English
MarytookthepicturebacktothehousewhenshewenttohersupperandsheshowedittoMartha.
“Eh!”saidMarthawithgreatpride.“IneverknewourDickonwasascleverasthat.Thatthere’sapictureofamisselthrushonhernest,aslargeaslifean’twiceasnatural.”
ThenMaryknewDickonhadmeantthepicturetobeamessage.
Hehadmeantthatshemightbesurehewouldkeephersecret.
Hergardenwashernestandshewaslikeamisselthrush.
Oh,howshedidlikethatqueer,commonboy!
Shehopedhewouldcomebacktheverynextdayandshefellasleeplookingforwardtothemorning.
ButyouneverknowwhattheweatherwilldoinYorkshire,particularlyinthespringtime.
Shewasawakenedinthenightbythesoundofrainbeatingwithheavydropsagainstherwindow.
Itwaspouringdownintorrentsandthewindwas“wuthering”roundthecornersandinthechimneysofthehugeoldhouse.
Marysatupinbedandfeltmiserableandangry.
“TherainisascontraryasIeverwas,”shesaid.“ItcamebecauseitknewIdidnotwantit.”
Shethrewherselfbackonherpillowandburiedherface.
Shedidnotcry,butshelayandhatedthesoundoftheheavilybeatingrain,shehatedthewindandits“wuthering.”Shecouldnotgotosleepagain.
Themournfulsoundkeptherawakebecauseshefeltmournfulherself.
Ifshehadfelthappyitwouldprobablyhavelulledhertosleep.
Howit“wuthered”andhowthebigraindropspoureddownandbeatagainstthepane!
“Itsoundsjustlikeapersonlostonthemoorandwanderingonandoncrying,”shesaid.
Shehadbeenlyingawaketurningfromsidetosideforaboutanhour,whensuddenlysomethingmadehersitupinbedandturnherheadtowardthedoorlistening.Shelistenedandshelistened.
“Itisn’tthewindnow,”shesaidinaloudwhisper.“Thatisn’tthewind.Itisdifferent.ItisthatcryingIheardbefore.”
Thedoorofherroomwasajarandthesoundcamedownthecorridor,afar-offfaintsoundoffretfulcrying.
Shelistenedforafewminutesandeachminuteshebecamemoreandmoresure.
Shefeltasifshemustfindoutwhatitwas.
Itseemedevenstrangerthanthesecretgardenandtheburiedkey.
Perhapsthefactthatshewasinarebelliousmoodmadeherbold.
Sheputherfootoutofbedandstoodonthefloor.
“Iamgoingtofindoutwhatitis,”shesaid.“EverybodyisinbedandIdon’tcareaboutMrs.Medlock—Idon’tcare!”
Therewasacandlebyherbedsideandshetookitupandwentsoftlyoutoftheroom.
Thecorridorlookedverylonganddark,butshewastooexcitedtomindthat.
Shethoughtsherememberedthecornersshemustturntofindtheshortcorridorwiththedoorcoveredwithtapestry—theoneMrs.Medlockhadcomethroughthedayshelostherself.Thesoundhadcomeupthatpassage.
Soshewentonwithherdimlight,almostfeelingherway,herheartbeatingsoloudthatshefanciedshecouldhearit.
Thefar-offfaintcryingwentonandledher.
Sometimesitstoppedforamomentorsoandthenbeganagain.Wasthistherightcornertoturn?Shestoppedandthought.Yesitwas.
Downthispassageandthentotheleft,andthenuptwobroadsteps,andthentotherightagain.Yes,therewasthetapestrydoor.
Shepusheditopenverygentlyandcloseditbehindher,andshestoodinthecorridorandcouldhearthecryingquiteplainly,thoughitwasnotloud.
Itwasontheothersideofthewallatherleftandafewyardsfartherontherewasadoor.
Shecouldseeaglimmeroflightcomingfrombeneathit.
TheSomeonewascryinginthatroom,anditwasquiteayoungSomeone.
Soshewalkedtothedoorandpusheditopen,andthereshewasstandingintheroom!
