I am sick of the smell of sour milk, and sour meat, and sour
everything, and then the clothes _will_ not dry, and no wet thing
does, and everything smells mouldy; and altogether I feel as if I
never wanted to eat again.
Your letter, which was neither sour nor mouldy, formed a very
agreeable contrast to all these things; the more so for being
unexpected. I am much obliged to you for it. As to my health, it gives
me very little solicitude, although I am bad enough and daily growing
worse. I feel no life, no energy, no appetite, or rather a growing
distaste for food; in fact, I am becoming quite ethereal. Upon
reflection I perceive that it pleases my Father to keep me in the
fire, for my whole situation is excessively harassing and painful. I
suffer with sensible distress in the brain, as I have done more or
less since my sickness last winter, a distress which some days takes
from me all power of planning or executing anything; and you know
that, except this poor head, my unfortunate household has no
mainspring, for nobody feels any kind of responsibility to do a thing
in time, place, or manner, except as I oversee it.
Georgiana is so excessively weak, nervous, cross, and fretful, night
and day, that she takes all Anna's strength and time with her; and
then the children are, like other little sons and daughters of Adam,
full of all kinds of absurdity and folly.
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