England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
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. Since then, he had come
back every night in agonies of miserable anticipation. Her illness, and
his own miseries, were of course much intensified by her self-willed
habits. When she remained away from home till after midnight, Julian
was always in fear lest some accident had happened to her, and once or
twice of late she had declared (whether truly or not it was impossible
to say) that she had had fits in the open street. Weather made no
difference to her; she would leave home on the pretence of making
necessary purchases, and would come back drenched with rain. Protest
availed nothing, save to irritate her. At times her conduct was so
utterly unreasonable that Julian looked at her as if to see whether she
had lost her senses. And all this he bore with a patience which few
could have rivalled. Moments there were when she softened, and, in a
burst of hysterical weeping, begged him to forgive her for some unusual
violence, pleading her illness as the cause; and so sensible was he to
compassion, that he always vowed in his mind to bear anything rather
than deal harshly with her. Love for her, in the true sense, he had
never felt, but his pity often led him to effusions of tenderness which
love could scarcely have exceeded. He was giving up everything for her.
Through whole evenings he would sit by her, as she lay in pain, holding
her hands, and talking in a way which he thought would amuse or
interest her.
"You're sorry you married me," she would often say at such times. "It's
no good saying no; I'm sure you are."
That always made Julian think of her father, and of his own promise
always to be a friend to the poor, weak, ailing creature; and he
strengthened himself in his resolution to bear everything.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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