Itwasabigroomwithancient,handsomefurnitureinit.
Therewasalowfireglowingfaintlyonthehearthandanightlightburningbythesideofacarvedfour-postedbedhungwithbrocade,andonthebedwaslyingaboy,cryingfretfully.
Marywonderedifshewasinarealplaceorifshehadfallenasleepagainandwasdreamingwithoutknowingit.
Theboyhadasharp,delicatefacethecolorofivoryandheseemedtohaveeyestoobigforit.
Hehadalsoalotofhairwhichtumbledoverhisforeheadinheavylocksandmadehisthinfaceseemsmaller.
Helookedlikeaboywhohadbeenill,buthewascryingmoreasifheweretiredandcrossthanasifhewereinpain.
Marystoodnearthedoorwithhercandleinherhand,holdingherbreath.
Thenshecreptacrosstheroom,and,asshedrewnearer,thelightattractedtheboy’sattentionandheturnedhisheadonhispillowandstaredather,hisgrayeyesopeningsowidethattheyseemedimmense.
“Whoareyou?”hesaidatlastinahalf-frightenedwhisper.“Areyouaghost?”
“No,Iamnot,”Maryanswered,herownwhispersoundinghalffrightened.“Areyouone?”
Hestaredandstaredandstared.Marycouldnothelpnoticingwhatstrangeeyeshehad.Theywereagategrayandtheylookedtoobigforhisfacebecausetheyhadblacklashesallroundthem.
“No,”herepliedafterwaitingamomentorso.“IamColin.”
“WhoisColin?”shefaltered.
“IamColinCraven.Whoareyou?”
“IamMaryLennox.Mr.Cravenismyuncle.”
“Heismyfather,”saidtheboy.
“Yourfather!”gaspedMary.“Nooneevertoldmehehadaboy!Whydidn’tthey?”
“Comehere,”hesaid,stillkeepinghisstrangeeyesfixedonherwithananxiousexpression.
Shecameclosetothebedandheputouthishandandtouchedher.
“Youarereal,aren’tyou?”hesaid.“Ihavesuchrealdreamsveryoften.Youmightbeoneofthem.”
Maryhadslippedonawoolenwrapperbeforesheleftherroomandsheputapieceofitbetweenhisfingers.
“Rubthatandseehowthickandwarmitis,”shesaid.“Iwillpinchyoualittleifyoulike,toshowyouhowrealIam.ForaminuteIthoughtyoumightbeadreamtoo.”
“Wheredidyoucomefrom?”heasked.
“Frommyownroom.ThewindwutheredsoIcouldn’tgotosleepandIheardsomeonecryingandwantedtofindoutwhoitwas.Whatwereyoucryingfor?”
“BecauseIcouldn’tgotosleepeitherandmyheadached.Tellmeyournameagain.”
“MaryLennox.DidnooneevertellyouIhadcometolivehere?”
Hewasstillfingeringthefoldofherwrapper,buthebegantolookalittlemoreasifhebelievedinherreality.
“No,”heanswered.“Theydaren’t.”
“Why?”askedMary.
“BecauseIshouldhavebeenafraidyouwouldseeme.Iwon’tletpeopleseemeandtalkmeover.”
“Why?”Maryaskedagain,feelingmoremystifiedeverymoment.
“BecauseIamlikethisalways,illandhavingtoliedown.
Myfatherwon’tletpeopletalkmeovereither.
Theservantsarenotallowedtospeakaboutme.
IfIliveImaybeahunchback,butIshan’tlive.
MyfatherhatestothinkImaybelikehim.”
“Oh,whataqueerhousethisis!”Marysaid.“Whataqueerhouse!Everythingisakindofsecret.Roomsarelockedupandgardensarelockedup—andyou!Haveyoubeenlockedup?”
“No.IstayinthisroombecauseIdon’twanttobemovedoutofit.Ittiresmetoomuch.”
“Doesyourfathercomeandseeyou?”Maryventured.
“Sometimes.GenerallywhenIamasleep.Hedoesn’twanttoseeme.”
“Why?”Marycouldnothelpaskingagain.
