The maid Nan is a little apt to drink, if she can get at liquor; and

Mrs. Jewkes happened, or designed, as is too probable, to leave a bottle

of cherry-brandy in her way, and the wench drank some of it more than

she should; and when she came in to lay the cloth, Mrs. Jewkes perceived

it, and fell a rating at her most sadly; for she has too many faults

of her own, to suffer any of the like sort in any body else, if she can

help it; and she bid her get out of her sight, when we had supped, and

go to bed, to sleep off her liquor, before we came to bed. And so the

poor maid went muttering up stairs.

About two hours after, which was near eleven o'clock, Mrs. Jewkes and

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I went up to go to bed; I pleasing myself with what a charming night I

should have. We locked both doors, and saw poor Nan, as I thought, (but,

oh! 'twas my abominable master, as you shall hear by and by,) sitting

fast asleep, in an elbow-chair, in a dark corner of the room, with her

apron thrown over her head and neck. And Mrs. Jewkes said, There is that

beast of a wench fast asleep, instead of being a-bed! I knew, said she,

she had taken a fine dose. I'll wake her, said I. No, don't, said she;

let her sleep on; we shall he better without her. Ay, said I, so we

shall; but won't she get cold? Said she, I hope you have no writing to-night. No, replied I, I will go

to bed with you, Mrs. Jewkes. Said she, I wonder what you can find to

write about so much! and am sure you have better conveniences of that

kind, and more paper than I am aware of; and I had intended to rummage

you, if my master had not come down; for I spied a broken tea-cup with

ink, which gave me suspicion: but as he is come, let him look after you,

if he will; and if you deceive him, it will be his own fault. All this time we were undressing ourselves: And I fetched a deep sigh!

What do you sigh for? said she. I am thinking, Mrs. Jewkes, answered

I, what a sad life I live, and how hard is my lot. I am sure, the thief

that has robbed is much better off than I, 'bating the guilt; and I

should, I think, take it for a mercy, to be hanged out of the way,

rather than live in these cruel apprehensions. So, being not sleepy, and

in a prattling vein, I began to give a little history of myself, as I

did, once before, to Mrs. Jervis; in this manner: Here, said I, were my poor honest parents; they took care to instill

good principles into my mind, till I was almost twelve years of age;

and taught me to prefer goodness and poverty to the highest condition of

life; and they confirmed their lessons by their own practice; for they

were, of late years, remarkably poor, and always as remarkably honest,

even to a proverb: for, As honest as goodman ANDREWS, was a byeword. Well then, said I, comes my late dear good lady, and takes a fancy to

me, and said, she would be the making of me, if I was a good girl; and

she put me to sing, to dance, to play on the spinnet, in order to divert

her melancholy hours; and also taught me all manner of fine needle-work;

but still this was her lesson, My good Pamela, be virtuous, and keep the

men at a distance. Well, so I was, I hope, and so I did; and yet, though

I say it, they all loved me and respected me; and would do any thing for

me, as if I was a gentlewoman. But, then, what comes next?--Why, it pleased God to take my good lady:

and then comes my master: And what says he?--Why, in effect, it is, Be

not virtuous, Pamela. So here I have lived about sixteen years in virtue and reputation; and

all at once, when I come to know what is good, and what is evil, I must

renounce all the good, all the whole sixteen years' innocence, which,

next to God's grace, I owed chiefly to my parents, and my lady's good

lessons and examples, and choose the evil; and so, in a moment's time,

become the vilest of creatures! And all this, for what, I pray? Why,

truly, for a pair of diamond ear-rings, a necklace, and a diamond ring

for my finger; which would not become me: For a few paltry fine

clothes, which, when I wore them, would make but my former poverty more

ridiculous to every body that saw me; especially when they knew the base

terms I wore them upon. But, indeed, I was to have a great parcel of

guineas beside; I forget how many; for, had there been ten times more,

they would have been not so much to me, as the honest six guineas you

tricked me out of, Mrs. Jewkes. Well, forsooth! but then I was to have I know not how many pounds a year

for my life; and my poor father (there was the jest of it!) was to be

the manager for the abandoned prostitute his daughter: And then, (there

was the jest again!) my kind, forgiving, virtuous master, would pardon

me all my misdeeds! Yes, thank him for nothing, truly. And what, pray, are all these violent

misdeeds?--Why, they are for daring to adhere to the good lessons that

were taught me; and not learning a new one, that would have reversed all

my former: For not being contented when I was run away with, in order to

be ruined; but contriving, if my poor wits had been able, to get out of

danger, and preserve myself honest. Then was he once jealous of poor John, though he knew John was his own

creature, and helped to deceive me. Then was he outrageous against poor Parson Williams! and him has this

good, merciful master, thrown into gaol; and for what? Why, truly, for

that, being a divine, and a good man, he had the fear of God before his

eyes, and was willing to forego all his expectations of interest, and

assist an oppressed poor creature. But, to be sure, I must be forward, bold, saucy, and what not! to dare

to run away from certain ruin, and to strive to escape from an unjust

confinement; and I must be married to the parson, nothing so sure! He would have had but a poor catch of me, had I consented: But he, and

you too, know I did not want to marry any body. I only wanted to go to

my poor parents, and to have my own liberty, and not to be confined by

such an unlawful restraint; and which would not have been inflicted upon

me, but only that I am a poor, destitute, young body, and have no friend

that is able to right me. So, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, here is my history in brief. And I am a very

unhappy young creature, to be sure!--And why am I so?--Why, because my

master sees something in my person that takes his present fancy; and

because I would not be undone.--Why, therefore to choose, I must, and I

shall be undone!--And this is all the reason that can be given! She heard me run on all this time, while I was undressing, without any

interruption; and I said, Well, I must go to the two closets, ever since

an affair of the closet at the other house, though he is so far off. And

I have a good mind to wake this poor maid. No, don't, said she, I charge

you. I am very angry with her, and she'll get no harm there; and if she

wakes, she may come to bed well enough, as long as there is a candle in

the chimney. So I looked into the closet, and kneeled down in my own, as I used to

do, to say my prayers, and this with my underclothes in my hand, all

undressed; and passed by the poor sleeping wench, as I thought, in my

return. But, oh! little did I think it was my wicked, wicked master, in

a gown and petticoat of hers, and her apron over his face and shoulders.

What meanness will not Lucifer make his votaries stoop to, to gain their

abominable ends! Mrs. Jewkes, by this time, was got to bed, on the farther side, as she

used to be; and, to make room for the maid, when she should awake, I got

into bed, and lay close to her. And I said, Where are the keys? though,

said I, I am not so much afraid to-night. Here, said the wicked woman,

put your arm under mine, and you shall find them about my wrist, as they

used to be. So I did, and the abominable designer held my hand with her

right-hand, as my right-arm was under her left. In less than a quarter of an hour, I said, There's poor Nan awake; I

hear her stir. Let us go to sleep, said she, and not mind her: she'll

come to bed, when she's quite awake. Poor soul! said I, I'll warrant she

will have the head-ache finely to-morrow for this! Be silent, said

she, and go to sleep; you keep me awake; and I never found you in so

talkative a humour in my life. Don't chide me, said I; I will but say

one thing more: Do you think Nan could hear me talk of my master's

offers? No, no, said she; she was dead asleep. I'm glad of that, said I;

because I would not expose my master to his common servants; and I knew

you were no stranger to his fine articles. Said she, I think they were

fine articles, and you were bewitched you did not close with them: But

let us go to sleep. So I was silent; and the pretended Nan (O wicked,

base, villanous designer! what a plot, what an unexpected plot was

this!) seemed to be awaking; and Mrs. Jewkes, abhorrent creature! said,

Come, Nan!--what, are you awake at last?--Pr'ythee come to bed; for Mrs.

Pamela is in a talking fit, and won't go to sleep one while. At that, the pretended she came to the bed side; and, sitting down in

a chair, where the curtain hid her, began to undress. Said I, Poor Mrs.

Anne, I warrant your head aches most sadly! How do you do? Says he, One word with you, Pamela; one word hear me but; I must say one

word to you, it is this: You see now you are in my power!--You cannot

get from me, nor help yourself: Yet have I not offered any thing amiss

to you. But if you resolve not to comply with my proposals, I will not

lose this opportunity: If you do, I will yet leave you. O sir, said I, leave me, leave me but, and I will do any thing I ought

to do.--Swear then to me, said he, that you will accept my proposals!

With struggling, fright, terror, I fainted away quite, and did not come

to myself soon, so that they both, from the cold sweats that I was in,

thought me dying.--And I remember no more, than that, when with great

difficulty they brought me to myself, she was sitting on one side of the

bed, with her clothes on; and he on the other with his, and in his gown

and slippers. Your poor Pamela cannot answer for the liberties taken with her in her

deplorable state of death. And when I saw them there, I sat up in my

bed, without any regard to what appearance I made, and nothing about my

neck; and he soothing me, with an aspect of pity and concern, I put my

hand to his mouth, and said, O tell me, yet tell me not, what have I

suffered in this distress? And I talked quite wild, and knew not what:

for, to be sure, I was on the point of distraction. He most solemnly, and with a bitter imprecation, vowed, that he had

not offered the least indecency; that he was frightened at the terrible

manner I was taken with the fit: that he should desist from his attempt;

and begged but to see me easy and quiet, and he would leave me directly,

and go to his own bed. O then, said I, take with you this most wicked

woman, this vile Mrs. Jewkes, as an earnest, that I may believe you! And will you, sir, said the wicked wretch, for a fit or two, give up

such an opportunity as this?--I thought you had known the sex better.

She is now, you see, quite well again! This I heard; more she might say; but I fainted away once more, at these

words, and at his clasping his arms about me again. And, when I came

a little to myself, I saw him sit there, and the maid Nan, holding a

smelling-bottle to my nose, and no Mrs. Jewkes. He said, taking my hand, Now will I vow to you, my dear Pamela, that

I will leave you the moment I see you better, and pacified. Here's Nan

knows, and will tell you, my concern for you. I vow to God, I have

not offered any indecency to you: and, since I found Mrs. Jewkes so

offensive to you, I have sent her to the maid's bed, and the maid

shall be with you to-night. And but promise me, that you will compose

yourself, and I will leave you. But, said I, will not Nan also hold my

hand? And will not she let you come in again to me?--He said, By heaven!

I will not come in again to-night. Nan, undress yourself, go to bed, and

do all you can to comfort the dear creature: And now, Pamela, said he,

give me but your hand, and say you forgive me, and I will leave you to

your repose. I held out my trembling hand, which he vouchsafed to kiss;

and I said, God forgive you, sir, as you have been just in my distress;

and as you will be just to what you promise! And he withdrew, with a

countenance of remorse, as I hoped; and she shut the doors, and, at my

request, brought the keys to bed. This, O my dear parents! was a most dreadful trial. I tremble still to

think of it; and dare not recall all the horrid circumstances of it. I

hope, as he assures me, he was not guilty of indecency; but have reason

to bless God, who, by disabling me in my faculties, empowered me to

preserve my innocence; and, when all my strength would have signified

nothing, magnified himself in my weakness. I was so weak all day on Monday, that I could not get out of my bed. My

master shewed great tenderness for me; and I hope he is really sorry,

and that this will be his last attempt; but he does not say so neither. He came in the morning, as soon as he heard the door open and I began to

be fearful. He stopped short of the bed, and said, Rather than give you

apprehensions, I will come no farther. I said, Your honour, sir, and

your mercy, is all I have to beg. He sat himself on the side of the bed,

and asked kindly, how I did?--begged me to be composed; said, I still

looked a little wildly. And I said, Pray, good sir, let me not see this

infamous Mrs. Jewkes; I doubt I cannot bear her sight. She shan't come

near you all this day, if you'll promise to compose yourself. Then,

sir, I will try. He pressed my hand very tenderly, and went out. What a

change does this shew!--O may it be lasting!--But, alas! he seems only

to have altered his method of proceeding; and retains, I doubt, his

wicked purpose. On Tuesday, about ten o'clock, when my master heard I was up, he sent

for me down into the parlour. As soon as he saw me, he said, Come nearer

to me, Pamela. I did so, and he took my hand, and said, You begin to

look well again: I am glad of it. You little slut, how did you frighten

me on Sunday night. Sir, said I, pray name not that night; and my eyes overflowed at the

remembrance, and I turned my head aside. Said he, Place some little confidence in me: I know what those charming

eyes mean, and you shall not need to explain yourself: for I do assure

you, that as soon as I saw you change, and a cold sweat bedew your

pretty face, and you fainted away, I quitted the bed, and Mrs. Jewkes

did so too. And I put on my gown, and she fetched her smelling-bottle,

and we both did all we could to restore you; and my passion for you was

all swallowed up in the concern I had for your recovery; for I thought

I never saw a fit so strong and violent in my life: and feared we should

not bring you to life again; for what I saw you in once before was

nothing to it. This, said he, might be my folly, and my unacquaintedness

with what passion your sex can shew when they are in earnest. But this

I repeat to you, that your mind may be entirely comforted--Whatever I

offered to you, was before you fainted away, and that, I am sure, was

innocent. Sir, said I, that was very bad: and it was too plain you had the worst

designs. When, said he, I tell you the truth in one instance, you may

believe me in the other. I know not, I declare, beyond this lovely

bosom, your sex: but that I did intend what you call the worst is most

certain: and though I would not too much alarm you now, I could curse my

weakness, and my folly, which makes me own, that I love you beyond all

your sex, and cannot live without you. But if I am master of myself, and

my own resolution, I will not attempt to force you to any thing again. Sir, said I, you may easily keep your resolution, if you'll send me out

of your way, to my poor parents; that is all I beg. 'Tis a folly to talk of it, said he. You must not, shall not go! And

if I could be assured you would not attempt it, you should have better

usage, and your confinement should be made easier to you. But to what end, sir, am I to stay? said I: You yourself seem not sure

you can keep your own present good resolutions; and do you think, if I

was to stay, when I could get away, and be safe, it would not look,

as if either I confided too much in my own strength, or would tempt my

ruin? And as if I was not in earnest to wish myself safe, and out of

danger?--And then, how long am I to stay? And to what purpose? And

in what light must I appear to the world? Would not that censure me,

although I might be innocent? And you will allow, sir, that, if there be

any thing valuable or exemplary in a good name, or fair reputation, one

must not despise the world's censure, if one can avoid it. Well, said he, I sent not for you on this account, just now; but for two

reasons. The first is, That you promise me, that for a fortnight to come

you will not offer to go away without my express consent; and this I

expect for your own sake, that I may give you a little more liberty. And

the second is, That you will see and forgive Mrs. Jewkes: she takes

on much, and thinks that, as all her fault was her obedience to me,

it would be very hard to sacrifice her, as she calls it, to your

resentment. As to the first, sir, said I, it is a hard injunction, for the reasons

I have mentioned. And as to the second, considering her vile, unwomanly

wickedness, and her endeavours to instigate you more to ruin me, when

your returning goodness seemed to have some compassion upon me, it is

still harder. But, to shew my obedience to your commands, (for you know,

my dear parents, I might as well make a merit of my compliance, when

my refusal would stand me in no stead,) I will consent to both; and to

every thing else, that you shall be pleased to enjoin, which I can do,

with innocence. That's my good girl! said he, and kissed me: This is quite prudent, and

shews me, that you don't take insolent advantage of my favour for you;

and will, perhaps, stand you in more stead than you are aware of. So he rung the bell, and said, Call down Mrs. Jewkes. She came down,

and he took my hand, and put it into hers; and said, Mrs. Jewkes, I am

obliged to you for all your diligence and fidelity to me; but Pamela, I

must own, is not; because the service I employed you in was not so very

obliging to her, as I could have wished she would have thought it: and

you were not to favour her, but obey me. But yet I'll assure you, at the

very first word, she has once obliged me, by consenting to be friends

with you; and if she gives me no great cause, I shall not, perhaps, put

you on such disagreeable service again.--Now, therefore, be you once

more bed-fellows and board-fellows, as I may say, for some days longer;

and see that Pamela sends no letters nor messages out of the house, nor

keeps a correspondence unknown to me, especially with that Williams;

and, as for the rest, shew the dear girl all the respect that is due to

one I must love, if she will deserve it, as I hope she will yet; and let

her be under no unnecessary or harsh restraints. But your watchful care

is not, however, to cease: and remember that you are not to disoblige

me, to oblige her; and that I will not, cannot, yet part with her. Mrs. Jewkes looked very sullen, and as if she would be glad still to do

me a good turn, if it lay in her power. I took courage then to drop a word or two for poor Mr. Williams; but he

was angry with me for it, and said he could not endure to hear his name

in my mouth; so I was forced to have done for that time. All this time, my papers, that I buried under the rose-bush, lay there

still; and I begged for leave to send a letter to you. So I should, he

said, if he might read it first. But this did not answer my design; and

yet I would have sent you such a letter as he might see, if I had been

sure my danger was over. But that I cannot; for he now seems to take

another method, and what I am more afraid of, because, may be, he may

watch an opportunity, and join force with it, on occasion, when I am

least prepared: for now he seems to abound with kindness, and talks

of love without reserve, and makes nothing of allowing himself in the

liberty of kissing me, which he calls innocent; but which I do not like,

and especially in the manner he does it: but for a master to do it at

all to a servant, has meaning too much in it, not to alarm an honest

body. Wednesday morning. I find I am watched and suspected still very close; and I wish I was

with you; but that must not be, it seems, this fortnight. I don't like

this fortnight; and it will be a tedious and a dangerous one to me, I

doubt. My master just now sent for me down to take a walk with him in the

garden: but I like him not at all, nor his ways; for he would have, all

the way, his arm about my waist, and said abundance of fond things to

me, enough to make me proud, if his design had not been apparent. After

walking about, he led me into a little alcove, on the farther part of

the garden; and really made me afraid of myself, for he began to be very

teasing, and made me sit on his knee; and was so often kissing me, that

I said, Sir, I don't like to be here at all, I assure you. Indeed you

make me afraid!--And what made me the more so, was what he once said

to Mrs. Jewkes, and did not think I heard him, and which, though always

uppermost with me, I did not mention before, because I did not know how

to bring it in, in my writing. She, I suppose, had been encouraging him in his wickedness; for it was

before the last dreadful trial: and I only heard what he answered. Said he, I will try once more; but I have begun wrong for I see terror

does but add to her frost; but she is a charming girl, and may be thawed

by kindness; and I should have melted her by love, instead of freezing

her by fear. Is he not a wicked, sad man for this?--To be sure, I blush while I write

it. But I trust, that that God, who has delivered me from the paw of the

lion and the bear; that is, his and Mrs. Jewkes's violences, will soon

deliver me from this Philistine, that I may not defy the commands of the

living God! But, as I was saying, this expression coming into my thoughts, I was

of opinion, I could not be too much on my guard, at all times: more

especially when he took such liberties: for he professed honour all the

time with his mouth, while his actions did not correspond. I begged and

prayed he would let me go: and had I not appeared quite regardless of

all he said, and resolved not to stay, if I could help it, I know not

how far he would have proceeded; for I was forced to fall down upon my

knees. At last he walked out with me, still bragging of his honour and his

love. Yes, yes, sir, said I, your honour is to destroy mine: and your

love is to ruin me; I see it too plainly. But, indeed, I will not talk

with you, sir, said I, any more. Do you know, said he, whom you talk to,

and where you are? You may believe I had reason to think him not so decent as he should be;

for I said, As to where I am, sir, I know it too well; and that I have

no creature to befriend me: and, as to whom I talk to, sir, let me ask

you, What you would have me answer? Why, tell me, said he, what answer you would make? It will only make you

angry, said I; and so I shall fare worse, if possible. I won't be angry,

said he. Why, then, sir, said I, you cannot be my late good lady's son;

for she loved me, and taught me virtue. You cannot then be my master;

for no master demeans himself so to his poor servant. He put his arm round me, and his other hand on my neck, which made

me more angry and bold: and he said, What then am I? Why, said I,

(struggling from him, and in a great passion,) to be sure you are

Lucifer himself, in the shape of my master, or you could not use me

thus. These are too great liberties, said he, in anger; and I desire

that you will not repeat them, for your own sake: For if you have no

decency towards me, I'll have none towards you. I was running from him, and he said, Come back, when I bid you.--So,

knowing every place was alike dangerous to me, and I had nobody to run

to, I came back, at his call; and seeing him look displeased, I held my

hands together, and wept, and said, Pray, sir, forgive me. No, said he,

rather say, Pray, Lucifer, forgive me! And, now, since you take me for

the devil, how can you expect any good from me?--How, rather, can you

expect any thing but the worst treatment from me?--You have given me a

character, Pamela; and blame me not that I act up to it. Sir, said I,

let me beg you to forgive me: I am really sorry for my boldness; but

indeed you don't use me like a gentleman: and how can I express my

resentment, if I mince the matter, while you are so indecent? Precise

fool! said he, what indecencies have I offered you?--I was bewitched

I had not gone through my purpose last Sunday night; and then your

licentious tongue had not given the worst name to little puny freedoms,

that shew my love and my folly at the same time. But, begone! said he,

taking my hand, and tossing it from him, and learn another conduct and

more wit; and I will lay aside my foolish regard for you, and assert

myself. Begone! said he, again, with a haughty air. Indeed, sir, said I, I cannot go, till you pardon me, which I beg on my

bended knees. I am truly sorry for my boldness.--But I see how you go

on: you creep by little and little upon me; and now soothe me, and now

threaten me; and if I should forbear to shew my resentment, when you

offer incivilities to me, would not that be to be lost by degrees? Would

it not shew, that I could bear any thing from you, if I did not express

all the indignation I could express, at the first approaches you make to

what I dread? And have you not as good as avowed my ruin?--And have you

once made me hope you will quit your purposes against me? How then, sir,

can I act, but by shewing my abhorrence of every step that makes towards

my undoing? And what is left me but words?--And can these words be other

than such strong ones, as shall shew the detestation which, from the

bottom of my heart, I have for every attempt upon my virtue? Judge for

me, sir, and pardon me. Pardon you! said he, What! when you don't repent?--When you have the

boldness to justify yourself in your fault? Why don't you say, you never

will again offend me? I will endeavour, sir, said I, always to preserve

that decency towards you which becomes me. But really, sir, I must beg

your excuse for saying, That when you forget what belongs to decency

in your actions, and when words are all that are left me, to shew my

resentment of such actions, I will not promise to forbear the strongest

expressions that my distressed mind shall suggest to me: nor shall your

angriest frowns deter me, when my honesty is in question. What, then, said he, do you beg pardon for? Where is the promise of

amendment, for which I should forgive you? Indeed, sir, said I, I own

that must absolutely depend on your usage of me: for I will bear any

thing you can inflict upon me with patience, even to the laying down

of my life, to shew my obedience to you in other cases; but I cannot be

patient, I cannot be passive, when my virtue is at stake! It would be

criminal in me, if I was. He said, he never saw such a fool in his life. And he walked by the side

of me some yards, without saying a word, and seemed vexed; and at last

walked in, bidding me attend him in the garden, after dinner. So having

a little time, I went up, and wrote thus far. Wednesday night. If, my dear parents, I am not destined more surely than ever for ruin,

I have now more comfort before me than ever I yet knew: and am either

nearer my happiness, or my misery, than ever I was. God protect me from

the latter, if it be his blessed will! I have now such a scene to open

to you, that, I know, will alarm both your hopes and your fears, as it

does mine. And this it is: After my master had dined, he took a turn into the stables, to look at

his stud of horses; and, when he came in, he opened the parlour-door,

where Mrs. Jewkes and I sat at dinner; and, at his entrance, we both

rose up; but he said, Sit still, sit still, and let me see how you eat

your victuals, Pamela. O, said Mrs. Jewkes, very poorly, indeed, sir!

No, said I, pretty well, sir, considering. None of your considerings,

said he, pretty face; and tapped me on the cheek. I blushed, but was

glad he was so good-humoured; but I could not tell how to sit before

him, nor to behave myself. So he said, I know, Pamela, you are a nice

carver: my mother used to say so. My lady, sir, said I, was very good to

me in every thing, and would always make me do the honours of her table

for her, when she was with her few select friends that she loved. Cut

up, said he, that chicken. I did so. Now, said he, and took a knife and

fork, and put a wing upon my plate, let me see you eat that. O sir, said

I, I have eaten a whole breast of a chicken already, and cannot eat so

much. But he said, I must eat it for his sake, and he would teach me to

eat heartily: So I did eat it; but was much confused at his so kind and

unusual freedom and condescension. And, good lack! you can't imagine how

Mrs. Jewkes looked and stared, and how respectful she seemed to me, and

called me good madam, I'll assure you, urging me to take a little bit of

tart. My master took two or three turns about the room, musing and thoughtful,

as I had never before seen him; and at last he went out, saying, I

am going into the garden: You know, Pamela, what I said to you before

dinner. I rose, and courtesied, saying, I would attend his honour; and

he said, Do, good girl! Well, said Mrs. Jewkes, I see how things will go. O, madam, as she

called me again, I am sure you are to be our mistress! And then I know

what will become of me. Ah Mrs. Jewkes, said I, if I can but keep myself

virtuous, 'tis the most of my ambition; and I hope, no temptation shall

make me otherwise. Notwithstanding I had no reason to be pleased with his treatment of me

before dinner, yet I made haste to attend him; and I found him walking

by the side of that pond, which, for want of grace, and through a sinful

despondence, had like to have been so fatal to me, and the sight of

which, ever since, has been a trouble and reproach to me. And it was

by the side of this pond, and not far from the place where I had that

dreaded conflict, that my present hopes, if I am not to be deceived

again, began to dawn: which I presume to flatter myself with being

a happy omen for me, as if God Almighty would shew your poor sinful

daughter, how well I did to put my affiance in his goodness, and not

to throw away myself, because my ruin seemed inevitable, to my

short-sighted apprehension. So he was pleased to say, Well, Pamela, I am glad you are come of your

own accord, as I may say: give me your hand. I did so; and he looked

at me very steadily, and pressing my hand all the time, at last said, I

will now talk to you in a serious manner. You have a good deal of wit, a great deal of penetration, much beyond

your years, and, as I thought, your opportunities. You are possessed

of an open, frank, and generous mind; and a person so lovely, that you

excel all your sex, in my eyes. All these accomplishments have engaged

my affection so deeply, that, as I have often said, I cannot live

without you; and I would divide, with all my soul, my estate with you,

to make you mine upon my own terms. These you have absolutely rejected;

and that, though in saucy terms enough, yet in such a manner as makes

me admire you the more. Your pretty chit-chat to Mrs. Jewkes, the last

Sunday night, so innocent, and so full of beautiful simplicity, half

disarmed my resolution before I approached your bed: And I see you so

watchful over your virtue, that though I hoped to find it otherwise, I

cannot but confess my passion for you is increased by it. But now,

what shall I say farther, Pamela?--I will make you, though a party, my

adviser in this matter, though not, perhaps, my definitive judge. You know I am not a very abandoned profligate; I have hitherto been

guilty of no very enormous or vile actions. This of seizing you, and

confining you thus, may perhaps be one of the worst, at least to persons

of real innocence. Had I been utterly given up to my passions, I should

before now have gratified them, and not have shewn that remorse and

compassion for you, which have reprieved you, more than once, when

absolutely in my power; and you are as inviolate a virgin as you were

when you came into my house. But what can I do? Consider the pride of my condition. I cannot endure

the thought of marriage, even with a person of equal or superior degree

to myself; and have declined several proposals of that kind: How then,

with the distance between us in the world's judgment, can I think of

making you my wife?--Yet I must have you; I cannot bear the thoughts

of any other man supplanting me in your affections: and the very

apprehension of that has made me hate the name of Williams, and use him

in a manner unworthy of my temper. Now, Pamela, judge for me; and, since I have told you, thus candidly, my

mind, and I see yours is big with some important meaning, by your eyes,

your blushes, and that sweet confusion which I behold struggling in your

bosom, tell me, with like openness and candour, what you think I ought

to do, and what you would have me do. It is impossible for me to express the agitations of my mind, on this

unexpected declaration, so contrary to his former behaviour. His manner

too had something so noble, and so sincere, as I thought, that, alas for

me! I found I had need of all my poor discretion, to ward off the blow

which this treatment gave to my most guarded thoughts. I threw myself at

his feet; for I trembled, and could hardly stand: O sir, said I, spare

your poor servant's confusion! O spare the poor Pamela!--Speak out, said

he, and tell me, when I bid you, What you think I ought to do? I cannot

say what you ought to do, answered I: but I only beg you will not ruin

me; and, if you think me virtuous, if you think me sincerely honest, let

me go to my poor parents. I will vow to you, that I will never suffer

myself to be engaged without your approbation. Still he insisted upon a more explicit answer to his question, of what

I thought he ought to do. And I did, As to my poor thoughts of what you

ought to do, I must needs say, that indeed I think you ought to regard

the world's opinion, and avoid doing any thing disgraceful to your birth

and fortune; and, therefore, if you really honour the poor Pamela with

your respect, a little time, absence, and the conversation of worthier

persons of my sex, will effectually enable you to overcome a regard so

unworthy your condition: And this, good sir, is the best advice I can

offer. Charming creature! lovely Pamela! said he, (with an ardour that was

never before so agreeable to me,) this generous manner is of a piece

with all the rest of your conduct. But tell me, still more explicitly,

what you would advise me to, in the case. O, sir! said I, take not advantage of my credulity, and these my weak

moments: but were I the first lady in the land, instead of the poor

abject Pamela, I would, I could tell you. But I can say no more-O my dear father and mother! now I know you will indeed be concerned for

me;--for now I am for myself.--And now I begin to be afraid I know

too well the reason why all his hard trials of me, and my black

apprehensions, would not let me hate him. But be assured still, by God's grace, that I shall do nothing unworthy

of your Pamela; and if I find that he is still capable of deceiving me,

and that this conduct is only put on to delude me more, I shall think

nothing in this world so vile, and so odious; and nothing, if he be

not the worst of his kind, (as he says, and, I hope, he is not,) so

desperately guileful, as the heart of man. He generously said, I will spare your confusion, Pamela. But I hope I

may promise myself, that you can love me preferably to any other man;

and that no one in the world has had any share in your affections; for

I am very jealous of what I love; and if I thought you had a secret

whispering in your soul, that had not yet come up to a wish, for any

other man breathing, I should not forgive myself to persist in my

affection for you; nor you, if you did not frankly acquaint me with it. As I still continued on my knees, on the grass border by the pond-side,

he sat himself down on the grass by me, and took me in his arms: Why

hesitates my Pamela? said he.--Can you not answer me with truth, as I

wish? If you cannot, speak, and I will forgive you. O good sir, said I, it is not that; indeed it is not: but a frightful

word or two that you said to Mrs. Jewkes, when you thought I was not

in hearing, comes cross my mind; and makes me dread that I am in more

danger than ever I was in my life. You have never found me a common liar, said he, (too fearful and foolish

Pamela!) nor will I answer how long I may hold in my present mind; for

my pride struggles hard within me, I'll assure you; and if you doubt me,

I have no obligation to your confidence or opinion. But, at present, I

am really sincere in what I say: And I expect you will be so too; and

answer directly my question. I find, sir, said I, I know not myself; and your question is of such a

nature, that I only want to tell you what I heard, and to have your kind

answer to it; or else, what I have to say to your question, may pave the

way to my ruin, and shew a weakness that I did not believe was in me. Well, said he, you may say what you have overheard; for, in not

answering me directly, you put my soul upon the rack; and half the

trouble I have had with you would have brought to my arms one of the

finest ladies in England. O sir, said I, my virtue is as dear to me, as if I was of the highest

quality; and my doubts (for which you know I have had too much reason)

have made me troublesome. But now, sir, I will tell you what I heard,

which has given me great uneasiness. You talked to Mrs. Jewkes of having begun wrong with me, in trying to

subdue me with terror, and of frost, and such like--You remember it

well:--And that you would, for the future, change your conduct, and try

to melt me, that was your word, by kindness. I fear not, sir, the grace of God supporting me, that any acts of

kindness would make me forget what I owe to my virtue: but, sir, I may,

I find, be made more miserable by such acts, than by terror; because my

nature is too frank and open to make me wish to be ungrateful: and if I

should be taught a lesson I never yet learnt, with what regret should

I descend to the grave, to think that I could not hate my undoer: and

that, at the last great day, I must stand up as an accuser of the poor

unhappy soul, that I could wish it in my power to save! Exalted girl! said he, what a thought is that!--Why, now, Pamela, you

excel yourself! You have given me a hint that will hold me long. But,

sweet creature, said he, tell me what is this lesson, which you never

yet learnt, and which you are so afraid of learning? If, sir, said I, you will again generously spare my confusion, I need

not speak it: But this I will say, in answer to the question you seem

most solicitous about, that I know not the man breathing that I would

wish to be married to, or that ever I thought of with such an idea. I

had brought my mind so to love poverty, that I hoped for nothing but to

return to the best, though the poorest of parents; and to employ myself

in serving God, and comforting them; and you know not, sir, how you

disappointed those hopes, and my proposed honest pleasures, when you

sent me hither. Well then, said he, I may promise myself, that neither the parson, nor

any other man, is any the least secret motive to your steadfast refusal

of my offers? Indeed, sir, said I, you may; and, as you was pleased to

ask, I answer, that I have not the least shadow of a wish, or thought,

for any man living. But, said he, (for I am foolishly jealous, and yet it shews my fondness

for you,) have you not encouraged Williams to think you will have him?

Indeed, sir, said I, I have not; but the very contrary. And would you

not have had him, said he, if you had got away by his means? I had

resolved, sir, said I, in my mind, otherwise; and he knew it; and the

poor man--I charge you, said he, say not a word in his favour! You will

excite a whirlwind in my soul, if you name him with kindness; and then

you'll be borne away with the tempest. Sir, said I, I have done!--Nay, said he, but do not have done; let me

know the whole. If you have any regard for him, speak out; for it

would end fearfully for you, for me, and for him, if I found that you

disguised any secret of your soul from me, in this nice particular. Sir, said I, if I have ever given you cause to think me sincere--Say

then, said he, interrupting me with great vehemence, and taking both my

hands between his, Say, that you now, in the presence of God, declare

that you have not any the most hidden regard for Williams, or any other

man. Sir, said I, I do. As God shall bless me, and preserve my innocence,

I have not. Well, said he, I will believe you, Pamela; and in time,

perhaps, I may better bear that man's name. And, if I am convinced that

you are not prepossessed, my vanity makes me assured, that I need not

to fear a place in your esteem, equal, if not preferable, to any man in

England. But yet it stings my pride to the quick, that you was so easily

brought, and at such a short acquaintance, to run away with that college

novice! O good sir, said I, may I be heard one thing? And though I bring upon me

your highest indignation, I will tell you, perhaps, the unnecessary and

imprudent, but yet the whole truth. My honesty (I am poor and lowly, and am not entitled to call it honour)

was in danger. I saw no means of securing myself from your avowed

attempts. You had shewed you would not stick at little matters; and

what, sir, could any body have thought of my sincerity, in preferring

that to all other considerations, if I had not escaped from these

dangers, if I could have found any way for it?--I am not going to say

any thing for him; but, indeed, indeed, sir, I was the cause of putting

him upon assisting me in my escape. I got him to acquaint me what gentry

there were in the neighbourhood that I might fly to; and prevailed

upon him--Don't frown at me, good sir; for I must tell you the whole

truth--to apply to one Lady Jones; to Lady Darnford; and he was so good

to apply to Mr. Peters, the minister: But they all refused me; and then

it was he let me know, that there was no honourable way but marriage.

