“‘Yes,’ he answered, and tears seemed filling his eyes, ’we will go.  We will walk out into the hill and river country beyond the canal.  Many are wandering over the country now.  The farmers will harbor us and the beauty of the lanes will bring us cheerfulness.’

“And so we went away, hastening with the Martian velocity of motion until as the sun hung in the zenith, we had reached a hillside sloping upon a meadow space through which passed the clear but sluggish waters of a wide stream.  A tulip-like grass was distributed in the heavy luxuriant growth of the meadow, which bore upon pendant threads a blue bell-like flower.  A gentle wind, rising and falling, swept over them, lifting and blowing out the cups as it passed off to the surface of the water and printed it with plashes of ripples.  A piece of wood pushed out from the hillside, the trees that formed it struggling out into the meadow in a broken succession of individuals like a line of men.  Here, leaning against the last tree trunk that stood quite alone in advance of its companions, was a young woman, her arms folded above the cap—­like the Grecian cassos—­that imperfectly held her hair, and dressed in a yellow tunic and the half seen leggings of meshed chalcal thread—­a lovely picture of meditation.

“I caught Alca’s arm in a sudden wave of desire and excitement.  It was the impulse of love, the first burning of its sacred fire I had known in Mars, and it was the intense certainty of recognition that made it so impetuous.  My Son, your Mother was before me!

“The same glorious beauty I had known on earth covered her, and like a mystic light shone from her face and person.  I was myself again, young, and she was the same.  The impelling sense of a superhuman Destiny bringing us together again in this new world, forced from me an ejaculation of thankfulness.  The cry was not loud, but audible to her ears, and she turned toward us.  Yes! it was Martha, as I knew her in those raptured days of love on the banks of the Hudson before disease and weakness and age had stolen the bloom from her cheeks, the light from her eyes, and the fair presentiment of charm and perfection from her body.  She did not see me perhaps clearly.  Certainly she did not recognize me.  An instant’s scrutiny and her face turned again to the open exposure of hill and field, stream and cloud-flecked sky.

“Alca had observed my gestures of delight, and, perhaps reading my thoughts by that intuition of mind so wonderful in the Martians, pushed me toward her gently and moved away from us toward the brink of the river.

“I stood for a moment hesitating, overwhelmed with the marvel of this new thing.  I stole on, and finally pushing aside the high grown grass, was at her side—­at the side of the very form and feature of the woman who had taught me on earth the worth of living and the meaning and the glory of rectitude.

“She was breathing fast, her bosom rising and falling with quick respirations, and her cheeks flushed with color, made a delicious foil to the pearly tone of her face, concealed on her neck and forehead by the escaping tresses of her dark hair.