I must attend this demonstration at any cost, but I would explain to my host that it was most urgently necessary to return to the observatory within two hours. I was now ready for the strange journey, and, approaching my visitor, I said:

"And now, Reon, I will accompany you, but there is no time to be lost, as an experiment I am conducting with one of these instruments demands my attention in two hours."

I held back the portieres as Reon passed out, and following him down a short passage, we stepped out upon a wide balcony constructed of white marble.

A wonderful sight met my astonished gaze. It was a summer evening, and the dome of the heavens seemed ablaze with the light of myriads of diamonds, so countless were the stars to be seen and so brilliant did they appear in this rarefied atmosphere. Below me stretched out what appeared to be a magnificent park, with white marble buildings scattered here and there, while floating easily in the air were hundreds of small canoe-like airships, containing the inhabitants of this fairyland, reclining on cushions and enjoying sailing through the cool night air. As the question of buoyancy of these remarkable airships arose in my mind, I immediately became aware that they were sustained, in the air by a metal which was used in their construction that was repellent to the surface of Mars. It had been discovered by the Martians that their planet, like a magnet, had both the power of attracting and repelling. The north and south poles were found to be the repelling poles of this immense magnetic sphere. Nothing could exist on these poles that was not a fixture to the planet's surface, consequently no snow or ice existed at the poles themselves. Many explorers' lives had been lost before this discovery was made; those who succeeded in reaching the pole having made the discovery too late to save themselves from being hurled off the planet into space. But so small was the surface of this repelling pole that it was argued that the pole must run through the center of the planet, to make it equal in mass to the attracting force which covered the rest of the surface.

Working on this theory, although it was impossible to reach the pole itself without danger of being hurled off the planet, excavations were made as near it as possible, and a tunnel was run under the surface until the desired point was reached. A change from rock to ore was encountered, with evidences of its having been subjected to intense heat, and upon penetrating farther, pure metal was discovered. This strange metal, unlike any other metal known to the Martians, was found to possess a powerful repelling force. And when it was brought to the surface, it was discovered that it not only retained its repelling force, as a lodestone retains its attracting power, but that this same force was greatly increased, doubtless owing to the close proximity of an unfriendly element in the surface of the planet away from the pole. The repelling force of this metal was found to be ten times as great as the specific gravity of a piece of iron of relative proportions, and by its use in the construction of airships, the problem of aerial navigation on Mars had been solved.

Almos' knowledge of such matters made me instantly aware of all this the moment the question of buoyancy presented itself in my mind, but, although I could not help marveling at the ingenuity of this wonderful people, I outwardly preserved the calm demeanor which Almos' strong personality had made a characteristic. Indeed, Reon, who had been preparing an aerenoid for our use—such was the Martian name for these airships—was quite unaware of my astonishment, and it was plain that with the exercise of due care, when I spoke without the prompting of Almos' knowledge, there was no likelihood of anyone's having a suspicion of my true personality.

The aerenoid in which we were going to make our journey differed in appearance considerably from those which I saw floating about us. Cigar-shaped, with windows in its sides and roof like a steamer's portholes, it more nearly resembled a submarine boat than an airship, as it rested on a platform built in the side of the balcony for the purpose. Yet such was the repelling force of this wonderful metal which the Martians had discovered, and which I found was attached in two or more strips to the bottom of the aerenoids, that the matter of weight in their construction was of little importance. While resting on the ground these strips were encased in a material that was a non-conductor, thus neutralizing the repelling force. In order to raise the car the casing was merely drawn back by means of a controlling lever, until enough of the metal was exposed to the surface of Mars to cause the repelling force to lift the aerenoid, and by preserving this exposure, any desired height could thus be attained.

The entire design of this aerenoid indicated that it was built to attain great speed, and yet as I stepped into it through a door that closed flush with the rounded sides, I was astonished at seeing no traces of machinery. Instantly I became aware of the extraordinary means of propulsion, however, and so simple, yet so effective, was it, that I could not restrain a cry of admiration at this new evidence of scientific progress.

Atmospheric pressure, instead of retarding speed, was employed to produce it. Under the floor of the car and occupying the entire rear half, was a chamber of steel, five or six feet broad at one end, and tapering down with the sides of the aerenoid until it reached the stern, where it ended in an opening one inch in diameter. By a chemical process the air in the chamber was exhausted, instantly causing a vacuum. Immediately the air outside the car rushed in through the small opening at the rear end, with such great force as to cause a concussion against the forward and broad end of the chamber, thus driving the aerenoid ahead. So quick was this action that, when going at great speed, more than one hundred exhaustions would occur in a minute. Simple though this means of propulsion was, gravity having been overcome and the long pointed body of the aerenoid offering little resistance, the speed thus attained was remarkable.

Taking his position at the forward end, where a window in the top of the car afforded a view ahead, Reon now moved a lever at his side and we rose until clear of the observatory building. We then commenced to glide along without either vibration or sound. Slowly we made our way through the many small aerenoids that floated about us, and a soft light, coming from a canopy containing the substance used to illuminate the observatory, clearly revealed the occupants to me, as we passed close by them. I now noticed that the women were wonderfully beautiful—beauty that was possible only where sickness had been unknown for hundreds of years.

Leaving this happy gathering, we passed over what appeared to be a river about a mile broad, whose banks rose perpendicularly a hundred feet or more from the water. These were illuminated with lights, placed every hundred yards or so, giving it the appearance of a broad city street stretching as far as the eye could see. At once it occurred to me that this was one of the wonderful canals, visible even from Earth, and as we passed over it I observed another canal, equal in proportions, running parallel. Although both were on level ground, their waters were flowing rapidly in different directions. What new wonder was this!

Into this second canal our aerenoid now turned, sinking slowly until within thirty feet from the surface. Gradually our speed increased until the lights along the banks formed one long unbroken line. One hundred miles a minute we sped along, and yet without the least vibration or sound. At such a speed it was possible to encircle Mars in seventy minutes, almost, I thought, as rapidly as could Puck in "Midsummer Night's Dream," who boasted of putting a girdle round the Earth in forty minutes.

On we flew down the walled-in track, passing numerous other canals equally as broad, flowing into it, until within ten minutes a faint gray light appeared. It was daylight, and in a few moments sunlight crowned the banks on either side of us. Even as I looked the sun itself appeared, and in the space of fifty seconds it was high in the heavens. In fifteen minutes we had covered almost a quarter of the globe, and now it was the middle of the afternoon.

The importance of having speedways in which to confine aerenoids, travelling at the terrific velocity of one hundred miles a minute, was obvious, and what could be better adapted to the purpose than these magnificent waterways, which completely cover the surface of the planet with such geometrical exactness, that they have always been a source of great wonder to astronomers on Earth. Thousands and thousands of years old, the method of constructing this gigantic system of canals remains enshrouded in the same mystery to the Martians, as that which surrounds the building of the pyramids in Egypt.

I was now made aware of another valuable use to which the canals were put, in fact a most important adjunct to the operation of an aerenoid. The checking of such terrific speed would be impossible, were it not for the water in these canals. We had covered several hundred miles without propulsion, and our speed had not decreased perceptibly, when, moving a lever at his side, Reon turned the aerenoid slightly downward. In an instant we were plunging along the surface of the water, sending high into the air great clouds of spray, which formed snow-white banks on either side of the wake, and made a most remarkable picture. I now realized why this high-speed aerenoid resembled a submarine boat in appearance.

Gradually our speed was reduced until, moving at not more than a mile a minute, we gently left the surface of the water and proceeded down several branch canals. At last we slowly rose above the top of the canal banks. Higher and higher we ascended until we were about a thousand feet in the air, and then proceeded at a greatly reduced speed.

A veritable fairyland lay beneath us. Stretching as far as the eye could reach lay a landscape of pink and green, dotted with white marble buildings of magnificent architecture. Narrow paths, shaded by trees, could be seen winding in and out over rustic bridges and beside sparkling brooks. But nowhere did there appear either cities or towns—not even a road was there to indicate a volume of traffic in any particular direction.

No small aerenoids were to be seen floating about, and as the air in our car was now very close, I realized that in consequence of the light atmosphere of Mars, the sun's direct rays gave great heat. It was evidently the custom for Martians to remain as much as possible under cover in the daytime.

Opening the door of the aerenoid to obtain a fresh supply of air, I was at once struck with the remarkable appearance of the sky, which was intensely blue in color, but of such a dark shade as to appear almost black. It presented all the appearance of night, so many stars were visible and so brightly did they shine, while the sun blazed forth with such brilliancy from the surrounding blackness, that it was impossible to look westward without shading the eyes. I now appreciated the enormous advantage of having an atmosphere as dense as Earth's, which diffused the light to a much more comfortable extent. But the appearance of the Martian sky was magnificent, and I stood lost in admiration until, with a hardly perceptible shock, I discovered that we had come to rest upon a ledge which projected from the circular balcony of a most palatial building.

Jumping out, I moored the aerenoid by means of ropes that were attached to the balcony for that purpose. I was aware that this was my duty upon landing, and when I had made everything secure, Reon left his place at the levers and joined me.

