WE SEARCH FOR MONA.
We were indeed approaching the surface with great rapidity, and Foedric
was obliged to put on power to prevent us from falling too swiftly.
Fortunately he was able to keep our ship under perfect management, and
so, without accident or even a shock, he brought us gently to land,
not far from the spot where Thorwald had seen the signs of life. It was
something new for the latter to show so much curiosity, but he could not
be more eager than I was to attempt to find out what we had seen through
the telescope. So, leaving the rest of the party, we two started out to
investigate. It was kind of Thorwald to take me along, because he could
ordinarily walk a great deal faster without me, but my love and hope now
added wings to my feet and I surprised him with my agility.
Thorwald’s skill in determining locality enabled him to choose the right
direction, and after quite a walk we ascended a considerable hill, from
which we were delighted to discover in the distance a small column of
smoke--a remarkable sight on that sterile shore. We hastened toward it,
Thorwald with high expectations of an important discovery, and I with a
heart beating with joyful anticipations of a different character.
As we approached the spot of such intense interest for us both, I
watched my companion closely to see how he would bear the disappointment
which I felt sure awaited him; and this, I think, made it a
little easier for me to endure my own grief, for, of course, I was
disappointed, too. I ought to have known better than to expect to find
Mona out on the bleak surface, when she had such a comfortable home
inside the moon. What we found at the end of our journey was merely
another party of Martians, who had stolen a march on us and made a prior
invasion of the moon. But so unselfish were they that when they saw our
ship afar off they began to make a smudge and smoke in order to attract
our attention and give us the opportunity of sharing with them the glory
of their anticipated discoveries. They were pleased with our success in
finding them, and proposed that we join our forces in a common camp. So,
leaving me, Thorwald returned for the rest of our party, and in due time
we were all together, conversing on the footing of old acquaintances.
The moon had improved somewhat since we knew it, as everything must
which remains in the vicinity of the planet Mars, but it was not yet,
as far as the outside, at least, was concerned, a desirable place for a
long sojourn.
Our new friends had, unlike us, started from home with the intention of
making the attempt to land on the moon, and, having come prepared with
tools for a little scientific work, had already begun investigating,
with a view to finding out whether the moon contained any vestiges of
life. They had heard of the doctor and me and the outlines of our story,
but now we had to relate to them in detail all our experience on the
moon, while I concluded my part of the narration with the statement of
my firm conviction that Mona was still in her quiet refuge, waiting for
us to return and rescue her. This interested them exceedingly, and they
were eager to join us in searching for her.
The members of our party, catching something of my hope, were ready
to enter at once upon this task, and it was decided to divide all our
forces into two companies, one to be led by the doctor and the other
by me, and then to start in different directions to try to find the
entrance to that long passage into the interior. As we knew not on what
part of the moon’s surface we had alighted, we were undertaking a
bold piece of work, but its apparent difficulty had no terrors for the
Martians, and I should not have hesitated if the circumference of the
moon had been a hundred times what it was. As for the doctor, he had too
much spirit to suggest any obstacles.
We arranged a code of signals, and agreed that if either party were
successful the other should be notified and the descent made only when
all had come together. After dividing the provisions we made our adieus
and separated, not knowing when we should see one another again.
But, fortunately, our elaborate preparations were not of much use, for
before we had been out an hour the doctor signaled to me that he
had found some familiar landmarks. This meant that he was sure of
discovering what we were in search of, and accordingly we started at
once to rendezvous with his company. On our arrival I recognized, with
exultant joy, the features of the landscape which had attracted the
doctor’s attention. We now led the way with complete assurance, and came
at length to the crater down whose side Mona had so strangely led us.
The wind was not so strong now, but I was none the less eager to descend
and enter that dark way, at the other end of which such happiness
awaited me. By this time, also, the whole party were becoming enthused
over the situation. When they came to see, one after another, features
which they had heard us describe, they acquired a personal interest
which had been impossible before, and everyone began to share my faith
in regard to Mona.
As we entered the tunnel, the doctor and myself still in the lead, I
called Avis and asked her to keep as near me as possible.
“I am flattered,” she said, “but what do you want to have me do?”
“Sing,” I answered.
“What for? You needn’t be afraid of the dark, for we can give you light
enough.”
And at that instant out flashed half a dozen lamps from different
members of the party, a timely illustration of the use of their portable
electricity.
“No, Avis,” I said, “I am not afraid, but I would like to recall
something of the sensation of our first descent into the moon, when we
were led, as you know, by the sound of beautiful music. And then, as
we near the end, Mona may hear you, and that would be a more gentle
introduction than if we should burst upon her unannounced. I know she
is not subject to fear or the usual emotions to which I have been
accustomed on the earth, but still I think she would like to have us
come back to her heralded by your noble song.”
