Was it wrong then of Jenny that, coming in one evening to get some butter she had been buying from the Farm, she should stand still on the threshold of the kitchen, as one who has been struck with sudden bitterness? The kitchen looked so cosy with its gleaming pots and pans, the young companions appeared so comfortable, the black dog, who pricked up his ears at her entry, completed the picture so well as the guardian of the place. There was no guardian needed for the home from which she came, the home that had always been one of poverty, the home in which she must watch her daughter’s increasing misery, and feel daily that the distance was greater between her and her son. Other sons and daughters were prosperous, comfortable--there was Alice, well-dowered, well ‘thought on’ in the place; there was Tim who had escaped from early trials and hardships, to sit by her side and seem quite contented there; there was Miss Gillan, ‘all fine in silks an’ lace o’ Sundays,’ already supposed to be the heiress of her uncle in the town. At that moment, the feeling of the contrast was more than she could bear, oppressed as she was continually by an increasing sense of ruin--she hastily completed the errand for the sake of which she had come, resisted invitations to sit down, and went out into the night. It was better there, better in the cold and in the darkness, for darkness and solitude seemed companionship. Poor Jenny! To those who are struggling with blind efforts in the night-time, it seems as if any revelation would be desirable. And, indeed, there was coming to this village mother some knowledge of which she had not thought or dreamed. But it is not always easy to recognise, as a light to help and save, the lightning-flash that reveals the precipice. CHAPTER XXVII JENNY HEARS STRANGE WORDS IN THE DARKNESS ON the night succeeding that of her visit to the Farm Jenny was returning from Lindum after darkness had fallen. It was New Year’s Eve, a dark night, the moon had not risen; and the sky behind her lay in heavy streaks of grey above the line of brilliant lights on the top of Lindum Hill. Jenny was tired, for she had walked from the town; she had been to buy dainties for Annie, who became more ill every day; and the copper or two that would have been required for the railway journey made it too expensive. And yet she was almost exhausted; she had not been well herself, and the continual nursing of the last week had left her no time to rest.