Very strange, it must be confessed, was the movement with which the figure floated to and fro over the carpet, with the silvery veil covering her from head to foot; so impalpable, so ethereal, so without substance, as the texture seemed, yet hiding her every outline in an impenetrability like that of midnight.  Surely, she did not walk!  She floated, and flitted, and hovered about the room; no sound of a footstep, no perceptible motion of a limb; it was as if a wandering breeze wafted her before it, at its own wild and gentle pleasure.  But, by and by, a purpose began to be discernible, throughout the seeming vagueness of her unrest.  She was in quest of something.  Could it be that a subtile presentiment had informed her of the young man’s presence?  And if so, did the Veiled Lady seek or did she shun him?  The doubt in Theodore’s mind was speedily resolved; for, after a moment or two of these erratic flutterings, she advanced more decidedly, and stood motionless before the screen.

“Thou art here!” said a soft, low voice.  “Come forth, Theodore!” Thus summoned by his name, Theodore, as a man of courage, had no choice.  He emerged from his concealment, and presented himself before the Veiled Lady, with the wine-flush, it may be, quite gone out of his cheeks.

“What wouldst thou with me?” she inquired, with the same gentle composure that was in her former utterance.

“Mysterious creature,” replied Theodore, “I would know who and what you are!”

“My lips are forbidden to betray the secret,” said the Veiled Lady.

“At whatever risk, I must discover it,” rejoined Theodore.

“Then,” said the Mystery, “there is no way save to lift my veil.”

And Theodore, partly recovering his audacity, stept forward on the instant, to do as the Veiled Lady had suggested.  But she floated backward to the opposite side of the room, as if the young man’s breath had possessed power enough to waft her away.

“Pause, one little instant,” said the soft, low voice, “and learn the conditions of what thou art so bold to undertake.  Thou canst go hence, and think of me no more; or, at thy option, thou canst lift this mysterious veil, beneath which I am a sad and lonely prisoner, in a bondage which is worse to me than death.  But, before raising it, I entreat thee, in all maiden modesty, to bend forward and impress a kiss where my breath stirs the veil; and my virgin lips shall come forward to meet thy lips; and from that instant, Theodore, thou shalt be mine, and I thine, with never more a veil between us.  And all the felicity of earth and of the future world shall be thine and mine together.  So much may a maiden say behind the veil.  If thou shrinkest from this, there is yet another way.”  “And what is that?” asked Theodore.  “Dost thou hesitate,” said the Veiled Lady, “to pledge thyself to me, by meeting these lips of mine, while the veil yet hides my face?  Has not thy heart recognized me?  Dost thou come hither, not in holy faith, nor with a pure and generous purpose, but in scornful scepticism and idle curiosity?  Still, thou mayest lift the veil!  But, from that instant, Theodore, I am doomed to be thy evil fate; nor wilt thou ever taste another breath of happiness!”