True to the usual caprice of Chance, when it’s invoked as an oracle, there was a light, and yet there was not a light. It was clear to him, as he approached Mrs. Herbert’s door, that there was a glow in his mother’s room that came from the fire and not from any lamp or candle.

“I’ll have done something for you , old Truepenny,” he muttered, “if you care anything what becomes of her!”

He opened the little iron gate and moved stealthily to the door of the house. Before ringing, he peered as closely as he could into the fire-lit room.