althoug he imputed Camilla's thoughfulness to het love for her brother, and was not ignorant whence his concern arose, sat so heavy on his mind as gave him great uneasiness; for he felt all the pains of his friends to a much greater degree than be did his own. He therefore did all he could to comfort Valentine; told him he did not doubt but Cynthia would immediately answer Camilla's letter; with some hints that he himself might be the cause of her refusing all offers; and assured him, if his fortune could any way conduce to his happiness, whatever share of it was necessary for him should be entirely at his service.
Valentine was struck dumb with this generosity. Tenderness and gratitude for such uncommon benevolence was to be answered no other way but by flowing tears. David saw his confusion, and begged him not to fancy he was under any obligation to him, for that he should think his life and fortune well spent in the service of a man whom both nature and goodness had so nearly allied to Camilla. Valentine at last with much difficulty found a vent for his words, and swore no passion of his should ever make him a greater burden than he already was to such a friend. Camilla, between the concern for her brother and the pleasure David's words gave her, was quite overcome. But as tenderness, when it is come to the height, is not to be described, I shall pass over the rest of this scene in silence.
Valentine's impatience increased every day to hear from Cynthia; a week passed over, and no news of her: at last, one day as David was walking through Westminster, he heard a voice which called him by his name; and when he looked up, he saw Cynthia looking out at an upper window. He immediately ran into the house, and great were his raptures at the thoughts of the pleasure he should
