At the end of another seven years, Breogan made a great dinner again. All was ready; a great crowd of people were present. The day being fine, you could see far in every direction.
“Look, now,” said Breogan, to one of his men who had very good eyesight. “Look out toward the water, to know can you see any one coming. Seven years ago to-day, I came home from Breasil, in the Land of the Young; and my son, if I have one, is to be here to-day. He ought to be coming by this time.”
The man looked out as well as he could. “I see a boat with one mast coming toward us,” said he; “and it’s sailing faster than any boat I have ever set eyes on. In the boat I can see only one young man; and very young he is too.”
“Oh, that is he,” said Breogan.
The boat came in at full sail; and it wasn’t long till the youth was standing before his father. “Who are you?” asked Breogan.
“My name is Shawn MacBreogan.”
“If that is your name, sit down here at dinner; for you are my son.”
When the feast was over, the people went home. When Breogan’s wife found out who the boy was, she wouldn’t give the breadth of a ha’penny piece of his body for a fortune, she was that fond of him.
Things went on well till one day when Breogan and his son were out hunting. The day being warm, they sat down to rest; and the son said to the father, “Since I came to you in Erin, you seem vexed in yourself. I have not asked what trouble is on you, or is there anything amiss with you.”
“All things are well with me but one thing,” said Breogan. “There is some understanding between my wife and a man in the north of Erin. I’m in dread of my life; for while I was in Breasil she saw this man, and the day I came home they were going to be married. Since then I have not slept soundly in bed; for messages are passing between them.”