Page:Weird Tales v02n04 (1923-11).djvu/74



T WAS a new house which we had rented for the summer. I was alone in the large living-room, watching two kittens frolicking on the floor, when some one near me laughed softly. On one side of the room was a full length cheval mirror, and diagonally across hung a triplicate mirror.

As I turned to discover who had come in, I saw reflected in the central glass of the three-fold mirror the piquant face of a young girl who was smiling softly at the kittens. She wore a large hat of gauzy material which partly hid dark ringlets of hair that clustered around the clear olive skin, and I noticed how white and perfect were the teeth disclosed by the parted lips. Suddenly two soft dark eyes looked straight into mine. A look came over her face like that of a child caught in some naughty act, and then she disappeared.

I rushed to the door to reassure her; I ran around the house; I vaulted the stone wall at the rear and hurried along the edge of the woods. Not a glimpse of the girl did I catch.

"Hiding behind a tree," I muttered. "I won't gratify her by hunting."

I supposed she must be some neighbor's daughter, but no one in the vicinity seemed to know of any girl that answered my description, and I was beginning to forget the occurrence, when she appeared again.

This time I was playing on the violin when, in turning the music, I noticed how the triplicate mirror was reflected in the long glass near me. I dared not move for fear of frightening this mysterious maiden for whom I had so vainly inquired. So I smiled encouragingly, and said quietly:

"Come in! Do not be afraid. Can't we be friends?"

She nodded brightly, but when I turned to welcome her the room was empty. I felt annoyed, and resolved to pay no further attention to so capricious a creature. Yet, when I returned to my seat, the face in the mirror was still gazing at me sadly and appealingly.

"Are you trying to play a joke on me?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Would you not like to be friends with me?"

An emphatic nod was her reply.

"If you will not come in and talk to me, how can we be friends?"

A puzzled look came over her face, and then the mirror was empty.

"Of all the queer girls!" I thought, and this time I went outside, walked to the end of the piazza, and came back as mystified as ever.

"That glass is certainly bewitched," I said, thinking of the enchanted ones in my child-time fairy books. Suddenly fingers appeared in it, holding a slip of paper.

"Shades of Julius Caesar!" I ejaculated, "This house must be haunted, but, whether fairy or spirit, she doesn't look very formidable. I will see how far I can unravel the mystery."

I went nearer to the glass and read: "I can come so that you can see me, only in this way."

Evidently she could hear and comprehend, so I said aloud: "Is it because you won't or can't?"

The paper disappeared, and soon another took its place. It read: "Because I can't."

"Can you explain why?"

For answer she herself appeared and sadly shook her head. Now that she was nearer I saw that was very attractive. Her face was thoughtful, and her eyes, which had been merry as she watched the kittens, now startled me with their sadness. Impulsively, I advanced, desiring her to feel sure of my friendliness, but when I came close to the mirror her face disappeared, and I saw only the reflection of my own.

"I don't believe you really want to be friends," I exclaimed, somewhat angrily, and, turning away, I left the room.

HE stone wall behind the house divided our land from that of Professor Dolber, the world-renowned scientist. As he was called a recluse I was much pleased to be invited there a few days later for luncheon.

In the dining-room I was at first so engrossed in my host's conversation and in the subtle melancholy of his face that I was oblivious to anything else. At last I noticed two oil paintings on my right, and was much surprised to find in one a portrait of the girl in my mirror.

As the professor followed my gaze, I remarked: "That is a fine likeness, only now she looks older and more thoughtful."

He gave me a curious look, but said nothing.

"How old was she then?" I asked.

"Do you mean my daughter?" he said. "That was painted in Holland four years ago."

"Your daughter? I am glad to discover who she is. I hope we shall meet. I know we both like kittens."

His amazed stare checked me. I bit my lip in vexation. It occurred to me that he would scarcely approve of his daughter's coming alone to see me, so I changed the subject and began discussing a new scientific discovery.

When I reached home the daughter of the Episcopal rector was calling on my sister. This young lady was much interested in my good fortune in finding Mr. Dolber so sociable. Although he had many distinguished visitors from all parts of the world, she said he was a man whom strangers found it difficult to approach.

"Do you know his daughter?" I asked.

"His daughter? Was a young lady there? It must have been some visitor. He has no family."

"But the portrait—he told me it was painted from his daughter."

"Yes, wasn't she a beauty? It must have been very hard for him to lose his only child, and his wife died of grief only two months later."

No wonder the man had stared at me! He must have thought me either stupid or crazy! But the mirror—I had supposed that I had found a clue, but now the affair had assumed the proportions of a real mystery. How could I ever solve it?