By this time they had nearly crossed the island, and Estein saw before them another long sound. On the far side of this lay a large and hilly island that stretched to his left hand as far as his eye could reach, and on the right broke down at the end of the strait into a precipitous headland, beyond which sparkled the open sea. In the middle of the sound a small green islet basked like a sea monster in the evening sunshine.
As they stood on the top of the descent that ran steeply to the sea, he cast his eyes around for any signs of life on sea or on shore. Below him, and much to the left, a cluster of small houses round a larger drinking-hall marked the residence of a chieftain of position; on the island across the water lay a few scattered farms; and on the little islet his eye could just discern a faint wreath of smoke. The seas were deserted, and the atmosphere seemed charged with an air of calm loneliness.
"That is my home," said Osla, pointing to the little green island.
"The early fathers called it the Holy Isle. Our house is an
anchorite's cell, and our lands, as you see, are of the smallest.
Are you content to come to such a place?"
Estein smiled. "If you dwell there, I am content," he said.
Osla tossed her head with what quite failed to be an air of impatience.
"Such things are easy to say now," she said. "If you say them again after you have lived on a hermit's fare for one whole day, I may begin to believe you."
They descended the hill, and in a little creek on the shore came upon a skiff.
"This is our long ship," said Osla. "If you wish to show your gratitude, you may assist me to launch her."
"Now," she said, when Estein had run the boat into the water, "you can rest while I row you across."
"It has never been my custom to let a girl row me," he replied, taking the oars.