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Updated: June 21, 2025
I had thrown myself on the couch, and, as a miser jealously counts over his gold, fondling each precious bit with eager fingers, so I pondered on the happy hours spent with Zarlah, carefully reviewing each golden moment with its precious burden of Love's confessions. Suddenly I sprang to my feet a piercing, despairing cry of "Harold, my love, save me! save me!" was ringing in my ears.
We had approached a window and were looking at these new objects of interest, when Zarlah suddenly cried in dismay: "Look, Harold, look! The other aerenoid is moving!"
Explaining this to Zarlah, we hurried to the villa, and, as we ascended the steps to the balcony, I beheld a large high-speed aerenoid resting a short distance from mine. This, Zarlah begged me to take, explaining that by rising a few hundred feet above the elevation of small aerenoids, I could safely exceed the customary speed of local traffic.
The future held no fears for me now; enough that I had Zarlah, for the walls of the aerenoid that surrounded us seemed to compass the whole universe. "Ah, my love!" sighed Zarlah, bending over me and nervously clasping my hands in hers, "now that the danger is past and you are restored to me, the long hours of agony seem like a dream.
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!
Although my thoughts of Zarlah had been interrupted by the excitement incident to finding Reon at the observatory, I was soon absorbed once more in the subject ever foremost in my mind. With my head resting on my hands, I sat hour after hour, endeavoring to conceive some plan no matter how hazardous that would result in my being able to remain on Mars with Zarlah.
I stood at the levers, frozen rigid with the intense cold, but with my eyes ever on the flying object before me, while visions of my beloved one, now so close to death, passed rapidly through my fevered brain. As if Death had thus planned to torture me, before tearing my loved one from my very arms, I seemed to stand impersonally apart and watch two lovers Zarlah and myself.
The hopelessness of my love was plain, for it was Almos whom she loved, and she believed also that Almos had confessed his love to her; and, with a lover's conviction that everyone must love the one he loves, I felt that Almos undoubtedly loved Zarlah. Indeed, it was probably his affection for her through which I had silently won her confession.
With a start I turned and beheld Zarlah, and for a moment I stood as if gazing at an apparition. Realizing my bewilderment, she laid her hand gently upon my arm, and in a low voice, full of compassion, said: "It is Harold Lonsdale whom I love!" In a delirium of ecstasy I caught the small white hand and pressed it to my lips.
Zarlah, unable to obtain the repelling force necessary to carry her off Mars, was rushing toward the Repelling Pole to be hurled off the planet, risking all in the hope of being drawn to Earth, which was in opposition. It was a vain hope alas, I knew this too well. She was rushing to her death a death that I had lured her to, and my hands would be stained with the blood of my beloved.
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