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Updated: May 25, 2025
Skale that is something indeed," was all the little man could find to say. There was no reason he could point to why the words should have produced a sense of chill about his heart.
"Re-create the world, in fact!" gasped Spinrobin, feeling the earth he knew slipping away under his feet. Mr. Skale turned upon him and stood still a moment. The huge moors, glimmering pale and unreal beneath their snow, ran past them into the sky silent forms corresponding to who knows what pedal notes?
They continued the processes of prayer and fasting Skale had ordained as the time for the experiment drew near, and the careful vibratory utterance of the "word" belonging to each room, the vibrations of which threw their inner selves into a condition of safe or comparatively safe receptivity.
The wind came tearing up the valley and swept past them with a rush as of mighty wings. Mr. Skale drew attention to it. "And listen to that!" he said. "How it leaps, singing, from the woods in the valley up to those gaunt old cliffs yonder!" He pointed. His beard blew suddenly across his face.
And just after it he heard, unmistakably, the long soft stride of Skale going past his door and down the whole length of the corridor stealthily, very quickly, with the hurry of anxiety or alarm in his silence and his speed. This, moreover, had now happened twice, so that imagination seemed a far-fetched explanation.
Philip Skale as well as upon his own ankles. There he stood, face to face with the grotesque horror of familiar outlines gone wrong, the altered panorama of his known world moving about him in a strange riot of sound and form. It was, he understood, an amazing exhibition of the transforming power of sound of sound playing tricks with the impermanence and the illusion of Form.
And the moment he saw it there flashed across him the recognition that this was what Mr. Skale also possessed. That giant, athletic, vigorous man, and this bent, worn old woman both had it. He wondered with a rush of sudden joy what produced it; whether it might perhaps one day be his too. The flame of his own spirit leapt within him. And, so wondering, he turned to look at the clergyman.
The incoherence of all this traffic with sound and name had always bewildered him, even to the point of darkness, whereas now it did more, it appalled him in some sense that was monstrous and terrifying. Skale that he withdrew from the whole affair.
So that when, an hour later, pacified and sleepy, he rose to go to bed, this poetry seems to have left a very marked effect upon his mind mingled, naturally enough, with the thought of Mr. Skale.
He took his courage boldly in both hands and asked the question ever burning at the back of his mind. "Then, this great Experiment you we have in view," he stammered, "is to do with the correct uttering of the names of some of the great Forces, or Angels, and and the assimilating of their powers into ourselves ?" Skale rose up gigantically beside him.
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