The Certainty of a Future Life in Mars: Being the Posthumous Papers of Bradford Torrey DoddGratacap, L. P. (Louis Pope)
Science
The Certainty of a Future Life in Mars: Being the Posthumous Papers of Bradford Torrey Dodd
Gratacap, L. P. (Louis Pope)
Mars (Planet) -- Fiction; Science fiction
"'How beautiful, how wonderful it is!' her arms dropped from her head,
the body bent forward to the earth, she knelt; 'but must it always be as
it is! Shall not the companion of my days come to this dear place? The
light of sun and moon and stars seems as it always seemed on Earth, but
there does not come to me the divine touch of affection, that intimate
feeling of oneness and self-surrender that was mine with Randolph on the
Earth. A strength unknown to me before, a power of enjoyment, a motion
that is ecstacy, thought, feeling, language, all strong, radiant,
supreme, but yet loneliness! Memory of the things of Earth hardly
remains, except where love prints its firm expression. Randolph, my
husband, and Bradford, my boy, to me are deathless. Why can it not be
that they should be here also? Can the purposes of divine love be
fulfilled by this separation? Shall all the powers of this new life,
this beautiful and sinless Nature be wasted for the want of love which
holds both Nature and the soul in place, in harmony, in adoration of the
One enduring Thought?
"'How the long years have rolled by since I have left the Earth, and
how, amid all the pleasurable things of this serene and hopeful life,
the hidden loneliness has denied it the last completing touch of joy!
Only as I still dare to believe, that the flight of years must end his
aging days on Earth, and that the eternal destiny of married souls is an
eternal union, and that his reincarnation here shall bring us into a new
and better, richer, deeper harmony of mind and tastes and thoughts; only
as the belief grows stronger with passing time, can I, so surrounded
with peace and happiness, in this countryside of quiet work and gentle
cares, bear longer this awful isolation, the nights of prayerful hope,
the days of still enduring hope.
"'How beautiful it is to live, to watch the changing seasons in this
strange new world untouched by sickness or death or sin. And yet,' she
convulsively clasped her face, 'what beauty, what peace, what
sinlessness can replace the only life--the Life of Love?
"'And then my boy! Can it be possible that I may see him! Why, now he
will seem only a brother in this new youth in which I have been born,
and yet--and yet--the mother feeling is unchanged; the old yearning,
just as when I left him a boy upon the Earth seems as great as ever.
"'Oh! when shall this waiting all end in our reunion--father, mother,
son--and all strong and glad in youth and hope?'
"She rose and stretched out her arms toward some phantasy of thought or
fancy in the air above her, and then a song of recall from a distance
floated along the meadow and the river's banks, a sweet, joyous,
beckoning melody, that compelled the ear to listen, and the feet to
follow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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