When he left the room for a moment, in obedience to it,
Waymark could hear Harriet's voice speaking in a peevish or
ill-tempered tone, and Julian would return pale with agitation,
unable to utter consecutive words. It was a little better when the
meeting was at Waymark's, but even then Julian was anything but at
his ease. He would often sit for a long time in gloomy silence, and
seldom could even affect his old cheerfulness. The change which a
year had made in him was painful. His face was growing haggard with
ceaseless anxiety. The slightest unexpected noise made him start
nervously. His old enthusiasms were dying away. His daily work was a
burden which grew more and more oppressive. He always seemed weary,
alike in body and mind.
Harriet's ailments were not of that unreal kind which hysterical
women often affect, for the mere sake of demanding sympathy, though
it was certain she made the most of them. The scrofulous taint in
her constitution was declaring itself in many ways. The most serious
symptoms took the form of convulsive fits. On Julian's return home
one evening, he had found her stretched upon the floor, unconscious,
foaming at the mouth, and struggling horribly.
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