Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1899-12-09
THE MIRROR-ROOM
BY LOUISE CHANDLER MoULToN.

BY LOUISE CHANDLER MoULToN.
1t hsd gone to sleep 10 the sun
shine, the old, sad-colored, wood
covered house stained by summer
showers, battered by winter storms.
Down through the shedowing trees,
sifled like fine gold, rain Of sun
light. The hot June day had flush
ed the earth with lis dismaying
spiendors. Red, old fashioned gar.
den roses checked the paths and per-
fumed tue air in the old garden back
OF the rambling old house. | had
come to Silent Shades, as the old
place was called, because | wanted
breathing-spsce. I was tired of
the city.
"There is Silent Shades" my
mother suggested, as I was siehing
for a retreat where / could dream,
be idle and enjoy passively to my
heart content. "Your grandmother
would welcome you gladly. There
is your aunt Winlfred, to be sure,
but you would not sec much of her."
So to Silen, Shades | had come
| had beer here only a week, and
already it seemed homelike and
pleasant to me beyond any place /
had ever known. / loved to rcam
aboutth Q rambling old rooms, COM
ing unexpectedly, at every turn, to
some quaint little nook l had never
seen before; some oriel window look.
ing out upon rare vistas of beauty;
some closet that you could fancy
had been built for an ora.ory.
One room in particular, was my
delight. The shutters were always
closed AL the sunlight that was
there stole in through their chinks,
and only served to enhance instead
of illuminate tue dimness and mys-
terry. The great o | d-fashioned
chairs and sofas reared their high,
carven backs, and stood up tall and
straight, like sentinels. A strange,
mummy-like oder exbaled from the
quaint Indian cabinets of sandal
wood and ivory. Above all. an
enormous mirror, nearly filing one
end of the apartment. lent peculiar
aspect of glamoury 10 the weird
place, and reminded one of those
magic mirror wherein the wiz ,rds of
other days were wont to reveal the
secrets of many turbulent life.
In front Of this mirror | used to sit,
half fancying that | saw in its depths
the fore fathers and loremothcrs of
my race-young forms with roses
on their brows, loye.lighs 10 their
eyes.
This apartment was called the
Mitror-room.
| went in there on the june morn.
ing of which | write. The still
beauty OF out doors had overpowered
me. 1t seemed to me that the flow
ers bssking in the moon light gave
forth dangerous sweetness. The
sun looked at me with warmth
too burniDg-a passion whose blind
ing heat seemed fateful. l took re-
fuge in the mystic room with its
cool shadows. / drew one of the 81
fashioned caryen chairs in front of
the cleaning depth of crystal and
sat there trying TO penetrate my own
future-watching the shadows of my
dreams come and go in the magic
mirror.
Suddenly the touch of a hand
startled me. l had heard no step,
but the cold fingers rested on my
shoulder, felt them, like The touch
of tie dead. | dared not turn my
head, but looking into tie mirror |
saw, little above me, the face of
my aunt WinifIed. 1t was strange
face. Every feature was high-bred
and delicate. There were no wrink
les-no lines, such as time pepciles
like monumental inscriptions 10 de.
parted youth. The cheeks were as
delicately rounded, the outlines all
as symctriesl, as at eighteen. What
made it singular was that every trat e
of color had literally blanched cut
of it. The hair, which she wore in
riDglets as had been the fashion of
her youth, was white IS the threads
of a silver tassel. The face, even to
the;lips, wore pallor lie marble.
Not one touch of anything bus this
dead whi,e anywhere save in the
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