Angelica—That sounds well, and it may be so, yet it does not fully satisfy me. And there is something else!
Jean—More wonders?
Angelica—Yes; listen with heart and head; you know you promised.
Jean—I will keep my promise, dear love.
Angelica—You hear this roar?
Jean—Of course, the water in the Great River, you mean?
Angelica—Yes, Jean. (She draws nearer and speaks very low) Jean, I have heard another roar!
Jean—Then there I am with you. I have, too; in fact, I have heard many kinds of roars. The river has a very different sound from the Chain Tube and the Chain Tube from the conduit in the Rubble Corridor and each air-passage has a sound of its own. Of course you could not be expected to have learned this, but they are common facts known to all that study into the laws and systems of The Darker Realm in which we live.
Angelica—Yes, I, too, have ears and I know all the tones and voices of all the conduits that pass through this part of The Darker Realm. But this roar that I mean is different from them all. It is as different as your voice is from mine. It is more dim and fine than any common roar; yet there are many, many tones mingled in it—oh, more than you could ever count! And they are different kinds of sounds, yet all blending into one. O, it stands alone, it is quite unlike any other sound in all our galleries. And when I stand on the bridge by the door of the air-conduit, and drink in the good air that makes me feel strong and that mother says I must breathe all I can of because what she calls “everlasting spring” abides in it, then it is I hear it. But I do not always hear it even there. It has times and seasons. Sometimes it twines in with the roar in the air-conduit and sometimes not. I can now almost tell when it will begin and when it will end. But, Jean, the strange thing about it is this: when I go away from the sound of the water in the Great River, this roar grows more clear; in fact, the farther I go, the more plainly I hear this strange spirit-like, tumultuous, sound. Therefore, it cannot be the rushing of the water or of the air that causes it. It is something quite distinct and unaccounted for by anything in our Realm. You can say nothing to this!
Jean—(Sadly) Nothing, dear, except that I have not the fine sense that sees all this and therefore I cannot dream your dreams with you. But if you believe them and they make you happy, I am glad for you.