Lady Holme was not one of these. Her strong temper was token of a vivid
temperament. Till now this vivid temperament had been rocked in the
cradle of an easy, a contented, a very successful life. Such storms as
had come to her had quickly passed away. The sun had never been far off.
Her egoism had been constantly flattered. Her will had been perpetually
paramount. Even the tyranny of Lord Holme had been but as the tyranny of
a selfish, thoughtless, pleasure-seeking boy who, after all, was faithful
to her and was fond of her. His temperamental indifference to any
feelings but his own had been often concealed and overlaid by his strong
physical passion for his wife's beauty, his profound satisfaction in
having carried off and in possessing a woman admired and sought by many
others.
Suddenly life presented to Lady Holme its seamy side; Fate attacking her
in her woman's vanity, her egoism, even in her love. The vision startled.
The blow stung. She was conscious of confusion, of cloud, then of a
terrible orderliness, of a clear light. In the confusion she seemed to
hear voices never heard before, voices that dared to jeer at her; in the
cloud to see phantoms of gigantic size menacing her, impending over her.
The orderliness, the clear light were more frightful to her. They left
less to her imagination; had, as it were, no ragged edges. In them she
faced a definite catastrophe, saw it whole, as one sees a near object in
the magical atmosphere of the East, outlined with burning blue, quivering
with relentless gold.
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