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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:04 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:04 -0700 |
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diff --git a/1952-h/1952-h.htm b/1952-h/1952-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17ce766 --- /dev/null +++ b/1952-h/1952-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1408 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Yellow Wallpaper | Project Gutenberg</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +</style> +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1952 ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>The Yellow Wallpaper</h1> + +<h2>By Charlotte Perkins Gilman</h2> + +<hr /> + +<p> +It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure +ancestral halls for the summer. +</p> + +<p> +A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach +the height of romantic felicity—but that would be asking too much of +fate! +</p> + +<p> +Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it. +</p> + +<p> +Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long untenanted? +</p> + +<p> +John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage. +</p> + +<p> +John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense +horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be +felt and seen and put down in figures. +</p> + +<p> +John is a physician, and <i>perhaps</i>—(I would not say it to a living +soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my +mind)—<i>perhaps</i> that is one reason I do not get well faster. +</p> + +<p> +You see, he does not believe I am sick! +</p> + +<p> +And what can one do? +</p> + +<p> +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? +</p> + +<p> +My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same +thing. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Personally, I disagree with their ideas. +</p> + +<p> +Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do +me good. +</p> + +<p> +But what is one to do? +</p> + +<p> +I did write for a while in spite of them; but it <i>does</i> exhaust me a good +deal—having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition. +</p> + +<p> +I sometimes fancy that in my condition 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. +</p> + +<p> +So I will let it alone and talk about the house. +</p> + +<p> +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 read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of +separate little houses for the gardeners and people. +</p> + +<p> +There is a <i>delicious</i> 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. +</p> + +<p> +There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now. +</p> + +<p> +There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and +co-heirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years. +</p> + +<p> +That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid; but I don’t care—there is +something strange about the house—I can feel it. +</p> + +<p> +I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt was a +<i>draught</i>, and shut the window. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But John says if I feel so I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take pains +to control myself,—before him, at least,—and that makes me very +tired. +</p> + +<p> +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 +hangings! but John would not hear of it. +</p> + +<p> +He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and no near room +for him if he took another. +</p> + +<p> +He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special +direction. +</p> + +<p> +I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day; he takes all care from +me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more. +</p> + +<p> +He said we came here solely on my account, that I was to have perfect rest and +all the air I could get. “Your exercise depends on your strength, my +dear,” said he, “and your food somewhat on your appetite; but air +you can absorb all the time.” So we took the nursery, at the top of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +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 playground and +gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and +there are rings and things in the walls. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The color is repellant, almost revolting; a smouldering, unclean yellow, +strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to live in +this room long. +</p> + +<p> +There comes John, and I must put this away,—he hates to have me write a +word. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +We have been here two weeks, and I haven’t felt like writing before, +since that first day. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious. +</p> + +<p> +I am glad my case is not serious! +</p> + +<p> +But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing. +</p> + +<p> +John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no <i>reason</i> +to suffer, and that satisfies him. +</p> + +<p> +Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do my duty in +any way! +</p> + +<p> +I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and here I am +a comparative burden already! +</p> + +<p> +Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able—to +dress and entertain, and order things. +</p> + +<p> +It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby! +</p> + +<p> +And yet I <i>cannot</i> be with him, it makes me so nervous. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this +wallpaper! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +He said that after the wallpaper 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. +</p> + +<p> +“You know the place is doing you good,” he said, “and really, +dear, I don’t care to renovate the house just for a three months’ +rental.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do let us go downstairs,” I said, “there are such +pretty rooms there.