by James Cowan
CHAPTER XV.
A NIGHT ADVENTURE
It was late when the conversation closed, and Proctor said we were tospend the night with him of course, and in the morning he would takepleasure in introducing to us the other members of his household.
The residence buildings, beautiful and commodious structures, adjoinedthe observatory, and to each of us was given a separate apartment. AfterProctor had left us, Thorwald came into my room a moment and I said tohim:
"Proctor is a friend of yours, is he not?"
"Certainly," answered Thorwald, "what could he be but a friend? But thenI never saw him before today."
"Is it possible? Are strangers always treated so hospitably?"
"I see nothing unusual in his treatment of us. We are always atperfect liberty to stay where ever night overtakes us, and it makes nodifference with the quality of the hospitality whether the guests areacquaintances or not."
The memory of that night will remain with me many years. Before fallingasleep I let my mind dwell on the singular circumstances in which wewere placed and the strange manner of our leaving the earth. I had neverexperienced anything that seemed more real, and yet I could not make itappear quite reasonable that we were in truth living on the planet Mars.All I could say was that it was an instance where the facts were againstthe theory, and I knew that in such cases it was always safest tobelieve in the facts. I could distinctly remember each step of ourjourney, and there could be no mistake about our present understanding.What settled the question more firmly than ever was this thought: If wewere not on Mars, where were we? We must be somewhere.
By the time I had disposed of all my doubts I was becoming drowsy, andthen I began to think of the doctor and his unfortunate condition ofmind. This malady would doubtless increase and I should have to lookout for him, and at the same time fill the arduous position of the onlysound representative of our race in Mars. I resolved to try once more tomake my companion see how ridiculous his strange fancy was and realizethe danger of clinging to it.
With this thought my brain lost coherence, and I passed over theinvisible boundary into dreamland. It was a beautiful evening in summer.I was at home among my friends and we were sitting in the open air. Thedoctor was there, taking his turn with me in telling the story of ouradventures. This went on till our listeners were tired out, and thenone of the company gave a little variety to the occasion by singing acapital song.
Here the scene changed to the country. It was morning in the woods. Thetrees wore their spring foliage, bright flowers spread their beauty andfragrance around us, and the air was filled with the music of birds. Thesweet notes of these songsters were by far the most vivid part of thedream. Now loud, now soft, the unbroken melody absorbed our attentionand made it difficult for us to understand how our situation againgradually changed, until the air became piercingly cold, the cruel windbeat upon us furiously, and the violent elements seemed bent upon ourdestruction.
The doctor and I were alone, and the surroundings bore a strangeresemblance to the inhospitable surface of the moon. But what are thosesweet sounds still ringing in our ears? Sure no birds could live insuch a wild place. No, it is not a bird's song. It is more like a humanvoice. I thought I had never before heard music so pure and rich. Butwait--had I not heard something like it once before? There was a mysteryabout it that enhanced its sweetness. Now I was really thinking, forbefore I knew how it happened I found myself wide awake. The dream wasover, but, oh! wonderful dream, the best of it remained. My sense ofhearing, always acute, had waked long before and left my other facultiesto slumber on and dream out the unreal accompaniments of a real voice.For now, with my eyes open and my mind released from sleep, I stillheard that marvelous, half-familiar song.
Could I be deceived? I determined to know beyond a doubt that I wasawake. I rose and, throwing on a dressing gown, turned up the light andwalked about the room. I looked in the mirror to see if my eyes wereopen, and then ate a little fruit from a tempting dish that stood on thetable. In one corner of the room was an elegant writing desk. I openedit, found its appointments complete, drew up a comfortable chair, and,choosing pen and paper, determined to record my impressions for futureperusal, if by any means my memory should fail me. This is what I wrote:
"I, the undersigned, am in my private room in the house of Proctor, theastronomer, province of ----, planet Mars. It is about the middle ofthe night, precise date unknown. I am wide awake, in my usual health,appetite good, heart a little fluttering but temperature and pulsenormal. I have been awakened from sleep by strains of distant music,which mingled with my dreams but refused to be silenced when the restof the dreams melted away. Now, while I am writing, the delicious melodyfills my ears. I never before heard so sweet a voice, unless, indeed,I have heard the same voice before. In regard to this I can form nopresent opinion. I must take another time to consider it. Now I cannotthink, I am so engrossed in listening to the singer's entrancing notes.The song is so full of light and cheer and sends such beautiful thoughtstrooping through my brain that I wish it may go on forever."
