white, and lacked the opalescent transparency of Una's, the golden hair was dull in appearance, without any lustre, and the azure eyes were coldly blue, though in this latter case, being sightless, they naturally did not reflect the soul within, having therefore a lifeless appearance. A sad, patient face it was, stamped with that expression of mute appeal so common to the faces of the blind. She was dressed in a dark gown, with a collar and cuffs of white linen, her bleached-looking hair being coiled smoothly at the back of her head.
"How are you, Cecilia?" asked Una, ascending the chancel steps. "I have come to see about the concert."
"Yes, I was expecting you, Miss," answered the blind girl in a soft, fluty voice which, though low, was distinct and clear. "Is Mr. Blake with you? I thought I heard his step."
"Oh, I'm here," said Blake, advancing towards the organ. "What is the matter--eh?"
"I want you to sing at the concert," replied Cecilia, lightly touching the yellow keys of the organ; "Miss Una, of course, also."
"Let us sing a duet," suggested Una; "'Oh, that we two were Maying,' or something of Mendelssohn's."
"The first is the best," said Reginald quickly. "I think every one will like that. Who else is going to perform, Cecilia?"
"Miss Cassandra and Mr. Priggs," she replied, touching off the names on her fingers. "Mr.----"
"What! Is Priggs going to sing?" interrupted Blake laughing.
"No; recite a piece of his own."
"I hope it will be intelligible."
"How severe you are," said Una smiling.
"Ah! you don't know Ferdinand's poetry," replied Reginald pathetically; "I do. It's a mixture of Keats, Thompson, Browning, Shakespeare----"
"And Priggs," finished Una.
"No, by Jove--that's the only thing it doesn't contain, unless you call halting verse and interminable poems Priggian," said the young man gaily. "Well, go on with the list, Cecilia."
"Dr. Larcher is going to give us a reading," said Cecilia, who had been listening to the analysis with a quiet smile, "and Mr. Pemberton sings a sea song; I think that's all, except Miss Busky and Simon Ruller."
"Last, but not least," remarked Una lightly. "The programme is excellent--let us hope the performers will be as good. It's next week, isn't it?"
"No; on Thursday fortnight," answered Cecilia. "Oh, I forgot, the choir sings a glee."
"And you play a piece, of course," said Reginald gravely. "This is capital. Well, now we've finished business, let us go in for pleasure. I want you to play me the 'Cujus animam.'"
"What for?" asked Una.
"I'm anxious to try my voice," said Blake to her in a low tone, while Miss Mosser turned to the organ. "You know why--you must give me your candid opinion about it--so go down to the end of the church and tell me what you think."
"I'll be a very severe critic," observed Una, 

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