In a more courteous tone the old man said, "While you are here you
are welcome to such cheer as we can give you. This cell is all my
dwelling, but since you have come to this island, enter and rest
you in peace."

Stooping low in the doorway, Estein entered the abode of Andreas
the hermit. Lit only by a small window and the gleam of a
driftwood fire, the rude apartment was dusky and dim; yet there
seemed nothing there that should make the sea-king pause at the
threshold. Was it but a smoke wreath that he saw, and did the wind
rise with a sudden gust out of the stillness of the evening? It
seemed to him a face that appeared and then vanished, and a far-
off voice that whispered a warning in his ear.

"Be not dismayed at our poverty; there is no worse foeman within,"
said Osla, with a touch of raillery, as he stood for a moment
irresolute.

Estein made no answer, but stepped quickly into the room. Had he
indeed heard a voice from beyond the grave, or was it but the
fancy of a wounded head? The impression lingered so vividly that
he stood in a reverie, and the words of his hosts fell unheeded on
his ears. He knew the face, he had heard the voice of old, but in
the kaleidoscope of memory he could see no name to fit them, no
incident wherewith they might be linked.

He was aroused by the voice of Osla.

"Let us give him food and drink quickly, father. He is faint, and