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- Фрэнсис Бёрнетт
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- Таинственный сад
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- Стр. 231/235
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“
If
he
took
his
food
natural
,
sir
,
you
’
d
think
he
was
putting
on
flesh
—
but
we
’
re
afraid
it
may
be
a
sort
of
bloat
.
He
laughs
sometimes
in
a
queer
way
when
he
’
s
alone
with
Miss
Mary
.
He
never
used
to
laugh
at
all
.
Dr
.
Craven
is
coming
to
see
you
at
once
,
if
you
’
ll
allow
him
.
He
never
was
as
puzzled
in
his
life
.
”
“
Where
is
Master
Colin
now
?
”
Mr
.
Craven
asked
.
“
In
the
garden
,
sir
.
He
’
s
always
in
the
garden
—
though
not
a
human
creature
is
allowed
to
go
near
for
fear
they
’
ll
look
at
him
.
”
Mr
.
Craven
scarcely
heard
her
last
words
.
“
In
the
garden
,
”
he
said
,
and
after
he
had
sent
Mrs
.
Medlock
away
he
stood
and
repeated
it
again
and
again
.
“
In
the
garden
!
”
He
had
to
make
an
effort
to
bring
himself
back
to
the
place
he
was
standing
in
and
when
he
felt
he
was
on
earth
again
he
turned
and
went
out
of
the
room
.
He
took
his
way
,
as
Mary
had
done
,
through
the
door
in
the
shrubbery
and
among
the
laurels
and
the
fountain
beds
.
The
fountain
was
playing
now
and
was
encircled
by
beds
of
brilliant
autumn
flowers
.
He
crossed
the
lawn
and
turned
into
the
Long
Walk
by
the
ivied
walls
.
He
did
not
walk
quickly
,
but
slowly
,
and
his
eyes
were
on
the
path
.
He
felt
as
if
he
were
being
drawn
back
to
the
place
he
had
so
long
forsaken
,
and
he
did
not
know
why
.
As
he
drew
near
to
it
his
step
became
still
more
slow
.
He
knew
where
the
door
was
even
though
the
ivy
hung
thick
over
it
—
but
he
did
not
know
exactly
where
it
lay
—
that
buried
key
.
So
he
stopped
and
stood
still
,
looking
about
him
,
and
almost
the
moment
after
he
had
paused
he
started
and
listened
—
asking
himself
if
he
were
walking
in
a
dream
.
The
ivy
hung
thick
over
the
door
,
the
key
was
buried
under
the
shrubs
,
no
human
being
had
passed
that
portal
for
ten
lonely
years
—
and
yet
inside
the
garden
there
were
sounds
.
They
were
the
sounds
of
running
scuffling
feet
seeming
to
chase
round
and
round
under
the
trees
,
they
were
strange
sounds
of
lowered
suppressed
voices
—
exclamations
and
smothered
joyous
cries
.
It
seemed
actually
like
the
laughter
of
young
things
,
the
uncontrollable
laughter
of
children
who
were
trying
not
to
be
heard
but
who
in
a
moment
or
so
—
as
their
excitement
mounted
—
would
burst
forth
.
What
in
heaven
’
s
name
was
he
dreaming
of
—
what
in
heaven
’
s
name
did
he
hear
?
Was
he
losing
his
reason
and
thinking
he
heard
things
which
were
not
for
human
ears
?
Was
it
that
the
far
clear
voice
had
meant
?
And
then
the
moment
came
,
the
uncontrollable
moment
when
the
sounds
forgot
to
hush
themselves
.
