all tears from our faces,
which is not like saying there are to be no tears."

Upon which the little Pilgrim, glad that it was permitted to be sorry,
though she was so happy, allowed herself to think upon the place she had
so lately left. And she seemed to see her little room again, with all the
pictures hanging as she had left them, and the house darkened, and the
dear faces she knew all sad and troubled, and to hear them saying over to
each other all the little careless words she had said as if they were out
of the Scriptures, and crying if any one but mentioned her name, and
putting on crape and black dresses, and lamenting as if that which had
happened was something very terrible. She cried at this, and yet felt
half inclined to laugh, but would not, because it would be disrespectful
to those she loved. One thing did not occur to her, and that was, that
they would be carrying her body, which she had left behind her, away to
the grave. She did not think of this, because she was not aware of the
loss, and felt far too much herself to think that there was another part
of her being buried in the ground. From this she was aroused by her
companion asking her a question.

"Have you left many there?" she said.

"No one," said the little Pilgrim, "to whom I was the first on earth; but
they loved me all the same; and if I could only, only let them know--"

"But I left one to whom I was the first on earth," said the other, with
tears in her beautiful eyes; "and oh, how glad I should be to be less
happy if he might be less sad!"

"And you cannot go? you cannot go to him and tell him? Oh, I wish," cried
the little Pilgrim; but then she paused, for the wish died all away in
her heart into a tender love for this poor, sorrowful man whom she did
not know. This gave her the sweetest pang she had ever felt, for she knew
that all was well, and yet was so sorry, and would have willingly given
up her happiness for his. All this the lady read in her eyes or her
heart, and loved her for it; and they took hands and were silent
together, thinking of those they had left, as we upon earth think of
those who have gone from us, but only with far more understanding and far
greater love. "And have you never been able to do anything for him?" our
Pilgrim said.

Then the beautiful lady's face flushed all over with the most heavenly
warmth and light. Her smile ran over like the bursting out of the sun.

"Oh, I will tell you," she said. "There