Sara, having got over the crisis and being on the fair road to recovery,--children recover quickly,--my heart turned towards home--and a longing to get back obsessed me. I could think of nothing but home, now that Diana's immediate need of me was over. She begged me to stay with her. To fail her at such a moment was a great grief to me, but I could make no further sacrifice. I must go home. "I must go, David," I urged. "Of course, if you must, you must, Betty, but I should have thought after all Diana has gone through, you would have stayed with her. You have always been so much to each other." How he hurt me, as if I wouldn't do anything in the world for Diana; but I must go home. "David," I said in desperation, "I must go. If I promise to come back directly, you won't misunderstand my going?" "I'll try to understand, Betty, that you have some very strong reason for going back." "Thank you, David," I said. "But," he continued, "you must tell Diana yourself." I went to her room, where she was lying down. "Diana, darling," I said, "I want very much to go home, if only for a day." "Of course, Betty, you must go. But don't look so distressed. I must have been selfish if I gave you the impression that I would not let you go. It is only that I love so having you, you are such a rock, and oh! it seems like some awful and terrible dream we have been through, doesn't it? Sara asked for her darling bunny today. Think what that means! Darling Betty, I pray that some great happiness may come to you some day. I begin to believe that the greatest joys come through the greatest sorrows." "Don't, Diana," I whispered. "I can't bear you to be too kind. I suppose it's all we've been through, but I feel." "I know, Betty," she whispered. "I lie here too tired to do anything but thank God. I ache with thankfulness, for you among other blessings. Come back soon." "What did Diana say?" asked David, who was waiting outside the door. "Did she understand?" "Understand? Did you ever know a time when Diana didn't understand?" I went. Oh, the joy of setting out towards home! That ridiculously small house in Chelsea in which were centered all my hopes. Some word might be there waiting for me. Nannie might have thought nothing of sufficient importance to forward at such a moment. How I hoped that was it, and that it might be there, else all my hopes were shattered. I opened the door with my latchkey. I looked. No telegram lay on the table; that I saw at a glance. Then Nannie appeared. She was crying. "Nannie," I said, "don't cry, she is much better, and is going to get quite well; only I had to come home." How explain to Nannie that I had left Sara and Diana at such a moment! "Your bat's crooked," said Nannie. "You ridiculous old person," I said, "what does that matter?" Nannie sniffed. I put my hat straight. "Is that better?"