Daybreak; A Romance of an Old World

by James Cowan

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  VANQUISHED AGAIN BY A VOICE.

  We all hoped Mona's affliction would prove temporary, but after a numberof days had passed, and no improvement appeared, Thorwald had an expertanatomist come to the house and make an examination of the organs of herthroat. Although this was a new way in which to apply his skill, as theMartians of that era were all physically perfect, he thought he might beable to discover the cause of the trouble. The result of this experimentwas somewhat reassuring, for our scientist told us there was no defectof organ or injury to any part, closing his report with the remarkthat the case presented the greatest mystery of the kind he had everencountered. My companion, the doctor, now expressed his opinion, whichcoincided with my own. This was, that Mona's trouble was occasioned bythe shock to her nervous system when she was plunged into the water,an element which she so much dreaded. Our good friends, including theexpert, were utterly unable to understand the meaning of this theory.The remark that Zenith made was:

  "Why, but for our friend, and others who pry into these things for us,we would never know we had any nerves."

  "Happy will our race be," responded the doctor, "when it arrives at thesame blissful ignorance."

  "Well," continued Zenith, "if your opinion is the correct one, what havewe to hope for in Mona's case?"

  "Unfortunately," answered the doctor, "we have no experience to teach uswhat to expect. We can only hope with you that she may speedily recoverher voice, which has seemed to form such a great part of her, and hasgiven us all so much delight."

  Perhaps it was imagination, but it seemed to me that Mona's behaviortoward me was more affectionate than it had formerly been. She had toldme before, to be sure, that she had loved me with all her heart, but inthese latter days she appeared to seek my society more and to show otherindications that her love was assuming more of the personal element forwhich I had once so assiduously sought. But how was it with myself? Thisquestion forced itself on me, one day, and I was a little startled tofind that an answer did not spring up spontaneously. Was it possiblethat my love was becoming cold? I would not admit it. Just as the poorgirl had lost her chief attraction, should I turn from her and forgetall my former professions? On the first suspicion that such mightpossibly be my desire, I said it was a wicked thought and I shouldnever let it be true. But even if I could not force my heart to remainfaithful, no one should ever know it but myself.

  A little more time elapsed and I discovered that, in spite of my braveresolutions, Mona, silent, was filling less and less of my thoughts,and that I was living on the precious memory of her lost voice. But thisdiscovery did not shake my determination ever to be to Mona herself atrue and faithful lover.

  At this juncture I was sitting alone, one morning, going over in my mindthe strange vicissitudes of my love affair, when, in a far-distant partof the house, I heard a sound which thrilled me. I stopped allmotion and listened, my heart, however, trembling with the fear of adisappointment. The music, for it was sweet music to me, came nearer,and now I could not be mistaken. What joy filled my heart! Howimpossible to forget that voice! I sat still and let it come. Sheevidently knew where I was and was coming to find me, pouring forthher heart in the way she knew I adored. Where now were my fears that myheart was growing cold toward her? Could it be possible that I had everdoubted my affection for her since I first heard her sing? Nearer itcomes, filling my ears now with its familiar melody, a song withoutwords but full of meaning for one who hears aright. She is guided trueby the lamp of love and is now in the next room. I cannot wait, butinterrupt her song with this cry:

  "Come to me, my love, come quickly. I know your voice and the meaning ofyour song, and my heart responds to yours."

  The strain continues, and soon a form appears in the doorway. I springfrom my seat and start to meet it, but fall back almost immediately inconfusion.

  "Oh, Avis," I exclaimed with vexation, "I thought you were Mona again. Isupposed you were on the other side of the world."

  "I was, but I have come back to sing for you. I heard poor Mona had losther voice and I wanted to do what I could to fill her place. But I fearyou are not pleased with me."

  "My dear friend," I replied, "I beg your pardon for the abrupt mannerin which I received you. I thought Mona had suddenly recovered her voiceand was coming in the fullness of her joy to tell me about it, and youcan imagine my disappointment when I discovered my mistake. But now Iassure you I am glad to have your sympathy and delighted to know thatyou are to be near me. Please go on with the song which I so rudelyinterrupted, and let me hear your voice as often as possible. It isexceedingly fortunate for me to have you here while Mona is recovering.Will you stay till she can sing again, or do you think it is too selfishin me to make such a request?"

  Instead of answering me, Avis began to sing again, and in a twinklingI had forgotten my question and everything else in the enjoyment of themoment.

