Таинственный сад / The secret garden

”

So she packed her small trunk and made the journey.

Mary sat in her corner of the railway carriage and looked plain and fretful. She had nothing to read or to look at. She folded her thin little hands in her lap.

“I suppose I may tell you something about where you are going to,” Mrs. Medlock said. “Do you know anything about your uncle?”

“No,” said Mary.

“Never heard your father and mother talk about him?”

“No,” said Mary frowning. Her father and mother never talked to her about anything.

“Humph,” muttered Mrs. Medlock.

She did not say any more for a few moments and then she began again.

“I suppose I can tell you something-to prepare you. You are going to a queer place.”

Mary said nothing at all.

“It’s a grand big gloomy place, and Mr. Craven is proud of it. The house is six hundred years old. It’s on the edge of the moor. There are many rooms in it, though many rooms are locked. There are many pictures and fine old furniture and things in the manor.

There is a big park round it and gardens and trees.” She paused. “But there is nothing else,” she ended suddenly.

Mary listened to her. It was so unlike India.

“Well,” said Mrs. Medlock. “What do you think of it?”

“Nothing,” the girl answered. “I know nothing about such places.”

Mrs. Medlock laughed.

“Eh!” she said, “you are like an old woman. Don’t you care?[8 - Don’t you care? – Неужели тебе всё равно?]”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Mary, “whether I care or not.

”

“You are right,” said Mrs. Medlock. “It doesn’t. Why will he keep you at Misselthwaite Manor? I don’t know. He’s not going to trouble himself about you, that’s certain.”

She paused.

“He’s got a crooked back,” she said. “He was a sour young man[9 - sour young man – желчный юноша]. But then he was married.”

Mary’s eyes turned toward her. She was a little surprised.

Mrs. Medlock saw this, and as she was a talkative woman she continued with more interest.

“She was a sweet, pretty girl. People said she married him for his money. But she didn’t-she didn’t. “When she died…”

“Oh! did she die!” Mary exclaimed. She remembered a French fairy story. It was about a poor hunchback and a beautiful princess.

“Yes, she died,” Mrs. Medlock answered. “And it made him queerer than ever. He cares about nobody.