f years. The Earth, you know, is to the people on Mars a
most brilliant object. It is the most glorious object in their sky, a
star of the first magnitude. Oh, be sure their astronomers are watching
us with all interest!"

And Corbett, dazed, replied that he was overwhelmed with so much
learning in one so fair, that he was very proud of her, but that there
was one subject on his mind, compared to which communication with Mars
or any other planet was but a trifle. And he wanted to talk with her
concerning what was closest to his heart. It was the one great question
in the world to him. It was, when should be their wedding day?

The girl looked at him blushingly, then paled. "Let us not talk of that
to-day," she said, at length. "I know it isn't right; I know that I seem
unkind--but--oh, Julius! come to-morrow and we will talk about it." And
she began crying.

He could not understand. Her demeanor was all incomprehensible to him,
but he tried to soothe her, and told her she had been studying too hard
and that her nerves were not right. She brightened a little, but was
still distrait. He left, with something in his heart like a vengeful
feeling toward the planets, and toward Mars in particular.

When Corbett returned next day the girl was in the library awaiting him.
Her demeanor did not relieve him. He feared something indefinable. She
was sad and perplexed of countenance, but more self-possessed than on
the day before. She spoke softly: "Now we will talk of what you wished
to yesterday."

He pleaded as a lover will, pleaded for an early day, and gave a hundred
reasons why it should be so, and she listened to him, not apathetically,
but almost sadly. When he concluded, she said, very quietly:

"Did you ever read that queer story by Edmond About called 'The Man with
the Broken Ear'?"

He answered, wonderingly, in the affirmative.

"Well, dear" she said, "do you remember how absorbed, so that it was a
very part of her being, the heroine of that story became in the problem
of reviving the splendid mummy? She forgot everything in that, and could
not think of marriage until the test was made and its sequel
satisfactory. She was not faithless; she was simply helpless under an
irresistible influence. I'm afraid, love"--and here the tears came into
her eyes--"that I'm like that heroine. I care for you, but I can think
only of the people in Mars. Help me. You are rich. You have a million
dollars, and will soon have more.