She said no more at that time; but her word clave
to Birdalone’s heart, and for some time thereafter
she was sorely oppressed with a burden of fear, and
knew not how to hold herself before the witch-wife.
But the days wore, and nought betid, and the maiden’s
heart grew lighter, and still she wrought on at her
gown and her smock, and it was well-nigh done.
She had broidered the said gown with roses and lilies,
and a tall tree springing up from amidmost the hem
of the skirt, and a hart on either side thereof, face
to face of each other. And the smock she had
sewn daintily at the hems and the bosom with fair
knots and buds. It was now past the middle of
June, hot and bright weather.
CHAPTER VII. BIRDALONE HATH AN ADVENTURE IN THE WOOD
On a day she went to the wood, and sat down under
her oak-tree, and it was far and far out of sight
of anyone standing in the meadow by the lake; and
in the wood Birdalone looked to see nought at all save
the rabbits and squirrels, who were, forsooth, familiar
enough with her, and fearless, so that they would
come to her hand and sport with her when she hailed
them. Wherefore, as the day was exceeding hot,
she put off from her her simple raiment, that she might
feel all the pleasure of the cool shadow and what
air was stirring, and the kindness of the greensward
upon her very body. So she sat sewing, covered
but by a lap of the green gown which her needle was
painting.
But as she sat there intent on her work, and her head
bent over it, and it was now at the point of high
noon, she heard as if some creature were going anigh
to her; she heeded it not, deeming that it would be
but some wandering hind. But even therewith she
heard one say her name in a soft voice, and she leapt
up trembling, deeming at first that it would be the
witch come to fetch her: but yet more scared
she was, when she saw standing before her the shape
of a young woman as naked as herself, save that she
had an oak wreath round about her loins.
The new-comer, who was now close to her, smiled on
her, and said in a kind and sweet voice: Fear
nought, Birdalone, for I deem thou wilt find me a
friend, and it is not unlike that thou wilt need one
ere long. And furthermore, I will say it, said
she smiling, that since I am not afraid of thee, thou
needest not be afraid of me. Said Birdalone,
she also smiling: True it is that thou art nought
fearsome to look on. The new-comer laughed outright,
and said: Are we not well met then in the wildwood?
and we both as two children whom the earth loveth.
So play we at a game. At what game? said Birdalone.
Spake she of the oak-wreath: This; thou shalt
tell me what I am like in thine eyes first, because
thou wert afraid of me; and then when thou art done,
I will tell thee what thou seemest to me.
