him so much uneasiness. She, on the other hand (though her mind had been totally void of pride, of which she had very little; or of modesty, of which she was the most exact pattern), could not have begun to excuse a crime of which she was entirely innocent to a man who neither did nor had any right to censure her. As for Valentine, he was in a dilemma no less perplexing; for though he was sensible of David's jealousy, and confident of his Camilla's innocence, yet, in their present situation, he could by no means persuade himself to say anything which might have been construed as a direct offer of his sister to a man to whom they both were so greatly obliged, and who at that time appeared in the sight of fortune (the only light by which some people's eyes can see) so highly their superior.
As for Cynthia, she knew too much of the world, and was too well bred, to intermeddle officiously in so delicate an affair.
Under these circumstances were this little company, when by lucky accident, rather than good design, did the author of all this mischief unravel the perplexity he had occasioned, by means of a letter which a servant now delivered to Camilla. She opened it hastily, wondering what corner of the earth could produce a correspondent for her at this time, David watched her looks; and observing she blushed and changed colour, was in the utmost anxiety, in which she left him no longer than while she read the letter; when she sent the servant out of the room, and gave it into his hand, saying, she thought every one in that company had a right to know all that concerned her, as she was convinced they were her sincere friends. David read it aloud to Valentine and Cynthia; but how much were they surprised when they found the contents were as follows—
