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- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
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“
Oh
!
is
it
—
is
it
!
”
gasped
Colin
.
“
And
here
is
the
handle
,
and
here
is
the
door
.
Dickon
push
him
in
—
push
him
in
quickly
!
”
And
Dickon
did
it
with
one
strong
,
steady
,
splendid
push
.
But
Colin
had
actually
dropped
back
against
his
cushions
,
even
though
he
gasped
with
delight
,
and
he
had
covered
his
eyes
with
his
hands
and
held
them
there
shutting
out
everything
until
they
were
inside
and
the
chair
stopped
as
if
by
magic
and
the
door
was
closed
.
Not
till
then
did
he
take
them
away
and
look
round
and
round
and
round
as
Dickon
and
Mary
had
done
.
And
over
walls
and
earth
and
trees
and
swinging
sprays
and
tendrils
the
fair
green
veil
of
tender
little
leaves
had
crept
,
and
in
the
grass
under
the
trees
and
the
gray
urns
in
the
alcoves
and
here
and
there
everywhere
were
touches
or
splashes
of
gold
and
purple
and
white
and
the
trees
were
showing
pink
and
snow
above
his
head
and
there
were
fluttering
of
wings
and
faint
sweet
pipes
and
humming
and
scents
and
scents
.
And
the
sun
fell
warm
upon
his
face
like
a
hand
with
a
lovely
touch
.
And
in
wonder
Mary
and
Dickon
stood
and
stared
at
him
.
He
looked
so
strange
and
different
because
a
pink
glow
of
color
had
actually
crept
all
over
him
—
ivory
face
and
neck
and
hands
and
all
.
“
I
shall
get
well
!
I
shall
get
well
!
”
he
cried
out
.
“
Mary
!
Dickon
!
I
shall
get
well
!
And
I
shall
live
forever
and
ever
and
ever
!
”
One
of
the
strange
things
about
living
in
the
world
is
that
it
is
only
now
and
then
one
is
quite
sure
one
is
going
to
live
forever
and
ever
and
ever
.
One
knows
it
sometimes
when
one
gets
up
at
the
tender
solemn
dawn
-
time
and
goes
out
and
stands
alone
and
throws
one
’
s
head
far
back
and
looks
up
and
up
and
watches
the
pale
sky
slowly
changing
and
flushing
and
marvelous
unknown
things
happening
until
the
East
almost
makes
one
cry
out
and
one
’
s
heart
stands
still
at
the
strange
unchanging
majesty
of
the
rising
of
the
sun
—
which
has
been
happening
every
morning
for
thousands
and
thousands
and
thousands
of
years
.
One
knows
it
then
for
a
moment
or
so
.
And
one
knows
it
sometimes
when
one
stands
by
oneself
in
a
wood
at
sunset
and
the
mysterious
deep
gold
stillness
slanting
through
and
under
the
branches
seems
to
be
saying
slowly
again
and
again
something
one
cannot
quite
hear
,
however
much
one
tries
.
Then
sometimes
the
immense
quiet
of
the
dark
blue
at
night
with
millions
of
stars
waiting
and
watching
makes
one
sure
;
and
sometimes
a
sound
of
far
-
off
music
makes
it
true
;
and
sometimes
a
look
in
someone
’
s
eyes
.
And
it
was
like
that
with
Colin
when
he
first
saw
and
heard
and
felt
the
Springtime
inside
the
four
high
walls
of
a
hidden
garden
.
That
afternoon
the
whole
world
seemed
to
devote
itself
to
being
perfect
and
radiantly
beautiful
and
kind
to
one
boy
.
Perhaps
out
of
pure
heavenly
goodness
the
spring
came
and
crowned
everything
it
possibly
could
into
that
one
place
.
More
than
once
Dickon
paused
in
what
he
was
doing
and
stood
still
with
a
sort
of
growing
wonder
in
his
eyes
,
shaking
his
head
softly
.
“
Eh
!
it
is
graidely
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
’
m
twelve
goin
’
on
thirteen
an
’
there
’
s
a
lot
o
’
afternoons
in
thirteen
years
,
but
seems
to
me
like
I
never
seed
one
as
graidely
as
this
’
ere
.
”
“
Aye
,
it
is
a
graidely
one
,
”
said
Mary
,
and
she
sighed
for
mere
joy
.
“
I
’
ll
warrant
it
’
s
the
graidelest
one
as
ever
was
in
this
world
.
”
“
Does
tha
’
think
,
”
said
Colin
with
dreamy
carefulness
,
“
as
happen
it
was
made
loike
this
’
ere
all
o
’
purpose
for
me
?
”
