moment and one's heart with them. How he brings it all back!" And she
put up her hand to dry away a tear from her eyes, though her face all
the time was shining with the recollection. The little Pilgrim was glad
to be by the side of a woman after talking with so many men, and she put
out her hand and touched the cloak that this lady wore, and which was
white and of the most beautiful texture, with gold threads woven in it,
or something that looked like gold.

"Do you like," she said, "to think of the old time?"

The woman turned and looked down upon her, for she was tall and stately,
and immediately took the hand of the little Pilgrim into hers, and held
it without answering, till the poet had ended and come down from the
place where he had been standing. He came straight through the crowd to
where this lady stood, and said something to her. "You did well to tell
me," looking at her with love in his eyes--not the tender sweetness of
all those kind looks around, but the love that is for one. The little
Pilgrim looked at them with her heart beating, and was very glad for
them, and happy in herself, for she had not seen this love before since
she came into the city, and it had troubled her to think that perhaps it
did not exist any more. "I am glad," the lady said, and gave him her
other hand; "but here is a little sister who asks me something, and I
must answer her. I think she has but newly come."

"She has a face full of the morning," the poet said. It did the little
Pilgrim good to feel the touch of the warm, soft hand, and she was not
afraid, but lifted her eyes and spoke to the lady, and to the poet. "It
is beautiful what you said to us. Sometimes in the old time we used to
look up to the beautiful skies and wonder what there was above the
clouds, but we never thought that up here in this great city you would