Tired and sad he left the child,
But he quickly re-appeared,
And with him the lady of the house—
Poor Marian's heart was cheered.
"Sweet little girl," the lady said,
In accents soft and kind,
"I'm sure you sadly want some rest,
And rest you soon shall find."
To a room where three young ladies sat,
The child was quickly led;
"Piety, Prudence, and Charity,"
To herself she softly said.
"What is your name, my little dear?"
Said the eldest of the three,
Whom Marian, in her secret thought,
Had christened Piety.
"We'll send a servant to your friends,
How uneasy they must be!"
Admiringly she watched the child,
Who, indeed, was fair to see;
Around her bright and lovely face
Fell waves of auburn hair,
As modestly she told her name,
With whom she lived and where.
"How did you lose your way, my love?"
She gently raised her head;
"I do not think I've lost my way,"
The little Pilgrim said.