That I declined; and he agreed to assist me for God's sake. Now, said he, you are going--I boldly put my hand before his mouth,

hardly knowing the liberty I took: Pray, sir, said I, don't be angry;

I have just done--I would only say, that rather than have staid to be

ruined, I would have thrown myself upon the poorest beggar that ever the

world saw, if I thought him honest.--And I hope, when you duly weigh all

matters, you will forgive me, and not think me so bold, and so forward,

as you have been pleased to call me. Well, said he, even in this your last speech, which, let me tell you,

shews more your honesty of heart than your prudence, you have not

over-much pleased me. But I must love you; and that vexes me not a

little. But tell me, Pamela, for now the former question recurs: Since

you so much prize your honour, and your virtue; since all attempts

against that are so odious to you; and since I have avowedly made

several of these attempts, do you think it is possible for you to love

me preferably to any other of my sex? Ah, sir! said I, and here my doubt recurs, that you may thus graciously

use me, to take advantage of my credulity. Still perverse and doubting! said he--Cannot you take me as I am at

present? And that, I have told you, is sincere and undesigning, whatever

I may be hereafter. Ah, sir! replied I, what can I say? I have already said too much, if

this dreadful hereafter should take place. Don't bid me say how well I

can--And then, my face glowing as the fire, I, all abashed, leaned upon

his shoulder, to hide my confusion. He clasped me to him with great ardour, and said, Hide your dear face in

my bosom, my beloved Pamela! your innocent freedoms charm me!--But then

say, How well--what? If you will be good, said I, to your poor servant, and spare her, I

cannot say too much! But if not, I am doubly undone!--Undone indeed! Said he, I hope my present temper will hold; for I tell you frankly,

that I have known, in this agreeable hour, more sincere pleasure than

I have experienced in all the guilty tumults that my desiring soul

compelled me into, in the hopes of possessing you on my own terms. And,

Pamela, you must pray for the continuance of this temper; and I hope

your prayers will get the better of my temptations. This sweet goodness overpowered all my reserves. I threw myself at his

feet, and embraced his knees: What pleasure, sir, you give me at these

gracious words, is not lent your poor servant to express!--I shall be

too much rewarded for all my sufferings, if this goodness hold! God

grant it may, for your own soul's sake as well as mine. And oh! how

happy should I be, if---He stopt me, and said, But, my dear girl, what must we do about the

world, and the world's censure? Indeed, I cannot marry! Now was I again struck all of a heap. However, soon recollecting myself,

Sir, said I, I have not the presumption to hope such an honour. If I may

be permitted to return in peace and safety to my poor parents, to pray

for you there, it is all I at present request! This, sir, after all my

apprehensions and dangers, will be a great pleasure to me. And, if I

know my own poor heart, I shall wish you happy in a lady of suitable

degree; and rejoice most sincerely in every circumstance that shall make

for the happiness of my late good lady's most beloved son. Well, said he, this conversation, Pamela, is gone farther than I

intended it. You need not be afraid, at this rate, of trusting yourself

with me: but it is I that ought to be doubtful of myself, when I am with

you.--But before I say any thing farther on this subject, I will take

my proud heart to task; and, till then, let every thing be as if this

conversation had never passed. Only, let me tell you, that the more

confidence you place in me, the more you'll oblige me: but your doubts

will only beget cause of doubts. And with this ambiguous saying, he

saluted me with a more formal manner, if I may so say, than before, and

lent me his hand; and so we walked toward the house, side by side, he

seeming very thoughtful and pensive, as if he had already repented him

of his goodness. What shall I do, what steps take, if all this be designing--O the

perplexities of these cruel doubtings!--To be sure, if he be false, as

I may call it, I have gone too far, much too far!--I am ready, on the

apprehension of this, to bite my forward tongue (or rather to beat my

more forward heart, that dictated to that poor machine) for what I have

said. But sure, at least, he must be sincere for the time!--He could not

be such a practised dissembler!--If he could, O how desperately wicked

is the heart of man!--And where could he learn all these barbarous

arts?--If so, it must be native surely to the sex!--But, silent be my

rash censurings; be hushed, ye stormy tumults of my disturbed mind! for

have I not a father who is a man?--A man who knows no guile! who would

do no wrong!--who would not deceive or oppress, to gain a kingdom!--How

then can I think it is native to the sex? And I must also hope my good

lady's son cannot be the worst of men!--If he is, hard the lot of the

excellent woman that bore him!--But much harder the hap of your poor

Pamela, who has fallen into such hands!--But yet I will trust in God,

and hope the best: and so lay down my tired pen for this time. Thursday morning. Somebody rapped at our chamber-door this morning, soon after it was

light: Mrs. Jewkes asked, who it was? My master said, Open the door,

Mrs. Jewkes! O, said I, for God's sake, Mrs. Jewkes, don't! Indeed, said

she, but I must. Then, said I, and clung about her, let me slip on my

clothes first. But he rapped again, and she broke from me; and I was

frightened out of my wits, and folded myself in the bed-clothes. He

entered, and said, What, Pamela, so fearful, after what passed yesterday

between us! O, sir, sir, said I, I fear my prayers have wanted their

wished effect! Pray, good sir, consider--He sat down on the bed-side,

and interrupted me; No need of your foolish fears; I shall say but a

word or two, and go away. After you went up stairs, said he, I had an invitation to a ball, which

is to be this night at Stamford, on occasion of a wedding; and I am

going to call on Sir Simon, and his lady and daughters; for the bride is

a relation of theirs: so I shall not be at home till Saturday. I come,

therefore, to caution you, Mrs. Jewkes, before Pamela, (that she may

not wonder at being closer confined, than for these three or four days

past,) that nobody sees her, nor delivers any letter to her, in that

space; for a person has been seen lurking about, and inquiring after

her, and I have been well informed, that either Mrs. Jervis, or Mr.

Longman, has written a letter, with a design of having it conveyed

to her: And, said he, you must know, Pamela, that I have ordered Mr.

Longman to give up his accounts, and have dismissed Jonathan and

Mrs. Jervis, since I have been here; for their behaviour has been

intolerable; and they have made such a breach between my sister Davers

and me, as we shall never, perhaps, make up. Now, Pamela, I shall take

it kindly in you, if you will confine yourself to your chamber pretty

much, for the time I am absent, and not give Mrs. Jewkes cause of

trouble or uneasiness; and the rather, as you know she acts by my

orders. Alas! sir, said I, I fear all these good people have suffered for my

sake!--Why, said he, I believe so too; and there was never a girl of

your innocence, that set a large family in such an uproar, surely.--But

let that pass. You know both of you my mind, and, in part, the reason of

it. I shall only say, that I have had such a letter from my sister, as

I could not have expected; and, Pamela, said he, neither you nor I have

reason to thank her, as you shall know, perhaps at my return.--I go in

my coach, Mrs. Jewkes, because I take Lady Darnford, and Mrs. Peters's

niece, and one of Lady Darnford's daughters, along with me; and Sir

Simon and his other daughter go in his chariot: so let all the gates be

fastened; and don't take any airing in either of the chariots, nor let

any body go to the gate, without you, Mrs. Jewkes. I'll be sure, said

she, to obey your honour. I will give Mrs. Jewkes no trouble, sir, said I; and will keep pretty

much in my chamber, and not stir so much as into the garden without her;

to shew you I will obey in every thing I can. But I begin to fear--Ay,

said he, more plots and contrivances, don't you?--But I'll assure you,

you never had less reason; and I tell you the truth; for I am really

going to Stamford this time; and upon the occasion I tell you. And so,

Pamela, give me your hand, and one kiss; and then I am gone. I durst not refuse, and said, God bless you, sir, wherever you go!--But

I am sorry for what you tell me about your servants! He and Mrs. Jewkes had a little talk without the door; and I heard her

say, You may depend, sir, upon my care and vigilance. He went in his coach, as he said he should, and very richly dressed,

which looks as if what he said was likely: but really I have been used

to so many tricks, and plots, and surprises, that I know not what to

think. But I mourn for poor Mrs. Jervis.--So here is Parson Williams;

here's poor naughty John; here is good Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman, and

Mr. Jonathan, turned away for me!--Mr. Longman is rich, indeed, and so

need the less matter it; but I know it will grieve him: and for poor Mr.

Jonathan, I am sure it will cut that good old servant to the heart. Alas

for me! what mischiefs am I the occasion of!--Or, rather, my master,

whose actions towards me have made so many of my kind friends forfeit

his favour, for my sake! I am very sad about these things: If he really loved me, methinks he

should not be so angry, that his servants loved me too.--I know not what

to think! Friday night. I have removed my papers from under the rose-bush; for I saw the

gardener begin to dig near that spot; and I was afraid he would find

them. Mrs. Jewkes and I were looking yesterday through the iron gate that

fronts the elms; and a gipsy-like body made up to us, and said; If,

madam, you will give me some broken victuals, I will tell you both your

fortunes. I said, Let us hear our fortunes, Mrs. Jewkes. She said, I

don't like these sort of people; but we will hear what she'll say to

us, however. I shan't fetch you any victuals, woman; but I will give you

some pence, said she. But Nan coming out, she said, Fetch some bread, and some of the cold

meat, and you shall have your fortune told, Nan. This, you'll think, like some of my other matters, a very trifling thing

to write about. But mark the discovery of a dreadful plot, which I have

made by it. O, bless me! What can I think of this naughty, this very

naughty gentleman!--Now will I hate him most heartily. Thus it was:-Mrs. Jewkes had no suspicion of the woman, the iron gate being locked,

and she on the outside, and we on the inside; and so put her hand

through. She said, muttering over a parcel of cramp words; Why, madam,

you will marry soon, I can tell you. At that she seemed pleased, and

said, I am glad to hear that; and shook her fat sides with laughing.

The woman looked most earnestly at me, all the time, and as if she

had meaning. Then it came into my head, from my master's caution, that

possibly this woman might be employed to try to get a letter into my

hands; and I was resolved to watch all her motions. So Mrs. Jewkes said,

What sort of a man shall I have, pray?--Why, said she, a man younger

than yourself; and a very good husband he'll prove.--I am glad of that,

said she; and laughed again. Come, madam, let us hear your fortune. The woman came to me, and took my hand. O! said she, I cannot tell your

fortune: your hand is so white and fine, I cannot see the lines: but,

said she, and, stooping, pulled up a little tuft of grass, I have a way

for that; and so rubbed my hand with the mould part of the tuft: Now,

said she, I can see the lines. Mrs. Jewkes was very watchful of all her ways, and took the tuft, and

looked upon it, lest any thing should be in that. And then the woman

said, Here is the line of Jupiter crossing the line of life; and

Mars--Odd! my pretty mistress, said she, you had best take care of

yourself; for you are hard beset, I'll assure you. You will never be

married, I can see; and will die of your first child. Out upon thee,

woman! said I, better thou hadst never come here. Said Mrs. Jewkes, whispering, I don't like this: it looks like a cheat:

Pray, Mrs. Pamela, go in, this moment. So I will, said I; for I have

enough of fortune-telling. And in I went. The woman wanted sadly to tell me more, which made Mrs. Jewkes threaten

her, suspecting still the more; and away the woman went, having told Nan

her fortune, and she would be drowned. This thing ran strongly in all our heads; and we went, an hour after, to

see if the woman was lurking about, and took Mr. Colbrand for our guard.

Looking through the iron gate, he spied a man sauntering about the

middle of the walk; which filled Mrs. Jewkes with still more suspicions;

and she said, Mr. Colbrand, you and I will walk towards this fellow, and

see what he saunters there for: And, Nan, do you and madam stay at the

gate. So they opened the iron gate and walked down towards the man; and

guessing the woman, if employed, must mean something by the tuft of

grass, I cast my eye that way, whence she pulled it, and saw more grass

seemingly pulled up: then I doubted not something was there for me; and

I walked to it, and standing over it, said to Nan, That's a pretty sort

of wild flower, that grows yonder, near the elm, the fifth from us on

the left; pray pull it for me. Said she, It is a common weed. Well, said

I, but pull it for me; there are sometimes beautiful colours in a weed. While she went on, I stooped, and pulled up a good handful of the grass,

and in it a bit of paper, which I put instantly in my bosom, and dropt

the grass: and my heart went pit-a-pat at the odd adventure. Said I,

Let's go in, Mrs. Anne. No, said she, we must stay till Mrs. Jewkes

comes. I was all impatience to read this paper: and when Colbrand and she

returned, I went in. Said she, Certainly there is some reason for my

master's caution: I can make nothing of this sauntering fellow; but,

to be sure, there was some roguery in the gipsy. Well, said I, if there

was, she lost her aim, you see! Ay, very true, said she; but that was

owing to my watchfulness; and you was very good to go away, when I spoke

to you. I hastened up stairs to my closet, and found the billet to contain, in a

hand that seemed disguised, and bad spelling, the following words: 'Twenty contrivances have been thought of to let you know your danger:

but all have proved in vain. Your friends hope it is not yet too late

to give you this caution, if it reaches your hands. The 'squire is

absolutely determined to ruin you; and, because he despairs of any other

way, he will pretend great love and kindness to you, and that he will

marry you. You may expect a parson, for this purpose, in a few days; but

it is a sly artful fellow, of a broken attorney, that he has hired to

personate a minister. The man has a broad face, pitted much with the

small-pox, and is a very great companion. So take care of yourself.

Doubt not this advice. Perhaps you'll have had but too much reason

already to confirm you in the truth of it. From your zealous

well-wisher, 'SOMEBODY.' Now, my dear father and mother, what shall we say of this truly

diabolical master! O, how shall I find words to paint my griefs, and his

deceit! I have as good as confessed I love him; but, indeed, it was on

supposing him good.--This, however, has given him too much advantage.

But now I will break this wicked forward heart of mine, if it will not

be taught to hate him! O, what a black dismal heart must he have! So

here is a plot to ruin me, and by my own consent to!--No wonder he did

not improve his wicked opportunities, (which I thought owing to remorse

for his sin, and compassion for me,) when he had such a project as

this in reserve!--Here should I have been deluded with the hopes of a

happiness that my highest ambition could have had aspired to!--But

how dreadful must have been my lot, when I had found myself an undone

creature, and a guilty harlot, instead of a lawful wife! Oh! this is

indeed too much, too much, for your poor Pamela to support! This is the

worse, as I hoped all the worst was over; and that I had the pleasure of

beholding a reclaimed man, and not an abandoned libertine. What now must

your poor daughter do? Now all her hopes are dashed! And if this fails

him, then comes, to be sure, my forced disgrace! for this shews he will

never leave till he has ruined me--O, the wretched, wretched Pamela! Saturday noon, one o'clock. My master is come home; and, to be sure, has been where he said. So once

he has told truth; and this matter seems to be gone off without a plot:

No doubt he depends upon his sham wicked marriage! He has brought a

gentleman with him to dinner; and so I have not seen him yet. Two o'clock. I am very sorrowful, and still have greater reason; for, just now, as I

was in my closet, opening the parcel I had hid under the rose-bush,

to see if it was damaged by lying so long, Mrs. Jewkes came upon me by

surprise, and laid her hands upon it; for she had been looking through

the key-hole, it seems. I know not what I shall do! For now he will see all my private thoughts

of him, and all my secrets, as I may say. What a careless creature I

am!--To be sure I deserve to be punished. You know I had the good luck, by Mr. Williams's means, to send you all

my papers down to Sunday night, the 17th day of my imprisonment. But

now these papers contain all my matters from that time, to Wednesday the

27th day of my distress: And which, as you may now, perhaps, never see,

I will briefly mention the contents to you. In these papers, then, are included, 'An account of Mrs. Jewkes's arts

to draw me in to approve of Mr. Williams's proposal for marriage; and my

refusing to do so; and desiring you not to encourage his suit to me. Mr.

Williams's being wickedly robbed, and a visit of hers to him; whereby

she discovered all his secrets. How I was inclined to get off, while she

was gone; but was ridiculously prevented by my foolish fears, etc. My

having the key of the back-door. Mrs. Jewkes's writing to my master all

the secrets she had discovered of Mr. Williams, and her behaviour to me

and him upon it. Continuance of my correspondence with Mr. Williams by

the tiles; begun in the parcel you had. My reproaches to him for his

revealing himself to Mrs. Jewkes; and his letter to me in answer,

threatening to expose my master, if he deceived him; mentioning in it

John Arnold's correspondence with him; and a letter which John sent, and

was intercepted, as it seems. Of the correspondence being carried on by

a friend of his at Gainsborough. Of the horse he was to provide for me,

and one for himself. Of what Mr. Williams had owned to Mrs. Jewkes; and

of my discouraging his proposals. Then it contained a pressing letter of

mine to him, urging my escape before my master came; with his half-angry

answer to me. Your good letter to me, my dear father, sent to me by

Mr. Williams's conveyance; in which you would have me encourage Mr.

Williams, but leave it to me; and in which, fortunately enough, you take

notice of my being uninclined to marry.--My earnest desire to be

with you. The substance of my answer to Mr. Williams, expressing more

patience, etc. A dreadful letter of my master to Mrs. Jewkes; which, by

mistake, was directed to me; and one to me, directed by like mistake

to her; and very free reflections of mine upon both. The concern I

expressed for Mr. Williams's being taken in, deceived, and ruined.

An account of Mrs. Jewkes's glorying in her wicked fidelity. A sad

description I gave of Monsieur Colbrand, a person he sent down to assist

Mrs. Jewkes in watching me. How Mr. Williams was arrested, and thrown

into gaol; and the concern I expressed upon it; and my free reflections

on my master for it. A projected contrivance of mine, to get away out

of the window, and by the back-door; and throwing by petticoat and

handkerchief into the pond to amuse them, while I got off: An attempt

that had like to have ended very dreadfully for me! My further concern

for Mr. Williams's ruin, on my account: And, lastly, my over-hearing

Mrs. Jewkes brag of her contrivance to rob Mr. Williams, in order to get

at my papers; which, however, he preserved, and sent safe to you.' These, down to the execution of my unfortunate plot to escape, are,

to the best of my remembrance, the contents of the papers, which this

merciless woman seized: For, how badly I came off, and what followed, I

still have safe, as I hope, sewed in my under-coat, about my hips. In vain were all my prayers and tears to her, to get her not to shew

them to my master. For she said, It had now come out, why I affected to

be so much alone; and why I was always writing. And she thought herself

happy, she said, she had found these; for often and often had she

searched every place she could think of, for writings, to no purpose

before. And she hoped, she said, there was nothing in them by what any

body might see; for, said she, you know you are all innocence!--Insolent

creature! said I, I am sure you are all guilt!--And so you must do your

worst; for now I can't help myself, and I see there is no mercy to be

expected from you. Just now, my master being come up, she went to him upon the stairs, and

gave him my papers. There, sir, said she; you always said Mrs. Pamela

was a great writer; but I never could get at any thing of hers before.

He took them; and, without coming to me, went down to the parlour again.

And what with the gipsy affair, and what with this, I could not think

of going down to dinner; and she told him that too; and so I suppose I

shall have him up stairs, as soon as his company is gone. Saturday, six o'clock. My master came up, and, in a pleasanter manner than I expected,

said, So, Pamela, we have seized, it seems, your treasonable papers?

Treasonable! said I, very sullenly. Ay, said he, I suppose so; for you

are a great plotter: but I have not read them yet. Then, sir, said I, very gravely, it will be truly honourable in you not

to read them; but to give them to me again. To whom, says he, are they

written?--To my father, sir; but I suppose you see to whom.--Indeed,

returned he, I have not read three lines yet. Then, pray, sir, don't

read them; but give them to me again. That I will not, said he, till

I have read them. Sir, said I, you served me not well in the letters

I used to write formerly: I think it was not worthy your character

to contrive to get them in your hands, by that false John Arnold! for

should such a gentleman as you mind what your poor servant writes?--Yes,

said he, by all means, mind what such a servant as my Pamela writes. Your Pamela! thought I. Then the sham marriage came into my head; and

indeed it has not been out of it, since the gipsy affair.--But, said

he, have you any thing in these papers you would not have me see? To

be sure, sir, said I, there is; for what one writes to one's father and

mother, is not for every body to see. Nor, said he, am I every body. Those letters, added he, that I did see by John's means, were not to

your disadvantage, I'll assure you; for they gave me a very high opinion

of your wit and innocence: And if I had not loved you, do you think I

would have troubled myself about your letters? Alas! sir, said I, great pride to me that! For they gave you such an

opinion of my innocence, that you was resolved to ruin me. And what

advantage have they brought me!--Who have been made a prisoner, and used

as I have been between you and your housekeeper. Why, Pamela, said he, a little seriously, why this behaviour, for my

goodness to you in the garden?--This is not of a piece with your conduct

and softness there, that quite charmed me in your favour: And you must

not give me cause to think that you will be the more insolent, as

you find me kinder. Ah! sir, said I, you know best your own heart and

designs! But I fear I was too open-hearted then; and that you still

keep your resolution to undo me, and have only changed the form of your

proceedings. When I tell you once again, said he, a little sternly, that you cannot

oblige me more, than by placing some confidence in me, I will let you

know, that these foolish and perverse doubts are the worst things you

can be guilty of. But, said he, I shall possibly account for the cause

of them, in these papers of yours; for I doubt not you have been sincere

to your father and mother, though you begin to make me suspect you: For

I tell you, perverse girl, that it is impossible you should be thus cold

and insensible, after what has passed in the garden, if you were not

prepossessed in some other person's favour: And let me add, that if I

find it so, it shall be attended with such effects, as will make every

vein in your heart bleed. He was going away in wrath; and I said, One word, good sir, one

word before you read them, since you will read them: Pray make

allowances--for all the harsh reflections that you will find in them,

on your own conduct to me: And remember only, that they were not written

for your sight; and were penned by a poor creature hardly used, and who

was in constant apprehension of receiving from you the worst treatment

that you could inflict upon her. If that be all, said he, and there be nothing of another nature, that

I cannot forgive, you have no cause for uneasiness; for I had as many

instances of your saucy reflections upon me in your former letters, as

there were lines; and yet, you see, I have never upbraided you on that

score; though, perhaps, I wished you had been more sparing of your

epithets, and your freedoms of that sort. Well, sir, said I, since you will, you must read them; and I think I

have no reason to be afraid of being found insincere, or having, in any

respect, told you a falsehood; because, though I don't remember all

I wrote, yet I know I wrote my heart; and that is not deceitful. And

remember, sir, another thing, that I always declared I thought myself

right to endeavour to make my escape from this forced and illegal

restraint; and so you must not be angry that I would have done so, if I

could. I'll judge you, never fear, said he, as favourably as you deserve; for

you have too powerful a pleader within me. And so went down stairs. About nine o'clock he sent for me down into the parlour. I went a little

fearfully; and he held the paper in his hand, and said, Now, Pamela,

you come upon your trial. Said I, I hope I have a just judge to hear my

cause. Ay, said he, and you may hope for a merciful one too, or else I

know not what will become of you. I expect, continued he, that you will answer me directly, and plainly,

to every question I shall ask you.--In the first place, here are several

love-letters between you and Williams. Love-letters! sir, said I.--Well,

call them what you will, said he, I don't entirely like them, I'll

assure you, with all the allowances you desired me to make for you. Do

you find, sir, said I, that I encouraged his proposal, or do you not?

Why, said he, you discourage his address in appearance; but no otherwise

than all your cunning sex do to ours, to make us more eager in pursuing

you. Well, sir, said I, that is your comment; but it does not appear so in

the text. Smartly said! says he: Where a d---l gottest thou, at these

years, all this knowledge? And then thou hast a memory, as I see by your

papers, that nothing escapes. Alas! sir, said I, what poor abilities I

have, serve only to make me more miserable!--I have no pleasure in my

memory, which impresses things upon me, that I could be glad never were,

or everlastingly to forget. Well, said he, so much for that--But where are the accounts (since you

have kept so exact a journal of all that has befallen you) previous to

these here in my hand? My father has them, sir, said I.--By whose means?

said he--By Mr. Williams's, said I. Well answered, said he. But cannot

you contrive to get me a sight of them? That would be pretty! said I. I

wish I could have contrived to have kept those you have from your sight.

Said he, I must see them, Pamela, or I shall never be easy; for I must

know how this correspondence between you and Williams began: and if I

can see them, it shall be better for you, if they answer what these give

me hope they will. I can tell you, sir, very faithfully, said I, what the beginning was;

for I was bold enough to be the beginner. That won't do, said he;

for though this may appear a punctilio to you, to me it is of high

importance. Sir, said I, if you please to let me go to my father, I will

send them to you by any messenger you shall send for them. Will you so?

But I dare say, if you will write for them, they will send them to you,

without the trouble of such a journey to yourself: and I beg you will. I think, sir, said I, as you have seen all my former letters through

John's baseness, and now these, through your faithful housekeeper's

officious watchfulness, you might see all the rest: But I hope you

will not desire it, till I can see how much my pleasing you in this

particular will be of use to myself. You must trust to my honour for that. But tell me, Pamela, said the sly

gentleman, since I have seen these, would you have voluntarily shewn me

those, had they been in your possession? I was not aware of this inference, and said, Yes, truly, sir, I think

I should, if you commanded it. Well then, Pamela, said he, as I am sure

you have found means to continue your journal, I desire, till the former

part can come, that you will shew me the succeeding.--O sir, sir, said

I, have you caught me so?--But indeed you must excuse me there. Why, said he, tell me truly, have you not continued your account till

now? Don't ask me, sir, said I. But I insist upon your answer, replied

he. Why then, sir, I will not tell an untruth; I have.--That's my good

girl! said he, I love sincerity at my heart.--In another, sir, said I,

I presume you mean!--Well, said he, I'll allow you to be a little witty

upon me; because it is in you, and you cannot help it: but you will

greatly oblige me, to shew me voluntarily what you have written. I long

to see the particulars of your plot, and your disappointment, where your

papers leave off: for you have so beautiful a manner, that it is partly

that, and partly my love for you, that has made me desirous of reading

all you write; though a great deal of it is against myself; for which

you must expect to suffer a little: and as I have furnished you with the

subject, I have a title to see the fruits of your pen.--Besides, said

he, there is such a pretty air of romance, as you relate them, in your

plots, and my plots, that I shall be better directed in what manner to

wind up the catastrophe of the pretty novel. If I was your equal, sir, said I, I should say this is a very provoking

way of jeering at the misfortunes you have brought upon me. O, said he, the liberties you have taken with my character in your

letters, sets us upon a par, at least in that respect. Sir, I could not

have taken those liberties, if you had not given me the cause: and the

cause, sir, you know, is before the effect. True, Pamela, said he; you chop logic very prettily. What the deuse do

we men go to school for? If our wits were equal to women's, we might

spare much time and pains in our education: for nature teaches your

sex, what, in a long course of labour and study, ours can hardly attain

to.--But, indeed, every lady is not a Pamela. You delight to banter your poor servant, said I. Nay, continued he, I believe I must assume to myself half the merit of

your wit, too; for the innocent exercises you have had for it, from me,

have certainly sharpened your invention. Sir, said I, could I have been without those innocent exercises, as you

are pleased to call them, I should have been glad to have been as dull

as a beetle. But then, Pamela, said he, I should not have loved you so

well. But then, sir, I should have been safe, easy, and happy.--Ay, may

be so, and may be not; and the wife, too, of some clouterly plough-boy. But then, sir, I should have been content and innocent; and that's

better than being a princess, and not so. And may be not, said he; for

if you had had that pretty face, some of us keen fox-hunters should have

found you out; and, in spite of your romantic notions, (which then, too,

perhaps, would not have had so strong a place in your mind,) might have

been more happy with the ploughman's wife, than I have been with my

mother's Pamela. I hope, sir, said I, God would have given me more

grace. Well, but, resumed he, as to these writings of yours, that follow your

fine plot, I must see them. Indeed, sir, you must not, if I can help

it. Nothing, said he, pleases me better, than that, in all your arts,

shifts, and stratagems, you have had a great regard to truth; and have,

in all your little pieces of deceit, told very few wilful fibs. Now

I expect you'll continue this laudable rule in your conversation with

me.--Let me know then, where you have found supplies of pen, ink, and

paper, when Mrs. Jewkes was so vigilant, and gave you but two sheets at

a time?--Tell me truth. Why, sir, little did I think I should have such occasion for them; but,

when I went away from your house, I begged some of each of good Mr.

Longman, who gave me plenty. Yes, yes, said he, it must be good Mr.

Longman! All your confederates are good, every one of them: but such of

my servants as have done their duty, and obeyed my orders, are painted

out by you as black as devils! nay, so am I too, for that matter. Sir, said I, I hope you won't be angry, but, saving yourself, do you

think they are painted worse than they deserve? or worse than the parts

they acted require? You say, saving myself, Pamela; but is not that saying a mere

compliment to me, because I am present, and you are in my hands? Tell me

truly.--Good sir, excuse me; but I fancy I might ask you, Why you should

think so, if there was not a little bit of conscience that told you,

there was but too much reason for it? He kissed me, and said, I must either do thus, or be angry with you; for

you are very saucy, Pamela.--But, with your bewitching chit-chat, and

pretty impertinence, I will not lose my question. Where did you hide

your paper, pens, and ink? Some, sir, in one place, some in another; that I might have some left,

if others should be found.--That's a good girl! said he; I love you

for your sweet veracity. Now tell me where it is you hide your written

papers, your saucy journal?--I must beg your excuse for that, sir, said

I. But indeed, answered he, you will not have it: for I will know, and

I will see them.--This is very hard, sir, said I; but I must say, you

shall not, if I can help it. We were standing most of this time; but he then sat down, and took me

by both my hands, and said, Well said, my pretty Pamela, if you can help

it! But I will not let you help it. Tell me, are they in your pocket?

No, sir, said I; my heart up at my mouth. Said he, I know you won't tell

a downright fib for the world: but for equivocation! no jesuit ever went

beyond you. Answer me then, Are they in neither of your pockets? No,

sir, said I. Are they not, said he, about your stays? No, sir, replied

I: But pray no more questions: for ask me ever so much, I will not tell

you. O, said he, I have a way for that. I can do as they do abroad, when the

criminals won't confess; torture them till they do.--But pray, sir, said

I, is this fair, just, or honest? I am no criminal; and I won't confess. O, my girl! said he, many an innocent person has been put to the

torture. But let me know where they are, and you shall escape the

question, as they call it abroad. Sir, said I, the torture is not used in England, and I hope you won't

bring it up. Admirably said! said the naughty gentleman.--But I can tell

you of as good a punishment. If a criminal won't plead with us, here

in England, we press him to death, or till he does plead. And so now,

Pamela, that is a punishment shall certainly be yours, if you won't tell

without. Tears stood in my eyes, and I said, This, sir, is very cruel and

barbarous.--No matter, said he; it is but like your Lucifer, you know,

in my shape! And, after I have done so many heinous things by you as

you think, you have no great reason to judge so hardly of this; or, at

least, it is but of a piece with the rest. But, sir, said I, (dreadfully afraid he had some notion they were about

me,) if you will be obeyed in this unreasonable manner, though it is sad

tyranny, to be sure!--let me go up to them, and read them over again,

and you shall see so far as to the end of the sad story that follows

those you have. I'll see them all, said he, down to this time, if you have written so

far:--Or, at least, till within this week.--Then let me go up to them,

said I, and see what I have written, and to what day, to shew them

to you; for you won't desire to see every thing. But I will, replied

he.--But say, Pamela, tell me truth: Are they above? I was much

affrighted. He saw my confusion. Tell me truth, said he. Why, sir,

answered I, I have sometimes hid them under the dry mould in the garden;

sometimes in one place, sometimes in another; and those you have in your

hand, were several days under a rose-bush, in the garden. Artful slut!

said he, What's this to my question?--Are they not about you?--If, said

I, I must pluck them out of my hiding-place behind the wainscot, won't

you see me?--Still more and more artful! said he--Is this an answer to

my question?--I have searched every place above, and in your closet, for

them, and cannot find them; so I will know where they are. Now, said he,

it is my opinion they are about you; and I never undressed a girl in my

life; but I will now begin to strip my pretty Pamela; and I hope I shall

not go far before I find them. I fell a crying, and said, I will not be used in this manner. Pray, sir,

said I, (for he began to unpin my handkerchief,) consider! Pray sir,

do!--And pray, said he, do you consider. For I will see these papers.

But may be, said he, they are tied about your knees, with your garters,

and stooped. Was ever any thing so vile and so wicked?--I fell on my

knees, and said, What can I do? What can I do? If you'll let me go up

I'll fetch them to you. Will you, said he, on your honour, let me see

them uncurtailed, and not offer to make them away; no not a single

paper?--I will, sir.--On your honour? Yes, sir. And so he let me go up

stairs, crying sadly for vexation to be so used. Sure nobody was ever so

served as I am! I went to my closet, and there I sat me down, and could not bear the

thoughts of giving up my papers. Besides, I must all undress me, in a

manner, to untack them. So I writ thus: 'SIR, 'To expostulate with such an arbitrary gentleman, I know will signify

nothing; and most hardly do you use the power you so wickedly have got

over me. I have heart enough, sir, to do a deed that would make you

regret using me thus; and I can hardly bear it, and what I am further

to undergo. But a superior consideration withholds me; thank God, it

does!--I will, however, keep my word, if you insist upon it when

you have read this; but, sir, let me beg of you to give me time till

to-morrow morning, that I may just run them over, and see what I put

into your hands against me: and I will then give my papers to you,

without the least alteration, or adding or diminishing: But I should

beg still to be excused, if you please: But if not, spare them to me but

till to-morrow morning: and this, so hardly am I used, shall be thought

a favour, which I shall be very thankful for.' I guessed it would not be long before I heard from him and he

accordingly sent up Mrs. Jewkes for what I had promised. So I gave

her this note to carry to him. And he sent word, that I must keep my

promise, and he would give me till morning; but that I must bring them

to him, without his asking again. So I took off my under-coat, and with great trouble of mind, unsewed

them from it. And there is a vast quantity of it. I will just slightly

touch upon the subjects; because I may not, perhaps, get them again for

you to see. They begin with an account of 'my attempting to get away out of the

window first, and then throwing my petticoat and handkerchief into the

pond. How sadly I was disappointed, the lock of the back-door being

changed. How, in trying to climb over the door, I tumbled down, and was

piteously bruised; the bricks giving way, and tumbling upon me. How,

finding I could not get off, and dreading the hard usage I should

receive, I was so wicked as to think of throwing myself into the water.

My sad reflections upon this matter. How Mrs. Jewkes used me upon this

occasion, when she found me. How my master had like to have been drowned

in hunting; and my concern for his danger, notwithstanding his usage

of me. Mrs. Jewkes's wicked reports, to frighten me, that I was to be

married to the ugly Swiss; who was to sell me on the wedding-day to

my master. Her vile way of talking to me, like a London prostitute. My

apprehensions of seeing preparations made for my master's coming. Her

causeless fears that I was trying to get away again, when I had no

thoughts of it; and my bad usage upon it. My master's dreadful arrival;

and his hard, very hard treatment of me; and Mrs. Jewkes's insulting

of me. His jealousy of Mr. Williams and me. How Mrs. Jewkes vilely

instigated him to wickedness.' And down to here, I put into one parcel,

hoping that would content him. But for fear it should not, I put into

another parcel the following; viz. 'A copy of his proposals to me, of a great parcel of gold, and fine

clothes and rings, and an estate of I can't tell what a year; and 50l. a

year for the life of both you, my dear parents, to be his mistress; with

an insinuation, that, may be, he would marry me at the year's end: All

sadly vile: With threatenings, if I did not comply, that he would ruin

me, without allowing me any thing. A copy of my answer, refusing all,

with just abhorrence: But begging at last his goodness towards me, and

mercy on me, in the most moving manner I could think of. An account

of his angry behaviour, and Mrs. Jewkes's wicked advice hereupon. His

trying to get me to his chamber; and my refusal to go. A deal of stuff

and chit-chat between me and the odious Mrs. Jewkes; in which she was

very wicked and very insulting. Two notes I wrote, as if to be carried

to church, to pray for his reclaiming, and my safety; which Mrs.

Jewkes seized, and officiously shewed him. A confession of mine, that,

notwithstanding his bad usage, I could not hate him. My concern for Mr.

Williams. A horrid contrivance of my master's to ruin me; being in

my room, disguised in clothes of the maid's, who lay with me and Mrs.

Jewkes. How narrowly I escaped, (it makes my heart ache to think of it

still!) by falling into fits. Mrs. Jewkes's detestable part in this sad

affair. How he seemed moved at my danger, and forbore his abominable

designs; and assured me he had offered no indecency. How ill I was for

a day or two after; and how kind he seemed. How he made me forgive Mrs.

