Таємничий сад
XXVII. In The Garden
Itwasthestrangestthinghehadeverheard,ArchibaldCraventhought,asitwaspouredforthinheadlongboyfashion.MysteryandMagicandwildcreatures,theweirdmidnightmeeting—thecomingofthespring—thepassionofinsultedpridewhichhaddraggedtheyoungRajahtohisfeettodefyoldBenWeatherstafftohisface.Theoddcompanionship,theplayacting,thegreatsecretsocarefullykept.Thelistenerlaugheduntiltearscameintohiseyesandsometimestearscameintohiseyeswhenhewasnotlaughing.TheAthlete,theLecturer,theScientificDiscovererwasalaughable,lovable,healthyyounghumanthing.
“Now,”hesaidattheendofthestory,“itneednotbeasecretanymore.Idaresayitwillfrightenthemnearlyintofitswhentheyseeme—butIamnevergoingtogetintothechairagain.Ishallwalkbackwithyou,Father—tothehouse.”
BenWeatherstaff’sdutiesrarelytookhimawayfromthegardens,butonthisoccasionhemadeanexcusetocarrysomevegetablestothekitchenandbeinginvitedintotheservants’hallbyMrs.Medlocktodrinkaglassofbeerhewasonthespot—ashehadhopedtobe—whenthemostdramaticeventMisselthwaiteManorhadseenduringthepresentgenerationactuallytookplace.
Oneofthewindowslookinguponthecourtyardgavealsoaglimpseofthelawn.Mrs.Medlock,knowingBenhadcomefromthegardens,hopedthathemighthavecaughtsightofhismasterandevenbychanceofhismeetingwithMasterColin.
“Didyouseeeitherofthem,Weatherstaff?”sheasked.
Bentookhisbeer-mugfromhismouthandwipedhislipswiththebackofhishand
