But what, in good sooth, had become of the Veiled Lady? Had all her
existence been comprehended within that mysterious veil, and was she
now annihilated? Or was she a spirit, with a heavenly essence, but
which might have been tamed down to human bliss, had Theodore been
brave and true enough to claim her? Hearken, my sweet friends,--and
hearken, dear Priscilla,--and you shall learn the little more that
Zenobia can tell you.
Just at the moment, so far as can be ascertained, when the Veiled
Lady vanished, a maiden, pale and shadowy, rose up amid a knot of
visionary people, who were seeking for the better life. She was so
gentle and so sad,--a nameless melancholy gave her such hold upon
their sympathies,--that they never thought of questioning whence she
came. She might have heretofore existed, or her thin substance might
have been moulded out of air at the very instant when they first
beheld her. It was all one to them; they took her to their hearts.
Among them was a lady to whom, more than to all the rest, this pale,
mysterious girl attached herself.
But one morning the lady was wandering in the woods, and there met
her a figure in an Oriental robe, with a dark beard, and holding in
his hand a silvery veil. He motioned her to stay. Being a woman of
some nerve, she did not shriek, nor run away, nor faint, as many
ladies would have been apt to do, but stood quietly, and bade him
speak. The truth was, she had seen his face before, but had never
feared it, although she knew him to be a terrible magician.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146