To say that we read these books was nothing. We devoured them, read them aloud to each other, and talked about them from morning till night. Books of any sort other than "Lives of the Saints" and "Meditations" were such a wonder to us that it is not strange our heads were a little turned with them. I think Amabel and I had our first difference of opinion over the amiable Clementine, whom she admired for her wonderful spirit of self-sacrifice and piety, and whom I thought a sentimental little fool—(I have never changed my mind)—and she was downright vexed with me, when I laughed outright at the pathetic image of Sir Charles and Clementine on their knees to each other, and the faithful Camilla presenting a smelling-bottle alternately to each of their noses. We were actually rather cool to each other for a whole day, but made up our quarrel at night over Mr. Thomson's description of a thunder shower. I have said that Mrs. Thorpe's shop was a resort for all the fine folks in town. It was not long before we began to be observed as we sat in the back-parlor, which was divided from the shop by a screen. In this parlor were kept some special boxes of lace too precious to be trusted to the outer shop, and hither also came the fine ladies to try on the "heads," ruffs, and so on, which they were minded to purchase. At this distance of time, I may say without vanity, that I was an unusually pretty girl, though not so handsome as Amabel. She was and is one of the most beautiful women I ever saw in my life. I had a dark clear skin, with a fresh color, and the crisped or waved black hair so common in Cornwall. Amabel, on the contrary, was fair and delicate as a lily, with dark clear grey eyes, and a wonderful profusion of straight golden hair, a little inclining to redness. Her features were regular, and she had always a calm placid look, a little wondering, as it were, as though her spirit had not got over its surprise at the strange sphere wherein it found itself. Ladies began to notice us, and gentlemen to pass and re-pass the door of the parlor, and put up their eye-glasses to stare at us. All this made Mrs. Thorpe a little uneasy, and she used now and then to make a pretext to send us out of the room.