"May I see?"
"Certainly," handing it to him.
"Ah, 'The Lady of the Lake,' that is a very old friend; I thought modern young ladies had left such childish productions far behind."
"Childish! what can you mean? Why, it is so clear and vivid; I almost feel the mountain air as I read; and that combat between Fitz-James and Roderick, only a man could have written that!"
"I must read it again," said Glynn, half to himself, as he turned over the pages; "I have not seen it since I was a boy."
"Then you read, too? that also is unlike my father's other friends."
"I am afraid your father's friends do not stand very high in your estimation; I earnestly hope I may find more favor."
"I think I shall like you,"—softly—gravely, and without a tinge of coquetry, looking at him while she spoke.
He could not have answered her lightly, even had he been inclined; there was something imposing in her straightforward simplicity, and he replied, in the same tone: "I hope you will try to like me. You have not read many English books perhaps?"
"Very few books of any kind, and those chiefly since I left school. It is a great delight; but I read very slowly, indeed I am slow about everything, not that I enjoy the less."