‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘oh, no.  I was not so presuming—­’

’It is not presuming to wish to carry comfort to any soul; but it is permitted to me to open up to you, so far as I may, some of the secrets.  The secrets of the Father are all beautiful, but there is sorrow in them as well as joy; and Pain, you know, is one of the great angels at the door.’

‘Is his name Pain? and I took him for Consolation!’ the little Pilgrim said.

’He is not Consolation; he is the schoolmaster whose face is often stern.  But I did not come to tell you of him whom you know; I am going to take you—­back,’ the wise man said.

‘Back!’ She knew what this meant, and a great pleasure, yet mingled with fear, came into her mind.  She hesitated, and looked at him, and did not know how to accept, though she longed to do so, for at the same time she was afraid.  He smiled when he saw the alarm in her face.

‘Do you think,’ he said, ’that you are to go this journey on your own charges?  Had you insisted, as some do, to go at all hazards, you might indeed have feared.  And even now I cannot promise that you will not feel the thorns of the earth as you pass; but you will be cared for, so that no harm can come.’

‘Ah,’ she said wistfully, ‘it is not for harm—­’ and could say nothing more.

He laid his hand upon her arm, and he said, ’Do not fear; though they see you not, it is yet sweet for a moment to be there, and as you pass, it brings thoughts of you to their minds.’

For these two understood each other, and knew that to see and yet not be seen is only a pleasure for those who are most like the Father, and can love without thought of love in return.

When he touched her, it seemed to the little Pilgrim suddenly that everything changed round her, and that she was no longer in her own place, but walking along a weary length of road.  It was narrow and rough, and the skies were dim; and as she went on by the side of her guide she saw houses and gardens which were to her like the houses that children build, and the little gardens in which they sow seeds and plant flowers, and take them up again to see if they are growing.  She turned to the Sage, saying, ‘What are—?’ and then stopped and gazed again, and burst out into something that was between laughing and tears.  ‘For it is home,’ she cried, ‘and I did not know it! dear home!’ Her heart was remorseful, as if she had wounded the little diminished place.

’This is what happens with those who have been living in the king’s palaces,’ he said with a smile.

‘But I love it dearly, I love it dearly!’ the little Pilgrim said, stretching out her hands as if for pardon.  He smiled at her, consoling her; and then his face changed and grew very grave.

‘Little sister,’ he said, ’you have come not to see happiness but pain.  We want no explanation of the joy, for that flows freely from the heart of the Father, and all is clear between us and Him; but that which you desire to know is why trouble should be.  Therefore you must think of Him and be strong, for here is what will rend your heart.’