The Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1???-1928, 1907-11-17
THAT IDEAL FACE.
BY
ROBERT CARLTON BROWN

| Had he reached out his hand at
that moment he could have touched
! her
There she stood, plainly outlined be-
| fore him, and yet Wallace did not
| reach out and touch her--for just then
he woke UP.
1t was with a pang that he realized
that she was not real--that she was
not there.
Slowly he pulled on his clothes
thinking ever of that face, it mad been
50 near to him And yet IL was but
dream The realization maddened
him, for now he knew that 1t was
the face Of his ideal
The face haunted him; he could not
get It off his mind, Somewhere some
time, he had looked into those eyes
before. But where where?
All during breakfast he thought Of
It, and now he had suddenly realized
that he knew 1t, that he was familiar
with It's every feature.
But who was she? He was dimly
conscious that he saw that face daily
But why--why had he never realized
before that this really was his ideal,
why had lie not thought Of IL when
he had seen her, for surely this WIS
the girl, the only one whom Wallace
ever could love?
The strangcness of the situation
bothered him, to think That he had
seen this face daily aud never be
fore had realized that she was the one
for whom he had searched SO long
lie blessed the dream which had
brought the realization and determine
ton to find her--and win her
Not one face did he miss on his
ride to the city that morning He was
certain Of finding her somewhere, she
was 50 familiar Aud yet Try as hard
us he might, he could remember noth-
Ing of her except that face. those
eyes which he was certain he looked
into daily
lie did not discover his ideal on
the car but he knew that some time
during the day he would confront her.
There could be no doubt Of that. and
as he walked slowly to the office no
began building more grand and os-
travagant air castles than he had yet
allowed himself to indulge in
During the morning he walked
through the several Offices whore he
was in the habit of going; searching
always for the ideal that had been
revealed to him in the dream, and
certain that he would find her
Al noon be still was hopeful and
stood on the corner before going toI
lunch in the hope of finding that
face.
Queer, he unused to himself She
must be somewhere I'll swear I've
seen that face every day for the
last sis months. | wonder where she
can be?"
The whole morning had been wasted
in his futile search SO that afternoon
he turned resolutely to his work and
banislcd the face--the ideal-for the
time being.
A stenographer stepped into his
office, he looked up eagerly, hoping.
ever hoping-but no, il was not
she.
Somehow the work would not go /
right, and at three Wallace pushed /
back his papers peevishIy, closed up
his desk, and sat dreaming.
His eyes roved about the room alb. |
stractedy. He left his chair. walked
TO the window, stood pensively lean
ing ON his elbow. and looking far out |
over the city with vacant. lovers |
stare.
He must find that face--that ideal |
lie could not work, he could not be I
himself, without e.
Suddenly his eyes started he press
ed his face against the window pane
in his excitement, and stared straight
ahead of him
Slowly the color left his cheeks. his
hands dropped Imply to his sides his
head bowed. and sad look came
into his eyes as he passed his cold /
hand over his feyerish forehead.
For there, across the street, on .
huge signboard, was that face-the
ideal face-a fanclfm creation Of tho
art, painted in iariHg
colors. and her eyes-they were LOOK
ing deep into his as he stood there
cursing the dream-the ideal-that
had caused such havoc In his heart.