There was feast enough before him for his eyes.

In front lay a great table-land, indented here and there with three chasm-like bays, which showed how high the cliffs were which they cut.  In one, nestled a fishing-town, with its harbor; in another, a low white range of cottages hung on the green hill-side; and in the third, at sea, as it appeared, stood up an ancient castle, huge and rugged.  This last object was of such enormous size that Richard rubbed his eyes like one in a dream.  He had heard of Cornish giants, and certainly here was a habitation fit for the king of them.  A lonely church upon the clifftop beyond it, by affording him some measure of the probable size of this edifice, increased his incredulity.  He looked again, and saw that it was not a castle, though the sun yet seemed to light up tower and battlement quite vividly, but only one isolated rock of vast size and picturesque proportions; upon the crown of which, however, there were certainly walls, and what looked to be broken towers.  “That must be Gethin,” said the young man, cheerily.  “I must be at the end of my journey.”  Unless, indeed, he should take ship, there was not much more opportunity for travel.  Before him stretched in all directions the limitless sea.

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.  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.