I signed my name to this with a firm hand, and then, as I leaned backin my chair to close my eyes and drink in more deeply still this rareenjoyment, darkness seemed to fall suddenly upon my spirit. The voiceceased, and in a moment the last sweet echoes had died away.
I crept into bed as speedily as possible, to try to forget my sadnessin sleep. But oblivion would not be forced, and so I took what comfortI could in thinking of that interrupted song, and in trying to feel overagain in memory that pleasure which my fleshly ears no longer gave me. Icould still recognize a distinct tinge of familiarity in the notes, butwhen I came to the question of locating the singer I was utterly withouta clew. I knew well enough that there was no earthly voice which couldenter into the comparison, and so I need waste no time in going overthat part of my life. But I had heard no singing of any kind in Marsbefore this night. How was it possible that I could have experiencedthat delightful sensation before and not be able to fix the place ortime? It was a puzzling question, but I refused to give it up I knew thesong, and the memory of it warmed my heart with each recurring flash,but the singer I did not know.
At length I fell asleep, and woke to find the sun of Mars shiningpleasantly upon my bed. I recalled at once the experience of the nightand confirmed my memory by finding on the desk the paper I had written,and still there was enough suspicion in my mind of the reality of thewhole thing to make me anxious to know if the doctor had heard what hadso impressed me. But on going to find him I discovered that he had lefthis room, and so it happened that we did not meet till the family cametogether in the morning reception room, in preparation for breakfast.Here Proctor presented us to his wife, Fronda, and his daughters, twostately girls, whom he did not name. Thorwald and Zenith kindly helpedthe doctor and me to answer the many questions which these new friendswere so eager to ask, so that, as breakfast proceeded, all becameengaged in the conversation. My own mind, however, was somewhatpreoccupied. I thought perhaps Thorwald might be in haste to depart forhome, and I was determined not to let the company separate till I hadmade an attempt to discover who my midnight singer was. So, when therecame a convenient lull in the talk, I made bold to say:
"Can anyone present tell me who it was that woke me in the night 'withconcord of sweet sounds'?"
A general smile passed around the table at this question, while Frondalooked at me and said pleasantly,
"It must have been Avis. She is very fond of singing and considers allhours her own. I hope it did not disturb your slumbers."
"It was no disturbance, I assure you. But is Avis present? I should liketo thank her for the great pleasure she gave me."
"No," replied Fronda, "she took an early breakfast and started out for along walk."
"Then I may as well tell you all about it," I said.
And I related my dream and then read to them all the paper I hadwritten. Everyone listened with the greatest eagerness and showed moreinterest, I thought, than th
e circumstances as I had related them calledfor, but I afterwards learned that they had excellent reasons for it.
When breakfast was over I was glad to find that Thorwald seemed to be inno haste to go home. I began to feel an intense longing to see Avis, andI had planned, if Thorwald should insist on leaving too soon, topropose to Proctor that I would stay a few days and assist him in theobservatory.
The doctor and I soon found an opportunity to speak together privately,and he began:
"So the voice of Avis was a little familiar to you?"
"Yes," I replied, "but I am not able to tell from what niche in memory'shall it comes."
"Does it recall anything you heard or saw on the moon?"
"That dreadful place? No, indeed," I replied. "Are you going to bring upMona again?"
"You asked me never to mention that name again, and now you have spokenit."
"Well," I asked, "will you forgive me for that foolish request if I willlet you talk to me about her now?"
"I am not anxious to talk about her," the doctor answered, "especiallyas I know the topic is not a pleasant one to you."
Without noticing this last remark, I asked abruptly:
"Was Mona a good singer?"
"Fair."
"As good as Avis?"
"I think so, though I am not a critic."
"Did I understand you to say she was handsome?"
"Beautiful."
"And I fell in love with her?"
"You had all the symptoms. But why do you insist on talking on such adisagreeable subject? Come, let's go and find Proctor."
"Wait. One question more. Have you seen Avis?"
"Yes."
"Who is she?"
"I believe she is a friend of the family merely."
"Does she live here?"
"She is staying here for the present."
"Is she beautiful, too?"
"I shall leave you to be your own judge of that when you see her. Now,not another question."
