"But that is just the thing which makes it so delightful. It would not be the faintest pleasure to me to adopt a girl who has had the same good things as myself. Everything will be a treat to Meg. You should just hear how she speaks even about the little blue room. It is to her a kind of heaven. Now, Angel dear, do like my plan. You really must sympathise with me, I am full of it."
While this conversation was going on, Meg lay in the blue room thinking hard. At first when she found herself awakening, on the morning after her arrival, in a comfortable bed surrounded with every care and luxury, a feeling of great thankfulness overwhelmed her; and when she discovered that the one who had encompassed her about with such good things was a girl not much older than herself, she felt happy and at ease. But when, after confiding her history to Sheila, the latter broached the subject about which her mind was full, Meg drew back. Her love of freedom was too great to allow her to fall in at once with the wonderful suggestion that had been made to her. She was taken so by surprise that her lips were tied for some time. It meant turning her back on all for which she had been striving. She had looked forward too long to Bostock's wild beasts to wish to give them up in a moment, and she felt sure that Jem would never find her under such novel circumstances. Besides, already she began to thirst for the open air. Though it had seemed wonderful at first to be housed in such a comfortable room and to rest her weary limbs on such a soft bed, she was already beginning to pant for the open air and for freedom.
When Sheila had propounded her astonishing plan the warm colour had suffused Meg's face and neck, which her companion had interpreted to mean extreme pleasure; but it was fear, more than anything else; fear, lest her plan of finding Bostock should be frustrated, and fear lest she should lose her freedom.
At the same time she was conscious of the extreme kindness of the proposal, which made the difficulty of refusing the offer ten times worse. After such kindness showered upon her, how could she refuse? So great was her perplexity that the idea of running away when strong enough crossed her mind, but was banished almost as soon as thought of, as the girl was no coward.
While Sheila was discussing her plan with Miss Gregson at the dinner table, Meg lay thinking, in great distress of mind. She sat up in bed panting at the very idea of living within four walls instead of under the blue sky and shining stars. When Sheila, full of spirits and satisfaction at having given Miss Gregson a shock of surprise, ran upstairs, she found her patient leaning out of the window.
"Meg! Meg! what are you doing? You were not to get up the doctor said till to-morrow. Get back to bed again."
Meg panted.
"I want the air," she said. "I want to lie under the stars again. I ain't used to walls, Miss, they fairly choke me. Let me sleep under the sky to-night."
"Indeed you will do no such thing," said Sheila authoritatively, conscious of her superiority of age, "I want you to get well as soon as ever you can."
Meg turned round after giving a hungry look at the sky. She knew it would be ungrateful to do anything but obey. But her eyes were sad. Sheila tucked her up again and then sat down on the bed.