perhaps he had overlooked. She wanted to say, "Send me." It seemed to her
that here was the occasion she had longed for all her life. Oh, how many
times had she wished to be able to go to him, to fall at his feet, to
show him something which had been left undone, something which perhaps
for her asking he would remember to do. But when this dream of her life
was fulfilled, and the little Pilgrim, kneeling, and all shaken and
trembling with devotion and joy, was at his feet, lifting her face to
him, seeing him, hearing him--then she said nothing to him at all. She
no longer wanted to say anything, or wanted anything except what he
chose, or had power to think of anything except that all was well, and
everything--everything as it should be in his hand. It seemed to her that
all that she had ever hoped for was fulfilled when she met the look in
his eyes. At first it seemed too bright for her to meet; but next moment
she knew it was all that was needed to light up the world, and in it
everything was clear. Her trembling ceased, her little frame grew
inspired; though she still knelt, her head rose erect, drawn to him like
the flower to the sun. She could not tell how long it was, nor what was
said, nor if it was in words. All that she knew was that she told him all
that ever she had thought, or wished, or intended in all her life,
although she said nothing at all; and that he opened all things to her,
and showed her that everything was well, and no one forgotten; and that
the things she would have told him of were more near his heart than hers,
and those to whom she wanted to be sent were in his own hand. But whether
this passed with words or without words, she could not tell. Her soul
expanded under his eyes like a flower. It opened out, it comprehended and
felt and knew. She smote her hands together in her wonder that she could
have missed seeing what was so clear, and laughed with a sweet scorn at
her folly, as two people who love each other laugh at the little
misunderstanding that has parted them. She was bold with him, though she
was so timid by nature, and ventured to laugh at herself, not to reproach