Next morning they showed her, at his lodgings, two lines in a newspaper, which said that he was ill with bronchitis at the Hotel Krone, Bad-Platten, in Switzerland.

It may have been an answer to her prayer, as she thought, but we know now how the paragraph got into print.  On the previous evening the landlady had met Mr. Pym on the ladder of an omnibus, and told him, before they could be plucked apart, of the lady who knew that Mr. Sandys was ill.  It must be bronchitis again.  Pym was much troubled; he knew that the Krone at Bad-Platten had been Tommy’s destination.  He talked that day, and one of the company was a reporter, which accounts for the paragraph.

Grizel found out how she could get to Bad-Platten.  She left her box behind her at the cloakroom of the railway station, where I suppose it was sold years afterwards.  From Dover she sent a telegram to Tommy, saying:  “I am coming.  Grizel.”

On entering the train at Calais she had a railway journey of some thirty hours, broken by two changes only.  She could speak a little French, but all the use she made of it was to ask repeatedly if she was in the right train.  An English lady who travelled with her for many hours woke up now and again to notice that this quiet, prim-looking girl was always sitting erect, with her hand on her umbrella, as if ready to leave the train at any moment.  The lady pointed out some of the beauties of the scenery to her, and Grizel tried to listen.  “I am afraid you are unhappy,” her companion said at last.

“That is not why I am crying,” Grizel said; “I think I am crying because I am so hungry.”

The stranger gave her sandwiches and claret as cold as the rivers that raced the train; and Grizel told her, quite frankly, why she was going to Bad-Platten.  She did not tell his name, only that he was ill, and that she was engaged to him, and he had sent for her.  She believed it all.  The lady was very sympathetic, and gave her information about the diligence by which the last part of Grizel’s journey must be made, and also said:  “You must not neglect your meals, if only for his sake; for how can you nurse him back to health if you arrive at Bad-Platten ill yourself?  Consider his distress if he were to be told that you were in the inn, but not able to go to him.”

“Oh!” Grizel cried, rocking her arms for the first time since she knew her plant was drooping.  She promised to be very practical henceforth, so as to have strength to take her place by his side at once.  It was strange that she who was so good a nurse had forgotten these things, so strange that it alarmed her, as if she feared that, without being able to check herself, she was turning into some other person.