So magnificent had been the prospect that, when Richard descended and
pursued his trackless way again along the moor, he half doubted whether
that fair vision had not been a mere figment of his brain; the more so,
since what view there was about him seemed now to contract rather than
to expand; the horizon grew more limited; and presently nor sea, nor
land, nor even sky was to be seen. There was no rain, but his hair and
mustache were wet with a fog that was as thick as wool. By touch rather
than by sight he presently became aware that he had left the heath, and
was walking on down-land. Suppose he were nearing the verge of that line
of cliff's which he had just seen, and should come to it before he was
aware! As he paused, in some apprehension of this, all of a sudden a
song broke upon his ear, like a solemn chant:
"Keep us, O keep us, King of kings,
Under thine own almighty wings."
He did not recognize the words, but the tone in which they were sung,
though muffled by the dense atmosphere, struck him as especially sweet
and earnest. The next instant, walking rapidly, with a light and
graceful motion, the dim figure of a young girl passed in front of him,
and the mist closed behind her, though he still heard her pious psalm.
Richard stood like one enchanted.
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