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he +would go down cellar if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +But he is right enough about the beds and windows and things. +</p> + +<p> +It is as airy and comfortable a room as any one need wish, and, of course, I +would not be so silly as to make him uncomfortable just for a whim. +</p> + +<p> +I’m really getting quite fond of the big room, all but that horrid paper. +</p> + +<p> +Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deep-shaded arbors, +the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees. +</p> + +<p> +Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf +belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there +from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in these numerous paths and +arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least. He +says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making a nervous +weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies, and that I +ought to use my will and good sense to check the tendency. So I try. +</p> + +<p> +I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would +relieve the press of ideas and rest me. +</p> + +<p> +But I find I get pretty tired when I try. +</p> + +<p> +It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship about my work. +When I get really well John says we will ask Cousin Henry and Julia down for a +long visit; but he says he would as soon put fire-works in my pillow-case as to +let me have those stimulating people about now. +</p> + +<p> +I wish I could get well faster. +</p> + +<p> +But I must not think about that. This paper looks to me as if it <i>knew</i> +what a vicious influence it had! +</p> + +<p> +There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two +bulbous eyes stare at you upside-down. +</p> + +<p> +I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. Up +and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are +everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn’t match, and the +eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higher than the other. +</p> + +<p> +I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we all know +how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child and get more +entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most +children could find in a toy-store. +</p> + +<p> +I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big old bureau used to have, and +there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend. +</p> + +<p> +I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I could always +hop into that chair and be safe. +</p> + +<p> +The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, however, for we had +to bring it all from downstairs. I suppose when this was used as a playroom +they had to take the nursery things out, and no wonder! I never saw such +ravages as the children have made here. +</p> + +<p> +The wallpaper, as I said before, is torn off in spots, and it sticketh closer +than a brother—they must have had perseverance as well as hatred. +</p> + +<p> +Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered, the plaster itself is +dug out here and there, and this great heavy bed, which is all we found in the +room, looks as if it had been through the wars. +</p> + +<p> +But I don’t mind it a bit—only the paper. +</p> + +<p> +There comes John’s sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of +me! I must not let her find me writing. +</p> + +<p> +She is a perfect, and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better +profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick! +</p> + +<p> +But I can write when she is out, and see her a long way off from these windows. +</p> + +<p> +There is one that commands the road, a lovely, shaded, winding road, and one +that just looks off over the country. A lovely country, too, full of great elms +and velvet meadows. +</p> + +<p> +This wallpaper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, a particularly +irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly +then. +</p> + +<p> +But in the places where it isn’t faded, and where the sun is just so, I +can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to sulk about +behind that silly and conspicuous front design. +</p> + +<p> +There’s sister on the stairs! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Well, the Fourth of July is over! The people are gone and I am tired out. John +thought it might do me good to see a little company, so we just had mother and +Nellie and the children down for a week. +</p> + +<p> +Of course I didn’t do a thing. Jennie sees to everything now. +</p> + +<p> +But it tired me all the same. +</p> + +<p> +John says if I don’t pick up faster he shall send me to Weir Mitchell in +the fall. +</p> + +<p> +But I don’t want to go there at all. I had a friend who was in his hands +once, and she says he is just like John and my brother, only more so! +</p> + +<p> +Besides, it is such an undertaking to go so far. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over for anything, +and I’m getting dreadfully fretful and querulous. +</p> + +<p> +I cry at nothing, and cry most of the time. +</p> + +<p> +Of course I don’t when John is here, or anybody else, but when I am +alone. +</p> + +<p> +And I am alone a good deal just now. John is kept in town very often by serious +cases, and Jennie is good and lets me alone when I want her to. +</p> + +<p> +So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane, sit on the porch +under the roses, and lie down up here a good deal. +</p> + +<p> +I’m getting really fond of the room in spite of the wallpaper. Perhaps +<i>because</i> of the wallpaper. +</p> + +<p> +It dwells in my mind so! +</p> + +<p> +I lie here on this great immovable bed—it is nailed down, I +believe—and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is as good as +gymnastics, I assure you. I start, we’ll say, at the bottom, down in the +corner over there where it has not been touched, and I determine for the +thousandth time that I <i>will</i> follow that pointless pattern to some sort +of a conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +I know a little of the principle of design, and I know this thing was not +arranged on any laws of radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or symmetry, +or anything else that I ever heard of. +</p> + +<p> +It is repeated, of course, by the breadths, but not otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone, the bloated curves and +flourishes—a kind of “debased Romanesque” with <i>delirium +tremens</i>—go waddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity. +</p> + +<p> +But, on the other hand, they connect diagonally, and the sprawling outlines run +off in great slanting waves of optic horror, like a lot of wallowing seaweeds +in full chase. +</p> + +<p> +The whole thing goes horizontally, too, at least it seems so, and I exhaust +myself in trying to distinguish the order of its going in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze, and that adds wonderfully to +the confusion. +</p> + +<p> +There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, when the +cross-lights fade and the low sun shines directly upon it, I can almost fancy +radiation after all,—the interminable grotesques seem to form around a +common centre and rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction. +</p> + +<p> +It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap, I guess. