The sun increased
the feeling of intelligence within her.
And then she thought of her room, of the hours she passed shut in
there, and she was torn by opposing impulses.
But she told no one of them. Vere could keep her secrets although she
was a girl.
How the sea welcomed the summer! To many this home on the island would
have seemed an arid, inhospitable place, desolate and lost amid a
cruel world of cliffs and waters. It was not so to Vere. For she
entered into the life of the sea. She knew all its phases, as one may
know all the moods of a person loved. She knew when she would find it
intensely calm, at early morning and when the evening approached. At a
certain hour, with a curious regularity, the breeze came, generally
from Ischia, and turned it to vivacity. A temper that was almost
frivolous then possessed it, and it broke into gayeties like a
child's. The waves were small, but they were impertinently lively.
They made a turmoil such as urchins make at play. Heedless of
reverence, but not consciously impious, they flung themselves at the
feet of San Francesco, casting up a tiny tribute of spray into the
sun.
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