[Pg 13]

But she walked steadily away from the great driveway, deeper and deeper into the wood.

"In a moment I will stop and think this out—in a moment," she murmured, but she did not stop; she ran like a hunted animal, farther and farther.

The wood was utterly quiet. Sometimes a little furry beast slipped across the narrow path she ran along, sometimes a large bird flapped heavily into the air ahead of her; but no person walked or called.

Soon a great fatigue seized her, and hunger. She moved languidly; her legs seemed to walk of themselves.

"I must eat—I must rest," she moaned, "but why did they not speak to me?"

At last she realized that she could drag herself no farther, that she was alone and lost, fearful and worn out, in a dense wood.

"I will get to that little path," she said,[Pg 14] trembling, "and there I will drop, and if I must think, I must."

[Pg 14]

She staggered up the little path, and it lead to a tiny hut, the colour of the four great trees that stood about it. Its door hung wide open, and in the middle of it, on a low stool, there sat an old woman, wrapped in a long cloak, looking kindly at her.

She threw herself across the threshold and fell upon the earthen floor.

"Oh, will you speak to me? Will you see me? Pray, pray answer me!" she cried.

"And why should I not see you, my child?" said the old woman.

She gasped with joy.

"I don't know—I thought—the coachman slammed the door—I don't know what I thought! It was terrible!" she panted.

"I know, I know," said the old woman; "but you are here now. You can rest now. It took you a long time, you are so strong. Look, I have a bed for you!"

[Pg 15]She looked, and in the corner of the hut was a couch of pine boughs, odorous and soft.

[Pg 15]

"You may lie on my cloak," said the old woman, and spread it on the springy couch. She dropped on it.

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