My dear Pamela, said she, and kissed me, I don't know how I should act,
or what I should think. I hope I should act as you do. But I know nobody
else that would. My master is a fine gentleman; he has a great deal of
wit and sense, and is admired, as I know, by half a dozen ladies, who
would think themselves happy in his addresses. He has a noble estate;
and yet I believe he loves my good maiden, though his servant, better
than all the ladies in the land; and he has tried to overcome it,
because you are so much his inferior; and 'tis my opinion he finds he
can't; and that vexes his proud heart, and makes him resolve you shan't
stay; and so he speaks so cross to you, when he sees you by accident.
Well, but, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you, if he can stoop to like
such a poor girl as me, as perhaps he may, (for I have read of things
almost as strange, from great men to poor damsels,) What can it be
for?--He may condescend, perhaps, to think I may be good enough for his
harlot; and those things don't disgrace men that ruin poor women, as the
world goes. And so if I was wicked enough, he would keep me till I was
undone, and till his mind changed; for even wicked men, I have read,
soon grow weary of wickedness with the same person, and love variety.
Well, then, poor Pamela must be turned off, and looked upon as a vile
abandoned creature, and every body would despise her; ay, and justly
too, Mrs. Jervis; for she that can't keep her virtue, ought to live in
disgrace. But, Mrs. Jervis, I continued, let me tell you, that I hope, if I was
sure he would always be kind to me, and never turn me off at all, that I
shall have so much grace, as to hate and withstand his temptations, were
he not only my master, but my king: and that for the sin's sake. This
my poor dear parents have always taught me; and I should be a sad wicked
creature indeed, if, for the sake of riches or favour, I should forfeit
my good name; yea, and worse than any other young body of my sex;
because I can so contentedly return to my poverty again, and think it
a less disgrace to be obliged to wear rags, and live upon rye-bread and
water, as I used to do, than to be a harlot to the greatest man in the
world. Mrs. Jervis lifted up her hands, and had her eyes full of tears.
God bless you, my dear love! said she; you are my admiration and
delight.--How shall I do to part with you!