二つの魔法：ねじの回転、覆い隠された結末

VIII

In the days that followed, they met often to talk. The depths the governess had put before Mrs. Grose were ones she herself lacked the resolution to sound, but they agreed on the duty of keeping their heads. Mrs. Grose, late one night, went all the way with her in acknowledging that she had indeed seen what she had seen—the portraits she had drawn were too detailed to be invention. They took recurrence for granted and turned their attention to the question of the children’s strange complicity.

The governess returned to Flora and was almost luxuriously distracted by the child’s charm; the little girl accused her of having cried, which was so close to the truth that the governess could have wept again. But the deeper questions remained: by the lake, Flora had been perfectly aware, and had wanted to make her suppose she wasn’t, all the while guessing whether her governess herself did.

She turned back to Miles. Pressing Mrs. Grose with grim insistence, she extracted a final revelation. For several months Quint and the boy had been perpetually together—so much so that Mrs. Grose had once ventured to remonstrate, even approaching Miss Jessel, who told her sharply to mind her business. She had then spoken to Miles herself. She liked to see young gentlemen not forget their station. Miles had answered badly, and denied certain occasions when he had been off with Quint for hours. He had lied.

This, the governess realized with sinking horror, was what it showed—that Quint and Miss Jessel had, to that extent, succeeded in making of him. While he was with the man, Flora was with the woman. It had suited them all. And though Miles’s lies and impudence were less engaging than the governess had hoped, they made her feel more than ever that she must watch. Not accusing him yet, not without further evidence—but watching, and waiting, in the silence of the old house.