This was a great and terrible work for the little Pilgrim--the first she had ever had to do--and her heart failed her for a moment; but afterward she remembered our Brother who sent her, and knew what was best. She drew closer to the new-comer, and took her hand again. "Try," she said, in a soft voice, "and think a little. Do you feel now so ill as you were? Do not be frightened, but think a little. I will hold your hand. And look at me; you are not afraid of me?" The poor creature shuddered again, and then she turned her face and looked doubtfully, with great dark eyes dilated, and the brow and cheek so curved and puckered round them that they seemed to glow out of deep caverns. Her face was full of anguish and fear. But as she looked at the little Pilgrim, her troubled gaze softened. Of her own accord she clasped her other hand upon the one that held hers, and then she said with a gasp,-- "I am not afraid of you; that was not true that you said! You are one of the sisters, and you want to frighten me and make me repent!" "You do repent," the Pilgrim said. "Oh," cried the poor woman, "what has the like of you to do with me? Now I look at you, I never saw any one that was like you before. Don't you hate me?--don't you loathe me? I do myself. It's so ugly to go wrong. I think now I would almost rather die and be done with it. You will say that is because I am going to get better. I feel a great deal better now. Do you think I am going to get over it? Oh, I am better! I could get up out of bed and walk about. Yes, but I am not in bed,--where have you brought me? Never mind, it is a fine air; I shall soon get well here." The Pilgrim was silent for a little, holding her hands. And then she said,-- "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.