t
Hillard House."

"Now, in this mirror, if any in the world, you might be able to see such
a vision, not only at midnight, but on an ordinary afternoon, like this
for instance," said I. "Suppose you stop thinking of Queen Mary for a
minute and concentrate on yourself. Wish with all your heart for the
face of the man you'll love, the man you'll marry, to appear under this
clouded surface of glass."

Barrie looked somewhat impressed by my mysterious tone as well as the
overwhelming romance of her surroundings. She put her face close to the
mirror, and I was about to profit by the situation I'd led up to when
some one stepped between us and looked over the girl's shoulder. It was
Somerled, who must have come in just in time to overhear my advice, and
take advantage of it for himself. But he could not wholly blot me out of
the mirror. Both our faces were there, to be seen by Barrie, "as in a
glass darkly." She gave a little cry of surprise, and wheeled round to
smile at Somerled.

"You came after all!" she exclaimed, forgetting or pretending to forget
the solemn rite which had engaged us. But I must admit I was in a mood
to be almost superstitious about it. I had prophesied to the girl that
she would see reflected the face of the man she was destined to love and
marry. An instant later she had seen two faces, Somerled's and mine.
Would she love one man, and marry the other? Or would only one of these
two men count in her life?

Perhaps Queen Mary's mirror knew. It looked capable of knowing--and
keeping--any secret of the human heart.

* * * * *

That night--oh, my prophetic soul!--Morgan Bennett saw Barrie at the
theatre, and looked at her through his opera-glasses almost as often as
he looked at Mrs. Bal in her gay, exciting comedy-drama, "The Nelly
Affair." The play had been written for the actress and suited her
exactly. In fact its whole success was made by her magnetic personality,
her beauty, and her dresses. She scarcely left the stage, and had
something to do or say every minute, yet I noticed that she found
opportunities to observe where Bennett's eyes were straying. As for
Barrie, she saw nothing, heard nothing, thought of nothing, but her
mother, glorious Barbara, who for this evening was Nelly Blake, a girl
of eighteen, seeming not a day older. Barrie, in a white dress, with her
hair in two long braids (Mrs. Bal thought she was too young to wear it
done up), sat among us i