they would be carrying her body, which she had left behind her, away to
the grave. She did not think of this, because she was not aware of the
loss, and felt far too much herself to think that there was another part
of her being buried in the ground. From this she was aroused by her
companion asking her a question.

"Have you left many there?" she said.

"No one," said the little Pilgrim, "to whom I was the first on earth; but
they loved me all the same; and if I could only, only let them know--"

"But I left one to whom I was the first on earth," said the other, with
tears in her beautiful eyes; "and oh, how glad I should be to be less
happy if he might be less sad!"

"And you cannot go? you cannot go to him and tell him? Oh, I wish," cried
the little Pilgrim; but then she paused, for the wish died all away in
her heart into a tender love for this poor, sorrowful man whom she did
not know. This gave her the sweetest pang she had ever felt, for she knew
that all was well, and yet was so sorry, and would have willingly given
up her happiness for his. All this the lady read in her eyes or her
heart, and loved her for it; and they took hands and were silent
together, thinking of those they had left, as we upon earth think of
those who have gone from us, but only with far more understanding and far
greater love. "And have you never been able to do anything for him?" our
Pilgrim said.

Then the beautiful lady's face flushed all over with the most heavenly
warmth and light. Her smile ran over like the bursting out of the sun.