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English
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No longer the inspirer, she was yet, she bitterly told herself, honoured among women as a critic. Her heart might bleed, and her eyes fill with tears, as he read; but then, as he would say, the Beauty, the Music! Is it Beautiful? Is it Music? NO LONGER THE INSPIRER SHE WAS YET SHE BITTERLY TOLD HERSELF HONORED AMONG WOMEN AS A CRITIC HER HEART MIGHT BLEED AND HER EYES FILLED WITH TEARS AS HE READ BUT THEN AS HE WOULD SAY THE BEAUTY THE MUSIC IS IT BEAUTIFUL IS IT MUSIC
ilment, that Antony was going about the woods and the moors saying over to himself the name he had found for the Image, as we saw in the first chapter; and his love for Silencieux, begun more or less as a determined self-illusion, grew more and more of a reality. Every day new life welled into Silencieux's face, as every day life ebbed from the face of Beatrice, surely foreseeing the coming on of what she had feared. For the love he gave to Silencieux Antony must take away from Beatrice, from whom as the days went by he grew more and more withdrawn. It was true that the long lonely days which he spent in the wood bore fruit in a remarkable productiveness. Never had his imagination been so enkindled, or his pen so winged. But this very industry, the proofs of which he would each evening bring down the wood for that fine judgment of Beatrice's, which, in spite of all, still remained more to him than any other praise—this very industry was the secret confirmation for Beatrice's sad heart. HAD PROGRESSED SO FAR TOWARDS FULFILMENT THAT ANTHONY WAS GOING ABOUT THE WOODS AND THE MOOR SAYING OVER TO HIMSELF THE NAME HE HAD FOUND FOR THE IMAGE AS WE SAW IN THE FIRST CHAPTER AND HIS LOVE FOR SALAJO BEGUN MORE OR LESS AS A DETERMINED SELF ILLUSION GREW MORE AND MORE OF A REALITY EVERY DAY NEW LIFE WELLED INTO SOLAJO'S FACE AS EVERY DAY LIFE EBBED FROM THE FACE OF BEATRICE SURELY FORESEEING THE COMING OF WHAT SHE HAD FEARED FOR THE LOVE HE GAVE TO SALAJO ANTONY MUST TAKE AWAY FROM BEATRICE FROM WHOM AS THE DAYS WENT BY HE GREW MORE AND MORE WITHDRAWN IT WAS TRUE THAT THE LONG LONELY DAYS WHICH HE SPENT IN THE WOOD BORE FRUIT IN A REMARKABLE PRODUCTIVENESS NEVER HAD HIS IMAGINATION BEEN SO ENKINDLED OR HIS PEN SO WINGED BUT THIS VERY INDUSTRY THE PROOFS OF WHICH HE WOULD EACH EVENING BRING DOWN THE WOOD FOR THAT FINE JUDGMENT OF BEATRICE'S WHICH IN SPITE OF ALL STILL REMAINED MORE TO HIM THAN ANY OTHER PRAISE THIS VERY INDUSTRY WAS THE SECRET CONFIRMATION FOR BEATRICE'S SAD HEART
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