After that, Meg did not venture to speak to her again. The woman was evidently past making any kind of mental effort, but she kept repeating the same words, and smiling at the girl.
Meg was feeling too sad to return the smile. She lay and stared at her fellow sufferer, wondering how she could possibly be so peaceful in such surroundings. She envied her.
In the morning the bed was empty.
For some days after the death of the old woman, Meg lay in a kind of stupor; then one morning she awoke to the full perception of what was going on around her. The darkest hour of her life had arrived.
A fierce rebellion took possession of her. Looking around at the faces of her companions in misfortune, she could see nothing but marks of sin, reckless despair, or sullen indifference, and now that the restraining influence of the old saint had been removed, Meg took no pains to shut her ears to the profane and foul language that abounded.
She had tried not to listen so long as the old woman had lain and smiled at her from the next bed, but now she sat up and laughed fiercely. She felt a bitter inclination to join with these others as the oaths were flung about with violence; a reckless spirit seemed to take possession of her, and the language, instead of making her shrink away in horror chimed in with her present mood. Meg had come to the turning point of her life. The crisis was at hand. She was on the verge of disaster; standing on the very brink of the road that leads to hell. She could see nothing before her but sin, darkness, and despair.
She flung her arms above her head and laughed, a mirthless bitter laugh, so bitter that a woman who now lay in the next bed to her turned round and stared. But the girl offered no explanation of her action. Instead she gazed up into the sky, which she could see from the opposite window, with wild angry eyes.
When night came she tossed from side to side full of misery, then lay wide eyed still gazing up into the sky.
A star had fixed her attention. Her eyes were riveted upon it, and against her will she found her thoughts wandering into the garden at Friars Court, and she stood once more on the dewy grass in the morning sunshine, looking up at her bedroom window from which she could catch a sight of the picture of the Good Shepherd rescuing the lamb. It brought to her mind the voice of Miss Gregson as she had explained the picture to her on her first arrival at the Court. She remembered how she had listened with interest, and then had forgotten all about it in the delightful excitement of her life. She was unconscious of the need of a Saviour. Now all had changed for her. She felt as if in a dark pit; without hope. Her need was great. She was conscious that she was standing on the edge of a precipice, and the faintest push would mean death and darkness to her.
She groaned, stretching out her hands over the coverlet as if groping for something.