He was a very big and stout man--one of the biggest men I have ever seen. He was clad in a rich silk gown, flowing loosely and freely about him, white bands, clean and freshly starched, and a very full wig. He had the reddest face possible: it was of a deep crimson colour, tinged with purple, and the colour extended even to the ears, and the neck--so much of it as could be seen--was as crimson as the cheeks. He had a full nose, long and broad, a nose of great strength and very deep in colour; but his eyes, which were large, reminded me of that verse in the Psalms, wherein the divine poet speaks of those whose eyes swell out with fatness: his lips were gross and protruded; he had a large square forehead and a great amplitude of cheek. He was broad in the shoulders, deep-chested and portly--a man of great presence; when he stood upright he not only seemed almost to touch the ceiling, but also to fill up the breadth of the room. My heart sank as I looked at him; for he was not the manner of man I expected, and I was afraid. Where were the outward signs and tokens of that piety which my father had led me to expect in my uncle? I had looked for a gentle scholar, a grave and thoughtful bearing. But, even to my inexperienced eyes, the confident carriage of the Doctor appeared braggart: the roll of his eyes when we entered the room could not be taken even by a simple country girl for the grave contemplation of a humble and fervent Christian: the smell of the room was inconsistent with the thought of religious meditation: there were no books or papers, or any other outward signs of scholarship; and even the presence of the Prayer-book on the table, with the hassocks, seemed a mockery of sacred things. "So, good Roger," he said, in a voice loud and sonorous, yet musical as the great bell of St. Paul's, so deep was it and full--"So, good Roger, whom have we here?" "A young lady, sir, whom I had the good fortune to meet on Ludgate Hill. She was on her way to your reverence's, to ask your good offices. She is--ahem!--fully acquainted with the customary fees of the Establishment." "That is well," he replied. "My dear young lady, I am fortunate in being the humble instrument of making so sweet a creature happy. But I do not see ... in fact ... the other party." "The young lady expects the gentleman every minute," said the excellent Roger. "Oh!" cried Mrs. Gambit, "the man is stark mad--staring mad!" "Sir," I faltered--"there is, I fear, some mistake." He waved both of his hands with a gesture reassuring and grand.