"
"I know it," said the hermit, who, though unseen, had not, it seems,
been an inattentive observer of the events of the last two hours. A
light suddenly shot forth, enkindled as if by magic, showing the tall
gaunt form of the "Holy Hermit of the Rock." He was dressed in a long
grey garment of coarse woollen. It was said that he wore an iron corslet
next his skin, for mortification, it was thought by the vulgar; but
whether for this purpose, or for one of a more obvious nature, it would
perhaps be easy to surmise. A girdle of plaited horse-hair encompassed
his thin attenuated form. His head was uncovered; and he seemed to have
just risen from his couch, a board or shelf, raised only a few inches
from the rock on which it lay. His eye was wild, quick, and sparkling;
but his cheek was deadly pale, and his features collapsed and haggard in
their expression.
"I have dreamed a dream," said the visionary.
"And to what end?" inquired his visitor, seating himself with great
deliberation.
"Nay, 'twas not a dream," continued the hermit: "St Michael stood before
me this blessed night, arrayed as thou seest him portrayed in the glass
of his holy chapel above.
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