Leonora, indeed, did not hear, for she was lost in thought. She was comparing circumstances, which had before escaped her attention. She recollected that Cecilia had passed her as she came into the hall, without seeming to see her, but had blushed as she passed. She remembered that the peddler appeared unwilling to part with the box, and was going to put it again in his pocket with the halfpence. “And why should he keep it in his pocket, and not show it with his other things?” Combining all these circumstances, Leonora had no longer any doubt of the truth, for though she had honourable confidence in her friends, she had too much penetration to be implicitly credulous. “Louisa,” she began, but at this instant she heard a step, which, by its quickness, she knew to be Cecilia’s, coming along the passage. “If you love me, Louisa,” said Leonora, “say nothing about the box.” “Nay, but why not? I daresay she had lost it.” “No, my dear, I’m afraid she has not.” Louisa looked surprised. “But I have reasons for desiring you not to say anything about it.” “Well, then, I won’t, indeed.” Cecilia opened the door, came forward smiling, as if secure of a good reception, and taking the Flora out of the case, she placed it on the mantlepiece, opposite to Louisa’s bed. “Dear, how beautiful!” cried Louisa, starting up. “Yes,” said Cecilia, “and guess who it’s for.” “For me, perhaps!” said the ingenuous Louisa. “Yes, take it, and keep it, for my sake. You know that I broke your mandarin.” “Oh, but this is a great deal prettier and larger than that.” “Yes, I know it is; and I meant that it should be so. I should only have done what I was bound to do if I had only given you a mandarin.” “Well,” replied Louisa, “and that would have been enough, surely; but what a beautiful crown of roses! and then that basket of flowers! they almost look as if I could smell them. Dear Cecilia, I’m very much obliged to you; but I won’t take it by way of payment for the mandarin you broke; for I’m sure you could not help that, and, besides, I should have broken it myself by this time. You shall give it to me entirely; and as your keepsake, I’ll keep it as long as I live.” Louisa stopped short and coloured; the word keepsake recalled the box to her mind, and all the train of ideas which the Flora had banished. “But,” said she, looking up wistfully in Cecilia’s face, and holding the Flora doubtfully, “did you—” Leonora, who was just quitting the room, turned her head back, and gave Louisa a look, which silenced her.