then paused, and, drawing a long breath, said softly, "It has done me
good. It is better air--it is a new kind of cure."

But though she spoke like this, she did not convince herself; her eyes
were wild with wondering and fear. She gripped the Pilgrim's arm more
and more closely, and trembled, leaning upon her.

"Why don't you speak to me?" she said; "why don't you tell me? Oh, I
don't know how to live in this place! What do you do?--how do you speak?
I am not fit for it. And what are you? I never saw you before nor any
one like you. What do you want with me? Why are you so kind to me?
Why--why--?"

And here she went off into a murmur of questions. Why? why? always
holding fast by the little Pilgrim, always gazing round her, groping as
it were in the dimness with her great eyes.

"I have come because our dear Lord, who is our Brother, sent me to meet
you, and because I love you," the little Pilgrim said.

"Love me!" the woman cried, throwing up her hands, "but no one loves me.
I have not deserved it." Here she grasped her close again with a sudden
clutch, and cried out, "If this is what you say, where is God?"

"Are you afraid of Him?" the little Pilgrim said.

Upon which the woman trembled so that the Pilgrim trembled too with the
quivering of her frame; then loosed her hold and fell upon her face, and
cried--