to her, and live where you may daily hear the sound of her voice and
often feel the touch of her loving hands, which have been consecrated to
holy service. God for some wise purpose hath made you blind, but He has
put it into my heart, His servant, to do this thing for you. In the name
of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen."

So she went among them, this little blind maid, and the nuns of that
Carmelite convent called her the "Blessing of the Pope," and they loved
her the more because her name was Mary.

Grace, now free from the passionate desires which had driven her there,
made prayers for Basil as a good sister makes supplication for her
favorite brother, and she found favor not only in the sight of those about
her, but in the eyes of the Lord. The old pain in her conscience about the
little blind sister left out in the world had been removed, and she
secretly and openly rejoiced in the companionship of Mary.

Basil and Rose lived in the big city of smoke and commerce, but no
unkindly chance brought them together. She led that life which suited her
best. She followed out her own selfish desires, which were not many, and
easy to gratify. She made no friends, and was not lonely; because she had
never known the sweet and the joy of real companionship.

He (Basil) lived at the club. They spoke of him as being well preserved,
whatever that means. He was popular, went to good dinners, and frequently
gave them, yet--ah! that little word yet! Yet he sometimes made pause in
the social round, and alone, by his own fireside, caught the sound of a
voice which he had not heard for years, and the fleeting glimpse of a
woman's face which he had fondly loved. Had loved? Yes, still loved. Then
the vision of convent walls, a Carmelite cloister, a sister kneeling at
the shrine of the Blessed Virgin praying for him, and by her side, feeling
her way to the altar rail, Mary, the little blind maid, repeating a
fervent amen to her sister's petition; then--darkness about him, cold
ashes on the hearth, and in his heart a shiver of regret and a feeling of
unworthiness.

In that Carmelite convent this is the prayer each night of little Mary,
blind, but happy: "God, give my dear sister Rose more kindness and
sweetness. God, keep my good and beautiful sister Grace, and may God
please send a big, strong angel to help my Uncle Basil make a good fight.
Give him faith, and afterwhile a mansion and a crown in that pretty land
where l