The Secret Garden Frances Hodgson Burnett (recommended reading .TXT) đ
- Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
Book online «The Secret Garden Frances Hodgson Burnett (recommended reading .TXT) đ». Author Frances Hodgson Burnett
All this was not an uplifting thing to recall, but as the train whirled him through mountain passes and golden plains the man who was âcoming aliveâ began to think in a new way and he thought long and steadily and deeply.
âPerhaps I have been all wrong for ten years,â he said to himself. âTen years is a long time. It may be too late to do anythingâ âquite too late. What have I been thinking of!â
Of course this was the wrong Magicâ âto begin by saying âtoo late.â Even Colin could have told him that. But he knew nothing of Magicâ âeither black or white. This he had yet to learn. He wondered if Susan Sowerby had taken courage and written to him only because the motherly creature had realized that the boy was much worseâ âwas fatally ill. If he had not been under the spell of the curious calmness which had taken possession of him he would have been more wretched than ever. But the calm had brought a sort of courage and hope with it. Instead of giving way to thoughts of the worst he actually found he was trying to believe in better things.
âCould it be possible that she sees that I may be able to do him good and control him?â he thought. âI will go and see her on my way to Misselthwaite.â
But when on his way across the moor he stopped the carriage at the cottage, seven or eight children who were playing about gathered in a group and bobbing seven or eight friendly and polite curtsies told him that their mother had gone to the other side of the moor early in the morning to help a woman who had a new baby. âOur Dickon,â they volunteered, was over at the Manor working in one of the gardens where he went several days each week.
Mr. Craven looked over the collection of sturdy little bodies and round red-cheeked faces, each one grinning in its own particular way, and he awoke to the fact that they were a healthy likable lot. He smiled at their friendly grins and took a golden sovereign from his pocket and gave it to âour âLizabeth Ellenâ who was the oldest.
âIf you divide that into eight parts there will be half a crown for each of you,â he said.
Then amid grins and chuckles and bobbing of curtsies he drove away, leaving ecstasy and nudging elbows and little jumps of joy behind.
The drive across the wonderfulness of the moor was a soothing thing. Why did it seem to give him a sense of homecoming which he had been sure he could never feel againâ âthat sense of the beauty of land and sky and purple bloom of distance and a warming of the heart at drawing nearer to the great old house which had held those of his blood for six hundred years? How he had driven away from it the last time, shuddering to think of its closed rooms and the boy lying in the four-posted bed with the brocaded hangings. Was it possible that perhaps he might find him changed a little for the better and that he might overcome his shrinking from him? How real that dream had beenâ âhow wonderful and clear the voice which called back to him, âIn the gardenâ âIn the garden!â
âI will try to find the key,â he said. âI will try to open the door. I mustâ âthough I donât know why.â
When he arrived at the Manor the servants who received him with the usual ceremony noticed that he looked better and that he did not go to the remote rooms where he usually lived attended by Pitcher. He went into the library and sent for Mrs. Medlock. She came to him somewhat excited and curious and flustered.
âHow is Master Colin, Medlock?â he inquired.
âWell, sir,â Mrs. Medlock answered, âheâsâ âheâs different, in a manner of speaking.â
âWorse?â he suggested.
Mrs. Medlock really was flushed.
âWell, you see, sir,â she tried to explain, âneither Dr. Craven, nor the nurse, nor me can exactly make him out.â
âWhy is that?â
âTo tell the truth, sir, Master Colin might be better and he might be changing for the worse. His appetite, sir, is past understandingâ âand his waysâ ââ
âHas he become moreâ âmore peculiar?â her master asked, knitting his brows anxiously.
âThatâs it, sir. Heâs growing very peculiarâ âwhen you compare him with what he used to be. He used to eat nothing and then suddenly he began to eat something enormousâ âand then he stopped again all at once and the meals were sent back just as they used to be. You never knew, sir, perhaps, that out of doors he never would let himself be taken. The things weâve gone through to get him to go out in his chair would leave a body trembling like a leaf. Heâd throw himself into such a state that Dr. Craven said he couldnât be responsible for forcing him. Well, sir, just without warningâ ânot long after one of his worst tantrums he suddenly insisted on being taken out every day by Miss Mary and Susan Sowerbyâs boy Dickon that could push his chair. He took a fancy to both Miss Mary and Dickon, and Dickon brought his tame animals, and, if youâll credit it, sir, out of doors he will stay from morning until
Comments (0)