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other window in the same quarter. I got to the door without her hearing me; I got out of
it, closed it, and listened, from the other side, for some sound from her. While I stood in
the passage I had my eyes on her brotherís door, which was but ten steps off and
which, indescribably, produced in me a renewal of the strange impulse that I lately
spoke of as my temptation. What if I should go straight in and march to his window?-
what if, by risking to his boyish bewilderment a revelation of my motive, I should
throw across the rest of the mystery the long halter of my boldness? This thought held
me sufficiently to make me cross to his threshold and pause again. I preternaturally
listened; I figured to myself what might portentously be; I wondered if his bed were
also empty and he too were secretly at watch. It was a deep, soundless minute, at the
end of which my impulse failed. He was quiet; he might be innocent; the risk was
hideous; I turned away. There was a figure in the grounds-a figure prowling for a
sight, the visitor with whom Flora was engaged; but it was not the visitor most
concerned with my boy. I hesitated afresh, but on other grounds and only a few
seconds; then I had made my choice. There were empty rooms at Bly, and it was only a
question of choosing the right one. The right one suddenly presented itself to me as the
lower one-though high above the gardens-in the solid corner of the house that I have
spoken of as the old tower.

This was a large, square chamber, arranged with some state as a bedroom, the
extravagant size of which made it so inconvenient that it had not for years, though kept
by Mrs. Grose in exemplary order, been occupied. I had often admired it and I knew
my way about in it; I had only, after just faltering at the first chill gloom of its disuse, to
pass across it and unbolt as quietly as I could one of the shutters.

Achieving this transit, I uncovered the glass without a sound and, applying my face to
the pane, was able, the darkness without being much less than within, to see that I
commanded the right direction. Then I saw something more. The moon made the night
extraordinarily penetrable and showed me on the lawn a person, diminished by
distance, who stood there motionless and as if fascinated, looking up to where I had
appeared-looking, that is, not so much straight at me as at something that was
apparently above me. There was clearly another person above me-there was a person
on the tower; but the presence on the lawn was not in the least what I had conceived
and had confidently hurried to meet. The presence on the lawn-I felt sick as I made it
out-was poor little Miles himself.
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