Ann cried herself to sleep that night.

Morva went home to her mother, white and dry-eyed, her mind full of anxious questioning, her heart sinking with sorrow.
Sara held out her wrinkled hand towards her.
"Come, 'merch fach i, 'tis trouble, I know; but what is it, lass ?" "Oh, mother, 'tis too dreadful to think of! How can such things be?
You say the spirits come and talk to you, they never come to me; ask them to be kind to me, too, and to take me to themselves, for this world is too full of cruel thorns!" Sara's kind eyes filled with tears.
"Oh! that I could bear thy sorrow for thee, my little girl; but it is one of the thorns of life that we cannot raise the burden of sorrows from our dear ones and bind it on our own shoulders.

God alone can help thee, my child." "Mother, do you know what has happened ?" "Yes," said the old woman.

"I was quite failing to sleep last night, so I got up and lighted the fire, and I read a chapter sitting here on the settle.

After I had read, looking I was at the flames and the sparks that flew upwards, and a vision came before me.