Chapter X: Miela's Story

When I reached the little Florida town Alan was there to meet me. He would have none of my eager questions, but took me at once by launch to their bungalow. No one was on the porch when we landed, and we went immediately into the living room. There I found Beth and Professor Newland talking to this extraordinary girl from another world, of whose existence, up to that moment, I had been in complete ignorance. She was dressed especially for my coming, they told me afterward, exactly as she had been that morning when Alan found her. They wanted to confound me, and they succeeded.

I stood staring in amazement while Beth quietly introduced me. And Miela spread her wings, curtsied, and replied in a quaint, soft little voice: “I am honored, sir.” Then she laughed prettily and, extending her hand, added: “How do you do, Bob--my friend?”

When I had partially recovered from my astonishment Miela put on the big blue-cloth cape she wore constantly to cover her wings. Then Alan and Beth plunged into an excited explanation of how he had found Miela, and how all this time she had remained in seclusion with them there studying their language.

“You never have seen such assiduous young people,” Professor Newland put in. “And certainly she has been a wonderful pupil.”

He patted Miela’s hand affectionately; but I noticed then that his eyes were very sad, as though from some unvoiced trouble or apprehension.

They had decided, the professor said, to keep the girl’s presence a secret from the world until they had learned from her in detail what her mission was. The vehicle in which she had come was still on the island up the bayou. Alan had stationed there three young men of Bay Head whom he could trust. They were living on the island, guarding it.

During these two months while Miela, with uncanny rapidity, was mastering their language, the Newlands had of course learned from her all she had to tell them. The situation in Wyoming did not necessitate haste on their part, and so they had waited. And now, with a decision reached, they sent for me.

That evening after supper we all went out on the bungalow porch, and Miela told me her story. She spoke quietly, with her hands clasped nervously in her lap. At times in her narrative her eyes shone with the eager, earnest sincerity of her words; at others they grew big and troubled as she spoke of the problems that were harassing her world and mine--the inevitable self-struggles of humanity, whatever its environment, itself its own worst enemy.

“I am daughter of Lua,” Miela began slowly, “of the Great City in the Country of Light. My mother, Lua, is a teacher of the people. My father, Thaal, died when still I was a child. I--I came to your earth--”

She paused and, turning to Beth, added appealingly: “Oh, there is so much--to begin--how can I tell--”

“Tell him about Tao,” Beth said.

“Tao!” I exclaimed.

“He leads those who came to your earth in the north,” Miela went on. “He was my”--she looked to Alan for the word--”my suitor there in the Great City. He wished me for his wife--for the mother of his children. But that--that was not what I wished.”

“You’d better tell him about conditions in your world first, Miela,” said Alan. He spoke very gently, tenderly.

I had already seen, during supper, how he felt toward her; I could readily understand it, too, for, next to Beth, she seemed the most adorable woman I had ever met. There was nothing unusually strange about her, when her wings were covered, except her quaint accent and sometimes curious gestures; and no one could be with her long without feeling the sweet gentleness of her nature and loving her for it.

“Tell him about your women,” Beth added.

I noticed the affectionate regard she also seemed to have for Miela; and I noticed, too, that there was in her face that vague look of sorrow that was in her father’s.

The habitable world of Mercury, Miela then went on to tell me, was divided into three zones--light, twilight and darkness. There was no direct sunlight in the Light Country--only a diffused daylight like the light on our earth when the sky is clouded over. The people of the Light Country, Miela’s people, were the most civilized and the ruling race.

In the twilight zone around them, grading back to the Dark Country, various other peoples dwelt, and occasionally warred with their neighbors for possession of land in the light.

In the center of the Light Country, directly underneath the sun--that is, where the sun, would always appear near the zenith--was the Fire Country. Here, owing to violent storms, the atmospheric envelope of the planet was frequently disturbed sufficiently to allow passage for the sun’s direct rays. Then would ensue in that locality, for a limited time, a heat so intense as to destroy life. This Fire Country was practically uninhabited.

“You see, Bob,” Alan interrupted, “the dark part of Mercury--that is the side that continually faces away from the sun--is also practically uninhabited. Only strange animals and savages live there. And the twilight zones, and the ring of Light Country, with the exception of its center, are too densely populated. This has caused an immense amount of trouble. The Twilight People are an inferior race. They have tried to mix with those of the Light Country. It doesn’t work. There’s been trouble for generations; trouble over the women, for one thing. Anyhow, the Twilight People have been kept out as much as possible. Now this fellow Tao--”

“Let Miela explain about the women first,” Beth interjected.

Then Miela went on to tell me that only the females of Mercury had wings--given them by the Creator as a protection against the pursuit of the male. At marriage, to insure submission to the will of her husband, a woman’s wings were clipped. For more than a generation now there had been a growing rebellion on the part of the women against this practice. In this movement Miela’s mother, Lua, was a leader. To overcome this masculine desire for physical superiority and dominance which he had had for centuries seemed practically impossible. Yet, Miela said, the leaders of the women now felt that some progress was being made in changing public sentiment, although so far not a single man had been found who would take for mate a woman with wings unclipped.