'I don't believe it was so very wrong,' she said at last. 'I was so very careful; I took off my boots that I had been out on the hills in, and put on clean shoes, not to hurt the carpet; and I just put down the notes so lightly I could not have hurt the piano, and I washed my hands before touching the books.' 'The books! What books have you been touching?' 'Oh, I took down several; but I couldn't read all, because they were not English.' This was satisfactory as far as it went; but then the best English authors are considered scarcely more suitable reading for 'the young person' than the worst French ones. 'And which do you like best of the English ones?' 'I like one I found yesterday, all letters from different people, with the s's like f's.' I poked the fire into a blaze, and led the girl back to the book-shelves. 'Now, show me which one you mean.' She hesitated, and looked at me, at first suspecting some trap. As I waited quietly, she at last timidly touched a volume of _The Tattler_. I pointed to a modern 'popular novel,' with a picture-cover and popular title, which was among the lumber of the shelves. 'Have you read that?' 'Yes,' indifferently. 'Didn't you like that better than _The Tattler_?' 'Oh no!' indignantly. 'Why not? It is all about an actress.' 'An actress!' contemptuously. 'It isn't like any of the actresses I've ever met. It's a silly book.' 'Is there any other book you like?' 'Oh yes. I like these.' She passed her hand lovingly over a row--not an unbroken row, of course--of solid-looking calf-bound volumes, full of old-fashioned line engravings of British scenery, the text containing a discursive account of the places illustrated, enlivened by much historical information, apocryphal anecdote, and old-world scandal. 'And _Jane Eyre_, and this.' 'This' was an illustrated translation of _Don Quixote_. 'Oh, and I like _Clarissa Harlowe_ and that book with the red cover.' '_Ivanhoe?_' 'Oh yes, _Ivanhoe_,' she repeated carefully after me. Evidently, as in the case of _Don Quixote_, she had been uncertain how to pronounce the title. 'And these?' I pointed, one by one, to some modern novels. 'Don't you like any of these?' Already I began to be alarmed at the extent of her reading. 'Yes, I like some of them--pretty well.' 'Why do you like _Don Quixote_ and _Ivanhoe_ better?' She considered for a long time, her blue eyes fixed thoughtfully on the shelves. 'I think I feel more as if they'd really happened.' 'But when you were reading _Armadale_, didn't you feel as if that had happened?' 'Oh yes,' with a flash of excitement. 'One night I couldn't sleep, because I thought of it so much.' 'Then you thought as much about it as about _Ivanhoe_?' 'Ye-es, but----' A pause. 'I thought about _Ivanhoe_ because I wanted to, and I thought about _Armadale_ because I couldn't help it.'