Then the little Pilgrim bent over her and soothed her. "You must not be
so much afraid of dying; that is all over. You need not fear that any
more," she said, softly; "for here where you now are we have all died."

The woman started up out of her arms, and then she gave a great shriek
that made the air ring, and cried out, "Dead! am I dead?" with a shudder
and convulsion, throwing herself again wildly with outstretched hands
upon the ground.

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
afterwards 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?"