Asortofangryshadowpassedovertheboy’sface.
“MymotherdiedwhenIwasbornanditmakeshimwretchedtolookatme.HethinksIdon’tknow,butI’veheardpeopletalking.Healmosthatesme.”
“Hehatesthegarden,becauseshedied,”saidMaryhalfspeakingtoherself.
“Whatgarden?”theboyasked.
“Oh!just—justagardensheusedtolike,”Marystammered.“Haveyoubeenherealways?”“Nearlyalways.
SometimesIhavebeentakentoplacesattheseaside,butIwon’tstaybecausepeoplestareatme.
Iusedtowearanironthingtokeepmybackstraight,butagranddoctorcamefromLondontoseemeandsaiditwasstupid.
Hetoldthemtotakeitoffandkeepmeoutinthefreshair.
IhatefreshairandIdon’twanttogoout.”
“Ididn’twhenfirstIcamehere,”saidMary.“Whydoyoukeeplookingatmelikethat?”
“Becauseofthedreamsthataresoreal,”heansweredratherfretfully.“SometimeswhenIopenmyeyesIdon’tbelieveI’mawake.”
“We’rebothawake,”saidMary.Sheglancedroundtheroomwithitshighceilingandshadowycornersanddimfire-light.
“Itlooksquitelikeadream,andit’sthemiddleofthenight,andeverybodyinthehouseisasleep—everybodybutus.Wearewideawake.”
“Idon’twantittobeadream,”theboysaidrestlessly.
Marythoughtofsomethingallatonce.
“Ifyoudon’tlikepeopletoseeyou,”shebegan,“doyouwantmetogoaway?”
Hestillheldthefoldofherwrapperandhegaveitalittlepull.
“No,”hesaid.“Ishouldbesureyouwereadreamifyouwent.Ifyouarereal,sitdownonthatbigfootstoolandtalk.Iwanttohearaboutyou.”
Maryputdownhercandleonthetablenearthebedandsatdownonthecushionedstool.Shedidnotwanttogoawayatall.
Shewantedtostayinthemysterioushidden-awayroomandtalktothemysteriousboy.
“Whatdoyouwantmetotellyou?”shesaid.
HewantedtoknowhowlongshehadbeenatMisselthwaite;hewantedtoknowwhichcorridorherroomwason;hewantedtoknowwhatshehadbeendoing;ifshedislikedthemoorashedislikedit;whereshehadlivedbeforeshecametoYorkshire.
Sheansweredallthesequestionsandmanymoreandhelaybackonhispillowandlistened.
HemadehertellhimagreatdealaboutIndiaandabouthervoyageacrosstheocean.
Shefoundoutthatbecausehehadbeenaninvalidhehadnotlearnedthingsasotherchildrenhad.
Oneofhisnurseshadtaughthimtoreadwhenhewasquitelittleandhewasalwaysreadingandlookingatpicturesinsplendidbooks.
Thoughhisfatherrarelysawhimwhenhewasawake,hewasgivenallsortsofwonderfulthingstoamusehimselfwith.
Heneverseemedtohavebeenamused,however.
Hecouldhaveanythingheaskedforandwasnevermadetodoanythinghedidnotliketodo.
“Everyoneisobligedtodowhatpleasesme,”hesaidindifferently.“Itmakesmeilltobeangry.
NoonebelievesIshalllivetogrowup.”
Hesaiditasifhewassoaccustomedtotheideathatithadceasedtomattertohimatall.
HeseemedtolikethesoundofMary’svoice.
Asshewentontalkinghelistenedinadrowsy,interestedway.
Onceortwiceshewonderedifhewerenotgraduallyfallingintoadoze.
Butatlastheaskedaquestionwhichopenedupanewsubject.
“Howoldareyou?”heasked.
“Iamten,”answeredMary,forgettingherselfforthemoment,“andsoareyou.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”hedemandedinasurprisedvoice.
“Becausewhenyouwerebornthegardendoorwaslockedandthekeywasburied.Andithasbeenlockedfortenyears.”
Colinhalfsatup,turningtowardher,leaningonhiselbows.
