and stood for a moment disconsolate, looking away from me.

All this while the atmosphere around me had been becoming lighter and
clearer, as though a mist were rising. Suddenly Amroth said, "You will
have to go with her for a time, and do what you can. I must leave you
for a little, but I shall not be far off; and if you need me, I shall be
at hand. But do not call for me unless you are quite sure you need me."
He gave me a hand-clasp and a smile, and was gone.

Then, looking about me, I saw at last that I was in a place. Lonely and
bare though it was, it seemed to me very beautiful. It was like a grassy
upland, with rocky heights to left and right. They were most delicate in
outline, those crags, like the crags in an old picture, with sharp,
smooth curves, like a fractured crystal. They seemed to be of a creamy
stone, and the shadows fell blue and distinct. Down below was a great
plain full of trees and waters, all very dim. A path, worn lightly in
the grass, lay at my feet, and I knew that we must descend it. The girl
with me--I will call her Cynthia--was gazing at it with delight. "Ah,"
she said, "I can see clearly now. This is something like a real place,
instead of mist and light. We can find people down here, no doubt; it
looks inhabited out there." She pointed with her hand, and it seemed to
me that I could see spires and towers and roofs, of a fine and airy
architecture, at the end of a long horn of water which lay very blue
among the woods of the plain. It puzzled me, because I had the sense
that it was all unreal, and, indeed, I soon perceived that it was the
girl's own thought that in some way affected mine. "Quick, let us go,"
she said; "what are we waiting for?"

The descent was easy and gradual. We came down, following the path, over
the hill-shoulders. A stream of clear water dripped among stones; it