h a recantation, after her knowledge
of what had passed between him and Caelia.

She could indeed have gone to him, and not have owned what she had seen
or heard; but now her abhorrence of even the appearance of treachery or
cunning was so great, that she could not bear to add the smallest grain
of falsehood or deceit to the weight of her guilt, which was already
almost insupportable: and should she tell him of her repentance, with a
confession of her knowledge of his engagement with Caelia, it would (as
has been before observed) appear both servile and insincere.

Nothing could now appear so altered as the whole face of this once happy
family. Sempronius as much as possible shunned the sight of Chloe; for
as she was the cause of all the confusion amongst them, he had almost an
aversion to her. Though he was not of an implacable temper, yet, as the
injury was intended to one he sincerely loved, he found it much harder
to forgive it, than if it had even succeeded against himself; and as he
still looked upon Chloe as the cause of melancholy in his dear Caelia,
he could hardly have any patience with her.

No words can describe the various passions which were expressed in the
sad countenance of Chloe, when first she met her friend. They were both
afraid of speaking. Shame, and the fear of being (and with too good
reason) suspected of insincerity, withheld Chloe; and an unwillingness
to accuse or hurt her friend withheld the gentle Caelia. She sometimes
indeed thought she saw repentance in Chloe's face, and wished for
nothing more than to seal her pardon. But till it was asked, she was
in doubt (from what had passed) whether such pardon and proffered
reconciliation might not be rejected. She knew that her friend's
passions were naturally stronger than hers; and she therefore trembled
at the consequences of coming to an explanation.

But there was hardly a greater sufferer in this scene of confusion than
the poor old Lady Amanda. She saw a sort of horror and wildness in the
face of Chloe; and in Caelia's a settled melancholy, and such an unusual
reserve in both towards each other, as well as to herself, as quite
astonished her.

Sempronius came indeed to the house as often as usual; but in his
countenance she could perceive a sort of anger and concern which
perfectly frightened her. But as they did not speak to her, she could
not bring herself to ask the cause of this woeful change, for fear of
hearing something too bad