I felt a strange soul
kinship for this Martian, which seemed to spring up the moment I saw his
image portrayed on my instrument. And the feeling was not one of
ordinary friendship. I felt I was drawn to him by some mysterious power,
that gave him the place of a brother in my affections--a power that
seemed to have brought us together, and now united us with a great
common and compelling interest. And yet as I pictured his handsome,
almost beautiful face, there was still another face I had seen--but
where? The Martian had been alone, yet I was conscious of a face that
was wonderfully beautiful, that seemed the goal for which I was
striving. It led me to greater effort after failure; the face which I
yearned to see and yet strangely dreaded seeing.
It was useless for me to try to understand such thoughts, and to banish
them from my mind was impossible. I was overcome with a sense of
loneliness. Looking at my watch, I found that it was already past the
hour when Mars would be visible through the window on a clear night,
but, alas, the sky showed no signs of clearing; though my instrument
stood ready, it was useless.
But, obeying some irresistible impulse, I decided to turn on the current
and stand by the instrument in case an opening in the clouds should
occur, for even a moment.
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