There were numerous other aerenoids moored to the balcony, some of the high-speed class similar to ours, and a few of the lighter class resembling rowboats. The balcony was entirely deserted, however, and it was evident that all were inside listening to the recital of the lumaharp.

As we proceeded across the broad balcony, I was astonished to discover that the outside walls of this building were entirely covered with beautifully carved reliefs, representing the inventions of Sarraccus. Had it been daylight at the observatory, I would have noticed that it, too, was decorated with the wonders of other worlds discovered by Almos. The mountains on Earth, the seas, clouds, volcanoes, and ships; these and many other objects that do not exist on Mars, were carved with remarkable faithfulness upon the walls of the observatory, and were looked upon by Martians as the wonders of a strange world.

As at the observatory, the doorway was hung with heavy portieres, and, passing through these, we found ourselves in what appeared to be an immense palm garden, in which Martians were to be seen sitting in groups, or walking about admiring the plants and flowers. Sunlight streamed in through the roof, the covering of which had been rolled back, and I became aware that it was in such places as this that the Martians were to be found during the heat of the day.

Rain being unknown, it was necessary to grow the more delicate plants where they might be watered regularly and sheltered from the heat of the midday sun, and also from the hot winds that often came at this season. I now realized that the trees that I had noticed were to be found only upon the banks of streams and lakes, and that, with the exception of the green these afforded, Mars was entirely covered with a small and hardy pink flower of the antennaria family, which flourishes in a dry and sandy soil.

Reon now left me, promising to return within an hour, in order that I might reach the observatory in due time. As I walked slowly among the tall palms, taking a path here and there at random and admiring the beautiful beds of flowers, some of which I recognized as flowers also indigenous to Earth, I noticed that all whom I met greeted me in the most cordial way, some pausing to say a few words. I saw the importance of saying whatever was prompted by the first appearance of the individual, and I found that I could thus join in a most enjoyable conversation with these charming people, with a knowledge of their names and the matters of interest to them. All were very enthusiastic about the lumaharp, and I anxiously awaited another number upon this wonderful instrument.

As the paths I turned down were all strange to me, I judged that Almos was not familiar with the interior of this particular building, but as there were many gardens nearer the observatory, he would have no reason to visit this one, except on an occasion of this kind.

Not realizing the enormous size of the building, I had wandered far from the entrance at which I was to meet Reon, and had decided to ask to be directed back, when suddenly I stopped, rooted to the ground, every nerve straining to catch a faint melodious sound that seemed to fill the air. No music on Earth could equal it! Before me arose a vision of beautiful flowers—flowers that had thoughts as beautiful as themselves, and that through the genius of a man poured forth their souls in a volume of melody, so beautiful as to beggar description.

As Almos was perfectly familiar with this remarkable invention, a gradual comprehension of the wonderful genius of Sarraccus, its inventor, came to me. Tall, calm, and of dignified bearing; a man of great learning, but of few words; Sarraccus had won the love and admiration of all by his discovery of the regenerating rays that had given the people of Mars perpetual life and health. He it was who had discovered super-radium, and this wonderful power had, in time, been used by others until many important inventions had developed from it, such as the virator, the radioscope, the radiphone, illumination without expenditure of power or material, and several minor inventions, all of which, however, contributed greatly to the comfort and advancement of this great people.

The aerenoid, one of his most important inventions, had made it possible to reach any part of the globe within an hour, and this, coming at the time of the great change in the social conditions on Mars, had expedited the movement to a wonderful extent by bringing the inhabitants of every quarter of the globe into daily contact with one another. So easy and rapid was this means of transit through the air, that cities and towns were soon abolished, and in the process of time, Mars attained the ideal, and became a World Beautiful—the magnificent estate of one large family.

And now Sarraccus had given the flowers a voice to sing of their beauty. In the mind of this great genius was conceived the idea that inasmuch as there is ineffable beauty to the eye in the soft colors and shades of a flower—beauty too rare for the hand of man to reproduce—there must also be a corresponding sweetness of sound or vibration, if it were possible to transform its beauty into sound. Light-waves, he reasoned, varying according to the color and shade of the object, might be changed into sound-waves, if an instrument were made sensitive enough to vibrate in response to these extremely delicate undulations of light. The vibrations would then vary in accordance with the light-waves, and a harmony of sound, corresponding in sweetness to the beauty of the flower, would result.

After many unsuccessful trials, Sarraccus found a material that, in the form of a fine wire, twenty or thirty feet in length, vibrated in response to light of a certain color, as a wire in a piano or harp will often be attuned sympathetically to a certain note in the human voice, and will vibrate whenever that note is reached. The vibrations of this wire in response to light, however, were almost imperceptible, and it was only upon testing with a highly sensitive instrument that they were discovered. Several wires were then made of different thickness, and each was found to have a sympathetic vibration to a light of a certain color. The quantity of wires was then increased to represent every possible shade of color, and when these were stretched between two large drums, a faint sound was detected. The drums were then enclosed in chambers that led into large horns, and thus the sounds caused by the delicate vibrations of the wires, though as soft as the sighing of the wind, were diffused and augmented so as to reach into every corner of the large building. Enclosed in a dark room, the wires occupied the position of a plate in a camera, a large lens being adjusted in the wall opposite them.

The image of a flower, illuminated by the sun's light, was now thrown upon the wires, and a marvelous melody of sound resulted. Each delicate shade of color in the flower found a sympathetic wire which vibrated in response to it, and the harmony produced by all in chorus was the ineffably sweet song of Nature. As Nature expressed its dreams of beauty in flowers, which in their simplicity and radiance defy the hand of man to equal, so did the melody of these flowers far surpass anything that the ear of man had ever before heard. Did not the lilies of the field receive the tribute of Christ? What wonderfully effective yet simple truth would not He have heard in this surpassing melody? As different flowers were placed before the instrument, so would the music change; often sad and appealing as a whispered prayer, it would change again to a joyous triumphal chorus, full of the gladness of life and beauty.

For a moment I stood spellbound, then by some irresistible, mystic power I was drawn to it; and eagerly seeking the paths that led in the direction of the sound, I became aware that as I gradually understood and sympathized with this compelling cry of Nature, so the melody seemed to become my every hope. Ambition, love, aspiration, and passion surged through that grand symphony. It was heard and understood by the soul, as other music ministers to the ear, and as I eagerly listened I was sensible of a yearning for a love—a love that was soon forgotten, and I knew it to be mine. In the wonders of this new world I had forgotten the love that, while on Earth, I had been ready to risk my life for, and now it was the eleventh hour, and who could say whether I should ever return to this paradise?

Seeing a little rustic arbor, and being overcome with the excess of emotion and beauty, I turned my steps thither to rest and think. Situated in a shaded corner of the building, the interior of the arbor was almost in darkness, and I felt that here I would be alone and unobserved. Every instant I grew more sad at heart over the time which I now felt had been wasted, and as the melody died away, my head sank on my arms, as I rested them upon the table before me. My Earth-tuned soul seemed still to linger under the spell of the enchanted music.

I had remained thus but a few moments when I became conscious of a hand softly laid upon my shoulder, and a voice, as sweet and gentle as the melody that had just died away, murmured, "Almos, poor Almos!"

The touch had a healing in it and was as gentle as the fall of snow. Raising my head I started up, giving utterance to the name that instinctively came to my lips—"Zarlah!" It was as if another man had spoken the name while I stood entranced with the small soft hand held a prisoner in both mine, gazing down upon the beautiful being whose image I had so often seen pictured in my mind. It was Zarlah!

I knew, now, that this beauteous image had not been an hallucination, and by what miracle it had all happened I cared not. Enough that this beautiful, radiant woman actually existed, and in one quick bound of the heart, I realized my all-consuming, deathless love for her.

What I might have indiscreetly said in the great emotions of those first moments, I know not, but before I could give utterance to further words, Almos' calm demeanor had asserted itself, and in a voice that gave no evidence of how I was torn within, I said:

"How is it, Zarlah, that you find time from your studies to linger here?"

"My studies have brought me here," she answered, gently withdrawing her hand and rising as if to go. Then quickly lifting her shining eyes to mine, in a playfully reproachful tone, she said, "And have you no experiments at the observatory that demand your attention that you can afford to linger here, Almos?"

How beautiful she looked as she stood before me thus! Surely I could not hope for a better time than now to tell her all that was in my heart. There was uncertainty in the future—perhaps I would never again be given the opportunity to speak that with which my soul burned.

Placing a hand lightly on her shoulder and looking down into her wonderful eyes, I said tenderly, "The reason I have lingered here, Zarlah, was to think of you."

A tremor of her slight form was the only response I received for some seconds that seemed hours to me, then, with her eyes turned away so I could not read in them my fate, she murmured, "Did you not come to hear the wonderful instrument by which Sarraccus gives the flowers a voice?"

"I did," I answered passionately, "and its sweet melody whispered only of you—the radiant rose of the spheres. It told me of the yearning in my heart—it sang of your great beauty, and of my unspeakable love for you, and sobbed at the time I have wasted, a fortune of golden moments; then, as it died away, it led me to you. Is not this melody of flowers direct from God's own hand, Zarlah? It must then be decreed by Him that I should love you, for being truth itself, it can appeal only to the truth that is within the soul."

