On that same evening Herr Graf von Schönstein dined with his brother, Mr. John Hubbard, at his residence, Rose Villa, Haverstock Hill. The Count, since his grand accession to fortune, was not a frequent visitor at his brother’s house; but when he did go there he was treated with much deference and apparent kindness. There were at dinner only the Count, his brother, his brother’s wife, and her sister. When the two ladies rose to go into the drawing-room, Mrs. Hubbard said to the Count, who had sprung to the door: "Pray don’t leave us two poor creatures all to ourselves; you may smoke in the drawing-room whenever you please to come in." "Jack," said the Count, returning to the table and pulling out his cigar-case, "that wife of yours is an angel." And so she was an angel—that is, a being without predicates. She was a mild, colourless, pretty woman, never out of temper, never enthusiastic, absolutely ignorant of everything beyond drawing-room accomplishments, scarcely proud even of her smooth, light-brown hair, her blue eyes, and rounded cheeks. She knew, of course, that there were few women of her age looked so well and so young; she did not know to attribute that rotundity and youthfulness of face to her easy temperament, her good disposition, and lack of brain. Mrs. John Hubbard was conscious of thinking seriously only upon one subject; and that was whether the Count, her brother-in-law, could be induced to marry her sister, or whether he would remain unmarried, and leave his large fortune to her eldest boy Alexander, a young gentleman of eight, who now, in Highland dress, was about to sit down to the piano and delight his mother and aunt with a _staccato_ rendering of "La ci darem la mano." There were reasons why Mrs. Hubbard should be disquieted upon this point. "Quite an angel," said the Count, oracularly. "But we mustn’t go into the drawing-room just yet. I want to talk to you, Jack, about that young lady, you know." "Miss Brunel?" "Yes. Will you mind my taking a glass of that pale port of yours with my cigar? I know it’s a shame, but——" "Don’t mention it, Fred; I wish you’d come oftener and try it."