Now was winter-tide upon them, when there was nought to do in field
and acre, and but a little in the byre. In years bygone, and even in
the last one, the witch had not spared Birdalone toil any the more,
but had made errands for her amidst the snow and biting winds, or
over the lake when it was laid with ice. But now she bade her to
nought save what she had a will to; whereby she lost but little,
whereas Birdalone was well willing to strive against wind and weather
and the roughness of the winter earth, and overcome if she might, so
that all were well done that had to be done about the stead.

Still did the witch give her hard words and rail at her for the most
part, but from the teeth outward only, and because she was wont
thereto. Inwardly indeed she began to fear Birdalone, and deemed
that she would one day have the mastery; and this led her into fierce
and restless moods; so that she would sit staring at the maiden's
beauty handling her knife withal, and scarce able to forbear her.
And in such a mood she once made occasion to chastise her as her wont
had been erst, and looked to see Birdalone rebel against her; but it
fell out otherwise, for Birdalone submitted herself to her meekly and
with a cheerful countenance. And this also was a terror to the
witch, who deemed, as indeed it was, that the purpose was growing in
her thrall. So from that time she meddled with her no more. All
this while, as may be thought, Birdalone went yet oftener to the Oak
of Tryst, despite frost and snow and wind, and gat much lore of her
wood-mother, and learned wisdom abundantly. And her days were happy.



CHAPTER XVIII. OF SPRING-TIDE AND THE MIND OF BIRDALONE