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English
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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. 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
t not all the infamies of natural law can dismay? Nevertheless, Antony confessed himself to God upon the hills, not indeed as one seeking pardon, but punishment. Yet Heaven's benign untroubled blue carried no cloud upon its face, because one breaking human heart had thus breathed into it its unholy secret. Around that whole enormous circle such cries and such confessions were being poured like noxious vapours, from a thousand cities; but that incorruptible ether remained unsullied as on the first morning, the black smoke of it all lost in the optimism of God. On some days he would live over again the scene with Wonder in the wood with unbearable vividness. "Why, those are only words, silly Daddy!"—How many times a day did he not hear that quaint little voice making, with a child's profundity, that tremendous criticism upon literature. He had silenced her with the music of words, as he had silenced his own heart and soul with the same music, but they were still only words none the less.  OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT THAT NOT ALL THE INFAMIES OF NATURAL LAW CAN DISMAY NEVERTHELESS ANTONY CONFESSED HIMSELF TO GOD UPON THE HILLS NOT INDEED AS ONE SEEKING PARDON BUT PUNISHMENT YET HEAVEN'S BENIGN UNTROUBLED BLUE CARRIED NO CLOUD UPON ITS FACE BECAUSE ONE BREAKING HUMAN HEART HAD THUS BREATHED INTO IT ITS UNHOLY SECRET AROUND THAT WHOLE ENORMOUS CIRCLE SUCH CRIES AND SUCH CONFESSIONS WERE BEING POURED LIKE NOXIOUS VAPORS FROM A THOUSAND CITIES BUT THAT INCORRUPTIBLE ETHER REMAINED UNSULLIED AS ON THE FIRST MORNING THE BLACK SMOKE OF IT ALL LOST IN THE OPTIMISM OF GOD ON SOME DAYS HE WOULD LIVE OVER AGAIN THE SCENE WITH WONDER IN THE WOOD WITH UNBEARABLE VIVIDNESS WHY THOSE ARE ONLY WORDS SILLY DADDY HOW MANY TIMES A DAY DID HE NOT HEAR THAT QUAINT LITTLE VOICE MAKING WITH A CHILD'S PROFUNDITY THAT TREMENDOUS CRITICISM UPON LITERATURE HE HAD SILENCED HER WITH THE MUSIC OF WORDS AS HE HAD SILENCED HIS OWN HEART AND SOUL WITH THE SAME MUSIC BUT THEY WERE STILL ONLY WORDS NONE THE LESS
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