When the children set out again on their journey, the woman gave Goldilocks a loving kiss, and then embraced Despard, saying,—
“For the sake of your sweet sister, I love even you.”
“Poor little brother,” said Goldilocks when they had gone farther on their journey, “you are as good as I; but how is it? you make people weep, while I must go with you to dry the tears you call forth.”
“I am a black cloud,” groaned Despard, “you a sunbeam.”
“But I like to have a cloud to shine on,” said loving little Goldilocks.
Footsore and weary, the little pilgrims travelled on; and, when they had gone from north to south, and back again, the Sibyl met them with tender kisses; and, when they were refreshed, bade them go forth again.
“For,” said she, “this world is always new, my dears. The people who are born to-day were not here yesterday; and every mortal must see the faces of my foster-children.”
It was now the Brazen Age, and Despard and Goldilocks had grown to be a youth and maiden; but still they travelled on. The Iron Age came; and Despard’s raven hair was frosted; but Goldilocks’ curls never faded. Let her live as long as live she may, she can never grow old.
Their pilgrimage is not over yet; nor will it be while the earth revolves about the sun. The brother and sister come to every house; they knock at every door.
To all the children who open their eyes upon the light, come Despard and Goldilocks, the bitter and the sweet of life, the twin angels of Happiness and Sorrow.