“I cannot tell,” responded Miss Rochester thoughtfully; “he looked too sad to-day to care to make new acquaintances. I should really like to know what his trouble is. He did not seem disposed to talk with any of us; but after the introductions were over he passed on and appeared to be absorbed in the pictures, although once or twice, as I was talking with Mr. Tillinghast, I caught him regarding me with a curious glance.” “He was probably taking the measure of the wife whom his uncle had selected for him,” Mrs. Rochester observed; adding, “I wonder if he knows that Mr. Rochester is dead?” “I don’t know; but he was evidently surprised to learn that we were in Paris.” “Yes, we were in Berlin when he wrote that he would join us, and doubtless he imagined that we were still there. I should suppose he would call; I do not see how he can do otherwise—it would really seem rude in him to avoid us, even though he should not wish to fulfil the conditions of the will,” Mrs. Rochester gravely observed. Yes, Dr. Winthrop was in Paris. He had met a friend at Interlaken, and together they had made a tour of the Alps and of Germany, and now were intending to spend a little time in Paris, after which they were to go on to Italy. He had been greatly astonished when he was so unexpectedly introduced to Miss Sadie Rochester in the Luxembourg. The meeting had also been a great shock to him, for it brought vividly to his memory all the past and opened afresh the wounds caused by his recent loss. He had not given any special thought to the Rochesters since his marriage. He had expected, as we already know, to go abroad to meet them the previous fall, but his duties in New York had prevented. Then as soon as the epidemic in that city had subsided, he had gone to keep a long-deferred appointment with his friend Dr. Cutler, of Boston, after which he intended to join his family abroad and meet the lady whom his uncle and his mother were so anxious he should marry. Meantime Mr. Rochester, who had long been in poor health, had died suddenly, and Mrs. Rochester—who, by the way, was a second wife—never having liked Berlin, but having always been eager for the gayeties of the French capital, made arrangements as soon as possible to come to Paris, where she and her daughter had remained ever since. Being in mourning, they could not go into society very much, but they managed to have a pleasant time visiting various points of interest and mingling in a quiet way with a few Americans whom they found in Paris. Dr. Winthrop, after having sent his father home with his brother, had begun a sort of aimless wandering, and had been so absorbed in his grief that he had not given a thought to the Rochesters.