re.

"Let her alone for a day or two," said Cecilia. "Of course she must have
a few days to think of it. I need hardly tell you that you will never
have to be ashamed of your sister."

The Tuesday and the Wednesday passed by, and though Cecilia and Florence
when together discussed the matter, no change was made in the wishes or
thoughts of either of them. Florence, now that she was in town, had
consented to remain till after Harry should return, on the understanding
that she should not be called upon to see him. He was to be told that
she forgave him altogether--that his troth was returned to him and that
he was free, but that in such circumstances a meeting between them could
be of no avail. And then a little packet was made up, which was to be
given to him. How was it that Florence had brought with her all his
presents and all his letters? But there they were in her box up stairs,
and sitting by herself with weary fingers, she packed them, and left
them packed under lock and key, addressed by herself to Harry Clavering,
Esq. Oh, the misery of packing such a parcel! The feeling with which a
woman does it is never experienced by a man. He chucks the things
together in wrath--the lock of hair, the letters in the pretty Italian
hand that have taken so much happy care in the writing, the jewelled
shirt-studs, which were first put in by the fingers that gave them. They
are thrown together, and given to some other woman to deliver. But the
girl lingers over her torture. She reads the letters again. She thinks
of the moments of bliss which each little toy has given. She is loth to
part with everything. She would fain keep some one thing--the smallest
of them all. She doubts--till a feeling of maidenly reserve constrains
her at last, and the coveted trifle, with careful, pains-taking fingers,
is put with the rest, and the parcel is made complete, and the address
is written with precision.

"Of course I cannot see him," said Florence. "You will hand to him what
I have to send to him; and you must ask him, if he has kept any of my
letters, to return them." She said nothing of the shirt-studs, but he
would understand that. As for the lock of hair--doubtless it had been
burned.

Cecilia said but little in answer to this. She would not as yet look
upon the matter as Florence looked at it, and as Theodore did also.
Harry was to be back in town on Thursday morning. He could not,
probably, be seen or heard of on that day, because