"
"I may not look on the face of a lady," said the father solemnly.
"Well, you have done it unawares, and so you may as well make the
best of it, as I think," answered Dalfin. "But, without jesting,
the poor lady is in sore need of shelter and hospitality, and I
think you cannot refuse that. Will you not take us to the
monastery?"
"Monastery, my son? There is none here."
"Why, then, whence come you? Are you weather bound here also?"
"Aye, by the storms of the world, my son. We are what men call
hermits."
Dalfin looked at me with a rueful face when he heard that. What a
hermit might be I did not at all know, and it meant nothing to me.
I was glad enough to think that there was a roof of any sort for
Gerda.
"Why, father," said my comrade, "you do not sleep on the bare
ground, surely?"
"Not at all, my son. There are six of us, and each has his cell."
"Cannot you find shelter for one shipwrecked lady? It will not be
for long, as we will go hence with the first chance. We have our
boats."
Now all this while the hermit had his eye on Dalfin's splendid
torque, and at last he spoke of it, hesitatingly.
"My son, it is not good for a man to show idle curiosity--but it is
no foolish question if I ask who you are that you wear the torque
of the O'Neills which was lost.
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