Seeing how serious I was in the matter, Avis promised to do as I wished,
only suggesting that all the rest should join her from time to time. So,
without any unpleasant incident, we traversed the long passage, walking
rapidly by the aid of the light and conversing about our interesting
situation. It was a rare and pleasing experience for the doctor and
me to be showing these wise Martians something new, and we enjoyed the
novel sensation of watching their excitement. The fact that we could so
satisfactorily entertain our friends after their own fashion with us was
something long to be remembered.
But not another one of all the company had the intensity of feeling
which filled my breast. Knowing that every downward step was leading me
rapidly toward a determination of my fate, I could scarcely control my
emotions. Either I was soon to find my heart’s life and be raised to the
highest pinnacle of happiness, or I was to undergo a disappointment from
which I might not recover. For if Mona was not here, where could I look
for her? Could I ever regain my hopeful spirits if I should lose her
now? I tried to crowd out these dark forebodings by thinking of my love
and trying to picture the scene in the midst of which we should discover
her.
At length we were drawing near the end. The path was growing wider,
which proved to the doctor and me that we should soon emerge into the
open village. Indeed, a faint gleam of light was beginning to be seen
far in the front. We now pushed on more rapidly, and as we approached
the exit Avis was singing at her highest pitch. She stopped suddenly,
and then a low and distant strain came to us, sweet even to the ears of
our cultured friends from Mars. My heart beat wildly as Thorwald, who
was close behind us, exclaimed:
“Hark, hear the echo!”
“Ho!” I cried, “that’s not an echo. That’s the original, and Avis is the
echo. Sing out again, Avis.”
A loud, clear note trembled on the air, and brought back to our
straining sense, not a repetition of itself but a snatch of varied
melody which showed it to be no echo, although evidently an answer.
There have been few moments in my life more crowded with happiness than
that one. And it was not a passive feeling of enjoyment, but one that
spurred me to action. The swift pace which we had all by this time
reached was now too slow for me. Seized again by the same fierce passion
which took possession of me at my first acquaintance with Mona’s voice,
I started in her direction on a run, flinging aside everything that
might impede me, so overmastered was I by my desire to see her.
But my unreasonable haste brought me a grievous reward. I leaped over
the ground with great rapidity for a few minutes, and then, stepping on
a treacherous stone, turned my ankle and fell heavily to the ground, my
head, thrust forward in running, being the first point of contact with
the cruel rocks.
I returned to consciousness by degrees. My faithful ears were, as usual,
the first friends to renew acquaintance with me, and the sound they
brought was so soothing that I wished for nothing more than to remain as
I was, ears only, and listen to it forever. But this was impossible, as
I was slowly recovering my other senses and becoming a thinking being
once more. I now recognized the pleasant sound as the music of a
familiar voice; yes, it was Mona’s voice in conversation. I was sure of
that, but it seemed so natural that I was not startled. I felt that I
must remain perfectly quiet, or the spell would be broken and the
music cease. Then I began to wonder where I was and who were with me. I
recalled the circumstances of our descent into the moon and my fall as
I was running to meet Mona. My mind was active, but I feared that I was
physically weak, for I did not seem to have even a desire to move. I
wanted to see the face of the dear girl, and it is remarkable that I
did not open my eyes at once and call her by name. But I was not in a
natural state. The feeling was not sufficiently strong to move me to
action. I was just conscious enough to be passively happy, content to
lie there quietly and enjoy one thing at a time.
Hitherto I had not tried to distinguish the words, so satisfied was I
with the exquisite tones, but now my attention was compelled by this
yellow expression:
“So I understand you to say he would not give me up as lost?”
It was the pink voice of Zenith that answered:
“No, indeed. He never faltered in his faith that you would be found. You
owe it to him that you can soon leave this worn-out world with us, and
we are indebted to him for giving us such a dear friend.”
“And he admired my singing?” said Mona in a questioning tone.
“Yes, and everything pertaining to you. He never tired of rehearsing
your perfections, and the doctor tells us he loved you from the very
first. He certainly seems most devoted to you. I hope, my dear, that you
love him.”
I was now recovered enough to feel some compunctions about listening
further to this conversation, but that is not saying that I had any
great desire to stop listening. I knew that in Mona’s answer to Zenith’s
implied question lay my fate, and my moral doubts were not strong enough
to make me do anything to keep it back. It has been said on the earth
that people who surreptitiously hear themselves spoken of are never
pleased, but things must be quite different inside the moon, for,
without a shadow of hesitation and in the sweetest air that ever floated
from her lips, came Mona’s answer:
“Love him? Certainly I love him. Why should I not? I loved him when he
was here before, and I should be very ungrateful if I did not care a
great deal more for him when I know what he has done for me, and that he
now lies here suffering for my sake.”
“Oh, Mona,” I said to myself, “if this be suffering, let me never know
happiness.”
