Helen had hitherto seen Lady Davenant only with the eyes of very early
youth; but now, after an absence of two years--a great space in her
existence, it seemed as if she looked upon her with new eyes, and every
hour made fresh discoveries in her character. Contrary to what too often
happens when we again see and judge of those whom we have early known, Lady
Davenant's character and abilities, instead of sinking and diminishing,
appeared to rise and enlarge, to expand and be ennobled to Helen's view.
Strong lights and shades there were, but these only excited and fixed her
attention. Even her defects--those inequalities of temper of which she had
already had some example, were interesting as evidences of the power and
warmth of her affections.

The books on the table were those which Lady Davenant had had in her
travelling carriage. They gave Helen an idea of the range and variety of
the reader's mind. Some of them were presentation copies, as they are
called, from several of the first authors of our own, and foreign
countries; some with dedications to Lady Davenant; others with inscriptions
expressing respect or propitiating favour, or anxious for judgment.

The portfolio contained letters whose very signatures would have driven the
first of modern autograph collectors distracted with joy--whose meanest
scrap would make a scrap-book the envy of the world.

But among the letters in this portfolio, there were none of those nauseous
notes of compliment, none of those epistles adulatory, degrading to those
who write, and equally degrading to those to whom they are written: letters
which are, however cleverly turned, inexpressibly wearisome to all but the
parties concerned.

After opening and looking at the signature of several of these letters,