# The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 19

CHAPTER VIII
a continuation of cynthia's story
The next evening, after the usual civilities had passed between David and Cynthia, she, at his request, went on with her story.
"I spent the whole time I was abroad in misery; because my Lady ——— chose to see me unhappy, and sighing at her tyranny, instead of viewing me always (which she might have done) with cheerful looks, and a countenance expressive of the most grateful acknowledgments, for owing a life of ease and plenty to her benevolence."
David, whose only pleasure was in giving it to others, was more amazed at this account of my Lady ———'s behaviour, than he would have been at the most surprising phenomenon in nature: but he had so much curiosity to know the end of Cynthia's story, that he would not interrupt her; and she went on as follows———
"Since our arrival in England, an accident has happened to me, which was as little thought on as wished for. My Lady ——— has a nephew of about seventeen years of age, who, after the death of his father, will be Earl of ———, with a great estate. This young man took such a fancy to me, that the very first opportunity he had of speaking to me alone, he made me a proposal of marriage. This is, in my opinion, a very odd way of proceeding; but it is not very uncommon amongst men who think themselves so much above us, that there is no danger of a refusal; and consequently that they may be excused the usual forms on such occasions. I was at first so surprised, I knew not what to answer; but as soon as I could recollect my thoughts, and revolve in my mind the situation I was in, I told him that I was infinitely obliged to him for his good opinion ​of me; but that as I lived in my Lady ———'s house, I should think myself guilty of the utmost treachery, to marry so near a relation of her's without her consent; and as in my circumstances I was not likely to obtain that, I begged him to give up all thoughts of it. The more I refused him, the more earnest he was with me to comply: but while we were talking, my Lady ——— entered the room. I could not help blushing and looking confused, and my Lord ——— was almost as much so as myself. She has very penetrating eyes, and immediately saw something extraordinary had happened. However, she said nothing till my Lord was gone, when she insisted on knowing the whole truth; and was so very pressing, that at last I told it her. As I had nothing I had any reason to be ashamed of, but acted (as I thought) with great honour towards my Lady ———, I had no suspicion, that letting her know her nephew liked me, could possibly turn out to my disadvantage. But the moment I had complied with her desire, in openly declaring the cause of that confusion she had observed in us both at her entrance, she flew into as great a rage as if I had been guilty of the worst of crimes; talked in her usual style of my ingratitude; said, it was a fine return for all her kindness, to endeavour to draw in her nephew to marry me. All I could say or do, could not pacify her. She immediately sent to my lord's father, who carried his son out of town, and intends to send him abroad, in order to prevent his seeing me any more.
"And now I am to be used ten times worse than ever I was: but I shall not bear it much longer; for let the consequence be what it will, I am sure I cannot lead a more unhappy life than I do at present. I verily believe, if my Lord was to marry any other woman without a fortune, it would not give her half the uneasiness; but to think that ​a person, whom she has so long looked on as her subject, should have an opportunity of becoming her equal, is more than she can bear. Thus, sir, I am come to the end of my story: I wish there was anything more entertaining in it; but your desiring to know it appeared to me to arise from so much good-nature and compassion for the afflicted, I could not refuse to gratify your curiosity."
David assured her, if it was any way in his power to serve her, he should have the utmost pleasure in doing it, and that if she thought it proper to leave my Lady ———, and go into a lodging by herself, he would supply her with whatever she wanted: that she had no reason to be afraid that he should upbraid her with being obliged to him; for that, on the contrary, he should be thankful to her for giving him an opportunity of being any ways useful to a person of her merit; for that he had observed the world in general was so very mercenary, he could not help being at once pleased and surprised, to find a person of her age, and in her circumstances, who had resolution enough to think of refusing any offer that was for her advantage, from a notion of honour.
Whilst they were in this discourse, my Lady ———, who had altered her mind, and did not stay out of town as long as she at first intended, returned home. David thinking he might be troublesome at her first coming off her journey, soon retired; and the moment he was gone, my Lady ——— vented all the most ill-natured reproaches on poor Cynthia she could think on; saying, she supposed now her house was to be made the receptacle for all the young fellows in town—that she was sure there must be something very forward in her behaviour, for it could not be her beauty that drew men after her.—In short, she treated her as if she had been the most infamous creature alive; nor did she scruple this before all the servants in her house. I suppose, ​besides her natural love of tyranny, she was one of those sort of women, who, like Venus in Telemachus, lose the pleasure of their numberless votaries, if one mortal escapes their snares. Besides, she thought it insupportable, that a wretch, whom she looked upon to be so much below her as Cynthia, should have any charms at all.
