the secret garden-第8节

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〃Nothin'　to　play　with！〃　exclaimed　Martha。　　〃Our　children　plays　with　sticks　and　stones。　　They　just　runs　about　an'　shouts　an'　looks　at　things。〃　Mary　did　not　shout；　but　she　looked　at　things。　　There　was　nothing　else　to　do。　She　walked　round　and　round　the　gardens　and　wandered　about　the　paths　in　the　park。　　Sometimes　she　looked　for　Ben　Weatherstaff；　but　though　several　times　she　saw　him　at　work　he　was　too　busy　to　look　at　her　or　was　too　surly。　Once　when　she　was　walking　toward　him　he　picked　up　his　spade　and　turned　away　as　if　he　did　it　on　purpose。

One　place　she　went　to　oftener　than　to　any　other。　It　was　the　long　walk　outside　the　gardens　with　the　walls　round　them。　　There　were　bare　flower…beds　on　either　side　of　it　and　against　the　walls　ivy　grew　thickly。　There　was　one　part　of　the　wall　where　the　creeping　dark　green　leaves　were　more　bushy　than　elsewhere。　　It　seemed　as　if　for　a　long　time　that　part　had　been　neglected。　The　rest　of　it　had　been　clipped　and　made　to　look　neat；　but　at　this　lower　end　of　the　walk　it　had　not　been　trimmed　at　all。

A　few　days　after　she　had　talked　to　Ben　Weatherstaff；　Mary　stopped　to　notice　this　and　wondered　why　it　was　so。　She　had　just　paused　and　was　looking　up　at　a　long　spray　of　ivy　swinging　in　the　wind　when　she　saw　a　gleam　of　scarlet　and　heard　a　brilliant　chirp；　and　there；　on　the　top　of　the　wall；　forward　perched　Ben　Weatherstaff's　robin　redbreast；　tilting　forward　to　look　at　her　with　his　small　head　on　one　side。

〃Oh！〃　she　cried　out；　〃is　it　youis　it　you？〃　And　it　did　not　seem　at　all　queer　to　her　that　she　spoke　to　him　as　if　she　were　sure　that　he　would　understand　and　answer　her。

He　did　answer。　　He　twittered　and　chirped　and　hopped　along　the　wall　as　if　he　were　telling　her　all　sorts　of　things。　It　seemed　to　Mistress　Mary　as　if　she　understood　him；　too；　though　he　was　not　speaking　in　words。　　It　was　as　if　he　said：

〃Good　morning！　Isn't　the　wind　nice？　Isn't　the　sun　nice？　Isn't　everything　nice？　Let　us　both　chirp　and　hop　and　twitter。　Come　on！　Come　on！〃

Mary　began　to　laugh；　and　as　he　hopped　and　took　little　flights　along　the　wall　she　ran　after　him。　　Poor　little　thin；　sallow；　ugly　Maryshe　actually　looked　almost　pretty　for　a　moment。

〃I　like　you！　I　like　you！〃　she　cried　out；　pattering　down　the　walk；　and　she　chirped　and　tried　to　whistle；　which　last　she　did　not　know　how　to　do　in　the　least。　　But　the　robin　seemed　to　be　quite　satisfied　and　chirped　and　whistled　back　at　her。　At　last　he　spread　his　wings　and　made　a　darting　flight　to　the　top　of　a　tree；　where　he　perched　and　sang　loudly。　That　reminded　Mary　of　the　first　time　she　had　seen　him。　He　had　been　swinging　on　a　tree…top　then　and　she　had　been　standing　in　the　orchard。　　Now　she　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　orchard　and　standing　in　the　path　outside　a　wallmuch　lower　downand　there　was　the　same　tree　inside。

〃It's　in　the　garden　no　one　can　go　into；〃　she　said　to　herself。　〃It's　the　garden　without　a　door。　　He　lives　in　there。　How　I　wish　I　could　see　what　it　is　like！〃