I drew her unresisting form toward me, and, gently pushing back the waves of soft brown hair, I tenderly kissed the beautiful face, radiant with the light of love. A thought of fabled beauties of Earth passed before me. Could any of them compare with my Martian love? Would not the face of Helen—that which "launched a thousand ships" at Troy—have paled into insignificance beside it?

For some moments we remained thus, neither of us caring to break that sacred silence which to lovers means infinitely more than words. The joy of feeling that my love was returned, and that she whom I held in my arms was mine, made me forget all else, until, with a little sob, Zarlah whispered:

"Dearest, in our great happiness, we must not forget the duties that have been confided to us. You must return to the observatory at once. Come, and I will accompany you to where Reon waits."

The truth of Zarlah's words flashed upon me, and with it a full realization of the terrible mistake I had made. In the eyes of Zarlah I was a Martian, her life-long friend, Almos, and her anxiety for me to return to the observatory was the prompting of her Martian sense of duty—her sole creed. In what words could I ever hope to explain that I was not Almos, when the voice, the manners, the features, and even the knowledge of her affairs were those of her intimate friend? And even if it were possible to make Zarlah believe in the remarkable change of personality, by explaining in full the weird and uncanny details of how the change was effected, what happiness could I hope to derive from it; it was Almos she loved, not a strange spirit of whom she could know nothing—a spirit even from an alien world.

Such were the thoughts that filled my mind, as I walked beside Zarlah through this more than Edenic garden toward the entrance where Reon was to wait for me. But, although utterly crushed by the realization of my own hopeless case, I felt that the knowledge of Zarlah's love, of which I had so wrongly come into possession, had imposed upon me a sacred duty. I therefore gave no outward evidence of my emotions, though my cup of happiness was now changed to one of sorrow and bitterness, and when Zarlah proposed that we should meet the following evening, I quickly assented with all a lover's eagerness.

We had now reached the entrance and, as we stepped out on the balcony, I saw Reon waiting for me with the aerenoid in readiness. Seeing a merry party in a large open aerenoid, and knowing them to be Zarlah's friends, I would have escorted her to them, but in a low tone she earnestly besought me to lose no time in reaching the observatory.

A few words of farewell—a slight pressure of hands, and we parted; and as I walked over to where Reon stood, ready for the journey, I could not help marveling at the great sacredness in which all duties are held in the eyes of the Martians; duties, too, that have no other reward than their own fulfillment. A feeling of shame came over me as I thought of the endless struggle, selfishness, and crime of another world that is a slave to Gold.



CHAPTER VIII.

A HUNDRED MILES A MINUTE IN AN AERENOID.

Reon was at his place by the levers when I stepped into the aerenoid, and as I closed and fastened the steel door, we slowly rose, and describing a large circle, sailed toward the canal. As the sun was now low in the heavens, numerous open aerenoids were to be seen, but these were soon passed, and within a few minutes we had reached the branch canal where our speed increased.

My thoughts were now turned to the long journey before me. So deeply absorbed had I been in the rapid events since I left the observatory, that I had given little thought to time. My great happiness at meeting and being with Zarlah had caused me to forget completely the importance of returning to the observatory within two hours, and as the thought now flashed through my mind, I hastily consulted the time. To my great dismay I found I had but twenty minutes in which to cover quarter of Mars. This I knew was possible, but it left such a narrow margin that any delay or accident, en route, would prove disastrous to our plans, thus bringing fatal consequences.

We had now reached the large canal in which we had attained such great speed, and, rising, we proceeded to pass over it. As we crossed the banks there came a rushing sound from beneath us, as of a mighty gust of wind, and, looking through one of the small windows in the side of the car, I saw in the distance a speck, which, in another moment, disappeared. Our aerenoid now gently rocked with the motion of a boat that is in the swell of a passing steamer, and I instantly realized that another aerenoid, travelling at a terrific speed, had passed in the canal beneath us.

We had now reached the canal that ran parallel to the one over which we had just passed. This was in every way similar to the first and was used by aerenoids going in an opposite direction. Into this canal we turned, sinking lower as our speed increased, until, when we had reached our maximum speed, we were travelling not more than thirty feet above the water. Thus, whenever necessary, we were ready for an instant plunge in order to reduce our speed, and thus did this simple rule of starting high and sinking lower as the speed increased make collisions impossible.

As it was late in the afternoon when we started, the daylight soon faded, and in a few minutes we had reached complete darkness, the double line of lights on the canal banks being our only guide. Anxiously did I count the minutes as we sped along, but knowing the danger of distracting Reon's attention, even for a moment, while we were travelling at such a terrific speed, I kept silent, nor did I allow my manner to give any evidence of my anxiety.

I now realized that if I reached the observatory in time, I would owe my life to Zarlah. Twice had she reminded me of my duties at the observatory, and had insisted upon my immediate departure, when, under the influence of her great beauty, I would have lingered until too late. My mind was fully determined as to how to proceed with regard to righting the wrong I felt I had done Almos, in confessing to Zarlah my love for her. I would leave a note for him at the observatory to the effect that I wished to communicate with him the following evening, when I would tell him all.

The hopelessness of my love was plain, for it was Almos whom she loved, and she believed also that Almos had confessed his love to her; and, with a lover's conviction that everyone must love the one he loves, I felt that Almos undoubtedly loved Zarlah. Indeed, it was probably his affection for her through which I had silently won her confession. Almos would then have no cause to regret my action, and Zarlah would never know the strange circumstances that had brought them together. Thus did I picture in my mind a happy conclusion to my selfish and precipitate action, which, I had feared at first, must bring overwhelming sorrow and humiliation into three lives, two of which were dearer to me than any on Earth.

I was roused from these meditations by the sudden roar of rushing waters as, in order to reduce speed, we plunged along the surface of the canal. We were nearing our destination at last, and my mind at once reverted to the now imminent danger—that of arriving at the observatory only to find that the wave contact with Paris had ceased, and I was too late ever to return to the world from which I had come. In such a case, I determined to write a brief account of my experiences to Almos, and, after arranging the current of super-radium so that it would convey my spirit out of the virator (whither I knew not), I would then enter the virator and deliver the body to its rightful owner.

Although I determined upon this course as being clearly my duty, in the event of my being too late to return to Earth, the desperate nature of such a proceeding roused me to action. We had now risen from the canal and were floating slowly in the air at a considerable height. Striving hard to suppress my agitation, I urged Reon to make more speed, and he at once responded by increasing the power. As it was now after midnight in this part of Mars, we were in no danger of encountering small aerenoids in our flight, and in a few moments, to my great relief, I distinguished the observatory lying far beneath us. Describing circles over the building, we slowly descended and in a few seconds we had reached the balcony.

Thanking my companion with a hearty handshake (which came perfectly natural even on Mars), I bade him adieu, and, stepping on to the balcony, made my way into the observatory with all haste. Everything was in the condition I had left it, and I was greatly relieved to find that the necessary time for the process of departure still remained, before wave contact with Paris ceased. My heart now went out in true gratitude and love to her who, in the simple desire to do what was right, had placed duty before her love, and had thus been of such inestimable service to me.

Immediately upon my arrival, I had prepared the virator for my journey back to Earth by substituting the projecting apparatus of the radioscope for the receiving apparatus. It was only necessary now to start the clockwork that would shut off the current to earth in half an hour, and would start the current flowing through the upper chamber of the virator.

After having written a brief note to Almos, saying that I wished to communicate with him the following evening before making another visit, I made a hasty examination of the current of super-radium which now flowed through the virator to Earth from the projecting apparatus. The instant my spirit was released, it would be caught up in this current and conveyed to my body, where it lay in my rooms in Paris. In half an hour the clockwork would shut off the current flowing to Earth, and would then turn on the current which flowed through the upper chamber of the virator, thus transferring Almos' spirit back to the body, as it lay in the lower chamber.

All was in perfect order, but it was not without a feeling of reluctance and anxiety that I stepped into the virator and, after carefully fastening the door, prepared the cone of chloroform. I realized that there were many dangers attending the return journey that were not present in my journey to Mars. If I had erred in my calculation of the time the super-radium current could be kept on my body in Paris, or if my body had moved in that time, it would undoubtedly mean death to me; and the thought of whether Almos, in such a case, would learn of my fate on the morrow flashed through my mind. Realizing the danger of such apprehensions, not only from the loss of valuable time which they occupied, but also from the fact that they tended to unnerve me at the moment when hesitation meant death, I quickly fastened the chloroform cone over my face and inhaled the fumes.

A moment's consciousness—a flickering light—

* * * * *



CHAPTER IX.

THE REALIZATION OF A HOPELESS LOVE.

I opened my eyes—it was broad daylight, and for some moments I lay dreamily surveying the familiar objects in my room, unconscious of all that had happened to me during the previous night. Then, noticing that I was fully dressed, a sudden realization of it all came upon me, and, springing to my feet, I excitedly paced up and down my room, pinching my arms and legs to make sure that they were in normal condition. Satisfying myself upon this point, I then looked at the time, and, to my astonishment, found that it was noon.

