The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-03-27
STORY OF THE GLASS EYE.


weekdays. and trimming my ragged cuffs
when ] go, every other Sunday. TO take
tea with my sister-in-law. Nor have I any
personal peculiarites by which 20 recon-
mend myself to you, a loyer of odd stories
and odd people. except a very common
place fear of thunderstorms: but 1t is this
fear. in a roundabout way, which has
proved my downfall. my misery.
one dark afternoon, about a year and n
half ago, l was crossing a city side street
bent on some simple errand. The strip of
sky between the roofs had been growing
more and more sullen until the whole
street was tunnel of gray, with little
blue sky hole at the end of it. Suddenly
without any warning there came a gulp
of pink fire and a terrific smash. as if the
very roof of the world had been stove in
! plunged into the nearest doorway and
fell up against a dusty clutter of rubbish
AT the noise of my coming, the owner of
the store. or, rather. junk-shop, iounged
forward and surveyed me In amusement
Al every thunder-clap 1 gasped. so that az
last in pity he gave me a seat as far from
the window as possible. And there l sat.
shaking. while the light belched into the
dim room and the heavy air doomed and
Jared.
brighter
the others, and there hanging in the dark
ness above me- L saw a human eye,-a
green, malevolent eye, that seemed to open
out of the shadows and shut into them
again
My heart was pounding. Perhaps I had
been mistaken and was only the victim of
my tangled nerves?-but no, a second flash
showed me that 1 was not, for again the
eye looked at me evilly. intelligently. must
have given some involuntary exclamation.
for the shopkeeper came up to me:
Are you sck?" he asked. II thought l
heard you groan.'
L told him what had startled me. He
looked blank for a moment, then he burst
out laughing, and, striking a match, began
to grope around among the trash on the
shelf above me.
Il happened to see it to-day, don't re-
member where it came FROM" he said, hold
ing something toward me.
l looked. 1t was glass eye, very per-
fectly made. and 1 could have sworn that it
leered at me from his dirty palm!
DO you need one?" he chuckled.
Then l told the most inexplcable lie of
my life; that naked stare seemed command
ing me. Il do" said in a strange voice.
Take it," the man replied, Its of no use
to me.
That evening, when was alone in my
room, took the eye out of my pocket and
examined it idly under the light. At first
l noticed nothing unusual about it except
its exquisite workmanship. so true that L
shuddered at its dead clamminess between
my myers L was about to lay it down,
When l noticed a peculiar shifting in the
pupil. raised it closer to my eyes closer,
and the hair on my body Stiffened like bris-
face reflected there-minutp-
distlnct-WaS not my own! / looked over
my shoulder. In the center of the room
light into every corner. No one was there.
| picked up a magnifying glass from the
TABLE liable ana scrutlnlzed the eye lntentIy.
glass the face showed almost as large as
a miniature; but what wonderful work;
what marvellous paintingi for painting 1
supposed it to be. The face was a woman
and the dark, deWy eyes were full of fear.
Then 1t changed--fiashing baby pink, and
of my shaking hands. l steadied them on
the edge of the table and looked again. Now
the face was older and drawn, with look
of famine the full mouth was pinched to a
coral thread, and the lashes were sticky
with tears.
| did not sleep that night and the sun at
my window found me still porting over my
For month things remained unchanged;
every spare moment of the day or night
was spent bending above the green eye,
with it's wide, velvety pupil, on whose
painted, with its changefuIness its CO.
quetry, its passion, and it's tiny grimaces
of fury? What angered it? What pleased
it? Why was it sometimes round and in
nocent, and again, at no will of mine, pal
lid and fierce with hate?
L bought microscope and fitted the eye
in a slide Still l saw the face, So highly
magnified now that only part of it was
visible at once, circle of the downy flesh
or a Shadowy dimple-pit sunk in the april
cot-colored cheek. And in all my searching
my microscope never revealed single flaw,
from the throat with its double row of
creamy little creases to the crown of red
hair FURNISHED in the ripples like carded
copper. But it was her eyes that spoke to
me most and oftenest when they were full
of such piteous pleading that my heart was
ready to break at, at my heIpltes ssh on
food of passion, then looked dOWn-t0
lose the woman and meet only that one
wide, malignant stare!
one Friday night, late in November, 1
went into my ROOM and, as usual. set up
my microscope and took out the glass eye
u became suddenly cloudy in my hands, as
II deathrlmS were setting on IT. helu
IT nearer, and the face still met my glance,
but oh! such a venomous horrible little
facet old gaunt with mad eyes burning
among the wrinkles like sparks eating in
dry wood. High above the tangled hair
saw a flash of light-a knife-bladei and be-
fore could think it darted at me ana L
dropped the eye on the floor, where it lay in
thousand colorless splinters!
When l realized what had happened was
beside myself with grief. This may sound
absurd TO you, a creature or health ana
muscle who has loved a dozen times-and,
maybe. forgotten thirteen. But am differ
ent. My life has whtened my blood and
locked my heart and the tenderest thing
ever read in wonan's glances is pity Tor
my shiny coat.
Now new emptiness opened in my lie,
q depression that flooded my soul on each
fresh awakening, like a great, great wave
] brOoded over this new mystery, TINS
wretched bag who had menaced me and de-
strOyed my happiness, and | dreamed OF
that other dear woman until there forced
itself on knowledge, certainty, That
she in all her childish beauty, was allVe;
and that. some day, L should meet her ana
hold her in my arms
1t was then that I began my search for
her. ! have stood for hours waiting at the
alter doors for the outpouring OF faces;
watched down the bowling aisles of churches
and in the grimy. hurrying rush of stations
l have peered through the films OF wedding
wells and through the smoke of FACTORIES.
Faces! faces facesi until, when closed my
lids there would pour across them sea OF
flesh color with q million Indifferent eyes
and a million sad mouths
One May evening ! was returning from
a rare holiday that / had spent in The coun-
try. 1t had been a long, idle cay run OF
the sweep of cloud-trails on new grass, OF
glittering leaves and bird whistlings- had
been happy, too, in my heart the same uuil
half-understood hope that must STIR the
folded bud of its opening. NOW 1 was
hurrying toward the little way station that
showed a far-off window spark among the
dark trees. The sun had gone down, ana