Even so did Birdalone, and this was the end of their
talk, save broken words of lamentation as they said
farewell. And therewith for that while they
sundered.
Birdalone woke up in the morning, and arose and clad
herself, and she saw not the witch-wife in the chamber,
though her bed looked as if it had been slept in.
Birdalone accounted little thereof, whereas the dame
would oft go on one errand or another much betimes
in the morning. Yet was she somewhat glad, for
she was nowise wishful for a wrangle with her.
Withal, despite her valiancy, as may well be thought,
she was all a-flutter with hopes and fears, and must
needs refrain her body from overmuch quaking and restlessness
if she might.
Now she mingled the tress of the wood-mother’s
hair with her own hair, but deemed it nought perilous
to leave the ring yet sewn to her smock: she
set some deal of bread and flesh in her scrip, lest
her voyage should be long, and then all simply stepped
over the threshold of the House of her Captivity.
She went straight to the strand aforesaid, seeing
nought of the witch-wife by the way; and when she
came there, was about to turn straightway to her left
hand down to the creek, when it came into her mind
that she would first swim over to Green Eyot for this
last of times. For the eyot indeed she loved,
and deemed it her own, since never had her evil dream,
the witch, set foot thereon. Moreover, she said
to herself that the cool lake would allay the fever
of her blood, and make her flesh firmer and less timorous
for the adventure. And again, that if the witch
should see her from afar, as she could scarce fail
to do, she would deem the maiden was about her wonted
morning swimming, and would be the less like to spy
on her.
So now, when she had let her garments slip from off
her on to the sand close to the water’s edge,
she stood a while, with her feet scarce covered by
the little ripple of the bight, to be a token of safety
to her mistress. To say sooth, now it was come
so nigh to the deed, she shrank aback a little, and
was fain to dally with the time, and, if it might
be, thrust something of no import betwixt her and
the terror of the last moment.
Now she took the water, and rowed strongly with her
lovely limbs till she came to the eyot, and there
she went aland, and visited every place which had
been kind to her; and kissed the trees and flowers
that had solaced her, and once more drew the birds
and rabbits to sport with her; till suddenly it came
into her head that the time was wearing overfast.
Then she ran down to the water and plunged in, and
swam over to the strand as fast as she might, and came
aland there, thinking of nothing less than what had
befallen.
For lo! when she looked around for her raiment and
her scrip, it was nowhere to be seen; straightway
then it came into her mind, as in one flash, that
this was the witch’s work; that she had divined
this deed of the flight, and had watched her, and
taken the occasion of her nakedness and absence that
she might draw her back to the House of Captivity.
And this the more as the precious ring was sewn to
Birdalone’s smock, and the witch would have found
it there when she handled the raiment.
