But this was not so. From the start Burne-Jones liked to place his work in creative tension with the surrounding masonry: the darkness around the image was like night embracing the day. This was true at Bradfield. At Lyndhurst the scheme was frustrated by Philip Webb s taste for grisaille. It returned, however, triumphantly, at Easthampstead and Allerton in 1875. And in the late work at Allerton it was cus- tomary The story of Burne-Jones s glass ends not with his second-to-last window, the Judgment at Birmingham, but with his last, the west window in the parish church at Hawarden in north Wales, erected in memory of W. E. Gladstone by his family in 1898 (fig. 21). Here, as at Bradfield so many years before, there is no margin around the individ- ual lights. The manger fills the window. The Virgin lies in a stiff, Byzantine pose, her body cut in two by a mullion. Angels float across the tracery as if they were outside. The composi- tion and the architectural frame clash more fiercely than ever. And out of the clash, out of the dark, comes the sense of Burne-Jones's imagery being suspended in light, as it had Figure 2i. Morris 8c Company. Stained-glass window, west end, Saint Deiniol's Church, Hawarden, Clwyd, 1897-98 been in all his windows of this kind. Medieval stained-glass makers believed that light comes from God; Burne-Jones's windows were perhaps designed in the shadow of that belief.