She had not conquered herself. Again the thought
of suicide came upon her, and she felt that her life or death were in the
hands of this man whom yet she did not love. They were in his hands
because he was a human being and she was one. There are straits in which
the child of life, whom the invisible hand that is extended in a religion
has not yet found, must find in the darkness a human hand stretched out
to it or sink down in utter terror and perhaps perish. Lady Holme was in
such a strait. She knew it. She said to herself quite plainly that if
Robin failed to stretch out his hand to her she could not go on living.
It was clear to her that her life or death depended upon whether he
remained true to what he had said was his ideal, or whether he proved
false to it and showed himself such a man as Fritz, as a thousand others.
She sickened with anxiety as the moments passed.
Now, leaning upon the wall, she began to scan the lake. Presently she saw
the steamer approaching the landing-stage of Carate on the opposite bank.
The train from Rome had arrived. But Robin would doubtless come by boat.
There was at least another hour to wait. She left the wall and walked
quickly up and down, moving her hands and her lips. Now she almost wished
he were not coming. She recalled the whole story of her acquaintance with
Robin--his adoration of her when she was a girl, his wish to marry her,
his melancholy when she refused him, his persistent affection for her
after she had married Fritz, his persistent belief that there was that
within her which Fritz did not understand and could never satisfy, his
persistent obstinacy in asserting that he had the capacity to understand
and content this hidden want.
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