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. Was she an angel sent to warn him of
his peril, or an evil spirit clothed in beauty and holiness to lure him
on to it? He gave a great shout, and the harmonious voice, already
faint, grew still at once. He cried out again: "I am a stranger here,
and have lost my way; pray, help me."

Then once more through the mist came the young girl, this time without
her song, and stood before him; she was very beautiful, but with a pale
face and frightened eyes. "She is crazed, poor soul," thought Richard;
and he smiled upon her with genuine pity. She put her hand to her side,
as though in pain, or to repress some tumult of her heart.

"Where is it you wish to go, Sir?"

"To Gethin; where there is an inn, I believe. Is it not so?"

"Yes, Sir." Her words were sane and concise enough, but the tone in
which they were spoken was tremulous and alarmed.

"You are not afraid of me, are you?" said Richard, in the voice that he