The Rescue in the Whispering Gallery

           WhenIreturnedtopartiallifemyfacewaswetwithtears.HowlongthatstateofinsensibilityhadlastedIcannotsay.Ihadnomeansnowoftakingaccountoftime.Neverwassolitudeequaltothis,neverhadanylivingbeingbeensoutterlyforsaken.

           AftermyfallIhadlostagooddealofblood.Ifeltitflowingoverme.Ah!howhappyIshouldhavebeencouldIhavedied,andifdeathwerenotyettobegonethrough.Iwouldthinknolonger.Idroveawayeveryidea,and,conqueredbymygrief,Irolledmyselftothefootoftheoppositewall.

           AlreadyIwasfeelingtheapproachofanotherfaint,andwashopingforcompleteannihilation,whenaloudnoisereachedme.Itwaslikethedistantrumbleofcontinuousthunder,andIcouldhearitssoundingundulationsrollingfarawayintotheremoterecessesoftheabyss.

           Whencecouldthisnoiseproceed?ItmustbefromsomephenomenonproceedinginthegreatdepthsamidstwhichIlayhelpless.Wasitanexplosionofgas?Wasitthefallofsomemightypillaroftheglobe?

           Ilistenedstill.Iwantedtoknowifthenoisewouldberepeated.Aquarterofanhourpassedaway.Silencereignedinthisgallery.Icouldnotheareventhebeatingofmyheart.

           Suddenlymyear,restingbychanceagainstthewall,caught,orseemedtocatch,certainvague,indescribable,distant,articulatesounds,asofwords.

           "Thisisadelusion,"Ithought.

           Butitwasnot.Listeningmoreattentively,Iheardinrealityamurmuringofvoices.Butmyweaknesspreventedmefromunderstandingwhatthevoicessaid.Yetitwaslanguage,Iwassureofit.

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Roboto Lora
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