"Well," I said, as we started to find some of the others, "if the Monaof your imagination gives you as much pleasure as Avis has given mebefore I have seen her, I do not wonder that you cherish her memory."
This conversation left me still more anxious to see Avis, and I lookedfor her return every moment, but the morning passed and finally the daywore to its close without bringing us together. I did not like to makemy strong desire known by asking after her, and, besides, I began tohave a slight suspicion that there was some design in keeping us frommeeting.
When it was time to retire that night I took the doctor to my room, andI think it was a surprise to both of us when we fell to talking aboutMona again. At my request the doctor related at considerable length ourexperience on the moon, as he remembered it, and set Mona out in mostattractive style. I let him go on, without laughing at him as I hadformerly done, and the longer he talked the more serious and thoughtfulI became. As he told the details of our daily life, recalling many ofMona's words and actions, a new thought flashed through my mind--thethought that possibly the doctor was right after all. At that instant,when my interest was most intense, once more the distant echoes of thathappy song fell upon my ear.
That was the magic influence needed for my restoration. At once, and allat once, down fell the walls that had so unhappily obscured my mentalvision, and left my memory clear as day. I jumped from my seat, seizedthe doctor's hand, and exclaimed:
"I see it all now, old fellow. You were right and I was the crazy one."
"Good, I rejoice with you."
With that voice coming nearer and pouring its melody upon us, we couldnot say more at the time. I threw myself into a chair, let my headfall back, and closed my eyes to enjoy it. The doctor, feeling it to bebetter to let me think it out by myself, stole away and left me alone.
Alone, but not lonesome, for was not Mona with me? I could see her everylook and motion, and experienced with a great throb of the heart that mylove had only strengthened with my period of forgetfulness. I rememberedher last words, that very likely we would never see her again. But whyshould not she be saved as easily as we were? What if she were even nowafloat in the ocean? But perhaps some one had rescued her. Could shebe in Mars and singing for other ears than mine? Singing! Why, who issinging now, right here in this very house? Can it be possible? Howstupid I have been. Perhaps I can see her now.
I jumped up and rushed from the room, but was no sooner outside my doorthan the voice began to die again, and in a moment the last notes hadfloated away. I could not determine from which direction the song hadcome and had no clew to guide me toward the singer. It was very late andall the house was quiet. Unable to pursue my quest, I reentered my room,but it was hours before I could compose my mind sufficiently to sleep.The possible joy that awaited me in the morning, the dreadful fearthat I should be disappointed, the violent beating of my heart at everythought of Mona, and my anxiety lest she might even now be exposed todanger somewhere, all combined to keep me excited and restless the wholenight long. As I lay tossing and thinking, my most serious doubt wasoccasioned by the reflection that people of such exalted morals wouldnot deceive me by declaring that this singer's name was Avis if it werenot true. But then I thought further that the doctor had given Mona thename by which we knew her, and that Fronda would have just as much rightto give her a new name. Perhaps her real name after all was Avis.
When the welcome morning came I found the doctor and gave him a heartygrasp to show him that there had been no lapse in my mental condition,but I asked him to say nothing to Thorwald just at present about myrecovery. Then we hurried down to the reception room and, early as itwas, found most of the household already there. After looking eagerlyaround and seeing only those whom I had previously met, I inquired, withas little apparent concern as possible:
"Hasn't Avis appeared? I thought she was an early riser."
To which Fronda quickly replied:
"Oh, Avis was up half an hour ago, and asked me to excuse her to thecompany, saying she was going to spend the morning with a friend she metyesterday."
This was a hard blow for me, and it was with difficulty that Irestrained my impatience, but I was a little consoled with the idea thatthe morning only was to be consumed by this visit, and that we mightlook for a return by noon.
After breakfast, when Proctor had gone to the observatory and Frondaand her daughters were showing Zenith about the house, the doctor beggedThorwald to resume the talk begun on board the ship, which hadbeen interrupted by the discovery of land. As Thorwald expressed awillingness to comply, the doctor continued:
"You were trying to convince me of the probability of life in otherworlds besides the earth and Mars, and in your attempt to show alikeness between the earth and other parts of the universe, you werespeaking on the interesting subject of meteorites."
"I remember," answered Thorwald, "I was just asking you what theory youof the earth hold on that important topic."