◎美国儿童文学作家伯内特夫人*负盛名的作品，世界经典儿童小说。
◎无年龄的全民阅读英文读物，讲述大自然的秘密魔法，读过的人获益一生。
◎收入《牛津世界经典丛书》《企鹅二十世纪经典丛书》，影响了两位诺贝尔文学奖得主T.S.艾略特和D.H.劳伦斯的写作。
◎英语国家陶冶子女情操的读物，欧美各国将其列入英语教材。
◎治愈系，大自然的魔法故事，每个人心中都有一座秘密花园，跳跃着心灵成长的力量
◎英文原版，原汁原味，英文学习者的美文阅读，提升英文水平！
推荐阅读：
秘密花园（翻译文化终身成就奖获得者李文俊倾情翻译) 非改写&非编译，还原纯净阅读。一个“内心秘密成长”的童话，一部叙述美好心灵与大自然魔法的作品。”
【内容简介】
“咱俩差不多，”园丁老头本•韦瑟斯达夫对玛丽说，“长得丑，脾气也不好。”
可怜的小女孩玛丽，谁都不要她，都不喜欢她。父母去世后，她就被人从印度送回了英国的约克郡，住在她姨夫的家里。那是一幢旧房子，很大，差不多有上百个房间，可大部分都关得严严实实，还上了锁。玛丽住在那儿，情绪很坏， 她感到厌烦、孤独，只有园丁老头偶尔跟她说说话。
来了一只知更鸟，玛丽望着它飞过了围墙，飞进了一个园子，她听说这个花园已经荒废了十年，门的钥匙也不知哪儿去了。玛丽认识了两个小伙伴：农家小子迪康，他的脸红扑扑的，说话又快又溜；夜里总有奇怪的哭声，那是小少爷科林，他从生下来就病病殃殃，三天两头看医生……玛丽和伙伴们都充满了好奇，他们想知道园子里有什么，竟偶然找到了钥匙，打开了花园的门。此后他们一直辛勤劳动着，沉睡了十年的秘密花园苏醒了，这几个孩子瞒着所有大人，在花园里悄悄酝酿了一个秘密，等待着科林的父亲回家……
【作者简介】
弗朗西丝•霍奇森•伯内特（1849—1924），一位影响了20世纪整个文坛的英国女作家，是早使用现代心理描写手法进行少儿文学创作的作家之一。出生于曼彻斯特，父亲早逝，家境贫寒。16岁时，弗朗西丝随全家移居美国；18岁时，开始发表作品；28岁时，出版了她的部畅销书《劳瑞家的闺女》；62岁时，创作了她著名、成功的作品《秘密花园》，奠定了她在英国文学史上举足轻重的地位。她的作品《小公主》《小少爷方特罗伊》等也是世界文学宝库中的经典著作，广爱英语国家青少年的喜爱。
【媒体评论】
一本神奇的、充满糖果香味的书。
——《纽约书评》
这是一个关于大自然的魔法和人类美好心灵的故事。
——《时代周刊》
《秘密花园》包含了20世纪西方文学从传统向现代转型的几个重要主题：一个对内心世界的关注；二是提倡回到自然；三是神秘主义。
——美国作家 安丽森·卢瑞
【目录】
Chapter 1 There’s No One Left
Chapter 2 Mistress Mary Quite Contrary
Chapter 3 Across the Moor
Chapter 4 Martha
Chapter 5 The Cry in the Corridor 38
Chapter 6 “There Was Some One Crying—There Was”
Chapter 7 The Key of the Garden
Chapter 8 The Robin Who Showed the Way
Chapter 9 The Strangest House
Chapter 10 Dickon
Chapter 11 The Nest of the Missel Thrush
Chapter 12 “Might I Have a Bit of Earth?”
Chapter 13 “I Am Colin”
Chapter 14 A Young Rajah
Chapter 15 Nest Building
Chapter 16 “I Won’t!” Said Mary
Chapter 17 A Tantrum
Chapter 18 “Tha’ Munnot Waste No Time”
Chapter 19 “It Has Come!”
Chapter 20 “I Shall Live Forever”
Chapter 21 Ben Weatherstaff
Chapter 22 When the Sun Went Down
Chapter 23 Magic
Chapter 24 “Let Them Laugh”
Chapter 25 The Curtain
Chapter 26 “It’s Mother!”
Chapter 27 In the Garden
【免费在线读】
Chapter 1
There’s No One Left
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father had held a position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born, she handed her over to the care of an ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible.
So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby, she was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing, she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying. By the time she was six years old, she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it, they always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books, she would never have learned her letters at all.
One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her ayah.
“Why did you come?” she said to the strange woman. “I will not let you stay. Send my ayah to me.”
The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the ayah could not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not possible for the ayah to come to Missie Sahib.
There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her ayah did not come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last, she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower-bed, and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth, all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she returned.
“Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!” she said, because to call a native a pig is the worst insult of all.
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib—Mary used to call her that oftener than anything else—was such a tall, slim, pretty person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things, and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and floating, and Mary said they were “full of lace.” They looked fuller of lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all. They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy officer’s face.
“Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?” Mary heard her say.
“Awfully,” the young man answered in a trembling voice. “Awfully, Mrs. Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago.”
The Mem Sahib wrung her hands.
“Oh, I know I ought!” she cried. “I only stayed to go to that silly dinner party. What a fool I was!”
At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the servants’ quarters that she clutched the young man’s arm, and Mary stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder.
“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. Lennox gasped.
“Some one has died,” answered the boy officer. “You did not say it had broken out among your servants.”
“I did not know!” the Mem Sahib cried. “Come with me! Come with me!” and she turned and ran into the house.
After that, appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most fatal form and people were dying like flies. The ayah had been taken ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows.
