While Mrs. Rochester and her daughter were absorbed in the contents of Dr. Winthrop’s letter, the young physician and his friend, Mr. Tillinghast, were rolling rapidly through the streets of Paris, intending to have a long day in the suburbs. It was a fine, bracing day near the last of October; the country was in its glory, the roads as smooth as a floor, and Dr. Winthrop, feeling finally released from the Rochester-Hamilton contract and proportionately relieved, seemed more like himself than he had since his great trouble. The two gentlemen enjoyed their excursion exceedingly; they visited several points of interest, drove over many miles of beautiful country, and finally returned to the city just as the sun was setting. As they were passing through one of the crowded thoroughfares to their hotel, they came upon a carriage that had just been overturned. A number of people were gathered about it, and they could see some one assisting a woman from the _débris_. Mr. Tillinghast put his head out of the window and told the driver to ascertain what the trouble was. The coachman made the inquiry and replied that two American ladies had been driving; their carriage had been struck by a heavy team and been overturned. One lady had been injured and was now lying unconscious, and the other one was badly frightened. The sympathies of both men were at once enlisted. They sprang to the ground and made their way through the crowd to see if they could be of any assistance to their unfortunate countrywomen, and the next moment Dr. Winthrop found himself face to face with Miss Rochester. For an instant a feeling of annoyance and dismay came over him; then his native chivalry, as well as his professional instinct, was aroused, the more so as he caught sight of a middle-aged woman of fine appearance lying unconscious upon some cushions, the sleeve and front of her dress saturated with blood. “Miss Rochester! can I be of any assistance?” he inquired, in a grave, courteous tone, for he would not force his services upon her even in an emergency like this. The girl shot a quick, startled look at him, for she had not seen him until he spoke her name; then a faint smile broke over her pale face, and she cried eagerly: “O Dr. Winthrop! if you will be so kind as to see how seriously mamma is injured I shall be very grateful.” He was on his knees before the unconscious woman, making an examination before she had ceased speaking. He found that Mrs. Rochester’s left arm had been broken, and was also badly cut by the glass from a shattered window, while he feared there might be some internal injury, the nature of which he could not determine without a more thorough examination. “Tillinghast,” he said to his friend, “lend a hand here; we will put her in our carriage—that is, if Miss Rochester approves,” he added, glancing at the anxious girl.