But I'm not a good actress."

She faltered over the rest--a commonplace story of engagements, of
failures, until she found herself touring the West with a wretched
theatrical troupe. "We were booked for a little town off there beyond
your woods, and the train was stalled in a snowstorm. We got on a
stage-coach, but it got stuck in a drift on one of those dreadful
roads. I was freezing cold, and I thought I'd make a short cut through
the woods. The road was running along the edge of a big forest of
pines. I cut off while they were all working to dig out the horses.

"Mr. Snaring said, 'Look out for the bears!' and I laughed and ran
up what looked like a snow-buried trail. There was a hard crust. The
woods were all glittering and so beautiful. I ran into them, laughing.
I was so glad to get away by myself from those people into the woods
where it was so silent and sort of solemn--like being in a church
again. I can't think how I got so lost. I meant to come round back
to the road, but before I knew it, I didn't know which way the road
was. The pines were so dense, so all alike, they looked almost as
if they kept sort of shifting about me. I tried to follow back on
my footprints, but in some places snow had shaken down from the
branches. And there were so many--so dreadfully many other tracks--of
animals--" She put her hands over her face and shrank down in her
chair.

"Forget about them, Sylvie," Hugh admonished gently. "Even if there
had been bears about, they wouldn't likely have bothered you any."

"I can't bring myself to tell you about that time--I can't!"