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I don’t know why I should write this. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t want to. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t feel able. +</p> + +<p> +And I know John would think it absurd. But I <i>must</i> say what I feel and +think in some way—it is such a relief! +</p> + +<p> +But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief. +</p> + +<p> +Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much. +</p> + +<p> +John says I mustn’t lose my strength, and has me take cod-liver oil and +lots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat. +</p> + +<p> +Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried to have +a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell him how I wish +he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia. +</p> + +<p> +But he said I wasn’t able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there; +and I did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying before I +had finished. +</p> + +<p> +It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervous +weakness, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs and laid +me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my head. +</p> + +<p> +He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I must take +care of myself for his sake, and keep well. +</p> + +<p> +He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and +self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me. +</p> + +<p> +There’s one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to +occupy this nursery with the horrid wallpaper. +</p> + +<p> +If we had not used it that blessed child would have! What a fortunate escape! +Why, I wouldn’t have a child of mine, an impressionable little thing, +live in such a room for worlds. +</p> + +<p> +I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here after all. +I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see. +</p> + +<p> +Of course I never mention it to them any more,—I am too wise,—but I +keep watch of it all the same. +</p> + +<p> +There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will. +</p> + +<p> +Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day. +</p> + +<p> +It is always the same shape, only very numerous. +</p> + +<p> +And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern. I +don’t like it a bit. I wonder—I begin to think—I wish John +would take me away from here! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise, and +because he loves me so. +</p> + +<p> +But I tried it last night. +</p> + +<p> +It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around, just as the sun does. +</p> + +<p> +I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in by one +window or another. +</p> + +<p> +John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watched the +moonlight on that undulating wallpaper till I felt creepy. +</p> + +<p> +The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if she wanted to +get out. +</p> + +<p> +I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper <i>did</i> move, and when +I came back John was awake. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, little girl?” he said. “Don’t go walking +about like that—you’ll get cold.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was not +gaining here, and that I wished he would take me away. +</p> + +<p> +“Why darling!” said he, “our lease will be up in three weeks, +and I can’t see how to leave before. +</p> + +<p> +“The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave town just +now. Of course if you were in any danger I could and would, but you really are +better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor, dear, and I know. +You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better. I feel really much +easier about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t weigh a bit more,” said I, “nor as much; and +my appetite may be better in the evening, when you are here, but it is worse in +the morning when you are away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bless her little heart!” said he with a big hug; “she shall +be as sick as she pleases! But now let’s improve the shining hours by +going to sleep, and talk about it in the morning!” +</p> + +<p> +“And you won’t go away?” I asked gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how can I, dear? It is only three weeks more and then we will take +a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie is getting the house ready. +Really, dear, you are better!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“My darling,” said he, “I beg of you, for my sake and for our +child’s sake, as well as for your own, that you will never for one +instant let that idea enter your mind! There is nothing so dangerous, so +fascinating, to a temperament like yours. It is a false and foolish fancy. Can +you not trust me as a physician when I tell you so?” +</p> + +<p> +So of course I said no more on that score, and we went to sleep before long. He +thought I was asleep first, but I wasn’t,—I lay there for hours +trying to decide whether that front pattern and the back pattern really did +move together or separately. +</p> + +<p> +On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, a defiance of +law, that is a constant irritant to a normal mind. +</p> + +<p> +The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but +the pattern is torturing. +</p> + +<p> +You think you have mastered it, but just as you get well under way in +following, it turns a back somersault and there you are. It slaps you in the +face, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. It is like a bad dream. +</p> + +<p> +The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus. If you +can imagine a toadstool in joints, an interminable string of toadstools, +budding and sprouting in endless convolutions,—why, that is something +like it. +</p> + +<p> +That is, sometimes! +</p> + +<p> +There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody seems to +notice but myself, and that is that it changes as the light changes. +</p> + +<p> +When the sun shoots in through the east window—I always watch for that +first long, straight ray—it changes so quickly that I never can quite +believe it. +</p> + +<p> +That is why I watch it always. +</p> + +<p> +By moonlight—the moon shines in all night when there is a moon—I +wouldn’t know it was the same paper. +</p> + +<p> +At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candlelight, lamplight, and worst +of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean, and the woman +behind it is as plain as can be. +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showed +behind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a +woman. +</p> + +<p> +By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keeps her so +still. It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour. +</p> + +<p> +I lie down ever so much now. John says it is good for me, and to sleep all I +can. