she watched,
another came in by the same door as that at which the woman who was her
charge had come in. And he too stumbled and looked about him with an air
of great wonder and doubt. When he saw her seated on the ground, he came
up to her hesitating, as one in a strange place who does not want to
betray that he is bewildered and has lost his way. He came with a little
pretence of smiling, though his countenance was pale and scared, and
said, drawing his breath quick, "I ought to know where I am, but I have
lost my head, I think. Will you tell me which is--the way?"

"What way?" cried the little Pilgrim; for her strength was gone from her,
and she had no word to say to him. He looked at her with that
bewilderment on his face, and said, "I find myself strange, strange. I
ought to know where I am; but it is scarcely daylight yet. It is perhaps
foolish to come out so early in the morning." This he said in his
confusion, not knowing where he was, nor what he said.

"I think all the ways lead to our Father," said the little Pilgrim
(though she had not known this till now). "And the dear Lord walks about
them all. Here you never go astray."

Upon this the stranger looked at her, and asked in a faltering voice,
"Are you an angel?" still not knowing what he said.

"Oh, no, no; I am only a Pilgrim," she replied.

"May I sit by you a little?" said the man. He sat down, drawing long
breaths, as though he had gone through great fatigue; and looked about
with wondering eyes. "You will wonder, but I do not know where I am," he
said. "I feel as if I must he dreaming. This is not where I expected to
come. I looked for something very different; do you think there can have
been any--mistake?"

"Oh, never that," she said; "there are no mistakes here."

Then he looked at her again, and said,--

"I perceive that you belong to this country, though you say you are a
pilgrim. I should be grateful if you would tell me. Does one live--here?
And is this all? Is there no--no--but I don't know what word to use. All
is so strange, different from what I expected."

"Do you know that you have died?"

"Yes--yes, I am quite acquainted with that," he said, hurriedly; as if it
had been an idea he disliked to dwell upon. "But then I expected--Is
there no one to tell you where to go, or what you are to be? or to take
any notice of you?"

The little Pilgrim was startled by this tone. She did not understand its
meaning, and she had not any word