ther,
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 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 throbbing 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 beautiful sounds, when suddenly
Van Holp's sleeve was pulled impatiently and a gruff voice beside him
asked, "How long are you going to stay here, captain, blinking at the
ceiling like a sick rabbit? It's high time we started."

"Hush!" whispered Peter, only half aroused.

"Come, man! Let's go," said Carl, giving the sleeve a second pull.

Peter turned reluctantly. He would not detain the boys against their
will. All but Ben were casting rather reproachful glances upon him.

"Well, boys," he whispered, "we will go. Softly now."

"That's the greatest thing I've seen or heard since I've bee in
Holland!" cried Ben enthusiastically, as soon as they reached the open
air. "It's glorious!"

Ludwig and Carl laughed slyly at the English boy's wartaal, or
gibberish. Jacob yawned, and Peter gave Ben a look that made him
instantly feel that he and Peter were not so very different after all,
though one hailed from Holland and the other from England. And Lambert,
the interpreter, responded with a brisk "You may well say so. I believe
there are one or two organs nowa