d that
the whole world knew.

Those desolate hills that rolled away like waves beneath the stars; the
whispering woods about them; the distant sea, eternally singing its own
note of sadness; the boulders at their feet; the very stars themselves,
listening in the heart of night--one and all were somehow aware that a
portion of the great Name which first called them into being was about to
issue from the sleep of ages once again into manifestation....Perhaps
to quicken them into vaster life, perhaps to change their forms, perhaps
to merge them all back into the depths of the original "word" of
creation ... with the roar of a dissolving universe....

Through everything, from the heart of the hidden primroses below the soil
to the center of the huge moors above, there ran some swift thrill of
life as the sounds of which they were the visible expression trembled in
sympathetic resonance with the opening vibrations of the great syllable.

Philip Skale had begun to utter. Alone in the cellar of that
tempest-stricken house, already aware probably that the upper notes of
his chord had failed him, he was at last in the act of calling upon the
Name that Rusheth through the Universe ... the syllable whose powers
should pass into his own being and make him as the gods....

And, first of all, to the infinite surprise of these two listening,
shaking lovers, the roaring thunders that had been battling all about
them, grew faint and small, and then dropped away into mere trickles of
sound, retreating swiftly down into the dark valley where the house
stood, as though immense and invisible leashes drew them irresistibly
back. One by one the Letters fled away, leaving only a murmur of
incredibly sweet echoes behind them in the hills, as the master-sound,
spoken by this fearless and audacious man, gathered them into their
appointed places in the cellar.

But if they expected stupendous things to follow they were at first
singularly disappointed. For, instead of woe and terror, instead of the
foundering of the visible universe, there fell about the listening world
a cloak of the most profound silence they had ever known, soft beyond
conception. The Name was not in the whirlwind. Out of the heart of that
deathly stillness it came--a small, sweet voice, that was undeniably the
voice of Philip Skale, its awful thunders all smoothed away. With it,
too, like a faint overtone, came the yet gentler music of another voice.
The bass and alto wer