the sunrise, and bore the garden sweetness down to her; and warm it
was after the chill of the wide water. No other land could she see
when she looked lakeward thence.

She stepped ashore, and stood ankle-deep in the sweet grass, and
looked about her for a while, and saw no shape of man astir. She was
yet weary, and stiff with abiding so long amongst the hard ribs of
the boat, so she laid herself down on the grass, and its softness
solaced her; and presently she fell asleep again.



CHAPTER II. BIRDALONE FALLETH IN WITH NEW FRIENDS



When she next awoke, the sun was not yet high, and the morning young,
yet she stood upon her feet much refreshed by that short slumber.
She turned toward the hill and the gay house, and saw one coming over
the meadow to her, a woman to wit, in a shining golden gown, and as
she drew nigh Birdalone could see that she was young and fair, tall,
white-skinned and hazel-eyed, with long red hair dancing all about
her as she tripped lightly and merrily over the greensward.

Now she comes up to Birdalone with wonder in her eyes, and greets her
kindly, and asked her of her name, and Birdalone told it all simply;
and the new-comer said: What errand hast thou hither, that thou art
come thus naked and alone in this ill-omened ferry? Birdalone
trembled at her words, though she spake kindly to her, and she said:
It is a long story, but fate drave me thereto, and misery, and I knew