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.
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