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, he started the habit by making me lie down for an hour after each meal. +</p> + +<p> +It is a very bad habit, I am convinced, for, you see, I don’t sleep. +</p> + +<p> +And that cultivates deceit, for I don’t tell them I’m +awake,—oh, no! +</p> + +<p> +The fact is, I am getting a little afraid of John. +</p> + +<p> +He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicable look. +</p> + +<p> +It strikes me occasionally, just as a scientific hypothesis, that perhaps it is +the paper! +</p> + +<p> +I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and come into the room +suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I’ve caught him several times +<i>looking at the paper!</i> And Jennie too. I caught Jennie with her hand on +it once. +</p> + +<p> +She didn’t know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, a +very quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she was doing +with the paper she turned around as if she had been caught stealing, and looked +quite angry—asked me why I should frighten her so! +</p> + +<p> +Then she said that the paper stained everything it touched, that she had found +yellow smooches on all my clothes and John’s, and she wished we would be +more careful! +</p> + +<p> +Did not that sound innocent? But I know she was studying that pattern, and I am +determined that nobody shall find it out but myself! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Life is very much more exciting now than it used to be. You see I have +something more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eat better, +and am more quiet than I was. +</p> + +<p> +John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and +said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wallpaper. +</p> + +<p> +I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was +<i>because</i> of the wallpaper—he would make fun of me. He might even +want to take me away. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t want to leave now until I have found it out. There is a week +more, and I think that will be enough. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I’m feeling ever so much better! I don’t sleep much at night, for +it is so interesting to watch developments; but I sleep a good deal in the +daytime. +</p> + +<p> +In the daytime it is tiresome and perplexing. +</p> + +<p> +There are always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow all over +it. I cannot keep count of them, though I have tried conscientiously. +</p> + +<p> +It is the strangest yellow, that wallpaper! It makes me think of all the yellow +things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad +yellow things. +</p> + +<p> +But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it the +moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now +we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, +the smell is here. +</p> + +<p> +It creeps all over the house. +</p> + +<p> +I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the +hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +It gets into my hair. +</p> + +<p> +Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—there +is that smell! +</p> + +<p> +Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find +what it smelled like. +</p> + +<p> +It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most +enduring odor I ever met. +</p> + +<p> +In this damp weather it is awful. I wake up in the night and find it hanging +over me. +</p> + +<p> +It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the +house—to reach the smell. +</p> + +<p> +But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the +<i>color</i> of the paper! A yellow smell. +</p> + +<p> +There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard. A streak +that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the +bed, a long, straight, even <i>smooch</i>, as if it had been rubbed over and +over. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and +round and round—round and round and round—it makes me dizzy! +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I really have discovered something at last. +</p> + +<p> +Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found +out. +</p> + +<p> +The front pattern <i>does</i> move—and no wonder! The woman behind shakes +it! +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, +and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. +</p> + +<p> +Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she +just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. +</p> + +<p> +And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through +that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads. +</p> + +<p> +They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them +upside-down, and makes their eyes white! +</p> + +<p> +If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +I think that woman gets out in the daytime! +</p> + +<p> +And I’ll tell you why—privately—I’ve seen her! +</p> + +<p> +I can see her out of every one of my windows! +</p> + +<p> +It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not +creep by daylight. +</p> + +<p> +I see her on that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in those +dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden. +</p> + +<p> +I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a +carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught +creeping by daylight! +</p> + +<p> +I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can’t do it at night, +for I know John would suspect something at once. +</p> + +<p> +And John is so queer now, that I don’t want to irritate him. I wish he +would take another room! Besides, I don’t want anybody to get that woman +out at night but myself. +</p> + +<p> +I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once. +</p> + +<p> +But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at one time. +</p> + +<p> +And though I always see her she <i>may</i> be able to creep faster than I can +turn! +</p> + +<p> +I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creeping as fast as +a cloud shadow in a high wind. