“Pray, Miss Rochester, do not imagine that I am so unreasonable as that. I will gladly remain to look after Mrs. Rochester, but you must not allow my presence to banish you from attendance upon her for a single moment. You have treated me with too much candor to-day for me to entertain any other than the most friendly sentiments,” Dr. Winthrop earnestly replied. “Thank you for the assurance,” Miss Rochester answered, with a charming smile. Then she added gently, and with visible feeling: “Mamma and I were both deeply touched by the sad story in your letter, and I want to tell you how sorry I am for your great bereavement; you perceive I am assuming the prerogative of a friend in expressing my sympathy.” Her voice faltered, and there were tears in her eyes as she held out her hand to him. He clasped it, and seemed greatly affected by the feeling which she manifested. He could not speak, but he looked the appreciation of her sympathy which he could not express. With great tact she changed the subject, and kept him talking for some time upon topics of mutual interest, and when he finally took his departure he found, to his surprise, that he had spent more than half an hour in her society, and enjoyed every moment. The next morning he felt a strange impatience to learn how his patient passed the night, and wondered if his former interest in his profession was not returning to him. He found Mrs. Rochester much more comfortable than he expected. She was bright and smiling, and he saw at once that she was a woman possessing more than ordinary character, with great energy and natural ability. She greeted him with charming cordiality and thanked him heartily for having promised to remain in Paris on her account for a few days longer. “Though,” she remarked, with a resolute nod of her head, “I am not going to be ill; I believe I should have got up this morning, before this, only I feared a reprimand from you.” It would be better, he told her, to lie quietly in bed, for two or three days at least, until she should fully recover from the nervous shock to her system. “But I am in no pain. I am only a trifle weak and a little lame in this shoulder from the hard knocks I received, and I warn you, Dr. Winthrop, that I cannot consent to lie inactive here for any length of time. Poor Sadie is worse off, I believe, than I am this morning,” she concluded, with a sigh. “Is Miss Rochester ill?” Dr. Winthrop questioned, with a look of concern. He had missed her when he first entered, but kept hoping that she would make her appearance before he left. “I cannot say that she is really ill; but she, too, is quite lame from a wrench which she received in yesterday’s accident,” Mrs. Rochester replied. “I am sorry; can I do anything for her?” Dr. Winthrop eagerly asked.