Question

from the somnambulist by george macdonald one night i was sitting in my room, devouring an old romance which i had brought from the library. it was late. the fire blazed bright, but the candles were nearly burnt out, and i grew sleepy. suddenly i found myself on my feet, listening with agony. whether i had heard anything i could not tell; but i felt as if i had. yes, i was sure of it. far away, i heard a faint cry. driven by some secret impulse, i flew, without a moment’s reflection, to the door, and stood in the great echoing hall, amid the touches, light and ghostly, of the cobwebs set afloat in the eddies occasioned by my sudden entrance. a faded moonbeam fell on the floor, and filled the place with an ancient dream - light, which wrought strangely on my brain, and filled it, as if it, too, were but a deserted, sleepy house, haunted by old dreams and memories. recollecting myself, i went back for a light: but the candles were both flickering in the sockets, and i was compelled to trust to the moon. i ascended the staircase. old as it was, not a board creaked, not a banister shook—the whole felt solid as rock. finding, at length, no more stair to ascend, i groped my way on; for here there was no direct light from the moon—only the light of the moonlight air. i was in some trepidation, i confess; for how should i find my way back? at length, after wandering into several rooms and out again, my hand fell on a latched door. i opened it, and entered a long corridor, with many windows on one side. broad strips of moonlight lay slantingly across the narrow floor, divided by regular intervals of shade. i started, and my heart swelled; for i saw a movement somewhere—i could neither tell where, nor of what: i was only aware of motion. i stood in the first shadow, and gazed, but saw nothing. i sped across the light to the next shadow, and stood again, looking with fearful fixedness of gaze towards the far end of the corridor. suddenly a white form glimmered and vanished. i crossed to the next shadow. again a glimmer and vanishing, but nearer. nerving myself to the utmost, i ceased the stealthiness of my movements, and went forward, slowly and steadily. a tall form, apparently of a woman, dressed in a long white robe, appeared in one of the streams of light, threw its arms over its head, gave a wild cry—which, notwithstanding its wildness and force, had a muffled select the correct answer. which statement best describes the effect of the underlined passage? a. it creates tension by showing the narrator’s mad rush through the house. b. it slows the pacing of the narrative, helping build mystery and suspense. c. it quickens the pacing of the narrative, leading directly to a confrontation. d. it provides exposition through a flashback about a dream the narrator once had.

Explanation:

To solve this, we analyze each option:

• Option A: The underlined passage doesn't show a "mad rush" but a more cautious, mysterious movement. Eliminate A.
• Option B: The description of the setting (moonlight, shadows, mysterious movements) slows the pacing, building mystery and suspense as the narrator explores. This fits.
• Option C: The passage doesn't quicken pacing or lead to a direct confrontation. Eliminate C.
• Option D: There's no flashback here; it's present - tense narration of the narrator's experience. Eliminate D.

Answer:

B. It slows the pacing of the narrative, helping build mystery and suspense.