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feared or wished she hardly knew or dared to think. She had stepped suddenly from the child to the woman, and met, as she was at the very outset, by all the perils of womanhood, she found the task a hard one.

Mansfield's look and manner that morning had increased her agitation.

He said he was unShe would willingly But then that

well and oppressed by heat. believe that such was the case. fierce, angry glance rested on the young artist, at least, Alice thought-feared-it did. Why was that? The painter clearly did not know him. His indignation, therefore, could not arise from any injury he might have suffered at Wilson's hands. There was a mystery she could not unravel. She tried to persuade herself that she might, after all, be mistaken; but determined to ask Mansfield how he came to know the artist.

On the following evening Mansfield dropped in to tea, and to Alice's inquiries replied that he had suffered severely from sickness nearly all the previous day, but was now quite restored to health. His manners were more than usually polished, and his conversation sparkled with wit and fancy. It is said that the eye is a traitor to the mind; but Mansfield could control his eye with the same ease as his other features. He spoke of religion, and

his look was serious and impressive. He spoke of charities, public and private, and his eye lit up with animation. Alice felt her heart swell when he described the value of a poor man's blessing. Then he satirized with harmless raillery the foibles of society, until Alice laughed the tears into her eyes. She did not, however, forget her intention, and, towards the close of the evening, introduced the subject of her portrait. She saw, or thought she saw, some slight hesitation on Mansfield's part to approach the subject. Not that the mask had fallen for one instant, and the change, if any, was so slight, that Alice, when alone, tried to persuade herself it was the work of her own fancy. Mansfield praised the painting, and asked where the artist came from.

"You do not know him, then?" said Alice inquiringly.

Quick as lightning Mansfield read her thoughts; but, without showing the least knowledge of what was passing in her mind, he said in an open, truthful tone: "No, I never saw him before yesterday." It was true Mansfield had never seen him before.

Alice was sorely perplexed, and when the evening was over, and she pondered in her quiet room over the events of the two passed days, she could not

but believe him. The words so calmly, quietly spoken-" I never saw him before yesterday”— rung in her ears. She thought of the change she had observed when the artist was mentioned, and she strove, but still in vain, to forget the face in the mirror.

But

"I am a weak and foolish girl," said she, at length," and I won't think about it any more. still," she continued, looking round the room with a half shudder, "I can't help thinking he looked very angry at Mr. Wilson yesterday. I wish I knew what all this meant. It is very mysterious." Alice's thoughts were not to be easily shaken off. The face in the mirror haunted her. It glared out of the glass, it peeped over the windowblinds, in some strange way it seemed to be looking through the door, and when she had put out the candle and got into bed she found that face hanging over in the surrounding darkness, and coming slowly nearer and nearer, until she fancied she felt a hand touch her, and strange breath on her face.

Terrified at the sight, she sprang from her bed, and rung the bell violently. In an instant the waiting-maid and governess were at her side. Her beautiful face was whiter than her night-dress, and, pressing her hands convulsively together, she looked tremblingly behind at the spot where she

fancied the hideous head had hung suspended. Her eyes had a strange unnatural glare, and she seemed to be unaware of the presence of her attendants. Again she looked behind her, repeating, in a low tremulous voice: "The face in the mirror! the face in the mirror!" Her strength seemed to fail her, the eyes closed, she staggered a step forwards, and fell, with a low moan, into the arms of her governess, who sprang to catch her. For a few minutes she lay powerless and deathlike in Mrs. Turner's embrace, her head hanging back and her long hair streaming to the ground. They laid her gently on the bed, and bathed her temples with restoratives. She opened her eyes and gazed wildly at them.

"Poor dear, have you been dreaming?" said Mrs. Turner soothingly.

Her governess's gentle voice restored her to herself, she covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. Mrs. Turner let them flow uninterrupted, knowing it was the best relief to her overwrought feelings. Presently Alice sat up on the bed, and threw her arms round the kind old lady's neck, saying: "Don't leave me, dear, I've been frightened, I saw something in the room. I'll tell you all to-morrow."

"Never fear, my love," replied Mrs. Turner, “I

won't leave you. Now you are quiet again. Now

try to go to sleep."

Exhausted by what had passed, Alice sank back "Give me your hand,” she said,

on her pillow.

in a low voice.

Mrs. Turner gave her hand, and Alice held it firmly for protection.

Motionless she lay in bed, and an occasional sigh only showed she was still awake; after a time that ceased also, and her soft, regular breathing proved she had fallen asleep.

Mrs. Turner rose, and softly releasing her hand, drew an arm-chair to the bed-side, and watched the pale sleeper till morning broke in on them; and then, overpowered by fatigue, her head sank forward, and in a few seconds all the house slept soundly.

The sun was shining brightly on the windowblinds, and the birds chirped gaily on the branches of an old tree which grew beside her bedroom, when Alice awoke from her slumbers. She had a confused recollection of the terror of the past night; and when she looked around the room, now lit up with bright sunshine, she wondered how her fears had so overmastered her. She looked at herself in the glass. Rest had carried off the exhaustion, and, though still a little pale, she was herself

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