“Whatgardendoorwaslocked?Whodidit?Wherewasthekeyburied?”heexclaimedasifheweresuddenlyverymuchinterested.
“It—itwasthegardenMr.Cravenhates,”saidMarynervously.“Helockedthedoor.Noone—nooneknewwhereheburiedthekey.”“Whatsortofagardenisit?”Colinpersistedeagerly.
“Noonehasbeenallowedtogointoitfortenyears,”wasMary’scarefulanswer.
Butitwastoolatetobecareful.Hewastoomuchlikeherself.
Hetoohadhadnothingtothinkaboutandtheideaofahiddengardenattractedhimasithadattractedher.Heaskedquestionafterquestion.Wherewasit?Hadsheneverlookedforthedoor?Hadsheneveraskedthegardeners?
“Theywon’ttalkaboutit,”saidMary.“Ithinktheyhavebeentoldnottoanswerquestions.”
“Iwouldmakethem,”saidColin.
“Couldyou?”Maryfaltered,beginningtofeelfrightened.Ifhecouldmakepeopleanswerquestions,whoknewwhatmighthappen!
“Everyoneisobligedtopleaseme.Itoldyouthat,”hesaid.“IfIweretolive,thisplacewouldsometimebelongtome.Theyallknowthat.Iwouldmakethemtellme.”
Maryhadnotknownthatsheherselfhadbeenspoiled,butshecouldseequiteplainlythatthismysteriousboyhadbeen.
Hethoughtthatthewholeworldbelongedtohim.
Howpeculiarhewasandhowcoollyhespokeofnotliving.
“Doyouthinkyouwon’tlive?”sheasked,partlybecauseshewascuriousandpartlyinhopeofmakinghimforgetthegarden.
“Idon’tsupposeIshall,”heansweredasindifferentlyashehadspokenbefore.
“EversinceIrememberanythingIhaveheardpeoplesayIshan’t.
AtfirsttheythoughtIwastoolittletounderstandandnowtheythinkIdon’thear.ButIdo.Mydoctorismyfather’scousin.
HeisquitepoorandifIdiehewillhaveallMisselthwaitewhenmyfatherisdead.
Ishouldthinkhewouldn’twantmetolive.”
“Doyouwanttolive?”inquiredMary.
“No,”heanswered,inacross,tiredfashion.“ButIdon’twanttodie.WhenIfeelillIliehereandthinkaboutituntilIcryandcry.”
“Ihaveheardyoucryingthreetimes,”Marysaid,“butIdidnotknowwhoitwas.Wereyoucryingaboutthat?”Shedidsowanthimtoforgetthegarden.
“Idaresay,”heanswered.“Letustalkaboutsomethingelse.Talkaboutthatgarden.Don’tyouwanttoseeit?”
“Yes,”answeredMary,inquitealowvoice.
“Ido,”hewentonpersistently.“Idon’tthinkIeverreallywantedtoseeanythingbefore,butIwanttoseethatgarden.Iwantthekeydugup.Iwantthedoorunlocked.
Iwouldletthemtakemethereinmychair.Thatwouldbegettingfreshair.Iamgoingtomakethemopenthedoor.”
Hehadbecomequiteexcitedandhisstrangeeyesbegantoshinelikestarsandlookedmoreimmensethanever.
“Theyhavetopleaseme,”hesaid.“IwillmakethemtakemethereandIwillletyougo,too.”
Mary’shandsclutchedeachother.Everythingwouldbespoiled—everything!Dickonwouldnevercomeback.Shewouldneveragainfeellikeamisselthrushwithasafe-hiddennest.
“Oh,don’t—don’t—don’t—don’tdothat!”shecriedout.
Hestaredasifhethoughtshehadgonecrazy!
“Why?”heexclaimed.“Yousaidyouwantedtoseeit.”
“Ido,”sheansweredalmostwithasobinherthroat,“butifyoumakethemopenthedoorandtakeyouinlikethatitwillneverbeasecretagain.”
Heleanedstillfartherforward.
“Asecret,”hesaid.“Whatdoyoumean?Tellme.”
