Let those who are tempted to do wrong by the hopes of future gratification, or the prospect of certain concealment and impunity, remember that, unless they are totally depraved, they bear in their own hearts a monitor, who will prevent their enjoying what they ill obtained. In vain Cecilia ran to the rest of her companions, to display her present, in hopes that the applause of others would restore her own self-complacency; in vain she saw the Flora pass in due pomp from hand to hand, each vying with the other in extolling the beauty of the gift and the generosity of the giver. Cecilia was still displeased with herself, with them, and even with their praise. From Louisa’s gratitude, however, she yet expected much pleasure, and immediately she ran upstairs to her room. In the meantime, Leonora had gone into the hall to buy a bodkin; she had just broken hers. In giving her change, the peddler took out of his pocket, with some halfpence, the very box which Cecilia had sold to him. Leonora did not in the least suspect the truth, for her mind was above suspicion; and besides, she had the utmost confidence in Cecilia. “I should like to have that box,” said she, “for it is like one of which I was very fond.” The peddler named the price, and Leonora took the box. She intended to give it to little Louisa. On going to her room she found her asleep, and she sat softly down by her bedside. Louisa opened her eyes. “I hope I didn’t disturb you,” said Leonora. “Oh, no. I didn’t hear you come in; but what have you got there?” “Only a little box; would you like to have it? I bought on purpose for you, as I thought perhaps it would please you, because it’s like that which I gave Cecilia.” “Oh, yes! that out of which she used to give me Barbary drops. I am very much obliged to you; I always thought that exceedingly pretty, and this, indeed, is as like it as possible. I can’t unscrew it; will you try?” Leonora unscrewed it. “Goodness!” exclaimed Louisa, “this must be Cecilia’s box. Look, don’t you see a great L at the bottom of it?” Leonora’s colour changed. “Yes,” she replied calmly, “I see that; but it is no proof that it is Cecilia’s. You know that I bought this box just now of the peddler.” “That may be,” said Louisa; “but I remember scratching that L with my own needle, and Cecilia scolded me for it, too. Do go and ask her if she has lost her box—do,” repeated Louisa, pulling her by the ruffle, as she did not seem to listen.