She　ran　up　the　walk　to　the　green　door　she　had　entered　the　first　morning。　　Then　she　ran　down　the　path　through　the　other　door　and　then　into　the　orchard；　and　when　she　stood　and　looked　up　there　was　the　tree　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall；　and　there　was　the　robin　just　finishing　his　song　and；　beginning　to　preen　his　feathers　with　his　beak。

〃It　is　the　garden；〃　she　said。　　〃I　am　sure　it　is。〃

She　walked　round　and　looked　closely　at　that　side　of　the　orchard　wall；　but　she　only　found　what　she　had　found　beforethat　there　was　no　door　in　it。　　Then　she　ran　through　the　kitchen…gardens　again　and　out　into　the　walk　outside　the　long　ivy…covered　wall；　and　she　walked　to　the　end　of　it　and　looked　at　it；　but　there　was　no　door；　and　then　she　walked　to　the　other　end；　looking　again；　but　there　was　no　door。

〃It's　very　queer；〃　she　said。　　〃Ben　Weatherstaff　said　there　was　no　door　and　there　is　no　door。　　But　there　must　have　been　one　ten　years　ago；　because　Mr。　Craven　buried　the　key。〃

This　gave　her　so　much　to　think　of　that　she　began　to　be　quite　interested　and　feel　that　she　was　not　sorry　that　she　had　come　to　Misselthwaite　Manor。　　In　India　she　had　always　felt　hot　and　too　languid　to　care　much　about　anything。　The　fact　was　that　the　fresh　wind　from　the　moor　had　begun　to　blow　the　cobwebs　out　of　her　young　brain　and　to　waken　her　up　a　little。

She　stayed　out　of　doors　nearly　all　day；　and　when　she　sat　down　to　her　supper　at　night　she　felt　hungry　and　drowsy　and　comfortable。　　She　did　not　feel　cross　when　Martha　chattered　away。　　She　felt　as　if　she　rather　liked　to　hear　her；　and　at　last　she　thought　she　would　ask　her　a　question。　She　asked　it　after　she　had　finished　her　supper　and　had　sat　down　on　the　hearth…rug　before　the　fire。

〃Why　did　Mr。　Craven　hate　the　garden？〃　she　said。

She　had　made　Martha　stay　with　her　and　Martha　had　not　objected　at　all。　　She　was　very　young；　and　used　to　a　crowded　cottage　full　of　brothers　and　sisters；　and　she　found　it　dull　in　the　great　servants'　hall　downstairs　where　the　footman　and　upper…housemaids　made　fun　of　her　Yorkshire　speech　and　looked　upon　her　as　a　common　little　thing；　and　sat　and　whispered　among　themselves。　　Martha　liked　to　talk；　and　the　strange　child　who　had　lived　in　India；　and　been　waited　upon　by　〃blacks；〃　was　novelty　enough　to　attract　her。

She　sat　down　on　the　hearth　herself　without　waiting　to　be　asked。

〃Art　tha'　thinkin'　about　that　garden　yet？〃　she　said。　〃I　knew　tha'　would。　　That　was　just　the　way　with　me　when　I　first　heard　about　it。〃

〃Why　did　he　hate　it？〃　Mary　persisted。

Martha　tucked　her　feet　under　her　and　made　herself　quite　comfortable。

〃Listen　to　th'　wind　wutherin'　round　the　house；〃　she　said。　〃You　could　bare　stand　up　on　the　moor　if　you　was　out　on　it　tonight。〃

Mary　did　not　know　what　〃wutherin'〃　meant　until　she　listened；　and　then　she　understood。　　It　must　mean　that　hollow　shuddering　sort　of　roar　which　rushed　round　and　round　the　house　as　if　the　giant　no　one　could　see　were　buffeting　it　and　beating　at　the　walls　and　windows　to　try　to　break　in。　But　one　knew　he　could　not　get　in；　and　somehow　it　made　one　feel　very　safe　and　warm　inside　a　room　with　a　red　coal　fire。

〃But　why　did　he　hate　it　so？〃　she　asked；　after　she　had　listened。　　She　intended　to　know　if　Martha　did。

