“But, Madam!” she protested. “You will need them!”

“I need them?” Madam laughed again. “Did I not tell you? But no. I have not told. We are rich, Ivan and I. Ivan’s uncle died. He left all to Ivan. That is why we went away so fast. That is why we never came back.

“Tomorrow,” her tone changed, “I shall go back to Ivan. He is not strong, Ivan. He could not come. But I—” she sighed. “It was necessary that I come to see once more. Now I have come. I have seen. And I am, oh, so very happy!” She heaved a great sigh of joy, then moving to her place beside the fire, took up, perhaps for the last time, her peaceful dreams of those days that had passed, never to return. Next day, after bidding them farewell, she was to go trudging away toward the railway station.

“Well,” Florence whispered to herself as she crept beneath the covers in her loft-bed that night, “life can be strange and beautiful. It can be peaceful as well. Here in this happy valley one might find peace. But do I want peace? Mystery, adventure, the, long, long trail.” At that she fell asleep.

Did she accept peace or did she again take up the long, long trail? You will find the answer to that in the book called Third Warning.

Transcriber’s Notes