Jewkes. How, after this, and great kindness pretended, he made rude

offers to me in the garden, which I escaped. How I resented them.' Then

I had written, 'How kindly he behaved himself to me; and how he praised

me, and gave me great hopes of his being good at last. Of the too tender

impression this made upon me; and how I began to be afraid of my own

weakness and consideration for him, though he had used me so ill.

How sadly jealous he was of Mr. Williams; and how I, as justly could,

cleared myself as to his doubts on that score. How, just when he had

raised me up to the highest hope of his goodness, he dashed me sadly

again, and went off more coldly. My free reflections upon this trying

occasion.' This brought down matters from Thursday, the 20th day of my

imprisonment, to Wednesday the 41st, and here I was resolved to end, let

what would come; for only Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, remain to give

an account of; and Thursday he set out to a ball at Stamford; and Friday

was the gipsy story; and this is Saturday, his return from Stamford. And

truly, I shall have but little heart to write, if he is to see all. So these two parcels of papers I have got ready for him against

to-morrow morning. To be sure I have always used him very freely in my

writings, and shewed him no mercy; but yet he must thank himself for

it; for I have only writ truth; and I wish he had deserved a better

character at my hands, as well for his own sake as mine.--So, though I

don't know whether ever you'll see what I write, I must say, that I will

go to bed, with remembering you in my prayers, as I always do, and as I

know you do me: And so, my dear parents, good night. Sunday morning. I remembered what he said, of not being obliged to ask again for my

papers; and what I should be forced to do, and could not help, I thought

I might as well do in such a manner as might shew I would not disoblige

on purpose: though I stomached this matter very heavily too. I had

therefore got in readiness my two parcels; and he, not going to church

in the morning, bid Mrs. Jewkes tell me he was gone into the garden. I knew that was for me to go to him; and so I went: for how can I

help being at his beck? which grieves me not a little, though he is my

master, as I may say; for I am so wholly in his power, that it would

do me no good to incense him; and if I refused to obey him in little

matters, my refusal in greater would have the less weight. So I went

down to the garden; but as he walked in one walk, I took another, that I

might not seem too forward neither. He soon 'spied me, and said, Do you expect to be courted to come to me?

Sir, said I, and crossed the walk to attend him, I did not know but I

should interrupt you in your meditations this good day. Was that the case, said he, truly, and from your heart? Why, sir, said

I, I don't doubt but you have very good thoughts sometimes, though not

towards me. I wish, said he, I could avoid thinking so well of you as

I do. But where are the papers?--I dare say you had them about you

yesterday; for you say in those I have, that you will bury your writings

in the garden, for fear you should be searched, if you did not escape.

This, added he, gave me a glorious pretence to search you; and I have

been vexing myself all night, that I did not strip you garment by

garment, till I had found them. O fie, sir, said I; let me not be

scared, with hearing that you had such a thought in earnest. Well, said he, I hope you have not now the papers to give me; for I had

rather find them myself, I'll assure you. I did not like this way of talk at all; and thinking it best not to

dwell upon it, said, Well, but, sir, you will excuse me, I hope, giving

up my papers. Don't trifle with me, said he; Where are they?--I think I was very good

to you last night, to humour you as I did. If you have either added

or diminished, and have not strictly kept your promise, woe be to you!

Indeed, sir, said I, I have neither added nor diminished. But there is

the parcel that goes on with my sad attempt to escape, and the terrible

consequences it had like to have been followed with. And it goes down to

the naughty articles you sent me. And as you know all that has happened

since, I hope these will satisfy you. He was going to speak; but I said, to drive him from thinking of any

more, And I must beg you, sir, to read the matter favourably, if I have

exceeded in any liberties of my pen. I think, said he, half-smiling, you may wonder at my patience, that I

can be so easy to read myself abused as I am by such a saucy slut.--Sir,

said I, I have wondered you should be so desirous to see my bold stuff;

and, for that very reason, I have thought it a very good, or a very bad

sign. What, said he, is your good sign?--That it may have an effect upon

your temper, at last, in my favour, when you see me so sincere. Your

bad sign? Why, that if you can read my reflections and observations upon

your treatment of me, with tranquillity, and not be moved, it is a sign

of a very cruel and determined heart. Now, pray, sir, don't be angry at

my boldness in telling you so freely my thoughts. You may, perhaps, said

he, be least mistaken, when you think of your bad sign. God forbid! said

I. So I took out my papers; and said, Here, sir, they are. But if you

please to return them, without breaking the seal, it will be very

generous: and I will take it for a great favour, and a good omen. He broke the seal instantly, and opened them: So much for your omen!

replied he. I am sorry for it, said I, very seriously; and was walking

away. Whither now? said he. I was going in, sir, that you might have

time to read them, if you thought fit. He put them into his pocket, and

said, You have more than these. Yes, sir: but all they contain, you know

as well as I.--But I don't know, said he, the light you put things in;

and so give them me, if you have not a mind to be searched. Sir, said I, I can't stay, if you won't forbear that ugly world.--Give

me then no reason for it. Where are the other papers? Why, then, unkind

sir, if it must be so, here they are. And so I gave him, out of

my pocket, the second parcel, sealed up, as the former, with this

superscription; From the naughty articles, down, through sad attempts,

to Thursday the 42d day of my imprisonment. This is last Thursday, is

it? Yes, sir; but now you will see what I write, I will find some other

way to employ my time: for how can I write with any face, what must be

for your perusal, and not for those I intended to read my melancholy

stories? Yes, said he, I would have you continue your penmanship by all means;

and, I assure you, in the mind I am in, I will not ask you for any after

these; except any thing very extraordinary occurs. And I have another

thing to tell you, added he, that if you send for those from your

father, and let me read them, I may, very probably, give them all back

again to you. And so I desire you will do it. This a little encourages me to continue my scribbling; but, for fear of

the worst, I will, when they come to any bulk, contrive some way to

hide them, if I can, that I may protest I have them not about me, which,

before, I could not say of a truth; and that made him so resolutely bent

to try to find them upon me; for which I might have suffered frightful

indecencies. He led me, then, to the side of the pond; and sitting down on the slope,

made me sit by him. Come, said he, this being the scene of part of your

project, and where you so artfully threw in some of your clothes, I will

just look upon that part of your relation. Sir, said I, let me then walk

about, at a little distance; for I cannot bear the thought of it. Don't

go far, said he. When he came, as I suppose, to the place where I mentioned the bricks

falling upon me, he got up, and walked to the door, and looked upon

the broken part of the wall; for it had not been mended; and came back,

reading on to himself, towards me; and took my hand, and put it under

his arm. Why, this, said he, my girl, is a very moving tale. It was a very

desperate attempt, and, had you got out, you might have been in great

danger; for you had a very bad and lonely way; and I had taken such

measures, that, let you have been where you would, I should have had

you. You may see, sir, said I, what I ventured, rather than be ruined; and

you will be so good as hence to judge of the sincerity of my profession,

that my honesty is dearer to me than my life. Romantic girl! said he,

and read on. He was very serious at my reflections, on what God had enabled me to

escape. And when he came to my reasonings about throwing myself into the

water, he said, Walk gently before; and seemed so moved, that he turned

away his face from me; and I blessed this good sign, and began not so

much to repent at his seeing this mournful part of my story. He put the papers in his pocket, when he had read my reflections, and

thanks for escaping from myself; and said, taking me about the waist, O

my dear girl! you have touched me sensibly with your mournful relation,

and your sweet reflections upon it. I should truly have been very

miserable had it taken effect. I see you have been used too roughly; and

it is a mercy you stood proof in that fatal moment. Then he most kindly folded me in his arms: Let us, say I too, my Pamela,

walk from this accursed piece of water; for I shall not, with pleasure,

look upon it again, to think how near it was to have been fatal to my

fair one. I thought, added he, of terrifying you to my will, since I

could not move you by love; and Mrs. Jewkes too well obeyed me, when the

terrors of your return, after your disappointment, were so great, that

you had hardly courage to withstand them; but had like to have made so

fatal a choice, to escape the treatment you apprehended. O sir, said I, I have reason, I am sure, to bless my dear parents,

and my good lady, your mother, for giving me something of a religious

education; for, but for that, and God's grace, I should, more than upon

one occasion, have attempted, at least, a desperate act: and I the less

wonder how poor creatures, who have not the fear of God before their

eyes, and give way to despondency, cast themselves into perdition. Come, kiss me, said he, and tell me you forgive me for pushing you into

so much danger and distress. If my mind hold, and I can see those former

papers of yours, and that these in my pocket give me no cause to altar

my opinion, I will endeavour to defy the world and the world's censures,

and make my Pamela amends, if it be in the power of my whole life, for

all the hardships I have made her undergo. All this looked well; but you shall see how strangely it was all turned.

For this sham-marriage then came into my mind again; and I said, Your

poor servant is far unworthy of this great honour; for what will it be

but to create envy to herself, and discredit to you? Therefore, sir,

permit me to return to my poor parents, and that is all I have to ask. He was in a fearful passion then. And is it thus, said he, in my fond

conceding moments, that I am to be despised and answered?--Precise,

perverse, unseasonable Pamela! begone from my sight! and know as well

how to behave in a hopeful prospect, as in a distressful state; and

then, and not till then, shalt thou attract the shadow of my notice. I was startled, and going to speak: but he stamped with his foot, and

said, Begone! I tell you: I cannot bear this stupid romantic folly. One word, said I; but one word, I beseech you, sir. He turned from me in great wrath, and took down another alley, and so I

went, with a very heavy heart; and fear I was too unseasonable, just at

a time when he was so condescending: but if it was a piece of art of his

side, as I apprehended, to introduce the sham-wedding, (and, to be sure,

he is very full of stratagem and art,) I think I was not so much to

blame. So I went up to my closet; and wrote thus far, while he walked about

till dinner was ready; and he is now sat down to it, as I hear by Mrs.

Jewkes, very sullen, thoughtful, and out of humour; and she asks, What

I have done to him?--Now, again, I dread to see him!--When will my fears

be over? Three o'clock. Well, he continues exceeding wrath. He has ordered his travelling

chariot to be got ready with all speed. What is to come next, I wonder! Sure I did not say so much!--But see the lordliness of a high

condition!--A poor body must not put in a word, when they take it into

their heads to be angry! What a fine time a person of an equal condition

would have of it, if she were even to marry such a one!--His poor dear

mother spoiled him at first. Nobody must speak to him or contradict him,

as I have heard, when he was a child; and so he has not been used to

be controlled, and cannot bear the least thing that crosses his violent

will. This is one of the blessings attending men of high condition! Much

good may do them with their pride of birth, and pride of fortune! say

I:--All that it serves for, as far as I can see, is, to multiply their

disquiets, and every body's else that has to do with them. So, so! where will this end?--Mrs. Jewkes has been with me from him,

and she says, I must get out of the house this moment. Well, said I, but

whither am I to be carried next? Why, home, said she, to your father and

mother. And can it be? said I; No, no, I doubt I shall not be so happy

as that!--To be sure some bad design is on foot again! To be sure it

is!--Sure, sure, said I, Mrs. Jewkes, he has not found out some other

housekeeper worse than you! She was very angry, you may well think. But

I know she can't be made worse than she is. She came up again. Are you ready? said she. Bless me, said I, you are

very hasty! I have heard of this not a quarter of an hour ago. But I

shall be soon ready; for I have but little to take with me, and no kind

friends in this house to take leave of, to delay me. Yet, like a fool, I

can't help crying.--Pray, said I, just step down, and ask, if I may not

have my papers. So, I am quite ready now, against she comes up with an answer; and so I

will put up these few writings in my bosom, that I have left. I don't know what to think--nor how to judge; but I shall never believe

I am with you, till I am on my knees before you, begging both your

blessings. Yet I am sorry he is so angry with me! I thought I did not

say so much! There is, I see, the chariot drawn out, the horses too, the grim

Colbrand going to get on horseback. What will be the end of all this? Monday. Well, where this will end, I cannot say. But here I am, at a little poor

village, almost such a one as yours! I shall learn the name of it by

and by: and Robin assures me, he has orders to carry me to you, my dear

father and mother. O that he may say truth, and not deceive me again!

But having nothing else to do, and I am sure I shall not sleep a wink

to-night, if I was to go to bed, I will write my time away, and take up

my story where I left off, on Sunday afternoon. Mrs. Jewkes came up to me, with this answer about my papers: My master

says, he will not read them yet, lest he should be moved by any thing in

them to alter his resolution. But if he should think it worth while to

read them, he will send them to you, afterwards, to your father's. But,

said she, here are your guineas that I borrowed: for all is over now

with you, I find. She saw me cry, and said, Do you repent?--Of what? said I.--Nay, I can't

tell, replied she; but, to be sure, he has had a taste of your satirical

flings, or he would not be so angry. O! continued she, and held up her

hand, thou hast a spirit!--But I hope it will now be brought down.--I

hope so too, said I. Well, added I, I am ready. She lifted up the window, and said, I'll call

Robin to take your portmanteau: Bag and baggage! proceeded she, I'm

glad you're going. I have no words, said I, to throw away upon you, Mrs.

Jewkes; but, making her a very low courtesy, I most heartily thank you

for all your virtuous civilities to me. And so adieu; for I'll have no

portmanteau, I'll assure you, nor any thing but these few things that

I brought with me in my handkerchief, besides what I have on. For I had

all this time worn my own bought clothes, though my master would have

had it otherwise often: but I had put up paper, ink, and pens, however. So down I went, and as I passed by the parlour, she stepped in, and

said, Sir, you have nothing to say to the girl before she goes? I heard

him reply, though I did not see him, Who bid you say, the girl, Mrs.

Jewkes, in that manner? She has offended only me. I beg your honour's pardon, said the wretch; but if I was your honour,

she should not, for all the trouble she has cost you, go away scot-free.

No more of this, as I told you before, said he: What! when I have such

proof, that her virtue is all her pride, shall I rob her of that?--No,

added he, let her go, perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves

to go honest, and she shall go so! I was so transported with this unexpected goodness, that I opened the

door before I knew what I did; and said, falling on my knees at the

door, with my hands folded, and lifted up, O thank you, thank your

honour, a million of times!--May God bless you for this instance of your

goodness to me! I will pray for you as long as I live, and so shall my

dear father and mother. And, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, I will pray for you

too, poor wicked wretch that you are! He turned from me, and went into his closet, and shut the door. He need

not have done so; for I would not have gone nearer to him! Surely I did not say so much, to incur all this displeasure. I think I was loath to leave the house. Can you believe it?--What could

be the matter with me, I wonder?--I felt something so strange, and

my heart was so lumpish!--I wonder what ailed me!--But this was so

unexpected!--I believe that was all!--Yet I am very strange still.

Surely, surely, I cannot be like the old murmuring Israelites, to long

after the onions and garlick of Egypt, when they had suffered there such

heavy bondage?--I'll take thee, O lumpish, contradictory, ungovernable

heart! to severe task, for this thy strange impulse, when I get to my

dear father's and mother's; and if I find any thing in thee that should

not be, depend upon it thou shalt be humbled, if strict abstinence,

prayer, and mortification, will do it! But yet, after all, this last goodness of his has touched me too

sensibly. I wish I had not heard it, almost; and yet, methinks, I am

glad I did; for I should rejoice to think the best of him, for his own

sake. Well, and so I went out to the chariot, the same that brought me down.

So, Mr. Robert, said I, here I am again! a poor sporting-piece for the

great! a mere tennis-ball of fortune! You have your orders, I hope. Yes,

madam, said he. Pray, now, said I, don't madam me, nor stand with your

hat off to such a one as I. Had not my master, said he, ordered me not

to be wanting in respect to you, I would have shewn you all I could.

Well, said I, with my heart full, that's very kind, Mr. Robert. Mr. Colbrand, mounted on horseback, with pistols before him, came up to

me, as soon as I got in, with his hat off too. What, monsieur! said I,

are you to go with me?--Part of the way, he said, to see you safe. I

hope that's kind too, in you, Mr. Colbrand, said I. I had nobody to wave my handkerchief to now, nor to take leave of; and

so I resigned myself to my contemplations, with this strange wayward

heart of mine, that I never found so ungovernable and awkward before. So away drove the chariot!--And when I had got out of the elm-walk, and

into the great road, I could hardly think but I was in a dream all the

time. A few hours before, in my master's arms almost, with twenty kind

things said to me, and a generous concern for the misfortunes he had

brought upon me; and only by one rash half-word exasperated against

me, and turned out of doors, at an hour's warning; and all his kindness

changed to hate! And I now, from three o'clock to five, several miles

off! But if I am going to you, all will be well again, I hope. Lack-a-day, what strange creatures are men! gentlemen, I should say,

rather! For, my dear deserving good mother, though poverty be both your

lots, has had better hap, and you are, and have always been, blest in

one another!--Yet this pleases me too; he was so good, he would not let

Mrs. Jewkes speak ill of me, and scorned to take her odious unwomanly

advice. O, what a black heart has this poor wretch! So I need not rail

against men so much; for my master, bad as I have thought him, is not

half so bad as this woman.--To be sure she must be an atheist!--Do you

think she is not? We could not reach further than this little poor place and sad alehouse,

rather than inn; for it began to be dark, and Robin did not make so much

haste as he might have done; and he was forced to make hard shift for

his horses. Mr. Colbrand, and Robert too, are very civil. I see he has got my

portmanteau lashed behind the coach. I did not desire it; but I shall

not come quite empty. A thorough riddance of me, I see!--Bag and baggage! as Mrs. Jewkes says.

Well, my story surely would furnish out a surprising kind of novel, if

it was to be well told. Mr. Robert came up to me, just now, and begged me to eat something: I

thanked him; but said, I could not eat. I bid him ask Mr. Colbrand to

walk up; and he came; but neither of them would sit; nor put their hats

on. What mockado is this, to such a poor soul as I! I asked them, if

they were at liberty to tell me the truth of what they were to do with

me? If not, I would not desire it.--They both said, Robin was ordered

to carry me to my father's; and Mr. Colbrand was to leave me within ten

miles, and then strike off for the other house, and wait till my master

arrived there. They both spoke so solemnly, that I could not but believe

them. But when Robin went down, the other said, he had a letter to give me

next day at noon, when we baited, as we were to do, at Mrs. Jewkes's

relation's.--May I not, said I, beg the favour to see it to-night? He

seemed so loath to deny me, that I have hopes I shall prevail on him by

and by. Well, my dear father and mother, I have got the letter, on great

promises of secrecy, and making no use of it. I will try if I can open

it without breaking the seal, and will take a copy of it by and by; for

Robin is in and out: there being hardly any room in this little house

for one to be long alone. Well, this is the letter: 'When these lines are delivered to you, you will be far on your way to

your father and mother, where you have so long desired to be: and, I

hope, I shall forbear thinking of you with the least shadow of that

fondness my foolish heart had entertained for you: I bear you, however,

no ill will; but the end of my detaining you being over, I would not

that you should tarry with me an hour more than needed, after the

ungenerous preference you gave, at a time that I was inclined to pass

over all other considerations, for an honourable address to you; for

well I found the tables entirely turned upon me, and that I was in

far more danger from you, than you were from me; for I was just upon

resolving to defy all the censures of the world, and to make you my

wife. 'I will acknowledge another truth: That, had I not parted with you as I

did, but permitted you to stay till I had read your journal, reflecting,

as I doubt not I shall find it, and till I had heard your bewitching

pleas in your own behalf, I feared I could not trust myself with my

own resolution. And this is the reason, I frankly own, that I have

determined not to see you, nor hear you speak; for well I know my

weakness in your favour. 'But I will get the better of this fond folly: Nay, I hope I have

already done it, since it was likely to cost me so dear. And I write

this to tell you, that I wish you well with all my heart, though you

have spread such mischief through my family.--And yet I cannot but

say that I could wish you would not think of marrying in haste; and,

particularly, that you would not have this cursed Williams.--But what

is all this to me now?--Only, my weakness makes me say, That as I had

already looked upon you as mine, and you have so soon got rid of your

first husband; so you will not refuse, to my memory, the decency that

every common person observes, to pay a twelvemonth's compliment, though

but a mere compliment, to my ashes. 'Your papers shall be faithfully returned you; and I have paid so dear

for my curiosity in the affection they have rivetted upon me for you,

that you would look upon yourself amply revenged if you knew what they

have cost me. 'I thought of writing only a few lines; but I have run into length. I

will now try to recollect my scattered thoughts, and resume my reason;

and shall find trouble enough to replace my affairs, and my own family,

and to supply the chasms you have made in it: For, let me tell you,

though I can forgive you, I never can my sister, nor my domestics; for

my vengeance must be wreaked somewhere. 'I doubt not your prudence in forbearing to expose me any more than is

necessary for your own justification; and for that I will suffer myself

to be accused by you, and will also accuse myself, if it be needful. For

I am, and will ever be, 'Your affectionate well-wisher.' This letter, when I expected some new plot, has affected me more than

any thing of that sort could have done. For here is plainly his great

value for me confessed, and his rigorous behaviour accounted for in such

a manner, as tortures me much. And all this wicked gipsy story is, as it

seems, a forgery upon us both, and has quite ruined me: For, O my dear

parents, forgive me! but I found, to my grief, before, that my heart

was too partial in his favour; but now with so much openness, so much

affection; nay, so much honour too, (which was all I had before doubted,

and kept me on the reserve,) I am quite overcome. This was a happiness,

however, I had no reason to expect. But, to be sure, I must own to

you, that I shall never be able to think of any body in the world

but him.--Presumption! you will say; and so it is: But love is not a

voluntary thing: Love, did I say?--But come, I hope not:--At least it is

not, I hope, gone so far as to make me very uneasy: For I know not how

it came, nor when it began; but crept, crept it has, like a thief, upon

me; and before I knew what was the matter, it looked like love. I wish, since it is too late, and my lot determined, that I had not had

this letter, nor heard him take my part to that vile woman; for then I

should have blessed myself in having escaped so happily his designing

arts upon my virtue: but now my poor mind is all topsy-turvied, and I

have made an escape to be more a prisoner. But I hope, since thus it is, that all will be for the best; and I

shall, with your prudent advice, and pious prayers, be able to overcome

this weakness.--But, to be sure, my dear sir, I will keep a longer time

than a twelvemonth, as a true widow, for a compliment, and more than a

compliment, to your ashes! O the dear word!--How kind, how moving,

how affectionate is the word! O why was I not a duchess, to shew my

gratitude for it! But must labour under the weight of an obligation,

even had this happiness befallen me, that would have pressed me to

death, and which I never could return by a whole life of faithful love,

and cheerful obedience. O forgive your poor daughter!--I am sorry to find this trial so sore

upon me; and that all the weakness of my weak sex, and tender years, who

never before knew what it was to be so touched, is come upon me, and

too mighty to be withstood by me.--But time, prayer, and resignation to

God's will, and the benefits of your good lessons, and examples, I hope,

will enable me to get over this so heavy a trial. O my treacherous, treacherous heart! to serve me thus! and give no

notice to me of the mischiefs thou wast about to bring upon me!--But

thus foolishly to give thyself up to the proud invader, without ever

consulting thy poor mistress in the least! But thy punishment will

be the first and the greatest; and well deservest thou to smart, O

perfidious traitor! for giving up so weakly thy whole self, before a

summons came; and to one, too, who had used me so hardly; and when,

likewise, thou hadst so well maintained thy post against the most

violent and avowed, and, therefore, as I thought, more dangerous

attacks! After all, I must either not shew you this my weakness, or tear it out

of my writing. Memorandum: to consider of this, when I get home. Monday morning, eleven o'clock. We are just come in here, to the inn kept by Mrs. Jewkes's relation. The

first compliment I had, was in a very impudent manner, How I liked the

'squire?--I could not help saying, Bold, forward woman! Is it for you,

who keep an inn, to treat passengers at this rate? She was but in jest,

she said, and asked pardon: And she came, and begged excuse again, very

submissively, after Robin and Mr. Colbrand had talked to her a little. The latter here, in great form, gave me, before Robin, the letter which

I had given him back for that purpose. And I retired, as if to read

it; and so I did; for I think I can't read it too often; though, for

my peace of mind's sake, I might better try to forget it. I am sorry,

methinks, I cannot bring you back a sound heart; but, indeed, it is

an honest one, as to any body but me; for it has deceived nobody else:

Wicked thing that it is! More and more surprising things still---Just as I had sat down, to try to eat a bit of victuals, to get ready

to pursue my journey, came in Mr. Colbrand in a mighty hurry. O madam!

madam! said he, here be de groom from de 'Squire B----, all over in a

lather, man and horse! O how my heart went pit-a-pat! What now, thought

I, is to come next! He went out, and presently returned with a letter

for me, and another, enclosed, for Mr. Colbrand. This seemed odd, and

put me all in a trembling. So I shut the door; and never, sure, was the

like known! found the following agreeable contents:-'In vain, my Pamela, do I find it to struggle against my affection for

you. I must needs, after you were gone, venture to entertain myself with

your Journal, when I found Mrs. Jewkes's bad usage of you, after your

dreadful temptations and hurts; and particularly your generous concern

for me, on hearing how narrowly I escaped drowning; (though my death

would have been your freedom, and I had made it your interest to

wish it); and your most agreeable confession in another place, that,

notwithstanding all my hard usage of you, you could not hate me; and

that expressed in so sweet, so soft, and so innocent a manner, that I

flatter myself you may be brought to love me: (together with the other

parts of your admirable Journal:) I began to repent my parting with you;

but, God is my witness! for no unlawful end, as you would call it; but

the very contrary: and the rather, as all this was improved in your

favour, by your behaviour at leaving my house: For, oh! that melodious

voice praying for me at your departure, and thanking me for my rebuke

to Mrs. Jewkes, still hangs upon my ears, and delights my memory. And

though I went to bed, I could not rest; but about two got up, and made

Thomas get one of the best horses ready, in order to set out to overtake

you, while I sat down to write this to you. 'Now, my dear Pamela, let me beg of you, on the receipt of this, to

order Robin to drive you back again to my house. I would have set out

myself, for the pleasure of bearing you company back in the chariot; but

am really indisposed; I believe, with vexation that I should part thus

with my soul's delight, as I now find you are, and must be, in spite of

the pride of my own heart. 'You cannot imagine the obligation your return will lay me under to your

goodness; and yet, if you will not so far favour me, you shall be under

no restraint, as you will see by my letter enclosed to Colbrand; which

I have not sealed, that you may read it. But spare me, my dearest girl!

the confusion of following you to your father's; which I must do, if you

persist to go on; for I find I cannot live a day without you. 'If you are the generous Pamela I imagine you to be, (for hitherto you

have been all goodness, where it has not been merited,) let me see, by

this new instance, the further excellence of your disposition; let me

see you can forgive the man who loves you more than himself; let me see,

by it, that you are not prepossessed in any other person's favour: And

one instance more I would beg, and then I am all gratitude; and that is,

that you would despatch Monsieur Colbrand with a letter to your father,

assuring him that all will end happily; and to desire, that he will

send to you, at my house, the letters you found means, by Williams's

conveyance, to send him. And when I have all my proud, and, perhaps,

punctilious doubts answered, I shall have nothing to do, but to make you

happy, and be so myself. For I must be 'Yours, and only yours.' 'Monday morn, near three o'clock.' O my exulting heart! how it throbs in my bosom, as if it would reproach

me for so lately upbraiding it for giving way to the love of so dear

a gentleman!--But take care thou art not too credulous neither, O fond

believer! Things that we wish, are apt to gain a too ready credence with

us. This sham-marriage is not yet cleared up: Mrs. Jewkes, the vile Mrs.

Jewkes! may yet instigate the mind of this master: His pride of heart,

and pride of condition, may again take place: And a man that could in so

little a space, first love me, then hate, then banish me his house,

and send me away disgracefully; and now send for me again, in such

affectionate terms, may still waver, may still deceive thee. Therefore

will I not acquit thee yet, O credulous, fluttering, throbbing mischief!

that art so ready to believe what thou wishest! And I charge thee to

keep better guard than thou hast lately done, and lead me not to follow

too implicitly thy flattering and desirable impulses. Thus foolishly

dialogued I with my heart; and yet, all the time, this heart is Pamela. I opened the letter to Monsieur Colbrand; which was in these words:-'MONSIEUR, 'I am sure you'll excuse the trouble I give you. I have, for good

reasons, changed my mind; and I have besought it, as a favour, that Mrs.

Andrews will return to me the moment Tom reaches you. I hope, for the

reasons I have given her, she will have the goodness to oblige me. But,

if not, you are to order Robin to pursue his directions, and set her

down at her father's door. If she will oblige me in her return, perhaps

she'll give you a letter to her father, for some papers to be delivered

to you for her; which you'll be so good, in that case, to bring to her

here: But if she will not give you such a letter, you'll return with her

to me, if she please to favour me so far; and that with all expedition,

that her health and safety will permit; for I am pretty much indisposed;

but hope it will be but slight, and soon go off. I am 'Yours, etc.' 'On second thoughts, let Tom go forward with Mrs. Andrews's letter, if

she pleases to give one; and you return with her, for her safety.' Now this is a dear generous manner of treating me. O how I love to be

generously used!--Now, my dear parents, I wish I could consult you for

your opinions, how I should act. Should I go back, or should I

not?--I doubt he has got too great hold in my heart, for me to be easy

presently, if I should refuse: And yet this gipsy information makes me

fearful. Well, I will, I think, trust in his generosity! Yet is it not too great

a trust?--especially considering how I have been used!--But then that

was while he avowed his bad designs; and now he gives great hope of

his good ones. And I may be the means of making many happy, as well as

myself, by placing a generous confidence in him. And then, I think, he might have sent to Colbrand, or to Robin, to carry

me back, whether I would or not. And how different is his behaviour to

that! And would it not look as if I was prepossessed, as he calls it, if

I don't oblige him; and as if it was a silly female piece of pride, to

make him follow me to my father's; and as if I would use him hardly in

my turn, for his having used me ill in his? Upon the whole, I resolved

to obey him; and if he uses me ill afterwards, double will be his

ungenerous guilt!--Though hard will be my lot, to have my credulity so

justly blamable, as it will then seem. For, to be sure, the world, the

wise world, that never is wrong itself, judges always by events. And if

he should use me ill, then I shall be blamed for trusting him: If well,

O then I did right, to be sure!--But how would my censurers act in

my case, before the event justifies or condemns the action, is the

question? Then I have no notion of obliging by halves; but of doing things with

a grace, as one may say, where they are to be done; and so I wrote

the desired letter to you, assuring you, that I had before me happier

prospects than ever I had; and hoped all would end well: And that I

begged you would send me, by the bearer, Mr. Thomas, my master's groom,

those papers, which I had sent you by Mr. Williams's conveyance: For

that they imported me much, for clearing up a point in my conduct, that

my master was desirous to know, before he resolved to favour me, as he

had intended.--But you will have that letter, before you can have this;

for I would not send you this without the preceding; which now is in my

master's hands. And so, having given the letter to Mr. Thomas for him to carry to

you, when he had baited and rested after his great fatigue, I sent for

Monsieur Colbrand, and Robin, and gave to the former his letter; and

when he had read it, I said, You see how things stand. I am resolved to

return to our master; and as he is not so well as were to be wished, the

more haste you make the better: and don't mind my fatigue, but consider

only yourselves, and the horses. Robin, who guessed the matter, by his

conversation with Thomas, (as I suppose,) said, God bless you, madam,

and reward you, as your obligingness to my good master deserves; and may

we all live to see you triumph over Mrs. Jewkes! I wondered to hear him say so; for I was always careful of exposing my

master, or even that naughty woman, before the common servants. But yet

I question whether Robin would have said this, if he had not guessed,

by Thomas's message, and my resolving to return, that I might stand well

with his master. So selfish are the hearts of poor mortals, that they

are ready to change as favour goes! So they were not long getting ready; and I am just setting out, back

again: and I hope I shall have no reason to repent it. Robin put on very vehemently; and when we came to the little town, where

we lay on Sunday night, he gave his horses a bait, and said, he would

push for his master's that night, as it would be moon-light, if I should

not be too much fatigued because there was no place between that and

the town adjacent to his master's, fit to put up at, for the night. But

Monsieur Colbrand's horse beginning to give way, made a doubt between

them: wherefore I said, (hating to be on the road,) if it could be done,

I should bear it well enough, I hoped; and that Monsieur Colbrand

might leave his horse, when it failed, at some house, and come into the

chariot. This pleased them both; and, about twelve miles short, he left

the horse, and took off his spurs and holsters, etc. and, with abundance

of ceremonial excuses, came into the chariot; and I sat the easier

for it; for my bones ached sadly with the jolting, and so many miles

travelling in so few hours, as I have done, from Sunday night, five

o'clock. But, for all this, it was eleven o'clock at night, when we came

to the village adjacent to my master's; and the horses began to be very

much tired, and Robin too: but I said, It would be pity to put up only

three miles short of the house. So about one we reached the gate; but every body was a-bed. But one of

the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and opened the gates; and the

horses could hardly crawl into the stable. And I, when I went to get out

of the chariot, fell down, and thought I had lost the use of my limbs. Mrs. Jewkes came down with her clothes huddled on, and lifted up her

hands and eyes, at my return; but shewed more care of the horses than

of me. By that time the two maids came; and I made shift to creep in, as

well as I could. It seems my poor master was very ill indeed, and had been upon the bed

most part of the day; and Abraham (who succeeded John) sat up with him.

And he was got into a fine sleep, and heard not the coach come in, nor

the noise we made; for his chamber lies towards the garden,--on the

other side of the house. Mrs. Jewkes said, He had a feverish complaint,

and had been blooded; and, very prudently, ordered Abraham, when he

awaked, not to tell him I was come, for fear of surprising him, and

augmenting his fever; nor, indeed, to say any thing of me, till she

herself broke it to him in the morning, as she should see how he was. So I went to bed with Mrs. Jewkes, after she had caused me to drink

almost half a pint of burnt wine, made very rich and cordial, with

spices; which I found very refreshing, and set me into a sleep I little

hoped for. Tuesday morning. Getting up pretty early, I have written thus far, while Mrs. Jewkes lies

snoring in bed, fetching up her last night's disturbance. I long for her

rising, to know how my poor master does. 'Tis well for her she can sleep

so purely. No love, but for herself, will ever break her rest, I am

sure. I am deadly sore all over, as if I had been soundly beaten. I did

not think I could have lived under such fatigue. Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know how my master did, and

he had had a good night; and, having drank plentifully of sack whey,

had sweated much; so that his fever had abated considerably. She said

to him, that he must not be surprised, and she would tell him news. He

asked, What? And she said, I was come. He raised himself up in his bed;

Can it be? said he--What, already!--She told him I came last night.

