A pale light flickered through the space of windows left uncovered by the shutters. Meg made her way cautiously, yet swiftly. It seemed to her that Elsie knew she was coming, and that there was no time to be lost. A jet of gas was burning low in the passage at the end of which was the curtained door. Meg lifted the heavy drapery. The scent of the carbolic grew more acrid. She pushed her head through the door that stood slightly ajar. The nurse, lying on a couch, was asleep. Meg at first could not see Elsie, but when she made a few steps inside the room she perceived the child.
Elsie's eyes were turned toward the door, as if anxiously watching. As Meg entered she made a little ghostly gesture, as if trying to get up. Meg was by her bedside in a moment. She had an impression that it was Elsie and yet not Elsie who was there. The beautiful hair was all cut off. The face was shrunk, a distressed expression rumpled the brow. The eyes were very bright and wide open. They seemed to Meg Elsie's eyes looking at her from a distance. As she clasped the child in her arms she realized with despair that it was like clasping a small gasping phantom.
"I thought you would never come, Meg," Elsie murmured through her labored breathing.
"Oh, Elsie, I have wanted to come," whispered Meg, bringing her face close down to the pillow.
"I wanted you," whispered Elsie. "I kept saying, 'Meg, Meg, come!'"
"I heard you," said Meg.
"Heard me?" repeated the muffled voice. "How could you hear me? I only whispered it. 'Meg Meg, come!'"
"But I heard you," said Meg, "and here I am, darling; here I am, and I will never leave you."
"I said," continued Elsie in that labored whisper, "if Meg comes the dreadful diamond will go."