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Vere's letter came. He read it with eagerness and pleasure till he
came to the postscript. But that startled him. He knew that Vere had
never read his books. He thought her far too young to read them. Till
lately he had almost a contempt for those who write with one eye on
"la jeune fille." Now he could conceive writing with a new pleasure
something that Vere might read. But those books of his! Why had
Hermione suddenly given that permission? He remembered Peppina. Vere
must have told her mother of the scene with Peppina, and how her eyes
had been opened to certain truths of life, how she had passed from
girlhood to womanhood through that gate of knowledge. And Hermione
must have thought that it was useless to strive to keep Vere back.
But did he wish Vere to read all that he had written?
On Thursday he went over to the island with mingled eagerness and
reluctance. That little home in the sea, washed by blue waters, rooted
by blue skies, sun-kissed and star-kissed by day and night, drew and
repelled him.


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