Zenith began to speak again, when she was interrupted by the opening
of a door. I heard someone walk towards me, and then the doctor’s voice
broke the silence.
“How is he, Mona? Is there any change?”
“No,” replied my beloved, “he hasn’t stirred nor shown a sign of
consciousness. Cannot something more be done for him?”
I was becoming a little hardened in my guilt by this time, and, although
my strength seemed now to be returning to me, I decided to keep still
yet longer and hear what words of wisdom the doctor would utter on my
case.
“I know of nothing that can be done,” he said. “He received no injury
except the wound on his head, and that, apparently, is not serious.
Time is the great healer in such cases. My chief fear is that when he
recovers consciousness we will find his memory is defective, as it was
after his plunge into your ocean, Zenith. He will doubtless forget how
we ever got into this strange place, and I am almost sure he will not
recognize Mona, for that was the direction in which he failed before.”
“But you forget,” said Zenith, “that Mona herself will be here to sing
for him.”
“I fear not even that will recall his wandering wits this time. You know
he is more badly hurt than before. I dislike to cause you pain, Mona,
but I must be frank and tell you that our friend will probably never
know you again.”
One would naturally expect Mona to have burst into tears at this
hopeless prospect, but instead of that she sang out, as joyously as
ever:
“Never mind me, Doctor. Only restore him to health and happiness, and
it will be of little moment whether he remembers me or not. No one knows
better than you do that I am always happy, that’s why I am singing all
the time.”
Such unselfishness as this was more than I could appreciate, and rather
more, I thought, than was called for by the circumstances. How could she
love me so, and still not care if I never were to know her again? Was
she the same Mona, after all, who had so provokingly eluded my love
during my former visit? These reflections caused me to decide to come to
life, and claim her as mine before she resigned all her interest in me.
So, opening my eyes and looking in her face, I said, as quietly as
possible:
“I do remember you, dear Mona, and shall never forget you. Doctor, you
see your science has proved false again.”
“And glad indeed I am that it has,” he rejoined, “since it is so greatly
to our advantage.”
Then they all gathered around me, and called the others to a general
rejoicing over my sudden recovery. My physical injury was but slight,
and it was not long before my stupor was entirely gone and I was moving
about again. Aside from the finding of Mona, many other things in this
place of her abode interested the different members of our party. All
were jubilant over the new opportunities for study and investigation,
and they promised themselves the pleasure of many more visits to the
place in the future. They had now seen enough for once, and all wanted
to join in the agreeable task of escorting Mona to Mars and introducing
her there. So, without more delay, we ascended to the surface once more,
found our air ships in good order, and soon sailed away, leaving the
moon without an inhabitant.
Our friends from the antipodes landed with us, and remained some days
before reembarking for home.
During our voyage down there was a general agreement to give me plenty
of opportunity to remain in Mona’s immediate company, though no one
seemed to think we need feel at all embarrassed when our conversation
was overheard by others.
“Mona,” I said, “were you glad to see our relief party when they
arrived?”
“I was indeed,” she replied, “and yet I was as happy as a bird, living
there all by myself and singing for my own amusement the whole day
long.”
“It is an astonishing thing to me,” I continued, “that after the doctor
and I had left you so unceremoniously you could go back to your lonely
home and be happy there.”
“Why, did you think I would mourn for you?”
“Well, yes, I think that would be natural, considering something I
know.”
“Oh, I should like to hear what you know.”
“If I tell you, I shall have to make a confession.”
“What is a confession, and how can you make one? Have you anything to
make it of?”
“Oh, yes,” I replied, laughing. “A confession is an acknowledgment that
one has done something wrong, and should be made to the person to whom
the wrong has been done.”
“Well,” said Mona, “if that is it, I am sure I shall never have to make
one, for I have never done anything wrong.”
This agreed so well with my conception of her that I did not then take
in the full meaning of her words, but said in reply:
“But I have, and this is one thing when you were talking to Zenith about
me and thought I was unconscious I was recovering, and lay quite still
so as to hear what you said.”
“And did I say anything to displease you?”
“No, indeed; you said you loved me, and it made me very happy.”
“Oh, I remember now. Zenith said she hoped I loved you, and I told her
I did. I have always loved you, of course, but I don’t see how that can
make you happy.”
“That’s singular,” I answered. “I should think you would understand my
feeling from your own. But never mind. You and I will be lovers from
this time forth, and give the people of Mars an example of devotion
worth considering, will we not?”
“You do make the funniest speeches,” she replied. “I don’t know half the
time what you mean. But I am getting tired of sitting so long. Here is
Antonia. You talk to her about love, and I’ll go over and see Foedric.”