Monsieur Colbrand coming to inquire of his health, he ordered him to

draw near him, and was highly pleased with the account he gave him of

the journey, my readiness to come back, and my willingness to reach

home that night. And he said, Why, these tender fair ones, I think, bear

fatigue better than us men. But she is very good, to give me such an

instance of her readiness to oblige me. Pray, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, take

great care of her health! and let her be a-bed all day. She told him I

had been up these two hours. Ask her, said he, if she will be so good as

to make me a visit: If she won't, I'll rise, and go to her. Indeed, sir,

said she, you must be still; and I'll go to her. But don't urge her too

much, said he, if she be unwilling. She came to me, and told me all the above; and I said, I would most

willingly wait upon him; for, indeed, I longed to see him, and was much

grieved he was so ill.--So I went down with her. Will she come? said

he, as I entered the room. Yes, sir, said we; and she said, at the first

word, Most willingly.--Sweet excellence! said he. As soon as he saw me, he said, O my beloved Pamela! you have made me

quite well. I'm concerned to return my acknowledgments to you in so

unfit a place and manner; but will you give me your hand? I did, and

he kissed it with great eagerness. Sir, said I, you do me too much

honour!--I am sorry you are so ill.--I can't be ill, said he, while you

are with me. I am very well already. Well, said he, and kissed my hand again, you shall not repent this

goodness. My heart is too full of it to express myself as I ought. But

I am sorry you have had such a fatiguing time of it.--Life is no life

without you! If you had refused me, and yet I had hardly hopes you would

oblige me, I should have had a severe fit of it, I believe; for I was

taken very oddly, and knew not what to make of myself: but now I shall

be well instantly. You need not, Mrs. Jewkes, added he, send for the

doctor from Stamford, as we talked yesterday; for this lovely creature

is my doctor, as her absence was my disease. He begged me to sit down by his bed-side, and asked me, if I had obliged

him with sending for my former packet? I said I had, and hoped it would

be brought. He said it was doubly kind. I would not stay long because of disturbing him. And he got up in the

afternoon, and desired my company; and seemed quite pleased, easy,

and much better. He said, Mrs. Jewkes, after this instance of my good

Pamela's obligingness in her return, I am sure we ought to leave her

entirely at her own liberty; and pray, if she pleases to take a turn in

our chariot, or in the garden, or to the town, or wherever she will,

let her be left at liberty, and asked no questions; and do you do all in

your power to oblige her. She said she would, to be sure. He took my hand, and said, One thing I will tell you, Pamela, because

I know you will be glad to hear it, and yet not care to ask me: I had,

before you went, taken Williams's bond for the money; for how the poor

man had behaved I can't tell, but he could get no bail; and if I have no

fresh reason given me, perhaps I shall not exact the payment; and he has

been some time at liberty, and now follows his school; but, methinks, I

could wish you would not see him at present. Sir, said I, I will not do any thing to disoblige you wilfully; and I am

glad he is at liberty, because I was the occasion of his misfortunes.

I durst say no more, though I wanted to plead for the poor gentleman;

which, in gratitude, I thought I ought, when I could do him service. I

said, I am sorry, sir, Lady Davers, who loves you so well, should have

incurred your displeasure, and that there should be any variance between

your honour and her; I hope it was not on my account. He took out of

his waistcoat pocket, as he sat in his gown, his letter-case, and said,

Here, Pamela, read that when you go up stairs, and let me have your

thoughts upon it; and that will let you into the affair. He said he was very heavy of a sudden, and would lie down, and indulge

for that day; and if he was better in the morning, would take an airing

in the chariot. And so I took my leave for the present, and went up

to my closet, and read the letter he was pleased to put into my hands;

which is as follows:-'BROTHER, 'I am very uneasy at what I hear of you; and must write, whether

it please you or not, my full mind. I have had some people with me,

desiring me to interpose with you; and they have a greater regard for

your honour, than, I am sorry to say it, you have yourself. Could I

think, that a brother of mine would so meanly run away with my late dear

mother's waiting-maid, and keep her a prisoner from all her friends, and

to the disgrace of your own? But I thought, when you would not let the

wench come to me on my mother's death, that you meant no good.--I blush

for you, I'll assure you. The girl was an innocent, good girl; but I

suppose that's over with her now, or soon will. What can you mean by

this, let me ask you? Either you will have her for a kept mistress, or

for a wife. If the former, there are enough to be had without ruining

a poor wench that my mother loved, and who really was a very good girl:

and of this you may be ashamed. As to the other, I dare say you don't

think of it; but if you should, you would be utterly inexcusable.

Consider, brother, that ours is no upstart family; but is as ancient

as the best in the kingdom! and, for several hundreds of years, it has

never been known, that the heirs of it have disgraced themselves by

unequal matches: And you know you have been sought to by some of the

best families in the nation, for your alliance. It might be well enough,

if you were descended of a family of yesterday, or but a remove or two

from the dirt you seem so fond of. But, let me tell you, that I, and all

mine, will renounce you for ever, if you can descend so meanly; and I

shall be ashamed to be called your sister. A handsome man, as you are,

in your person; so happy in the gifts of your mind, that every body

courts your company; and possessed of such a noble and clear estate; and

very rich in money besides, left you by the best of fathers and mothers,

with such ancient blood in your veins, untainted! for you to throw away

yourself thus, is intolerable; and it would be very wicked in you to

ruin the wench too. So that I beg you will restore her to her parents,

and give her 100L. or so, to make her happy in some honest fellow of her

own degree; and that will be doing something, and will also oblige and

pacify 'Your much grieved sister.' 'If I have written too sharply, consider it is my love to you, and

the shame you are bringing upon yourself; and I wish this may have the

effect upon you, intended by your very loving sister.' This is a sad letter, my dear father and mother; and one may see how

poor people are despised by the proud and the rich! and yet we were

all on a foot originally: And many of these gentry, that brag of their

ancient blood, would be glad to have it as wholesome, and as really

untainted, as ours!--Surely these proud people never think what a short

stage life is; and that, with all their vanity; a time is coming, when

they shall be obliged to submit to be on a level with us: And true said

the philosopher, when he looked upon the skull of a king, and that of a

poor man, that he saw no difference between them. Besides, do they not

know, that the richest of princes, and the poorest of beggars, are

to have one great and tremendous judge, at the last day; who will

not distinguish between them, according to their circumstances in

life?--But, on the contrary, may make their condemnations the greater,

as their neglected opportunities were the greater? Poor souls! how do I

pity their pride!--O keep me, Heaven! from their high condition, if my

mind shall ever be tainted with their vice! or polluted with so cruel

and inconsiderate a contempt of the humble estate which they behold with

so much scorn! But, besides, how do these gentry know, that, supposing they could trace

back their ancestry for one, two, three, or even five hundred years,

that then the original stems of these poor families, though they have

not kept such elaborate records of their good-for nothingness, as

it often proves, were not still deeper rooted?--And how can they

be assured, that one hundred years hence, or two, some of those now

despised upstart families may not revel in their estates, while their

descendants may be reduced to the others' dunghills!--And, perhaps, such

is the vanity, as well as changeableness, of human estates, in their

turns set up for pride of family, and despise the others! These reflections occurred to my thoughts, made serious by my master's

indisposition, and this proud letter of the lowly Lady Davers, against

the high-minded Pamela. Lowly, I say, because she could stoop to such

vain pride; and high-minded I, because I hope I am too proud ever to do

the like!--But, after all, poor wretches that we be! we scarce know what

we are, much less what we shall be!--But, once more pray I to be kept

from the sinful pride of a high estate. On this occasion I recall the following lines, which I have read; where

the poet argues in a much better manner:-"------------Wise Providence

Does various parts for various minds dispense:

The meanest slaves, or those who hedge and ditch,

Are useful, by their sweat, to feed the rich.

The rich, in due return, impart their store;

Which comfortably feeds the lab'ring poor.

Nor let the rich the lowest slave disdain:

He's equally a link of Nature's chain:

Labours to the same end, joins in one view;

And both alike the will divine pursue;

And, at the last, are levell'd, king and slave,

Without distinction, in the silent grave." Wednesday morning. My master sent me a message just now, that he was so much better, that

he would take a turn, after breakfast, in the chariot, and would have me

give him my company. I hope I shall know how to be humble, and comport

myself as I should do, under all these favours. Mrs. Jewkes is one of the most obliging creatures in the world; and I

have such respects shewn me by every one, as if I was as great as Lady

Davers--But now, if this should all end in the sham-marriage!--It cannot

be, I hope. Yet the pride of greatness and ancestry, and such-like,

is so strongly set out in Lady Davers's letter, that I cannot flatter

myself to be so happy as all these desirable appearances make for me.

Should I be now deceived, I should be worse off than ever. But I shall

see what light this new honour will procure me!--So I'll get ready. But

I won't, I think, change my garb. Should I do it, it would look as if I

would be nearer on a level with him: and yet, should I not, it might be

thought a disgrace to him: but I will, I think, open the portmanteau,

and, for the first time since I came hither, put on my best silk

nightgown. But then that will be making myself a sort of right to the

clothes I had renounced; and I am not yet quite sure I shall have no

other crosses to encounter. So I will go as I am; for, though ordinary,

I am as clean as a penny, though I say it. So I'll e'en go as I am,

except he orders otherwise. Yet Mrs. Jewkes says, I ought to dress

as fine as I can.--But I say, I think not. As my master is up, and at

breakfast, I will venture down to ask him how he will have me be. Well, he is kinder and kinder, and, thank God, purely recovered!--How

charmingly he looks, to what he did yesterday! Blessed be God for it! He arose, and came to me, and took me by the hand, and would set me down

by him; and he said, My charming girl seemed going to speak. What would

you say?--Sir, said I, (a little ashamed,) I think it is too great an

honour to go into the chariot with you. No, my dear Pamela, said he; the

pleasure of your company will be greater than the honour of mine; and so

say no more on that head. But, sir, said I, I shall disgrace you to go thus. You would grace a

prince, my fair-one, said the good, kind, kind gentleman! in that dress,

or any you shall choose: And you look so pretty, that, if you shall not

catch cold in that round-eared cap, you shall go just as you are. But,

sir, said I, then you'll be pleased to go a bye-way, that it mayn't be

seen you do so much honor to your servant. O my good girl! said he, I

doubt you are afraid of yourself being talked of, more than me: for I

hope by degrees to take off the world's wonder, and teach them to expect

what is to follow, as a due to my Pamela. O the dear good man! There's for you, my dear father and mother!--Did

I not do well now to come back?--O could I get rid of my fears of this

sham-marriage, (for all this is not yet inconsistent with that frightful

scheme,) I should be too happy! So I came up, with great pleasure, for my gloves: and now wait his kind

commands. Dear, dear sir! said I to myself, as if I was speaking to him,

for God's sake let me have no more trials and reverses; for I could not

bear it now, I verily think! At last the welcome message came, that my master was ready; and so I

went down as fast as I could; and he, before all the servants, handed me

in, as if I was a lady; and then came in himself. Mrs. Jewkes begged he

would take care he did not catch cold, as he had been ill. And I had the

pride to hear his new coachman say, to one of his fellow-servants, They

are a charming pair, I am sure! 'tis pity they should be parted!--O

my dear father and mother! I fear your girl will grow as proud as any

thing! And, especially, you will think I have reason to guard against

it, when you read the kind particulars I am going to relate. He ordered dinner to be ready by two; and Abraham, who succeeds John,

went behind the coach. He bid Robin drive gently, and told me, he wanted

to talk to me about his sister Davers, and other matters. Indeed, at

first setting out he kissed me a little too often, that he did; and I

was afraid of Robin's looking back, through the fore-glass, and people

seeing us, as they passed; but he was exceedingly kind to me, in his

words, as well. At last, he said, You have, I doubt not, read, over and over, my sister's saucy letter;

and find, as I told you, that you are no more obliged to her than I

am. You see she intimates, that some people had been with her; and who

should they be, but the officious Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman, and

Jonathan! and so that has made me take the measures I did in dismissing

them my service.--I see, said he, you are going to speak on their

behalfs; but your time is not come to do that, if ever I shall permit

it. My sister, says he, I have been beforehand with; for I have renounced

her. I am sure I have been a kind brother to her; and gave her to the

value of 3000L. more than her share came to by my father's will, when I

entered upon my estate. And the woman, surely, was beside herself with

passion and insolence, when she wrote me such a letter; for well she

knew I would not bear it. But you must know, Pamela, that she is much

incensed, that I will give no ear to a proposal of hers, of a

daughter of my Lord ----, who, said he, neither in person, or mind, or

acquirements, even with all her opportunities, is to be named in a day

with my Pamela. But yet you see the plea, my girl, which I made to you

before, of the pride of condition, and the world's censure, which, I

own, sticks a little too close with me still: for a woman shines not

forth to the public as man; and the world sees not your excellencies

and perfections: If it did, I should entirely stand acquitted by the

severest censures. But it will be taken in the lump; that here is

Mr. B----, with such and such an estate, has married his mother's

waiting-maid: not considering there is not a lady in the kingdom that

can out-do her, or better support the condition to which she will be

raised, if I should marry her. And, said he, putting his arm round me,

and again kissing me, I pity my dear girl too, for her part in this

censure; for, here will she have to combat the pride and slights of the

neighbouring gentry all around us. Sister Davers, you see, will never

be reconciled to you. The other ladies will not visit you; and you

will, with a merit superior to them all, be treated as if unworthy their

notice. Should I now marry my Pamela, how will my girl relish all this?

Won't these be cutting things to my fair-one? For, as to me, I shall

have nothing to do, but, with a good estate in possession, to brazen out

the matter of my former pleasantry on this subject, with my companions

of the chase, the green, and the assemblee; stand their rude jests for

once or twice, and my fortune will create me always respect enough, I

warrant you. But, I say, what will my poor girl do, as to her part, with

her own sex? For some company you must keep. My station will not admit

it to be with my servants; and the ladies will fly your acquaintance;

and still, though my wife, will treat you as my mother's

waiting-maid.--What says my girl to this? You may well guess, my dear father and mother, how transporting these

kind, these generous and condescending sentiments were to me!--I thought

I had the harmony of the spheres all around me; and every word that

dropped from his lips was as sweet as the honey of Hybla to me.--Oh!

sir, said I, how inexpressibly kind and good is all this! Your poor

servant has a much greater struggle than this to go through, a more

knotty difficulty to overcome. What is that? said he, a little impatiently: I will not forgive your

doubts now.--No, sir, said I, I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall

support, how I shall deserve your goodness to me.--Dear girl! said he,

and hugged me to his breast, I was afraid you would have made me angry

again; but that I would not be, because I see you have a grateful heart;

and this your kind and cheerful return, after such cruel usage as you

had experienced in my house, enough to make you detest the place, has

made me resolve to bear any thing in you, but doubts of my honour, at a

time when I am pouring out my soul, with a true and affectionate ardour,

before you. But, good sir, said I, my greatest concern will be for the rude jests

you will have yourself to encounter with, for thus stooping beneath

yourself. For, as to me, considering my lowly estate, and little merit,

even the slights and reflections of the ladies will be an honour to me:

and I shall have the pride to place more than half their ill will to

their envy at my happiness. And if I can, by the most cheerful duty, and

resigned obedience, have the pleasure to be agreeable to you, I shall

think myself but too happy, let the world say what it will. He said, You are very good, my dearest girl! But how will you bestow

your time, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No parties of

pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter evenings; and

even, as the taste is, half the day, summer and winter? And you have

often played with my mother, too, and so know how to perform a part

there, as well as in the other diversions: and I'll assure you, my girl,

I shall not desire you to live without such amusements, as my wife might

expect, were I to marry a lady of the first quality. O, sir, said I, you are all goodness! How shall I bear it?--But do you

think, sir, in such a family as yours, a person whom you shall honour

with the name of mistress of it, will not find useful employments for

her time, without looking abroad for any others? In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look

into such parts of the family economy, as may not be beneath the rank

to which I shall have the honour of being exalted, if any such there

can be; and this, I hope, without incurring the ill will of any honest

servant. Then, sir, I will ease you of as much of your family accounts, as I

possibly can, when I have convinced you that I am to be trusted with

them; and you know, sir, my late good lady made me her treasurer, her

almoner, and every thing. Then, sir, if I must needs be visiting or visited, and the ladies won't

honour me so much, or even if they would now and then, I will visit, if

your goodness will allow me so to do, the sick poor in the neighbourhood

around you; and administer to their wants and necessities, in such

matters as may not be hurtful to your estate, but comfortable to them;

and entail upon you their blessings, and their prayers for your dear

health and welfare. Then I will assist your housekeeper, as I used to do, in the making

jellies, comfits, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot, and

candy, and preserve for the uses of the family; and to make, myself, all

the fine linen of it for yourself and me. Then, sir, if you will sometimes indulge me with your company, I will

take an airing in your chariot now and then: and when you shall return

home from your diversions on the green, or from the chase, or where

you shall please to go, I shall have the pleasure of receiving you with

duty, and a cheerful delight; and, in your absence, count the moments

till you return; and you will, may be, fill up some part of my time, the

sweetest by far! with your agreeable conversation, for an hour or two

now and then; and be indulgent to the impertinent overflowings of my

grateful heart, for all your goodness to me. The breakfasting-time, the preparations for dinner, and sometimes to

entertain your chosen friends, and the company you shall bring home with

you, gentlemen, if not ladies, and the supperings, will fill up a great

part of the day in a very necessary manner. And, may be, sir, now and then a good-humoured lady will drop in; and,

I hope, if they do, I shall so behave myself, as not to add to the

disgrace you will have brought upon yourself: for, indeed, I will be

very circumspect, and try to be as discreet as I can; and as humble too,

as shall be consistent with your honour. Cards, 'tis true, I can play at, in all the usual games that our sex

delight in; but this I am not fond of, nor shall ever desire to play,

unless to induce such ladies, as you may wish to see, not to abandon

your house for want of an amusement they are accustomed to. Music, which our good lady taught me, will fill up some intervals, if I

should have any. And then, sir, you know, I love reading and scribbling; and though all

the latter will be employed in the family accounts, between the servants

and me, and me and your good self: yet reading, at proper times, will

be a pleasure to me, which I shall be unwilling to give up, for the best

company in the world, except yours. And, O sir! that will help to polish

my mind, and make me worthier of your company and conversation; and,

with the explanations you will give me, of what I shall not understand,

will be a sweet employment, and improvement too. But one thing, sir, I ought not to forget, because it is the chief: My

duty to God will, I hope, always employ some good portion of my time,

with thanks for his superlative goodness to me; and to pray for you and

myself: for you, sir, for a blessing on you, for your great goodness

to such an unworthy creature: for myself, that I may be enabled to

discharge my duty to you, and be found grateful for all the blessings

I shall receive at the hands of Providence, by means of your generosity

and condescension. With all this, sir, said I, can you think I shall be at a loss to pass

my time? But, as I know, that every slight to me, if I come to be so

happy, will be, in some measure, a slight to you, I will beg of you,

sir, not to let me go very fine in dress; but appear only so, as that

you may not be ashamed of it after the honour I shall have of being

called by your worthy name: for well I know, sir, that nothing so

much excites the envy of my own sex, as seeing a person above them in

appearance, and in dress. And that would bring down upon me an hundred

saucy things, and low-born brats, and I can't tell what! There I stopped; for I had prattled a great deal too much so early: and

he said, clasping me to him, Why stops my dear Pamela?--Why does she not

proceed? I could dwell upon your words all the day long; and you shall

be the directress of your own pleasures, and your own time, so sweetly

do you choose to employ it: and thus shall I find some of my own bad

actions atoned for by your exemplary goodness, and God will bless me for

your sake. O, said he, what pleasure you give me in this sweet foretaste of my

happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censurers of the world;

and bid them know your excellence, and my happiness, before they, with

unhallowed lips, presume to judge of my actions, and your merit!--And

let me tell you, my Pamela, that I can add my hopes of a still more

pleasing amusement, and what your bashful modesty would not permit you

to hint; and which I will no otherwise touch upon, lest it should

seem, to your nicety, to detract from the present purity of my good

intentions, than to say, I hope to have superadded to all these, such an

employment, as will give me a view of perpetuating my happy prospects,

and my family at the same time; of which I am almost the only male. I blushed, I believe; yet could not be displeased at the decent and

charming manner with which he insinuated this distant hope: And oh!

judge for me, how my heart was affected with all these things! He was pleased to add another charming reflection, which shewed me the

noble sincerity of his kind professions. I do own to you, my Pamela,

said he, that I love you with a purer flame than ever I knew in my whole

life; a flame to which I was a stranger; and which commenced for you in

the garden; though you, unkindly, by your unseasonable doubts, nipped

the opening bud, while it was too tender to bear the cold blasts of

slight or negligence. And I know more sincere joy and satisfaction in

this sweet hour's conversation with you, than all the guilty tumults

of my former passion ever did, or (had even my attempts succeeded) ever

could have afforded me. O, sir, said I, expect not words from your poor servant, equal to these

most generous professions. Both the means, and the will, I now see, are

given to you, to lay me under an everlasting obligation. How happy

shall I be, if, though I cannot be worthy of all this goodness and

condescension, I can prove myself not entirely unworthy of it! But I

can only answer for a grateful heart; and if ever I give you cause,

wilfully, (and you will generously allow for involuntary imperfections,)

to be disgusted with me, may I be an outcast from your house and favour,

and as much repudiated, as if the law had divorced me from you! But sir, continued I, though I was so unseasonable as I was in the

garden, you would, I flatter myself, had you then heard me, have

pardoned my imprudence, and owned I had some cause to fear, and to wish

to be with my poor father and mother: and this I the rather say,

that you should not think me capable of returning insolence for your

goodness; or appearing foolishly ungrateful to you, when you was so kind

to me. Indeed, Pamela, said he, you gave me great uneasiness; for I love you

too well not to be jealous of the least appearance of your indifference

to me, or preference to any other person, not excepting your parents

themselves. This made me resolve not to hear you; for I had not got

over my reluctance to marriage; and a little weight, you know, turns the

scale, when it hangs in an equal balance. But yet, you see, that though

I could part with you, while my anger held, yet the regard I had then

newly professed for your virtue, made me resolve not to offer to violate

it; and you have seen likewise, that the painful struggle I underwent

when I began to reflect, and to read your moving journal, between my

desire to recall you, and my doubt whether you would return, (though yet

I resolved not to force you to it,) had like to have cost me a severe

illness: but your kind and cheerful return has dispelled all my fears,

and given me hope, that I am not indifferent to you; and you see how

your presence has chased away my illness. I bless God for it, said I; but since you are so good as to encourage

me, and will not despise my weakness, I will acknowledge, that I

suffered more than I could have imagined, till I experienced it, in

being banished your presence in so much anger; and the more still was I

affected, when you answered the wicked Mrs. Jewkes so generously in

my favour, at my leaving your house. For this, sir, awakened all my

reverence for you; and you saw I could not forbear, not knowing what I

did, to break boldly in upon you, and acknowledge your goodness on my

knees. 'Tis true, my dear Pamela, said he, we have sufficiently tortured

one another; and the only comfort that can result from it, will be,

reflecting upon the matter coolly and with pleasure, when all these

storms are overblown, (as I hope they now are,) and we sit together

secured in each other's good opinion, recounting the uncommon gradations

by which we have ascended to the summit of that felicity, which I hope

we shall shortly arrive at. Meantime, said the good gentleman, let me hear what my dear girl would

have said in her justification, could I have trusted myself with her, as

to her fears, and the reason of her wishing herself from me, at a time

that I had begun to shew my fondness for her, in a manner that I thought

would have been agreeable to her and virtue. I pulled out of my pocket the gipsy letter; but I said, before I shewed

it to him, I have this letter, sir, to shew you, as what, I believe, you

will allow must have given me the greatest disturbance: but, first, as

I know not who is the writer, and it seems to be in a disguised hand, I

would beg it as a favour, that, if you guess who it is, which I cannot,

it may not turn to their prejudice, because it was written, very

probably, with no other view, than to serve me. He took it, and read it. And it being signed Somebody, he said, Yes,

this is indeed from Somebody; and, disguised as the hand is, I know the

writer: Don't you see, by the setness of some of these letters, and a

little secretary cut here and there, especially in that c, and that r,

that it is the hand of a person bred in the law-way? Why, Pamela, said

he, 'tis old Longman's hand: an officious rascal as he is!--But I have

done with him. O sir, said I, it would be too insolent in me to offer

(so much am I myself overwhelmed with your goodness,) to defend any body

that you are angry with: Yet, sir, so far as they have incurred your

displeasure for my sake, and for no other want of duty or respect, I

could wish--But I dare not say more. But, said he, as to the letter and the information it contains: Let me

know, Pamela, when you received this? On the Friday, sir, said I, that

you were gone to the wedding at Stamford.--How could it be conveyed

to you, said he, unknown to Mrs. Jewkes, when I gave her such a strict

charge to attend you, and you had promised me, that you would not throw

yourself in the way of such intelligence? For, said he, when I went to

Stamford, I knew, from a private intimation given me, that there would

be an attempt made to see you, or give you a letter, by somebody, if not

to get you away; but was not certain from what quarter, whether from my

sister Davers, Mrs. Jervis, Mr. Longman, or John Arnold, or your father;

and as I was then but struggling with myself, whether to give way to my

honourable inclinations, or to free you, and let you go to your father,

that I might avoid the danger I found myself in of the former; (for I

had absolutely resolved never to wound again even your ears with any

proposals of a contrary nature;) that was the reason I desired you to

permit Mrs. Jewkes to be so much on her guard till I came back, when I

thought I should have decided this disputed point within myself, between

my pride and my inclinations. This, good sir, said I, accounts well to me for your conduct in that

case, and for what you said to me and Mrs. Jewkes on that occasion: And

I see more and more how much I may depend upon your honour and goodness

to me.--But I will tell you all the truth. And then I recounted to him

the whole affair of the gipsy, and how the letter was put among the

loose grass, etc. And he said, The man who thinks a thousand dragons

sufficient to watch a woman, when her inclination takes a contrary bent,

will find all too little; and she will engage the stones in the

street, or the grass in the field, to act for her, and help on her

correspondence. If the mind, said he, be not engaged, I see there is

hardly any confinement sufficient for the body; and you have told me a

very pretty story; and, as you never gave me any reason to question your

veracity, even in your severest trials, I make no doubt of the truth

of what you have now mentioned: and I will, in my turn, give you such a

proof of mine, that you shall find it carry a conviction with it. You must know, then, my Pamela, that I had actually formed such a

project, so well informed was this old rascally Somebody! and the time

was fixed for the very person described in this letter to be here; and I

had thought he should have read some part of the ceremony (as little as

was possible, to deceive you) in my chamber; and so I hoped to have you

mine upon terms that then would have been much more agreeable to me than

real matrimony. And I did not in haste intend you the mortification of

being undeceived; so that we might have lived for years, perhaps, very

lovingly together; and I had, at the same time, been at liberty to

confirm or abrogate it as I pleased. O sir, said I, I am out of breath with the thoughts of my danger! But

what good angel prevented the execution of this deep-laid design? Why, your good angel, Pamela, said he; for when I began to consider,

that it would have made you miserable, and me not happy; that if you

should have a dear little one, it would be out of my own power to

legitimate it, if I should wish it to inherit my estate; and that, as I

am almost the last of my family, and most of what I possess must

descend to a strange line, and disagreeable and unworthy persons;

notwithstanding that I might, in this case, have issue of my own body;

when I further considered your untainted virtue, what dangers and

trials you had undergone by my means, and what a world of troubles I had

involved you in, only because you were beautiful and virtuous, which

had excited all my passion for you; and reflected also upon your tried

prudence and truth! I, though I doubted not effecting this my last plot,

resolved to overcome myself; and, however I might suffer in struggling

with my affection for you, to part with you, rather than to betray

you under so black a veil. Besides, said he, I remember how much I had

exclaimed against and censured an action of this kind, that had been

attributed to one of the first men of the law, and of the kingdom, as he

afterwards became; and that it was but treading in a path that another

had marked out for me; and, as I was assured, with no great satisfaction

to himself, when he came to reflect; my foolish pride was a little

piqued with this, because I loved to be, if I went out of the way, my

own original, as I may call it. On all these considerations it was, that

I rejected this project, and sent word to the person, that I had better

considered of the matter, and would not have him come, till he

heard further from me: And, in this suspense I suppose, some of your

confederates, Pamela, (for we have been a couple of plotters, though

your virtue and merit have procured you faithful friends and partisans,

which my money and promises could hardly do,) one way or other got

knowledge of it, and gave you this notice; but, perhaps, it would have

come too late, had not your white angel got the better of my black one,

and inspired me with resolutions to abandon the project, just as it

was to have been put into execution. But yet I own, that, from these

appearances, you were but too well justified in your fears, on this odd

way of coming at this intelligence; and I have only one thing to blame

you for, that though I was resolved not to hear you in your own defence,

yet, as you have so ready a talent at your pen, you might have cleared

your part of this matter up to me by a line or two; and when I had known

what seeming good grounds you had for pouring cold water on a young

flame, that was just then rising to an honourable expansion, should

not have imputed it, as I was apt to do, to unseasonable insult for my

tenderness to you, on one hand; to perverse nicety, on the other; or to

(what I was most alarmed by, and concerned for) prepossession for some

other person: And this would have saved us both much fatigue, I of mind,

you of body. And, indeed, sir, said I, of mind too; and I could not better manifest

this, than by the cheerfulness with which I obeyed your recalling me to

your presence. Ay, that, my dear Pamela, said he, and clasped me in his arms, was the

kind, the inexpressibly kind action, that has rivetted my affections

to you, and obliges me, in this free and unreserved manner, to pour my

whole soul into your bosom. I said, I had the less merit in this my return, because I was driven, by

an irresistible impulse to it; and could not help it, if I would. This, said he, (and honoured me by kissing my hand,) is engaging,

indeed; if I may hope, that my Pamela's gentle inclination for her

persecutor was the strongest motive to her return; and I so much value a

voluntary love in the person I would wish for my wife, that I would have

even prudence and interest hardly named in comparison with it: And can

you return me sincerely the honest compliment I now make you?--In

the choice I have made, it is impossible I should have any view to my

interest. Love, true love, is the only motive by which I am induced. And

were I not what I am, could you give me the preference to any other you

know in the world, notwithstanding what has passed between us? Why,

said I, should your so much obliged Pamela refuse to answer this kind

question? Cruel as I have thought you, and dangerous as your views to

my honesty have been; you, sir, are the only person living that ever was

more than indifferent to me: and before I knew this to be what I blush

now to call it, I could not hate you, or wish you ill, though, from my

soul, the attempts you made were shocking, and most distasteful to me. I am satisfied, my Pamela, said he; nor shall I want to see those papers

that you have kindly written for to your father; though I still wish to

see them too, for the sake of the sweet manner in which you relate what

has passed, and to have before me the whole series of your sufferings,

that I may learn what degree of kindness may be sufficient to recompense

you for them. In this manner, my dear father and mother, did your happy daughter find

herself blessed by her generous master! An ample recompense for all her

sufferings did I think this sweet conversation only. A hundred tender

things he expressed besides, that though they never can escape my

memory, yet would be too tedious to write down. Oh, how I blessed God,

and, I hope, ever shall, for all his gracious favours to his unworthy

handmaid! What a happy change is this! And who knows but my kind, my

generous master, may put it in my power, when he shall see me not quite

unworthy of it, to be a means, without injuring him, to dispense around

me, to many persons, the happy influences of the condition to which

I shall be, by his kind favour, exalted? Doubly blest shall I be, in

particular, if I can return the hundredth part of the obligations I owe

to such honest good parents, to whose pious instructions and examples,

under God, I owe all my present happiness, and future prospects.--O

the joy that fills my mind on these proud hopes! on these delightful

prospects!--It is too mighty for me, and I must sit down to ponder all

these things, and to admire and bless the goodness of that Providence,

which has, through so many intricate mazes, made me tread the paths of

innocence, and so amply rewarded me for what it has itself enabled me to

do! All glory to God alone be ever given for it, by your poor enraptured

daughter!---I will now continue my most pleasing relation. As the chariot was returning home from this sweet airing, he said, From

all that has passed between us in this pleasing turn, my Pamela will

see, and will believe, that the trials of her virtue are all over from

me: But, perhaps, there will be some few yet to come of her patience and

humility. For I have, at the earnest importunity of Lady Darnford, and

her daughters, promised them a sight of my beloved girl: And so I intend

to have their whole family, and Lady Jones, and Mrs. Peters's family, to

dine with me once in a few days. And, since I believe you would hardly

choose, at present, to grace the table on the occasion, till you can do

it in your own right, I should be glad you would not refuse coming down

to us if I should desire it; for I would preface our nuptials, said the

dear gentleman! O what a sweet word was that!--with their good opinion

of your merits: and to see you, and your sweet manner, will be enough

for that purpose; and so, by degrees, prepare my neighbours for what

is to follow: And they already have your character from me, and are

disposed to admire you. Sir, said I, after all that has passed, I should be unworthy, if I could

not say, that I can have no will but yours: And however awkwardly

I shall behave in such company, weighed down with a sense of

your obligations on one side, and my own unworthiness, with their

observations on the other, I will not scruple to obey you. I am obliged to you, Pamela, said he, and pray be only dressed as you

are; for since they know your condition, and I have told them the story

of your present dress, and how you came by it, one of the young ladies

begs it as a favour, that they may see you just as you are: and I am

the rather pleased it should be so, because they will perceive you owe

nothing to dress, but make a much better figure with your own native

stock of loveliness, than the greatest ladies arrayed in the most

splendid attire, and adorned with the most glittering jewels. O sir, said I, your goodness beholds your poor servant in a light

greatly beyond her merit! But it must not be expected, that others,

ladies especially, will look upon me with your favourable eyes: but,

nevertheless, I should be best pleased to wear always this humble garb,

till you, for your own sake, shall order it otherwise: for, oh,

sir, said I, I hope it will be always my pride to glory most in your

goodness! and it will be a pleasure to me to shew every one, that, with

respect to my happiness in this life, I am entirely the work of your

bounty; and to let the world see from what a lowly original you have

raised me to honours, that the greatest ladies would rejoice in. Admirable Pamela! said he; excellent girl!--Surely thy sentiments are

superior to those of all thy sex!--I might have addressed a hundred fine

ladies; but never, surely, could have had reason to admire one as I do

you. As, my dear father and mother, I repeat these generous sayings, only

because they are the effect of my master's goodness, being far from

presuming to think I deserve one of them; so I hope you will not

attribute it to my vanity; for I do assure you, I think I ought rather

to be more humble, as I am more obliged: for it must be always a sign of

a poor condition, to receive obligations one cannot repay; as it is of

a rich mind, when it can confer them without expecting or needing a

return. It is, on one side, the state of the human creature, compared,

on the other, to the Creator; and so, with due deference, may his

beneficence be said to be Godlike, and that is the highest that can be

said. The chariot brought us home at near the hour of two; and, blessed be

God, my master is pure well, and cheerful; and that makes me hope he

does not repent him of his late generous treatment of me. He handed me

out of the chariot, and to the parlour, with the same goodness, that

he shewed when he put me into it, before several of the servants. Mrs.