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I mean to try +it, little by little. +</p> + +<p> +I have found out another funny thing, but I shan’t tell it this time! It +does not do to trust people too much. +</p> + +<p> +There are only two more days to get this paper off, and I believe John is +beginning to notice. I don’t like the look in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +And I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me. She had a +very good report to give. +</p> + +<p> +She said I slept a good deal in the daytime. +</p> + +<p> +John knows I don’t sleep very well at night, for all I’m so quiet! +</p> + +<p> +He asked me all sorts of questions, too, and pretended to be very loving and +kind. +</p> + +<p> +As if I couldn’t see through him! +</p> + +<p> +Still, I don’t wonder he acts so, sleeping under this paper for three +months. +</p> + +<p> +It only interests me, but I feel sure John and Jennie are secretly affected by +it. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in town over +night, and won’t be out until this evening. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie wanted to sleep with me—the sly thing! but I told her I should +undoubtedly rest better for a night all alone. +</p> + +<p> +That was clever, for really I wasn’t alone a bit! As soon as it was +moonlight, and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up +and ran to help her. +</p> + +<p> +I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had +peeled off yards of that paper. +</p> + +<p> +A strip about as high as my head and half around the room. +</p> + +<p> +And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me I +declared I would finish it to-day! +</p> + +<p> +We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down again to leave +things as they were before. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it +out of pure spite at the vicious thing. +</p> + +<p> +She laughed and said she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, but I must not +get tired. +</p> + +<p> +How she betrayed herself that time! +</p> + +<p> +But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me—not <i>alive!</i> +</p> + +<p> +She tried to get me out of the room—it was too patent! But I said it was +so quiet and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down again and +sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner—I would call when I +woke. +</p> + +<p> +So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone, and +there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down, with the canvas +mattress we found on it. +</p> + +<p> +We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again. +</p> + +<p> +How those children did tear about here! +</p> + +<p> +This bedstead is fairly gnawed! +</p> + +<p> +But I must get to work. +</p> + +<p> +I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody come in, +till John comes. +</p> + +<p> +I want to astonish him. +</p> + +<p> +I’ve got a rope up here that even Jennie did not find. If that woman does +get out, and tries to get away, I can tie her! +</p> + +<p> +But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on! +</p> + +<p> +This bed will <i>not</i> move! +</p> + +<p> +I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off +a little piece at one corner—but it hurt my teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. It sticks +horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and bulbous +eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision! +</p> + +<p> +I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window +would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try. +</p> + +<p> +Besides I wouldn’t do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step +like that is improper and might be misconstrued. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t like to <i>look</i> out of the windows even—there are so +many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. +</p> + +<p> +I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did? +</p> + +<p> +But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—you don’t get +<i>me</i> out in the road there! +</p> + +<p> +I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and +that is hard! +</p> + +<p> +It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please! +</p> + +<p> +I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to. +</p> + +<p> +For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of +yellow. +</p> + +<p> +But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that +long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way. +</p> + +<p> +Why, there’s John at the door! +</p> + +<p> +It is no use, young man, you can’t open it! +</p> + +<p> +How he does call and pound! +</p> + +<p> +Now he’s crying for an axe. +</p> + +<p> +It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door! +</p> + +<p> +“John dear!” said I in the gentlest voice, “the key is down +by the front steps, under a plantain leaf!” +</p> + +<p> +That silenced him for a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +Then he said—very quietly indeed, “Open the door, my +darling!” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t,” said I. “The key is down by the front door +under a plantain leaf!” +</p> + +<p> +And then I said it again, several times, very gently and slowly, and said it so +often that he had to go and see, and he got it, of course, and came in. He +stopped short by the door. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what +are you doing!” +</p> + +<p> +I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and +Jane! And I’ve pulled off most of the paper, so you can’t put me +back!” +</p> + +<p> +Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my path by +the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time! +</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1952 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/1952-h/images/cover.jpg b/1952-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43d6e05 --- /dev/null +++ b/1952-h/images/cover.jpg |
