or, The Siiver Skates 135

the boys entered, a swell of sound rushed forth to meet them.
It seemed to bear them, one by one, into the shadows of the
building.

Louder and louder it grew, until it became like the din and
roar of some mighty tempest, or like the ocean surging upon
the shore. In the midst of the tumult, a tinkling bell was heard ;
another answered, then another, and the storm paused as if to
listen. The bells grew bolder: they rang out loud and clear.
Other deep-toned bells joined in: they were tolling in solemn
concert, — ding-dong, ding-dong! The storm broke forth
again with redoubled fury, gathering its distant thunder.
The boys looked at each other, but did not speak. It was
growing serious. What was that? Who screamed? What
screamed, —that terrible, musical scream? Was it man, or
demon? Or was it some monster, shut up behind that
carved brass frame, behind those great silver columns, —
some despairing monster, begging, screaming, for freedom?
It was the Vox Humana!

At last an answer came, — soft, tender, loving, like a mother’s
song. The storm grew silent. Hidden birds sprang forth,
filling the air with glad, ecstatic music, rising higher and higher,
until the last faint note was lost in the distance.

The Vox Humana was stilled; but, in the glorious hymn of
thanksgiving that now arose, one could almost hear the throb-
bing of a human heart. What did it mean? That man’s
imploring cry should in time be met with a deep content? That’
gratitude would give us freedom? To Peter and Ben, it seemed
that the angels were singing. Their eyes grew dim, and their
souls dizzy, with a strange joy. At last, as if borne upward
by invisible hands, they were floating away on the music, all
fatigue forgotten, and with no wish but to hear forever those