and walked up in front
of the prime minister's house--as it was then--and of the yellow palace
built by one of our merchant princes, and turned into the street that
was all but interdicted to her by her own conscience. She turned up
Bolton Street, and with a trembling hand knocked at Lady Ongar's door.

Florence in the meanwhile was sitting alone in Onslow Terrace. She knew
now that Harry was ill at Clavering--that he was indeed very ill, though
Mrs. Clavering had assured her that his illness was not dangerous; for
Mrs. Clavering had written to herself--addressing her with all the old
familiarity and affection--with a warmth of affection that was almost
more than natural. It was clear that Mrs. Clavering knew nothing of
Harry's sins. Or, might it not be possible, Cecilia had suggested, that
Mrs. Clavering might have known, and have resolved potentially that
those sins should be banished, and become ground for some beautifully
sincere repentance? Ah! how sweet it would be to receive that wicked
sheep back again into the sheepfold, and then to dock him a little of
his wandering powers, to fix him with some pleasant clog, to tie him
down as a prudent domestic sheep should be tied, and make him the pride
of the flock! But all this had been part of Cecilia's scheme, and of
that scheme poor Florence knew nothing. According to Florence's view,
Mrs. Clavering's letter was written under a mistake. Harry had kept his
secret at home, and intended to keep it for the present. But there was
the letter, and Florence felt that it was impossible for her to answer
it without telling the whole truth. It was very painful to her to leave
unanswered so kind a letter as that, and it was quite impossible that
she should write of Harry in the old strain. "It will be best that I
should tell her the whole," Florence had said, "and then I shall be
saved the pain of any direct communication with him." Her brother, to
whom Cecilia had repeated this, applauded his sister's resolution. "Let
her face it and bear it, and live it down," he had said. "Let her do it
at once, so that all this maudlin sentimentality may be at an end." But
Cecilia would not accede to this, and as Florence was in truth resolved,
and had declared her purpose plainly, Cecilia was driven to the
execution of her scheme more quickly than she had intended. In the mean
time, Florence took out her little desk and wrote her letter. In tears,
and an agony of spirit which none can underst