us. We were utterly unable to thank him, and, stumbling over each
other in the passage, flew up to our own room like caged birds set
free.

"Fatima drew out the pillows from the bed, and made herself easy on
the floor. I found the book, and climbed into the window-seat. The sun
was setting, the light would not last much longer; yet I turned over
the pages slowly, to find the place, which was in the second part,
thinking of the conversation downstairs. Fatima heaved a deep sigh
among her cushions, and said: 'I wish we were rich.'

"'I wish we were at home,' I answered.

"'When one's at home,' Fatima continued, in doleful tones, 'one
doesn't feel it, because one sees nobody; but when one goes among
other people, it _is_ wretched not to have plenty of money and things.
And it's no good saying it isn't,' she added, hurriedly, as if to
close the subject.

"'It's getting dark,' I said.

"'I beg your pardon: go on,' sighed Fatima.

"I lifted up my voice, and read till I could see no longer. It was
about the Valley of Humiliation through which Mr. Greatheart led
Christiana and her children. The 'green valley, beautified with
lilies,' in whose meadows the air was pleasant; where 'a man shall be
free from the noise and from the hurryings of this life;' and where
'in former times men have met with angels.'