You must write me a letter from Spa,
and if I do not hear or see anything of you in a week's time,
I shall come and look after you."
"Yes, I will write," said Madelon; "and I wish--I wish I was
not going away; I have been so happy here." And then she hid
her face on Jeanne-Marie's shoulder, while the sky was all
rosy with the sunset of the last of these peaceful summer days
that our Madelon was to spend at Le Trooz.
Jeanne-Marie could not spare time to go again to Spa the next
day, but she went with Madelon to the station, and waited till
the train that bore her away was out of sight, and then, all
lonely, she walked back to her empty house.
CHAPTER XVI.
How Madelon kept her Promise.
Madelon was standing in a little upper bedroom of the Hotel de
Madrid, a room so high up that from the window one looked over
the tops of the trees in the Place Royale below, to the
opposite hills. It was already dusk, but there was sufficient
light to enable her to count over the little piles of gold
that lay on the table before her, and which, as she counted,
she put into a small canvas bag.
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