ing my Lady of her design to leave her, therefore chose not to hear any farther abuses from her; so that as soon as David's messenger came, which was very early, she went with her, without any more ceremony, to the lodging he had taken for her.—And here, I doubt not, but the graver sort of my female readers will be as ready to condemn Cynthia for taking such a step, and thus putting herself in the power of a man, with whom she had had so short an acquaintance, as my Lady ——— herself was. I do not pretend to justify her; but, without doubt, there are circumstances in life, where tile distress is so high, and the mind in such an anxiety, that persons may be pardoned the being thrown so much off their guard, as to be drawn into actions, which, in the common occurrences of life, would admit of no alleviation.
Cynthia herself, as soon as she had time to reflect, suffered as much by the consideration of what she had done, as she did while she lived with my Lady ———. She knew too much of the world, to be easily persuaded that any man could act, as David did by her, from pure friendship: nor was she, indeed, long left in doubt in this matter; for although he paid her all imaginable respect, yet she plainly saw that he liked her. This perplexed her more than ever, for it gave her very little relief to find his designs were honourable, as in her situation she could not comply with them. For, to confess the truth, although I hope she would have acted the same part with relation to her refusal of my Lord ———, had she no other motive than honour to induce her to it; yet she had the additional reason for it, of having from her youth secretly liked and esteemed a young gentleman with whom she was then acquainted. At last, after many reflections, and often revolving in her mind which way she should act, she fixed on a resolution of going into the country to see her cousin,
