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k to john about it and make sure he understands the boy must spend school hours in school。
but to return to my subject： where adeline’s viciousness to her sister is concerned； she might be surprised to know it； but i have seen it all before。 jealousy and anger between siblings is monplace； and in twins rivalries are frequently heightened。 with time i will be able to minimise the aggression； but in the meantime constant vigilance is required to prevent adeline hurting her sister； and this slows down progress on other fronts； which is a pity。 why emmeline lets herself be beaten （and have her hair pulled out； and be chased by adeline wielding the fire tongs in which she carries hot coals） i have yet to understand。 she is twice the size of her sister and could defend herself more vigorously than she does。 perhaps she flinches from inflicting hurt on her sister； she is an affectionate soul。
my first judgment of adeline in the early days was of a child who might not ever e to live as independent and normal a life as her sister； but who could be brought to a point of balance； of stability； and whose rages could be contained by the imposition of a strict routine。 i did not expect ever to bring her to understanding。 the task i foresaw was greater than for her sister； but i expected far less thanks for it； for it would seem less in the eyes of the world。 but i have been startled into modifying that opinion by signs of a dark and clouded intelligence。 this morning she came into the classroom dragging her feet； but without the worst displays of unwillingness； and once in her seat； rested her head on her arm just as i have seen before。 i began the lesson。 it was nothing more than the telling of a story； an adaptation i had made for the purpose of the opening chapters of jane eyre； a story loved by a great many girls。 i was concentrating on emmeline； encouraging her to follow the story by animating it as much as possible。 i gave one voice to the heroine； another to the aunt； yet another to the cousin； and i acpanied the storytelling with such gestures and expressions as seemed to illustrate the emotions of the characters。 emmeline did not take her eyes off me； and i was pleased with my effect。
out of the corner of my eye i caught a movement。 adeline had turned her head in my direction。 still her head rested on her arm； still her eyes appeared closed； yet i had the distinct impression she was listening to me。 even if the change of position was meaningless （and it was not； she has always turned away from me before）； there is the alteration in the way she held herself。 where she normally slumps over her desk when she sleeps； in a state of animal unconsciousness； today her whole body seemed alert： the set of the shoulders； a certain tension。 as if she was straining toward the story； yet still trying to give the impression of inert slumber。
i did not want her to see that i had noticed anything。 i continued to look as if i was reading only to emmeline。 i maintained the animation of my face and voice。 but all the time i was keeping an eye on adeline。 and she wasn’t only listening。 i caught a quiver of her lids。 i had thought her eyes closed； but not at all—from between her lashes； she was watching me！
it is a most interesting development； and one that i foresee will be the centerpin of my project here。
then the most unexpected thing happened。 the doctor’s face changed。 yes； hanged； before my very eyes。 it was one of those moments when a face es suddenly into new focus； when the features； all recognizably as they were before； are prone to a dizzying shift and present themselves in an unexpected new light。 i would like to know what it is in a human mind that causes the faces of those we know to shift and dance about like that。 i have ruled out optical effects； phenomena related to light and so on； and have arrived at the conclusion that the explanation is rooted in the psychology of the onlooker。 anyway； the sudden movement and rearrangement of his facial features caused me to stare at him for a few moments； which must have seemed very strange to him。 when his features had ceased their jumping about； there was something odd in his expression； too； something i could not； cannot fathom。 i do dislike what i cannot fathom。
we stared at each other for a few seconds； each as awkward as the other； then rather abruptly he left。
i wish mrs。 dunne would not move my books about。 how many times shall i have to tell her that a book is not finished until it is finished？ and if she must move it； why not put it back in the library whence it came？ what is the point of leaving it on the staircase？
i have had a curious conversation with john the gardener。
he is a good worker； more cheerful now that his topiary is mending； and a helpful presence generally in the house。 he drinks tea and chats in the kitchen with mrs。 dunne； sometimes i e across them talking in low voices； which makes me think she is not as deaf as she makes out。 were it not for her great age i would imagine some love affair going on； but since that is out of the question i am at a loss to explain what their secret is。 i taxed mrs。 dunne with it； unhappily； because she and i have a friendly understanding about things for the most part； i think she approves of my presence here—not that it would make any difference if she didn’t—and she told me that they talk of nothing but household matters； chickens to be killed； potatoes to be dug and the like。 “why talk so low？” i insisted； and she told me it was not low at all； at least not particularly so。 “but you don’t hear me when i talk low； ” i said； and she answered that new voices are harder than the ones she is used to； and if she understands john when he talks low it is because she has known his voice for many years and mine for only a couple of months。
i had forgotten all about the low voices in the kitchen； until this new odd…ness with john。 a few mornings ago i was taking a walk just before lunch in the garden when i saw again the boy who was weeding the flower bed beneath the schoolroom window。 i glanced at my watch； and again it was in school hours。 the boy did not see me； for i was hidden by the trees。 i wa