Jewkes came to inquire how he did. Quite well, Mrs. Jewkes, said he;

quite well: I thank God, and this good girl, for it!--I am glad of it,

said she; but I hope you are not the worse for my care, and my doctoring

of you!--No, but the better, Mrs. Jewkes, said he; you have much obliged

me by both. Then he said, Mrs. Jewkes, you and I have used this good girl very

hardly.--I was afraid, sir, said she, I should be the subject of her

complaints.--I assure you, said he, she has not opened her lips about

you. We have had a quite different subject to talk of; and I hope she

will forgive us both: You especially she must; because you have

done nothing but by my orders. But I only mean, that the necessary

consequence of those orders has been very grievous to my Pamela: And now

comes our part to make her amends, if we can. Sir, said she, I always said to madam (as she called me), that you was

very good, and very forgiving. No, said he, I have been stark naught;

and it is she, I hope, will be very forgiving. But all this preamble is

to tell you, Mrs. Jewkes, that now I desire you'll study to oblige her,

as much as (to obey me) you was forced to disoblige her before. And

you'll remember, that in every thing she is to be her own mistress. Yes, said she, and mine too, I suppose, sir? Ay, said the generous

gentleman, I believe it will be so in a little time.--Then, said she,

I know how it will go with me! And so put her handkerchief to her

eyes.--Pamela, said my master, comfort poor Mrs. Jewkes. This was very generous, already to seem to put her in my power: and I

took her by the hand, and said, I shall never take upon me, Mrs. Jewkes,

to make a bad use of any opportunities that may be put into my hands by

my generous master; nor shall I ever wish to do you any disservice, if

I might: for I shall consider, that what you have done, was in obedience

to a will which it will become me also to submit to and so, if the

effects of our obedience may be different, yet as they proceed from one

cause, that must be always reverenced by me. See there, Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, we are both in generous hands;

and indeed, if Pamela did not pardon you, I should think she but half

forgave me, because you acted by my instructions.--Well, said she,

God bless you both together, since it must be so; and I will double my

diligence to oblige my lady, as I find she will soon be. O my dear father and mother! now pray for me on another score; for

fear I should grow too proud, and be giddy and foolish with all these

promising things, so soothing to the vanity of my years and sex. But

even to this hour can I pray, that God would remove from me all these

delightful prospects, if they were likely so to corrupt my mind, as to

make me proud and vain, and not acknowledge, with thankful humility,

the blessed Providence which has so visibly conducted me through the

dangerous paths I have trod, to this happy moment. My master was pleased to say, that he thought I might as well dine with

him, since he was alone: But I begged he would excuse me, for fear, as

I said, such excess of goodness and condescension, all at once, should

turn my head;--and that he would, by slower degrees, bring on my

happiness, lest I should not know how to bear it. Persons that doubt themselves, said he, seldom do amiss: And if there

was any fear of what you say, you could not have it in your thoughts:

for none but the presumptuous, the conceited, and the thoughtless, err

capitally. But, nevertheless, said he, I have such an opinion of your

prudence, that I shall generally think what you do right, because it is

you that do it. Sir, said I, your kind expressions shall not be thrown away upon me, if

I can help it; for they will task me with the care of endeavouring to

deserve your good opinion, and your approbation, as the best rule of my

conduct. Being then about to go up stairs, Permit me, sir, said I, (looking about

me with some confusion, to see that nobody was there,) thus on my knees

to thank you, as I often wanted to do in the chariot, for all your

goodness to me, which shall never, I hope, be cast away upon me. And so

I had the boldness to kiss his hand. I wonder, since, how I came to be so forward. But what could I do?--My

poor grateful heart was like a too full river, which overflows its

banks: and it carried away my fear and my shamefacedness, as that does

all before it on the surface of its waters! He clasped me in his arms with transport, and condescendingly kneeled by

me, and kissing me, said, O my dear obliging good girl, on my knees, as

you on yours, I vow to you everlasting truth and fidelity! and may God

but bless us both with half the pleasures that seem to be before us, and

we shall have no reason to envy the felicity of the greatest princes!--O

sir, said I, how shall I support so much goodness! I am poor, indeed,

in every thing, compared to you! and how far, very far, do you, in every

generous way, leave me behind you! He raised me, and, as I bent towards the door, led me to the stairs

foot, and, saluting me there again, left me to go up to my closet, where

I threw myself on my knees in raptures of joy, and blessed that gracious

God, who had thus changed my distress to happiness, and so abundantly

rewarded me for all the sufferings I had passed through.--And oh, how

light, how very light, do all those sufferings now appear, which then

my repining mind made so grievous to me!--Hence, in every state of life,

and in all the changes and chances of it, for the future, will I trust

in Providence, who knows what is best for us, and frequently turns the

very evils we most dread, to be the causes of our happiness, and of our

deliverance from greater.--My experiences, young as I am, as to this

great point of reliance on God, are strong, though my judgment in

general may be weak and uninformed: but you'll excuse these reflections,

because they are your beloved daughter's; and, so far as they are not

amiss, derive themselves from the benefit of yours and my late good

lady's examples and instructions. I have written a vast deal in a little time; and shall only say, to

conclude this delightful Wednesday, That in the afternoon my good master

was so well, that he rode out on horseback, and came home about nine at

night; and then stepped up to me, and, seeing me with pen and ink

before me in my closet, said, I come only to tell you I am very well, my

Pamela: and since I have a letter or two to write, I will leave you to

proceed in yours, as I suppose that was your employment, (for I had put

by my papers at his coming up,) and so he saluted me, bid me good night,

and went down; and I finished up to this place before I went to bed.

Mrs. Jewkes told me, if it was more agreeable to me, she would be in

another room; but I said, No thank you, Mrs. Jewkes; pray let me have

your company. And she made me a fine courtesy, and thanked me.--How

times are altered! Thursday. This morning my master came up to me, and talked with me on various

subjects, for a good while together, in the most kind manner. Among

other things, he asked me, if I chose to order any new clothes against

my marriage. (O how my heart flutters when he mentions this subject so

freely!) I said, I left every thing to his good pleasure, only repeated

my request, for the reasons aforegiven, that I might not be too fine. He said, I think, my dear, it shall be very private: I hope you are not

afraid of a sham-marriage; and pray get the service by heart, that you

may see nothing is omitted. I glowed between shame and delight. O how I

felt my cheeks burn! I said, I feared nothing, I apprehended nothing, but my own

unworthiness. Said he, I think it shall be done within these fourteen

days, from this day, at this house. O how I trembled! but not with

grief, you may believe--What says my girl? Have you to object against

any day of the next fourteen: because my affairs require me to go to my

other house, and I think not to stir from this till I am happy with you? I have no will but yours, said I (all glowing like the fire, as I could

feel:) But, sir, did you say in the house? Ay, said he; for I care not

how privately it be done; and it must be very public if we go to church.

It is a holy rite, sir, said I; and would be better, methinks, in a holy

place. I see (said he, most kindly) my lovely maid's confusion; and your

trembling tenderness shews I ought to oblige you all I may. Therefore

I will order my own little chapel, which has not been used for two

generations, for any thing but a lumber-room, because our family seldom

resided here long together, to be cleared and cleaned, and got ready for

the ceremony, if you dislike your own chamber or mine. Sir, said I, that will be better than the chamber, and I hope it will

never be lumbered again, but kept to the use for which, as I presume, it

has been consecrated. O yes, said he, it has been consecrated, and that

several ages ago, in my great great grandfather's time, who built that

and the good old house together. But now, my good girl, if I do not too much add to your sweet confusion,

shall it be in the first seven days, or the second of this fortnight? I

looked down, quite out of countenance. Tell me, said he. In the second, if you please, sir, said I.--As you please, said he most

kindly; but I should thank you, Pamela, if you would choose the first.

I'd rather, sir, if you please, said I, have the second. Well, said he,

be it so; but don't defer it till the last day of the fourteen. Pray sir, said I, since you embolden me to talk on this important

subject, may I not send my dear father and mother word of my

happiness?--You may, said he; but charge them to keep it secret, till

you or I direct the contrary. And I told you, I would see no more of

your papers; but I meant, I would not without your consent: but if you

will shew them to me (and now I have no other motive for my curiosity,

but the pleasure I take in reading what you write,) I shall acknowledge

it as a favour. If, sir, said I, you will be pleased to let me write over again one

sheet, I will; though I had relied upon your word, and not written them

for your perusal. What is that? said he: though I cannot consent to it

beforehand: for I more desire to see them, because they are your

true sentiments at the time, and because they were not written for my

perusal. Sir, said I, what I am loath you should see, are very severe

reflections on the letter I received by the gipsy, when I apprehended

your design of the sham-marriage; though there are other things I would

not have you see; but that is the worst. It can't be worse, said he, my

dear sauce-box, than I have seen already; and I will allow your treating

me in ever so black a manner, on that occasion, because it must have a

very black appearance to you.--Well, sir, said I, I think I will obey

you before night. But don't alter a word, said he. I won't, sir, replied

I, since you order it. While we were talking, Mrs. Jewkes came up, and said Thomas was

returned. O, said my master, let him bring up the papers: for he hoped,

and so did I, that you had sent them by him. But it was a great balk,

when he came up and said, Sir, Mr. Andrews did not care to deliver them;

and would have it, that his daughter was forced to write that letter

to him: and, indeed, sir, said he, the old gentleman took on sadly, and

would have it that his daughter was undone, or else, he said, she would

not have turned back, when on her way, (as I told him she did, said

Thomas,) instead of coming to them. I began to be afraid now that all

would be bad for me again. Well, Tom, said he, don't mince the matter; tell me, before Mrs.

Andrews, what they said. Why, sir, both he and Goody Andrews, after

they had conferred together upon your letter, madam, came out, weeping

bitterly, that grieved my very heart; and they said, Now all was over

with their poor daughter; and either she had written that letter by

compulsion, or had yielded to your honour; so they said; and was, or

would be ruined! My master seemed vexed, as I feared. And I said, Pray, sir, be so good

as to excuse the fears of my honest parents. They cannot know your

goodness to me. And so (said he, without answering me,) they refused to deliver the

papers? Yes, and please your honour, said Thomas, though I told them,

that you, madam, of your own accord, on a letter I had brought you, very

cheerfully wrote what I carried: But the old gentleman said, Why, wife,

there are in these papers twenty things nobody should see but ourselves,

and especially not the 'squire. O the poor girl has had so many

stratagems to struggle with! and now, at last, she has met with one that

has been too hard for her. And can it be possible for us to account for

her setting out to come to us, and in such post haste, and, when she had

got above half-way, to send us this letter, and to go back again of her

own accord, as you say; when we know that all her delight would have

been to come to us and to escape from the perils she had been so long

contending with? And then, and please your honour, he said, he could not

bear this; for his daughter was ruined, to be sure, before now. And so,

said Thomas, the good old couple sat themselves down, and, hand-in-hand,

leaning upon each other's shoulder, did nothing but lament.--I was

piteously grieved, said he; but all I could say could not comfort them;

nor would they give me the papers; though I told them I should deliver

them only to Mrs. Andrews herself. And so, and please your honour, I was

forced to come away without them. My good master saw me all bathed in tears at this description of your

distress and fears for me; and he said, I would not have you take on

so. I am not angry with your father in the main; he is a good man; and

I would have you write out of hand, and it shall be sent by the post to

Mr. Atkins, who lives within two miles of your father, and I'll enclose

it in a cover of mine, in which I'll desire Mr. Atkins, the moment it

comes to his hand, to convey it safely to your father or mother; and say

nothing of their sending their papers, that it may not make them uneasy;

for I want not now to see them on any other score than that of mere

curiosity; and that will do at any time. And so saying, he saluted me

before Thomas, and with his own handkerchief wiped my eyes; and said to

Thomas, The good old folks are not to be blamed in the main. They don't

know my honourable intentions by their dear daughter; who, Tom, will, in

a little time, be your mistress; though I shall keep the matter private

some days, and would not have it spoken of by my servants out of my

house. Thomas said, God bless your honour! You know best. And I said, O, sir,

you are all goodness!--How kind is this, to forgive the disappointment,

instead of being angry, as I feared you would! Thomas then withdrew. And

my master said, I need not remind you of writing out of hand, to make

the good folks easy: and I will leave you to yourself for that purpose;

only send me down such of your papers, as you are willing I should see,

with which I shall entertain myself for an hour or two. But, one thing,

added he, I forgot to tell you: The neighbouring gentry I mentioned

will be here tomorrow to dine with me, and I have ordered Mrs. Jewkes to

prepare for them. And must I, sir, said I, be shewn to them? O yes, said

he; that's the chief reason of their coming. And you'll see nobody equal

to yourself: don't be concerned. I opened my papers, as soon as my master had left me; and laid out those

beginning on the Thursday morning he set out for Stamford, 'with

the morning visit he made me before I was up, and the injunctions of

watchfulness, etc. to Mrs. Jewkes; the next day's gipsy affair, and my

reflections, in which I called him truly diabolical, and was otherwise

very severe, on the strong appearances the matter had then against him.

His return on Saturday, with the dread he put me in, on the offering to

search me for my papers which followed those he had got by Mrs. Jewkes's

means. My being forced to give them up. His carriage to me after he had

read them, and questions to me. His great kindness to me on seeing

the dangers I had escaped and the troubles I had undergone. And how I

unseasonably, in the midst of his goodness, expressed my desire of being

sent to you, having the intelligence of a sham-marriage, from the gipsy,

in my thoughts. How this enraged him, and made him turn me that very

Sunday out of his house, and send me on my way to you. The particulars

of my journey, and my grief at parting with him; and my free

acknowledgment to you, that I found, unknown to myself, I had begun to

love him, and could not help it. His sending after me, to beg my return;

but yet generously leaving me at my liberty, when he might have forced

me to return whether I was willing or not. My resolution to oblige him,

and fatiguing journey back. My concern for his illness on my return. His

kind reception of me, and shewing me his sister Davers's angry

letter, against his behaviour to me, desiring him to set me free, and

threatening to renounce him as a brother, if he should degrade himself

by marrying me. My serious reflections on this letter, etc.' (all which,

I hope, with the others, you will shortly see.) And this carried matters

down to Tuesday night last. All that followed was so kind on his side, being our chariot conference,

as above, on Wednesday morning, and how good he has been ever since,

that I thought I would go no further; for I was a little ashamed to be

so very open on that tender and most grateful subject; though his great

goodness to me deserves all the acknowledgments I can possibly make. And when I had looked these out, I carried them down myself into the

parlour to him; and said, putting them into his hands, Your allowances,

good sir, as heretofore; and if I have been too open and free in my

reflections or declarations, let my fears on one side, and my sincerity

on the other, be my excuse. You are very obliging, my good girl, said

he. You have nothing to apprehend from my thoughts, any more than from

my actions. So I went up, and wrote the letter to you, briefly acquainting you

with my present happiness, and my master's goodness, and expressing the

gratitude of heart, which I owe to the kindest gentleman in the world,

and assuring you, that I should soon have the pleasure of sending back

to you, not only those papers, but all that succeeded them to this time,

as I know you delight to amuse yourself in your leisure hours with my

scribble: And I said, carrying it down to my master, before I sealed it,

Will you please, sir, to take the trouble of reading what I write to my

dear parents? Thank you, Pamela, said he, and set me on his knee, while

he read it; and seemed much pleased with it; and giving it me again, You

are very happy, said he, my beloved girl, in your style and expressions:

and the affectionate things you say of me are inexpressibly obliging;

and again, with this kiss, said he, do I confirm for truth all that you

have promised for my intentions in this letter.--O what halcyon days are

these! God continue them!--A change would kill me quite. He went out in his chariot in the afternoon; and in the evening

returned, and sent me word, he would be glad of my company for a little

walk in the garden; and down I went that very moment. He came to meet me. So, says he, how does my dear girl do now?--Whom do

you think I have seen since I have been out?--I don't know, sir, said I.

Why, said he, there is a turning in the road, about five miles off,

that goes round a meadow, that has a pleasant foot-way, by the side of a

little brook, and a double row of limes on each side, where now and

then the gentry in the neighbourhood walk, and angle, and divert

themselves.--I'll shew it you next opportunity.--And I stept out of my

chariot, to walk across this meadow, and bid Robin meet me with it on

the further part of it: And whom should I 'spy there, walking, with a

book in his hand, reading, but your humble servant Mr. Williams! Don't

blush, Pamela, said he. As his back was towards me, I thought I would

speak to the man: and, before he saw me, I said, How do you, old

acquaintance? (for, said he, you know we were of one college for a

twelvemonth.) I thought the man would have jumped into the brook, he

gave such a start at hearing my voice, and seeing me. Poor man! said I. Ay, said he, but not too much of your poor man, in

that soft accent, neither, Pamela.--Said I, I am sorry my voice is so

startling to you, Mr. Williams. What are you reading? Sir, said he, and

stammered with the surprise, it is the French Telemachus; for I am about

perfecting myself, if I can, in the French tongue.--Thought I, I had

rather so, than perfecting my Pamela in it.--You do well, replied

I.--Don't you think that yonder cloud may give us a small shower? and it

did a little begin to wet.--He said, he believed not much. If, said I, you are for the village, I'll give you a cast; for I shall

call at Sir Simon's in my return from the little round I am taking. He

asked me if it was not too great a favour?--No, said I, don't talk of

that; let us walk to the further opening there, and we shall meet my

chariot. So, Pamela, continued my master, we fell into conversation as we walked.

He said he was very sorry he had incurred my displeasure; and the more,

as he had been told, by Lady Jones, who had it from Sir Simon's family,

that I had a more honourable view than at first was apprehended. I

said, We fellows of fortune, Mr. Williams, take sometimes a little more

liberty with the world than we ought to do; wantoning, very probably,

as you contemplative folks would say, in the sunbeams of a dangerous

affluence; and cannot think of confining ourselves to the common paths,

though the safest and most eligible, after all. And you may believe I

could not very well like to be supplanted in a view that lay next my

heart; and that by an old acquaintance, whose good, before this affair,

I was studious to promote. I would only say, sir, said he, that my first motive was entirely such

as became my function: And, very politely, said my master, he added, And

I am very sure, that however inexcusable I might seem in the progress

of the matter, yourself, sir, would have been sorry to have it said, you

had cast your thoughts on a person, that nobody could have wished for

but yourself. Well, Mr. Williams, said I, I see you are a man of gallantry, as well as

religion: But what I took most amiss was, that, if you thought me doing

a wrong thing, you did not expostulate with me upon it, as your function

might have allowed you to do; but immediately determined to counterplot

me, and attempt to secure to yourself a prize you would have robbed

me of, and that from my own house. But the matter is at an end, and I

retain not any malice upon it; though you did not know but I might, at

last, do honourably by her, as I actually intend. I am sorry for myself, sir, said he, that I should so unhappily

incur your displeasure; but I rejoice for her sake in your honourable

intentions: give me leave only to say, that if you make Miss Andrews

your lady, she will do credit to your choice with every body that

sees her, or comes to know her; and, for person and mind both, you may

challenge the county. In this manner, said my master, did the parson and I confabulate; and

I set him down at his lodgings in the village. But he kept your secret,

Pamela; and would not own, that you gave any encouragement to his

addresses. Indeed, sir, said I, he could not say that I did; and I hope you believe

me. I do, I do, said he: but 'tis still my opinion, that if, when I saw

plots set up against my plots, I had not discovered the parson as I did,

the correspondence between you might have gone to a length that would

have put our present situation out of both our powers. Sir, said I, when you consider, that my utmost presumption could not

make me hope for the honour you now seem to design me; that I was so

hardly used, and had no prospect before me but dishonour, you will allow

that I should have seemed very little in earnest in my professions of

honesty, if I had not endeavoured to get away: but yet I resolved not

to think of marriage; for I never saw the man I could love, till your

goodness emboldened me to look up to you. I should, my dear Pamela, said he, make a very ill compliment to my

vanity, if I did not believe you; though, at the same time, justice

calls upon me to say, that it is, some things considered, beyond my

merit. There was a sweet, noble expression for your poor daughter, my dear

father and mother!--And from my master too! I was glad to hear this account of the interview between Mr. Williams

and himself; but I dared not to say so. I hope in time he will be

reinstated in his good graces. He was so good as to tell me, he had given orders for the chapel to

be cleared. O how I look forward with inward joy, yet with fear and

trembling! Friday. About twelve o'clock came Sir Simon, and his lady and two daughters; and

Lady Jones, and a sister-in-law of hers; and Mr. Peters, and his

spouse and niece. Mrs. Jewkes, who is more and more obliging, was much

concerned I was not dressed in some of my best clothes, and made me many

compliments. They all went into the garden for a walk, before dinner; and, I

understood, were so impatient to see me, that my master took them into

the largest alcove, after they had walked two or three turns, and stept

himself to me. Come, my Pamela, said he, the ladies can't be satisfied

without seeing you, and I desire you'll come. I said, I was ashamed; but

I would obey him. Said he, The two young ladies are dressed out in their

best attire; but they make not such an appearance as my charming girl

in this ordinary garb.--Sir, said I, shan't I follow you thither? For

I can't bear you should do me so much honour. Well, said he, I'll go

before you. And he bid Mrs. Jewkes bring a bottle of sack, and some

cake. So he went down to them. This alcove fronts the longest gravel-walk in the garden, so that

they saw me all the way I came, for a good way: and my master told me

afterwards, with pleasure, all they said of me. Will you forgive the little vain slut, your daughter, if I tell you all,

as he was pleased to tell me? He said, 'spying me first, Look, there,

ladies, comes my pretty rustic!--They all, I saw, which dashed me, stood

at the windows, and in the door-way, looking full at me. My master told me, that Lady Jones said, She is a charming creature, I

see that, at this distance. And Sir Simon, it seems, who has been a sad

rake in his younger days, swore he never saw so easy an air, so fine

a shape, and so graceful a presence.--The Lady Darnford said, I was a

sweet girl. And Mrs. Peters said very handsome things. Even the parson

said, I should be the pride of the county. O, dear sirs! all this was

owing to the light my good master's favour placed me in, which made

me shine out in their eyes beyond my deserts. He said the young ladies

blushed, and envied me. When I came near, he saw me in a little confusion, and was so kind as

to meet me: Give me your hand, said he, my poor girl; you walk too fast,

(for, indeed, I wanted to be out of their gazing). I did so, with a

courtesy, and he led me up the steps of the alcove, and, in a most

gentleman-like manner, presented me to the ladies, and they all saluted

me, and said, They hoped to be better acquainted with me: and

Lady Darnford was pleased to say, I should be the flower of their

neighbourhood. Sir Simon said, Good neighbour, by your leave; and

saluting me, added, Now will I say, that I have kissed the loveliest

maiden in England. But, for all this, methought I owed him a grudge

for a tell-tale, though all had turned out so happily. Mr. Peters very

gravely followed his example, and said, like a bishop, God bless you,

fair excellence! said Lady Jones, Pray, dear madam, sit down by me:

and they all sat down: But I said, I would stand, if they pleased.

No, Pamela, said my master: pray sit down with these good ladies, my

neighbours:--They will indulge it to you, for my sake, till they know

you better; and for your own, when they are acquainted with you. Sir,

said I, I shall be proud to deserve their indulgence. They all so gazed at me, that I could not look up; for I think it is one

of the distinctions of persons of condition, and well-bred people, to

put bashful bodies out of countenance. Well, Sir Simon, said my master,

what say you now to my pretty rustic?--He swore a great oath, that he

should better know what to say to me if he was as young as himself. Lady

Darnford said, You will never leave, Sir Simon. Said my master, You are a little confused, my good girl, and out of

breath; but I have told all my kind neighbours here a good deal of your

story, and your excellence. Yes, said Lady Darnford, my dear neighbour,

as I will call you; we that are here present have all heard of your

uncommon story. Madam, said I, you have then heard what must make your

kind allowance for me very necessary. No, said Mrs. Peters, we have

heard what will always make you valued as an honour to our sex, and as

a worthy pattern for all the young ladies in the county. You are very

good, madam, said I, to make me able to look up, and to be thankful for

the honour you are pleased to do me. Mrs. Jewkes came in with the canary, brought by Nan, to the alcove, and

some cakes on a silver salver; and I said, Mrs. Jewkes, let me be your

assistant; I will serve the ladies with the cake. And so I took the

salver, and went round to the good company with it, ending with my

master. The Lady Jones said, She never was served with such a grace,

and it was giving me too much trouble. O, madam, said I, I hope my good

master's favour will never make me forget, that it is my duty to wait

upon his friends. Master, sweet one! said Sir Simon, I hope you won't

always call Mr. B---- by that name, for fear it should become a fashion

for all our ladies to do the like through the county. I, sir, said I,

shall have many reasons to continue this style, which cannot affect your

good ladies. Sir Simon, said Lady Jones, you are very arch upon us but I see very

well, that it will be the interest of all the gentlemen, to bring their

ladies into an intimacy with one that can give them such a good example.

I am sure then, madam, said I, it must be after I have been polished and

improved by the honour of such an example as yours. They all were very good and affable; and the young Lady Darnford, who

had wished to see me in this dress, said, I beg your pardon, dear miss,

as she called me; but I had heard how sweetly this garb became you, and

was told the history of it; and I begged it, as a favour, that you

might oblige us with your appearance in it. I am much obliged to your

ladyship, said I, that your kind prescription was so agreeable to my

choice. Why, said she, was it your choice then?--I am glad of that:

though I am sure your person must give, and not take, ornament from any

dress. You are very kind, madam, said I: but there will be the less reason to

fear I should forget the high obligations I should have to the kindest

of gentlemen, when I can delight to shew the humble degree from which

his goodness had raised me.--My dear Pamela, said my master, if you

proceed at this rate, I must insist upon your first seven days. You know

what I mean. Sir, said I, you are all goodness! They drank a glass of sack each, and Sir Simon would make me do so too,

saying, It will be a reflection, madam, upon all the ladies, if you

don't do as they. No, Sir Simon, said I, that can't be, because the

ladies' journey hither makes a glass of canary a proper cordial for

them: but I won't refuse; because I will do myself the honour of

drinking good health to you, and to all this worthy company. Said good Lady Darnford, to my master, I hope, sir, we shall have Mrs.

Andrews's company at table. He said, very obligingly, Madam, it is her

time now; and I will leave it to her choice. If the good ladies, then,

will forgive me, sir, said I, I had rather be excused. They all said,

I must not be excused. I begged I might. Your reason for it, my dear

Pamela? said my master: since the ladies request it, I wish you would

oblige them. Sir, replied I, your goodness will make me, every day,

worthier of the honour the ladies do me; and when I can persuade myself

that I am more worthy of it than at present, I shall with great joy

embrace all the opportunities they will be pleased to give me. Mrs. Peters whispered Lady Jones, as my master told me afterwards; Did

you ever see such excellence, such prudence, and discretion? Never in my

life, said the other good lady. She will adorn, she was pleased to say,

her distinction. Ay, says Mrs. Peters, she would adorn any station in

life. My good master was highly delighted, generous gentleman as he is! with

the favourable opinion of the ladies; and I took the more pleasure in

it, because their favour seemed to lessen the disgrace of his stooping

so much beneath himself. Lady Darnford said, We will not oppress you; though we could almost

blame your too punctilious exactness: but if we excuse Miss Andrews from

dinner, we must insist upon her company at the card-table, and at a dish

of tea; for we intend to pass the whole day with you, sir, as we told

you. What say you to that, Pamela, said my master. Sir, replied I,

whatever you and the ladies please, I will cheerfully do. They said, I

was very obliging. But Sir Simon rapt out an oath, and said, That they

might dine together, if they would; but he would dine with me, and

nobody else: for, said he, I say, sir, as Parson Williams said, (by

which I found my master had told them the story,) You must not think you

have chosen one that nobody can like but yourself. The young ladies said, If I pleased they would take a turn about the

garden with me. I answered, I would very gladly attend them; and so we

three, and Lady Jones's sister-in-law, and Mr. Peters's niece, walked

together. They were very affable, kind, and obliging; and we soon

entered into a good deal of familiarity; and I found Miss Darnford a

very agreeable person. Her sister was a little more on the reserve; and

I afterwards heard, that, about a year before, she would fain have had

my master make his addresses to her: but though Sir Simon is reckoned

rich, she was not thought sufficient fortune for him. And now, to have

him look down so low as me, must be a sort of mortification to a poor

young lady!--And I pitied her.--Indeed I did!--I wish all young persons

of my sex could be as happy as I am like to be. My master told me afterwards, that I left the other ladies, and Sir

Simon and Mr. Peters, full of my praises: so that they could hardly talk

of any thing else; one launching out upon my complexion, another upon my

eyes, my hand, and, in short, for you'll think me sadly proud, upon

my whole person and behaviour; and they all magnified my readiness and

obligingness in my answers, and the like: And I was glad of it, as I

said, for my good master's sake, who seemed quite pleased and rejoiced.

God bless him for his goodness to me! Dinner not being ready, the young ladies proposed a tune upon the

spinnet. I said, I believed it was not in tune. They said, they knew

it was but a few months ago. If it is, said I, I wish I had known it;

though indeed, ladies, added I, since you know my story, I must own,

that my mind has not been long in tune, to make use of it. So they would

make me play upon it, and sing to it; which I did, a song my dear good

lady made me learn, and used to be pleased with, and which she brought

with her from Bath: and the ladies were much taken with the song, and

were so kind as to approve my performance: And Miss Darnford was pleased

to compliment me, that I had all the accomplishments of my sex. I said,

I had had a good lady, in my master's mother, who had spared no

pains nor cost to improve me. She said, she wished Mr. B---- could be

prevailed upon to give a ball on an approaching happy occasion, that we

might have a dancing-match, etc.--But I can't say I do; though I did not

say so: for these occasions, I think, are too solemn for the principals,

at least of our sex, to take part in, especially if they have the same

thoughts of that solemnity that I have: For, indeed, though I have

before me a prospect of happiness, that may be envied by ladies of high

rank, yet I must own to you, my dear parents, that I have something

very awful upon my mind, when I think of the matter; and shall, more and

more, as it draws nearer and nearer. This is the song: I. Go, happy paper, gently steal,

And underneath her pillow lie;

There, in soft dreams, my love reveal,

That love which I must still conceal,

And, wrapt in awful silence, die. II. Should flames be doom'd thy hapless fate,

To atoms thou wouldst quickly turn:

My pains may bear a longer date;

For should I live, and should she hate,

In endless torments I should burn. III. Tell fair AURELIA, she has charms,

Might in a hermit stir desire.

T' attain the heav'n that's in her arms,

I'd quit the world's alluring harms,

And to a cell content, retire. IV. Of all that pleas'd my ravish'd eye,

Her beauty should supply the place;

Bold Raphael's strokes, and Titian's dye,

Should but in vain presume to vie

With her inimitable face. V. No more I'd wish for Phoebus' rays,

To gild the object of my sight;

Much less the taper's fainter blaze:

Her eyes should measure out my days; And when she slept, it should be night. About four o'clock. My master just came up to me, and said, If you should see Mr. Williams

below, do you think, Pamela, you should not be surprised?--No, sir, said

I, I hope not. Why should I? Expect, said he, a stranger then, when you

come down to us in the parlour; for the ladies are preparing themselves

for the card-table, and they insist upon your company.--You have a mind,

sir, said I, I believe, to try all my courage. Why, said he, does

it want courage to see him? No, sir, said I, not at all. But I was

grievously dashed to see all those strange ladies and gentlemen; and now

to see Mr. Williams before them, as some of them refused his application

for me, when I wanted to get away, it will a little shock me, to see

them smile, in recollecting what has passed of that kind. Well, said he,

guard your heart against surprises, though you shall see, when you

come down, a man that I can allow you to love dearly; though hardly

preferably to me. This surprises me much. I am afraid he begins to be jealous of me. What

will become of me, (for he looked very seriously,) if any turn should

happen now!--My heart aches! I know not what's the matter. But I will

go down as brisk as I can, that nothing may be imputed to me. Yet I

wish this Mr. Williams had not been there now, when they are all there;

because of their fleers at him and me. Otherwise I should be glad to

see the poor gentleman; for, indeed, I think him a good man, and he has

suffered for my sake. So, I am sent for down to cards. I'll go; but wish I may continue their

good opinions of me: for I shall be very awkward. My master, by his

serious question, and bidding me guard my heart against surprises,

though I should see, when I came down, a man he can allow me to love

dearly, though hardly better than himself, has quite alarmed me, and

made me sad!--I hope he loves me!--But whether he does or not, I am in

for it now, over head and ears, I doubt, and can't help loving him; 'tis

a folly to deny it. But to be sure I can't love any man preferably to

him. I shall soon know what he means. Now, my dear mother, must I write to you. Well might my good master say

so mysteriously as he did, about guarding my heart against surprises. I

never was so surprised in my life; and never could see a man I loved

so dearly!--O my dear mother, it was my dear, dear father, and not Mr.

Williams, that was below ready to receive and to bless your daughter!

and both my master and he enjoined me to write how the whole matter was,

and what my thoughts were on this joyful occasion. I will take the matter from the beginning, that Providence directed his

feet to this house, to this time, as I have had it from Mrs. Jewkes,

from my master, my father, the ladies, and my own heart and conduct, as

far as I know of both; because they command it, and you will be pleased

with my relation and so, as you know how I came by the connexion, will

make one uniform relation of it. It seems, then, my dear father and you were so uneasy to know the truth

of the story which Thomas had told you, that fearing I was betrayed, and

quite undone, he got leave of absence, and set out the day after Thomas

was there; and so, on Friday morning, he got to the neighbouring town;

and there he heard, that the gentry in the neighbourhood were at

my master's, at a great entertainment. He put on a clean shirt and

neckcloth (which he brought in his pocket) at an alehouse there, and got

shaved; and so, after he had eaten some bread and cheese, and drank

a can of ale, he set out for my master's house, with a heavy heart,

dreading for me, and in much fear of being brow-beaten. He had, it

seems, asked, at the alehouse, what family the 'squire had down here, in

hopes to hear something of me: And they said, A housekeeper, two maids,

and, at present, two coachmen, and two grooms, a footman, and a helper.

Was that all? he said. They told him, there was a young creature there,

belike who was, or was to be, his mistress, or somewhat of that nature;

but had been his mother's waiting-maid. This, he said, grieved his

heart, and confirmed his fears. So he went on, and about three o'clock in the afternoon came to the

gate; and, ringing there, Sir Simon's coachman went to the iron gate;

and he asked for the housekeeper; though, from what I had written, in

his heart he could not abide her. She sent for him in, little thinking

who he was, and asked him, in the little hall, what his business with

her was?--Only, madam, said he, whether I cannot speak one word with the

'squire? No, friend, said she; he is engaged with several gentlemen and

ladies. Said he, I have business with his honour of greater consequence

to me than either life or death; and tears stood in his eyes. At that she went into the great parlour, where my master was talking

very pleasantly with the ladies; and she said, Sir, here is a good tight

old man, that wants to see you on business of life and death, he says,

and is very earnest. Ay, said he, Who can that be?--Let him stay in the

little hall, and I'll come to him presently. They all seemed to stare;

and Sir Simon said, No more nor less, I dare say, my good friend, but

a bastard-child. If it is, said Lady Jones, bring it in to us. I will,

said he. Mrs. Jewkes tells me, my master was much surprised, when he saw who it

was; and she much more, when my dear father said,--Good God! give me

patience! but, as great as you are, sir, I must ask for my child! and

burst out into tears. (O what trouble have I given you both!) My master

said, taking him by the hand, Don't be uneasy, Goodman Andrews; your

daughter is in the way to be happy. This alarmed my dear father, and he said, What! then, is she dying? And

trembled, he could scarce stand. My master made him sit down, and sat

down by him, and said, No; God be praised! she is very well: And pray

be comforted; I cannot bear to see you thus apprehensive; but she has

written you a letter to assure you, that she has reason to be well

satisfied, and happy. Ah, sir I said he, you told me once she was in London, waiting on a

bishop's lady, when all the time she was a severe prisoner here.--Well,

that's all over now, Goodman Andrews, said my master: but the times are

altered; for now the sweet girl has taken me prisoner; and in a few days

I shall put on the most agreeable fetters that ever man wore. O, sir! said, he, you are too pleasant for my griefs. My heart's almost

broke. But may I not see my poor child? You shall presently, said he;

for she is coming down to us; and since you won't believe me, I hope you

will her. I will ask you, good sir, said he, but one question till then, that

I may know how to look upon her when I see her. Is she honest? Is she

virtuous?--As the new-born babe, Mr. Andrews, said my good master; and

in twelve days time, I hope, will be my wife. O flatter me not, good your honour, said he: It cannot be! it cannot

be!--I fear you have deluded her with strange hopes; and would make

me believe impossibilities!--Mrs. Jewkes, said he, do you tell my dear

Pamela's good father, when I go out, all you know concerning me, and

your mistress that is to be. Meantime, make much of him, and set out

what you have; and make him drink a glass of what he likes best. If this

be wine, added he, fill me a bumper. She did so; and he took my father by the hand, and said, Believe me,

good man, and be easy; for I can't bear to see you tortured in this

cruel suspense: Your dear daughter is the beloved of my soul. I am glad

you are come: for you'll see us all in the same story. And here's your

dame's health; and God bless you both, for being the happy means of

procuring for me so great a blessing! And so he drank a bumper to this

most obliging health. What do I hear? It cannot surely be! said my father. And your honour is

too good, I hope, to mock a poor old man--This ugly story, sir, of the

bishop, runs in my head--But you say I shall see my dear child--And I

shall see her honest.--If not, poor as I am, I would not own her. My master bid Mrs. Jewkes not to let me know yet, that my father

was come; and went to the company, and said, I have been agreeably

surprised: Here is honest old Goodman Andrews come full of grief to see

his daughter; for he fears she is seduced; and tells me, good honest

man, that, poor as he is, he will not own her, if she be not virtuous.

