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Thus, the rustling of an Angel's wings got blended with the other

echoes, and they were not wholly of earth, but had in them that

breath of Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over a little

garden-tomb were mingled with them also, and both were audible to

Lucie, in a hushed murmur--like the breathing of a summer sea

asleep upon a sandy shore--as the little Lucie, comically

studious at the task of the morning, or dressing a doll at her

mother's footstool, chattered in the tongues of the Two Cities

that were blended in her life.

The Echoes rarely answered to the actual tread of Sydney Carton.

Some half-dozen times a year, at most, he claimed his privilege

of coming in uninvited, and would sit among them through the

evening, as he had once done often. He never came there heated

with wine. And one other thing regarding him was whispered in the

echoes, which has been whispered by all true echoes for ages and

ages.