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- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
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“
In
the
garden
,
”
it
came
back
like
a
sound
from
a
golden
flute
.
“
In
the
garden
!
”
And
then
the
dream
ended
.
But
he
did
not
awaken
.
He
slept
soundly
and
sweetly
all
through
the
lovely
night
.
When
he
did
awake
at
last
it
was
brilliant
morning
and
a
servant
was
standing
staring
at
him
.
He
was
an
Italian
servant
and
was
accustomed
,
as
all
the
servants
of
the
villa
were
,
to
accepting
without
question
any
strange
thing
his
foreign
master
might
do
.
No
one
ever
knew
when
he
would
go
out
or
come
in
or
where
he
would
choose
to
sleep
or
if
he
would
roam
about
the
garden
or
lie
in
the
boat
on
the
lake
all
night
.
The
man
held
a
salver
with
some
letters
on
it
and
he
waited
quietly
until
Mr
.
Craven
took
them
.
When
he
had
gone
away
Mr
.
Craven
sat
a
few
moments
holding
them
in
his
hand
and
looking
at
the
lake
.
His
strange
calm
was
still
upon
him
and
something
more
—
a
lightness
as
if
the
cruel
thing
which
had
been
done
had
not
happened
as
he
thought
—
as
if
something
had
changed
.
He
was
remembering
the
dream
—
the
real
—
real
dream
.
“
In
the
garden
!
”
he
said
,
wondering
at
himself
.
“
In
the
garden
!
But
the
door
is
locked
and
the
key
is
buried
deep
.
”
When
he
glanced
at
the
letters
a
few
minutes
later
he
saw
that
the
one
lying
at
the
top
of
the
rest
was
an
English
letter
and
came
from
Yorkshire
.
It
was
directed
in
a
plain
woman
’
s
hand
but
it
was
not
a
hand
he
knew
.
He
opened
it
,
scarcely
thinking
of
the
writer
,
but
the
first
words
attracted
his
attention
at
once
.
“
Dear
Sir
:
I
am
Susan
Sowerby
that
made
bold
to
speak
to
you
once
on
the
moor
.
It
was
about
Miss
Mary
I
spoke
.
I
will
make
bold
to
speak
again
.
Please
,
sir
,
I
would
come
home
if
I
was
you
.
I
think
you
would
be
glad
to
come
and
—
if
you
will
excuse
me
,
sir
—
I
think
your
lady
would
ask
you
to
come
if
she
was
here
.
Your
obedient
servant
,
Susan
Sowerby
.
”
Mr
.
Craven
read
the
letter
twice
before
he
put
it
back
in
its
envelope
.
He
kept
thinking
about
the
dream
.