Mary’swordsalmosttumbledoveroneanother.
“Yousee—yousee,”shepanted,“ifnooneknowsbutourselves—iftherewasadoor,hiddensomewhereundertheivy—iftherewas—andwecouldfindit;andifwecouldslipthroughittogetherandshutitbehindus,andnooneknewanyonewasinsideandwecalleditourgardenandpretendedthat—thatweweremisselthrushesanditwasournest,andifweplayedtherealmosteverydayanddugandplantedseedsandmadeitallcomealive—”
“Isitdead?”heinterruptedher.
“Itsoonwillbeifnoonecaresforit,”shewenton.“Thebulbswilllivebuttheroses—”
Hestoppedheragainasexcitedasshewasherself.
“Whatarebulbs?”heputinquickly.
“Theyaredaffodilsandliliesandsnowdrops.Theyareworkingintheearthnow—pushinguppalegreenpointsbecausethespringiscoming.”
“Isthespringcoming?”hesaid.“Whatisitlike?Youdon’tseeitinroomsifyouareill.”
“Itisthesunshiningontherainandtherainfallingonthesunshine,andthingspushingupandworkingundertheearth,”saidMary.
“Ifthegardenwasasecretandwecouldgetintoitwecouldwatchthethingsgrowbiggereveryday,andseehowmanyrosesarealive.Don’tyou.see?
Oh,don’tyouseehowmuchniceritwouldbeifitwasasecret?”
Hedroppedbackonhispillowandlaytherewithanoddexpressiononhisface.
“Ineverhadasecret,”hesaid,“exceptthatoneaboutnotlivingtogrowup.Theydon’tknowIknowthat,soitisasortofsecret.ButIlikethiskindbetter.”
“Ifyouwon’tmakethemtakeyoutothegarden,”pleadedMary,“perhaps—IfeelalmostsureIcanfindouthowtogetinsometime.
Andthen—ifthedoctorwantsyoutogooutinyourchair,andifyoucanalwaysdowhatyouwanttodo,perhaps—perhapswemightfindsomeboywhowouldpushyou,andwecouldgoaloneanditwouldalwaysbeasecretgarden.”
“Ishould—like—that,”hesaidveryslowly,hiseyeslookingdreamy.“Ishouldlikethat.Ishouldnotmindfreshairinasecretgarden.”
Marybegantorecoverherbreathandfeelsaferbecausetheideaofkeepingthesecretseemedtopleasehim.
Shefeltalmostsurethatifshekeptontalkingandcouldmakehimseethegardeninhismindasshehadseenithewouldlikeitsomuchthathecouldnotbeartothinkthateverybodymighttrampintoitwhentheychose.
“I’lltellyouwhatIthinkitwouldbelike,ifwecouldgointoit,”shesaid.“Ithasbeenshutupsolongthingshavegrownintoatangleperhaps.”
Helayquitestillandlistenedwhileshewentontalkingabouttheroseswhichmighthaveclamberedfromtreetotreeandhungdown—aboutthemanybirdswhichmighthavebuilttheirneststherebecauseitwassosafe.
AndthenshetoldhimabouttherobinandBenWeatherstaff,andtherewassomuchtotellabouttherobinanditwassoeasyandsafetotalkaboutitthatsheceasedtobeafraid.
Therobinpleasedhimsomuchthathesmileduntilhelookedalmostbeautiful,andatfirstMaryhadthoughtthathewasevenplainerthanherself,withhisbigeyesandheavylocksofhair.
“Ididnotknowbirdscouldbelikethat,”hesaid.“Butifyoustayinaroomyouneverseethings.Whatalotofthingsyouknow.Ifeelasifyouhadbeeninsidethatgarden.”
Shedidnotknowwhattosay,soshedidnotsayanything.Heevidentlydidnotexpectananswerandthenextmomenthegaveherasurprise.
“Iamgoingtoletyoulookatsomething,”hesaid.“Doyouseethatrose-coloredsilkcurtainhangingonthewalloverthemantel-piece?”
Maryhadnotnoticeditbefore,butshelookedupandsawit.Itwasacurtainofsoftsilkhangingoverwhatseemedtobesomepicture.
