“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.
At this instant, Mrs. Villars came out to enjoy the serenity of the evening, and, passing by the arbour where Cecilia lay, she started. Cecilia rose hastily.
“Who is there?” said Mrs. Villars.
“It is I, madam.”
“And who is I?”