"It must not be, little sister, you must wander again."
"But I am dead, do you not see? Do you not see that I am burnt?—my brain, my eyes, my heart; leave me alone."
"That does not concern the world whether you wander through it dead or alive, but wander you must. I will not let you go till you do."
He raised her on her feet. She turned and looked at him. He grew pale. Her face was stony, her eyes stony, her hair hung round her rigid and dead.
"Shall I go?" she said, without moving her lips.
"Go," said Courage, "for you all pains are past; you will gaze into the world indifferently, a fearful enemy to Sin."
Sorrow swept her hair from off her marble brow, and tried to collect herself. As memory stirred, her eyes began to flash again; but their light died down almost immediately. Yes, she had grown terrible, as terrible as Pain had desired in his fierce vengeance, as terrible as she needed to be to put a curb on Sin. Poor little Sorrow!