"But, dearest," I argued, tenderly smoothing back the soft brown hair, and striving to cheer her, "we are now commencing on an era of planet communication, and it may not be long before a means is discovered of actually transferring people from one planet to another. Did not explorers, some years ago, have this in mind, when they attempted to reach the nearest moon? And even though they failed to reach their goal, who knows that they were not drawn to some planet that was in opposition at that time, and are now prepared for a return journey at the next opposition? With the complete absence of resistance there is in space, their speed would become terrific--thousands of miles a minute--and at such a rate it would be possible to reach a planet in opposition, long before their month's supply of oxygen became exhausted. Heat would not be generated as there would be no friction until the planet's atmosphere was reached, but long before this they would have applied their repelling force, which would reduce their speed, thus enabling them to sail gently through the atmosphere and alight safely on the planet's surface." Although I had not as much confidence in such an achievement as I sought to inspire (well knowing the vast difference between a spiritual transfer and a material one over such a tremendous distance), I wished, above all, to cheer Zarlah. Indeed, I feared that grief might bring the most serious consequences on Mars. I was greatly relieved, therefore, upon observing her countenance light up with a sudden interest, as I expressed these sanguine predictions as to the future. It was not until some hours later, when I was alone, that this incident caused me much anxiety, as I remembered that, in spite of the keen interest Zarlah had evinced, she had carefully avoided any allusion to the subject afterwards. But in the subsequent events of the evening this escaped my notice, and, glad to observe the soothing effect my words had upon her, I did not pursue the thought further. We had descended by a flight of stone steps to the water's edge, and, as we stepped upon the narrow strip of pebbly beach, walled in by cavernous rocks, Zarlah, with great earnestness, exclaimed: "You are right, dear Harold, we must be hopeful, and not waste the few precious moments we have together in regrets that are useless. We shall always love each other, and if we are brave--even unto death--Love will find a way!" Poor Zarlah! Little did I imagine the desperate plan that was already forming in her mind when she uttered these words, that before the close of another day would indeed have proved her "brave even unto death." Drawing closer to me and turning her beautiful face up to mine, she said, after a pause, in which she seemed to read my very soul: "Before me lies a duty, Harold, which with you at my side I have the strength to perform, but without you the sacrifice is too great." "What is it, dearest?" I asked, pressing the little hand I held to my lips.