“Yes,”sheanswered.
“Thereisacordhangingfromit,”saidColin.“Goandpullit.”
Marygotup,muchmystified,andfoundthecord.
Whenshepulleditthesilkcurtainranbackonringsandwhenitranbackituncoveredapicture.
Itwasthepictureofagirlwithalaughingface.
Shehadbrighthairtiedupwithablueribbonandhergay,lovelyeyeswereexactlylikeColin’sunhappyones,agategrayandlookingtwiceasbigastheyreallywerebecauseoftheblacklashesallroundthem.
“Sheismymother,”saidColincomplainingly.“Idon’tseewhyshedied.SometimesIhateherfordoingit.”
“Howqueer!”saidMary.
“IfshehadlivedIbelieveIshouldnothavebeenillalways,”hegrumbled.“IdaresayIshouldhavelived,too.
Andmyfatherwouldnothavehatedtolookatme.
IdaresayIshouldhavehadastrongback.Drawthecurtainagain.”
Marydidasshewastoldandreturnedtoherfootstool.
“Sheismuchprettierthanyou,”shesaid,“buthereyesarejustlikeyours—atleasttheyarethesameshapeandcolor.Whyisthecurtaindrawnoverher?”
Hemoveduncomfortably.
“Imadethemdoit,”hesaid.“SometimesIdon’tliketoseeherlookingatme.
ShesmilestoomuchwhenIamillandmiserable.
Besides,sheismineandIdon’twanteveryonetoseeher.”
TherewereafewmomentsofsilenceandthenMaryspoke.
“WhatwouldMrs.MedlockdoifshefoundoutthatIhadbeenhere?”sheinquired.
“ShewoulddoasItoldhertodo,”heanswered.“AndIshouldtellherthatIwantedyoutocomehereandtalktomeeveryday.Iamgladyoucame.”
“SoamI,”saidMary.“IwillcomeasoftenasIcan,but”—shehesitated—”Ishallhavetolookeverydayforthegardendoor.”
“Yes,youmust,”saidColin,“andyoucantellmeaboutitafterward.”
Helaythinkingafewminutes,ashehaddonebefore,andthenhespokeagain.
“Ithinkyoushallbeasecret,too,”hesaid.“Iwillnottellthemuntiltheyfindout.IcanalwayssendthenurseoutoftheroomandsaythatIwanttobebymyself.DoyouknowMartha?”
“Yes,Iknowherverywell,”saidMary.“Shewaitsonme.”
Henoddedhisheadtowardtheoutercorridor.
“Sheistheonewhoisasleepintheotherroom.
ThenursewentawayyesterdaytostayallnightwithhersisterandshealwaysmakesMarthaattendtomewhenshewantstogoout.
Marthashalltellyouwhentocomehere.”
ThenMaryunderstoodMartha’stroubledlookwhenshehadaskedquestionsaboutthecrying.
“Marthaknewaboutyouallthetime?”shesaid.
“Yes;sheoftenattendstome.ThenurselikestogetawayfrommeandthenMarthacomes.”
“Ihavebeenherealongtime,”saidMary.“ShallIgoawaynow?Youreyeslooksleepy.”
“IwishIcouldgotosleepbeforeyouleaveme,”hesaidrathershyly.
“Shutyoureyes,”saidMary,drawingherfootstoolcloser,“andIwilldowhatmyAyahusedtodoinIndia.Iwillpatyourhandandstrokeitandsingsomethingquitelow.”
“Ishouldlikethatperhaps,”hesaiddrowsily.
Somehowshewassorryforhimanddidnotwanthimtolieawake,sosheleanedagainstthebedandbegantostrokeandpathishandandsingaverylowlittlechantingsonginHindustani.
“Thatisnice,”hesaidmoredrowsilystill,andshewentonchantingandstroking,butwhenshelookedathimagainhisblacklasheswerelyingcloseagainsthischeeks,forhiseyeswereshutandhewasfastasleep.
Soshegotupsoftly,tookhercandleandcreptawaywithoutmakingasound.
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