CHAPTER THIRTEEN

COLIN

You never know what the weather will be like in England. Mary woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of rain. She laid in bed and thought, "Oh, the rain came because it knew I didn't want it! I hope it stops by morning."

Mary laid in bed and listened to the sound of the rain and the wind on the moors. She couldn't go back to sleep. How loud the wind was! "The wind sounds just like someone lost outside and crying," she thought.

She had been lying in bed awake for one hour, when something made her sit up. She listened carefully. "It isn't the wind," she said to herself. "I do hear someone crying. It's the same sound as before!"

Mary got out of bed and opened her door. She looked up and down the hall. She felt she had to solve the mystery of the crying. It seemed even stranger to her than the secret garden.

"I am going to find out what it is," she said. "Everyone is in bed and I don't care what Mrs Medlock says—I don't care!"

Mary found a candle in her room, and lit it. Softly she walked down the hall towards the noise. She knew she had to find the beautiful curtain, with the door behind it. That was where she'd heard the crying sound before. She tried to follow the sound of the crying. Sometimes the crying stopped, but it always started again. Mary was able to remember her path, and soon she was standing in front of the beautiful curtain. She pushed it aside, and opened the door behind it. Now she was standing in a short passage. She could hear the crying very clearly now, but it wasn't loud. It was coming from behind one of the walls. Mary saw a door a few feet down the passage. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. What would she find?

She saw a large, beautiful room. In the middle of the room there was a bed, and on the bed a boy lay. He looked about her age, and he was crying unhappily. Mary wondered if she was dreaming. She hadn't expected to find another child!

The boy had a small, white face, thick dark hair, and enormous gray eyes. He looked like he'd been sick, but he was crying as if he was only tired. Now he stared at Mary.

"Who are you?" he whispered. He looked very scared. "Are you a ghost?"

Mary was just as frightened. "No, I'm not. Are you?"

He stared at her. His gray eyes were so big that they made his face look smaller.

"No," he said finally. "I am Colin."

"Who is Colin?" Mary asked.

"I am Colin Craven. Who are you?"

"I'm Mary Lennox. Mr Craven is my uncle," said Mary.

"He's my father," said the boy.

Mary was shocked. "He's your father? But ... why didn't they tell me he had a son?"

Colin didn't answer her immediately. "Come here," he said.

Mary walked over to the bed. Colin put out his hand and touched her sleeping gown. "You are real, aren't you?" he said. "I think you could be a dream."

"I'm not a dream," said Mary. "Here, touch my hand. That feels real, doesn't it? When I came in here, I thought you might be a dream, too."

"Where did you come from?"

"From my room. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I heard someone crying, and I wanted to see who it was. Why were you crying?"

"Because I couldn't go to sleep either, and my head hurts. What is your name again?"

"Mary Lennox. So no one told you I had come to live here?"

"No. They would never do that. I would have been afraid you would see me. I won't let people see me and talk about me."

Mary was confused. "But why not?"

"Because I am always sick like this, and have to stay in bed. I don't even walk, because I have to take care of my back. It may end up like my father's back, all bent and crooked. My father doesn't want anyone to know about me except the servants. No one is allowed to talk about me. If I live, I might be a hunchback, but I won't live. My father hates it, because I am just like him."

"Oh, I knew this house was strange!" Mary said. "Everything is like a secret. Are you locked in this room?"

"No. I stay here because I don't want to be moved. It makes me too tired."

"Does your father come and see you?" asked Mary.

"Sometimes, when I'm asleep. But he doesn't want to."

"Why?"

Colin looked upset and angry.

"My mother died when I was born. It makes him unhappy to look at me. I remind him of her, because I look like her. He thinks I don't know, but I do! I've heard the servants talking."

"Have you been here always?"

"Sometimes they take me to the sea, but I won't stay, because people stare at me. I won't have people staring at me! I used to wear an iron thing to keep my back straight. But then a doctor from London came to see me, and made me take it off. He said I didn't need it. All I needed was fresh air. I hate fresh air, and I don't want to go outside."

"I didn't either, when I first came here," said Mary.

Colin didn't take his eyes off of Mary. "I don't want this to be a dream," he said.

"It isn't. We're both awake, and everyone else is asleep. Wait a minute—if you don't like people to see you, do you want me to go away?" asked Mary.

Colin grabbed her sleeping gown. "No," he said. "I would be sure I was dreaming, if you went. Stay here and talk to me, if you are real. I want to hear all about you."

Mary made herself comfortable. She was curious about Colin, too. "What do you want to know?"