As Mars passed out of wave contact about one o'clock in the morning, I must have slept eleven hours after the return of my spirit to Earth. I had greatly feared that even if it were my good fortune ever to regain consciousness, it would be only to discover that I had lost the use of my limbs and was powerless to move. That the super-radium current would preserve my body in such a natural condition as even to induce sleep I would not have believed possible. Yet there was every indication that I had awakened from a natural sleep. I felt fresh and full of vigor, and there on my couch lay the cone which, in my sleep, I had unfastened and, in turning over, crushed. If I had remained unconscious the entire time there would not have been this evidence of restlessness, and I considered it of importance as being proof that my sleep had been natural. Beyond this, however, I did not consider the removal of the cone from my face as important, as the chloroform must have completely evaporated soon after I became unconscious.

Now that I was once again in my laboratory with the humdrum life of a matter-of-fact world surging about me, evincing itself by the continual roar of traffic which reached me through the open window, my remarkable adventure of the night before seemed like a strange dream. As there was no tangible proof that I had actually been on Mars, I might have been led to the conclusion that I had chloroformed myself into unconsciousness only, and had passed from this state into a deep sleep, in which I had dreamed my remarkable experiences. But the clearness and consistency of every detail were amply sufficient to convince me of the genuineness of my experiences on Mars, and that the characters, so vividly portrayed in my mind, lived in flesh and blood on a world millions of miles away. Much more convincing than this, however, was the moral obligation that I felt incumbent upon me—a duty I owed to another. No dream could have left me with this keen sense of responsibility.

Alas, I knew only too well that I loved, with an impossible love, a beautiful being of another planet, and that my duty lay in the renunciation of this love to Almos, its rightful possessor.

Thus my discovery had not brought me the joy of triumph. The proud moments in an inventor's career when he holds up to the world the fruit of his ingenuity and study could not be mine. Indeed, the thought of the excitement that the news of such easy communication with Mars would cause, if I demonstrated its truth before reputable scientists, made me determined to guard the secret of my discovery the more jealously. Hundreds of instruments similar to mine would be made, and it would soon become known to all the inhabitants of Mars that they could talk to the people of Earth, resulting in constant communication from all parts of both planets. Such an innovation would soon be a regular pastime of the rich. It would then be impossible for me to visit Mars again, as the crossing of the currents of super-radium would add a grave danger to such an undertaking.

The possibility of my secret becoming known through an accident (someone breaking into my room or overhearing me talk with Almos) now occurred to me, and, in the fear of my being separated from Zarlah forever, I determined upon another visit to Mars that evening.

I had planned to tell Almos at once of my thoughtless confession of love to Zarlah, but in an effort to justify my great desire to see her again, I now saw several important reasons for postponing this. I had given my promise to Zarlah to be with her the following evening, and it seemed only honorable for me first to fulfil my promise to her. Moreover, under the circumstances, it might be embarrassing for Almos to meet her upon such short notice. When a man takes a step of this kind, he usually has spent some time in consideration beforehand, how much more necessary, then, is time for consideration when this step has been taken for him. I therefore decided to keep my promise to Zarlah and to endeavor to visit Mars again during the next wave contact.

I did not regret having left the note for Almos, however, as I had no means of telling whether the mechanism of the virator had done what was expected of it, or not. Almos' life depended upon the accurate working of this mechanism after I had gone, and I was anxious to learn of his safety. He would also want to learn of my safe arrival before preparing himself for another undertaking of the kind; to see each other was therefore necessary. Almos would undoubtedly have warned me of this, had not the cessation of wave contact prevented him from giving me instructions.

It was late in the afternoon when a feeling of intense hunger reminded me that I had not tasted food for twenty-four hours. I contented myself, however, with a light meal at a neighboring cafe, knowing the danger of eating heavily at this time. To my great surprise, I found that this small amount of food was evidently all my system required. Not only was my hunger appeased, but, while returning to my rooms, I was conscious of a strength and vigor which were entirely new to me, and which I now remembered I had first experienced upon awakening. Could it be that the super-radium current, possessing the wonderful regenerating rays that had brought perpetual life to the people of Mars, was gradually working this change in my body over a distance of millions of miles? Impossible as this seemed there was no other way of accounting for the remarkable change which had taken place in my body.

The intense excitement I experienced at the thought of possessing perpetual life, health, and youth was but momentary, and I reached my laboratory with a full realization of the enormous responsibilities which my discovery was placing upon me. I could no longer keep it secret; each day that I withheld the knowledge of these rays from my fellow beings, hundreds, nay thousands, of lives would be laid to my account. The knowledge had not been given to me that I should guard it selfishly. The hope that, even though I could never call Zarlah my own, I might often spend a few happy hours with her in her Martian paradise was now shattered forever. I must stifle my love or commit a crime against every living soul on Earth; and as I paced my room in agony, with my hands pressed to my temples to ease their throbbing, a great cry of anguish from the multitude in Death's grasp rang through my brain. My heart was torn asunder by two great conflicting emotions, Love and Duty, and in this torture of mind and body I moved restlessly back and forth in my room, until the fading light warned me of the near approach of wave contact with Mars.

There was but one course open to me; I would tell Almos of my experience with the rays, and if he should decide that they were the same as the regenerating rays, possessing all their properties, and that continual life was now within reach of the people on Earth, I would make my discovery public on the morrow. This would be my solemn duty, no matter what sacrifice it involved, and I could not help feeling that this second visit to Mars might be the last.

A hasty examination of my instrument assured me that all was in order, and, turning on the current, I now watched the surface of wires for the glow that would signalize the commencement of wave contact. Should this glow appear without an image of any kind it would have but one meaning—that the mechanism of the virator had failed to do its work the night previous, and that disaster had befallen Almos.

My heart beat fast, therefore, when in a short time a faint glow appeared on the upper portion of my instrument and rapidly spread until it covered the entire surface. As it grew brighter I was obliged to turn away, before I could recognize any image, and, as I stood shielding my eyes from the strong glare, I felt my heart sink within me. But, before I could approach the instrument again, I heard my name called in the clear, ringing tones of Almos' beloved voice.

I reached the instrument with a bound, and there, standing with his hands extended toward me and a smile of greeting on his handsome face, I saw my brave Martian brother.

"My dear Almos, how glad I am to see you are safe!" I cried, tears of joy springing to my eyes at finding that the fears of a moment ago were unfounded.

"It is entirely due to your forethought in leaving the note, that either of us are safe," Almos responded. "Had you not done this, disaster to one or both of us must certainly have resulted, through ignorance of each other's plans. Let me congratulate you, my brave fellow, for having so successfully accomplished your remarkable journey. This is the initial step in the linking together of the destinies of Earth and Mars.

"But now I should like to hear an account of your experiences here, for although I have gradually become aware of many impressions you left, I find it is only of the things suggested by my mind that I can gather anything."

"Then it is evident that the brain is merely a book of reference for the mind," I replied, "as I was not instantly aware of your knowledge of Martian affairs, but only upon a subject being suggested by my mind, was the information regarding it available. Thus, the mind is aware of impressions it has made on the brain, but is totally ignorant of impressions made by another mind, unless the thought is suggested."

I now gave Almos a brief description of my journey, explaining that, as I intended to make another visit to Mars that evening, I would leave the full account of my experiences until the following night. I was careful not to make any reference to Zarlah, as I felt that my second meeting with her would put me in a much better position to approach Almos on this extremely delicate subject and lay before him my plans. Moreover, I was anxious that nothing should interfere with those few happy hours to which I looked forward with such intense desire.

Almos listened to my narrative with wrapt attention, and not until I concluded by describing the remarkable effects of the regenerating rays, did he give utterance to a word. Then, to my amazement, he said:

"The result is what I fully expected. The proof that the regenerating rays exist in the super-radium current, lies in the fact that your body was perfectly preserved for six hours, and there is no reason for supposing that they differ, in any way, from the rays which preserve life here for an unlimited time."

"Then I can no longer keep my discovery a secret," I declared resolutely. "It becomes my solemn duty at once to make public the knowledge of these wonderful rays emanating from Mars."

"What you say is indeed the truth," rejoined Almos. "The time has now arrived; the existence of a people on Mars, our early history, progress, and the conditions under which we live at the present day, must now become known upon Earth; our inventions and scientific advancement must be made available to Earth's scientists. Since the discovery of the radioscope, which enabled us to see the people on your planet, Mars has yearned to give a helping hand to her younger sister. That time has now come, and before many years the conditions of life on Earth will be similar to those here. A great work must be accomplished, however, but the burden of that work rests upon me; when it is finished the goal of my life has been reached. There are many things that are not clear to you now, my dear fellow, but there is no time at present for explanations. In half an hour I shall have prepared for your visit—remember, no matter what happens, tomorrow all shall be explained."

Having thus spoken, his voice and manner evincing great earnestness and determination, he waved his hand in farewell, and instantly the instrument was plunged into darkness.

For some moments I stood motionless under the spell that his remarkable personality had cast over me, nor did even his abrupt manner appear at all strange, such perfect harmony of word and action existed in this Martian genius. Indeed, it seemed a fitting conclusion to all that had gone before. Speaking rapidly, as though realizing the loss of time in mere words, his handsome face, strong with determination, holding me fascinated, he had confessed the ambition nearest and dearest to his heart—that of giving to Earth the discoveries and inventions of hundreds of years of advancement in science; all that had resulted in the longevity, health, peace, and happiness which existed upon Mars.

