A Little Pilgrim | Page 8

flowery greenness, leaving the path on purpose. This was a being
younger than the lady who had spoken to her before, with flowing hair
all crisped with touches of sunshine, and a dress all white and soft, like
the feathers of a white dove. There was something in her face different
from that of the other, by which the little Pilgrim knew somehow,

without knowing how, that she had come here as a child, and grown up
in this celestial place. She was tall and fair, and came along with so
musical a motion, as if her foot scarcely touched the ground, that she
might have had wings. And the little Pilgrim indeed was not sure as she
watched, whether it might not perhaps be an angel, for she knew that
there were angels among the blessed people who were coming and
going about, but had not been able yet to find one out. She knew that
this new-comer was coming to her, and turned towards her with a smile
and a throb at her heart of expectation. But when the heavenly maiden
drew nearer, her face, though it was so fair, looked to the Pilgrim like
another face, which she had known very well--indeed, like the homely
and troubled face of the friend of whom she had been thinking. And so
she smiled all the more, and held out her hands and said--"I am sure I
know you," upon which the other kissed her, and said, "We all know
each other; but I have seen you often before you came here," and knelt
down by her, among the flowers that were growing, just in front of
some tall lilies that grew over her, and made a lovely canopy over her
head. There was something in her face that was like a child--her mouth
so soft as if it had never spoken anything but heavenly words, her eyes
brown and golden as if they were filled with light. She took the little
Pilgrim's hands in hers, and held them and smoothed them between her
own. These hands had been very thin and worn before, but now, when
the Pilgrim looked at them, she saw that they became softer and whiter
every moment with the touch of this immortal youth.
"I knew you were coming," said the maiden. "When my mother has
wanted me I have seen you there. And you were thinking of her
now--that was how I found you."
"Do you know, then, what one thinks?" said the little Pilgrim with
wondering eyes.
"It is in the air; and when it concerns us it comes to us like the breeze.
But we who are the children here, we feel it more quickly than you."
"Are you a child?" said the little Pilgrim, "or are you an angel?
Sometimes you are like a child; but then your face shines and you are
like--you must have some name for it here; there is nothing among the
words I know." And then she paused a little, still looking at her, and
cried, "Oh, if she could but see you, little Margaret! That would do her
most good of all."

Then the maiden Margaret shook her lovely head. "What does her most
good is the will of the Father," she said.
At this the little Pilgrim felt once more that thrill of expectation and
awe. "Oh, child, you have seen Him?" she cried.
And the other smiled. "Have you forgotten who they are that always
behold His face? We have never had any fear or trembling. We are not
angels, and there is no other name; we are the children. There is
something given to us beyond the others. We have had no other home."
"Oh, tell me, tell me!" the little Pilgrim cried.
Upon this Margaret kissed her, putting her soft cheek against hers, and
said, "It is a mystery; it cannot be put into words; in your time you will
know."
"When you touch me you change me, and I grow like you," the Pilgrim
said. "Ah, if she could see us together, you and me! And will you go to
her soon again? And do you see them always--what they are doing? and
take care of them?"
"It is our Father who takes care of them, and our Lord who is our
Brother. I do His errands when I am able. Sometimes He will let me go,
sometimes another, according as it is best. Who am I that I should take
care of them? I serve them when I may."
"But you do not forget them?" the Pilgrim said, with wistful eyes.
"We love them always," said Margaret. She was more still than the lady
who had first spoken with the Pilgrim. Her countenance was full of a
heavenly calm. It had