Through the sombre shadows stole the rich, swelling notes of the organ which woke to life under the skilful fingers of the blind girl. A few great notes pealed from the mighty mouths of the pipes--Cecilia played the majestic melody, which floated grandly through the church--and then the volume of melodious sound sank downward to a low-breathed whisper as Blake began the "Cujus animam" with one resonant note which rang out like the sound of a silver trumpet. "Cujus animam gementem Contristantur et dolentem Pertransivit gladius." The voice of the singer seemed to float high in the air like that of some unseen angel hidden in the golden clouds, while far below the roll and thunder of the organ seemed to rise and fall like sullen surges beating upon a lonely shore. Una closed her eyes as that superb voice with its penetrating sweetness rang out the mournful words with an intensity of dramatic feeling which went to her very soul with its strong religious fervour. As the last note died away Una heard a voice behind her say "Bravo," and on turning her head saw Dr. Nestley standing close to her accompanied by a tall dark man whom she recognized at once as Basil Beaumont. CHAPTER IX. THE VIEWS OF A CYNIC. To rule mankind is all I crave And at my feet to see them curled, For if you make the world your slave You'll ne'er be slave unto the world. Evidently Dr. Nestley had become friendly with his quondam enemy, for both gentlemen now seemed to be on the best of terms with one another. Either the doctor had succumbed to the wonderful personal fascinations of Beaumont, or the artist had convinced Nestley that he was wrong in regarding him in a hostile manner. On recognizing Miss Challoner, the young physician came forward to greet her, while Beaumont remained in the background lost in admiration at the wonderful beauty of her face, which appealed strongly to his artistic nature. "I didn't expect to find you here, Miss Challoner," said Nestley eagerly; "my friend and I heard the singing and came in to listen; by the way, will you permit me to introduce Mr. Beaumont?" Una bowed a little coldly, for she remembered what Reginald had said about the artist, but, hearing his name mentioned, Beaumont came forward and was formally presented. In spite of her distrust, Una could not but admire the handsome, tired-looking face she beheld and was still further impressed by the peculiar _timbre_ of his voice when he began to talk. Beaumont certainly possessed in no small degree that wonderful fascination of manner attributed to the ill-fated Stewarts of Scotland which atoned so much for their fickleness, treachery and ingratitude. "It is Mr. Blake who is singing, I think," observed Basil idly, "he has a wonderful voice." "Yes," answered Una with a pleased smile. "I have never heard a finer--not even in Germany." "Ah! you have been in Germany, Miss Challoner?" "For some years--I stayed at Munich."