Humbled at my own insignificance and full of admiration for this great character, I turned slowly away, and, procuring a light, commenced to prepare for my journey.

My letters and other papers, with a brief note of explanation, still remained on my desk, and, as my glance fell upon this bundle, I became conscious of a nervousness, which, although to many would be perfectly natural at such a time, was entirely strange to me. I had not experienced the least nervousness on the occasion of my first visit the night before, yet the mere sight of this package on my desk, with its note of explanation, now caused me an uneasiness, which, try as I would, I could not ignore.

Making the few necessary preparations about my room for the night, I secured the door with lock and bolt, and, drawing my couch before the instrument, poured out a glass of wine and lit a cigar, hoping thus to steady my nerves.

The day had been warm and close, and a thunderstorm of unusual violence made the night a wild one. Vivid flashes of lightning that seemed to vie with each other in intensity, darted from the heavens, accompanied by deafening crashes of thunder that shook the building to its foundations, while the shrieking of the wind, as though it were rushing through the rigging of a ship at sea, added to the noise of the tempest.

Within a few moments the glow on my instrument would be the signal for my departure, and, as I prepared the cone of chloroform, I could not suppress a shudder at the thought of my spirit going out into the fury of such a storm. It seemed as if Death, in the fear of being driven from Earth and forever despoiled of his cruel victories, had turned loose the elements in his fury, and waited without to wreak vengeance on my audacious spirit as it sped through space.

An instant an intensely white glare on the surface of wires at this moment gave evidence of the super-radium current. It was the signal for my departure, and, with a brief but earnest prayer, I seized the cone, and, taking my position on the couch, inhaled the fumes of chloroform.

* * * * *



CHAPTER X.

ZARLAH'S CONFESSION.

It was with a feeling of thankfulness that, upon opening my eyes, I found myself in the virator. The storm, which I had feared might prove disastrous, had been passed through safely, and now reigned the wonderful quiet of Mars. The strange uneasiness, which I had experienced upon my departure from Earth, was forgotten in the anticipation of the great joy before me, or I would have noticed that the usual calm, ever characteristic of Almos, was lacking.

It was already past the hour of my appointment with Zarlah, and, eager to be with her, I hastily made the necessary preparations for my return to Earth. Although these consisted merely of changing the current so that it would flow from the virator to Earth, and adjusting the clockwork for the hour of departure, I had decided upon the importance of doing this beforehand, as any mistake made in the haste of departure would prove fatal to either Almos or myself.

These preparations attended to, I now made my way to the balcony. I had relied upon Almos' knowledge to guide me to Zarlah, and, as I reached the open air, I at once felt his judgment assert itself. Two aerenoids were moored to the balcony, a large high-speed one of the submarine-boat type and a small open one. Into the latter I stepped, and, with a perfect knowledge of its operation, glided out upon the cool night air.

Gently rising to about three hundred feet, I lay suspended between the fairyland stretched beneath me and the brilliantly starred heavens. I was perfectly aware of the direction in which I was to go, but for a few moments I lay thus suspended, enjoying as could only an inhabitant of Earth, the strangeness and marvel of it all.

The little vessel had reached the limit of height to which it was designed to ascend and, upon realizing this, I became aware that, for safety, all aerenoids are limited to a certain height by the amount of repelling metal used in their construction. The high-speed aerenoids, owing to their build, being better adapted to withstand the atmospheric conditions at a great altitude, can ascend several thousand feet, but all are limited to what is considered a safe height for the class to which they belong. The action of the repelling metal being independent of the atmosphere, the danger of an aerenoid getting beyond control, and rising above the envelope of air which surrounds the planet is thus eliminated.

As these thoughts came into my mind, I glanced up into the heavens with its countless stars—one being the world from which I came—when lo! a remarkable phenomenon met my gaze. In the west hung a crescent moon, somewhat smaller than Earth's moon, but extremely brilliant, while out of the east rose another moon at its full. So rapidly did this latter moon rise, that its journey through the heavens was perceptible, and it was evident that within an hour it would sink into the western horizon, having gradually changed its phase to a crescent. In seven hours it would encircle Mars, and again appear above the eastern horizon.

My interest in this moon was intensified when I realized that it was but a few thousand miles distant, and so small, that it would require but a couple of days' comfortable walking to encircle it. Compared with my journey from Earth, this few thousand miles seemed but an insignificant distance, and I immediately thought of the possibility of reaching it in a high-speed aerenoid to which a sufficient amount of the repelling metal was attached to overcome the gravity of Mars. But I instantly was aware of the fact that an attempt to reach this moon had been made many years previously, and that the intrepid Martians who undertook the hazardous journey, never returned. Although their aerenoid carried enough oxygen to supply them for many days after they had left the atmosphere of Mars, it was decided later that they had been lost in space, unable either to reach the moon or return to Mars. The gravity of so small a body would be insufficient to draw them to it, unless they traveled straight in its direction, and, as the moon was moving rapidly around Mars, the chances of this were admittedly small. Moreover, once out of the atmosphere of Mars, it would be impossible to propel the aerenoid, and, having missed the moon, they would travel on and on through endless space. Had they reached the moon they could have returned, as the repelling force on a body with so little gravity, would be greatly increased, and would have hurled them into the gravity of Mars again, as soon as they exposed the repelling metal. There could be no doubt that they had never reached the moon, and their terrible fate resulted in a safe limitation of this dangerous metal upon all aerenoids.

So absorbed had I become in these intensely interesting details supplied by Almos' knowledge, that time had passed without my realizing it, and, reproaching myself for having wasted the valuable moments I might have spent with Zarlah, I now moved the lever at my side and glided gently forward.

The moon, however, as it rapidly journeyed across the heavens, seemed to hold a strange fascination for me, and my gaze constantly reverted to it. Had I realized that this fascination was caused by the approach of a terrible danger, I might have paid heed to the warning, but desirous now to get to my journey's end, which, according to Earth's proverb, should end in a lover's meeting, I thought only of the time I had lost, and impatiently put the subject from my mind.

Moreover, as my meeting with Zarlah drew near, thoughts that were relevant and of a more serious character filled my mind. My present visit to her now began to appear most unjustifiable. If I had found excuse for my action of the previous evening, in the enthusiasm of so suddenly beholding the object of my adoration, unaccustomed as I was to my strange position, I had no such excuse now. To appear before her again as Almos, after having seen my folly and realized the deceit of my position toward her, would be an act of shameful duplicity. I had not realized this before, for I had thought only of my great love for her and the joy of again being with her, but now the crushing force with which the truth presented itself, caused me to hesitate before taking another step that I now felt would be impossible to justify before Almos. In this great uncertainty of mind I glided slowly along.

The wonderful stillness of the night was broken only by the faint hum of voices and merry laughter that reached me from below. Glancing down, I observed numerous open aerenoids floating some two hundred feet beneath me, while now and then those of the high-speed class appeared, slowly wending their way toward the canals, to fly to different parts of the globe. But although I was aware that for convenience of landing it was customary to travel just high enough to escape the buildings, I continued on at my present elevation, as I felt the need of deep and earnest thought, which I realized would be impossible amid the gay throng nearer the surface.

As the highest speed attainable by open aerenoids, which were used mainly for pleasure, was but eight miles an hour, my journey of five miles gave me ample time for meditation; and when I at last alighted on the balcony of a small white marble villa, to which I had instinctively guided my aerenoid, I had fully determined upon what I felt to be the only honorable course to pursue. This was to confide all in Zarlah, and, no matter at what cost, to reveal to her the strange conditions that hid the identity of a being from another world behind that of her friend Almos.

Having secured my aerenoid, I stood on the balcony, entranced at the beauty of the scene before me, which lay bathed in a wonderful starlight—far more brilliant than the light of the full moon upon Earth—shed by a myriad of blazing gems in a sky that knew no clouds. A perfect stillness reigned, save for the rippling laughter of a little stream, that wended its way through an avenue of trees to a lake of glistening silver, a short distance beyond.

"What happiness would be mine in such a paradise, with Zarlah for my own!" I thought, and a great anguish filled my heart, as I realized the impossibility of it—and now for the first time I also realized the impossibility of life without Zarlah. A sudden dread of meeting the one I loved came upon me—a dread of seeing the light of love in her eyes, even for an instant, knowing that it was not for me. I felt I could not bear to behold the look of tenderness in her beautiful face change to one of hatred, upon learning how she had been deceived; and in my agony of spirit, I cried in a voice of deep emotion:

"Ah, Zarlah! I have won you, yet you are not mine! You have loved me, yet I am not loved!"

"I am yours, and I love you, Harold," softly protested a voice at my side.

With a start I turned and beheld Zarlah, and for a moment I stood as if gazing at an apparition.

Realizing my bewilderment, she laid her hand gently upon my arm, and in a low voice, full of compassion, said: "It is Harold Lonsdale whom I love!"

