Chapter: The next day, after lessons, Mrs. Grose found a moment to say to me
quietly: "Have you written, miss?"

"Yes--I've written." But I didn't add--for the hour--that my letter,
sealed and directed, was still in my pocket. There would be time enough
to send it before the messenger should go to the village. Meanwhile
there had been, on the part of my pupils, no more brilliant, more
exemplary morning. It was exactly as if they had both had at heart to
gloss over any recent little friction. They performed the dizziest feats
of arithmetic, soaring quite out of MY feeble range, and perpetrated,
in higher spirits than ever, geographical and historical jokes. It was
conspicuous of course in Miles in particular that he appeared to wish to
show how easily he could let me down. This child, to my memory, really
lives in a setting of beauty and misery that no words can translate;
there was a distinction all his own in every impulse he revealed; never
was a small natural creature, to the uninitiated eye all frankness and
freedom, a more ingenious, a more extraordinary little gentleman. I had
perpetually to guard against the wonder of contemplation into which my
initiated view betrayed me; to check the irrelevant gaze and discouraged
sigh in which I constantly both attacked and renounced the enigma of
what such a little gentleman could have done that deserved a penalty.
Say that, by the dark prodigy I knew, the imagination of all evil HAD
been opened up to him: all the justice within me ached for the proof
that it could ever have flowered into an act.

He had never, at any rate, been such a little gentleman as when, after
our early dinner on this dreadful day, he came round to me and asked if
I shouldn't like him, for half an hour, to play to me. David playing
to Saul could never have shown a finer sense of the occasion. It was
literally a charming exhibition of tact, of magnanimity, and quite
tantamount to his saying outright: "The true knights we love to read
about never push an advantage too far. I know what you mean now: you
mean that--to be let alone yourself and not followed up--you'll cease to
worry and spy upon me, won't keep me so close to you, will let me go
and come. Well, I 'come,' you see--but I don't go! There'll be plenty of
time for that. I do really delight in your society, and I only want to
show you that I contended for a principle." It may be imagined whether I
resisted this appeal or failed to accompany him again, hand in hand, to
the schoolroom. He sat down at the old piano and played as he had never
played; and if there are those who think he had better have been kicking
a football I can only say that I wholly agree with them. For at the
end of a time that under his influence I had quite ceased to measure, I
started up with a strange sense of having literally slept at my post. It
was after luncheon, and by the schoolroom fire, and yet I hadn't
really, in the least, slept: I had only done something much worse--I had
forgotten. Where, all this time, was Flora? When I put the question to
Miles, he played on a minute before answering and then could only say:
"Why, my dear, how do _I_ know?"--breaking moreover into a happy laugh
which, immediately after, as if it were a vocal accompaniment, he
prolonged into incoherent, extravagant song.

I went straight to my room, but his sister was not there; then, before
going downstairs, I looked into several others. As she was nowhere
about she would surely be with Mrs. Grose, whom, in the comfort of that
theory, I accordingly proceeded in quest of. I found her where I had
found her the evening before, but she met my quick challenge with blank,
scared ignorance. She had only supposed that, after the repast, I had
carried off both the children; as to which she was quite in her right,
for it was the very first time I had allowed the little girl out of my
sight without some special provision. Of course now indeed she might be
with the maids, so that the immediate thing was to look for her without
an air of alarm. This we promptly arranged between us; but when, ten
minutes later and in pursuance of our arrangement, we met in the hall,
it was only to report on either side that after guarded inquiries we
had altogether failed to trace her. For a minute there, apart from
observation, we exchanged mute alarms, and I could feel with what high
interest my friend returned me all those I had from the first given her.

"She'll be above," she presently said--"in one of the rooms you haven't
searched."

"No; she's at a distance." I had made up my mind. "She has gone out."

Mrs. Grose stared. "Without a hat?"

I naturally also looked volumes. "Isn't that woman always without one?"

"She's with HER?"

"She's with HER!" I declared. "We must find them."

My hand was on my friend's arm, but she failed for the moment,
confronted with such an account of the matter, to respond to my
pressure. She communed, on the contrary, on the spot, with her
uneasiness. "And where's Master Miles?"

"Oh, HE'S with Quint. They're in the schoolroom."

"Lord, miss!" My view, I was myself aware--and therefore I suppose my
tone--had never yet reached so calm an assurance.

"The trick's played," I went on; "they've successfully worked their
plan. He found the most divine little way to keep me quiet while she
went off."

"'Divine'?" Mrs. Grose bewilderedly echoed.

"Infernal, then!" I almost cheerfully rejoined. "He has provided for
himself as well. But come!"

She had helplessly gloomed at the upper regions. "You leave him--?"

"So long with Quint? Yes--I don't mind that now."

She always ended, at these moments, by getting possession of my hand,
and in this manner she could at present still stay me. But after gasping
an instant at my sudden resignation, "Because of your letter?" she
eagerly brought out.

I quickly, by way of answer, felt for my letter, drew it forth, held it
up, and then, freeing myself, went and laid it on the great hall table.
"Luke will take it," I said as I came back. I reached the house door and
opened it; I was already on the steps.

My companion still demurred: the storm of the night and the early
morning had dropped, but the afternoon was damp and gray. I came down to
the drive while she stood in the doorway. "You go with nothing on?"

"What do I care when the child has nothing? I can't wait to dress," I
cried, "and if you must do so, I leave you. Try meanwhile, yourself,
upstairs."

"With THEM?" Oh, on this, the poor woman promptly joined me!

 The next day, the governess tells Mrs. Grose that she has written, even though she has not yet actually mailed the letter. She has spent the morning teaching the children, who performed brilliantly at their lessons. She finds Miles to be extraordinary, and she wishes for proof of his wrongdoing at school. After the noontime meal, he the governess if he can play the piano for her, and she takes this request to mean that he does not really want to leave her and go away to school but just argued to prove the point. The governess is so distracted by his piano playing that she loses all track of time. When he finishes, she suddenly wonders where Flora has been. Looking for Flora, the governess first goes to Mrs. Grose's room, but the child is not there with the housekeeper. This is the first time the governess has let Flora out of her sight in a long time, and the two women question the maids as to Flora's whereabouts. Mrs. Grose wants next to search other rooms in the house, but the governess expresses her certainty that Flora is outside. Mrs. Grose points out that she didn't take a hat, and the governess says that Miss Jessel never wore one. She believes Flora is with Miss Jessel and that Miles is with Quint in the schoolroom. Miles's piano-playing was part of a plan to distract the governess while Flora goes to Miss Jessel and giving Miles a chance to see Quint while the governess searches for Flora. The governess decides that she will go look for Flora, saying she doesn't mind anymore leaving Miles with Flint. She leaves the letter on the table for the servant Luke to take to be mailed. When Mrs. Grose wants to get a coat and hat before going out into the damp weather, the governess tells her to stay and check the schoolroom instead. Afraid of being left with Miles and Quint, the housekeeper agrees to go with the governess after Flora.

