matter.  There was a baby to feed and bring up.  Being a boy, other things would soon be forgotten.  It was too late, she knew, to do anything for Jane.  The only thing that seemed possible to her in her simple reasoning, was to prevent such catastrophes for the future.  It was not that pity was misplaced when shipwreck came, nor that charity ever failed.  She understood, without being conscious of it, the ironic severity of Jesus, who would have no sudden pity and heart-searching on account of His poor.  He had come into the world for righteousness and for judgment, and the judgment and righteousness both declared, not at the time of disaster or human appeal, nor with sudden loud outcries, but, “The poor always ye have with you, and whensoever ye will, ye may do them good.”

The baby stirred.  Anne lit the candle, and set it on the stairs.  She stepped over the dog, and took a warm flannel from the oven door.  Tucking it in at the feet of the child, she lifted the clothes-basket and carried it upstairs.  The dog raised his head and watched her.  She returned, covered the fire, and set an earthenware pot of milk on the hob.  The dog laid his nose between his paws again.  Anne, taking the candle and leaving the room in darkness, closed the staircase door and went upstairs.