g and weeping, with wonder and interest, but had no
knowledge of the cause, and listened as it were to a tale that is told.
The poet and his audience were as one, and at every period of the story
there was a deep breathing and pause, and every one looked at his
neighbor, and some grasped each other's hands as they remembered all that
was in the past; but the strangers listened and gazed and observed all,
as those who listen and are instructed in something beyond their
knowledge. The little Pilgrim stood all this time not knowing where she
was, so intent was she upon the tale; and as she listened it seemed to
her that all her own life was rolling out before her, and she remembered
the things that had been, and perceived how all had been shaped and
guided, and trembled a little for the brother who was in danger, yet knew
that all would be well.

The woman who had been at her side listened too with all her heart,
saying to herself, as she stood in the crowd, "He has left nothing out!
The little days they were so short, and the skies would change all in a
moment and one's heart with them. How he brings it all back!" And she put
up her hand to dry away a tear from her eyes, though her face all the
time was shining with the recollection. The little Pilgrim was glad to be
by the side of a woman after talking with so many men, and she put out
her hand and touched the cloak that this lady wore, and which was white
and of the most beautiful texture, with gold threads woven in it, or
something that looked like gold.

"Do you like," she said, "to think of the old time?"

The woman turned and looked down upon her, for she was tall and stately,
and immediately took the hand of the little Pilgrim into hers, and held
it without answering, till the poet had ended and come down from the
place where he had been standing. He came straight through the crowd to
where this lady stood, and said something to her. "You did well to tell
me," looking at her with love in his eyes,--not the tender sweetness
of all those kind looks around, but the love that is for one. The little
Pilgrim looked at them with her heart beating, and was very glad for
them, and happy in herself; for she had not seen this love before since
she came into the city, and it had troubled her to think that perhaps it
did not exist any more. "I am glad," the lady said, and gave him her
other hand; "but here is a little sister who asks me something, and I
must answer her. I thi