“What have I done?” said Cecilia, recollecting herself; “Louisa! Louisa!” she called very loud, but Louisa would not turn back; she was running to her companions, who were still dancing, hand in hand, upon the grass, whilst Leonora, sitting in the middle, was singing to them. “Stop! stop! and hear me!” cried Louisa, breaking through them; and, rushing up to Leonora, she threw her hat at her feet, and panting for breath—“It was full—almost full of my own strawberries,” said she, “the first I ever got out of my garden. They should all have been for you, Leonora; but now I have not one left. They are all gone!” said she; and she hid her face in Leonora’s lap. “Gone! gone where?” said everyone, at once running up to her. “Cecilia! Cecilia!” said she, sobbing. “Cecilia,” repeated Leonora, “what of Cecilia?” “Yes, it was—it was.” “Come with me,” said Leonora, unwilling to have her friend exposed. “Come, and I will get you some more strawberries.” “Oh, I don’t mind the strawberries, indeed; but I wanted to have had the pleasure of giving them to you.” Leonora took her up in her arms to carry her away, but it was too late. “What, Cecilia! Cecilia, who won the prize! It could not surely be Cecilia,” whispered every busy tongue. At this instant the bell summoned them in. “There she is! There she is!” cried they, pointing to an arbour, where Cecilia was standing ashamed and alone; and, as they passed her, some lifted up their hands and eyes with astonishment, others whispered and huddled mysteriously together, as if to avoid her. Leonora walked on, her head a little higher than usual. “Leonora!” said Cecilia, timorously, as she passed. “Oh, Cecilia! who would have thought that you had a bad heart?” Cecilia turned her head aside and burst into tears. “Oh, no, indeed, she has not a bad heart!” cried Louisa, running up to her and throwing her arms around her neck. “She’s very sorry; are not you, Cecilia? But don’t cry any more, for I forgive you, with all my heart—and I love you now, though I said I did not when I was in a passion.” “Oh, you sweet-tempered girl! how I love you!” said Cecilia, kissing her. “Well, then, if you do, come along with me, and dry your eyes, for they are so red!” “Go, my dear, and I’ll come presently.” “Then I will keep a place for you, next to me; but you must make haste, or you will have to come in when we have all sat down to supper, and then you will be so stared at! So don’t stay, now.” Cecilia followed Louisa with her eyes till she was out of sight. “And is Louisa,” said she, to herself, “the only one who would stop to pity me? Mrs. Villars told me that this day should be mine. She little thought how it would end!” Saying these words, Cecilia threw herself down upon the ground; her arm leaned upon a heap of turf which she had raised in the morning, and which, in the pride and gaiety of her heart, she had called her throne.