  I now wanted little to make me supremely happy. There was Mona herself,with her exquisite beauty and friendly manner, and there was Mona'svoice in the mouth of one who liked me enough to go half around theworld to entertain me. And, if the truth must be told, my heart inclinedmore and more toward the voice. This was a startling truth indeed whenit first fell upon me, and I fully determined that no one else shouldknow it. Mona should never discover that I loved her less because shecould not sing, and Avis should never know that her marvelous song wasbeginning to make the singer dear to me.

  Whenever I found myself alone I could think of nothing but thisperplexing subject. As I dwelt upon my situation, I told myself I mustbe careful, and avoid getting into trouble. Mona was becoming more andmore tender toward me every day, and now Avis had come, unconsciouslystorming the seat of my affections with Mona's own voice. I felt that Iwas in some danger of embarrassing myself before the rest of my friends,and it behooved me to simplify matters if possible.

  First, I must find out to a certainty just how I stood with Mona.Notwithstanding the admission which I had been forced to make to myself,I felt that it must be right for me to continue to devote myself toMona, even if my heart did not bound toward her as in the days of myexuberant love. I should indeed be unworthy of her to give her up now.When I considered my former depth of feeling, I fairly despised myselffor entertaining for a moment the possibility of her becoming less dearto me. But, for all that, I knew deep in my heart that the charm whichhad held me to her was gone, and I knew of no way to arrest and bringback my wandering affections.

  Still, it could not be right for me to let her know I was changing. Whatwould she think of me, and what opinion would Thorwald and Zenith have?I must own that the latter consideration had a good deal of force withme, for I did not want to lower myself and our whole race in their eyes.

  So I prepared the form of speech with which to address Mona again on theold subject. It seemed strange that she should begin to grow fond of mejust as soon as my love began to cool, and I determined with all my willnever to let her know the state of my heart.

  Not long after I had made this resolution, I was surprised to havethe doctor tell me he was sorry to see I was not so partial to Mona'ssociety since she had lost her voice. I do not remember what I said tohim in reply, but I know his remark set me thinking hard. Perhaps otherobservers had noticed the same thing and were too considerate of myfeelings to speak of it. Surely, I must have matters put upon a betterfooting at once.

  As for Mona, she was never happier in her life, if we could judge fromher actions. She had now learned to talk so well in her mute languagethat we all found conversation with her comparatively easy. Herfascinating manners made her interesting always, and in spite of hergreat loss she was still an important part of the life of the house.I argued to myself that my heart must be hard indeed if I could notcontinue to love her. To me her behavior was characterized by such apeculiar sweetness that I knew she was ready, on a word from me, torecall some of the harsh things she had said and to own a love quitedifferent in kind from her regard for others
.

  The opportunity soon came to speak to her, and I embraced it. "Mona," Isaid, "I want to make a little speech to you. First, let me ask you ifI can introduce a subject on which you have more than once stopped mymouth. Perhaps you know what I mean."

  "Oh, yes," she replied, "I remember it very well, and you may talk allyou please about it now. You must forgive me if I was unkind before andused my voice to vex you. But I am surprised to have you bring up thistopic."

  "Why?"

  "Because I thought from your manner that you did not love me as you usedto."

  By this time the speech that I had prepared was all out of my head,and I was wondering if it were possible that I had lost so much of myaffection for Mona that she had discovered it by a change in my manner.In reply to her remark I said:

  "But such a thought has not made you unhappy, Mona, if I may judge fromyour behavior. I have never seen you more cheerful and full of life."

  "No," she responded, "I think it has had the contrary effect. I wasrather relieved to find you were recovering from your foolishness, and Ithought we would now be able to live in peace, treating each other in akind and sensible manner. I am disappointed to find that you are stillclinging to the old idea, but I will not object to your saying all youplease on the subject, for I have my own reasons now for being graciousto you."

  "That's the very thing I want to ask you about, Mona. I have noticedyour great kindness of late, and have supposed it came from the factthat you were learning to love me in my way; that is, somewhat to theexclusion of others. Isn't it that?"

  "I think you will not be pained when I say you have had a wrongimpression."

  "Why do you think such a discovery will not pain me?"

  "Because I am sure you do not care for me now in the same way as before.It was my voice that inthralled you. In all this interview you have notonce said you love me, and you know at one time you could say nothingelse. But let me tell you why I have shown an extra tenderness towardyou recently. It was because I feared you would think I blamed youfor my misfortune. I wanted to let you know I had not the least unkindfeeling and that, in spite of the loss of my voice, I was as happy andcontented as ever."

  "Well, after all, you do love me a little, do you not, Mona?"

  "Why, of course I do, just as much as ever. And now let us go rightalong and be nice to each other. We will love each other and loveeverybody else just the same, and you must promise not to look disturbedany more when I am talking with Foedric; but you have been very goodabout that of late."