O, said they all, with one voice almost, Dear sir! shall we not see the

good old man you have so praised for his plain good sense, and honest

heart? If, said he, I thought Pamela would not be too much affected with

the surprise, I would make you all witness to their first interview; for

never did daughter love a father, or a father a daughter, as they two do

one another. Miss Darnford, and all the ladies, and the gentlemen too,

begged it might be so. But was not this very cruel, my dear mother? For

well might they think I should not support myself in such an agreeable

surprise. He said, kindly, I have but one fear, that the dear girl may be too much

affected. O, said Lady Darnford, we'll all help to keep up her spirits.

Says he, I'll go up, and prepare her; but won't tell her of it. So he

came up to me, as I have said, and amused me about Mr. Williams, to half

prepare me for some surprise; though that could not have been any thing

to this: and he left me, as I said, in that suspense, at his mystical

words, saying, He would send to me, when they were going to cards. My master went from me to my father, and asked if he had eaten any

thing. No, said Mrs. Jewkes; the good man's heart is so full, he cannot

eat, nor do any thing, till he has seen his dear daughter. That shall

soon be, said my master. I will have you come in with me; for she is

going to sit down with my guests, to a game at quadrille; and I will

send for her down. O, sir, said my father, don't, don't let me; I am not

fit to appear before your guests; let me see my daughter by myself,

I beseech you. Said he, They all know your honest character, Goodman

Andrews, and long to see you, for Pamela's sake. So he took my father by the hand, and led him in, against his will, to

the company. They were all very good. My master kindly said, Ladies and

gentlemen, I present to you one of the honestest men in England, my good

Pamela's father. Mr. Peters went to him, and took him by the hand, and

said, We are all glad to see you, sir; you are the happiest man in the

world in a daughter; whom we never saw before to-day, but cannot enough

admire. Said my master, This gentleman, Goodman Andrews, is the minister of the

parish; but is not young enough for Mr. Williams. This airy expression,

my poor father said, made him fear, for a moment, that all was a

jest.--Sir Simon also took him by the hand, and said, Ay, you have a

sweet daughter, Honesty; we are all in love with her. And the ladies

came, and said very fine things: Lady Darnford particularly, That he

might think himself the happiest man in England, in such a daughter. If,

and please you, madam, said he, she be but virtuous, 'tis all in all:

For all the rest is accident. But I doubt his honour has been too much

upon the jest with me. No, said Mrs. Peters, we are all witnesses, that

he intends very honourably by her.--It is some comfort, said he, and

wiped his eyes, that such good ladies say so--But I wish I could see

her. They would have had him sit down by them; but he would only sit behind

the door, in the corner of the room, so that one could not soon see him

as one came in; because the door opened against him, and hid him almost.

The ladies all sat down; and my master said, Desire Mrs. Jewkes to step

up, and tell Mrs. Andrews the ladies wait for her. So down I came. Miss Darnford rose, and met me at the door, and said, Well, Miss

Andrews, we longed for your company. I did not see my dear father; and

it seems his heart was too full to speak; and he got up, and sat down

three or four times successively, unable to come to me, or to say any

thing. The ladies looked that way: but I would not, supposing it was

Mr. Williams. And they made me sit down between Lady Darnford and

Lady Jones; and asked me, what we should play at? I said, At what your

ladyships please. I wondered to see them smile, and look upon me, and to

that corner of the room; but I was afraid of looking that way, for fear

of seeing Mr. Williams; though my face was that way too, and the table

before me. Said my master, Did you send your letter away to the posthouse, my good

girl, for your father? To be sure, sir, said I, I did not forget that:

I took the liberty to desire Mr. Thomas to carry it. What, said he, I

wonder, will the good old couple say to it? O sir, said I, your goodness

will be a cordial to their dear honest hearts! At that, my dear father,

not able to contain himself, nor yet to stir from the place, gushed out

into a flood of tears, which he, good soul! had been struggling with, it

seems; and cried out, O my dear child! I knew the voice, and, lifting up my eyes, and seeing my father, gave a

spring, overturned the table, without regard to the company, and threw

myself at his feet: O my father! my father! said I, can it be?--Is it

you? Yes, it is! it is!--O bless your happy daughter! I would have said,

and down I sunk. My master seemed concerned--I feared, said he, that the surprise would

be too much for her spirits; and all the ladies ran to me, and made me

drink a glass of water; and I found myself encircled in the arms of my

dearest father.--O tell me, said I, every thing! How long have you been

here? When did you come? How does my honoured mother? And half a dozen

questions more, before he could answer one. They permitted me to retire with my father; and then I poured forth

all my vows and thanksgivings to God for this additional blessing; and

confirmed all my master's goodness to his scarce-believing amazement.

And we kneeled together, blessing God, and one another, for several

ecstatic minutes and my master coming in soon after, my dear father

said, O sir, what a change is this! May, God reward and bless you, both

in this world and the next! May God bless us all! said he. But how does my sweet girl? I have been

in pain for you--I am sorry I did not apprise you beforehand. O sir, said I, it was you; and all you do must be good--But this was a

blessing so unexpected!---Well, said he, you have given pain to all the company. They will be glad

to see you, when you can: for you have spoiled all their diversion; and

yet painfully delighted them at the same time. Mr. Andrews, added he, do

you make this house your own; and the longer you stay, the more welcome

you'll be. After you have a little composed yourself, my dear girl, step

in to us again. I am glad to see you so well already. And so he left us. See you, my dear father, said I, what goodness there is in this once

naughty master! O pray for him! and pray for me, that I may deserve it! How long has this happy change been wrought, my dear child?--O, said I,

several happy days!--I have written down every thing; and you'll see,

from the depth of misery, what God has done for your happy daughter! Blessed be his name! said he. But do you say he will marry you? Can it

be, that such a brave gentleman will make a lady of the child of such a

poor man as I? O the divine goodness! How will your poor dear mother

be able to support these happy tidings? I will set out to-morrow, to

acquaint her with them: for I am but half happy, till the dear good

woman shares them with me!--To be sure, my dear child, we ought to go

into some far country to hide ourselves, that we may not disgrace you by

our poverty! O, my dear father, said I, now you are unkind for the first time! Your

poverty has been my glory, and my riches; and I have nothing to brag of,

but that I ever thought it an honour, rather than a disgrace; because

you were always so honest, that your child might well boast of such a

parentage! In this manner, my dear mother, did we pass the happy moments, till Miss

Darnford came to me, and said, How do you do, dear madam? I rejoice to

see you so well! Pray let us have your company. And yours too, good Mr.

Andrews, taking his hand. This was very obliging, I told her; and we went to the great parlour;

and my master took my father by the hand, and made him sit down by him,

and drink a glass of wine with him. Mean-time, I made my excuses to

the ladies, as well as I could, which they readily granted me. But Sir

Simon, after his comical manner, put his hands on my shoulders: Let me

see, let me see, said he, where your wings grow; for I never saw any

body fly like you.--Why, said he, you have broken Lady Jones's shins

with the table. Shew her else, madam. His pleasantry made them laugh. And I said, I was very sorry for my

extravagancy: and if it had not been my master's doings, I should

have said, it was a fault to permit me to be surprised, and put out of

myself, before such good company. They said, All was very excusable; and

they were glad I suffered no more by it. They were so kind as to excuse me at cards, and played by themselves;

and I went by my master's commands and sat on the other side, in the

happiest place I ever was blest with, between two of the dearest men in

the world to me, and each holding one of my hands:--my father, every now

and then, with tears, lifting up his eyes, and saying, Could I ever have

hoped this! I asked him, If he had been so kind as to bring the papers with him? He

said, He had; and looked at me, as who should say, Must I give them to

you now?--I said, Be pleased to let me have them. He pulled them from

his pocket; and I stood up, and, with my best duty, gave them into my

master's hands. He said, Thank you, Pamela. Your father shall take all

with him, so see what a sad fellow I have been, as well as the present

happier alteration. But I must have them all again, for the writer's

sake. The ladies and gentlemen would make me govern the tea-table, whatever I

could do; and Abraham attended me, to serve the company. My master and

my father sat together, and drank a glass or two of wine instead of tea,

and Sir Simon joked with my master, saying, I warrant you would not be

such a woman's man, as to drink tea, for ever so much, with the ladies.

But your time's coming, and I doubt not you'll be made as comfortable as

I. My master was very urgent with them to stay supper; and at last they

complied, on condition that I would grace the table, as they were

pleased to call it. I begged to be excused. My master said, Don't be

excused, Pamela, since the ladies desire it: And besides, said he, we

won't part with your father; and so you may as well stay with us. I was in hopes my father and I might sup by ourselves, or only with Mrs.

Jewkes. And Miss Darnford, who is a most obliging young lady, said, We

will not part with you, indeed we won't. When supper was brought in, Lady Darnford took me by the hand, and said

to my master, Sir, by your leave; and would have placed me at the upper

end of the table. Pray, pray, madam, said I, excuse me; I cannot do it,

indeed I cannot. Pamela, said my master, to the great delight of my good

father, as I could see by his looks, oblige Lady Darnford, since she

desires it. It is but a little before your time, you know. Dear, good sir, said I, pray don't command it! Let me sit by my father,

pray! Why, said Sir Simon, here's ado indeed! Sit down at the upper end,

as you should do; and your father shall sit by you, there. This put my

dear father upon difficulties. And my master said, Come, I'll place you

all: and so put Lady Darnford at the upper end, Lady Jones at her right

hand, and Mrs. Peters on the other; and he placed me between the two

young ladies; but very genteelly put Miss Darnford below her younger

sister; saying, Come, miss, I put you here, because you shall hedge in

this little cuckow; for I take notice, with pleasure, of your goodness

to her; and, besides, all you very young ladies should sit together.

This seemed to please both sisters; for had the youngest miss been put

there, it might have piqued her, as matters have been formerly, to be

placed below me; whereas Miss Darnford giving place to her youngest

sister, made it less odd she should to me; especially with that handsome

turn of the dear man, as if I was a cuckow, and to be hedged in. My master kindly said, Come, Mr. Andrews, you and I will sit together.

And so took his place at the bottom of the table, and set my father

on his right hand; and Sir Simon would sit on his left. For, said he,

parson, I think the petticoats should sit together; and so do you sit

down by that lady (his sister). A boiled turkey standing by me, my

master said, Cut up that turkey, Pamela, if it be not too strong work

for you, that Lady Darnford may not have too much trouble. So I carved

it in a trice, and helped the ladies. Miss Darnford said, I would give

something to be so dexterous a carver. O madam, said I, my late good

lady would always make me do these things, when she entertained her

female friends, as she used to do on particular days. Ay, said my master, I remember my poor mother would often say, if I, or

any body at table, happened to be a little out in carving, I'll send up

for my Pamela, to shew you how to carve. Said Lady Jones, Mrs. Andrews

has every accomplishment of her sex. She is quite wonderful for her

years. Miss Darnford said, And I can tell you, madam, that she plays

sweetly upon the spinnet, and sings as sweetly to it; for she has a fine

voice. Foolish! said Sir Simon; who, that hears her speak, knows not

that? And who that sees her fingers, believes not that they were made to

touch any key? O, parson! said he, 'tis well you're by, or I should have

had a blush from the ladies. I hope not, Sir Simon, said Lady Jones; for

a gentleman of your politeness would not say any thing that would make

ladies blush.--No, no, said he, for the world: but if I had, it would

have been, as the poet says, 'They blush, because they understand.' When the company went away, Lady Darnford, Lady Jones, and Mrs. Peters,

severally invited my master, and me with him, to their houses; and

begged he would permit me, at least, to come before we left those parts.

And they said, We hope, when the happy knot is tied, you will induce Mr.

B---- to reside more among us. We were always glad, said Lady Darnford,

when he was here; but now shall have double reason. O what grateful

things were these to the ears of my good father! When the company was gone, my master asked my father, if he smoked? He

answered, No. He made us both sit down by him, and said, I have been

telling this sweet girl, that in fourteen days, and two of them are

gone, she must fix on one to make me happy. And have left it to her

to choose either one of the first or last seven. My father held up his

hands, and eyes; God bless your honour! said he, is all I can say. Now,

Pamela, said my master, taking my hand, don't let a little wrong-timed

bashfulness take place, without any other reason, because I should be

glad to go to Bedfordshire as soon as I could; and I would not return

till I carry my servants there a mistress, who should assist me to

repair the mischiefs she has made in it. I could not look up for confusion. And my father said, My dear child, I

need not, I am sure, prompt your obedience in whatever will most oblige

so good a gentleman. What says my Pamela? said my master: She does not

use to be at a loss for expressions. Sir, said I, were I too sudden, it

would look as if I doubted whether you would hold in your mind, and was

not willing to give you time for reflection: but otherwise, to be sure I

ought to resign myself implicitly to your will. Said he, I want not time

for reflection: for I have often told you, and that long ago, I could

not live without you: and my pride of condition made me both tempt

and terrify you to other terms; but your virtue was proof against all

temptations, and was not to be awed by terrors: Wherefore, as I could

not conquer my passion for you, I corrected myself, and resolved, since

you would not be mine upon my terms, you should upon your own: and now I

desire you not on any other, I assure you: and I think the sooner it is

done, the better. What say you, Mr. Andrews? Sir, said he, there is so

much goodness on your side, and, blessed be God! so much prudence on my

daughter's, that I must be quite silent. But when it is done, I and my

poor wife shall have nothing to do, but to pray for you both, and to

look back, with wonder and joy, on the ways of Providence. This, said my master, is Friday night; and suppose, my girl, it be next

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday morning?--Say, my Pamela. Will you, sir, said I, excuse me till to-morrow for an answer? I will,

said he; and touched the bell, and called for Mrs. Jewkes. Where, said

he, does Mr. Andrews lie tonight? You'll take care of him. He's a very

good man; and will bring a blessing upon every house he sets his foot

in. My dear father wept for joy; and I could not refrain keeping him

company. And my master, saluting me, bid us good night, and retired. And

I waited upon my dear father, and was so full of prattle, of my master's

goodness, and my future prospects, that I believed afterwards I was

turned all into tongue: but he indulged me, and was transported with

joy; and went to bed, and dreamed of nothing but Jacob's ladder, and

angels ascending and descending, to bless him and his daughter. Saturday. I arose early in the morning; but found my father was up before me, and

was gone to walk in the garden. I went to him: and with what delight,

with what thankfulness, did we go over every scene of it, that had

before been so dreadful to me! The fish-pond, the back-door, and every

place. O what reason had we for thankfulness and gratitude! About seven o'clock my good master joined us, in his morning gown and

slippers; and looking a little heavy, I said, Sir, I fear you had not

good rest last night. That is your fault, Pamela, said he. After I went

from you, I must needs look into your papers, and could not leave them

till I had read them through; and so 'twas three o'clock before I went

to sleep. I wish, sir, said I, you had had better entertainment. The

worst part of it, said he, was what I had brought upon myself; and

you have not spared me. Sir, said I--He interrupting me, said, Well, I

forgive you. You had too much reason for it. But I find, plainly enough,

that if you had got away, you would soon have been Williams's wife: and

I can't see how it could well have been otherwise. Indeed, sir, said I,

I had no notion of it, or of being any body's. I believe so, said he;

but it must have come as a thing of course; and I see your father was

for it. Sir, said he, I little thought of the honour your goodness would

confer upon her; and I thought that would be a match above what we

could do for her, a great deal. But when I found she was not for it, I

resolved not to urge her; but leave all to her own prudence. I see, said he, all was sincere, honest, and open; and I speak of it, if

it had been done, as a thing that could hardly well be avoided; and I

am quite satisfied. But, said he, I must observe, as I have a hundred

times, with admiration, what a prodigious memory, and easy and happy

manner of narration, this excellent girl has! And though she is full

of her pretty tricks and artifices, to escape the snares I had laid

for her, yet all is innocent, lovely, and uniformly beautiful. You are

exceedingly happy in a daughter; and I hope I shall be so in a wife--Or,

said my father, may she not have that honour! I fear it not, said he;

and I hope I shall deserve it of her. But, Pamela, said my master, I am sorry to find in some parts of your

journal, that Mrs. Jewkes carried her orders a little too far: and I

the more take notice of it, because you have not complained to me of

her behaviour, as she might have expected for some parts of it; though a

good deal was occasioned by my strict orders.--But she had the insolence

to strike my girl, I find. Sir, said I, I was a little provoking, I

believe; but as we forgave one another, I was the less entitled to

complain of her. Well, said he, you are very good; but if you have any particular

resentment, I will indulge it so far, as that she shall hereafter have

nothing to do where you are. Sir, said I, you are so kind, that I ought

to forgive every body; and when I see that my happiness is brought about

by the very means that I thought then my greatest grievance, I ought to

bless those means, and forgive all that was disagreeable to me at the

same time, for the great good that hath issued from it.--That, said he,

and kissed me, is sweetly considered! and it shall be my part to make

you amends for what you have suffered, that you may still think lighter

of the one, and have cause to rejoice in the other. My dear father's heart was full; and he said, with his hands folded, and

lifted up, Pray, sir, let me go--let me go--to my dear wife, and tell

her all these blessed things, while my heart holds; for it is ready to

burst with joy! Good man! said my master--I hope to hear this honest

heart of yours speaking at your lips. I enjoin you, Pamela, to continue

your relation, as you have opportunity; and though your father be here,

write to your mother, that this wondrous story be perfect, and we, your

friends, may read and admire you more and more. Ay, pray, pray do, my

child, said my father; and this is the reason that I write on, my dear

mother, when I thought not to do it, because my father could tell you

all that passed while he was here. My master took notice of my psalm, and was pleased to commend it; and

said, That I had very charitably turned the last verses, which, in the

original, were full of heavy curses, to a wish that shewed I was not of

an implacable disposition though my then usage might have excused it, if

I had. But, said he, I think you shall sing it to me to-morrow. After we have breakfasted, added he, if you have no objection, Pamela,

we'll take an airing together; and it shall be in the coach, because

we'll have your father's company. He would have excused himself; but

my master would have it so: but he was much ashamed, because of the

meanness of his appearance. My master would make us both breakfast with him on chocolate; and he

said, I would have you, Pamela, begin to dress as you used to do; for

now, at least, you may call your two other bundles your own; and if you

want any thing against the approaching occasion, private as I design

it, I'll send to Lincoln for it, by a special messenger. I said, My good

lady's bounty, and his own, had set me much above my degree, and I had

very good things of all sorts; and I did not desire any other, because

I would not excite the censure of the ladies. That would be a different

thing, he was pleased to say, when he publicly owned his nuptials, after

we came to the other house. But, at present, if I was satisfied, he

would not make words with me. I hope, Mr. Andrews, said he, to my father, you'll not leave us till

you see the affair over, and then you'll be sure I mean honourably: and,

besides, Pamela will be induced to set the day sooner. O, sir, said he,

I bless God I have no reason to doubt your meaning honourably: and I

hope you'll excuse me, if I set out on Monday morning, very early, to my

dear wife, and make her as happy as I am. Why, Pamela, says my good master, may it not be performed on Tuesday?

And then your father, maybe, will stay.--I should have been glad to

have had it to-morrow, added he; but I have sent Monsieur Colbrand for

a license, that, you may have no scruple unanswered; and he can't very

well be back before to-morrow night, or Monday morning. This was most agreeable news. I said, Sir, I know my dear father will

want to be at home: and as you was so good to give me a fortnight from

last Thursday, I should be glad you would be pleased to indulge me still

to some day in the second seven. Well, said he, I will not be too urgent; but the sooner you fix,

the better. Mr. Andrews, we must leave something to these Jephthah's

daughters, in these cases, he was pleased to say: I suppose the little

bashful folly, which, in the happiest circumstances, may give a kind of

regret to quit the maiden state, and an awkwardness at the entrance into

a new one, is a reason with Pamela; and so she shall name her day. Sir,

said he, you are all goodness. I went up soon after, and new dressed myself, taking possession, in a

happy moment, I hope, of my two bundles, as my good master was pleased

to call them; (alluding to my former division of those good things

my lady and himself bestowed upon me;) and so put on fine linen, silk

shoes, and fine white cotton stockings, a fine quilted coat, a delicate

green Mantea silk gown and coat, a French necklace, and a laced cambric

handkerchief, and clean gloves; and, taking my fan in my hand, I, like

a little proud hussy, looked in the glass, and thought myself a

gentlewoman once more; but I forgot not to return due thanks, for being

able to put on this dress with so much comfort. Mrs. Jewkes would help to dress me, and complimented me highly, saying,

among other things, That now I looked like a lady indeed: and as, she

said, the little chapel was ready, and divine service would be read in

it to-morrow, she wished the happy knot might then be tied. Said she,

Have you not seen the chapel, madam, since it has been cleaned out? No,

said I; but are we to have service in it to-morrow, do you say?--I am

glad of that; for I have been a sad heathen lately, sore against my

will!--But who is to officiate?--Somebody, replied she, Mr. Peters will

send. You tell me very good news, said I, Mrs. Jewkes: I hope it will

never be a lumber-room again.--Ay, said she, I can tell you more good

news; for the two Misses Darnford, and Lady Jones, are to be here at the

opening of it; and will stay and dine with you. My master, said I, has

not told me that. You must alter your style, madam, said she: It must

not be master now, sure!--O, returned I, this is a language I shall

never forget: he shall always be my master; and I shall think myself

more and more his servant. My poor father did not know I went up to dress myself; and he said his

heart misgave him when he saw me first, for fear I was made a fool of,

and that here was some fine lady that was to be my master's true wife.

And he stood in admiration, and said, O, my dear child, how well will

you become your happy condition! Why you look like a lady already! I

hope, my dear father, said I, and boldly kissed him, I shall always be

your dutiful daughter, whatever my condition be. My master sent me word he was ready; and when he saw me, said, Dress as

you will, Pamela, you're a charming girl! and so handed me to the

coach, and would make my father and me sit both on the foreside, and sat

backwards, over against me; and bid the coachman drive to the meadow;

that is, where he once met Mr. Williams. The conversation was most agreeable to me, and to my dear father, as

we went; and he more and more exceeded in goodness and generosity; and,

while I was gone up to dress, he had presented my father with twenty

guineas; desiring him to buy himself and my mother such apparel as they

should think proper; and lay it all out: but I knew not this till after

we came home; my father having had no opportunity to tell me of it. He was pleased to inform me of the chapel being got in tolerable order;

and said, it looked very well; and against he came down next, it should

be all new white-washed, and painted and lined; and a new pulpit-cloth,

cushion, desk, etc. and that it should always be kept in order for the

future. He told me the two Misses Darnford, and Lady Jones, would dine

with him on Sunday: And, with their servants and mine, said he, we shall

make a tolerable congregation. And, added he, have I not well contrived

to shew you that the chapel is really a little house of God, and has

been consecrated, before we solemnize our nuptials in it?--O, sir,

replied I, your goodness to me is inexpressible! Mr. Peters, said he,

offered to come and officiate in it; but would not stay to dine with

me, because he has company at his own house: and so I intend that divine

service shall be performed in it by one to whom I shall make some yearly

allowance, as a sort of chaplain.--You look serious, Pamela, added he:

I know you think of your friend Williams. Indeed, sir, said I, if you

won't be angry, I did. Poor man! I am sorry I have been the cause of his

disobliging you. When we came to the meadow, where the gentry have their walk sometimes,

the coach stopt, and my master alighted, and led me to the brook-side,

and it is a very pretty summer walk. He asked my father, If he chose to

walk out, or go on in the coach to the farther end? He, poor man, chose

to go on in the coach, for fear, he said, any gentry should be walking

there; and he told me, he was most of the way upon his knees in the

coach, thanking God for his gracious mercies and goodness; and begging a

blessing upon my good master and me. I was quite astonished, when we came into the shady walk, to see Mr.

Williams there. See there, said my master, there's poor Williams,

taking his solitary walk again, with his book. And, it seems, it was so

contrived; for Mr. Peters had been, as I since find, desired to tell him

to be in that walk at such an hour in the morning. So, old acquaintance, said my master, again have I met you in this

place? What book are you now reading? He said, it was Boileau's Lutrin.

Said my master, You see I have brought with me my little fugitive,

that would have been: While you are perfecting yourself in French, I am

trying to learn English; and hope soon to be master of it. Mine, sir, said he, is a very beautiful piece of French: but your

English has no equal. You are very polite, Mr. Williams, said my master: And he that does not

think as you do, deserves no share in her. Why, Pamela, added he, very

generously, why so strange, where you have once been so familiar? I

do assure you both, that I mean not, by this interview, to insult Mr.

Williams, or confound you. Then I said, Mr. Williams, I am very glad

to see you well; and though the generous favour of my good master has

happily changed the scene, since you and I last saw one another, I am

nevertheless very glad of an opportunity to acknowledge, with gratitude,

your good intentions, not so much to serve me, as me, but as a

person--that then had great reason to believe herself in distress. And

I hope, sir, added I, to my master, your goodness will permit me to say

this. You, Pamela, said he, may make what acknowledgments you please to Mr.

Williams's good intentions; and I would have you speak as you think;

but I do not apprehend myself to be quite so much obliged to those

intentions. Sir, said Mr. Williams, I beg leave to say, I knew well, that, by

education, you was no libertine; nor had I reason to think you so by

inclination; and, when you came to reflect, I hoped you would not be

displeased with me. And this was no small motive to me, at first, to do

as I did. Ay, but Mr. Williams, said my master, could you think I should have had

reason to thank you, if, loving one person above all her sex, you had

robbed me of her, and married her yourself?--And then, said he, you are

to consider, that she was an old acquaintance of mine, and a quite

new one to you; that I had sent her down to my own house, for better

securing her; and that you, who had access to my house, could not effect

your purpose, without being guilty, in some sort, of a breach of the

laws of hospitality and friendship. As to my designs upon her, I own

they had not the best appearance; but still I was not answerable to Mr.

Williams for those; much less could you be excused to invade a property

so very dear to me, and to endeavour to gain an interest in her

affections, when you could not be certain that matters would not turn

out as they have actually done. I own, said he, that some parts of my conduct seem exceptionable, as

you state it. But, sir, I am but a young man. I meant no harm. I had no

interest, I am sure, to incur your displeasure; and when you think of

every thing, and the inimitable graces of person, and perfections of

mind, that adorn this excellent lady, (so he called me,) you will,

perhaps, find your generosity allow something as an extenuation of a

fault, which your anger would not permit as an excuse. I have done, said my master; nor did I meet you here to be angry with

you. Pamela knew not that she should see you: and now you are both

present, I would ask you, Mr. Williams, If, now you know my honourable

designs towards this good girl, you can really be almost, I will not say

quite, as well pleased with the friendship of my wife, as you could be

with the favour of Mrs. Andrews? Sir, said he, I will answer you truly. I think I could have preferred,

with her, any condition that could have befallen me, had I considered

only myself. But, sir, I was very far from having any encouragement to

expect her favour; and I had much more reason to believe, that, if she

could have hoped for your goodness, her heart would have been too much

pre-engaged to think of any body else. And give me leave further to

say, sir, that, though I tell you sincerely my thoughts, were I only to

consider myself; yet, when I consider her good, and her merit, I should

be highly ungenerous, were it put to my choice, if I could not wish her

in a condition so much superior to what I could raise her to, and so

very answerable to her merit. Pamela, said my master, you are obliged to Mr. Williams, and ought to

thank him: He has distinguished well. But, as for me, who had like to

have lost you by his means, I am glad the matter was not left to his

choice. Mr. Williams, added he, I give you Pamela's hand, because I know

it will be pleasing to her, in token of her friendship and esteem for

you; and I give you mine, that I will not be your enemy: but yet I must

say, that I think I owe this proper manner of your thinking more to your

disappointment, than to the generosity you talk of. Mr. Williams kissed my hand, as my master gave it him; and my master

said, Sir, you will go home and dine with me, and I'll shew you my

little chapel; and do you, Pamela, look upon yourself at liberty to

number Mr. Williams in the list of your friends. How generous, how noble, was this! Mr. Williams (and so had I) had tears

of pleasure in his eyes. I was silent: But Mr. Williams said, Sir, I

shall be taught, by your generosity, to think myself inexcusably wrong,

in every step I took, that could give you offence; and my future life

shall shew my respectful gratitude. We walked on till we came to the coach, where was my dear father.

Pamela, said my master, tell Mr. Williams who that good man is. O, Mr.

Williams! said I, it is my dear father! and my master was pleased to

say, One of the honestest men in England: Pamela owes every thing that

she is to be, as well as her being, to him; for, I think, she would not

have brought me to this, nor made so great resistance, but for the good

lessons, and religious education, she had imbibed from him. Mr. Williams said, taking father's hand, You see, good Mr. Andrews, with

inexpressible pleasure, no doubt, the fruits of your pious care; and now

are in a way, with your beloved daughter, to reap the happy effects of

it.--I am overcome, said my dear father, with his honour's goodness: But

I can only say, I bless God, and bless him. Mr. Williams and I being nearer the coach than my master, and he

offering to draw back, to give way to him, he kindly said, Pray, Mr.

Williams, oblige Pamela with your hand; and step in yourself. He bowed,

and took my hand; and my master made him step in, and sit next me, all

that ever he could do; and sat himself over against him, next my father,

who sat against me. And he said, Mr. Andrews, I told you yesterday that the divine you saw

was not Mr. Williams; I now tell you, this gentleman is: and though I

have been telling him, I think not myself obliged to his intentions; yet

I will own that Pamela and you are; and though I won't promise to love

him, I would have you. Sir, said Mr. Williams, you have a way of overcoming, that hardly all

my reading affords an instance of; and it is the more noble, as it is

on this side, as I presume, the happy ceremony, which, great as your

fortune is, will lay you under an obligation to so much virtue and

beauty, when the lady becomes yours; for you will then have a treasure

that princes might envy you. Said my generous master, (God bless him!) Mr. Williams, it is impossible

that you and I should long live at variance, when our sentiments agree

so well together, on subjects the most material. I was quite confounded; and my master, seeing it, took my hand, and

said, Look up, my good girl; and collect yourself.--Don't injure Mr.

Williams and me so much, as to think we are capping compliments, as we

used to do verses at school. I dare answer for us both, that we say not

a syllable we don't think. O sir, said I, how unequal am I to all this goodness! Every moment that

passes adds to the weight of the obligations you oppress me with. Think not too much of that, said he most generously. Mr. Williams's

compliments to you have great advantage of mine: For, though equally

sincere, I have a great deal to say, and to do, to compensate the

sufferings I have made you undergo; and, at last, must sit down

dissatisfied, because those will never be balanced by all I can do for

you. He saw my dear father quite unable to support these affecting instances

of his goodness;--and he let go my hand, and took his; and said, seeing

his tears, I wonder not, my dear Pamela's father, that your honest heart

springs thus to your eyes, to see all her trials at an end. I will not

pretend to say, that I had formerly either power or will to act thus:

But since I began to resolve on the change you see, I have reaped so

much pleasure in it, that my own interest will keep me steady: For, till

within these few days, I knew not what it was to be happy. Poor Mr. Williams, with tears of joy in his eyes, said, How happily,

sir, have you been touched by the divine grace, before you have been

hurried into the commission of sins, that the deepest penitence could

hardly have atoned for!--God has enabled you to stop short of the evil;

and you have nothing to do, but to rejoice in the good, which now

will be doubly so, because you can receive it without the least inward

reproach. You do well, said he, to remind me, that I owe all this to the grace

of God. I bless Him for it; and I thank this good man for his excellent

lessons to his daughter; I thank her for following them: and I hope,

from her good example, and your friendship, Mr. Williams, in time, to

be half as good as my tutoress: and that, said he, I believe you'll own,

will make me, without disparagement to any man, the best fox-hunter in

England.--Mr. Williams was going to speak: and he said, You put on so

grave a look, Mr. Williams, that, I believe, what I have said, with you

practical good folks, is liable to exception: but I see we are become

quite grave; and we must not be too serious neither. What a happy creature, my dear mother, is your Pamela!--O may my

thankful heart, and the good use I may be enabled to make of the

blessings before me, be a means to continue this delightful prospect to

a long date, for the sake of the dear good gentleman, who thus becomes

the happy instrument, in the hand of Providence, to bless all he smiles

upon! To be sure, I shall never enough acknowledge the value he is

pleased to express for my unworthiness, in that he has prevented my

wishes, and, unasked, sought the occasion of being reconciled to a good

man, who, for my sake, had incurred his displeasure; and whose name he

could not, a few days before, permit to pass through my lips! But see

the wonderful ways of Providence! The very things that I most dreaded

his seeing or knowing, the contents of my papers, have, as I hope,

satisfied all his scruples, and been a means to promote my happiness. Henceforth let not us poor short-sighted mortals pretend to rely on

our own wisdom; or vainly think, that we are absolutely to direct for

ourselves. I have abundant reason, I am sure, to say, that, when I was

most disappointed, I was nearer my happiness: for had I made my escape,

which was so often my chief point in view, and what I had placed my

heart upon, I had escaped the blessings now before me, and fallen,

perhaps headlong, into the miseries I would have avoided. And yet, after

all, it was necessary I should take the steps I did, to bring on this

wonderful turn: O the unsearchable wisdom of God!--And how much ought

I to adore the divine goodness, and humble myself, who am made a poor

instrument, as I hope, not only to magnify his graciousness to this fine

gentleman and myself, but also to dispense benefits to others! Which God

of his mercy grant! In the agreeable manner I have mentioned, did we pass the time in our

second happy tour; and I thought Mrs. Jewkes would have sunk into the

ground, when she saw Mr. Williams brought in the coach with us, and

treated so kindly. We dined together in a most pleasant, easy, and frank

manner; and I found I need not, from my master's generosity, to be under

any restraint, as to my conduct to this good clergyman: For he, so often

as he fancied I was reserved, moved me to be free with him, and to him;

and several times called upon me to help my father and Mr. Williams; and

seemed to take great delight in seeing me carve, as, indeed, he does in

every thing I do. After dinner we went and looked into the chapel, which is a very pretty

one, and very decent; and, when finished as he designs it, against his

next coming down, will be a very pretty place. My heart, my dear mother, when I first set my foot in it, throbbed a

good deal, with awful joy, at the thoughts of the solemnity, which, I

hope, will in a few days be performed here. And when I came up

towards the little pretty altar-piece, while they were looking at a

communion-picture, and saying it was prettily done, I gently stept into

a corner, out of sight, and poured out my soul to God on my knees, in

supplication and thankfulness, that, after having been so long absent

from divine service, the first time I entered into a house dedicated to

his honour, should be with such blessed prospects before me; and

begging of God to continue me humble, and to make me not unworthy of

his mercies; and that he would be pleased to bless the next author of my

happiness, my good master. I heard my master say, Where's Pamela? And so I broke off sooner than I

would, and went up to him. He said, Mr. Williams, I hope I have not so offended you by my conduct

past, (for really it is what I ought to be ashamed of,) as that you will

refuse to officiate, and to give us your instructions here to-morrow.

Mr. Peters was so kind, for the first time, to offer it; but I knew it

would be inconvenient for him; and, besides, I was willing to make this

request to you an introduction to our reconciliation. Sir, said he, most willingly, and most gratefully, will I obey you:

Though, if you expect a discourse, I am wholly unprepared for the

occasion. I would not have it, replied he, pointed to any particular

occasion; but if you have one upon the text--There is more joy in Heaven

over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just persons that

need no repentance; and if it makes me not such a sad fellow as to be

pointed at by mine and the ladies' servants we shall have here, I shall

be well content. 'Tis a general subject, added he, makes me speak of

that; but any one you please will do; for you cannot make a bad choice,

I am sure. Sir, said he, I have one upon that text; but I am ready to think, that

a thanksgiving one, which I made on a great mercy to myself, if I may be

permitted to make my own acknowledgments of your favour the subject of

a discourse, will be suitable to my grateful sentiments. It is on the

text;--Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; for mine eyes have

seen thy salvation. That text, said I, will be a very suitable one for me. Not so, Pamela,

said my master; because I don't let you depart in peace; but I hope you

will stay here with content. O but, sir, said I, I have seen God's salvation!--I am sure, added I,

if any body ever had reason, I have to say, with the blessed virgin, My

soul doth magnify the Lord; for he hath regarded the low estate of his

handmaiden--and exalted one of low degree. Said my good father, I am sure, if there were time for it, the book of

Ruth would afford a fine subject for the honour done my dear child. Why, good Mr. Andrews, said my master, should you say so?--I know that

story, and Mr. Williams will confirm what I say, that my good girl here

will confer at least as much honour as she will receive. Sir, said I, you are inexpressibly generous; but I shall never think so.