Then　Martha　gave　up　her　store　of　knowledge。

〃Mind；〃　she　said；　〃Mrs。　Medlock　said　it's　not　to　be　talked　about。　　There's　lots　o'　things　in　this　place　that's　not　to　be　talked　over。　　That's　Mr。　Craven's　orders。　His　troubles　are　none　servants'　business；　he　says。　But　for　th'　garden　he　wouldn't　be　like　he　is。　　It　was　Mrs。　Craven's　garden　that　she　had　made　when　first　they　were　married　an'　she　just　loved　it；　an'　they　used　to　'tend　the　flowers　themselves。　　An'　none　o'　th'　gardeners　was　ever　let　to　go　in。　　Him　an'　her　used　to　go　in　an'　shut　th'　door　an'　stay　there　hours　an'　hours；　readin'　and　talkin'。　An；　she　was　just　a　bit　of　a　girl　an'　there　was　an　old　tree　with　a　branch　bent　like　a　seat　on　it。　　An'　she　made　roses　grow　over　it　an'　she　used　to　sit　there。　　But　one　day　when　she　was　sittin'　there　th'　branch　broke　an'　she　fell　on　th'　ground　an'　was　hurt　so　bad　that　next　day　she　died。　　Th'　doctors　thought　he'd　go　out　o'　his　mind　an'　die；　too。　　That's　why　he　hates　it。　No　one's　never　gone　in　since；　an'　he　won't　let　any　one　talk　about　it。〃

Mary　did　not　ask　any　more　questions。　　She　looked　at　the　red　fire　and　listened　to　the　wind　〃wutherin'。〃　It　seemed　to　be　〃wutherin'〃　louder　than　ever。　At　that　moment　a　very　good　thing　was　happening　to　her。　Four　good　things　had　happened　to　her；　in　fact；　since　she　came　to　Misselthwaite　Manor。　　She　had　felt　as　if　she　had　understood　a　robin　and　that　he　had　understood　her；　she　had　run　in　the　wind　until　her　blood　had　grown　warm；　she　had　been　healthily　hungry　for　the　first　time　in　her　life；　and　she　had　found　out　what　it　was　to　be　sorry　for　some　one。

But　as　she　was　listening　to　the　wind　she　began　to　listen　to　something　else。　　She　did　not　know　what　it　was；　because　at　first　she　could　scarcely　distinguish　it　from　the　wind　itself。　　It　was　a　curious　soundit　seemed　almost　as　if　a　child　were　crying　somewhere。　　Sometimes　the　wind　sounded　rather　like　a　child　crying；　but　presently　Mistress　Mary　felt　quite　sure　this　sound　was　inside　the　house；　not　outside　it。　　It　was　far　away；　but　it　was　inside。　She　turned　round　and　looked　at　Martha。

〃Do　you　hear　any　one　crying？〃　she　said。

Martha　suddenly　looked　confused。

〃No；〃　she　answered。　　〃It's　th'　wind。　　Sometimes　it　sounds　like　as　if　some　one　was　lost　on　th'　moor　an'　wailin'。　It's　got　all　sorts　o'　sounds。〃

〃But　listen；〃　said　Mary。　　〃It's　in　the　housedown　one　of　those　long　corridors。〃

And　at　that　very　moment　a　door　must　have　been　opened　somewhere　downstairs；　for　a　great　rushing　draft　blew　along　the　passage　and　the　door　of　the　room　they　sat　in　was　blown　open　with　a　crash；　and　as　they　both　jumped　to　their　feet　the　light　was　blown　out　and　the　crying　sound　was　swept　down　the　far　corridor　so　that　it　was　to　be　heard　more　plainly　than　ever。

〃There！〃　said　Mary。　　〃I　told　you　so！　It　is　some　one　cryingand　it　isn't　a　grown…up　person。〃

Martha　ran　and　shut　the　door　and　turned　the　key；　but　before　she　did　it　they　both　heard　the　sound　of　a　door　in　some　far　passage　shutting　with　a　bang；　and　then　everything　was　quiet；　for　even　the　wind　ceased　〃wutherin'〃　for　a　few　moments。

〃It　was　th'　wind；〃　said　Martha　stubbornly。　〃An'　if　it　w