It was as if now in my friend’s own eyes Miss Jessel had again appeared. I seemed at any rate, for an instant, to see their evocation of her as distinctly as I had seen her by the pond; and I brought out with decision: “It must have been also what she wished!”

Mrs. Grose’s face signified that it had been indeed, but she said at the same time: “Poor woman⁠—she paid for it!”

“Then you do know what she died of?” I asked.

“No⁠—I know nothing. I wanted not to know; I was glad enough I didn’t; and I thanked heaven she was well out of this!”

“Yet you had, then, your idea⁠—”

“Of her real reason for leaving? Oh, yes⁠—as to that. She couldn’t have stayed. Fancy it here⁠—for a governess! And afterward I imagined⁠—and I still imagine. And what I imagine is dreadful.”