given to any to know the Lord in the darkness, and follow him groping, and make way through sin and death, and overcome the evil, and conquer in his name.”  At which there was a great sound of weeping and of triumph, and the little Pilgrim could not contain herself, but cried out too in joy as if for a deliverance.  And then the poet told his tale.  And as he told them of the man who was poor and sorrowful and alone, and how he loved and was not loved again, and trusted and was betrayed, and was tempted and drawn into the darkness, so that it seemed as if he must perish; but when hope was almost gone, turned again from the edge of despair, and confronted all his enemies, and fought and conquered—­the people followed every word with great outcries of love and pity and wonder.  For each one as he listened remembered his own career and that of his brethren in the old life, and admired to think that all the evil was past, and wondered that out of such tribulation and through so many dangers all were safe and blessed here.  And there were others that were not of them, who listened, some seated at the windows of the palaces and some standing in the great square,—­people who were not like the others, whose bearing was more majestic, and who looked upon the crowd all smiling and weeping, with wonder and interest, but had no knowledge of the cause, and listened as it were to a tale that is told.  The poet and his audience were as one, and at every period of the story there was a deep breathing and pause, and every one looked at his neighbor, and some grasped each other’s hands as they remembered all that was in the past; but the strangers listened and gazed and observed all, as those who listen and are instructed in something beyond their knowledge.  The little Pilgrim stood all this time not knowing where she was, so intent was she upon the tale; and as she listened it seemed to her that all her own life was rolling out before her, and she remembered the things that had been, and perceived how all had been shaped and guided, and trembled a little for the brother who was in danger, yet knew that all would be well.

The woman who had been at her side listened too with all her heart, saying to herself, as she stood in the crowd, “He has left nothing out!  The little days they were so short, and the skies would change all in a 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?”