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this air of simple integrity, for where there is no strife &\29 collusion
no compromise, it seems as if truth were there, undraped,
itself, undraped.
      So And what As Nothing it seems can break that pure
image; or corrupt that innocence; or disturb the lovely swaying
mantle of silence which day after day, week after week &
month after month lies upon the house, where save for the
wandering gusts & the se damp sea air, & weavinges into
itself the trembling cry of a rook & the fainter passingstranger calls &
echoes, which coming out[?] a[?] seafar from sea, &[?]moves[?] at from the sea, or
the hum far away in the fields of some some hum rising
far away in the in the fields; whether some throb; some
[?] pulse. & then gently mak muffling & folding the house again.
.in silence. Only suddenly & for no perceptible reason, a board on the landg creaks; &
then again {the wrapping of the shawl loosens itself, as
after y centuries in one second a giant avalanche detaches
itself,} & where the wrapping one fold of the
shawl loosens itself, & whether by as if some
insidious jaw [?] concealing its operations had finally bitten
through some tie & loosened the shawls hold upon the
skull. At the same moment, too, – almost more
surprisingly, with a sound like the grating of iron
& the

 


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