Why, my Pamela, said he, that's another thing: It will be best for me to

think you will; and it will be kind in you to think you shan't; and then

we shall always have an excellent rule to regulate our conduct by to one

another. Was not this finely, nobly, wisely said, my dear mother?--O what a

blessed thing it is to be matched to a man of sense and generosity!--How

edifying! How!--But what shall I say?--I am at loss for words. Mr. Williams said, when we came out of the little chapel, He would go

home, and look over his discourses, for one for the next day. My master

said, I have one thing to say before you go--When my jealousy, on

account of this good girl, put me upon such a vindictive conduct to you,

you know I took a bond for the money I had caused you to be troubled

for: I really am ashamed of the matter; because I never intended, when

I presented it to you, to have it again, you may be sure: But I knew not

what might happen between you and her, nor how far matters might have

gone between you; and so I was willing to have that in awe over you. And

I think it is no extraordinary present, therefore, to give you up your

bond again cancelled. And so he took it from his pocket, and gave it

him. I think, added he, all the charges attending it, and the trouble

you had, were defrayed by my attorney; I ordered that they should. They

were, sir, said he; and ten thousand thanks to you for this goodness,

and the kind manner in which you do it.--If you will go, Mr. Williams,

said he, shall my chariot carry you home? No, sir, answered he, I thank

you. My time will be so well employed all the way, in thinking of your

favours, that I choose to meditate upon them, as I walk home. My dear father was a little uneasy about his habit, for appearing at

chapel next day, because of Misses Darnford and the servants, for fear,

poor man, he should disgrace my master; and he told me, when he was

mentioning this, of my master's kind present of twenty guineas for

clothes, for you both; which made my heart truly joyful. But oh! to be

sure, I can never deserve the hundredth part of his goodness!--It is

almost a hard thing to be under the weight of such deep obligations on

one side, and such a sense of one's own unworthiness on the other.--O!

what a Godlike power is that of doing good!--I envy the rich and the

great for nothing else. My master coming to us just then, I said, Oh! sir, will your bounty

know no limits? My dear father has told me what you have given him.--A

trifle, Pamela, said he, a little earnest only of my kindness.--Say

no more of it. But did I not hear the good man expressing some sort of

concern for somewhat? Hide nothing from me, Pamela. Only, sir, said I,

he knew not how to absent himself from divine service, and yet is afraid

of disgracing you by appearing. Fie, Mr. Andrews! said he, I thought you knew that the outward

appearance was nothing. I wish I had as good a habit inwardly as you

have. But I'll tell you, Pamela, your father is not so much thinner than

I am, nor much shorter; he and I will walk up together to my wardrobe;

though it is not so well stored here, as in Bedfordshire. And so, said he, pleasantly, don't you pretend to come near us, till

I call for you; for you must not yet see how men dress and undress

themselves. O sir, said my father, I beg to be excused. I am sorry you

were told. So am not I, said my master: Pray come along with me. He carried him up stairs, and shewed him several suits, and would have

had him take his choice. My poor father was quite confounded: for my

master saw not any he thought too good, and my father none that he

thought bad enough. And my good master, at last, (he fixed his eye upon

a fine drab, which he thought looked the plainest,) would help him to

try the coat and waistcoat on himself; and, indeed, one would not

have thought it, because my master is taller, and rather plumper, as I

thought but, as I saw afterwards, they fitted him very well. And being

plain, and lined with the same colour, and made for travelling in a

coach, pleased my poor father much. He gave him the whole suit, and,

calling up Mrs. Jewkes, said, Let these clothes be well aired against

tomorrow morning. Mr. Andrews brought only with him his common apparel,

not thinking to stay Sunday with us. And pray see for some of my

stockings, and whether any of my shoes will fit him: And see also for

some of my linen; for we have put the good man quite out of his course,

by keeping him Sunday over. He was then pleased to give him the silver

buckles out of his own shoes. So, my good mother, you must expect to see

my dear father a great beau. Wig, said my master, he wants none; for

his own venerable white locks are better than all the perukes in

England.--But I am sure I have hats enough somewhere.--I'll take care of

every thing, sir, said Mrs. Jewkes.--And my poor father, when he came to

me, could not refrain tears. I know not how, said he, to comport myself

under these great favours. O my child, it is all owing to the divine

goodness, and your virtue. Sunday. This blessed day all the family seemed to take delight to equip

themselves for the celebration of the Sabbath in the little chapel;

and Lady Jones and Mr. Williams came in her chariot, and the two Misses

Darnford in their own. And we breakfasted together in a most agreeable

manner. My dear father appeared quite spruce and neat, and was quite

caressed by the three ladies. As we were at breakfast, my master told

Mr. Williams, We must let the Psalms alone, he doubted, for want of

a clerk: but Mr. Williams said, No, nothing should be wanting that he

could supply. My father said, If it might be permitted him, he would, as

well as he was able, perform that office; for it was always what he had

taken delight in. And as I knew he had learnt psalmody formerly, in his

youth, and had constantly practised it in private, at home, on Sunday

evenings, (as well as endeavoured to teach it in the little school he

so unsuccessfully set up, at the beginning of his misfortunes, before

he took to hard labour,) I was in no pain for his undertaking it in this

little congregation. They seemed much pleased with this; and so we went

to chapel, and made a pretty tolerable appearance; Mrs. Jewkes, and all

the servants, attending, but the cook: And I never saw divine service

performed with more solemnity, nor assisted at with greater devotion

and decency; my master, Lady Jones, and the two misses, setting a lovely

example. My good father performed his part with great applause, making the

responses, as if he had been a practised parish-clerk; and giving the

xxiiid psalm, [The Lord is only my support,

And he that doth me feed:

How can I then lack any thing

Whereof I stand in need?

In pastures green he feedeth me,

Where I do safely lie;

And after leads me to the streams,

Which run most pleasantly. And when I find myself near lost,

Then home he doth me take;

Conducting me in his right paths,

E'en for his own name's sake.

And tho' I were e'en at death's door,

Yet would I fear no ill:

For both thy rod and shepherd's crook

Afford me comfort still. Thou hast my table richly spread

In presence of my foe:

Thou hast my head with balm refresh'd,

My cup doth overflow.

And finally, while breath doth last,

Thy grace shall me defend:

And in the house of God will I

My life for ever spend.] which consisted of but three staves, we had it all; and he read the

line, and began the tune with a heart so entirely affected with the

duty, that he went through it distinctly, calmly, and fervently at the

same time; so that Lady Jones whispered me, That good man were fit for

all companies, and present to every laudable occasion: And Miss Darnford

said, God bless the dear good man!--You must think how I rejoiced in my

mind. I know, my dear mother, you can say most of the shortest psalms by

heart; so I need not transcribe it, especially as your chief treasure is

a bible; and a worthy treasure it is. I know nobody makes more or better

use of it. Mr. Williams gave us an excellent discourse on liberality and

generosity, and the blessings attending the right use of riches, from

the xith chapter of Proverbs, ver. 24, 25. There is that scattereth, and

yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but

it tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be made fat: And he that

watereth, shall be watered also himself. And he treated the subject

in so handsome a manner, that my master's delicacy, who, at first, was

afraid of some personal compliments, was not offended. Mr. Williams

judiciously keeping to generals; and it was an elegant and sensible

discourse, as my master said. My father was in the clerk's place, just under the desk; and Lady Jones,

by her footman, whispered him to favour us with another psalm, when the

sermon was ended. He thinking, as he said afterwards, that the former

was rather of the longest, chose the shortest in the book, which you

know is the cxviith. [O all ye nations of the world,

Praise ye the Lord always:

And all ye people every where

Set forth his noble praise. For great his kindness is to us;

His truth doth not decay:

Wherefore praise ye the Lord our God;

Praise ye the Lord alway.] My master thanked Mr. Williams for his excellent discourse, and so did

the ladies; as also did I most heartily: and he was pleased to take my

dear father by the hand, as did also Mr. Williams, and thanked him.

The ladies, likewise, made him their compliments; and the servants all

looked upon him with countenances of respect and pleasure. At dinner, do what I could, I was forced to take the upper end of the

table; and my master sat at the lower end, between Mr. Williams and my

father. And he said, Pamela, you are so dexterous, that I think you may

help the ladies yourself; and I will help my two good friends. I should

have told you, though, that I dressed myself in a flowered satin, that

was my lady's, and looked quite fresh and good, and which was given me,

at first, by my master; and the ladies, who had not seen me out of my

homespun before, made me abundance of fine compliments, as soon as they

saw me first. Talking of the Psalms just after dinner, my master was very naughty,

if I may so say: For he said to my father, Mr. Andrews, I think in the

afternoon, as we shall have only prayers, we may have one longer psalm;

and what think you of the cxxxviith? O, good sir! said I, pray, pray,

not a word more! Say what you will, Pamela, said he, you shall sing it

to us, according to your on version, before these good ladies go away.

My father smiled, but was half concerned for me; and said, Will it bear,

and please your honour?--O ay, said he, never fear it; so long as Mrs.

Jewkes is not in the hearing. This excited all the ladies' curiosity; and Lady Jones said, She would

be loath to desire to hear any thing that would give me concern; but

should be glad I would give leave for it. Indeed, madam, said I, I

must beg you won't insist upon it. I cannot bear it.--You shall see

it, indeed, ladies, said my master; and pray, Pamela, not always as

you please, neither.--Then, pray sir, said I, not in my hearing, I

hope.--Sure, Pamela, returned he, you would not write what is not fit

to be heard!--But, sir, said I, there are particular cases, times, and

occasions, that may make a thing passable at one time, that would not be

tolerable at another. O, said he, let me judge of that, as well as you,

Pamela. These ladies know a good part of your story; and, let me tell

you, what they know is more to your credit than mine; so that if I have

no averseness to reviving the occasion, you may very well bear it. Said

he, I will put you out of your pain, Pamela: here it is: and took it out

of his pocket. I stood up, and said, Indeed, sir, I can't bear it; I hope you'll allow

me to leave the room a minute, if you will read it. Indeed but I won't,

answered he. Lady Jones said, Pray, good sir, don't let us hear it, if

Mrs. Andrews be so unwilling. Well, Pamela, said my master, I will put

it to your choice, whether I shall read it now, or you will sing it by

and by. That's very hard, sir, said I. It must be one, I assure you,

said he. Why then, sir, replied I, you must do as you please; for I

cannot sing it. Well, then, said my master, I find I must read it; and yet, added he,

after all, I had as well let it alone, for it is no great reputation to

myself. O then, said Miss Darnford, pray let us hear it, to choose. Why then, proceeded he, the case was this: Pamela, I find, when she was

in the time of her confinement, (that is, added he, when she was

taken prisoner, in order to make me one; for that is the upshot of

the matter,) in the journal she kept, which was intended for nobody's

perusal but her parents, tells them, that she was importuned, one

Sunday, by Mrs. Jewkes, to sing a psalm; but her spirits not permitting,

she declined it: But after Mrs. Jewkes was gone down, she says, she

recollected, that the cxxxviith psalm was applicable to her own case;

Mrs. Jewkes having often, on other days, in vain, besought her to sing

a song: That thereupon she turned it more to her own supposed case; and

believing Mrs. Jewkes had a design against her honour, and looking upon

her as her gaoler, she thus gives her version of this psalm. But pray,

Mr. Williams, do you read one verse of the common translation, and I

will read one of Pamela's. Then Mr. Williams, pulling out his little

pocket Common-Prayer-Book, read the first two stanzas: I. When we did sit in Babylon,

The rivers round about;

Then in remembrance of Sion,

The tears for grief burst out. II. We hang'd our harps and instruments

The willow trees upon:

For in that place, men, for that use,

Had planted many a one. My master then read: I. When sad I sat in B----n-hall,

All guarded round about,

And thought of ev'ry absent friend,

The tears for grief burst out. II. My joys and hopes all overthrown,

My heart-strings almost broke,

Unfit my mind for melody,

Much more to bear a joke. The ladies said, It was very pretty; and Miss Darnford, That somebody

else had more need to be concerned than the versifier. I knew, said my master, I should get no credit by shewing this. But let

us read on, Mr. Williams. So Mr. Williams read: III. Then they, to whom we pris'ners were,

Said to us, tauntingly,

Now let us hear your Hebrew songs,

And pleasant melody. Now this, said my master, is very near; and read: III. Then she, to whom I prisoner was,

Said to me tauntingly,

Now cheer your heart, and sing a song,

And tune your mind to joy. Mighty sweet, said Mr. Williams. But let us see how the next verse is

turned. It is this: IV. Alas! said we; who can once frame

His heavy heart to sing

The praises of our living God,

Thus under a strange king? Why, said my master, it is turned with beautiful simplicity, thus: IV. Alas! said I, how can I frame

My heavy heart to sing,

Or tune my mind, while thus enthrall'd

By such a wicked thing? Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, O, dear madam! could

you wish that we should be deprived of this new instance of your genius

and accomplishments? O! said my dear father, you will make my good child proud. No, said my

master very generously, Pamela can't be proud. For no one is proud to

hear themselves praised, but those who are not used to it.--But proceed,

Mr. Williams. He read: V. But yet, if I Jerusalem

Out of my heart let slide;

Then let my fingers quite forget

The warbling harp to guide. Well, now, said my master, for Pamela's version: V. But yet, if from my innocence

I ev'n in thought should slide,

Then let my fingers quite forget

The sweet spinnet to guide. Mr. Williams read: VI. And let my tongue, within my mouth,

Be ty'd for ever fast,

If I rejoice, before I see

Thy full deliv'rance past. This, also, said my master, is very near: VI. And let my tongue, within my mouth,

Be lock'd for ever fast,

If I rejoice, before I see

My full deliv'rance past. Now, good sir, said I, oblige me; don't read any further: pray don't! O

pray, madam, said Mr. Williams, let me beg to have the rest read; for

I long to know whom you make the Sons of Edom, and how you turn the

Psalmist's execrations against the insulting Babylonians. Well, Mr. Williams, replied I, you should not have said so. O, said my

master, that is one of the best things of all. Poor Mrs. Jewkes stands

for Edom's Sons; and we must not lose this, because I think it one of

my Pamela's excellencies, that, though thus oppressed, she prays for

no harm upon the oppressor. Read, Mr. Williams, the next stanza. So he

read: VII. Therefore, O Lord! remember now

The cursed noise and cry,

That Edom's sons against us made,

When they ras'd our city. VIII. Remember, Lord, their cruel words,

When, with a mighty sound,

They cried, Down, yea down with it,

Unto the very ground! Well, said my master, here seems, in what I am going to read, a little

bit of a curse indeed, but I think it makes no ill figure in the

comparison. VII. And thou, Almighty! recompense

The evils I endure

From those who seek my sad disgrace,

So causeless, to procure. And now, said he, for Edom's Sons. Though a little severe in the

imputation. VIII. Remember, Lord, this Mrs. Jewkes,

When with a mighty sound,

She cries, Down with her chastity,

Down to the very ground! Sure, sir, said I, this might have been spared! But the ladies and Mr.

Williams said, No, by no means! And I see the poor wicked woman has no

favourers among them. Now, said my master, read the Psalmist's heavy curses: and Mr. Williams

read: IX. Ev'n so shalt thou, O Babylon!

At length to dust be brought:

And happy shall that man be call'd,

That our revenge hath wrought. X. Yea, blessed shall the man be call'd

That takes thy little ones,

And dasheth them in pieces small

Against the very stones. Thus he said, very kindly, has my Pamela turned these lines: IX. Ev'n so shalt thou, O wicked one!

At length to shame be brought;

And happy shall all those be call'd,

That my deliv'rance wrought. X. Yea, blessed shall the man be call'd

That shames thee of thy evil,

And saves me from thy vile attempts,

And thee, too, from the d---l. I fancy this blessed man, said my master smiling, was, at that time,

hoped to be you, Mr. Williams, if the truth was known. Sir, said he,

whoever it was intended for then, it can be nobody but your good self

now. I could hardly hold up my head for the praises the kind ladies were

pleased to heap upon me. I am sure, by this, they are very partial in

my favour; all because my master is so good to me, and loves to hear me

praised; for I see no such excellence in these lines, as they would make

me believe, besides what is borrowed from the Psalmist. We all, as before, and the cook-maid too, attended the prayers of the

church in the afternoon; and my dear father concluded with the following

stanzas of the cxlvth psalm; suitably magnifying the holy name of God

for all mercies; but did not observe, altogether, the method in which

they stand; which was the less necessary, he thought, as he gave out the

lines. The Lord is just in all his ways:

His works are holy all:

And he is near all those that do

In truth upon him call. He the desires of all them

That fear him, will fulfil;

And he will hear them when they cry,

And save them all he will. The eyes of all do wait on thee;

Thou dost them all relieve:

And thou to each sufficient food,

In season due, dost give. Thou openest thy plenteous hand,

And bounteously dost fill

All things whatever, that do live,

With gifts of thy good will. My thankful mouth shall gladly speak

The praises of the Lord:

All flesh, to praise his holy name,

For ever shall accord. We walked in the garden till tea was ready; and as he went by the

back-door, my master said to me, Of all the flowers in the garden, the

sun-flower is the fairest!--O, sir, said I, let that be now forgot!

Mr. Williams heard him say so, and seemed a little out of countenance:

Whereupon my master said, I mean not to make you serious, Mr. Williams;

but we see how strangely things are brought about. I see other scenes

hereabouts, that, in my Pamela's dangers, give me more cause of concern,

than any thing you ever did should give you. Sir, said he, you are very

generous. My master and Mr. Williams afterwards walked together for a quarter of

an hour; and talked about general things, and some scholastic subjects;

and joined us, very well pleased with one another's conversation. Lady Jones said, putting herself on one side of me, as my master was on

the other, But pray, sir, when is the happy time to be? We want it over,

that we may have you with us as long afterwards as you can. Said my

master, I would have it to-morrow, or next day at farthest, if Pamela

will: for I have sent for a license, and the messenger will be here

to-night, or early in the morning, I hope. But, added he, pray, Pamela,

do not take beyond Thursday. She was pleased to say, Sure it will not be

delayed by you, madam, more than needs!--Well, said he, now you are on

my side, I will leave you with her to settle it: and, I hope, she will

not let little bashful niceties be important with her; and so he joined

the two misses. Lady Jones told me, I was to blame, she would take upon her to say, if I

delayed it a moment; because she understood Lady Davers was very uneasy

at the prospect, that it would be so; and if any thing should happen, it

would be a sad thing!--Madam, said I, when he was pleased to mention

it to me first, he said it should be in fourteen days; and afterwards,

asked me if I would have it in the first or the second seven? I

answered--for how could I do otherwise?--In the second. He desired it

might not be the last day of the second seven. Now, madam, said I, as

he was then pleased to speak his mind, no doubt, I would not, for any

thing, seem too forward. Well, but, said she, as he now urges you in so genteel and gentlemanly a

manner for a shorter day, I think, if I was in your place, I would agree

to it. She saw me hesitate and blush, and said, Well, you know best; but

I say only what I would do. I said, I would consider of it; and if I saw

he was very earnest, to be sure I should think I ought to oblige him. Misses Darnford were begging to be at the wedding, and to have a ball:

and they said, Pray, Mrs. Andrews, second our requests, and we shall be

greatly obliged to you. Indeed, ladies, said I, I cannot promise that,

if I might.--Why so? said they.--Because, answered I--I know not what!

But I think one may, with pleasure, celebrate an anniversary of one's

nuptials; but the day itself--Indeed, ladies, I think it is too solemn a

business, for the parties of our sex to be very gay upon: it is a quite

serious and awful affair: and I am sure, in your own cases, you would be

of my mind. Why, then, said Miss Darnford, the more need one has to be

as light-hearted and merry as one can. I told you, said my master, what sort of an answer you'd have from

Pamela. The younger miss said, She never heard of such grave folks in

her life, on such an occasion: Why, sir, said she, I hope you'll sing

psalms all day, and miss will fast and pray! Such sackcloth and

ashes doings, for a wedding, did I never hear of!--She spoke a little

spitefully, I thought; and I returned no answer. I shall have enough to

do, I reckon, in a while, if I am to answer every one that will envy me! We went in to tea; and all that the ladies could prevail upon my master

for, was a dancing match before he left this county: But Miss Darnford

said, It should then be at their house; for, truly, if she might not be

at the wedding, she would be affronted, and come no more hither, till we

had been there. When they were gone, my master would have had my father stay till the

affair was over; but he begged he might set out as soon as it was light

in the morning; for, he said, my mother would be doubly uneasy at his

stay; and he burned with impatience to let her know all the happy things

that had befallen her daughter. When my master found him so desirous to

go, he called Mr. Thomas, and ordered him to get a particular bay horse

ready betimes in the morning, for my father, and a portmanteau, to put

his things in; and to attend him a day's journey: And if, said he, Mr.

Andrews chooses it, see him safe to his own home: And, added he, since

that horse will serve you, Mr. Andrews, to ride backwards and forwards,

to see us, when we go into Bedfordshire, I make you a present of it,

with the accoutrements. And, seeing my father going to speak, he added,

I won't be said nay. O how good was this! He also said a great many kind things at supper-time, and gave him all

the papers he had of mine; but desired, when he and my mother had read

them, that he would return them to him again. And then he said, So

affectionate a father and daughter may, perhaps, be glad to be alone

together; therefore remember me to your good wife, and tell her, it

will not be long, I hope, before I see you together; on a visit to your

daughter, at my other house: and so I wish you good night, and a good

journey, if you go before I see you. And then he shook hands, and left

my dear father almost unable to speak, through the sense of his favours

and goodness. You may believe, my dear mother, how loath I was to part with my

good father; and he was also unwilling to part with me; but he was so

impatient to see you, and tell you the blessed tidings, with which his

heart overflowed, that I could hardly wish to detain him. Mrs. Jewkes brought two bottles of cherry-brandy, and two of

cinnamon-water, and some cake; and they were put up in the portmanteau,

with my father's newly presented clothes; for he said, He would not,

for any thing, be seen in them in his neighbourhood, till I was actually

known, by every body, to be married; nor would he lay out any part of

the twenty guineas till then neither, for fear of reflections; and

then he would consult me as to what he would buy. Well, said I, as you

please, my dear father; and I hope now we shall often have the pleasure

of hearing from one another, without needing any art or contrivances. He said, He would go to bed betimes, that he might be up as soon as it

was light; and so he took leave of me, and said, He would not love me,

if I got up in the morning to see him go; which would but make us both

loath to part, and grieve us both all day. Mr. Thomas brought him a pair of boots, and told him, He would call him

up at peep of day, and put up every thing over night; and so I received

his blessing, and his prayers, and his kind promises of procuring the

same from you, my dear mother; and went up to my closet with a heavy

heart, and yet a half-pleased one, if I may so say; for that, as he must

go, he was going to the best of wives, and with the best of tidings.

But I begged he would not work so hard as he had done; for I was sure

my master would not have given him twenty guineas for clothes, if he

had not designed to do something else for him; and that he should be the

less concerned at receiving benefits, from my good master, because he,

who had so many persons to employ in his large possessions, could make

him serviceable, to a degree equivalent, without hurting any body else. He promised me fair; and, pray, dear mother, see he performs. I hope my

master will not see this: for I will not send it you, at present, till

I can send you the best of news; and the rather, as my dear father can

supply the greatest part of what I have written, since the papers he

carries you, by his own observation. So good night, my dear mother: And

God send my father a safe journey, and a happy meeting to you both! Monday. Mr. Colbrand being returned, my master came up to me to my closet, and

brought me the license. O how my heart fluttered at the sight of it!

Now, Pamela, said he, tell me, if you can oblige me with the day. Your

word is all that's wanting. I made bold to kiss his dear hand; and,

though unable to look up, said--I know not what to say, sir, to all your

goodness: I would not, for any consideration, that you should believe me

capable of receiving negligently an honour, that all the duty of a long

life, were it to be lent me, will not be sufficient to enable me to be

grateful for. I ought to resign myself, in every thing I may or

can, implicitly to your will. But--But what? said he, with a kind

impatience.--Why, sir, said I, when from last Thursday you mentioned

four days, I had reason to think that term your choice; and my heart

is so wholly yours, that I am afraid of nothing, but that I may be

forwarder than you wish. Impossible, my dear creature! said he, and

folded me in his arms: Impossible! If this be all, it shall be set about

this moment, and this happy day shall make you mine!--I'll send away

instantly, said the dear gentleman; and was going. I said, No, pray, sir, pray, sir, hear me!--Indeed it cannot be

to-day!--Cannot! said he.--No, indeed, sir! said I--And was ready to

sink to see his generous impatience. Why flattered you then my fond

heart, replied he, with the hope that it might?--Sir, said I, I will

tell you what I had thought, if you'll vouchsafe me your attention. Do

then, said he. I have, sir, proceeded I, a great desire, that, whenever the day is,

it may be on a Thursday: On a Thursday my dear father and mother were

married; and, though poor, they are a very happy pair.--On a Thursday

your poor Pamela was born. On a Thursday my dear good lady took me from

my parents into her protection. On a Thursday, sir, you caused me to be

carried away to this place, to which I now, by God's goodness, and your

favour, owe so amazingly all my present prospects; and on a Thursday it

was, you named to me, that fourteen days from that you would confirm my

happiness. Now, sir, if you please to indulge my superstitious folly,

you will greatly oblige me. I was sorry, sir, for this reason, when you

bid me not defer till the last day of the fourteen, that Thursday in

next week was that last day. This, Pamela, is a little superstitious, I must needs say; and I think

you should begin now to make another day in the week a happy one; as for

example; on a Monday, may you say, my father and mother concluded to be

married on the Thursday following. On a Monday, so many years ago,

my mother was preparing all her matters to be brought to bed on the

Thursday following. On a Monday, several weeks ago, it was that you had

but two days more to stay, till you was carried away on Thursday. On a

Monday, I myself, said he, well remember, it was that I wrote you the

letter, that prevailed on you so kindly to return to me; and on the same

day you did return to my house here; which I hope, my girl, will be as

propitious an era as any you have named: And now, lastly, will you say,

which will crown the work; And, on a Monday I was married.--Come, come,

my dear, added he, Thursday has reigned long enough o'conscience; let us

now set Monday in its place, or at least on an equality with it, since

you see it has a very good title, and as we now stand in the week before

us, claims priority: And then, I hope, we shall make Tuesday, Wednesday,

Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, as happy days as Monday and Thursday; and

so, by God's blessing, move round, as the days move, in a delightful

circle, till we are at a loss what day to prefer to the rest. O how charmingly was this said!--And how sweetly kind! Indeed, sir, said I, you rally my folly very agreeably; but don't let a

little matter stand in the way, when you are so generously obliging in a

greater: Indeed I like Thursday best, if I may choose. Well, then, said he, if you can say you have a better reason than this,

I will oblige you; else I'll send away for the parson this moment. And so, I protest, he was going!--Dear sirs, how I trembled! Stay, stay,

sir, said I: we have a great deal to say first; I have a deal of silly

prate to trouble you with!--Well, say then, in a minute, replied he, the

most material: for all we have to say may be talked of while the

parson is coming.--O, but indeed, and indeed, said I, it cannot be

to-day!--Well, then, shall it be to-morrow? said he.--Why, sir, if it

must not be on a Thursday, you have given so many pleasant distinctions

for a Monday, that let it then be next Monday.--What! a week still? said

he. Sir, answered I, if you please; for that will be, as you enjoined,

within the second seven days. Why, girl, said he, 'twill be seven months

till next Monday. Let it, said he, if not to-morrow, be on Wednesday; I

protest I will stay no longer. Then, sir, returned I, please to defer it, however, for one day more,

and it will be my beloved Thursday! If I consent to defer it till then,

may I hope, my Pamela, said he, that next Thursday shall certainly be

the happy day?--Yes, sir, said I and I am sure I looked very foolishly! And yet, my dear father and mother, why should I, with such a fine

gentleman? And whom I so dearly love? And so much to my honour too?

But there is something greatly awful upon my mind, in the solemn

circumstance, and a change of condition never to be recalled, though all

the prospects are so desirable. And I can but wonder at the thoughtless

precipitancy with which most young folks run into this important change

of life! So now, my dear parents, have I been brought to fix so near a day as

next Thursday; and this is Monday. O dear, it makes one out of breath

almost to think of it! This, though, was a great cut off; a whole week

out of ten days. I hope I am not too forward! I'm sure, if it obliges my

dear master, I am justified; for he deserves of me all things in my poor

power. After this, he rode out on horseback, attended by Abraham, and did not

return till night. How by degrees things steal upon one! I thought even

this small absence tedious; and the more, as we expected him home to

dinner.--I wish I may not be too fond, and make him indifferent: But

yet, my dear father and mother, you were always fond of one another, and

never indifferent, let the world run as it would. When he returned, he said, He had had a pleasant ride, and was led out

to a greater distance than he intended. At supper he told me, that he

had a great mind Mr. Williams should marry us; because, he said, it

would shew a thorough reconciliation on his part. But, said he, most

generously, I am apprehensive, from what passed between you, that the

poor man will take it hardly, and as a sort of insult, which I am not

capable of. What says my girl?--Do you think he would? I hope not, sir,

said I: As to what he may think, I can't answer; but as to any reason

for his thoughts, I can: For indeed, sir, said I, you have been already

so generous, that he cannot, I think, mistake your goodness. He then spoke with some resentment of Lady Davers's behaviour, and I

asked, if any thing new had occurred? Yes, said he; I have had a

letter delivered me from her impertinent husband, professedly at her

instigation, that amounted to little less than a piece of insolent

bravery, on supposing I was about to marry you. I was so provoked,

added he, that after I had read it, I tore it in a hundred pieces, and

scattered them in the air, and bid the man who brought it let his master

know what I had done with his letter; and so would not permit him to

speak to me, as he would fain have done,--I think the fellow talked

somewhat of his lady coming hither; but she shall not set her foot

within my doors; and I suppose this treatment will hinder her. I was much concerned at this: And he said, Had I a hundred sisters,

Pamela, their opposition should have no weight with me: and I did not

intend you should know it; but you can't but expect a little difficulty

from the pride of my sister, who have suffered so much from that of

her brother; and we are too nearly allied in mind, as well as blood, I

find.--But this is not her business: And if she would have made it so,

she should have done it with more decency. Little occasion had she to

boast of her birth, that knows not what belongs to good manners. I said, I am very sorry, sir, to be the unhappy occasion of a

misunderstanding between so good a brother and so worthy a sister. Don't

say so, Pamela, because this is an unavoidable consequence of the

happy prospect before us. Only bear it well yourself, because she is my

sister; and leave it to me to make her sensible of her own rashness. If, sir, said I, the most lowly behaviour, and humble deportment, and in

every thing shewing a dutiful regard to good Lady Davers, will have any

weight with her ladyship, assure yourself of all in my power to mollify

her. No, Pamela, returned he; don't imagine, when you are my wife, I

will suffer you to do any thing unworthy of that character. I know the

duty of a husband, and will protect your gentleness to the utmost, as

much as if you were a princess by descent. You are inexpressibly good, sir, said I; but I am far from taking a

gentle disposition to shew a meanness of spirit: And this is a trial I

ought to expect; and well I may bear it, that have so many benefits to

set against it, which all spring from the same cause. Well, said he, all the matter shall be this: We will talk of our

marriage as a thing to be done next week. I find I have spies upon

me wherever I go, and whatever I do: But now, I am on so laudable

a pursuit, that I value them not, nor those who employ them. I have

already ordered my servants to have no conference with any body for

ten or twelve days to come. And Mrs. Jewkes tells me every one names

Thursday come se'nnight for our nuptials. So I will get Mr. Peters, who

wants to see my little chapel, to assist Mr. Williams, under the notion

of breakfasting with me next Thursday morning, since you won't have it

sooner; and there will nobody else be wanting; and I will beg of Mr.