The next day, David went to see her again; and as my Lady was gone to make a visit, he met with Cynthia alone: he found her dissolved in tears, and in such an agony, that she was hardly able to speak to him; at last, however, she informed him in what manner my Lady {{longdash} had used her, because he happened to be there when she came home. David begged her not to bear this treatment any longer, but to accept his offer; and assured her, he would both protect and support her, if she would give him leave. Cynthia was charmed with his generous manner of offering to assist her; but said, her case was the most to be lamented in the world; for that if she accepted what he with so much good-nature offered her, it would be in my Lady 's power (and she was certain it would be in her will) to make her infamous. But on an assurance from David, that he would submit to what rules she pleased, supply her with whatever she wanted, and at the same time deny himself even the pleasure of seeing her, she thought it proper, she at last consented, and they consulted together the method they should take. I They agreed that Cynthia should leave a place she so much detested, as the house where she then was, the next day. But she said she would acquaint my Lady ——— with her resolution, that it might not look like running away from her; she was very sensible she must bear great invectives and reproaches; but, however, she thought she should be able to go through them, as she hoped it would be tha last time.
​David was to take her a lodging, and send her word by some woman where it was, that she might go to it without his appearing in the affair. When they had settled every thing to their satisfaction, he took his leave, that he might not be there when my Lady ——— came home. Now the anxiety was over, for the perplexity which is caused by not knowing how to act, is the greatest torment imaginable; but as Cynthia had fixed her resolution, her mind was calmer, and her countenance more cheerful than it had been for some time. My Lady ——— designed thet evening to use her very well, which she generally did once a week or fortnight, as if she laid a plot sometimes just to give her a taste of pleasure, only to make her feel the want of it the more. But when she saw her look pleased, and, on enquiry, found that David had been there, her designs were altered, and she could not forbear abusing her. But the moment she began, Cynthia, instead of keeping her usual silence, intreated her to give her one quarter of an hour's attention; which, after two or three speeches, which my Lady ——— thought witticisms (such as, that what she said must be worth hearkening to; that may be her new gallant had put some fresh nonsense in her head) was at last obtained. When Cynthia began as follows—
"I confess, madam, you took me from poverty and distress, and gave me plenty; I own the obligation, nor have I ever, even in my thoughts, tried to lessen it. The moment pride makes any of us wish or endeavour, by the power of imagination and fallacy, to lose the sense of favours conferred on us, all gratitude must necessarily be at an end. Had you behaved to me, as I first flattered myself you intended, your ladyship in me might have had a willing slave: I should have thought my life would have been but a small sacrifice, could any interest of yours have required it. Nay, I have already done ​more; I have given up my youth, the time which is the most valuable in life, to please all your whims, and comply with all your humours. You have chose, that instead of looking on you as my generous benefactress, I should find you an arbitrary tyrant; the laws of England will not suffer you to make slaves of your servants, nor will I bear it any longer. I am certain, the meanest person in your house has not gone through half what I have done for bread; and, in short, madam, here your power is at an end, to-morrow I shall take my leave of you: I cannot help wishing you happy, but must own, I heartily hope you will never have anybody so much in your power again."
My lady, who had been used to be treated by everything in her house (her husband not excepted) with the greatest deference, swelled and reddened at this discourse of Cynthia's; till at last, for want of words to vent her rage, she burst into tears, Cynthia, whose good-nature nothing could exceed, thinking this arose from my lady's consciousness of her own wrong behaviour, was softened, and threw herself at her feet; asked ten thousand pardons; said, if she could have guessed the effect what she said would have had on her, she would sooner have been for ever dumb, than have uttered a word to offend her. But, alas! how was she mistaken! For as soon as my Lady ———'s tears had made way for her words, she fell upon her with all the most bitter invectives she could think of, and even descended so far as to forget her quality (which was seldom out of her thoughts) and use the most vulgar terms, in order to abuse her. Cynthia, who had a I great aversion to all broils and quarrels, seeing her passion was so high, said no more, but let her rail on till it was time to go to bed.
When Cynthia waked the next morning, she thought she had now performed her duty in ​informing 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, ​a person whom she has often mentioned in the foregoing part of this history.
David, although it was with great regret he parted with her, did not attempt to say anything to dissuade her from what he saw she had so great an inclination to; only insisted on her accepting money enough to bear her expenses. This she would not have done on any other consideration, but that of seeing he would be very uneasy if she refused him. And here, for the present, we must take our leave of Cynthia.
David's stay with Varnish was but of small duration; for although he was agreeably entertained, by continually hearing the praises of all the company they met with; yet he could not help observing, that notwithstanding the appearance of good-nature which showed itself in Varnish, yet, in reality, he was not at all affected with others' sufferings. His mother lived with him; and he showed her so much respect, and treated her with so much complaisance, that David at first thought he loved her with the greatest tenderness; but as this poor woman was afflicted with the stone and gout to such a degree, as often threw her into violent agonies, it gave David an opportunity of observing, that in the midst of her groans, which often pierced him to the soul, Varnish preserved his usual serenity of countenance, nor did the gaiety of his temper fail him in the least. This reminded him of the character which Spatter had given of him, viz., that he kept up an eternal cheerfulness, only because he had none of those sensations which arise from good-nature; and made David resolve not to live with a man he could not esteem, which was the point he was always aiming at; and although he had met with so many disappointments, he was not yet drove to despair, but went on in his pursuit.