of spray from the breakers
on the rocks came in with my host, who set a great armful of drift
wood on the floor, closed it, and so turned to me.

"Good morrow, my son," he said. "How fare you after rest?"

"Well as can be, father," I answered, sitting up. "Stiff I am, and
maybe somewhat black and blue, but that is all. I have no hurt. But
surely I have slept long?"

"A matter of ten hours, my son, and that without stirring. You
needed it sorely, so I let you be. Now it is time for food, but
first you shall have a bath, and that will do wonders with the
soreness."

Thankful enough was I of the great tub of hot water he had ready
for me, and after it and a good meal I was a new man. My host said
nought till I had finished, and then it was I who broke the silence
between us.

"Father," I said, "I have much to thank you for. What may I call
you?"

"They name me Govan the Hermit, my son."

"I do not know how to say all I would, Father Govan," I went on,
"but I was in a sore strait last night, and but for your bell I
think I must have perished in the snow, or in some of the clefts of
these cliffs."

"I rang the bell for you, my son, though I knew not why. It came on
me that one was listening for some sign of help in the storm."

"How could you know?" I asked in wonder.

Govan shook his head.

"I cannot tell. Men who bide alone as I bide have strange bodings
in their solitude. I have known the like come over me before, and
it has ever been a true warning."

Now it was my turn to be silent, for all this was beyond me. I had
heard of hermits before, but had never seen one. If all were like
this old man, too much has not been said of their holiness and
nearness to unseen things.

So for a little while we sat and looked into the fire, each on a
three-legged stool, opposite one another. Then at last he asked,
almost shyly, and as if he deemed himself overbold, how it was that
I had come to be on the cliffs. That meant in the end that he heard
all my story, of course, but my Welsh halted somewhat for want of
use, and it was troublesome to tell it. However, he heard me with
something more than patience, and when I ended he said:

"Now I know how it is that a Saxon speaks the tongue of Cornwall
here in Dyfed. You have had a noble fostering, Thane, for even here
we lamented for the loss of Owen the prince. We have seen him in
Pembroke in past years. You will be most welcome there with this
news, for Howel, our pri