Page 82 - Secret Garden

Then, one day, Mr Craven was sitting by a babbling stream in
a glorious green valley. Birds were drinking at the water’s edge. Everything and everywhere was still. Some little blue flowers were growing along the bank. Beautiful.
He looked around him. It was as if a curtain had been drawn back from a picture: he could suddenly see beauty everywhere. He stood up, took a deep breath. No brambles prickled his heart. “What is it?” he said out loud. “I feel almost . . . alive!”