carry home to his friends. When he was seated, he began to tell Cynthia that he had met with Camilla and Valentine. He had no sooner mentioned their names than she asked him a thousand questions concerning them, which quite puzzled him, and he knew not what to answer. This confusion she imputed to his having heard the story of their running away together in an infamous manner, which she had been told at her first arrival in town with my Lady ———, but had never spoke of it to David, as she was unwilling to spread the report. At last she cried out, "Sir, I beg, if you have any compassion for me, tell me what you know of my Camilla" (she spoke not a word of Valentine); "for there is nothing I so much long to know as whether she is innocent of what she is accused of; for if she is, how hard is her fate, and what must she have suffered by lying under such an imputation!"
David desired her to have a little patience, and he would tell her all: he had not time then to repeat all Camilla's story, but said enough to clear her innocence. Cynthia knew so much of the world, she easily observed, by his manner of talking of her, that he was in love with her. This gave her the greatest pleasure she could have received, as it was the strongest proof he could not think her guilty. And when she was further informed in what manner they kuved together, and David (who was also contriving methods to give pleasure) invited her to go home with him, and told her there was room for her in the same house, it is impossible to describe her raptures: she immediately paid her lodgings, put her things into a hackney coach, and then they set out together, to find all which either of them valued in this world.
Valentine's joy was greater than he could bear, and almost overcame his senses. The ecstasy thus
