The wood-woman sat down, and let her head fall over her knees, and was silent a long while; then she rose up and stood before Birdalone, and said: Yea, we shall meet again, howsoever it may be. Let us depart with that sweet word in the air between us. Yet first thou shalt give me a tress of thine hair, as I did to thee when first we met; for by means of it may I know to-morrow how thou hast sped. 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. CHAPTER XX. OF BIRDALONE AND THE SENDING BOAT. 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.