Leonora unscrewed it.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Louisa, "this must be Cecilia's box; look, don't
you see a great L at the bottom of it?"

Leonora's colour changed. "Yes," she replied calmly, "I see that, but it
is no proof that it is Cecilia's; you know that I bought this box just
now of the pedlar."

"That may be," said Louisa; "but I remember scratching that L with my
own needle, and Cecilia scolded me for it, too. Do go and ask her if she
has lost her box--do," repeated Louisa, pulling her by the sleeve, as
she did not seem to listen.

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 pedlar appeared unwilling to part with the box, and
was going to put it again into his pocket with the half-pence; "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 dare say she has lost it."