In a delirium of ecstasy I caught the small white hand and pressed it to my lips. Passing my arm about her I drew her tenderly toward me, gazing down into her beautiful eyes where lay a world of tenderness and love. My heart was too full for words—it was all too wonderful to understand; enough that I knew Zarlah to be wholly mine, and in those few silent moments of absolute happiness and contentment, the little stream's merry laughter seemed to swell into the great joyous chorus of all creation, behind which is the great love principle.

Together we left the balcony and walked beneath the giant trees toward the lake, Zarlah relating to me how, through an instrument she possessed, which transmitted and received thought-waves, she had not only learned of Almos' communication with Earth, but had descried a mental picture of the inhabitant of that distant world with whom he had spoken.

On the evening of my first communication with Mars, Zarlah was testing this instrument on Almos' mind, when, to her great astonishment, she came into thought communication with Earth. As this was the first trial of the instrument, Almos himself was unaware of the success that had crowned Zarlah's invention, though he had taken much interest in it, and had on several occasions given his advice during its construction. Although this instrument was only capable of transmitting and receiving thought-waves over a few miles, it was evident that through the medium of Almos' mind, which was in communication with mine, the thought-waves were conveyed to Earth by the super-radium current.

Zarlah had thus learned of my proposed visit to Mars, but had not known when the attempt was to be made, until, seeing Almos in evident distress at the recital of the lumaharp, she had feared that the attempt had proved disastrous. When, however, I evinced my astonishment at seeing her, she knew instantly that before her stood the personality of the man from distant Earth, who had been projected to her in mental pictures, and who was called Harold Lonsdale. When I spoke to her of my love, she realized that her image had also been projected to my mind, and, as she listened to my impassioned words, she recognized in them the thoughts of love that had accompanied the projection of my image. Indeed, my every thought of Zarlah, during wave contact, had been projected to her through the medium of this remarkable instrument.

With a keen desire to see and examine the mechanism, by which thoughts could be transferred over millions of miles, I said: "But where is this wonderful instrument of which you speak, Zarlah?"

We had reached the lake, and now stood on the bank overlooking its glistening surface.

A tremor ran through her slight form as she drew closer to me, and said imploringly: "You must not ask to see it! Oh, Harold! Do you not realize the grief this instrument has brought into our lives? Have you partaken of the sweetness so deeply, that you fail to perceive the bitterness that lies beneath? You can be but a beloved memory to me—the memory of a lover millions of miles away—but we are separated by that which is far greater than distance!"

Her voice died away in a sob, and, as I drew her gently toward me, she wept bitterly. Thus had I of Earth brought tears into a world that had not known sorrow for hundreds of years.

"But, dearest," I argued, tenderly smoothing back the soft brown hair, and striving to cheer her, "we are now commencing on an era of planet communication, and it may not be long before a means is discovered of actually transferring people from one planet to another. Did not explorers, some years ago, have this in mind, when they attempted to reach the nearest moon? And even though they failed to reach their goal, who knows that they were not drawn to some planet that was in opposition at that time, and are now prepared for a return journey at the next opposition? With the complete absence of resistance there is in space, their speed would become terrific—thousands of miles a minute—and at such a rate it would be possible to reach a planet in opposition, long before their month's supply of oxygen became exhausted. Heat would not be generated as there would be no friction until the planet's atmosphere was reached, but long before this they would have applied their repelling force, which would reduce their speed, thus enabling them to sail gently through the atmosphere and alight safely on the planet's surface."

Although I had not as much confidence in such an achievement as I sought to inspire (well knowing the vast difference between a spiritual transfer and a material one over such a tremendous distance), I wished, above all, to cheer Zarlah. Indeed, I feared that grief might bring the most serious consequences on Mars. I was greatly relieved, therefore, upon observing her countenance light up with a sudden interest, as I expressed these sanguine predictions as to the future.

It was not until some hours later, when I was alone, that this incident caused me much anxiety, as I remembered that, in spite of the keen interest Zarlah had evinced, she had carefully avoided any allusion to the subject afterwards. But in the subsequent events of the evening this escaped my notice, and, glad to observe the soothing effect my words had upon her, I did not pursue the thought further.

We had descended by a flight of stone steps to the water's edge, and, as we stepped upon the narrow strip of pebbly beach, walled in by cavernous rocks, Zarlah, with great earnestness, exclaimed: "You are right, dear Harold, we must be hopeful, and not waste the few precious moments we have together in regrets that are useless. We shall always love each other, and if we are brave—even unto death—Love will find a way!"

Poor Zarlah! Little did I imagine the desperate plan that was already forming in her mind when she uttered these words, that before the close of another day would indeed have proved her "brave even unto death."

Drawing closer to me and turning her beautiful face up to mine, she said, after a pause, in which she seemed to read my very soul: "Before me lies a duty, Harold, which with you at my side I have the strength to perform, but without you the sacrifice is too great."

"What is it, dearest?" I asked, pressing the little hand I held to my lips.

"It is to destroy the wicked instrument of which I have told you. I had not the courage to do this before, as I feared for your safety in returning to Earth, and to have destroyed it then would have left me in fearful suspense. But now I must put away, forever, this awful thing that possesses the power to reveal the thoughts of my fellow beings, that its mechanism may never become known and thus prove an eternal curse to the world."

With these words, Zarlah disappeared for a moment in the gloom of a cave nearby, and, returning with a small metal box, said in a voice which betrayed great emotion: "Take it, Harold, and hurl it far out into the waters of the lake, where it will sink forever from sight!"

The earnestness with which Zarlah had spoken of this device, proved how deeply its existence troubled her conscience, and restrained me from making any attempt to persuade her from thus severing a connecting strand between two hearts so widely separated. I therefore took the box and, with all my strength, hurled it far out into the lake, where it sank to remain a secret for all time.

Swiftly flew those precious moments in which Fate had destined that two hearts from separate worlds should taste of each other's love, and then—what? Alone in our great love we drank deeply the cup of happiness, and the hour of parting, ever drawing nearer, seemed but a cloud on the horizon. At last, yielding to necessity, we retraced our steps, leaving the scene of our joyous love behind, and the dread of parting filled our hearts and stifled our words of happiness.

Strange to say, as I stood in that other world, there surged through my alien mind some lines of Clinton Scollard's, which I had once learned, little dreaming of their significance:

"Lo, it has come, the inevitable hour When thou and I, beloved one, must part; When heart be sundered from caressing heart, And ungloomed skies be turned to dreary gray."

A silence fell upon us, both dreading to put into words the thoughts we knew must be spoken. Then, as our hearts beat audibly in the sacred stillness of night that had fallen about us, Zarlah murmured, clinging to me in despair, "Oh, Harold, my love, how can we bear the agony of being parted!"

"I would give my life to remain with you, dearest!" I answered, pressing her passionately to me, but in a more soothing tone I added,

"We must be brave, love, it is but for a day—to-morrow I shall return, but before my departure from Earth I will speak with Almos, and tell him that I wish to abandon my body forever and to abide in spirit on Mars. In a virator constructed with two upper chambers, my spirit could be retained indefinitely, and I would then see you daily through the medium of Almos. To-morrow, dearest, I shall return to you with good news."

"Ah! Harold, you do not see the impossibility of such a thing—you cannot behold it through a woman's eyes. No, no! I can never see Almos again! I gave my love to you through his medium, and to see him when you were absent would be greater agony than I could bear. I must go with you, Harold, to the world in which you live, where I can have you always."

With words of love and assurance I tried to comfort the brave little heart that beat so loyally for me, and, fearing to leave her in this unhappy condition, I lingered until barely time remained in which to reach the observatory before Paris would pass out of wave contact. Explaining this to Zarlah, we hurried to the villa, and, as we ascended the steps to the balcony, I beheld a large high-speed aerenoid resting a short distance from mine. This, Zarlah begged me to take, explaining that by rising a few hundred feet above the elevation of small aerenoids, I could safely exceed the customary speed of local traffic. She explained that her brother had just returned in it from the north, where he had spent the day in the enjoyment of winter pastimes.

My heart was too full of the sorrow of parting to be aroused to enthusiasm at even such a wonder as this, and, realizing that I would be unaccustomed to an aerenoid that was strange to Almos, I decided to trust to the smaller one reaching the observatory in time. But not a moment was to be lost, and, begging Zarlah to be courageous until my return the following evening, I pressed her to my heart in a last fond embrace.

Oh! the agony of that moment, as I felt the slender form in my arms convulsed with sobs, while I, struggling frantically with the emotions that tore my heart, whispered words of passionate love; and as at last I rose in the night air, condemned by Fate to journey millions of miles from her I adored, my soul cried out in its anguish:

"'Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits—and then Re-mould it nearer to our Heart's Desire?'"



CHAPTER XI.

THE DISCOVERY AT THE MARTIAN OBSERVATORY.

Although I well knew the fatal consequences of arriving at the observatory too late, and realized that in this slow travelling aerenoid my chances of covering the five miles in time were but slight, so depressed and desperate was I that I gave the matter little thought. Indeed, my mind was entirely occupied with thoughts of Zarlah. Vainly did I search Almos' scientific knowledge for a means of transportation over millions of miles of space. All my theories led to but one conclusion—that no material transit over such an enormous distance was possible. My heart sank within me as I thought how brief my happiness had been. But then came the bewildering realization that an eternity of loneliness would not be too much to pay for the unutterable joy which nothing could take from me. Raised aloft to the highest pinnacle of happiness, I had been permitted to experience the joy of Zarlah's love—a love that I had thought was for Almos—only to be dashed down into still deeper despair. Then a great anguish filled my heart as I realized that before I was alone in my misery, which, through a thoughtless action, I had brought upon myself, but now my agony was shared by a loving and trusting heart that had been joined to mine by the decree of Fate.

