If I had been able to reflect seriously on Captain Turnham's behaviour, I ought to have thought myself fortunate in having so long enjoyed his affections: Few men shew so much constancy; but the fate of others seldom prepares us for our own.

Tho’ I had cause to grieve, I had none to complain; for the Captain's indifference, which came by degrees, was only the common weakness of human nature: But he always behaved to me with regard and civility; and continued humane, tho’ he ceased to be tender.

This was more conducive to his honour than to my peace; for my affection was unabated; and mere humanity is but an unsatisfactory return for extreme love. But I did not from this receive more pain than from my pride, which now felt I was supported by his charity: While he was attached to me, he was insensible to the diminution of his fortune; but when it continued to lessen, without yielding him any gratification, he could not but be uneasy at it.

For a long time I appeared blind to this alteration, fearing to turn indifference into dislike, and that my company, which was now only dull to him, should become irksome; but at last, when I saw he grew alarmed at the decrease of his fortune, I could not help offering to deliver him from so great a burden, assuring him, that I had rather venture any distress, than bring him into difficulties.

Captain Turnham, with an appearance of real regard and generosity, in-treated me never to mention such a thought any more; for that he would always share his fortune with me; and felt too much gratitude for the attachment I had shewn him, ever to let me suffer by it, in any respect from which he could save me; and that if time had cooled his passion, nothing should ever extinguish his generosity.

I could not deny there being a great deal in his proceeding; but the most delicate generosity is known by few.