XI. The Nest Of The Missel Thrush
Fortwoorthreeminuteshestoodlookingroundhim,whileMarywatchedhim,andthenhebegantowalkaboutsoftly,evenmorelightlythanMaryhadwalkedthefirsttimeshehadfoundherselfinsidethefourwalls.Hiseyesseemedtobetakingineverything—thegraytreeswiththegraycreepersclimbingoverthemandhangingfromtheirbranches,thetangleonthewallsandamongthegrass,theevergreenalcoveswiththestoneseatsandtallflowerurnsstandinginthem.
“IneverthoughtI’dseethisplace,”hesaidatlast,inawhisper.
“Didyouknowaboutit?”askedMary.
Shehadspokenaloudandhemadeasigntoher.
“Wemusttalklow,”hesaid,“orsomeone’llhearusan’wonderwhat’stodoinhere.”
“Oh!Iforgot!”saidMary,feelingfrightenedandputtingherhandquicklyagainsthermouth.“Didyouknowaboutthegarden?”sheaskedagainwhenshehadrecoveredherself.
Dickonnodded.
“Marthatoldmetherewasoneasnooneeverwentinside,”heanswered.“Ususedtowonderwhatitwaslike.”
Hestoppedandlookedroundatthelovelygraytangleabouthim,andhisroundeyeslookedqueerlyhappy.
“Eh!thenestsas’llbeherecomespringtime,”hesaid.“It’dbeth’safestnestin’placeinEngland.Noonenevercomin’nearan’tangleso’treesan’rosestobuildin.Iwonderallth’birdsonth’moordon’tbuildhere.”
MistressMaryputherhandonhisarmagainwithoutknowingit.
“Willthereberoses?”shewhispered.“Canyoutell?Ithoughtperhapstheywerealldead.”
“Eh!No!Notthem—notallof’em!”heanswered.