I lie here on this great immovable bed—it is nailed down，I believe—and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is asgood as gymnastics， I assure you. I start， We’ll say， at thebottom， down in the corner over there where it has not beentouched， and I determine for the thousandth time that I WILLfollow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion.
I know a little of the principle of design， and I know thisthing was not arranged on any laws of radiation， or alternation，or repetition， or symmetry， or anything else that I ever heardof.
It is repeated， of course， by the breadths， but not otherwise.
Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone， the bloatedcurves and flourishes—a kind of “debased Romanesque”
with delirium tremens—go waddling up and down in isolatedcolumns of fatuity.
But， on the other hand， they connect diagonally， and thesprawling outlines run off in great slanting waves of optichorror， like a lot of wallowing seaweeds in full chase.
The whole thing goes horizontally， too， at least it seems so，and I exhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of itsgoing in that direction.
They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze， and thatadds wonderfully to the confusion.
There is one end of the room where it is almost intact，and there， when the crosslights fade and the low sun shinesdirectly upon it， I can almost fancy radiation after all，—theinterminable grotesques seem to form around a common centreand rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction.
It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap I guess.
I don’t know why I should write this.
I don’t want to.
I don’t feel able.
And I know John would think it absurd. But I MUST saywhat I feel and think in some way—it is such a relief！
But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.
Half the time now I am awfully lazy， and lie down ever somuch.
John says I musn’t lose my strength， and has me take codliver oil and lots of tonics and things， to say nothing of ale andwine and rare meat.
Dear John！ He loves me very dearly， and hates to have mesick. I tried to have a real earnest reasonable talk with himthe other day， and tell him how I wish he would let me go andmake a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia.
But he said I wasn’t able to go， nor able to stand it after I gotthere； and I did not make out a very good case for myself， for Iwas crying before I had finished.
It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Justthis nervous weakness I suppose.
And dear John gathered me up in his arms， and just carriedme upstairs and laid me on the bed， and sat by me and read tome till it tired my head.
He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had， andthat I must take care of myself for his sake， and keep well.
He says no one but myself can help me out of it， that I mustuse my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies runaway with me.
There’s one comfort， the baby is well and happy， and doesnot have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wall-paper.
If we had not used it， that blessed child would have！ Whata fortunate escape！ Why， I wouldn’t have a child of mine， animpressionable little thing， live in such a room for worlds.
I never thought of it before， but it is lucky that John kept mehere after all， I can stand it so much easier than a baby， yousee.
Of course I never mention it to them any more—I am toowise，—but I keep watch of it all the same.
There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me， orever will.
Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer everyday.
It is always the same shape， only very numerous.
And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping aboutbehind that pattern. I don’t like it a bit. I wonder—I begin tothink—I wish John would take me away from here！
It is so hard to talk with John about my case， because he isso wise， and because he loves me so.
But I tried it last night.
It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around just as thesun does.
I hate to see it sometimes， it creeps so slowly， and alwayscomes in by one window or another.
John was asleep and I hated to waken him， so I kept still andwatched the moonlight on that undulating wall-paper till I feltcreepy.
The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern， just as ifshe wanted to get out.
I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper DIDmove， and when I came back John was awake.
“What is it， little girl？” he said. “Don’t go walking about likethat—You’ll get cold.”
I though it was a good time to talk， so I told him that I reallywas not gaining here， and that I wished he would take meaway.
“Why darling！” said he， “our lease will be up in three weeks，and I can’t see how to leave before.
“The repairs are not done at home， and I cannot possiblyleave town just now. Of course if you were in any danger， Icould and would， but you really are better， dear， whether youcan see it or not. I am a doctor， dear， and I know. You aregaining flesh and color， your appetite is better， I feel reallymuch easier about you.”
“I don’t weigh a bit more，” said I， “nor as much； and myappetite may be better in the evening when you are here， but itis worse in the morning when you are away！”
“Bless her little heart！” said he with a big hug， “she shall beas sick as she pleases！ But now let’s improve the shining hoursby going to sleep， and talk about it in the morning！”
“And you won’t go away？” I asked gloomily.
“Why， how can I， dear？ It is only three weeks more andthen we will take a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie isgetting the house ready. Really dear you are better！”
“Better in body perhaps—” I began， and stopped short，for he sat up straight and looked at me with such a stern，reproachful look that I could not say another word.
“My darling，” said he， “I beg of you， for my sake and forour child’s sake， as well as for your own， that you will neverfor one instant let that idea enter your mind！ There is nothingso dangerous， so fascinating， to a temperament like yours. It isa false and foolish fancy. Can you not trust me as a physicianwhen I tell you so？”
