So she walked to the door and pushed it open, and there she was standing in the room! The Someone was crying in that room, and it was quite a young Someone. She could see a glimmer of light coming from beneath it. It was on the other side of the wall at her left and a few yards farther on there was a door. She pushed it open very gently and closed it behind her, and she stood in the corridor and could hear the crying quite plainly, though it was not loud. Down this passage and then to the left, and then up two broad steps, and then to the right again. Was this the right corner to turn? She stopped and thought. Sometimes it stopped for a moment or so and then began again. The far-off faint crying went on and led her. So she went on with her dim light, almost feeling her way, her heart beating so loud that she fancied she could hear it. Medlock had come through the day she lost herself. She thought she remembered the corners she must turn to find the short corridor with the door covered with tapestry-the one Mrs. The corridor looked very long and dark, but she was too excited to mind that. There was a candle by her bedside and she took it up and went softly out of the room. “Everybody is in bed and I don’t care about Mrs. “I am going to find out what it is,” she said. She put her foot out of bed and stood on the floor. Perhaps the fact that she was in a rebellious mood made her bold. It seemed even stranger than the secret garden and the buried key. She felt as if she must find out what it was. She listened for a few minutes and each minute she became more and more sure. The door of her room was ajar and the sound came down the corridor, a far-off faint sound of fretful crying. “It isn’t the wind now,” she said in a loud whisper. She had been lying awake turning from side to side for about an hour, when suddenly something made her sit up in bed and turn her head toward the door listening. “It sounds just like a person lost on the moor and wandering on and on crying,” she said. How it “wuthered” and how the big raindrops poured down and beat against the pane! If she had felt happy it would probably have lulled her to sleep. The mournful sound kept her awake because she felt mournful herself. She did not cry, but she lay and hated the sound of the heavily beating rain, she hated the wind and its “wuthering.” She could not go to sleep again. She threw herself back on her pillow and buried her face. “It came because it knew I did not want it.” “The rain is as contrary as I ever was,” she said. Mary sat up in bed and felt miserable and angry. It was pouring down in torrents and the wind was “wuthering” round the corners and in the chimneys of the huge old house. She was awakened in the night by the sound of rain beating with heavy drops against her window. She hoped he would come back the very next day and she fell asleep looking forward to the morning.īut you never know what the weather will do in Yorkshire, particularly in the springtime. Oh, how she did like that queer, common boy! Her garden was her nest and she was like a missel thrush. He had meant that she might be sure he would keep her secret. Then Mary knew Dickon had meant the picture to be a message. That there’s a picture of a missel thrush on her nest, as large as life an’ twice as natural.” “I never knew our Dickon was as clever as that. Mary took the picture back to the house when she went to her supper and she showed it to Martha. The audio file for Chapter 13 “I am Colin” is 23 minutes 13 seconds in length. Finally, students complete the comprehension exercises. Next, students read The Secret Garden Chapter 13 “I am Colin” using the text below, the audio version, or printable found in the handout. Have students read and complete the vocabulary practice found in the handout.
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