“I know I shall startle you,” he said, the moment they were alone together, “but you can scarcely be more startled than I was myself. I have been on the lookout constantly, but I did not expect to be rewarded by success so soon. Indeed, as it is, it has been entirely a matter of chance. It is as I felt sure it would be. Donne is in London still. I know that much, though that is all I have learned as yet. Late last night I caught a glimpse--only a glimpse--of him hurrying through a by-street. I almost fancied he had seen me and was determined to get out of the way.” “The pretty English girl,” said the guests at the inn, “comes down no longer to the _table d'hôte!_” “The pretty English girl,” remarked the wiseacres, “does not even drive out on these days, and the doctor calls every morning to see her.” “And sometimes,” added one of the wisest, “again in the evening.” “Consumption,” observed another. “Plainly consumption,” nodding significantly. “These English frauleins are so often consumptive,” commented a third. “It is astonishing to remark how many come to 'try Switzerland,' as they say.” “And die?” “And die,--as this one will.” “Poor little thing!” with a sigh and a pitying shrug of the shoulders. And in the meantime up-stairs the basket chair had been taken away from the window, and a large-cushioned, chintz-covered couch had been pushed into its place, and Dolly lay upon it. But luxurious as her couch was, and balmy as the air was, coming through the widely opened window, she did not find much rest. The fact was, she was past rest by this time, she was too weak to rest. The hot days tried her, and her sleepless nights undermined even her last feeble relic of strength. Sometimes during the day she felt that she could not lie propped up on the pillows a moment longer; but when she tried to stand or sit up she was glad to drop back again into the old place. She lost her breath fearfully soon,--the least exertion left her panting. “If I had a cough,” she said once to Miss MacDowlas, “I could understand that I was ill--or if I suffered any actual pain, but I don't, and even the doctor admits that my lungs are safe enough. What is it that he says about me? Let me see. Ah, this is it: that I am 'below par--fearfully below par,' as if I was gold, or notes, or bonds, or something. My ideas on the subject of the money market are indefinite, you see. Ah, well; I wonder when I shall be 'above par'!”