A Little Pilgrim

A Little Pilgrim

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Title: A Little Pilgrim
Author: Mrs. Oliphant
Release Date: March 19, 2005 [eBook #15410]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
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A LITTLE PILGRIM
In the Unseen
by
MRS. OLIPHANT
London MacMillan and Co., Limited New York: The MacMillan
Company
1899

Puro e disposto a salire alle stelle.
_Purgaterio_, Canto xxxiii.

The sympathetic reader will easily understand that the following pages
were never meant to be connected with any author's name. They sprang

out of those thoughts that arise in the heart, when the door of the
Unseen has been suddenly opened close by us; and are little more than
a wistful attempt to follow a gentle soul which never knew doubt into
the New World, and to catch a glimpse of something of its glory
through her simple and child-like eyes.

In Memoriam
E.C.
25TH FEBRUARY 1882

A LITTLE PILGRIM IN THE UNSEEN
She had been talking of dying only the evening before, with a friend,
and had described her own sensations after a long illness when she had
been at the point of death. "I suppose," she said, "that I was as nearly
gone as any one ever was to come back again. There was no pain in it,
only a sense of sinking down, down--through the bed as if nothing
could hold me or give me support enough--but no pain." And then they
had spoken of another friend in the same circumstances, who also had
come back from the very verge, and who described her sensations as
those of one floating upon a summer sea without pain or suffering, in a
lovely nook of the Mediterranean, blue as the sky. These soft and
soothing images of the passage which all men dread had been talked
over with low voices, yet with smiles and a grateful sense that "the
warm precincts of the cheerful day" were once more familiar to both.
And very cheerfully she went to rest that night, talking of what was to
be done on the morrow, and fell asleep sweetly in her little room, with
its shaded light and curtained window, and little pictures on the dim
walls. All was quiet in the house: soft breathing of the sleepers, soft
murmuring of the spring wind outside, a wintry moon very clear and
full in the skies, a little town all hushed and quiet, everything lying
defenceless, unconscious, in the safe keeping of God.
How soon she woke no one can tell. She woke and lay quite still, half
roused, half hushed, in that soft languor that attends a happy waking.
She was happy always in the peace of a heart that was humble and
faithful and pure, but yet had been used to wake to a consciousness of
little pains and troubles, such as even to her meekness were sometimes
hard to bear. But on this morning there were none of these. She lay in a

kind of hush of happiness and ease, not caring to make any further
movement, lingering over the sweet sensation of that waking. She had
no desire to move nor to break the spell of the silence and peace. It was
still very early, she supposed, and probably it might be hours yet before
any one came to call her. It might even be that she should sleep again.
She had no wish to move, she lay in such luxurious ease and calm. But
by and by, as she came to full possession of her waking senses, it
appeared to her that there was some change in the atmosphere, in the
scene. There began to steal into the air about her the soft dawn as of a
summer morning, the lovely blueness of the first opening of daylight
before the sun. It could not be the light of the moon which she had seen
before she went to bed; and all was so still that it could not be the
bustling wintry day which comes at that time of the year late, to find
the world awake before it. This was different; it was like the summer
dawn, a soft suffusion of light growing every moment. And by and by
it occurred to her that she was not in the little room where she had lain
down. There were no dim