  "I will promise," I answered; "but what will you do if you find I amloving another person more than you?"

  "Oh, I cannot understand what you mean by loving more and loving less.It is a strange idea to me, and I hope I shall never get accustomed toit. My way is to love everybody with all my heart, and that's an end ofit. Don't you see in that way I escape all the worry and vexation whichyou seem to have in the matter? As to your loving another, you willpardon me if I say it will be a great relief to me for you to do so.I have not been used to being the sole recipient of any person'saffection, and I shall rejoice to be freed from the responsibility. Ifyou have thought me happy heretofore, you will now be astonished at mysprightliness. I suppose you refer to Antonia. She is a lovely girl,and--"

  "Allow me," I interrupted; but before I could go on with my denial thatvoice again fell on my ears--so distant and low that I held my breath tolisten. At first Mona did not hear it, but it soon increased in volume;and now, as the sweet sounds came pouring upon us, my companion saw howI was affected, and said in her sign language:

  "Oh, I was mistaken. Antonia is not the one."

  My heart was now all aflame, and, with Mona by my side and gazing intomy glowing face, I almost forgot her presence in the approach of onewhose song had such power. Was she old? Music like that is never old.Why should not my heart go out to her? She was still beautiful and notso old as I had supposed. And then, of course, people in that advancedcondition, did not wear out in a few years as they did on the earth. Asfor her size, she was rather small for a Martian, and I, living undernew conditions, would certainly take a start before many days, and nodoubt become as large as Foedric, almost.

  These ingenuous sentiments came to me with the sweet accents of thatmelodious song, and when Avis appeared I had great difficulty to keepfrom making some foolish exhibition of my feelings.

  At my next sober moment, that is, when I was by myself, and out ofhearing of that intoxicating music, it was very easy for me to realizemy ridiculous situation, but not so easy to tell how I was to escapefrom it. As to my relations with Mona herself, I was greatly relieved byour last conversation. I certainly need no longer feel obliged to tiemy vagrant heart to her. She would not miss it if it never once showeditself again, but how could I hope to preserve any sort of character inthe eyes of my other friends? What sport the doctor would make of meif he knew how I felt toward Avis. He little thought that this was thedaughter of Mars most likely to bring me to my knees.

  And the doctor would have good reason for whatever enjoyment he mighthave at my expense, for I felt at first that I did not deserve anysympathy. When away from the powerful influence of that voice I wasmyself, and could see everything in its true perspective, but it isdifficult to describe the change that came over me as soon as thoseentrancing notes fell upon my ear. The music sent great waves of emotionthrough my being, the storm center generally appearing to be the seat ofmy affections. My heart would beat fast, going out toward the singerin sympathy and love. The doubts of propriety belonging to my sanemoments--hesitation, argument, uncertainty--all went in a flash, and Iwas almost ready to throw myself before her and proclaim my love withoutshame or embarrassment. At such times I felt that I could hold my headup in view of all the inhabitants of Mars and prove to them that I wasnot fickle, but as steadfast as constancy itself in following always oneand the same attraction. Was I not as true to the best that was in me,when my heart was ravished by the voice of Avis, as I was when I hadloved Mona so tenderly for the same sweet charm?

  As day followed day in this delightful home, it was the society of Aviswhich I continually sought, and I was never quite happy except in herpresence, or, at least, within hearing distance of her voice. And it wasnot long before the constant association of Avis with the music Iloved so well began, even when I was not listening to her, to draw myaffections toward one who, at will, could exert such power over me.

  Mona was still herself, the same friendly, joyous creature as ever, butthe knowledge that I could never gain her undivided affection helped tocure my infatuation. And now, with my heart free, why should I not loveAvis? The mere fact that she was an inhabitant of Mars proved that shewas far too good for me, but I could see by the example of Foedric andAntonia that Avis would never, in consequence of her high development,have any scruples against loving one person more than others.

  When I had fully persuaded myself that I was perfectly consistent in mypresent course, I became quite anxious to know what others would thinkof me. But I was too much afraid of the doctor's criticism to confide mysecret to him. I must try one of the Martians, whose high breeding andtrue courtesy would not permit them to make light of one's feelings onso serious a subject.

  So it was to Zenith that I went for sympathy. She had been more thankind to me, and it is remarkable how easy and perfectly at home she mademe feel in her company.

  "Zenith," I began, "I want to consult you on a delicate subject, andI will first ask you a rather abrupt question. Will you give us yourpermission to take Avis back to the earth with us?"

  A Martian never loses self-possession and is never at a loss what to sayto the most unexpected proposition.

  "Well, that is abrupt," Zenith quickly responded. "Do you know, Thorwaldand I were talking only this morning about your apparent fondness forthe society of Avis. Are you forgetting Mona?"

