We could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to be a fair-haired child.

There was a pause and a sharp little cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before the fire and dreams.

We were starting forward, but the Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew tree, kept us back.
And then as we looked the white figure moved forwards again.

It was now near enough for us to see clearly, and the moonlight still held.
My own heart grew cold as ice, and I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features of Lucy Westenra.

Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed.