hat he made
an impression. And, though he was easily inclined to be suspicious
of those whom he did not know well, Hermione knew him to be both
intelligent and shrewd, especially about those for whom he had
affection. She wondered now whether it were possible that Gaspare saw,
understood, or even divined intuitively, more clearly than she did--she,
a mother!

It was surely very unlikely.

She remembered that Gaspare had a jealous nature, like most of his
countrymen.

Nevertheless he had suddenly made the islet seem different to her.
She had thought of it as remote, as pleasantly far away from Naples,
isolated in the quiet sea. But it was very easy to reach from Naples,
and, as Gaspare had said, what did they know, or understand, of the
Neapolitans, they who were strangers in the land?

She wondered whether Vere was still outside. To-night she certainly
envisaged Vere newly. Never till to-night had she thought of her as
anything but a child; as characteristic, as ardent, as determined
sometimes, perhaps as forceful even, but always with a child's mind
behind it all.

But to the people of the South Vere was already a woman--even to
Gaspare, who had held her in his arms when she was in long clothes. At
least Hermione supposed so now, after what Gaspare had said about the
giovinotti, who, in Sicily, would have been wishing to marry Vere, had
she been Sicilian. And perhaps even the mind of Vere was more grown-up
than her mother had been ready to suppose.

The mother was conscious of a slight but distinct uneasiness. It was
vague. Had she been asked to explain it she could not, perhaps, have
done so.

Presently, after a minute or two of hesitation, she went to the window
that faced north, opened it, and stood by, listening. It was from the
sea on this side that the fishermen who lived in the Mergellina, and in
the town of Naples, came to the islet. It was from this direction that
Ruffo had come three days ago.

Evidently Gaspare had been turning over the boy's acquaintance with
Vere in his mind all that time, disapproving of it, secretly condemning
Hermione for having allowed it. No, not that; Hermione felt that he was
quite incapable of condemning her. But he was a watchdog who did not
bark, but who was ready to bite all those who ventured to approach his
two mistresses unless he was sure of their credentials. And of this
boy's, Ruffo's, he was not sure.

Hermione recalled the boy; his brown healthiness, his lau