Dr. Duncan could not understand the change that had come over his wife. He saw that some sorrow preyed upon her health, that she was not suffering from mere bodily illness, though she would often impatiently deny this.
Occasionally he spoke to her in terms of mild annoyance. This stung her to the quick; she would become moody, and sink into stubborn silence.
Sometimes she would prevaricate when he questioned her, for her mental and moral strength were gradually failing beneath the great strain.
He perceived that her manner towards him was not sincere as of old. This caused him great uneasiness. Vague suspicions that assumed no definite shape crossed his mind, and by degrees a sort of estrangement really sprang up between them. Not that they were less affectionate than before; they were even more so, but by fits only, divided from each other by periods of coolness felt instinctively rather than openly shown, arising from mutual misunderstanding.
A really serious secret existing between a husband and wife cannot fail to bring about this result. It is more than can be expected from human nature, that such a mystery should not call up some doubts, though to be indignantly put away as soon as they have risen. But the doubts did rise and that was enough to work much mischief.
So on one side there was the doubt, and on the other side, indignation at being doubted, and shame, and sorrow, and dread foreboding. Susan Riley's second warning did its work well, and had cast a shadow on the happy home.