rew away the girl's
soul as if she were led by angels, or, like Peter, walked upon the deep
at some divine command. She felt that though her body was on the islet
the vital part of her, the real "I," was free to roam across the great
expanse that lay flat and still and delicately mysterious to the limits
of eternity.

She had strange encounters there, the soul of her, as she went towards
the East.

The evening calm was different. There was, Vere thought, less of heaven
about it, but perhaps more of the wonder of this world. And this made
her feel as if she had been nearer to heaven at her birth than she would
be at her death. She knew nothing of the defilements of life. Her purity
of mind was very perfect; but, taking a parable from Nature, she applied
it imaginatively to Man, and she saw him covered with dust because of
his journey through the world. Poor man!

And then she pitied herself too. But that passed. For if the sea at
evening held most of the wonder of this world, it was worth the
holding. Barely would she substitute the heavenly mysteries for it.
The fishermen's boats were dreams upon a dream. Each sail was akin to
a miracle. A voice that called across the water from a distance brought
tears to Vere's eyes when the magic was at its fullest. For it seemed
to mean all things that were tender, all things that were wistful, all
things that trembled with hope--that trembled with love.

With summer Vere could give herself up to the sea, and not only
imaginatively but by a bodily act.

Every day, and sometimes twice a day, she put on her bathing-dress in
the Casa del Mare, threw a thin cloak over her, and ran down to the edge
of the sea, where Gaspare was waiting with the boat. Hermione did
not bathe. It did not suit her now. And Gaspare was Vere's invariable
companion. He had superintended her bathing when she was little. He
had taught her to swim. And with no one else would he ever trust his
Padroncina when she gave herself to the sea. Sometimes he would row her
out to a reef of rocks in the open water not too many yards from the
island, and she would dive from them. Sometimes, if it was very hot, he
would take her to the Grotto of Virgil. Sometimes they went far out to
sea, and then, like her father in the Ionian Sea before the Casa delle
Sirene, Vere would swim away and imagine that this was her mode of
travel, that she was journeying alone to some distant land, or that she
had been taken by the sea forev