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Updated: September 7, 2024
And in Nedda was so much of that night's unutterable youth no wonder she was silent! Then, somehow neither responsible they stood motionless. How quiet it was, but for a distant dog or two, and the stilly shivering-down of the water drops, and the far vibration of the million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and fresh! Then Nedda spoke: "Dad, I do so want to know everything."
And as he looked he loved; he pressed a hand to his eyes; for a while he thought it was as though he prayed. Evening came on the warm, dark, mysterious night. Off there in the shallows gradually arose the million-voiced chorus of frogs, shrill and monotonous, plaintive, appealing the cry of new life to the overarching, implacable mystery of the universe.
And what was this vast fluttering over his head, this million-voiced discord round him, like the buffetings and cries of spirits welcoming another to their torment? He raised his head and laughed in triumph. These were the cormorants, gulls, and gannets on the Perch Rock. Legions of birds circled over him with cries so shrill that at first he did not hear Carterette's voice calling up to him.
And what was this vast fluttering over his head, this million-voiced discord round him, like the buffetings and cries of spirits welcoming another to their torment? He raised his head and laughed in triumph. These were the cormorants, gulls, and gannets on the Perch Rock. Legions of birds circled over him with cries so shrill that at first he did not hear Carterette's voice calling up to him.
There the green things of the mountain, Million-voiced, newly-born, And the flowers of the valley In their beauty's crimson morn; There the winged winds of morning, Spirits unresting, touched with fire, And the streamlets, silver-throated, They whose leaping steps ne'er tire!
Now, when the real Charley Steele emerged again, the folds of mind and soul unrolling to the million-voiced creation and touched by the antenna of a various civilisation, the phantom Charley was gone once more into obscurity.
The two sat silent in the throbbing summer heat unconscious of the million-voiced music of the mosquitoes, unconscious of the roaring gale, the lashing and thrashing of the rain along the windows and the roof, the white glare of the lightning, the tumultuous booming and bellowing of the thunder; conscious of nothing but that prodigy, that uncanny apparition that had come and gone so suddenly that weird strange thing that was so soft-spoken and so gentle of manner and yet had shaken them up like an earthquake with the shock of its gruesome aspect.
Now, when the real Charley Steele emerged again, the folds of mind and soul unrolling to the million-voiced creation and touched by the antenna of a various civilisation, the phantom Charley was gone once more into obscurity.
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