road house on the bay was a nondescript, jumbled, dilapidated-looking assemblage of structures, rather than one house. It was known simply as Morris's.
Society-Hall, General Morris's, 23d May, 1780. My patience is almost exhausted. I have been waiting for you this month past. Here I am, a pensioner upon the bounty of my good friend General Morris, and am likely to continue so, unless you are kind enough to come and carry me away. This is the fifth or sixth letter I have written you on the subject.
It was evident to him that the Annabel Lee and Morris's were suspicious of each other, and that both suspected the Jasper B. But of what did they suspect Cleggett? What intention did they impute to him? He could only wonder. Through the entire morning he was conscious of the continuance of this watch.
Morris had not produced any regular credentials, but merely a letter from the president directed to himself; that some delays had intervened, partly on account of Mr. Morris's absence on a trip to Holland, as was understood, and that it was not improbable these delays and some other circumstances may have impressed Mr. Morris with an idea of backwardness on the part of the British ministry.
"It is said not; it is suggested that after Morris's interview with her in the Dead Church for I gather there was an interview though nobody knows about it, and that's where they met she fell asleep, which sounds an odd thing to do in the midst of such a gale as was raging on Christmas Eve, and so was overwhelmed. But who can say?
William Morris's Helen, in the "Earthly Paradise," charms at the time of reading, but, perhaps, leaves little abiding memory. The Helen of "Troilus and Cressida" is not one of Shakespeare's immortal women, and Mr. Rossetti's ballad is fantastic and somewhat false in tone a romantic pastiche. Where Euripides twice failed, in the "Troades" and the "Helena," it can be given to few to succeed.
Morris with disgust that he could scarce bear to speak to him. "We will return at six," he said, at length, and leading Adrienne to the door that the painful interview might end. "At six," said Danton. They made their way out and found Mr. Morris's coach. In the carriage the courage which had sustained the young girl gave way. Mr. Morris laid a kindly hand upon her arm. "Be calm.
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