Meantime Madame Winthrop and Evelyn—the latter being intimate with Miss Nellie Savage and in regular correspondence with her—had learned that Dr. Winthrop had met the Rochesters in Paris, and how the meeting had been brought about. “Everything is coming out all right, mamma,” Evelyn had triumphantly remarked, after imparting the information to her mother. “Miss Savage writes that Sadie Rochester is a very fascinating girl, as well as a thorough society woman, and that True is a constant visitor at their hotel.” “That is the best news that I have heard for months,” madam responded, her face lighting with pleasure; “and now, Evelyn, I think the wisest thing we can do will be to go directly to Paris, make the acquaintance of the Rochesters, and do all that we can to bring about that marriage.” “I believe that would be a good move, mamma; but would papa consent to the plan?” Miss Winthrop inquired, in some doubt. “Yes; he said only yesterday that he wished he were back again on the other side of the Atlantic. I imagine, as his health is not fully restored, that he does not feel quite safe to be so far away from Truman, in whose medical skill he has absolute faith.” “Then let us go at once, by all means. I have been dying to get away from New York ever since that dreadful fire; the place seems haunted to me.” The plan met the ready approval of both Mr. Winthrop and his son Norman; it was, therefore, immediately acted upon, and a few weeks later the whole family were pleasantly settled in spacious apartments overlooking the Place de la Concorde. Dr. Winthrop was greatly surprised and not very well pleased by their sudden and unlooked-for appearance; but, at his father’s earnest request, he consented to give up his lodgings and come to them, so that he might be at hand if any one were taken ill. Mr. Winthrop had been very nervous about himself ever since his last attack. Mrs. Rochester and Madame Winthrop at once became very friendly, and freely opened their hearts to each other; they agreed that a union between the Hamilton heir and Rochester heiress was the one thing, of all others, to be most desired, and pledged themselves to spare no pains to bring about the desired alliance. “Who was this girl whom your son married under such romantic circumstances, and who died such a dreadful death?” Mrs. Rochester inquired one day during a long and confidential conversation with her new friend. “She was a Miss Howland.” “Howland! Howland!” repeated Mrs. Rochester meditatively, as if the name had a familiar sound, and yet she could not quite identify it. “Yes—Salome Howland,” said Madame Winthrop. Mrs. Rochester was sitting by a window, and happened to be looking down upon the street at that moment, so that her companion could not see the deadly pallor that suddenly settled over her face, nor the look of horror that leaped into her eyes at the sound of that name.