The TIME MIRROR
By CLARK SOUTH
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Pale moonlight spilled through the window and over the wedding giftsthat crowded the little room.
"And this mirror, darling?" Mark Carter asked. "Who sent it?"
A sudden flicker of worry flashed across Elaine Duchard's lovely face.She bit her lower lip nervously. Pretended to inspect a great silverpunchbowl that stood on a nearby table.
"Who did you say sent the mirror?" her sweetheart repeated.
Still another moment of taut hesitation. At last:
"It's from Adrian Vance, Mark."
"Adrian Vance!"
Mark spat the name as if it were an epithet.
"Sshhh! Not so loud!" A pause. "He's an old friend, dear. I can't forbidhim to send us a present. After all he's just trying to be polite."
The man's brown eyes were smouldering. "Those were fine company mannershe showed off the night you told him you were going to marry me insteadof him!"
Then, savagely:
"I should have knocked out a mouthful of that damned antique dealer'steeth right then! Of all the gall—threatening you; saying you'd regretturning him down—"
Again the girl silenced him.
"Adrian always expected to marry me," she reminded. "My refusal brokehim up terribly. He was disappointed. Angry. So he said a lot of thingshe didn't really mean. Now he's trying to make up for it."
"I still don't like that damned Vance! He's just the kind of snake who'dfigure out a way to get revenge. Something hideous—"
Elaine laid her hand gently across her fiance's mouth.
"You're acting jealous, Mark, and there's no need to," she said softly."You won. Remember? I'm marrying you tomorrow!"
Mark's hands stole around her slim, supple waist and drew her to him.Her thinly-clad body was warm and fragrant in his arms.
"I guess I keep forgetting," he said huskily. "Part of me still can'tquite seem to believe it's true. That we're going to be togetheralways."
The girl's ripe lips curved in a little smile. Slender fingers caressedher sweetheart's tanned cheek.
"You can believe it now, Mark," she whispered. "I'm yours. All yours.Forever."
And then, ever so gently, she drew his head down. Their lips met. Clungwith young love's ardor.
At last Mark straightened. He drew a deep breath.
"You'd better go to bed now, dear," he advised. "Tomorrow's going to bea hard day."
Another pause. Then a wry smile crossed his lips.
"Besides, your father might not understand why you're wandering aroundthe house with me in the middle of the night, even though we are goingto be married tomorrow. That outfit you're wearing is subject to a lotof misinterpretation."
Elaine matched his smile with one of her own. She smoothed thediaphanous, curve-revealing negligee that displayed her charms to suchadvantage.
"Oh, he'd understand, all right," she retorted. "Only I'm afraid he'dunderstand a lot of things that aren't true." She gave vent to adolorous sigh that the merriment sparkling in her blue eyes denied."Father's all French, you know. He's quick to understand situationswhere young ladies appear en deshabille."
They turned to go. But again the Vance mirror caught Mark's eye.
"Strange-looking affair, isn't it?" he commented.<