Then the little Pilgrim sat still and mused, and felt in her heart that
she had found many things out. What she had heard had been wonderful, and
it was more wonderful still to be sitting here all alone, save for this
lady, yet so happy and at ease. She wanted to sing, she was so happy;
but remembered that she was old; and had lost her voice; and then
remembered again that she was no longer old, and perhaps had found it
again. And then it occurred to her to remember how she had learned to
sing, and how beautiful her sister's voice was, and how heavenly to
hear her,--which made her remember that this dear sister would be
weeping, not singing, down where she had come from; and immediately the
tears stood in her eyes.

"Oh," she said, "I never thought we should cry when we came here. I
thought there were no tears in heaven."

"Did you think, then, that we were all turned into stone?" cried the
beautiful lady. "It says God shall wipe away all tears from our faces,
which is not like saying there are to be no tears."

Upon which the little Pilgrim, glad that it was permitted to be sorry,
though she was so happy, allowed herself to think upon the place she had
so lately left. And she seemed to see her little room again, with all the
pictures hanging as she had left them, and the house darkened, and the
dear faces she knew all sad and troubled, and to hear them saying over to
each other all the little careless words she had said as if they were out
of the Scriptures, and crying if any one but mentioned her name, and
putting on crape and black dresses, and lamenting as if that which had
happened was something very terrible. She cried at this, and yet felt
half inclined to laugh, but would not, because it would be disrespectful
to those she loved. One thing did not occur to her, and that was, that