Had he not said to himself one day, as his boat
glided past the sloping gardens of Posilipo, "Vere must be happy."
Yet that evening he had made her unhappy.
He had come to the island from his self-examination strong in the
determination to be really himself, no longer half self-deceived and
so deceiving. He had gone out upon the terrace, and waited there. But
when Vere had come to join him, he had not been able to be natural. In
his desire to rehabilitate himself thoroughly and swiftly in his own
opinion he must have been almost harsh to the child. She had
approached him a little doubtfully. She had needed specially just then
to be met with even more than the usual friendship. Artois had seen in
her face, in her expressive eyes, a plea not for forgiveness--there
was no need for that, but for compassion, an appeal to him to ignore
and yet to sympathise, that was exquisitely young and winning. But,
because of his self-examination, and because he was feeling acutely,
he had been abrupt, cold, changed in his manner.
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