s is
Dorothy. I am sure you two girls will love each other dearly."

Dorothy, turned hastily toward the direction from whence the sound
proceeded, holding out her little white hands nervously, a great hectic
flush stealing up into her pale face.

"Welcome to Gray Gables, Miss Vincent--Iris," she said in her sweet,
tremulous, girlish voice. "I--I would cross the room to where you are
standing, if I could, but I can not. I can not look upon your face to
welcome you, for--I am--blind!"

There was a _frou-frou_ of skirts upon the velvet carpet, and the next
moment Iris Vincent's arms were about her.

"There could not be a sweeter welcome, Dorothy--if I may call you
so--and I am sure we shall get on famously together," murmured Miss
Vincent, and a pair of ripe red lips met Dorothy's; but the kiss was as
light as the brush of a butterfly's wings against the petals of a rose,
and there was no warmth in the clasp of the soft, ringed fingers.

Somehow, although the stranger's voice was sweet as the sound of a
silver lute, and her manner caressing, Dorothy did not feel quite at
home with her.

"If I should judge by the tone of her voice and the words she utters, my
fancy would lead me to believe that she was very beautiful," thought
Dorothy. "But then Katy said that she was plain, very plain of face,
although Harry has said that she was beautiful. No doubt he wanted to
leave a good impression on my mind regarding her."

The evening that followed was a happy one for Dorothy, because, even
without being coaxed, Harry signified his intention of remaining in the
house, instead of going out to the club, as was his custom.

It had always been a deep grievance of Dorothy's that her musical
accomplishments were so meager.

She only knew a few accompaniments that she had picked up, while Miss
Vincent played divinely.

And her voice--ah! it sounded like the chiming of silver bells. And
then, too, she knew so many beautiful songs, and they were all such
tender love songs.

She was so glad that Harry liked them, too, and her poor face would
flush scarlet, and her white lids droop over her sightless eyes, as the
sweet singer's voice rose and thrilled over some tender love words; for
she felt sure that her Harry was looking at her with all love's tender
passion in his glorious dark eyes.

CHAPTER XI.

It was quite late when the group that was gathered in the drawing-room
dispersed that evening; but when the girls found