She was a small, plump, fair woman, with a bright, clear eye, and an extraordinary air of neatness and briskness. But these qualities were evidently combined with an unaffected humility, and the Doctor gave her his esteem as soon as he had looked at her. A brave little person, with lively perceptions, and yet a disbelief in her own talent for social, as distinguished from practical, affairs—this was his rapid mental _résumé_ of Mrs. Montgomery, who, as he saw, was flattered by what she regarded as the honour of his visit. Mrs. Montgomery, in her little red house in the Second Avenue, was a person for whom Dr. Sloper was one of the great men, one of the fine gentlemen of New York; and while she fixed her agitated eyes upon him, while she clasped her mittened hands together in her glossy poplin lap, she had the appearance of saying to herself that he quite answered her idea of what a distinguished guest would naturally be. She apologised for being late; but he interrupted her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said; “for while I sat here I had time to think over what I wish to say to you, and to make up my mind how to begin.” “Oh, do begin!” murmured Mrs. Montgomery. “It is not so easy,” said the Doctor, smiling. “You will have gathered from my letter that I wish to ask you a few questions, and you may not find it very comfortable to answer them.” “Yes; I have thought what I should say. It is not very easy.” “But you must understand my situation—my state of mind. Your brother wishes to marry my daughter, and I wish to find out what sort of a young man he is. A good way to do so seemed to be to come and ask you; which I have proceeded to do.” Mrs. Montgomery evidently took the situation very seriously; she was in a state of extreme moral concentration. She kept her pretty eyes, which were illumined by a sort of brilliant modesty, attached to his own countenance, and evidently paid the most earnest attention to each of his words. Her expression indicated that she thought his idea of coming to see her a very superior conception, but that she was really afraid to have opinions on strange subjects. “I am extremely glad to see you,” she said, in a tone which seemed to admit, at the same time, that this had nothing to do with the question. The Doctor took advantage of this admission. “I didn’t come to see you for your pleasure; I came to make you say disagreeable things—and you can’t like that. What sort of a gentleman is your brother?” Mrs. Montgomery’s illuminated gaze grew vague, and began to wander. She smiled a little, and for some time made no answer, so that the Doctor at last became impatient. And her answer, when it came, was not satisfactory. “It is difficult to talk about one’s brother.” “Not when one is fond of him, and when one has plenty of good to say.” “Yes, even then, when a good deal depends on it,” said Mrs. Montgomery. “Nothing depends on it, for you.” “I mean for—for—” and she hesitated.