ars in them, and a little shadow
seemed to come over her. But the other laughed softly, and restored all
her confidence.

"I have told you I do not know if it is heaven or not. No one does ill,
but some do little, and some do much, just as it used to be. Do you
remember in Dante there was a lazy spirit that stayed about the gates and
never got farther? But perhaps you never read that."

"I was not clever," said the little Pilgrim, wistfully; "no, I never read
it. I wish I had known more."

Upon which the beautiful lady kissed her again to give her courage, and
said,--

"It does not matter at all. It all comes to you, whether you have known
it or not."

"Then your mother came here long ago?" said the Pilgrim. "Ah, then I
shall see my mother too."

"Oh, very soon, as soon as she can come; but there are so many things to
do. Sometimes we can go and meet those who are coming; but it is not
always so. I remember that she had a message. She could not leave her
business, you may be sure, or she would have been here."

"Then you know my mother? Oh, and my dearest father too?"

"We all know each other," the lady said with a smile.

"And you? did you come to meet me--only out of kindness, though I do not
know you?" the little Pilgrim said.

"I am nothing but an idler," said the beautiful lady, "making
acquaintance. I am of little use as yet. I was very hard worked before I
came here, and they think it well that we should sit in the sun and take
a little rest, and find things out."

Then the little Pilgrim sat still and mused, and felt in her heart that
she had found many things out. What she had heard had been wonderful, and
it was more wonderful still to be sitting here all alone, save for this
lady, yet so happy and at ease. She wanted to sing, she was so happy;
but remembered that she was old; and had lost her voice; and then
remembered again that she was no longer old, and perhaps had found it
again. And then it occurred to her to remember how she had learned to
sing, and how beautiful her sister's voice was, and how heavenly to
hear her,--which made her remember that this dear sister would be
weeping, not singing, down where she had come from; and immediately the
tears stood in her eyes.

"Oh," she said, "I never thought we should cry when we came here. I
thought there were no tears in heaven."

"Did you think, then, that we were all turned into stone?" cried the
beautiful lady. "It says God shall wipe away