The Turn of the Screw
"He was looking for someone else, you say – someone who was not you?"
"He was looking for little Miles." A portentous clearness now possessed me. "That's whom he was looking for."
"But how do you know?"
"I know, I know, I know!" My exaltation grew. "And you know, my dear!" (6.3)
She felt my discrimination. "I daresay I was wrong. But, really, I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of things that man could do. Quint was so clever – he was so deep." (6.10)
I was there to protect and defend the little creatures in the world the most bereaved and the most lovable, the appeal of whose helplessness had suddenly become only too explicit, a deep, constant ache of one's own committed heart. We were cut off, really, together; we were united in our danger. They had nothing but me, and I – well, I had them. It was in short a magnificent chance. This chance presented itself to me in an image richly material. I was a screen – I was to stand before them. The more I saw, the less they would. (6.13)