The Turn of the Screw

XX

XXJust as in the churchyard with Miles, the whole thing was uponus. Much as I had made of the fact that this name had never once,between us, been sounded, the quick, smitten glare with which thechild’s face now received it fairly likened mybreach of thesilence to the smash of a pane of glass. It added to theinterposing cry, as if to stay the blow, that Mrs. Grose, at thesame instant, uttered over my violence—the shriek of acreature scared, or rather wounded, which, in turn, within afewseconds, was completed by a gasp of my own. I seized mycolleague’s arm. “She’s there, she’sthere!”

Miss Jessel stood before us on the opposite bank exactly as shehad stood the other time, and I remember, strangely, as the firstfeeling now produced inme, my thrill of joy at having brought on aproof. She was t