re and Ruffo standing together, so youthful, so
happy in their simple, casual intercourse.

It was as if Vere had been mysteriously drawn to this boy because of his
resemblance to the father she had never seen.

Vere! Little Vere!

Again the mother's tenderness welled up in Hermione's heart, this time
sweeping away the reluctance to be humble.

"I will go to Vere now."

She went to the door, as she had gone to it the previous day. But this
time she did not hesitate to open it. A strong impulse swept her along,
and she came to her child's room eagerly.

"Vere!"

She knocked at the door.

"Vere! May I come in?"

She knocked again. There was no answer.

Then she opened the door and went in. Possibly Vere was sleeping. The
mosquito-net was drawn round the bed, but Hermione saw that her child
was not behind it. Vere had gone out somewhere.

The mother went to the big window which looked out upon the sea. The
green Venetian blind was drawn. She pushed up one of its flaps and bent
to look through. Below, a little way out on the calm water, she saw
Vere's boat rocking softly in obedience to the small movement that is
never absent from the sea. The white awning was stretched above the
stern-seats, and under it lay Vere in her white linen dress, her small
head, not protected by a hat, supported by a cushion. She lay quite
still, one arm on the gunwale of the boat, the other against her side.
Hermione could not see whether her eyes were shut or open.

The mother watched her for a long time through the blind.

How much of power was enclosed in that young figure that lay so still,
so perfectly at ease, cradled on the great sea, warmed and cherished by
the tempered fires of the sun! How much of power to lift up and to
cast down, to be secret, to create sorrow, to be merciful! Wonderful,
terrible human power!

The watching mother felt just then that she was in the hands of the
child.

"Now it's the child's turn."

Surely Vere must be asleep. Such absolute stillness must mean temporary
withdrawal of consciousness.

Just as Hermione was thinking this, Vere's left hand moved. The girl
lifted it up to her face, and gently and repeatedly rubbed her eyebrow.

Hermione dropped the flap of the blind. The little, oddly natural
movement had suddenly made her feel that it was not right to be watching
Vere when the child must suppose herself to be unobserved and quite
alone with the sea.

As she came away from the window