The old creature was docile enough this morning, and when Ralph patted her head, she seemed to know the hand that touched her.
She had crossed a range of mountains, and lived, no doubt, on the thin grass of the fells.

She must have famished quickly had the snow fallen before.
Ralph was profoundly agitated.

Never before had Sim seen him betray such deep emotion.

If the horse with its burden had been a supernatural presence, the effect of its appearance on Ralph had not been greater.

At first clutching the bridle, he looked like a man who was puzzled to decide whether, after all, this thing that had occurred were not rather a spectre that had wandered out of his dreams than a tangible reality, a blessed and gracious reality, a mercy for which he ought there and then to fling himself in gratitude on the ground, even though the snow drifted over him forever and made that act his last.
Then the tears that tenderer moments could not bring stood in his enraptured eyes.