And then she disappeared into the front room. When she came out again she was followed by Nell herself.
Or was it Nell? This thin-faced, white girl, with the dull, frightened eyes? For the first moment Clifford was hardly sure.
But she started violently, and the expression of her face changed. The look of alarm gave place to one of such joy, such comfort and radiant delight that Clifford was too much moved to speak.
They both stood silent until the woman had reluctantly disappeared into the back room of the house. Then Nell went into the front room, inviting him, still without a word, to follow her.
He did so, shut the door, and seized her in his arms. He could scarcely see her face for the mist before his eyes.
“I didn’t know you, Nell.”
“Didn’t you? Ah, well, it doesn’t matter.”
She spoke hopelessly, her first impulse of joy at the sight of him seeming to have died within her already.
“No, of course it doesn’t matter, for I mean you to look your own self again immediately. Do you know why I have come here, Nell?”
She was silent.