tall, strange gentleman.

He did not see Betty; his brows were knitted and his lips twitching
strangely under his heavy dark moustache; with folded arms he stood
leaning against the pillar, and looking down upon the fair figure of
the recumbent child in front of him. Then he stooped, and taking up
one of the fading lilies across the child's hands looked at it
wonderingly.

'The picture more lasting than the thing itself,' he muttered; 'it is
all that is left us; the fragile productions of nature cannot exist
long in this hard, rough world, and yet how I tried to shield her from
every blast!'

A slight whine from Prince startled him, and looking round he pulled
himself together sternly.

'What are you doing here, little girl?'

Almost the same words that had been said to her in the wood the other
day; and Betty began to wonder if she were again on forbidden ground.

'Does the church belong to you?' she asked, standing her ground, and
looking up through her long dark lashes rather shyly; 'am I where I
oughtn't to be? I came to see that little girl.'

He looked at her.

'What do you know about her?'

'I don't know anything, but I want to know. I love her, and I've
brought her some more flowers.'

'Did you put these lilies here?'

'Yes; they're quite dead now, aren't they?'

'Of course they are; this is the place of death.'

Betty did not understand the bitter tone; but she said simply, pointing
to the child's figure, 'She isn't really dead, is she? She has gone to
sleep. I was thinking, when I was here before, if Jesus would only
just walk out of that window and touch her hands with His, she would
open her eyes and get up. I should like to see her, wouldn't you? I
watched her the other day till I almost thought I saw her move. But
she will wake up one day, won't she?'

There was no answer.

Betty slipped her little hand in his. 'Would you give her these
forget-me-nots, or lift me up so that I can do it?' She had dropped
Prince, who was sniffing suspiciously round the gentleman's heels, and
waited anxiously for his reply. He took her in his arms, and held her
there whilst she placed the flowers in the position she wished; and
then, before she was lifted down, she said softly, 'I think she is
really singing up in heaven. I like to believe she is there, but I'm
not quite sure. Do you know if she came out of tribulation?'

'Why should she?'

'Because it says, about those in white robes with