Angelica—Yes.
Jean—When you, dear dreamer, are always dreaming?
Angelica—But what, then, was that beautiful creature that I saw above the open trap? Was she not one of the “saints immortal” mother sings about?
Jean—What was it? O, that was a vision, a something that passed across your eye-balls, a sort of defect in your sight.
Angelica—Ah, that will not do, you cannot explain it in that way, you cannot, you cannot!
Jean—Yes, this is how it is. Listen, dear! You know the shadows of the swinging lamp as they reflect on the water and then back on the glass above, make just such strange pictures. We have often watched them together. Don’t you remember, dear, once when—
Angelica—But the trap was open and above I saw a sheet of jewel like my ring when I hold it up to the candle, and at the side I saw a wall but clearer and brighter than any wall in all The Darker Realm. It fairly glistened. Tell me, have you never seen such a vision in all your life?
Jean—No, dear Angelica.
Angelica—Nor ever seen any opening above that seemed to lead out into a place far brighter and more beautiful than this?
Jean—No, dearest Angelica.