XII

5 min

The particular impression I had received proved in the morning light, I repeat, not quite successfully presentable to Mrs. Grose, though I reinforced it with the mention of still another remark that he had made before we separated. “It all lies in half a dozen words,” I said to her, “words that really settle the matter. ‘Think, you know, what I might do!’ He threw that off to show me how good he is. He knows down to the ground what he ‘might’ do. That’s what he gave them a taste of at school.”

As I say, in the morning light I found I still could not quite explain my particular impression to Mrs. Grose. I tried to reinforce it by mentioning another remark he had made before we parted. “It all comes down to half a dozen words,” I said to her. “Those words really settle the matter. ‘Think, you know, what I might do!’ He said that to show me how good he is. He knows perfectly well what he ‘might’ do. That’s what he gave them a taste of at school.”

“Lord, you do change!” cried my friend.

“God, you really do change!” my friend exclaimed.

“I don’t change—I simply make it out. The four, depend upon it, perpetually meet. If on either of these last nights you had been with either child, you would clearly have understood. The more I’ve watched and waited the more I’ve felt that if there were nothing else to make it sure it would be made so by the systematic silence of each. Never, by a slip of the tongue, have they so much as alluded to either of their old friends, any more than Miles has alluded to his expulsion. Oh, yes, we may sit here and look at them, and they may show off to us there to their fill; but even while they pretend to be lost in their fairytale they’re steeped in their vision of the dead restored. He’s not reading to her,” I declared; “they’re talking of them—they’re talking horrors! I go on, I know, as if I were crazy; and it’s a wonder I’m not. What I’ve seen would have made you so; but it has only made me more lucid, made me get hold of still other things.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I’m simply figuring it out. You can be sure that the four of them meet constantly. If you had been with either child on either of the last two nights, you would have clearly understood. The more I’ve watched and waited, the more certain I’ve become. Even if nothing else convinced me, the way each child systematically keeps silent would be enough. Never, not even by a slip of the tongue, have they mentioned either of their old friends. Nor has Miles mentioned his expulsion. Oh, yes, we can sit here and watch them, and they can show off for us as much as they like. But even as they pretend to be absorbed in their fairy tale, they’re absorbed in their vision of the dead returned to life. He’s not reading to her,” I declared. “They’re talking about them. They’re talking about horrors! I know I go on as if I were crazy, and it’s a wonder I’m not. What I’ve seen would have made you crazy. But it has only made me think more clearly and grasp still other things.”

My lucidity must have seemed awful, but the charming creatures who were victims of it, passing and repassing in their interlocked sweetness, gave my colleague something to hold on by; and I felt how tight she held as, without stirring in the breath of my passion, she covered them still with her eyes. “Of what other things have you got hold?”

My clarity must have seemed terrible. But the charming creatures who were its victims moved back and forth, sweetly entwined. They gave my colleague something to hold on to. I felt how tightly she held on as she kept her eyes on them, unmoved by my passionate words. “What else have you discovered?”

“Why, of the very things that have delighted, fascinated, and yet, at bottom, as I now so strangely see, mystified and troubled me. Their more than earthly beauty, their absolutely unnatural goodness. It’s a game,” I went on; “it’s a policy and a fraud!”

“Why, the very things that have delighted and fascinated me. Yet, strangely, I now see that deep down they have puzzled and troubled me. Their otherworldly beauty, their absolutely unnatural goodness. It’s a game,” I went on. “It’s a strategy and a fraud!”

“On the part of little darlings—?”

“By the little darlings?”

“As yet mere lovely babies? Yes, mad as that seems!” The very act of bringing it out really helped me to trace it—follow it all up and piece it all together. “They haven’t been good—they’ve only been absent. It has been easy to live with them, because they’re simply leading a life of their own. They’re not mine—they’re not ours. They’re his and they’re hers!”

“Still just sweet little children? Yes, as crazy as that sounds!” Saying it aloud helped me follow the thought and piece everything together. “They haven’t been good. They’ve just been absent. It’s been easy to live with them because they’re simply leading lives of their own. They’re not mine. They’re not ours. They’re his and hers!”

“Quint’s and that woman’s?”

“Quint’s and that woman’s. They want to get to them.”

Oh, how, at this, poor Mrs. Grose appeared to study them! “But for what?”

Oh, how carefully poor Mrs. Grose seemed to study them at this! “But what for?”

“For the love of all the evil that, in those dreadful days, the pair put into them. And to ply them with that evil still, to keep up the work of demons, is what brings the others back.”

“For the love of all the evil the pair put into them during those dreadful days. The others come back to keep filling them with that evil, to carry on the work of demons.”

“Laws!” said my friend under her breath. The exclamation was homely, but it revealed a real acceptance of my further proof of what, in the bad time—for there had been a worse even than this!—must have occurred. There could have been no such justification for me as the plain assent of her experience to whatever depth of depravity I found credible in our brace of scoundrels. It was in obvious submission of memory that she brought out after a moment: “They were rascals! But what can they now do?” she pursued.

“Goodness!” my friend said under her breath. Her exclamation was simple, but it showed that she truly accepted my further proof of what must have happened in those bad times. There had been a time even worse than this one! Nothing could have justified my belief more clearly than her experience. It led her to agree that our two scoundrels were capable of whatever depths of depravity I believed possible. After a moment, she clearly gave way to her memories. “They were rascals! But what can they do now?” she went on.

“Do?” I echoed so loud that Miles and Flora, as they passed at their distance, paused an instant in their walk and looked at us. “Don’t they do enough?” I demanded in a lower tone, while the children, having smiled and nodded and kissed hands to us, resumed their exhibition. We were held by it a minute; then I answered: “They can destroy them!” At this my companion did turn, but the inquiry she launched was a silent one, the effect of which was to make me more explicit. “They don’t know, as yet, quite how—but they’re trying hard. They’re seen only across, as it were, and beyond—in strange places and on high places, the top of towers, the roof of houses, the outside of windows, the further edge of pools; but there’s a deep design, on either side, to shorten the distance and overcome the obstacle; and the success of the tempters is only a question of time. They’ve only to keep to their suggestions of danger.”

“Do?” I repeated so loudly that Miles and Flora paused in their walk and looked at us from a distance. “Don’t they do enough?” I demanded more quietly. The children smiled, nodded, and blew kisses to us, then resumed their display. We watched them for a minute. Then I answered: “They can destroy them!” My companion turned at that, but her question was silent. It made me explain further. “They don’t yet know exactly how, but they’re trying hard. They’re only seen at a distance, as it were, in strange places and high places. They appear on tower tops and roofs, outside windows, and at the far edge of pools. But there’s a deep plan on both sides to close the distance and overcome the obstacle. It’s only a question of time before the tempters succeed. They only have to keep suggesting danger.”

“For the children to come?”

“And perish in the attempt!” Mrs. Grose slowly got up, and I scrupulously added: “Unless, of course, we can prevent!”

“And die trying!” Mrs. Grose slowly stood up. I carefully added: “Unless, of course, we can prevent it!”

Standing there before me while I kept my seat, she visibly turned things over. “Their uncle must do the preventing. He must take them away.”

She stood in front of me while I remained seated, clearly thinking it over. “Their uncle must prevent it. He must take them away.”

“And who’s to make him?”

“And who’s going to make him?”

She had been scanning the distance, but she now dropped on me a foolish face. “You, miss.”

She had been looking into the distance, but now she turned to me with a foolish expression. “You, miss.”

“By writing to him that his house is poisoned and his little nephew and niece mad?”

“By writing to tell him that his house is poisoned and his little nephew and niece are insane?”

“But if they are, miss?”

“But what if they are, miss?”

“And if I am myself, you mean? That’s charming news to be sent him by a governess whose prime undertaking was to give him no worry.”

“And you mean, what if I am myself? That’s lovely news to send him from a governess whose main promise was not to worry him.”

Mrs. Grose considered, following the children again. “Yes, he do hate worry. That was the great reason—”

Mrs. Grose thought for a moment, looking at the children again. “Yes, he does hate worry. That was the main reason...”

“Why those fiends took him in so long? No doubt, though his indifference must have been awful. As I’m not a fiend, at any rate, I shouldn’t take him in.”

“Why did those fiends fool him for so long? No doubt they did, though his indifference must have been awful. In any case, I’m not a fiend, so I wouldn’t fool him.”

My companion, after an instant and for all answer, sat down again and grasped my arm. “Make him at any rate come to you.”

After a moment, my companion sat down again and gripped my arm. That was her only answer. “At least make him come to you.”

I stared. “To me?” I had a sudden fear of what she might do. “‘Him’?”

I stared. “To me?” Suddenly, I was afraid of what she might do. “‘Him’?”

“He ought to be here—he ought to help.”

“He should be here. He should help.”

I quickly rose, and I think I must have shown her a queerer face than ever yet. “You see me asking him for a visit?” No, with her eyes on my face she evidently couldn’t. Instead of it even—as a woman reads another—she could see what I myself saw: his derision, his amusement, his contempt for the breakdown of my resignation at being left alone and for the fine machinery I had set in motion to attract his attention to my slighted charms. She didn’t know—no one knew—how proud I had been to serve him and to stick to our terms; yet she nonetheless took the measure, I think, of the warning I now gave her. “If you should so lose your head as to appeal to him for me—”

I quickly stood up, and I think my face must have looked stranger than ever. “Can you see me asking him to visit?” Looking at my face, she clearly could not. Instead, as one woman reads another, she could see what I saw. He would mock me and find me amusing. He would despise me for no longer accepting that I had been left alone. He would scorn the elaborate scheme I had set in motion to draw his attention to my neglected charms. She did not know how proud I had been to serve him and keep to our agreement. No one knew. Yet I think she understood the warning I now gave her. “If you should lose your head and appeal to him on my behalf...”

She was really frightened. “Yes, miss?”

“I would leave, on the spot, both him and you.”

“I would leave both him and you right away.”