" That was what he said, and he knew he was unjust;
but the moral atmosphere between Steve and himself had become permeated
with distrust and dislike. Unhappy miasmas floated hither and thither in
it, and poisoned him. When with Stephen he hardly recognized himself: he
did not belong to himself. Sarcasm, contradiction, opposing ideas, took
possession of and ruled him by the forces of antipathy, just as others
ruled him by the forces of love and attraction.
The days that had been full of peaceful happiness were troubled in all
their hours; and yet the sources of trouble were so vague, so blended
with what he had called unto himself, that he could not give vent to his
unrest and disappointment. His life had had a jar; nothing ran smoothly;
and he was almost glad when Julius announced the near termination of his
visit. He had begun to feel as if Julius were inimical to him; not
consciously so, but in that occult way which makes certain foods and
drinks, certain winds and weathers, inimical to certain personalities.
His presence seemed to have blighted his happiness, as the north wind
blighted his myrtles. "If I could only have let 'well' alone. If I had
never written that letter." Many a time a day he said such words to his
own heart.
In the mean time, Julius was quite unconscious of his position. He was
thoroughly enjoying himself. If others were losing, he was not. He was
in love with the fine old hall.
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