A Crown of Shame, Volume II by Florence Marryat

The next morning Liz was walking up the avenue of orange trees that led to the White House, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and her brow wrinkled with perplexity. After many hours of painful deliberation, she had come to the conclusion to take the advice of Captain Norris, and beg Maraquita to relieve her of the intolerable burden of shame she bore for her sake; but _how_ to accuse her adopted sister of her sin, troubled her beyond measure. She felt so deeply for her youth and betrayed innocence. Such a well of divine compassion for the injured girl was mingled with her own horror of the deed, that she scarcely knew whether she should feel most inclined to commiserate with, or to blame her. Liz pictured Quita to herself writhing on the ground for very shame at the discovery of her weakness, bright-eyed, dusky-haired Maraquita, who had always seemed so much to be envied and admired, prostrate in her humiliation, and her generous heart bled in anticipation of her sister's pain. She conned over and over again the words in which she would break the truth to her, trying to make them as tender and little accusing as she could. She would endeavour (she thought) to first gain Quita's confidence, and then to make her understand that, if she would only do what was just, in confessing the truth to her parents, Liz would be her friend, and the friend of her little daughter, to their lives' end. But what she was about to ask of Quita was a very serious thing, and she doubted if the girl's strength of mind would carry her through it.

She did not ring for admittance when she reached the White House. She had been accustomed to enter and leave it as she chose, and experienced no difficulty in finding her way at once to the chamber where Maraquita spent most of her morning hours.