The Two Magics: The Turn of the Screw, Covering EndJames, Henry
General
The Two Magics: The Turn of the Screw, Covering End
James, Henry
Children -- Fiction; Country homes -- Fiction; Courtship -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Governesses -- Fiction; Mortgages -- Fiction
The business was practically settled from the moment I never followed
him. It was a pitiful surrender to agitation, but my being aware
of this had somehow no power to restore me. I only sat there on my
tomb and read into what my little friend had said to me the fulness
of its meaning; by the time I had grasped the whole of which I had
also embraced, for absence, the pretext that I was ashamed to offer my
pupils and the rest of the congregation such an example of delay. What
I said to myself above all was that Miles had got something out of
me and that the proof of it, for him, would be just this awkward
collapse. He had got out of me that there was something I was much
afraid of and that he should probably be able to make use of my fear
to gain, for his own purpose, more freedom. My fear was of having to
deal with the intolerable question of the grounds of his dismissal from
school, for that was really but the question of the horrors gathered
behind. That his uncle should arrive to treat with me of these things
was a solution that, strictly speaking, I ought now to have desired to
bring on; but I could so little face the ugliness and the pain of it
that I simply procrastinated and lived from hand to mouth. The boy, to
my deep discomposure, was immensely in the right, was in a position to
say to me: “Either you clear up with my guardian the mystery of this
interruption of my studies, or you cease to expect me to lead with you
a life that’s so unnatural for a boy.” What was so unnatural for
the particular boy I was concerned with was this sudden revelation of a
consciousness and a plan.
That was what really overcame me, what prevented my going in. I
walked round the church, hesitating, hovering; I reflected that I had
already, with him, hurt myself beyond repair. Therefore I could patch
up nothing, and it was too extreme an effort to squeeze beside him into
the pew: he would be so much more sure than ever to pass his arm into
mine and make me sit there for an hour in close, silent contact with
his commentary on our talk. For the first minute since his arrival I
wanted to get away from him. As I paused beneath the high east window
and listened to the sounds of worship, I was taken with an impulse
that might master me, I felt, completely should I give it the least
encouragement. I might easily put an end to my predicament by getting
away altogether. Here was my chance; there was no one to stop me; I
could give the whole thing up--turn my back and retreat. It was only a
question of hurrying again, for a few preparations, to the house which
the attendance at church of so many of the servants would practically
have left unoccupied. No one, in short, could blame me if I should just
drive desperately off. What was it to get away if I got away only till
dinner? That would be in a couple of hours, at the end of which--I had
the acute prevision--my little pupils would play at innocent wonder
about my non-appearance in their train.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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