Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1903-09-12
BEFORE THE MIRROR.

! TRANCE. To be sure, it is in my hand
writing, and l sometimes walk in my
| sleep.
| After all, who knows how it happen
| ed? l had decided to publish it. think
| ing that it may remind careless people
| of their duties to others and how soon
| the time for doing those duties must
| end. She is better off, no doubt. but L
miss her as 1 never thought to miss
stranger:
One evening l sat brOoding over
memories of happier days in my faroff
home before poverty overlook me.
cried out passlonately that could no
longer endure this starving existence,
stripped of all the pleasures that were
so keenly appreciated by me in the
past. l determined that would escape
somehow.
Suddenly recalled a Halloween ira
dition that If one stood, candle in hand.
before q mirror at midnight and called
ones name aloud three times something
| wonderful would happen. Was this the
way to escape from my troubles? 1 de-
termined to try the experiment.
When it was nearly II crept softly
down the stairs and entered the parlor.
Holding lighted candle, stood before
the old mirror whose furnished gilded
frame cleaned family in the Pickering
light
AS the last stroke died away 1 called
| my name aloud. The stately syllables
echoed in my ears with unfamiliar ca
| dences, AleXia FEstrange. Again
called, this time with greater effort,
and the mirror reflected only a sketch
OF face in tints as faint as those of
dissOlvinG rainbow. For the third time
l strove to call my name. A hOarse
murmur, scarcely Ineligible, passed
my lips, while the face in the mirror
faded to Il misty shadow.
For moment l was unconscious and
then a silvery radiance seemed slowly
to fill the room and fall on something
lying prone before the mirror. Gradu-
ally l realized that l was still in the
same place and that the mysterious ra-
dance was the light of the autumn
moon. But what was that PROSTATE
form whose clear cut, pallid features
woke fleeting, tantalizinG memories?
My mind seemed to wander amid u
host of vivid life pictures, and through
them all fitted one figure. the double
of that lying still and cold before me.
Suddenly with II sickening shock came
the conviction that it was my body.
''Is it !? :" was the cry wrung from
my anguished heart.
No sound disturbed the sudden still
ness, but in some inexplicable way
felt that had asked that question and
knew that it would be answered,
though l could not tell whence the re-
ply would come.
Still the silence was unbrokCn. The
chill of the unwelcoming breast made
my spirit faint, and the childish face
stiffened into Il sternness that drove me
Shuddering to the farthest limit of the
room. At last l realized that l was
dead. and Il strange indifference sue
Ceeded the tumult of nope and fear.
What did it matter?
Presently the door opened, and my
landlady entered the room. l saw the
shock that l had felt reelected in her
face and heard her expression of SYM
pathetic sorrow. At least l knew these
things somehow, though my eyes and
ears were forever closed.
Still the time passed. People came
from the church, the undertaken came
with his assistant, a brief service was
held, and they carried my body away.
Again l murmurcd in fear and sor-
row, What will become of me?'
Restlessly l wandered through the
house. 1t was night, and my good
landlady had retired.
Suddenly l remembered that she was
subject to attacks of sleepwalking,
and the thought occurred to me that
might control her body while in that
condition.
Here, then, was the tool ready to my
hand. In an instant 1 was beside her
She stirred uneasily in her sleep and
murmured, Poor girlr'
1 willed that she should write my
strange, sad story as warning, for
my heart cried out to all my fellow
beings, from whose presence 1 was
fading. BE kind to each other while
you live"
l concentrated all my thought on the
woman, and my will moved her I'M
conscious body.
She descended the stairs. entered the
parlor and sat ut the secretary. Me
chanically she took pen in her hand, |
and slowly this strange story grew be-
meath her touch.
Once more l stand before the mirror, |
a slender, shadowy shape, and wistful- |
~ take my last look at the familiar |
face therein. Brown and wavy locks. |
scarcely more substantial than puffs of |
smoke, frame a pallid, oval face The |
lips are faded to n faint rose tint. and |
the melancholy, dark blue eyes seem
to hold all the life of the fading face.
While 1 gaze the tints grow fainter, |
and white mist gathers over all that |
is left of poor Alexia rEstrange. Fare
well, reproa chful face! 1 mean you no |
harm. How could know that my des-
perate experiment would end thus? |
And yet would 1 undo it If could? 1 |
think not. 1 try to pierce that shroud- |
ing mist that hides the once familiar |