THE
YELLOW
WALL-PARER.
If
a physician
of
high standing,
and
one's
own husband, assures friends
and
relatives
that
there is really nothing
the
matter
with one
but
temporary nervous
depression - a slight hysterical
tendency
- what
is
one
to
do?
My
brother
is also a physician,
and
also
of
high standing,
and
he says
the
same thing. •
So
I take phosphates
or
phosphites-
whichever
it
is,
and
tonics,
and
journeys,
and
air, and exercise,
and
am absolutely
forbidden to
"work"
until I
am
well again.
Personally, I disagree with
their
ideas.
Personally, I believe
that
congenial
work, with excitement
and
change, would
do
me good.
But
what is one to
do?
I
did
write for a while
111
spite
of
them;
but
it does exhaust
me
a good
deal-having
to
be
so sly about it,
or
else meet with heavy opposition.
I sometimes fancy
that
in
my condi-
tion
if
I
had
less opposition
and
more
. society
and
stimulus -
but
John
says
the
very worst
thing
I
can
do
is to think
about
my condition,
and
I confess it
always makes
me
feel bad.
So I will let it alon e
and
talk about
the
house.
The
most beautiful
place!
It
is quite
alone, standing well
back
from
the
road,
quite
three
miles from
the
village.
It
makes me
think
of
English places
that
you re
ad
about, for there
are
hedges
and
walls a
nd
gates
that
lock,
and
lots
of
separate little houses for
the
gardeners
and
people.
There
is
a delicious
garden!
I never
saw such a garden
-large
and
shady,
full
of
box-bordered
paths,
and
lined with
long grape-covered arbors with seats
under
them.
There
were greenhouses, too,
but
they
are
all
broken
now.
There
was some legal trouble, I be-
lieve, something about
the
heirs
and
co-
heirs;
anyhow,
the
place has
been
empty
for years.
That
spoils my ghostliness, I
am
afraid,
but
I
don't
care
- there is something
strange about
the
house - I
can
feel it.
I even said so to
John
one moonlight
evening,
but
he said what I felt was a
drauglzt,
and
shut
the window.
I
get
unreasonably angry with
John
sometimes.
I'm
sure I never used to be
so
sensitive. I
think
it
is due to this
nervous condition.
But
John
says if I eel so, I shall neglect
proper
self-control; so I take pains to
control
myself-before
him,
at
least, a
nd
that
makes me very tired.
I
don't
like our room a bit. I wanted
one downstairs
that
opened
on
the
piazza
and
had roses all over
the
window,
and
such pretty old-fashioned chintz hng-
ings!
but
John
would not hea
of
it.
He
said there
was
only one window
and
not room for two beds,
and
no
near
room for him if he took another.
He
is very careful and loving,
and
hardly lets me stir without special direc-
tion.
I have a
schedu
le prescription for
each
hour in the
day;
he takes a
ll
care from
me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to
value it ·more.
He
said
we
came
here solely on my
account,
that
I was to have perfect rest
and
all the air I could get.
"Your
ex-
ercise
depends
on
your strength, my
dear,"
said
he,"
and
your food somewhat
on
your
appetite;
but
air you
can
ab-
sorb a
ll
the
time."
So
we
took
the
nur-
sery
at
the top
of
the
house.
It
is
a big, airy room, the whole floor
nearly, with windows
that
look all ways,
and
air
and
sunshine galore.
It
was
nursery first and
then
playroom
and
gymnasium, I should
judge;
for
the
win-
dows are
barred
for little children,
and
there are rings
and
things 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
a
ll
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 con-
stantly
irrit
ate
and
provoke study,
and
when you follow the lame
uncertain
curves for a little distance they suddenly
commit suicide - plunge off
at
outrage-
ous angles, destroy themselves
in
un-
heard
of
contradictions.
