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."
"I am Dalfin of Maghera, father. The torque has come back to me, for Dubhtach is avenged."
At that the hermit gave somewhat like a smothered shout, and his stately way fell from him altogether. He went on his knee before Dalfin, and seized his hand and kissed it again and again, crying words of welcome.
"My prince, my prince," he said, with tears of joy running down his cheeks. "It was told me that you had gone across the seas--but I did not know it was for this."
Dalfin reddened, and raised the hermit from the sand.