said--

"Why are you so afraid to die?"

The woman raised her head to look 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 anyone 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?"