Colin wanted to know how long she had been at Misselthwaite. He wanted to know where her room was, and what she had been doing. Did she hate the moor, like he did? Where had she lived before? Mary answered his many questions. Colin made her tell him about India, and about her journey across the ocean.

Mary discovered that because Colin had been sick, he hadn't learned as much as other children. He had never been to school. One of his nurses had taught him to read when he was little. Colin had been given all sorts of nice toys and books, because his father was wealthy. He didn't seem to like them much, however. He could have anything he wanted, and never did anything he didn't want to do.

"Everyone has to do what I want," he explained to Mary. "If I am angry, I become sick. No one thinks I'll live to grow up. How old are you?"

"I'm ten," said Mary, "the same age as you."

"How do you know how old I am?" Colin asked, surprised.

"Because when you were born, the garden door was locked and the key was hidden. And it has been locked for ten years," said Mary.

Colin sat up in bed a little. "What do you mean? What garden? Where is the key?" he asked, very interested.

"There's—there's this garden that Mr Craven hates," said Mary nervously. "He locked the door and no one knows where he hid the key."

"What kind of a garden is it?" asked Colin.

"I don't know! No one has seen it for ten years," said Mary slowly.

She hadn't wanted to talk about the garden, but she couldn't help it. Colin was too much like herself—all alone, with nothing to do. He asked many questions. Where was it? Had Mary ever looked for the door? Hadn't she asked the gardeners?

"They won't talk about it," said Mary. "I think they've been told not to answer questions."

"I would make them," said Colin.

Mary began to feel really frightened. What had she done? If Colin could make people talk about the garden, who knew what would happen!

"Everyone has to do what I say. If I live, this house and everyone in it will belong to me," said Colin calmly. "I can make them tell me anything."

Mary looked at the boy. She didn't realize that she and Colin had been raised in a similar way. They were very alike. To Mary, it seemed that Colin thought the whole world belonged to him!

"Do you really think you'll die?" she asked him. She wanted to make him forget the garden.

"Oh, probably," he answered, as if he didn't care. "Ever since I was small, I've heard people say I won't live. They think I didn't understand or hear, but I did."

"Do you want to live?" asked Mary.

"No," he answered, almost angrily. "But I don't want to die. When I feel sick, I lie here alone and think about dying until I cry and cry."

Mary didn't know what to say.

"Let's talk about something else," said Colin. "Tell me more about the garden. Don't you want to see it?"

"Well ... I suppose," said Mary in a low voice.

"I do, too. I might want to go outside, if I could see that garden. I am going to make them unlock the door," said Colin.

Mary was horrified. Everything would be ruined! Dickon would never come back. "No, don't—don't do that! Please!" she cried.

"But you said you wanted to see it," said Colin.

Mary felt like crying. "I do," she said quickly, "but if you tell everyone about it, then it won't be a secret anymore. One day, maybe we could find it by ourselves. I mean, if there was a door. Then it would be our garden. No one would know about it."

Colin thought for a moment. "I never had a secret before," he said. "It might be nice."

"If you don't tell, I feel sure I can find out how to enter the garden. We could find a nice boy to push you in your chair, and we could go there alone. And then, perhaps, we can go and plant some seeds, and make the garden come alive again. I think it must be almost dead now, but maybe we could make some flowers grow."

"That sounds nice," said Colin softly. He was feeling very sleepy and comfortable. "I wouldn't mind being outside, if I was in a secret place where no one could see me. Here, I am sleepy. Sit beside me and tell me what you think the garden might look like."

So Mary sat beside Colin, and told him about what trees and bushes might be inside the garden, and how many birds might build their nests there, because it was safe. She pretended she'd never seen the garden before. Then she told him about the robin and Ben Weatherstaff. Colin enjoyed listening to Mary talk, and his eyes began to close. He felt peaceful and calm, for the first time in a long while.

Mary felt a little worried. "Colin, what will Mrs Medlock do if she found out that I was here?" she asked.

"She will do what I tell her to do. I will tell her I want you to come and talk to me every day. I'm glad you came," answered Colin.

"So am I. I'll come as often as I can," said Mary. "But ... I am going to be busy, you know. I have to find that garden door."

"Yes, of course. You can tell me about it afterwards."

Now Mary was feeling sleepy herself. "I've been here a long time," she said. "You must feel sleepy. Should I go away now?"

"I wish I could fall asleep before you left me," said Colin, a little shyly.

"Close your eyes, and I'll sing you an Indian song my Ayi used to sing to me," said Mary. Somehow, she didn't want him to be awake and alone when she left. She took his hand gently and sang softly.

"That is nice," he said, very sleepy. Soon, his large gray eyes were closed and Mary could see he was sleeping deeply. She took her candle and left the room as softly as a ghost.

(end of section)