stronger than others. And I was able to think, too. It occurred to me that
perhaps Mona was merely a parrot, repeating, with no perception of their
meaning, words which she had so often heard from me. But this idea passed
swiftly away when I remembered the warmth of her expression and the ardor
of her manner, both of which, alas, she had also learned from me.

As I recovered somewhat from the effects of the blow I found Mona's eyes
were fixed on me, and she looked so innocent, so entirely unconscious of
wrong, that if I had any anger in my heart it melted away and left me more
her slave than ever. There was something in her behavior which I could not
comprehend, and it was evident that she had not yet acquired any
particular fondness for me, but these were not sufficient reasons to make
me cease to care for her. My love was too strong to give her up, even
after I had just heard her declare, in such a passionate way, her love for
another. These thoughts passed through my mind as she beamed upon me in
her radiant beauty, smiling as sweetly as ever, as if to encourage me
still to live and hope.

But how did the doctor receive this remarkable love-song? Like the
philosopher he was. Being astonished beyond measure at what he had heard,
he sat and pondered the subject for some minutes. What chiefly interested
him was not the personal element in Mona's words, which was so vital a
point to me, but the fact that she could make use of any words of our
language. The possibilities which this fact opened up to him were of the
greatest moment. If Mona could learn to talk freely she would be able to
give us much information that would be of great scientific value. After he
had pursued these thoughts a while it suddenly struck him that the
expression she had used was a singular one to begin with, and he turned to
me and laughingly said: