moaning, with now and then a great sob shaking her as she lay. The little Pilgrim had taken her by both her arms, and drawn her head to rest upon her own lap, and was still holding the hands, which the poor creature had thrown out as if to clutch the ground. Thus she lay for a little while, as the little Pilgrim remembered she herself had lain, not wishing to move, wondering what had happened to her; then she clutched the hands which grasped her, and said, muttering,-- "You are some one new. Have you come to save me? Oh, save me! Oh, save me! Don't let me die!" This was very strange to the little Pilgrim, and went to her heart. She soothed the stranger, holding her hands warm and light, and stooping over her. "Dear," she said, "you must try and not be afraid." "You say so," said the woman, "because you are well and strong. You don't know what it is to be seized in the middle of your life, and told that you've got to die. Oh, I have been a sinful creature! I am not fit to die. Can't you give me something that will cure me? What is the good of doctors and nurses if they cannot save a poor soul that is not fit to die?" At this the little Pilgrim smiled upon her, always holding her fast, and said,-- "Why are you so afraid to die?" The woman raised her head to see who it was who put such a strange question to her. "You are some one new," she said. "I have never seen you before. Is there any one that is not afraid to die? Would _you_ like to have to give your account all in a moment, without any time to prepare?" "But you have had time to prepare," said the Pilgrim. "Oh, only a very, very little time. And I never thought it was true. I am not an old woman, and I am not fit to die; and I'm poor. Oh, if I were rich, I would bribe you to give me something to keep me alive. Won't you do it for pity?--won't you do it for pity? When you are as bad as I am, oh, you will perhaps call for some one to help you, and find nobody, like me." "I will help you for love," said the little Pilgrim; "some one who loves you has sent me." The woman lifted herself up a little and shook her head. "There is nobody that loves me." Then she cast her eyes round her and began to tremble again (for the touch of the little Pilgrim had stilled her). "Oh, where am I?" she said. "They have taken me away; they have brought me to a strange place; and you are new. Oh, where have they taken me?--where am I?--where am I?" she cried. "Have they brought me here to die?" Then the little Pilgrim bent over her and soothed her. "You must not be so much afraid of dying; that is all over. You need not fear that any more," she said softly; "for here where you now are we have all died." The woman started up out of her arms, and then she gave a great shriek that made the air ring, and cried out, "Dead! am I dead?" with a shudder and convulsion, throwing herself again wildly with outstretched hands upon the ground.