himself would think as I
do."

It was not without an effort, a strong effort, that Hermione was able
to speak the last sentence. Vere came nearer to her mother, and stood
before her, as if she were going to say something that was decisive or
important. But she hesitated.

"What is it, Vere?" Hermione asked, gently.

"I might learn from life itself what Monsieur Emile's books might teach
me."

"Some day. And when that time comes neither I nor he would wish to keep
them out of your hands."

"I see. Well, Madre dear, let us read whatever you like."

Vere had been on the verge of telling her mother about the previous
night and Peppina. But, somehow, at the last moment she could not.

And thus, for the moment at least, Artois and she shared another secret
of which Hermione was unaware.

But very soon Hermione noticed that Vere was specially kind always to
Peppina. They did not meet, perhaps, very often, but when by chance
they did Vere spoke to the disfigured girl with a gentleness, almost a
tenderness, that were striking.

"You like Peppina, Vere?" asked her mother one day.

"Yes, because I pity her so much."

There was a sound that was almost like passion in the girl's voice; and,
looking up, Hermione saw that her eyes were full of light, as if the
spirit had set two lamps in them.

"It is strange," Vere continued, in a quieter tone; "but sometimes I
feel as if on the night of the storm I had had a sort of consciousness
of her coming--as if, when I saw the Saint's light shining, and bent
down to the water and made the sign of the Cross, I already knew
something of Peppina's wound, as if I made the sign to protect our Casa
del Mare, to ward off something evil."

"That was coming to us with Peppina, do you mean?"

"I don't know, Madre."

"Are you thinking of Giulia's foolish words about the evil eye?"

"No. It's all vague, Madre. But Peppina's cross sometimes seems to me to
be a sign, a warning come into the house. When I see it it seems to say
there is a cross to be borne by some one here, by one of us."

"How imaginative you are, Vere!"

"So are you, Madre! But you try to hide it from me."

Hermione was startled. She took Vere's hand, and held it for a moment
in silence, pressing it with a force that was nervous. And her luminous,
expressive eyes, immensely sensitive, beautiful in their sensitiveness,
showed that she was moved. At last she said:

"Perhaps that is true. Yes, I suppose it is."

"