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.