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Updated: June 23, 2025
It led instead of following or acting coincidently with the reality, and it was the part of wisdom, he thought, for him to yield to its suggestion and retreat; and as he thought this, he heard a soft sweet voice behind him. "I hope you haven't got tired of waiting, Tom," it said; and, turning, Jingleberry saw the unquestionably real Marian standing in the doorway. "No," he answered, shortly.
His confidence in a successful termination to his suit had been reinforced that very morning by the receipt of a note from Miss Chapman asking him to dine with her parents and herself that evening, and to accompany them after dinner to the opera. Surely that meant a great deal, and Jingleberry conceived that the time was ripe for a blushing "yes" to his long-deferred question.
"How do you do, Marian? been admiring myself in the glass," he said, turning to greet her. "I er " Here he stopped, as well he might, for he addressed no one. Miss Chapman was nowhere to be seen. "Dear me!" said Jingleberry, rubbing his eyes in astonishment. "How extraordinary! I surely thought I saw her why, I did see her that is, I saw her reflection in the gla Ha! ha!
What quality it is in man that makes a coward of him in the presence of one he considers his dearest friend is not within the province of this narrative to determine, but Jingleberry had it in its most virulent form.
Don't you think you can rest a little while, and then come?" "Well, I I want to, Marian," said Jingleberry; "but, to tell the truth, I I really am afraid I am going to be ill; I've had such a strange experience this afternoon. "Tell me what it was," suggested Marian, sympathetically; and Jingleberry did tell her what it was.
She certainly seemed glad always when he was about; she called him by his first name, and sometimes quarrelled with him as she quarrelled with no one else, and if that wasn't a sign of love in woman, then Jingleberry had studied the sex all his years and they were thirty-two for nothing.
"She will say yes, and then I shall enjoy the dinner and the opera so much the more. Ahem! I wonder if I am pale I feel sort of um There's a mirror. That will tell." Jingleberry walked to the mirror an oval, gilt-framed mirror, such as was very much the vogue fifty years ago, for which reason alone, no doubt, it was now admitted to the gold-and-white parlor of the house of Chapman.
It almost made him jealous, though, the reflected Jingleberry was so entirely independent of the real Jingleberry. The jealousy soon gave way to consternation, for, to the wondering suitor, the independent reflection was beginning to do that for which he himself had come.
As he looked about the parlor, he for the second time found himself before the mirror, but the reflection therein, though it was of himself, was of himself with his back turned to his real self, as he stood gazing amazedly into the glass; and besides this, although Jingleberry was alone in the real parlor, the reflection of the dainty room showed that there he was not so, for seated in her accustomed graceful attitude in the reflected arm-chair was nothing less than the counterfeit presentment of Marian Chapman herself.
She kept shaking her head, and the more she shook it, the more the glazed Jingleberry seemed to implore her to be his.
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