Mary did not ask any more questions. She looked at
the red fire and listened to the wind "wutherin'."
It seemed to be "wutherin'" louder than ever.
At that moment a very good thing was happening to her.
Four good things had happened to her, in fact, since she
came to Misselthwaite Manor. She had felt as if she
had understood a robin and that he had understood her;
she had run in the wind until her blood had grown warm;
she had been healthily hungry for the first time in her life;
and she had found out what it was to be sorry for some one.
But as she was listening to the wind she began to listen
to something else. She did not know what it was,
because at first she could scarcely distinguish it from
the wind itself. It was a curious sound--it seemed almost
as if a child were crying somewhere. Sometimes the wind
sounded rather like a child crying, but presently Mistress
Mary felt quite sure this sound was inside the house,
not outside it. It was far away, but it was inside.
She turned round and looked at Martha.
"Do you hear any one crying?" she said.
Martha suddenly looked confused.
"No," she answered. "It's th' wind. Sometimes it
sounds like as if some one was lost on th' moor an'
wailin'. It's got all sorts o' sounds."
"But listen," said Mary. "It's in the house--down one
of those long corridors."
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