For the Presence he had been aware of in the room from the moment of entrance became then suddenly almost concrete.  It came closer—­sheeted in wonder inscrutable.  The form and body of the sounds that filled the air pressed forward into partial visibility.  Spinrobin’s powers of interior sight, he dimly realized, increased at the same time.  Vast as a mountain, as a whole range of mountains; beautiful as a star, as a whole heaven of stars; yet simple as a flower of the field; and singing this little song of pure glory and joy that he felt was the inmost message of the chord—­this Presence in the room sought to push forward into objective reality.  And behind it, he knew, lay the stupendous urgency and drive of some power that held the entire universe in its pulses as easily as the ocean holds a shoal of minnows....

But the limits of realization for him were almost reached.  Spinrobin wanted to close his eyes, yet could not.  He was driven along with the wave of sound thus awakened and forced to see what was to be seen.  This time there was no bush behind which he could screen himself.  And there, dimly sketched out of the rhythmical vibrations of the seething violet obscurity, rose that looming Outline of wonder and majesty that clothed itself about them with a garment as of visible sound.  The Unknown, suggesting incredible dimensions, stood at his elbow, tremendously draped in these dim, voluminous folds of music and color—­very fearful, very seductive, yet so supremely simple at the same time that a little child could have understood without fear.

But only partially there, only partially revealed.  The ineffable glory was never quite told.  Spinrobin, amid all the torrent of words in which he sought later to describe the experience, could only falter out a single comprehensible sentence:  “I felt like stammering in intoxication over the first letter of a name I loved—­loved to the point of ecstasy—­to the point even of giving up my life for it.”

And meanwhile, breathless and shaking, he clung to Skale, still murmuring in his heart the magic syllable, but swept into some region of glory where pain and joy both ceased, where terror and delight merged into some perfectly simple form of love, and where he became in an instant of time an entirely new and emancipated Spinrobin, driving at full speed towards the ultimate sound and secret of the universe—­God.

* * * * *

He never remembered exactly how he got out of the room, but it always seemed as though he dropped with a crash from some enormous height.  The sounds ceased; the gongs died into silence; the violet faded; the quivering wax lay still....  Mr. Skale was moving beside him, and the next minute they were in the narrow vestibule between the doors, hanging up ordinary colored surplices upon ordinary iron nails.

Spinrobin stumbled.  Skale caught him.  They were in the corridor again—­cold, cheerless, full of December murk and shadows—­and the secretary was leaning against the clergyman’s shoulder breathless and trembling as though he had run a mile.