She was obliged to seek a less elevated and airy dormitory.
His voice, always distressingly harsh, was now so awful that it was fascinating.

The notes seemed cracked by grief or illness.

At last, growing feebler, he succumbed to some wasting malady and no longer strutted about in brilliant pre-eminence or came to the piazza calling imperiously for dainties, but rested for hours in some quiet corner.

The physician who was called in prescribed for his liver.

He showed symptoms of poisoning, and I began to fear that in his visit to a neighbor's potato fields he had indulged in Paris green, possibly with suicidal intent.
There was something heroic in his way of dying.