"I wonder if she was reading,"
she added, slowly, after a moment.
"Even the children have their secrets," he answered. As he spoke he
turned his head and looked out of the window towards Ischia. "How
clear it is to-night! There will be no storm."
"No. We can dine outside. I have told them." Her voice sounded
slightly constrained. "I will go and call Vere," she added.
"She is in the house?"
"I think so."
She went out, shutting the door behind her.
So Vere was working. Artois felt sure that her conversation with him
had given to her mind, perhaps to her heart, too, an impulse that had
caused an outburst of young energy. Ah! the blessed ardors of youth!
How beautiful they are, and, even in their occasional absurdity, how
sacred. What Hermione had said had made him realize acutely the
influence which his celebrity and its cause--the self that had made it
--must have upon a girl who was striving as Vere was. He felt a thrill
of pleasure, even of triumph, that startled him, so seldom now,
jealous and careful as he was of his literary reputation, did he draw
any definite joy from it.
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