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While
the
secret
garden
was
coming
alive
and
two
children
were
coming
alive
with
it
,
there
was
a
man
wandering
about
certain
far
-
away
beautiful
places
in
the
Norwegian
fiords
and
the
valleys
and
mountains
of
Switzerland
and
he
was
a
man
who
for
ten
years
had
kept
his
mind
filled
with
dark
and
heart
-
broken
thinking
.
He
had
not
been
courageous
;
he
had
never
tried
to
put
any
other
thoughts
in
the
place
of
the
dark
ones
.
He
had
wandered
by
blue
lakes
and
thought
them
;
he
had
lain
on
mountain
-
sides
with
sheets
of
deep
blue
gentians
blooming
all
about
him
and
flower
breaths
filling
all
the
air
and
he
had
thought
them
.
A
terrible
sorrow
had
fallen
upon
him
when
he
had
been
happy
and
he
had
let
his
soul
fill
itself
with
blackness
and
had
refused
obstinately
to
allow
any
rift
of
light
to
pierce
through
.
He
had
forgotten
and
deserted
his
home
and
his
duties
.
When
he
traveled
about
,
darkness
so
brooded
over
him
that
the
sight
of
him
was
a
wrong
done
to
other
people
because
it
was
as
if
he
poisoned
the
air
about
him
with
gloom
.
Most
strangers
thought
he
must
be
either
half
mad
or
a
man
with
some
hidden
crime
on
his
soul
.
He
,
was
a
tall
man
with
a
drawn
face
and
crooked
shoulders
and
the
name
he
always
entered
on
hotel
registers
was
,
“
Archibald
Craven
,
Misselthwaite
Manor
,
Yorkshire
,
England
.
”
He
had
traveled
far
and
wide
since
the
day
he
saw
Mistress
Mary
in
his
study
and
told
her
she
might
have
her
“
bit
of
earth
.
”
He
had
been
in
the
most
beautiful
places
in
Europe
,
though
he
had
remained
nowhere
more
than
a
few
days
.
He
had
chosen
the
quietest
and
remotest
spots
.
He
had
been
on
the
tops
of
mountains
whose
heads
were
in
the
clouds
and
had
looked
down
on
other
mountains
when
the
sun
rose
and
touched
them
with
such
light
as
made
it
seem
as
if
the
world
were
just
being
born
.
But
the
light
had
never
seemed
to
touch
himself
until
one
day
when
he
realized
that
for
the
first
time
in
ten
years
a
strange
thing
had
happened
.
He
was
in
a
wonderful
valley
in
the
Austrian
Tyrol
and
he
had
been
walking
alone
through
such
beauty
as
might
have
lifted
,
any
man
’
s
soul
out
of
shadow
.
He
had
walked
a
long
way
and
it
had
not
lifted
his
.
But
at
last
he
had
felt
tired
and
had
thrown
himself
down
to
rest
on
a
carpet
of
moss
by
a
stream
.
It
was
a
clear
little
stream
which
ran
quite
merrily
along
on
its
narrow
way
through
the
luscious
damp
greenness
.
Sometimes
it
made
a
sound
rather
like
very
low
laughter
as
it
bubbled
over
and
round
stones
.
He
saw
birds
come
and
dip
their
heads
to
drink
in
it
and
then
flick
their
wings
and
fly
away
.
It
seemed
like
a
thing
alive
and
yet
its
tiny
voice
made
the
stillness
seem
deeper
.
The
valley
was
very
,
very
still
.
As
he
sat
gazing
into
the
clear
running
of
the
water
,
Archibald
Craven
gradually
felt
his
mind
and
body
both
grow
quiet
,
as
quiet
as
the
valley
itself
.
He
wondered
if
he
were
going
to
sleep
,
but
he
was
not
.
He
sat
and
gazed
at
the
sunlit
water
and
his
eyes
began
to
see
things
growing
at
its
edge
.
There
was
one
lovely
mass
of
blue
forget
-
me
-
nots
growing
so
close
to
the
stream
that
its
leaves
were
wet
and
at
these
he
found
himself
looking
as
he
remembered
he
had
looked
at
such
things
years
ago
.
He
was
actually
thinking
tenderly
how
lovely
it
was
and
what
wonders
of
blue
its
hundreds
of
little
blossoms
were
.
He
did
not
know
that
just
that
simple
thought
was
slowly
filling
his
mind
—
filling
and
filling
it
until
other
things
were
softly
pushed
aside
.
It
was
as
if
a
sweet
clear
spring
had
begun
to
rise
in
a
stagnant
pool
and
had
risen
and
risen
until
at
last
it
swept
the
dark
water
away
.
But
of
course
he
did
not
think
of
this
himself
.
He
only
knew
that
the
valley
seemed
to
grow
quieter
and
quieter
as
he
sat
and
stared
at
the
bright
delicate
blueness
.
He
did
not
know
how
long
he
sat
there
or
what
was
happening
to
him
,
but
at
last
he
moved
as
if
he
were
awakening
and
he
got
up
slowly
and
stood
on
the
moss
carpet
,
drawing
a
long
,
deep
,
soft
breath
and
wondering
at
himself
.
Something
seemed
to
have
been
unbound
and
released
in
him
,
very
quietly
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
he
said
,
almost
in
a
whisper
,
and
he
passed
his
hand
over
his
forehead
.
“
I
almost
feel
as
if
—
I
were
alive
!
”
I
do
not
know
enough
about
the
wonderfulness
of
undiscovered
things
to
be
able
to
explain
how
this
had
happened
to
him
.
Neither
does
anyone
else
yet
.
He
did
not
understand
at
all
himself
—
but
he
remembered
this
strange
hour
months
afterward
when
he
was
at
Misselthwaite
again
and
he
found
out
quite
by
accident
that
on
this
very
day
Colin
had
cried
out
as
he
went
into
the
secret
garden
:
“
I
am
going
to
live
forever
and
ever
and
ever
!
”
The
singular
calmness
remained
with
him
the
rest
of
the
evening
and
he
slept
a
new
reposeful
sleep
;
but
it
was
not
with
him
very
long
.
He
did
not
know
that
it
could
be
kept
.
