Here it was a bookstore; a large and beautiful one. The light was brilliant; and on every counter and table lay spread about such treasures of printing, engraving, and the book-binder's art, as Rotha had never seen gathered together before. Mrs. Mowbray told her to amuse herself with looking at the books and pictures, while she attended to the business that brought her here; and so began a wonderful hour for Rotha. O the books! O the pictures! what pages of interest! what leaves of beauty! Her eyes were drunk with delight. From one thing to another, with careful fingers and dainty touch she went exploring; sometimes getting caught in the interest of an open page of letterpress, sometimes hanging over an engraving with wondering admiration and sympathy. It seemed any length of time, it was really not more than three quarters of an hour, when Mrs. Mowbray approached her again, having got through her errands. With cheeks red and eyes intent, Rotha was bending over something, the sense of hearing for the present gone into abeyance; Mrs. Mowbray was obliged to touch her. She smiled at Rotha's start. "What had you there, my dear?" "All sorts of things, Mrs. Mowbray! Just that minute, I was looking at an atlas." "An atlas!" "Yes, the most perfect I ever saw. O beautiful, and with so many things told and taught in it. A delightful atlas! And then, I was looking at the illustrations in the 'Arabian Nights'--I think that was the name." "You never read it?" "O no, ma'am. I never had many books to read;--until now." "Are you reading anything now, in course?" "I haven't much time, there is so much history to read. But I have begun 'Waverley.'" "Do you like it?" "O, a great deal more than I can tell!" "Do not let it draw you away from your studies." "No, ma'am. There is no danger," said Rotha joyously. Mrs. Mowbray did not speak again till the carriage stopped at Stewart's. It was the first time Rotha had ever been inside of those white walls; and this visit finished the bewitchment of the evening. At first the size of the place and the numbers of people busy there engrossed her attention; nor did either thing cease to be a wonder; but by degrees one grows accustomed even to wonders. By degrees Rotha was able to look at what was on the counters, as well as what was before them; for a while she had followed Mrs. Mowbray without seeing what that lady was doing. Mrs. Mowbray had a good deal of business on hand. When Rotha began to attend to it, the two had come into the rotunda room and were standing at the great glove counter. Between what was going on there, and what was doing at the silk counters around her, Rotha was fully engaged, and was only recalled to herself by Mrs. Mowbray's voice asking, "What is your number, Rotha?" "Ma'am?" said the girl "I did not understand--" "What is the number of the size of glove you wear?" "I do not know, ma'am--O, I remember! six and a half."