The lightness of her manner, when I was so deeply in earnest, gave me a
feeling of uneasiness, which was increased when I saw her easy, familiar
way with Foedric and heard her merry song as she chatted with him. I was
not very pleasant company for Antonia, for I could not prevent a return
of that dreadful jealousy. I wondered if this was always to be the
history of my wooing--an hour of the supremest happiness, followed so
speedily by a period of such anguish. I could not possibly talk on any
other subject, and so I said to Antonia:
“They seem well pleased with each other’s society. Are you not afraid
Foedric will lose his heart to her?”
“My friend,” she replied, “we never even think of such things as that. I
hope you are not serious in asking the question.”
“Forgive me, Antonia,” I answered; “I hardly know what I am saying.”
And then I rose and followed Mona, and said to her when I came near:
“Well, my dear, what do you and Foedric find so pleasant to talk about?”
“Why, you see,” she replied, “Foedric was the first one to find me after
you were hurt, and has been very kind to me since, and I have just been
telling him I love him. You said it made you happy to hear me say it
to you, and I wanted to make him happy too. And then I wanted to see if
Foedric would make such funny speeches as you did.”
I controlled myself enough to ask:
“And what did Foedric say?”
“Why, his answer made me laugh more than yours did. He said it would
make you unhappy to know I had said such a thing to him. I replied that
I would tell you myself, and that you were always happy when I said
anything to you; and then you came up just in time.”
“Now, Mona, do you think it is right to make sport of such a serious
matter?”
“I assure you I am in earnest in all I have said.”
“Then are you trying to deceive Foedric?”
“Deceive him? What is that?”
“Telling him what isn’t true.”
“No, indeed. I would never do that.”
“It is true, then, that you love him?”
“Certainly it is; isn’t it, Foedric?”
I did not wait for Foedric to answer, but continued:
“And still a short time ago you said you loved me.”
“Well, is that any wonder, after what you have done for me?”
“But do you love us both at once?”
“I do.”
“And do you love Foedric as much as you do me?”
“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I? And now let me ask you a question. Do you
love me?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then why do you bother me so, asking all these questions, and saying
things I don’t understand? You appear to be surprised to find that I
love Foedric. Why, I love everybody. What am I going to do, if I cannot
love people as much as I want to?”
“You shall, Mona,” I replied, with a sudden softening of my heart toward
her. “I was only going to suggest that, if you love Foedric, Antonia may
not like you so well.”
Foedric began to protest that Antonia would not care, but Mona went
right on with:
“Another complication. What possible difference could it make to
Antonia?”
“Why, Antonia and Foedric love each other, you know.”
“Oh, they love each other, and therefore no one else can love either of
them. Is that it? But you have just been talking with Antonia. Don’t you
love her?”
“Oh, no,” I replied hastily. “Or, at any rate, not in the same way that
I love you.”
“Not in the same way. That’s another remark that I can’t see any sense
in. I must say for myself that I have but one way in which to love, and
that is with my whole heart, without reserve or qualification. I cannot
parcel out my love, a little to one, a little more to another, and so
on. It all goes out to everyone. I couldn’t be happy if I should try to
restrain it. I think it must be like this delicious sunlight, which I am
just beginning to enjoy, an equal comfort to all who choose to partake
of it. I love you dearly. What can I do more? If I love others, I am
not robbing you--take all you want, and then there will be just as much
left.”
“Mona,” I asked, as she finished, “where did you get such a heart? You
are showing me how utterly selfish I have been.”
“Good-by,” she exclaimed; “I am going back to Antonia. May I love her?”
“You may love everybody,” I answered, as she left me with an exquisite
note on her lips.
Foedric and I fell into conversation about her. Foedric praised her to
the skies, saying that, if this were a fair specimen, the inhabitants of
the moon must have been a remarkable people, and that it was unfortunate
that they had so nearly passed from the stage.
When I found opportunity to think over the situation I concluded that
I had given my heart to a peculiar being, and what had I received in
return? She loved me--that was certain. But what kind of love was this,
which had no respect to persons? I knew I could claim no exclusive right
to the least corner of her heart, and yet she said: “All my heart is
yours. What more can you ask?” I was not able to solve the riddle of
her mysterious nature, but as I heard her tuneful voice and watched her
beautiful face as she talked with Antonia, the very picture of innocent
happiness, I realized with great intensity that I loved her more than
ever. And I resolved to be patient, and try to lead her gradually into
the way of loving which prevailed on the earth at the time we left it.
In due time we landed on the ruddy planet, and there was great diversion
for us all in seeing Mona’s continued astonishment and in hearing her
varied song.
It seemed almost like home to enter Thorwald’s house again, where we
found everything just as we had left it. The children did not exhibit
any astonishment at our long absence, but were glad to see us back and
eager to hear about our adventures.
The next morning after our arrival Thorwald gave us a long ride in an
electric carriage to show Mona the country. Returning, we took her about
the large house and were all delighted to hear her naive remarks. At
length Zenith asked Thorwald if he could not think of something that
would interest us all.