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Vere's could grasp even an unloved subject. There was
mental grit in her--Artois knew it. In all her work until her
sixteenth year Vere had consulted her mother. Nothing of her child
till then was ever hidden from Hermione, except those things which the
human being cannot reveal, and sometimes scarcely knows of. The child
drew very much from her mother, responded to her enthusiasm, yet
preserved instinctively, and quite without self-consciousness, her own
individuality.
Artois had noticed this, and this had led him to say that Vere also
was a force.
But when she was sixteen Vere woke up to something. Until now no one
but herself knew to what. Sometimes she shut herself up alone in her
room for long periods. When she came out she looked lazy, her mother
thought, and she liked to go then to some nook of the rocks and sit
alone, or to push a boat out into the centre of the Saint's Pool, and
lie in it with her hands clasped behind her head looking up at the
passing clouds or at the radiance of the blue.


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