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She needed much more than most people, because she had
much more than most people have to give.
Her failure to express herself in an art had been a tragedy. From this
tragedy she turned, not with bitterness, but perhaps with an almost
fiercer energy, to Vere. Her intellect, released from fruitless toil,
was running loose demanding some employment. She sought that
employment in developing the powers of her child. Vere was not
specially studious. Such an out-of-door temperament as hers could
never belong to a bookworm or a recluse. But she was naturally clever,
as her father had not been, and she was enthusiastic not only in
pleasure but in work. Long ago Hermione, trying with loving anxiety to
educate her boyish husband, to make him understand certain subtleties
of her own, had found herself frustrated. When she made such attempts
with Vere she was met half way. The girl understood with swiftness
even those things with which she was not specially in sympathy. Her
father's mind had slipped away, ever so gracefully, from all which it
did not love.


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