To employ her exuberant activity, Cecilia had been dragging branches of lilacs and laburnums, roses and sweet briar, to ornament the bower in which her fate was to be decided. It was excessively hot, but her mind was engaged, and she was indefatigable. She stood still at last to admire her works. Her companions all joined in loud applause. They were not a little prejudiced in her favour by the great eagerness which she expressed to win their prize, and by the great importance which she seemed to affix to the preference of each individual. At last, “Where is Leonora?” cried one of them; and immediately, as we have seen, they ran to call her. Cecilia was left alone. Overcome with heat and too violent exertion, she had hardly strength to support herself; each moment appeared to her intolerably long. She was in a state of the utmost suspense, and all her courage failed her. Even hope forsook her; and hope is a cordial which leaves the mind depressed and enfeebled. “The time is now come,” said Cecilia; “in a few moments all will be decided. In a few moments—goodness! How much do I hazard? If I should not win the prize, how shall I confess what I have done? How shall I beg Leonora to forgive me? I, who hoped to restore my friendship to her as an honour! They are gone to seek for her. The moment she appears I shall be forgotten. What—what shall I do?” said Cecilia, covering her face with her hands. Such was Cecilia’s situation when Leonora, accompanied by her companions, opened the hall door. They most of them ran forwards to Cecilia. As Leonora came into the bower, she held out her hand to Cecilia. “We are not rivals, but friends, I hope,” said she. Cecilia clasped her hand; but she was in too great agitation to speak. The table was now set in the arbour—the vase was now placed in the middle. “Well!” said Cecilia, eagerly, “who begins?” Caroline, one of her friends, came forward first, and then all the others successively. Cecilia’s emotion was hardly conceivable. “Now they are all in! Count them, Caroline!” “One, two, three, four; the numbers are both equal.” There was a dead silence. “No, they are not,” exclaimed Cecilia, pressing forward, and putting a shell into a vase. “I have not given mine, and I give it to Leonora.” Then, snatching the bracelet, “It is yours, Leonora,” said she; “take it, and give me back your friendship.” The whole assembly gave one universal clap and a general shout of applause. “I cannot be surprised at this from you, Cecilia,” said Leonora; “and do you then still love me as you used to do?” “Oh, Leonora, stop! don’t praise me; I don’t deserve this,” said she, turning to her loudly applauding companions. “You will soon despise me. Oh, Leonora, you will never forgive me! I have deceived you; I have sold—”