It seemed to her that he could be kept faithful most easily, most surely,
by such an appeal as Robin Pierce would have loved. She had sought to
rouse, to play upon the instincts of the primitive man. She had not gone
very far, it is true, but her methods had been common, ordinary. She had
undervalued Fritz's nature. That was what she felt now. He had behaved
badly to her, had wronged her, but he had believed in her very much. She
resolved to make his belief more intense. An expression on his face--only
that--had wrought a vital change in her feeling towards him, her
conception of him. She ranged him henceforth with Sir Donald, with Robin
Pierce. He stood among the believers in the angel.
She called upon the angel passionately, feverishly.
There was strength in Lady Holme's character, and not merely strength of
temper. When she was roused, confident, she could be resolute,
persistent; could shut her eyes to side issues and go onward looking
straight before her. Now she went onward and she felt a new force within
her, a force that would not condescend to pettiness, to any groping in
the mud.
Lord Holme was puzzled. He felt the change in his wife, but did not
understand it. Since the fracas with Leo Ulford their relations had
slightly altered. Vaguely, confusedly, he was conscious of being pitied,
yes, surely pitied by his wife. She shed a faint compassion, like a light
cloud, over the glory of his wrongdoing.
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