in the walls.

The paint and paper look as if a boys' school had used it. It is
stripped off--the paper--in great patches all around the head of my bed,
about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of
the room low down. I never saw a worse paper in my life.

One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic
sin.

It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough
to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the
lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit
suicide--plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard
of contradictions.

The color is repellent, almost revolting; a smouldering unclean yellow,
strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight.

It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in
others.

No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to
live in this room long.

There comes John, and I must put this away,--he hates to have me write a
word.

We have been here two weeks, and I haven't felt like writing before,
since that first day.

I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and
there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of
strength.

John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious.

I am glad my case is not serious!

But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing.

John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no REASON
to suffer, and that satisfies him.

Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do my
duty in any way!

I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and
here I am a comparative burden already!

Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am
able,--to dress and entertain, and other things.

It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby!

And yet I CANNOT be with him, it makes me so nervous.

I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about
this wall-paper!

At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that I
was letting it get the better of me, and that nothing was worse for a
nervous patient than to give way to such fancies.

He said that after the wall-paper was changed it would be the heavy
bedstead, and then the barred windows, and then that gate at the head of
the stairs, and so on.

"You know the pla