"That's singular," I answered. "I should think you would understand my feeling from your own. But never mind. You and I will be lovers from this time forth, and give the people of Mars an example of devotion worth considering, will we not?"

"You do make the funniest speeches," she replied. "I don't know half the time what you mean. But I am getting tired of sitting so long. Here is Antonia. You talk to her about love, and I'll go over and see Foedric."

The lightness of her manner, when I was so deeply in earnest, gave me a feeling of uneasiness, which was increased when I saw her easy, familiar way with Foedric and heard her merry song as she chatted with him. I was not very pleasant company for Antonia, for I could not prevent a return of that dreadful jealousy. I wondered if this was always to be the history of my wooing--an hour of the supremest happiness, followed so speedily by a period of such anguish. I could not possibly talk on any other subject, and so I said to Antonia:

"They seem well pleased with each other's society. Are you not afraid Foedric will lose his heart to her?"

"My friend," she replied, "we never even think of such things as that. I hope you are not serious in asking the question."

"Forgive me, Antonia," I answered; "I hardly know what I am saying."

And then I rose and followed Mona, and said to her when I came near:

"Well, my dear, what do you and Foedric find so pleasant to talk about?"

"Why, you see," she replied, "Foedric was the first one to find me after you were hurt, and has been very kind to me since, and I have just been telling him I love him. You said it made you happy to hear me say it to you, and I wanted to make him happy too. And then I wanted to see if Foedric would make such funny speeches as you did."

I controlled myself enough to ask:

"And what did Foedric say?"

"Why, his answer made me laugh more than yours did. He said it would make you unhappy to know I had said such a thing to him. I replied that I would tell you myself, and that you were always happy when I said anything to you; and then you came up just in time."

"Now, Mona, do you think it is right to make sport of such a serious matter?"

"I a.s.sure you I am in earnest in all I have said."

"Then are you trying to deceive Foedric?"

"Deceive him? What is that?"

"Telling him what isn't true."

"No, indeed. I would never do that."

"It is true, then, that you love him?"

"Certainly it is; isn't it, Foedric?"

I did not wait for Foedric to answer, but continued:

"And still a short time ago you said you loved me."

"Well, is that any wonder, after what you have done for me?"

"But do you love us both at once?"

"I do."

"And do you love Foedric as much as you do me?"

"Certainly. Why shouldn't I? And now let me ask you a question. Do you love me?"

"With all my heart."

"Then why do you bother me so, asking all these questions, and saying things I don't understand? You appear to be surprised to find that I love Foedric. Why, I love everybody. What am I going to do, if I cannot love people as much as I want to?"

"You shall, Mona," I replied, with a sudden softening of my heart toward her. "I was only going to suggest that, if you love Foedric, Antonia may not like you so well."

Foedric began to protest that Antonia would not care, but Mona went right on with:

"Another complication. What possible difference could it make to Antonia?"

"Why, Antonia and Foedric love each other, you know."

"Oh, they love each other, and therefore no one else can love either of them. Is that it? But you have just been talking with Antonia. Don't you love her?"

"Oh, no," I replied hastily. "Or, at any rate, not in the same way that I love you."

"Not in the same way. That's another remark that I can't see any sense in. I must say for myself that I have but one way in which to love, and that is with my whole heart, without reserve or qualification. I cannot parcel out my love, a little to one, a little more to another, and so on. It all goes out to everyone. I couldn't be happy if I should try to restrain it. I think it must be like this delicious sunlight, which I am just beginning to enjoy, an equal comfort to all who choose to partake of it. I love you dearly. What can I do more? If I love others, I am not robbing you--take all you want, and then there will be just as much left."

"Mona," I asked, as she finished, "where did you get such a heart? You are showing me how utterly selfish I have been."

"Good-by," she exclaimed; "I am going back to Antonia. May I love her?"

"You may love everybody," I answered, as she left me with an exquisite note on her lips.

Foedric and I fell into conversation about her. Foedric praised her to the skies, saying that, if this were a fair specimen, the inhabitants of the moon must have been a remarkable people, and that it was unfortunate that they had so nearly pa.s.sed from the stage.

When I found opportunity to think over the situation I concluded that I had given my heart to a peculiar being, and what had I received in return? She loved me--that was certain. But what kind of love was this, which had no respect to persons? I knew I could claim no exclusive right to the least corner of her heart, and yet she said: "All my heart is yours. What more can you ask?" I was not able to solve the riddle of her mysterious nature, but as I heard her tuneful voice and watched her beautiful face as she talked with Antonia, the very picture of innocent happiness, I realized with great intensity that I loved her more than ever. And I resolved to be patient, and try to lead her gradually into the way of loving which prevailed on the earth at the time we left it.

In due time we landed on the ruddy planet, and there was great diversion for us all in seeing Mona's continued astonishment and in hearing her varied song.

It seemed almost like home to enter Thorwald's house again, where we found everything just as we had left it. The children did not exhibit any astonishment at our long absence, but were glad to see us back and eager to hear about our adventures.

The next morning after our arrival Thorwald gave us a long ride in an electric carriage to show Mona the country. Returning, we took her about the large house and were all delighted to hear her naive remarks. At length Zenith asked Thorwald if he could not think of something that would interest us all.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE PICTURE TELEGRAPH.

"Let us step into the music room," said Thorwald. "Doctor, what acquaintance have you with the telephone?"

"We think we have brought the telephone to a considerable degree of perfection," said the doctor. "At first it was rather crude, and many preferred to forego its use in order to escape its annoyances. But of recent years great improvements have been made, until its employment is now a pleasure, as well as an essential help in our business and social life."