the great Creator who had so many cries constantly going up to him. She
had not realized before how big the world was and how small a part her
little affairs played in the plan of the great universe. A longing for
some closer communion than she had known before drew her toward this
church, of which Derrick Jaynes was the rector. The door was unlocked,
and the slender black figure slipped in unobserved. In the big empty
church her desolate little moan was all unheard and unheeded, as she
knelt at the altar sobbing, "Oh, God, I don't know what will become of
me if you do not help me now! Oh, show me 'mine inheritance!'"

Three times during that week she went back to that same place with that
same cry. The last time she went some one was in the church. It was the
organist, practising some new Easter music for the next day's services.
A burst of triumphant melody greeted her as she noiselessly opened the
side door. She met the florist coming out, for he had just completed the
decorating, and the place was a mass of bloom. All around the chancel
stood the tall, white Easter lilies, waiting, like the angels in the
open tomb, with their glad resurrection message--"He is risen!"

As Mildred stood with clasped hands, an unspoken prayer rising with the
organ's jubilant tones and the incense of the lilies, she felt a touch
on her shoulder. It was the white-haired old minister.

"I saw you come in," he said, in a whisper. "I have been trying all day
to find time to call at your aunt's to talk with you. You do not know,
but I have been in correspondence several times this winter regarding
you, with a Mr. Rowland. He wrote me when you first came that his wife
and daughter were deeply interested in you, and wanted to be kept
informed of your welfare. This morning I received a letter which needs
your personal answer. I am very busy now, but shall try to see you