He came to himself with a start, the sweat standing on his
forehead. It was the second time he had heard the voice. Once
before it had warned him when he first entered the hermit's cell,
but now as then he could find neither name nor circumstance to fit
it.

All at once the prophecy of Atli came into his mind--"You will be
warned, but you will heed not," and in spite of himself a feeling
of gloom settled over his mind.

A herd of deer browsed unheeded on a distant slope, the hours
passed, and the sun sank low in the west, while he sat there
alone.

At last he rose and retraced his steps back to the shore. The tide
was running strongly, he had a long and stiff pull to win his way
across, and the summer dusk that never reaches darkness in the
north was gathering when he landed.

He looked round as though he expected to see a cloaked figure
start up out of the gloaming, but the island was deserted and
still. Before the cell he paused for an instant. "You will not
heed the warning," he repeated. "Yet what is fated must be," and
then he entered.

The hermit was alone. Farmer Margad had come for Osla, for his
wife was unwell, and the credulous people thought the daughter of
the wizard, as they deemed Father Andreas, might have some healing
influence. Estein sat down and took his supper; and all the time
he was eating, Andreas paced the floor saying nothing aloud, but