"You have had, if I understand you, at least a glimpse of her countenance?"
"Yes. Once, in passing her, her veil was half drawn aside, as if to get a freer draught of air."
"And her face?"
"Was thin and pale."
"And beautiful?"
"So I should call it. Not pretty—not a mere doll's face—but intellectually beautiful; yet full of softness. In fact, the face of a woman with a mind and heart. But sorrow has touched her—and pain. And, above all, the marks of crushed affection were too plainly visible upon her young countenance. All this could be seen at the single glance I obtained, before her veil was drawn hurriedly down."
"Strange that she should seek so to hide her face from every eye. Can it be that she is some one we have known, who has fallen so low?"
"No, I think not," replied Milford. "I am certain that I have never seen her before. Her face is a strange one to me. At least the glance I had revealed no familiar feature."
"Well, I, for one, am resolved to know more about her," remarked Perkins, as the two friends paused before separating. "Since she has awakened so sudden, and yet so strong an interest in my mind, I should feel that I was not doing right if I made no effort to learn something of her true position in our city, where, I am much inclined to think, she is a stranger."
The young men, after a few more words, separated, Perkins getting into an "hourly" and going over to Charlestown to see a man on some business who could not be at his house until late in the day. The transaction of this business took more time than he had expected, and it was nearly an hour after nightfall before he returned to Boston. After passing the "draw," as he crossed the old bridge, he perceived by the light of a lamp, some distance ahead, a female figure hurrying on with rapid steps.