When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
7 I got hold of Mrs Grose as soon after this as I could; and I can give no intelligible account of how I fought out the interval. Yet I still hear myself cry as I fairly threw myself into her arms: “They know – it’s too monstrous: they know, they know!” “And what on earth—?” I felt her incredulity as she held me. “Why, all that we know – and heaven knows what else besides!” Then, as she released me, I made it out to her, made it out perhaps only now with full coherency even to myself. “Two hours ago, in the garden” – I could scarce articulate – “Flora saw!” Mrs Grose took it as she might have taken a blow in the stomach. “She has told you?” she panted. “Not a word – that’s the horror. She kept it to herself! The child of eight, that child!” Unutterable still, for me, was the stupefact