Then they all gathered around me, and called the others to a general rejoicing over my sudden recovery. My physical injury was but slight, and it was not long before my stupor was entirely gone and I was moving about again. Aside from the finding of Mona, many other things in this place of her abode interested the different members of our party. All were jubilant over the new opportunities for study and investigation, and they promised themselves the pleasure of many more visits to the place in the future. They had now seen enough for once, and all wanted to join in the agreeable task of escorting Mona to Mars and introducing her there. So, without more delay, we ascended to the surface once more, found our air ships in good order, and soon sailed away, leaving the moon without an inhabitant. Our friends from the antipodes landed with us, and remained some days before reembarking for home. During our voyage down there was a general agreement to give me plenty of opportunity to remain in Mona’s immediate company, though no one seemed to think we need feel at all embarrassed when our conversation was overheard by others. “Mona,” I said, “were you glad to see our relief party when they arrived?” “I was indeed,” she replied, “and yet I was as happy as a bird, living there all by myself and singing for my own amusement the whole day long.” “It is an astonishing thing to me,” I continued, “that after the doctor and I had left you so unceremoniously you could go back to your lonely home and be happy there.” “Why, did you think I would mourn for you?” “Well, yes, I think that would be natural, considering something I know.” “Oh, I should like to hear what you know.” “If I tell you, I shall have to make a confession.” “What is a confession, and how can you make one? Have you anything to make it of?” “Oh, yes,” I replied, laughing. “A confession is an acknowledgment that one has done something wrong, and should be made to the person to whom the wrong has been done.” “Well,” said Mona, “if that is it, I am sure I shall never have to make one, for I have never done anything wrong.” This agreed so well with my conception of her that I did not then take in the full meaning of her words, but said in reply: “But I have, and this is one thing when you were talking to Zenith about me and thought I was unconscious I was recovering, and lay quite still so as to hear what you said.” “And did I say anything to displease you?” “No, indeed; you said you loved me, and it made me very happy.” “Oh, I remember now. Zenith said she hoped I loved you, and I told her I did. I have always loved you, of course, but I don’t see how that can make you happy.” “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?”