companion, our eyes met. It was only for a moment--but the sensation
of a moment often makes the thought of a life; and that one little
instant made the new life of my heart. She put down her veil again
immediately; her lips moved involuntarily as she lowered it: I thought
I could discern, through the lace, that the slight movement ripened to
a smile.

Still there was enough left to see--enough to charm. There was the
little rim of delicate white lace, encircling the lovely, dusky
throat; there was the figure visible, where the shawl had fallen open,
slender, but already well developed in its slenderness, and
exquisitely supple; there was the waist, naturally low, and left to
its natural place and natural size; there were the little millinery
and jewellery ornaments that she wore--simple and common-place enough
in themselves--yet each a beauty, each a treasure, on _her._ There was
all this to behold, all this to dwell on, in spite of the veil. The
veil! how little of the woman does it hide, when the man really loves
her!

We had nearly arrived at the last point to which the omnibus would
take us, when she and her companion got out. I followed them,
cautiously and at some distance.

She was tall--tall at least for a woman. There were not many people in
the road along which we were proceeding; but even if there had been,
far behind as I was walking, I should never have lost her--never have
mistaken any one else for her. Already, strangers though we were, I
felt that I should know her, almost at any distance, only by her walk.

They went on, until we reached a suburb of new houses, intermingled