"O bitter grief," Molios cried, "O bitter grief, that I did not slay thee utterly on that day of the days! Flame to thy flesh, and a stake through thy belly--that is the doom thou shouldst have had! My ban upon thee, Cathal, that was a monk, and now art a wild man of the woods: upon thee, and thy Annir-Coille, and all thy brood, I put the ban of fear and dread and sorrow, a curse by day and a curse by night!" But with that a great dizziness swam into the brain of the saint, and he fell forward, and lay his length upon the moss, and there was no sight to his eyes, or hearing to his ears, or knowledge upon him at all until the rising of the sun. When the yellow light was upon his face he rose. There was no face to see anywhere. Looking in the dew for the myriad feet that had been there, he saw none. The old man knelt and prayed. At the first praying God filled his heart with peace. At the second praying God filled his heart with wonder. At the third praying God whispered mysteriously, and he knew. Humble in his new knowledge, he rose. The tears were in his old eyes. He went up to the Hollow Oak, and blessed it, and the wild man that slept within it, and the Annir-Coille that Cathal loved, and the offspring of their love. He took the curse away, and he blessed all that God had made. All the long weary way to the shore he went as one in a dream. Wonder and mystery were in his eyes. At the shore he entered the little coracle that brought him daily from the Holy Isle, a triple arrow-flight seaward. A child sat in it, playing with pebbles. It was Ardan, the son of Ardanna. "Ardan mac Cathal," began the saint, weary now, but glad with a strange new gladness. "Who is Cathal?" said the boy. "He that was thy father. Tell me, Ardan, hast thou ever seen aught moving in the woods--green lives out of the trees?" "I have seen a green shine come out of the trees." Molios bowed his head. "Thou shalt be as my son, Ardan; and when thou art a man thou shalt choose thy own way, and let no man hinder thee." That night Molios could not sleep. Hearing the loud wash of the sea, he went to the mouth of the cave. For a long while he watched the seals splashing in the silver radiance of the moonshine. Then he called them. "O seals of the sea, come hither!" At that all the furred swimmers drew near. "Is it for the curse you give us every year of the years, O holy Molios?" moaned a great black seal. "O Ròn dubh, it is no curse I have for thee or thine, but a blessing, and peace. I have learned a wonder of God, because of an Annir-Coille in the forest that is upon the hill. But now I will be telling you the white story of Christ." So there, in the moonshine, with the flowing tide stealing from his feet to his knees, the old saint preached the gospel of love. The seals crouched upon the rocks, with their great brown eyes filled with glad tears.