The Return

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W. Collins Sons, 1922 - English fiction - 309 pages
Gripping and poignant tale of psychic possession concerns Arthur Lawford, who appears to have been possessed by the spirit of a long-dead 18th-century pirate. One of de la Mare's finest occult stories, the novel also deals with domestic trauma, unrequited love and philosophical reflection.
 

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Page 294 - REMEMBER now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them...
Page 201 - He saw with extraordinary vividness the low panelled room; the still listening face; the white muslin shoulders and dark hair; and the eyes that seemed to recall some far-off desolate longing for home and childhood.
Page 109 - But what house is that ? It is- the house where the poet in him was born, a tantalizing birthplace lost in obscurity, with doors opening from the back on ulterior paths leading away in the other direction, the direction of the mirror. ' Have you ever,' he said, ' seen that door? ... its ruinous stone lintel, carved into lichenous stone heads, stonily silent in the last thin sunlight, hanging in peace unlatched. Heated, hunted, In agony — in that cold, green-clad, shadowed porch is haven and sanctuary....
Page 238 - It was vacant in the sunlight, and the water vividly green with a scum of weed. And about half a mile beyond stood a cluster of cottages and an old towered church. He gazed idly down, listening vaguely to the wailing of a curlew flitting anxiously to and fro above the broken solitude of its green hill. And it seemed as if a thin and dark cloud began to be quietly withdrawn from over his eyes. Hill and wailing cry and barn and water faded out. And he was staring as if in an endless stillness at an...
Page 233 - Who was that poor, dark, homeless ghoul, Sabathier? Who was this Helen of an impossible dream? Her face with its strange smile, her eyes with their still pity and rapt courage had taken hope away. 'Here's not your rest,' cried one insistent voice; 'she is the mystery that haunts day and night, past all the changing of the restless hours. Chance has given you back eyes to see, a heart that can be broken. Chance and the stirrings of a long-gone life have torn down the veil age spins so thick and fast.
Page 137 - Hush, don't speak ! Come back; come back. I am with you, a friend, you see; come back.' Lawford clutched her hand as a blind man in sudden peril might clutch the hand of a child. He saw nothing clearly; spoke almost without understanding his words. 'Oh, but it's must,
Page 239 - she said, catching her brother's sleeve; 'that's Detcham, yes, Detcham.' Lawford turned wide vacant eyes on her. He shook his head and shuddered. 'No, no; not Detcham. I know it; I know it; but it has gone out of my mind. Not Detcham; I've been there before; don't look at me. Horrible, horrible. It takes me back — I can't think. I stood there, trying, trying; it's all in a blur. Don't ask me — • a dream.
Page 12 - ... are, whoever you may be, is it likely? I am not in the least afraid. I thought at first it was some silly practical joke. I thought that at first.' She paused, but no answer came. ' Well, I suppose in a civilised country there is a remedy even for a joke as wicked as that.
Page 135 - Lawford took a deep breath, gazing mutely, forlornly, into the lovely untroubled peace of her eyes, and without the least warning tears swept up into his own. With an immense effort he turned, and choking back every sound, beating back every thought, groped his way towards the square black darkness of the open door.

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