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She had felt that for some time. She was more conscious than
ever of it now. Around her mother there was an atmosphere of
uneasiness in which she felt herself involved. And she was vaguely
conscious of the new distance between them, a distance daily growing
wider. Now and then, lately, she had felt almost uncomfortable with
her mother, in the sitting-room when she was saying good-night, and
just now when she sat on the bed. Youth is terribly quick to feel
hostility, however subtle. The thought that her mother could be
hostile to her had never entered Vere's head. Nevertheless, the
mother's faint and creeping hostility--for at times Hermione's feeling
was really that, thought she would doubtless have denied it even to
herself--disagreeably affected the child.
"What can be the matter with Madre?" she thought.
She went over to the writing-table, where she had hastily shut up her
poems on hearing the knock at the door, but she did not take them out
again. Instead she sat down and wrote the note to Monsieur Emile.


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