The thought of the unhappiness I had brought into Zarlah's life maddened me, and when at last the aerenoid rested upon the balcony of the observatory, I stepped out, caring little whether wave contact had ceased or not. I would enter the virator in any case, and at once fulfil my obligation to Almos, through whose generosity I had been permitted to visit this veritable paradise. Then, if wave contact with Paris still existed my spirit would return to my body which lay there, but if not, I felt that Fate would have thus solved the hopeless tangle into which it had precipitated me.

As I proceeded across the balcony, I was astonished to observe a high-speed aerenoid lying close to the one I knew belonged to Almos. What could it mean! That a visitor would enter the observatory knowing Almos to be absent, I could not conceive, as I was well aware of the sanctity of a dwelling in the Martian mind, especially when that dwelling was the theatre of such experiments and observations as the observatory conducted by Almos.

Greatly perturbed I turned and entered the building, and, with all haste, proceeded down the corridor. As I reached the portieres of the large room, the sound of someone within moving about caused my heart to beat wildly, and, thrusting aside the curtains, I beheld Reon.

For a moment I was mute with astonishment, then, as he smilingly advanced with extended hand, I knew instantly that he was present at Almos' request. Without further time for thought, I grasped his hand and greeted him cordially, realizing that no matter what the object of his visit was, it was known to Almos, and under no circumstances must I appear surprised. Without waiting to be questioned, Reon offered me a slip of paper on which I observed Almos' handwriting.

"I carefully followed your instructions, Almos, regarding the virator, and, half an hour later, I turned off the current of super-radium. I was just preparing to leave. You are late in returning, are you not?"

While Reon thus spoke, I had gained time to glance hastily over the instructions that Almos had written upon the slip of paper which I held in my hand, and I now replied, with every nerve strung in an effort to appear calm:

"I am, Reon, a whole hour late, and very sorry, indeed, to have kept you waiting so long. But now, my good fellow, you must be off; I will not detain you a moment longer than it takes to thank you for your kindness from the bottom of my heart."

So saying, I shook his hand warmly, and accompanying him to the balcony, waved him adieu.

The gratitude which I had thus expressed to Reon, was by no means mere acting. My hasty glance at the instructions had convinced me that he had been the means of saving my life. Without noticing the hour mentioned, I had just time enough, while Reon was speaking, to note that he was instructed to turn on the current from the upper chamber of the virator, and, half an hour later, to shut off the super-radium current. I felt that Almos had in this way prepared to save my life, in case I arrived at the observatory too late to return to Earth. With wonderful forethought—perhaps even a premonition of my late return—he had requested Reon to visit the observatory and instructed him what to do at a certain time, with the result that Almos' spirit had been transferred to my body in Paris, before it was lost forever by passing out of wave contact.

Hastening to the virator, I now examined it, and found that Reon had faithfully carried out the instructions, although he was unaware that in so doing he had saved a life, doubtless thinking that in Almos' absence, he had merely attended to the details of an important experiment.

I felt that I could never repay Almos for all he had undertaken for my safety. The following evening I would enter the virator, and do precisely as Almos had done on previous evenings. When Almos' spirit had arrived, he would then change the current to an outflowing one, and dispatch my spirit to Earth.

Although my thoughts of Zarlah had been interrupted by the excitement incident to finding Reon at the observatory, I was soon absorbed once more in the subject ever foremost in my mind. With my head resting on my hands, I sat hour after hour, endeavoring to conceive some plan—no matter how hazardous—that would result in my being able to remain on Mars with Zarlah. But the gloom of despair only deepened, and all solutions were perforce dismissed.

At my feet lay the slip of paper which bore the instructions for Reon. Many times during the long hours of deep thought, had my eyes rested upon it, only to seek a new object as a new problem confronted me. Suddenly, starting to my feet and snatching the paper from the ground, I uttered an exclamation of astonishment. For the first time, I noticed the hour at which Reon was to carry out his instructions—it was three hours before the time for my departure!

Almos had, then, deliberately planned to take my place on Earth, and in return to give me his on Mars. How I had been kept in ignorance of these plans, I knew not, but, as I stood staring at the paper in my hand, my mind gradually comprehended all that Almos had, until now, so successfully hidden from me.

Impelled by these strange revelations, I hastened to the sleeping chamber, and glanced eagerly around in search of some message that would explain more fully the reason for Almos' departure to Earth. Nor was I disappointed, for upon the couch lay a letter addressed to "Harold Lonsdale." Almos had naturally supposed that I would retire soon after making the discovery that he had gone to Earth, and that I would then find the letter which, in this chamber, was safe from Reon's observation.

As I read the contents my eyes filled with tears of overwhelming gratitude, and my heart went out in sincere affection to him who, in this brief message, which was the sacrifice of a strong and noble character, offered me his life on Mars with the love that he had known was mine, but which otherwise I could never possess.

Pacing the room under the influence of strong emotions, I laid the letter down, only to pick it up again and reread its contents carefully. No other man, living on Earth or Mars, could have done as much for me as had Almos this night. He had not only saved my life, but had given to me the thing that was far dearer. It was a princely gift, and my mind, trained as it had been to the cramped confines of a sordid existence in a mercenary world, was slow to comprehend the limitless wealth of happiness and love which it bestowed upon me. Sleep was impossible, and I longed for the morning, that I might hasten to my beloved, and tell her of the happiness that was ours.



CHAPTER XII.

THE WARNING OF DANGER——THE RACE WITH DEATH.

Slowly crept the long tedious hours of darkness. The heavy cloud of despair that had so long hung over me, now being dispelled as if by magic, I was all impatience. My heart yearned for the moment when, gazing into the depths of Zarlah's wondrous eyes, I should see there—not the appealing timid look, full of the dread of hopeless separation from her lover, that had so wrung my heart at our last parting—but the radiant happiness of perfect contentment and fulfilled desire. I had thrown myself on the couch, and, as a miser jealously counts over his gold, fondling each precious bit with eager fingers, so I pondered on the happy hours spent with Zarlah, carefully reviewing each golden moment with its precious burden of Love's confessions.

Suddenly I sprang to my feet—a piercing, despairing cry of "Harold, my love, save me! save me!" was ringing in my ears.

It was Zarlah's voice, and some terrible danger confronted her.

Rushing into the adjoining room, I glanced anxiously about—all was still. The numerous books and instruments lay just as I had left them, and I gradually realized that, tired with the experiences I had lately undergone, I had unconsciously fallen asleep, and Zarlah's cry for help was only a dream.

Although greatly relieved by this discovery, my mind remained in a state of unrest. I was oppressed with a sense of danger which, in spite of my endeavor to overcome by occupying my mind with the volumes of Martian astronomical discoveries, I found to be impossible. Laying aside the book I had endeavored to read, I started to my feet and paced restlessly to and fro, but each footfall, echoing in the profound stillness, seemed to be an appealing cry for help. A premonition that a terrible danger hung over Zarlah came upon me, and, maddened by the thought that I remained inactive, whilst yet I might save her, I rushed out upon the balcony.

The sun was just rising, but in place of the gray light of dawn on Earth with its beautifully colored eastern sky, there appeared sharp contrasts of the blackest darkness and the most brilliant light, in the long shadows that were cast across the landscape. Without the diffusion of light which the denser atmosphere of Earth causes, night seemed to linger on the very footsteps of day. Though the remarkable effect of this Martian sunrise would have been pleasing under other circumstances, it now served only to increase my apprehension, warning me that I was in a strange world, and that I must be prepared to meet extraordinary emergencies.

I had but one thought, that of reaching Zarlah as speedily as possible and saving her from the awful fate which menaced her. What this fate was, I knew not, but I could feel its presence like the hot breath of some ferocious beast, as it stands over its prostrate victim. Greatly did I now deplore the loss of Zarlah's valuable instrument.

With eager hands I prepared the high-speed aerenoid for the journey, feeling that I must trust to Almos' knowledge of its operation to carry me through safely. Though I realized that the danger was increased a thousand times in an aerenoid capable of such terrific speed, the fear that even now I might be too late compelled me to make use of it.

Taking my place in the forward part of the car, I was greatly relieved to find that my hand instinctively sought the levers, and operated them with a judicious care that could result only from long experience.

Rising high enough to avoid small aerenoids, I proceeded at a considerable speed and soon came within sight of Zarlah's dwelling. The serene and peaceful appearance of this beautiful white marble villa, as the morning sun glorified it, quickly dispelled the fears that had brought me hither at such an early hour, and I gladly attributed them to overwrought nerves and the loss of a night's sleep.

Moreover, as I slowly circled over the lake that only a few hours before Zarlah and I had wistfully gazed upon together as we built a world of happiness for ourselves, I felt that I was near to her, should the danger of which I had been forewarned prove real. Here in the scene of our happiness I would wait through the early hours—the last hours of our separation.

