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English
8934
How often had she come to him for a story, and he had been dull and preoccupied—with words; how often asked him to take her a walk up the lane, but he had been too busy—with words! O God, if only she might come and ask again. HOW OFTEN SHE HAD COME TO HIM FOR A STORY AND HE HAD BEEN DULL AND PREOCCUPIED WITH WORDS HOW OFTEN ASKED HIM TO TAKE HER A WALK UP THE LANE BUT HE HAD BEEN TOO BUSY WITH WORDS O GOD IF ONLY SHE MIGHT COME AND ASK AGAIN
 only here to-day, he would bring her something more beautiful than words—or toadstools. He shuddered as he thought of the loathsome form his decaying fancy had taken, that morning by the Three Black Ponds. He had filled the small outstretched hands with Nature's filth and poison. She had asked for flowers, he had brought her toadstools. Oh, the shame, the crime, the anguish! But worst of all was to hear himself saying in the silence of his soul, over and over again without any power to still it, as one is forced sometimes to hear the beating of one's heart: "Silencieux, I bring you my little child." There were times he heard this so plainly when he was with Beatrice that he had to leave her and walk for hours alone. Only unseen among the hills dare he give vent to the mad despair with which that memory tore him. Yes, for words—"only words"—he had sacrificed that wonderful living thing, a child. For words he had missed that magical intercourse, the intercourse with the mind of a child. RDS NONE THE LESS AH IF SHE WERE ONLY HERE TO DAY HE WOULD BRING HER SOMETHING MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN WORDS OR TOADSTOOLS HE SHUDDERED AS HE THOUGHT OF THE LOATHSOME FORM HIS DECAYING FANCY HAD TAKEN THAT MORNING BY THE THREE BLACK PONDS HE HAD FILLED THE SMALL OUTSTRETCHED HANDS WITH NATURE'S FILP AND POISON SHE HAD ASKED FOR FLOWERS HE HAD BROUGHT HER TOADSTOOLS OH THE SHAME THE CRIME THE ANGUISH BUT WORST OF ALL WAS TO HEAR HIMSELF SAYING IN THE SILENCE OF HIS SOUL OVER AND OVER AGAIN WITHOUT ANY POWER TO STEAL IT AS ONE IS FORCED SOMETIMES TO HEAR THE BEATING OF ONE'S HEART SILAJO I BRING YOU MY LITTLE CHILD THERE WERE TIMES HE HEARD THIS SO PLAINLY WHEN HE WAS WITH BEATRICE THAT HE HAD TO LEAVE HER AND WALK FOR HOURS ALONE ONLY UNSEEN AMONG THE HILLS DARE HE GIVE VENT TO THE MAD DESPAIR WITH WHICH THAT MEMORY TORE HIM YES FOR WORDS ONLY WORDS HE HAD SACRIFICED THAT WONDERFUL LIVING THING A CHILD FOR WORDS HE HAD MISSED THAT MAGICAL INTERCOURSE THE INTERCOURSE WITH THE MIND OF A CHILD
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