Then there came into the Pilgrim’s heart what to say, and she took the woman’s hand again and held it between her own.  “That is the change,” she said, “that comes when we come here.  We are not afraid any more of our Father.  We are not all happy.  Perhaps you will not be happy at first.  But if he says to you, ’Go!’—­even to that place you speak of—­you will know that it is well, and you will not be afraid.  You are not afraid now,—­oh, I can see it in your eyes.  You are not happy, but you are not afraid.  You know it is the Father.  Do not say God,—­that is far off,—­Father!” said the little Pilgrim, holding up the woman’s hand clasped in her own.  And there came into her soul an ecstasy, and tears that were tears of blessedness fell from her eyes, and all about her there seemed to shine a light.  When she came to herself, the woman who was her charge had come quite close to her, and had added her other hand to that the Pilgrim held, and was weeping and saying, “I am not afraid,” with now and then a gasp and sob, like a child who after a passion of tears has been consoled, yet goes on sobbing and cannot quite forget, and is afraid to own that all is well again.  Then the Pilgrim kissed her, and bade her rest a little; for even she herself felt shaken, and longed for a little quiet, and to feel the true sense of the peace that was in her heart.  She sat down beside her upon the ground, and made her lean her head against her shoulder, and thus they remained very still for a little time, saying no more.  It seemed to the little Pilgrim that her companion had fallen asleep, and perhaps it was so, after so much agitation.  All this time there had been people passing, entering by the many doors.  And most of them paused a little to see where they were, and looked round them, then went on; and it seemed to the little Pilgrim that according to the doors by which they entered each took a different way.  While 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.”