Slowly descending, I brought the aerenoid to rest in a spot obscured by trees from the villa. A few feet away, the little brook sparkled merrily in the sunlight as it leaped along on its journey to the lake, and, as I opened the door of the car, its joyous song swelled upon the fragrant morning air, laughing at my forebodings in this world of peace, as it had laughed at my despair of the previous night.

As I stepped out into the warm sunlight and made my way toward the lake, a great joy filled my heart. It would not be long ere Zarlah shared with me the happiness of the knowledge that we need never again be separated.

"Poor Zarlah!" I murmured, as the memory of our last parting with its great anguish of a forlorn hope sent a pang to my heart. "The bitterness in thy cup was indeed great, but it is past. Oh, my beloved, awake to the light of a new day filled with gladness, and sorrow shall not again cross thy path!"

I paused, fancying I heard footsteps, and, glancing back, listened intently. All was still, and I was just about to proceed when again the sound came. This time I could not be mistaken; it was the sound of hurried footsteps some distance off and in the direction of the villa.

I was still hidden from the villa by the trees, but across the stream, some thirty yards away, was an opening from which a view of it could be had. Leaping the stream I hastened thither, anxious to learn the cause of the untimely activity. Another moment, and I should have been too late to see a slight figure, laden with what appeared to be wraps and other travelling equipment, hurry across the balcony and step into the large high-speed aerenoid that I had observed there the previous evening.

It was Zarlah! But what was the reason of this hasty departure at such an hour? Suddenly a frenzy seized me, and, rushing toward the villa, I frantically called to her, but it was too late. She had not seen me, and, before I had taken many steps, the aerenoid rose rapidly to a great height and disappeared over the trees.

Not a moment was to be lost. Turning, I dashed wildly back toward the aerenoid I had so foolishly left in concealment. Reaching the stream, I stumbled over an entanglement of vines and plunged headlong therein, only to scramble, dripping and bruised, up the opposite bank and continue my frantic efforts to reach the aerenoid, before Zarlah's car had disappeared from sight. What her intention was I knew not, but the early hour, the haste with which she had departed, and the absence of her brother, all conspired to arouse the fears that had beset me during the long hours of the night.

Arriving at the aerenoid at last, after a journey that seemed to consume hours, I jumped in and closed the door. Frantically I seized the lever that controlled the ascension and, pulling it so that the full repelling power was instantly exposed, the car bounded high into the air with terrific force.

The shock hurled me off my feet, but in an instant my eyes were again fixed upon a mere speck many miles distant, which I knew to be the aerenoid containing all that life possessed for me. As the car plunged forward at great speed, the speck disappeared, and I at once realized that Zarlah had reached a canal, into which she had turned her aerenoid. It was now impossible for me to see which direction she took, and unless I arrived at the canal within a few seconds, I felt that all hope of overtaking her would have vanished, as she would doubtless proceed at full speed and soon be lost to sight.

Opening to its fullest extent the valve that controlled the exhaustion of air in the chamber beneath, the velocity of the car soon became terrific, and, rising still higher as I sped along, I caught sight of Zarlah's aerenoid proceeding in a northerly direction.

With a disregard for all safety I swerved to the north, thus forming the third side of a triangle, of which the other sides were the course Zarlah had taken. This movement reduced the distance between the two aerenoids considerably, and upon turning into the speedway of the canal, I was greatly relieved to find that I was but a few miles in the rear. The hope that Zarlah might see the car speeding so close behind her, flashed through my mind, but instantly I realized the impossibility of such a thing, for a glance behind, even for a second, while travelling with such frightful velocity, would entail certain destruction by being dashed to pieces against the sides of the canal. My only chance lay in overtaking her and making some signal, and with my free hand I wrenched at the speed valve, endeavoring to open it wider.

On we sped in our wild career over the planet's surface. Hundreds of miles were quickly swept beneath us, but not one foot did I seem to gain. Vainly did I strive to put from my mind the fears that lurked there, by seeking a plausible reason for Zarlah's strange action.

On, on we flew, each aerenoid going at its maximum speed; surely Zarlah had gone far enough north; she must slacken her speed soon to turn down a branch canal, and I would then be able to run alongside of her car and signal my presence. There was a gleam of hope in this, and to it I clung like a drowning man to a straw.

The air in the car, which had steadily grown colder, was now biting in its sharpness, and as I clutched the steering apparatus with numbed hands, a white object loomed up in the distance and in a second flew beneath me—another came, then another, and another, and as they appeared in greater numbers, I observed that they were huge blocks of ice. The sight filled me with grave apprehension. It was now impossible to stop our terrific momentum, yet in spite of this great danger, on and on we sped, still farther north.

What could be the reason for this perilous journey? Did Zarlah not realize the danger to which she was exposed, rushing thus madly into the wilds of the North—the region of the Repelling Pole—without the means of stopping?

Suddenly I shrank in horror as a fearful thought entered my mind. My senses reeled, and a strange sensation swept over me, as of an awful Presence in the car with me. "No, no," I muttered between clenched teeth; "it cannot be! She surely realizes that it would be going to a certain and terrible death!" And as I frantically wrenched at the valve in an effort to get more speed, a strange hollow voice echoed through my brain, laughing at my unutterable agony, and crying with fiendish glee, "Your love has no thought of stopping; she hastens to her bridegroom, Death!"

As hot irons scorching the living flesh, the words burned into my brain, setting it on fire. It was the voice of Death—which voice no living mortal can mistake—and I recognized it also as the fury of the storm which was abroad when I departed from Earth, and the echo of the stream's song of peace in the midst of danger. Had Death thus followed me from the world in which he thrived to wreak this vengeance upon me, by tempting my bride into his arms, believing that she hastened to her love?

On, on we rushed into the region of the dreaded Pole. All signs of the canal had disappeared, and before us lay only a vast uninhabitable field of ice. I stood at the levers, frozen rigid with the intense cold, but with my eyes ever on the flying object before me, while visions of my beloved one, now so close to death, passed rapidly through my fevered brain. As if Death had thus planned to torture me, before tearing my loved one from my very arms, I seemed to stand impersonally apart and watch two lovers—Zarlah and myself. Bending over her, I tried to console her with a false hope—a story of impossible fulfillment. I succeeded; and now I saw that I had laid the trap which Death had placed in my hands to draw her toward him, and, with a cry of horror, I tried to wrench my hand from the lever to which it was frozen, so that I might shut such a scene from my sight—

I realized the meaning of it all now. Zarlah, unable to obtain the repelling force necessary to carry her off Mars, was rushing toward the Repelling Pole to be hurled off the planet, risking all in the hope of being drawn to Earth, which was in opposition. It was a vain hope—alas, I knew this too well. She was rushing to her death—a death that I had lured her to, and my hands would be stained with the blood of my beloved.

Desperately I wrenched at my frozen hands to free them from the metal to which they adhered, with a wild idea of smashing the window and calling loudly to Zarlah. The skin tore from the flesh like paper at the fury of my efforts, and I freed my hands at last, only to find that my arms hung lifeless at my side.

In a frenzy of grief and despair at my utter helplessness, I fell on my knees, crying aloud, "Oh, my God! Save her from this awful death!"

A sudden gloom filled the car, and, struggling to my feet, I found that we had entered the belt of semi-darkness that covers the polar caps in their winter season. Our doom was near at hand—nothing could save Zarlah now, and only by swerving my car around instantly and returning could I preserve myself. But life was nought to me without Zarlah—I preferred death to such an empty existence. Condemned by Fate to be separated in life, we would meet death together.

I could dimly see Zarlah's car outlined against the white snow beyond, but, even as I stood now helplessly and silently awaiting the end, a dark line rapidly spread over this field of white. Beyond, all was black, and as this sharp-cut boundary line rapidly approached Zarlah's car, my blood froze in my veins, for in this vast area of bare black rock I recognized the terrible power of the North Repelling Pole. There was another moment in which my heart refused to beat, then a groan of great anguish escaped my lips, as Zarlah's car was hurled upwards into space with frightful velocity.

Shutting my eyes I awaited death. For an instant it seemed to me that I heard Zarlah's voice call to me in clear accents, then came a terrific shock which hurled me to the far end of the aerenoid, amid a confusion of furniture, books, and instruments that had been torn from their fastenings. Frozen into a state of utter helplessness, my senses fast leaving me, I lay unable to extricate myself from the heavy mass.

In this comatose condition I remained totally ignorant of the lapse of time, until, feeling the terrible pressure diminish, I opened my eyes and dreamily beheld the heavy instruments and pieces of furniture move gently away, and bump against one another as they floated lightly about within the car.

Relieved of the great weight, I now breathed more freely. My senses grew clearer, and soon I became conscious of a loud hissing noise close at hand. Drowsily I turned my head in the direction of the sound, and discovered that it came from the door in the side of the aerenoid. In an instant the full faculty of my senses returned, as with intense horror I realized the cause—the air of the car was escaping into the void of the universe without! Desperately I struggled to gain my feet, but being without weight, the effort resulted only in my drifting helplessly about the car, until, gasping for air, I realized that the end had come.