"Tell me how you feel now," in her soft voice.

The woman had sat up and was gazing round her. "It is very strange," she
said; "it is all confused. I think upon my mother and the old prayers I
used to say. For a long, long time I always said my prayers; but now I've
got hardened, they say. Oh, I was once as fresh as any one. It all comes
over me now. I feel as if I were young again--just come out of the
country. I am sure that I could walk."

The little Pilgrim raised her up, holding her by her hands; and she stood
and gazed round about her, making one or two doubtful steps. She was very
pale, and the light was dim; her eyes peered into it with a scared yet
eager look. She made another step, then stopped again.

"I am quite well," she said. "I could walk a mile. I could walk any
distance. What was that you said? Oh, I tell you I am better! I am not
going to die."

"You will never, never die," said the little Pilgrim; "are you not glad
it is all over? Oh, I was so glad! And all the more you should be glad if
you were so much afraid."

But this woman was not glad. She shrank away from her companion, then
came close to her again, and gripped her with her hands.

"It is your--fun," she said, "or just to frighten me. Perhaps you think
it will do me no harm as I am getting so well; you want to frighten me to
make me good. But I mean to be good without that--I do!--I do! When one
is so near dying as I have been and yet gets better,--for I am going to