  This was getting into the subject faster than I had intended, and Idetermined to take my time, so I said:

  "Zenit
h, this province must be the New England of Mars, by the way youevade my question and ask another."

  "But you wouldn't expect me to answer such a question offhand. Yousee, it contains several new ideas. First, I didn't know you thought ofreturning to the earth. Then I am surprised that you should want totake anybody with you. And, finally, I am more surprised that you shouldchoose Avis rather than Mona. Now that I have explained so fully, may Inot ask you again if this means that you are forgetting Mona?"

  "Mona is not able to sing for me," I said.

  "And do your ideas of what is right allow you to become indifferent toher as soon as she loses one of her attractions? Here her misfortunewould tend to make her only more dear to one who really loved her."

  To which I made haste to answer:

  "I am proud to tell you, Zenith, that such sentiments prevail on theearth, too, and I have been trying hard to hold them in my own breast.But in living with you I am learning to be honest, and it would not beright for me to deny that Mona's chief charm for me is gone from her,and is in the possession of another. The voice of Avis has the samepower over me that Mona's formerly had, and shall I fight against mygrowing fondness for Avis?"

  "Is your race so little developed, then," asked Zenith, "that your earsare the only avenue to your hearts?"

  Before I could answer, Mona herself came bounding into the room, andZenith continued:

  "There's the poor child now. How can you be so unkind to her?"

  "Who's unkind to me?" asked Mona in her sign language.

  "Zenith thinks I am," I answered.

  "Why, you are mistaken, Zenith; he is just the opposite. We have alwaysloved each other, and I think more of him than ever since I lost myvoice, and he has ceased making serious speeches to me that I can'tunderstand. I wish you could see how he enjoys hearing Avis sing."

  In this way Mona proved to Zenith that she was not heart-broken. I wasgoing to explain the matter myself, but was glad to have Mona take itout of my hands.

  The most difficult task yet remained. I must tell Avis how affairsstood; and yet, was it the proper thing for me to do? I wondered how thedelicate subject of making love was handled in Mars, where the two sexeswere perfectly equal. Which one was to make the advances? The matter issimple enough on the earth, where women are inferior and dependent. Ofcourse, they must smother their own feelings and wait to be discovered,while the men can make their selection, and if they do not succeed atfirst can simply try again. That is entirely proper, and everybody knowsjust what to do; but here things are probably different. I don't want tomake a failure in this case, as I did with Mona, not knowing the customsof the moon-dwellers. Perhaps my best way will be to try a littlecoquetry and pretend I do not care for her nor her singing. That maydraw her on to make some avowal to me.

  I had gone so far in my deliberations, when I was interrupted by thedoctor, who called to ask if I did not want to go out with him. Iconsented reluctantly, as I preferred to go on with my thinking till Icould come to some decision. But the doctor had a purpose in takingme out, and, as soon as a good opportunity presented itself, he said,inquiringly:

  "You find Avis a pretty good singer?"

  "Excellent."

  "And good company?"

  "Excellent company. Why?"

  "Oh, nothing; only I thought you were neglecting another friend."

  "Why, Mona doesn't care for me, and Avis does, or, at least, I think shedoes."

  "Do you mean by this," inquired the doctor, "that you have transferredto Avis the personal interest you had in Mona?"

  "Have you anything to say in disparagement of Avis?" I asked.

  "Certainly not. I have a high respect for her. But there is one otherplain question I would like to ask you, in view of your rather erraticbehavior."

  "Well, what is it? I'm dying to know."

  "It is this. What are you going to do with Margaret?"

  "Margaret? Oh, yes, I forgot about Margaret. That is something else Ihave got to think over."

  That night, as I was falling asleep, the same sweet, familiar music cameto me from a distant part of the house. Half-thinking and half-dreaming,I let my mind drift where it would. The sensation received through myears was so delicious and so satisfying that I wondered why I couldnot rest in it entirely and not think of the singer; but that wasimpossible. The notes penetrated from my brain down to the region ofmy heart. I thought of Margaret, but Margaret could not sing like that.Mona could not, now; no one but Avis. Oh, how I loved her for it! Iremembered how nice Margaret was, and how much I had once thought ofher; but as for loving her now, with this music of Mars in my ears, why,I simply couldn't try to do it. At last Margaret, Mona, Avis, all becamejumbled up in my chaotic mind, and I thought they were one superb woman,and I loved her. The conceit was worthy the colossal selfishness of adreamer. The essence of three worlds was mine. The earth, the moon, andMars had all given me their best. And she could sing. The thought wassoothing. I was asleep.