Peters to keep it private, even from his own family, for a few days. Has

my girl any objection? O, sir, answered I, you are so generous in all your ways, I can have

no objections!--But I hope Lady Davers and you will not proceed to

irreconcilable lengths; and when her ladyship comes to see you, and to

tarry with you, two or three weeks, as she used to do, I will keep close

up, so as not to disgust her with the sight of me. Well, Pamela, said he, we will talk of that afterwards. You must do then

as I shall think fit: And I shall be able to judge what both you and I

ought to do. But what still aggravates the matter is, that she should

instigate the titled ape her husband to write to me, after she had so

little succeeded herself. I wish I had kept his letter, that I might

have shewn you how a man, that generally acts like a fool, can take upon

him to write like a lord. But I suppose it is of my sister's penning,

and he, poor man! is the humble copier. Tuesday. Mr. Thomas is returned from you, my dear father, with the good news

of your health, and your proceeding in your journey to my dear mother,

where I hope to hear soon you are arrived. My master has just now been

making me play upon the spinnet, and sing to it; and was pleased to

commend me for both. But he does so for every thing I do, so partial

does his goodness make him to me. One o'clock. We are just returned from an airing in the chariot; and I have

been delighted with his conversation upon English authors, poets

particularly. He entertained me also with a description of some of

the curiosities he had seen in Italy and France, when he made what the

polite world call the grand tour. He said he wanted to be at his other

seat, for he knew not well how to employ himself here, having not

proposed to stay half the time: And when I get there, Pamela, said he,

you will hardly be troubled with so much of my company, after we have

settled; for I have a great many things to adjust: And I must go to

London; for I have accounts that have run on longer than ordinary with

my banker there. And I don't know, added he, but the ensuing winter I

may give you a little taste of the diversions of the town for a month

or so. I said, His will and pleasure should determine mine; and I never

would, as near as I could, have a desire after those, or any other

entertainments that were not in his own choice. He was pleased to say, I make no doubt but that I shall be very happy

in you; and hope you will be so in me: For, said he, I have no very

enormous vices to gratify; though I pretend not to the greatest purity,

neither, my girl. Sir, said I, if you can account to your own mind,

I shall always be easy in whatever you do. But our greatest happiness

here, sir, continued I, is of very short duration; and this life, at the

longest, is a poor transitory one; and I hope we shall be so happy as

to be enabled to look forward, with comfort, to another, where our

pleasures will be everlasting. You say well, Pamela; and I shall, by degrees, be more habituated to

this way of thinking, as I more and more converse with you; but, at

present, you must not be over serious with me all at once: though

I charge you never forbear to mingle your sweet divinity in our

conversation, whenever it can be brought in a propos, and with such

a cheerfulness of temper, as shall not throw a gloomy cloud over our

innocent enjoyments. I was abashed at this, and silent, fearing I had offended: But he said,

If you attend rightly to what I said, I need not tell you again, Pamela,

not to be discouraged from suggesting to me, on every proper occasion,

the pious impulses of your own amiable mind. Sir, said I, you will be

always indulgent, I make no doubt, to my imperfections, so long as I

mean well. My master made me dine with him, and would eat nothing but what I helped

him to; and my heart is, every hour, more and more enlarged with his

goodness and condescension. But still, what ails me, I wonder! A strange

sort of weight hangs upon my mind, as Thursday draws on, which makes

me often sigh involuntarily, and damps, at times, the pleasures of my

delightful prospects!--I hope this is not ominous; but only the foolish

weakness of an over-thoughtful mind, on an occasion the most solemn and

important of one's life, next to the last scene, which shuts up all. I could be very serious: But I will commit all my ways to that blessed

Providence, which hitherto has so wonderfully conducted me through real

evils to this hopeful situation. I only fear, and surely I have great reason, that I shall be too

unworthy to hold the affections of so dear a gentleman!--God teach me

humility, and to know my own demerit! And this will be, next to his

grace, my surest guard, in the state of life to which, though most

unworthy, I am going to be exalted. And don't cease your prayers for

me, my dear parents; for, perhaps, this new condition may be subject

to still worse hazards than those I have escaped; as would be the case,

were conceitedness, vanity, and pride, to take hold of my frail heart;

and if I was, for my sins, to be left to my own conduct, a frail bark

in a tempestuous ocean, without ballast, or other pilot than my own

inconsiderate will. But my master said, on another occasion, That those

who doubted most, always erred least; and I hope I shall always doubt my

own strength, my own worthiness. I will not trouble you with twenty sweet agreeable things that passed in

conversation with my excellent benefactor; nor with the civilities of

M. Colbrand, Mrs. Jewkes, and all the servants, who seem to be highly

pleased with me, and with my conduct to them: And as my master,

hitherto, finds no fault that I go too low, nor they that I carry it too

high, I hope I shall continue to have every body's good-will: But yet

will I not seek to gain any one's by little meannesses or debasements!

but aim at an uniform and regular conduct, willing to conceal

involuntary errors, as I would have my own forgiven; and not too

industrious to discover real ones, or to hide such, if any such should

appear, as might encourage bad hearts, or unclean hands, in material

cases, where my master should receive damage, or where the morals of the

transgressors should appear wilfully and habitually corrupt. In short, I

will endeavour, as much as I can, that good servants shall find in me a

kind encourager; indifferent ones be made better, by inspiring them with

a laudable emulation; and bad ones, if not too bad in nature, and quite

irreclaimable, reformed by kindness, expostulation, and even proper

menaces, if necessary; but most by a good example: All this if God

pleases. Wednesday. Now, my dear parents, I have but this one day between me and the most

solemn rite that can be performed. My heart cannot yet shake off this

heavy weight. Sure I am ungrateful to the divine goodness, and the

favour of the best of benefactors!--Yet I hope I am not!--For, at times,

my mind is all exultation, with the prospect of what good to-morrow's

happy solemnity may possibly, by the leave of my generous master, put it

in my power to do. O how shall I find words to express, as I ought, my

thankfulness, for all the mercies before me! Wednesday evening. My dear master is all love and tenderness. He sees my weakness, and

generously pities and comforts me! I begged to be excused supper; but

he brought me down himself from my closet, and placed me by him, bidding

Abraham not wait. I could not eat, and yet I tried, for fear he should

be angry. He kindly forbore to hint any thing of the dreadful, yet

delightful to-morrow! and put, now and then, a little bit on my plate,

and guided it to my mouth. I was concerned to receive his goodness with

so ill a grace. Well, said he, if you won't eat with me, drink at least

with me: I drank two glasses by his over-persuasions, and said, I am

really ashamed of myself. Why, indeed, said he, my dear girl, I am not

a very dreadful enemy, I hope! I cannot bear any thing that is the least

concerning to you. Oh, sir! said I, all is owing to the sense I have of

my own unworthiness!--To be sure, it cannot be any thing else. He rung for the things to be taken away; and then reached a chair,

and sat down by me, and put his kind arms about me, and said the most

generous and affecting things that ever dropt from the honey-flowing

mouth of love. All I have not time to repeat: some I will. And oh!

indulge your foolish daughter, who troubles you with her weak nonsense;

because what she has to say, is so affecting to her; and because, if she

went to bed, instead of scribbling, she could not sleep. This sweet confusion and thoughtfulness in my beloved Pamela, said

the kind man, on the near approach of our happy union, when I hope all

doubts are cleared up, and nothing of dishonour is apprehended, shew me

most abundantly, what a wretch I was to attempt such purity with a worse

intention--No wonder, that one so virtuous should find herself deserted

of life itself on a violence so dreadful to her honour, and seek a

refuge in the shadow of death.--But now, my dearest Pamela, that you

have seen a purity on my side, as nearly imitating your own, as our sex

can shew to yours; and since I have, all the day long, suppressed even

the least intimation of the coming days, that I might not alarm your

tender mind; why all this concern, why all this affecting, yet sweet

confusion? You have a generous friend, my dear girl, in me; a protector

now, not a violator of your innocence: Why then, once more I ask, this

strange perplexity, this sweet confusion? O sir, said I, and hid my face on his arm; expect not reason from a

foolish creature: You should have still indulged me in my closet: I am

ready to beat myself for this ungrateful return to your goodness. But

I know not what!--I am, to be sure, a silly creature! O had you but

suffered me to stay by myself above, I should have made myself ashamed

of so culpable a behaviour!--But goodness added to goodness every

moment, and the sense of my own unworthiness, quite overcome my spirits. Now, said the generous man, will I, though reluctantly, make a proposal

to my sweet girl.--If I have been too pressing for the day: If another

day will still be more obliging: If you have fears you will not then

have; you shall say but the word, and I'll submit. Yes, my Pamela; for

though I have, these three days past, thought every tedious hour a day,

till Thursday comes, if you earnestly desire it, I will postpone it.

Say, my dear girl, freely say; but accept not my proposal, without great

reason, which yet I will not ask for. Sir, said I, I can expect nothing but superlative goodness, I have been

so long used to it from you. This is a most generous instance of it; but

I fear--yes, I fear it will be too much the same thing, some days hence,

when the happy, yet, fool that I am! dreaded time, shall be equally

near! Kind, lovely charmer! said he, now do I see you are to be trusted with

power, from the generous use you make of it!--Not one offensive word or

look, from me, shall wound your nicest thoughts; but pray try to subdue

this over-scrupulousness, and unseasonable timidity. I persuade myself

you will if you can. Indeed, sir, I will, said I; for I am quite ashamed of myself, with all

these lovely views before me!--The honours you do me, the kindness you

shew me!--I cannot forgive myself! For, oh! if I know the least of

this idle foolish heart of mine, it has not a misgiving thought of

your goodness; and I should abhor it, if it were capable of the least

affectation.--But, dear good sir, leave me a little to myself, and I

will take myself to a severer task than your goodness will let you do

and I will present my heart before you, a worthier offering to you, than

at present its wayward follies will let it seem to be.--But one thing

is, one has no kind friend of one's own sex, to communicate one's

foolish thoughts to, and to be strengthened by their comfortings! But I

am left to myself; and, oh! what a weak silly thing I am! He kindly withdrew, to give me time to recollect myself; and in about

half an hour returned: and then, that he might not begin at once upon

the subject, and say, at the same time, something agreeable to me, said,

Your father and mother have had a great deal of talk by this time about

you, Pamela. O, sir, returned I, your goodness has made them quite

happy! But I can't help being concerned about Lady Davers. He said, I am vexed I did not hear the footman out; because it runs in

my head he talked somewhat about her coming hither. She will meet with

but an indifferent reception from me, unless she comes resolved to

behave better than she writes. Pray, sir, said I, be pleased to bear with my good lady, for two

reasons. What are they? said he. Why, first, sir, answered I, because

she is your sister; and, to be sure, may very well think, what all the

world will, that you have much undervalued yourself in making me happy.

And next, because, if her ladyship finds you out of temper with her, it

will still aggravate her more against me; and every time that any warm

words you may have between you, come into her mind, she will disdain me

more. Don't concern yourself about it, said he; for we have more proud ladies

than she in our other neighbourhood, who, perhaps, have still less

reason to be punctilious about their descent, and yet will form

themselves upon her example, and say, Why, his own sister will not

forgive him, nor visit him! And so, if I can subdue her spirit, which is

more than her husband ever could, or indeed any body else, it is a great

point gained: And, if she gives me reason, I'll try for it, I assure

you. Well, but, my dear girl, continued he, since the subject is so

important, may I not say one word about to-morrow?--Sir, said I, I hope

I shall be less a fool: I have talked as harshly to my heart, as Lady

Davers can do; and the naughty thing suggests to me a better, and more

grateful behaviour. He smiled, and, kissing me, said, I took notice, Pamela, of what you

observed, that you have none of your own sex with you; I think it is a

little hard upon you; and I should have liked you should have had Miss

Darnford; but then her sister must have been asked; and I might as well

make a public wedding: which, you know, would have required clothes and

other preparations. Besides, added he, a foolish proposal was once made

me of that second sister, who has two or three thousand pounds more than

the other, left her by a godmother, and she can't help being a little

piqued; though, said he, it was a proposal they could not expect should

succeed; for there is nothing in her person nor mind; and her fortune,

as that must have been the only inducement, would not do by any means;

and so I discouraged it at once. I am thinking, sir, said I, of another mortifying thing too; that were

you to marry a lady of birth and fortune answerable to your own, all

the eve to the day would be taken up in reading, signing, and sealing of

settlements, and portion, and such like: But now the poor Pamela brings

you nothing at all: And the very clothes she wears, so very low is she,

are entirely the effects of your bounty, and that of your good mother:

This makes me a little sad: For, alas! sir, I am so much oppressed

by your favours, and the sense of the obligations I lie under, that

I cannot look up with the confidence that I otherwise should, on this

awful occasion. There is, my dear Pamela, said he, where the power is wanting, as much

generosity in the will as in the action. To all that know your story,

and your merit, it will appear that I cannot recompense you for what

I have made you suffer. You have had too many hard struggles and

exercises; and have nobly overcome: and who shall grudge you the reward

of the hard-bought victory?--This affair is so much the act of my

own will, that I glory in being capable of distinguishing so much

excellence; and my fortune is the more pleasurable to me, as it gives

me hope, that I may make you some part of satisfaction for what you have

undergone. This, sir, said I, is all goodness, unmerited on my side; and makes my

obligations the greater. I can only wish for more worthiness.--But how

poor is it to offer nothing but words for such generous deeds!--And to

say, I wish!--For what is a wish, but the acknowledged want of power to

oblige, and a demonstration of one's poverty in every thing but will? And that, my dear girl, said he, is every thing: 'Tis all I want: 'Tis

all that Heaven itself requires of us: But no more of these little

doubts, though they are the natural impulses of a generous and grateful

heart: I want not to be employed in settlements. Those are for such to

regard, who make convenience and fortune the prime considerations. I

have possessions ample enough for us both; and you deserve to share

them with me; and you shall do it, with as little reserve, as if you

had brought me what the world reckons an equivalent: for, as to my own

opinion, you bring me what is infinitely more valuable, an experienced

truth, a well-tried virtue, and a wit and behaviour more than equal to

the station you will be placed in: To say nothing of this sweet person,

that itself might captivate a monarch; and of the meekness of temper,

and sweetness of disposition, which make you superior to all the women I

ever saw. Thus kind and soothing, and honourably affectionate, was the dear

gentleman, to the unworthy, doubting, yet assured Pamela; and thus

patiently did he indulge, and generously pardon, my impertinent

weakness. He offered to go himself to Lady Jones, in the morning, and

reveal the matter to her, and desire her secrecy and presence; but I

said, That would disoblige the young Ladies Darnford. No, sir, said I, I

will cast myself upon your generous kindness; for why should I fear the

kind protector of my weakness, and the guide and director of my future

steps? You cannot, said he, forgive Mrs. Jewkes; for she must know it; and

suffer her to be with you? Yes, sir, said I, I can. She is very civil

to me now: and her former wickedness I will forgive, for the sake of the

happy fruits that have attended it; and because you mention her. Well, said he, I will call her in, if you please.--As you please, sir,

said I. And he rung for her; and when she came in, he said, Mrs. Jewkes,

I am going to entrust you with a secret. Sir, answered she, I will be

sure to keep it as such. Why, said he, we intend to-morrow, privately as

possible, for our wedding-day; and Mr. Peters and Mr. Williams are to be

here, as to breakfast with me, and to shew Mr. Peters my little chapel.

As soon as the ceremony is over, we will take a little airing in the

chariot, as we have done at other times; and so it will not be wondered

that we are dressed. And the two parsons have promised secrecy, and will

go home. I believe you can't well avoid letting one of the maids into

the secret; but that I'll leave to you. Sir, replied she, we all concluded it would be in a few days! and I

doubt it won't be long a secret. No, said he, I don't desire it should;

but you know we are not provided for a public wedding, and I shall

declare it when we go to Bedfordshire, which won't be long. But the men,

who lie in the outhouses, need not know it; for, by some means or other,

my sister Davers knows all that passes. Do you know, sir, said she, that her ladyship intends to be down here

with you in a few days? Her servant told me so, who brought you the

letter you were angry at. I hope, said he, we shall be set out for t'other house first; and shall

be pleased she loses her labour. Sir, continued she, her ladyship,

proposes to be here time enough to hinder your nuptials, which she

takes, as we did, will be the latter end of next week. Well, said he,

let her come: but yet I desire not to see her. Mrs. Jewkes said to me, Give me leave, madam, to wish you all manner

of happiness: But I am afraid I have too well obeyed his honour, to be

forgiven by you. Indeed, Mrs. Jewkes, returned I, you will be more

your own enemy than I will be. I will look all forward: and shall not

presume, so much as by a whisper, to set my good master against any one

he pleases to approve of: And as to his old servants, I shall always

value them, and never offer to dictate to his choice, or influence it by

my own caprices. Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, you find you have no cause to apprehend

any thing. My Pamela is very placable; and as we have both been sinners

together, we must both be included in one act of grace. Such an example of condescension, as I have before me, Mrs. Jewkes, said

I, may make you very easy; for I must be highly unworthy, if I did not

forego all my little resentments, if I had any, for the sake of so much

goodness to myself. You are very kind, madam, said she; and you may depend upon it, I will

atone for all my faults, by my future duty and respect to you, as well

as to my master. That's well said on both sides, said he: but, Mrs. Jewkes, to assure

you, that my good girl here has no malice, she chooses you to attend

her in the morning at the ceremony, and you must keep up her spirits.--I

shall, replied she, be very proud of the honour: But I cannot, madam,

but wonder to see you so very low-spirited, as you have been these two

or three days past, with so much happiness before you. Why, Mrs. Jewkes, answered I, there can be but one reason given;

and that is, that I am a sad fool!--But, indeed, I am not ungrateful

neither; nor would I put on a foolish affectation: But my heart, at

times, sinks within me; I know not why, except at my own unworthiness,

and because the honour done me is too high for me to support myself

under, as I should do. It is an honour, Mrs. Jewkes, added I, I was not

born to; and no wonder, then, I behave so awkwardly. She made me a

fine compliment upon it, and withdrew, repeating her promises of care,

secrecy, etc. He parted from me with very great tenderness; and I came up and set to

writing, to amuse my thoughts, and wrote thus far. And Mrs. Jewkes being

come up, and it being past twelve, I will go to bed; but not one wink, I

fear, shall I get this night.--I could beat myself for anger. Sure

there is nothing ominous in this strange folly!--But I suppose all young

maidens are the same, so near so great a change of condition, though

they carry it off more discreetly than I. Thursday, six o'clock in the morning. I might as well have not gone to bed last night, for what sleep I had.

Mrs. Jewkes often was talking to me, and said several things that would

have been well enough from any body else of our sex; but the poor woman

has so little purity of heart, that it is all say from her, and goes no

farther than the ear. I fancy my master has not slept much neither; for I heard him up, and

walking about his chamber, ever since break of day. To be sure, good

gentleman! he must have some concern, as well as I; for here he is going

to marry a poor foolish unworthy girl, brought up on the charity, as one

may say, (at least bounty,) of his worthy family! And this foolish girl

must be, to all intents and purposes, after twelve o'clock this day, as

much his wife, as if he were to marry a duchess!--And here he must stand

the shocks of common reflection! The great Mr. B---- has done finely! he

has married his poor servant wench! will some say. The ridicule and rude

jests of his equals, and companions too, he must stand: And the disdain

of his relations, and indignation of Lady Davers, his lofty sister! Dear

good gentleman! he will have enough to do, to be sure! O how shall I

merit all these things at his hand! I can only do the best I can; and

pray to God to reward him; and resolve to love him with a pure heart,

and serve him with a sincere obedience. I hope the dear gentleman will

continue to love me for this; for, alas! I have nothing else to offer!

But, as I can hardly expect so great a blessing, if I can be secure

from his contempt, I shall not be unfortunate; and must bear his

indifference, if his rich friends should inspire him with it, and

proceed with doing my duty with cheerfulness. Half an hour past eight o'clock. My good dear master, my kind friend, my generous benefactor, my worthy

protector, and, oh! all the good words in one, my affectionate husband,

that is soon to be--(be curbed in, my proud heart, know thy self, and

be conscious of thy unworthiness!)--has just left me, with the kindest,

tenderest expressions, and gentlest behaviour, that ever blest a happy

maiden. He approached me with a sort of reined-in rapture. My Pamela!

said he, May I just ask after your employment? Don't let me chide my

dear girl this day, however. The two parsons will be here to breakfast

with us at nine; and yet you are not a bit dressed! Why this absence of

mind, and sweet irresolution? Why, indeed, sir, said I, I will set about a reformation this instant.

He saw the common-prayer book lying in the window. I hope, said he, my

lovely maiden has been conning the lesson she is by-and-by to repeat.

Have you not, Pamela? and clasped his arms about me, and kissed me.

Indeed, sir, said I, I have been reading over the solemn service.--And

what thinks my fairest (for so he called me) of it?--O sir, 'tis very

awful, and makes one shudder, to reflect upon it!--No wonder, said

he, it should affect my sweet Pamela: I have been looking into it this

morning, and I can't say but I think it a solemn, but very suitable

service. But this I tell my dear love, continued he, and again clasped

me to him, there is not a tittle in it that I cannot joyfully subscribe

to: And that, my dear Pamela, should make you easy, and join cheerfully

in it with me. I kissed his dear hand: O my generous, kind protector,

said I, how gracious is it to confirm thus the doubting mind of your

poor servant! which apprehends nothing so much as her own unworthiness

of the honour and blessing that await her!--He was pleased to say, I

know well, my dearest creature, that, according to the liberties we

people of fortune generally give ourselves, I have promised a great

deal, when I say so. But I would not have said it, if, deliberately,

I could not with all my heart. So banish from your mind all doubt and

uneasiness; let a generous confidence in me take place; and let me see

it does, by your cheerfulness in this day's solemn business; and then I

will love you for ever! May God Almighty, sir, said I, reward all your goodness to me!--That is

all I can say. But, oh! how kind it is in you, to supply the want of the

presence and comfortings of a dear mother, of a loving sister, or of the

kind companions of my own sex, which most maidens have, to soothe their

anxieties on the so near approach of so awful a solemnity!--You, sir,

are all these tender relations in one to me! Your condescensions and

kindness shall, if possible, embolden me to look up to you without

that sweet terror, that must confound poor bashful maidens, on such an

occasion, when they are surrendered up to a more doubtful happiness, and

to half-strange men, whose good faith, and good usage of them, must be

less experienced, and is all involved in the dark bosom of futurity, and

only to be proved by the event. This, my dear Pamela, said he, is most kindly said! It shews me that you

enter gratefully into my intention. For I would, by my conduct, supply

all these dear relations to you; and I voluntarily promise, from my

heart, to you, what I think I could not, with such assured resolutions

of performance, to the highest-born lady in the kingdom. For let me tell

my sweet girl, that, after having been long tossed by the boisterous

winds of a more culpable passion, I have now conquered it, and am not

so much the victim of your beauty, all charming as you are, as of your

virtue; and therefore may more boldly promise for myself, having so

stable a foundation for my affection; which, should this outward beauty

fail, will increase with your virtue, and shine forth the brighter,

as that is more illustriously displayed by the augmented opportunities

which the condition you are now entering into will afford you.--O the

dear charming man! how nobly, how encouragingly kind, was all this! I could not suitably express myself: And he said, I see my girl is at a

loss for words! I doubt not your kind acceptance of my declarations. And

when I have acted too much the part of a libertine formerly, for you

to look back without some anxiety, I ought not, being now happily

convicted, to say less.--But why loses my girl her time? I will now only

add, that I hope for many happy years to make good, by my conduct, what

so willingly flows from my lips. He kissed me again, and said, But, whatever you do, Pamela, be cheerful;

for else, may be, of the small company we shall have, some one, not

knowing how to account for your too nice modesty, will think there is

some other person in the world, whose addresses would be still more

agreeable to you. This he said with an air of sweetness and pleasantry; but it alarmed

me exceedingly, and made me resolve to appear as calm and cheerful as

possible. For this was, indeed, a most affecting expression, and enough

to make me, if any thing can, behave as I ought, and to force my idle

fears to give way to hopes so much better grounded.--And I began almost,

on this occasion, to wish Mr. Williams were not to marry me, lest I

should behave like a fool; and so be liable to an imputation, which I

should be most unworthy, if I deserved. So I set about dressing me instantly; and he sent Mrs. Jewkes to assist

me. But I am never long a dressing, when I set about it; and my master

has now given me a hint, that will, for half an hour more, at least,

keep my spirits in a brisk circulation. Yet it concerns me a little too,

lest he should have any the least shadow of a doubt, that I am not, mind

and person, entirely his. And so being now ready, and not called to breakfast, I sat down and

wrote thus far. I might have mentioned, that I dressed myself in a rich white satin

night-gown, that had been my good lady's, and my best head-clothes, etc.

I have got such a knack of writing, that when I am by myself, I cannot

sit without a pen in my hand.--But I am now called to breakfast. I

suppose the gentlemen are come.--Now, courage, Pamela! Remember thou

art upon thy good behaviour!--Fie upon it! my heart begins to flutter

again!--Foolish heart! be still! Never, sure, was any maiden's perverse

heart under so little command as mine!--It gave itself away, at first,

without my leave; it has been, for weeks, pressing me with its wishes;

and yet now, when it should be happy itself, and make me so, it is

throb, throb, throb, like a little fool! and filling me with such

unseasonable misgivings, as abate the rising comforts of all my better

prospects. Thursday, near three o'clock. I thought I should have found no time nor heart to write again this day.

But here are three gentlemen come, unexpectedly, to dine with my master;

and so I shall not appear. He has done all he could, civilly, to send

them away; but they will stay, though I believe he had rather they would

not. And so I have nothing to do but to write till I go to dinner myself

with Mrs. Jewkes: for my master was not prepared for this company; and

it will be a little latish to-day. So I will begin with my happy story

where I left off. When I came down to breakfast, Mr. Peters and Mr. Williams were both

there. And as soon as my master heard me coming down, he met me at the

door, and led me in with great tenderness. He had kindly spoken to them,

as he told me afterwards, to mention no more of the matter to me, than

needs must. I paid my respects to them, I believe a little awkwardly,

and was almost out of breath: but said, I had come down a little too

fast. When Abraham came in to wait, my master said, (that the servants should

not mistrust,) 'Tis well, gentlemen, you came as you did; for my good

girl and I were going to take an airing till dinner-time. I hope you'll

stay and dine with me. Sir, said Mr. Peters, we won't hinder your

airing. I only came, having a little time upon my hands, to see your

chapel; but must be at home at dinner; and Mr. Williams will dine with

me. Well then, said my master, we will pursue our intention, and ride

out for an hour or two, as soon as I have shewn Mr. Peters my little

chapel. Will you, Pamela, after breakfast, walk with us to it? If,

if, said I, and had like to have stammered, foolish that I was! if you

please, sir. I could look none of them in the face. Abraham looking at

me; Why, child, said my master, you have hardly recovered your fright

yet: how came your foot to slip? 'Tis well you did not hurt yourself.

Said Mr. Peters, improving the hint, You ha'n't sprained your ancle,

madam, I hope. No, sir, said I, I believe not; but 'tis a little painful

to me. And so it was; for I meant my foolishness! Abraham, said my

master, bid Robin put the horses to the coach, instead of the chariot;

and if these gentlemen will go, we can set them down. No matter, sir,

said Mr. Peters: I had as lieve walk, if Mr. Williams chooses it. Well

then, said my master, let it be the chariot, as I told him. I could eat nothing, though I attempted it; and my hand shook so, I

spilled some of my chocolate, and so put it down again; and they were

all very good, and looked another way. My master said, when Abraham was

out, I have a quite plain ring here, Mr. Peters: And I hope the ceremony

will dignify the ring; and that I shall give my girl reason to think

it, for that cause, the most valuable one that can be presented her. Mr.

Peters said, He was sure I should value it more than the richest diamond

in the world. I had bid Mrs. Jewkes not to dress herself, lest she should give cause

of mistrust; and she took my advice. When breakfast was over, my master said, before Abraham, Well,

gentlemen, we will step into the chapel; and you must give me your

advice, as to the alterations I design. I am in the more haste, because

the survey you are going to take of it, for the alterations, will take

up a little time; and we shall have but a small space between that and

dinner, for the little tour I design to make.--Pamela, you'll give us

your opinion, won't you? Yes, sir, said I; I'll come after you. So they went out, and I sat down in the chair again, and fanned myself:

I am sick at heart, said I, I think, Mrs. Jewkes. Said she, Shall

I fetch you a little cordial?--No, said I, I am a sad fool! I want

spirits, that's all. She took her smelling-bottle, and would have given

it me: but I said, Keep it in your hand; may be I shall want it: but I

hope not. She gave me very good words, and begged me to go: And I got up; but my

knees beat so against one another, I was forced to sit down again. But,

at last, I held by her arm, and passing by Abraham, I said, This ugly

slip, coming down stairs, has made me limp, though; so I must hold by

you, Mrs. Jewkes. Do you know what alterations there are to be in the

chapel, that we must all give our opinions of them? Nan, she told me, was let into the secret; and she had ordered her to

stay at the chapel door, to see that nobody came in. My dear master came

to me, at entering the chapel, and took my hand, and led me up to the

altar. Remember, my dear girl, whispered he, and be cheerful. I am,

I will, sir, said I; but I hardly knew what I said; and so you may

believe, when I said to Mrs. Jewkes, Don't leave me; pray, Mrs. Jewkes,

don't leave me; as if I had all confidence in her, and none where it was

most due. So she kept close to me. God forgive me! but I never was so

absent in my life, as at first; even till Mr. Williams had gone on in

the service, so far as to the awful words about requiring us, as we

should answer at the dreadful day of judgment; and then the solemn

words, and my master's whispering, Mind this, my dear, made me start.

Said he, still whispering, Know you any impediment? I blushed, and said

softly, None, sir, but my great unworthiness. Then followed the sweet words, Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded

wife? etc. and I began to take heart a little, when my dearest master

answered, audibly, to this question, I will. But I could only make a

courtesy, when they asked me; though, I am sure, my heart was readier

than my speech, and answered to every article of obey, serve, love, and

honour. Mr. Peters gave me away; and I said, after Mr. Williams, as well as

I could, as my dear master did with a much better grace, the words of

betrothment; and the ceremony of the ring passing next, I received the

dear favour at his worthy hands with a most grateful heart; and he was

pleased to say afterwards in the chariot, that when he had done saying,

With this ring I thee wed, etc. I made a courtesy, and said, Thank you,

sir. May be I did; for I am sure it was a most grateful part of the

service, and my heart was overwhelmed with his goodness, and the tender

grace wherewith he performed it. I was very glad, that the next part

was the prayer, and kneeling; for I trembled so, I could hardly stand,

betwixt fear and joy. The joining of our hands afterwards, the declaration of our being

married to the few witnesses present; for, reckoning Nan, whose

curiosity would not let her stay at the door, there were but Mr. Peters,

Mrs. Jewkes, and she; the blessing, the psalm, and the subsequent

prayers, and the concluding exhortation; were so many beautiful,

welcome, and lovely parts of this divine office, that my heart began to

be delighted with them; and my spirits to be a little freer. And thus, my dearest, dear parents, is your happy, happy, thrice happy

Pamela, at last married; and to whom?--Why, to her beloved, gracious

master! the lord of her wishes! And thus the dear, once naughty assailer

of her innocence, by a blessed turn of Providence, is become the kind,

the generous protector and rewarder of it. God be evermore blessed

and praised! and make me not wholly unworthy of such a transcendent

honour!--And bless and reward the dear, dear, good gentleman, who has

thus exalted his unworthy servant, and given her a place, which the

greatest ladies would think themselves happy in! My master saluted me most ardently, and said, God give you, my dear

love, as much joy on this occasion, as I have! And he presented me to

Mr. Peters, who saluted me; and said, You may excuse me, dear madam,

for I gave you away, and you are my daughter. And Mr. Williams modestly

withdrawing a little way; Mr. Williams, said my master, pray accept my

thanks, and wish your sister joy. So he saluted me too; and said, Most

heartily, madam, I do. And I will say, that to see so much innocence and

virtue so eminently rewarded, is one of the greatest pleasures I have

ever known. This my master took very kindly. Mrs. Jewkes would have kissed my hand at the chapel-door; but I put my

arms about her neck, for I had got a new recruit of spirits just then;

and kissed her, and said, Thank you, Mrs. Jewkes, for accompanying me. I

have behaved sadly. No, madam, said she, pretty well, pretty well! Mr. Peters walked out with me; and Mr. Williams and my master came out

after us, talking together. Mr. Peters, when we came into the parlour, said, I once more, madam,

must wish you joy on this happy occasion. I wish every day may add to

your comforts; and may you very long rejoice in one another! for you are

the loveliest couple I ever saw joined. I told him, I was highly obliged

to his kind opinion, and good wishes; and hoped my future conduct would

not make me unworthy of them. My good benefactor came in with Mr. Williams: So, my dear life, said he,

how do you do? A little more composed, I hope. Well, you see this is not

so dreadful an affair as you apprehended. Sir, said Mr. Peters, very kindly, it is a very solemn circumstance; and

I love to see it so reverently and awfully entered upon. It is a most

excellent sign; for the most thoughtful beginnings make the most prudent

proceedings. Mrs. Jewkes, of her own accord, came in with a large silver tumbler,

filled with sack, and a toast, and nutmeg, and sugar; and my master

said, That's well thought of, Mrs. Jewkes; for we have made but sorry

breakfasting. And he would make me, take some of the toast; as they all

did, and drank pretty heartily: and I drank a little, and it cheered my

heart, I thought, for an hour after. My master took a fine diamond ring from his finger, and presented it to

Mr. Peters, who received it very kindly. And to Mr. Williams he said,

My old acquaintance, I have reserved for you, against a variety of

solicitations, the living I always designed for you; and I beg you'll

prepare to take possession of it; and as the doing it may be attended

with some expense, pray accept of this towards it; and so he gave him

(as he told me afterwards it was) a bank note of 50l. So did this generous good gentleman bless us all, and me in particular;

for whose sake he was as bounteous as if he had married one of the

noblest fortunes. So he took his leave of the gentlemen, recommending secrecy again, for

a few days, and they left him; and none of the servants suspected any

thing, as Mrs. Jewkes believes. And then I threw myself at his feet,

blessed God, and blessed him for his goodness; and he overwhelmed me

with kindness, calling me his sweet bride, and twenty lovely epithets,

that swell my grateful heart beyond the power of utterance. He afterwards led me to the chariot; and we took a delightful tour round

the neighbouring villages; and he did all he could to dissipate those

still perverse anxieties that dwell upon my mind, and, do what I can,

spread too thoughtful an air, as he tells me, over my countenance. We came home again by half an hour after one; and he was pleasing

himself with thinking, not to be an hour out of my company this blessed

day, that (as he was so good as to say) he might inspire me with a

familiarity that should improve my confidence in him, when he was told,

that a footman of Sir Charles Hargrave had been here, to let him know,

that his master, and two other gentlemen, were on the road to take a

dinner with him, in their way to Nottingham. He was heartily vexed at this, and said to me, He should have been

glad of their companies at any other time; but that it was a barbarous

intrusion now; and he wished they had been told he would not be at home

at dinner: And besides, said he, they are horrid drinkers; and I shan't

be able to get them away to-night, perhaps; for they have nothing to do,

but to travel round the country, and beat up their friends' quarters all

the way; and it is all one to them, whether they stay a night or a month

at a place. But, added he, I'll find some way, if I can, to turn them

off, after dinner.--Confound them, said he, in a violent pet, that they

should come this day, of all the days in the year! We had hardly alighted, and got in, before they came: Three mad rakes

they seemed to be, as I looked through the window, setting up a hunting

note, as soon as they came to the gate, that made the court-yard echo

again; and smacking their whips in concert. So I went up to my chamber, and saw (what made my heart throb) Mrs.

Jewkes's officious pains to put the room in order for a guest, that,

however welcome, as now my duty teaches me to say, is yet dreadful to me

to think of. So I took refuge in my closet, and had recourse to pen and

ink, for my amusement, and to divert my anxiety of mind.--If one's

heart is so sad, and one's apprehension so great, where one so extremely

loves, and is so extremely obliged; what must be the case of those poor

maidens, who are forced, for sordid views, by their tyrannical parents

or guardians, to marry the man they almost hate, and, perhaps, to the

loss of the man they most love! O that is a sad thing, indeed!--And what

have not such cruel parents to answer for! And what do not such poor

innocent victims suffer!--But, blessed be God, this lot is far from

being mine! My good master (for I cannot yet have the presumption to call him by a

more tender name) came up to me, and said, Well, I just come to ask my

dear bride (O the charming, charming word!) how she does? I see you are

writing, my dear, said he. These confounded rakes are half mad, I think,

and will make me so! However, said he, I have ordered my chariot to be

got ready, as if I was under an engagement five miles off, and will set

them out of the house, if possible; and then ride round, and come back,

as soon as I can get rid of them. I find, said he, Lady Davers is full

of our affairs. She has taken great freedoms with me before Sir Charles;

and they have all been at me, without mercy; and I was forced to be very

serious with them, or else they would have come up to have seen you,

since I would not call you down.--He kissed me, and said, I shall

quarrel with them, if I can't get them away; for I have lost two or

three precious hours with my soul's delight: And so he went down. Mrs. Jewkes asked me to walk down to dinner in the little parlour. I

went down, and she was so complaisant as to offer to wait upon me at

table; and would not be persuaded, without difficulty, to sit down

with me. But I insisted she should: For, said I, it would be very

extraordinary, if one should so soon go into such distance, Mrs.

Jewkes.--Whatever my new station may require of me, added I, I hope I

shall always conduct myself in such a manner, that pride and insolence

shall bear no part in my character. You are very good, madam, said she; but I will always know my duty to

my master's lady.--Why then, replied I, if I must take state upon me so

early, Mrs. Jewkes, let me exact from you what you call your duty; and

sit down with me when I desire you. This prevailed upon her; and I made shift to get down a bit of

apple-pye, and a little custard; but that was all. My good master came in again, and said, Well, thank my stars! these

rakes are going now; but I must set out with them, and I choose my

chariot; for if I took horse, I should have difficulty to part with

them; for they are like a snowball, and intend to gather company as they

go, to make a merry tour of it for some days together. We both got up, when he came in: Fie, Pamela! said he; why this ceremony

now?--Sit still, Mrs. Jewkes.--Nay, sir, said she, I was loath to sit

down; but my lady would have me.--She is very right, Mrs. Jewkes, said

my master, and tapped me on the cheek; for we are but yet half married;

and so she is not above half your lady yet!--Don't look so down, don't

be so silent, my dearest, said he; why, you hardly spoke twenty words

to me all the time we were out together. Something I will allow for your

bashful sweetness; but not too much.--Mrs. Jewkes, have you no pleasant

tales to tell my Pamela, to make her smile, till I return?--Yes, sir,

said she, I could tell twenty pleasant stories; but my lady is too nice

to hear them; and yet, I hope, I should not be shocking neither. Ah!

poor woman! thought I; thy chastest stories will make a modest person

blush, if I know thee! and I desire to hear none of them. My master said, Tell her one of the shortest you have, in my hearing.

Why, sir, said she, I knew a bashful young lady, as madam may be,

married to--Dear Mrs. Jewkes, interrupted I, no more of your story, I

beseech you; I don't like the beginning of it. Go on, Mrs. Jewkes, said

my master. No, pray, sir, don't require it, said I, pray don't. Well,

said he, then we'll have it another time, Mrs. Jewkes. Abraham coming in to tell him the gentlemen were going, and that his

chariot was ready; I am glad of that, said he; and went to them, and set

out with them. I took a turn in the garden with Mrs. Jewkes, after they were gone: And

having walked a while, I said, I should be glad of her company down the

elm-walk, to meet the chariot: For, O! I know not how to look up at him,

when he is with me; nor how to bear his absence, when I have reason to

expect him: What a strange contradiction there is in this unaccountable

passion. What a different aspect every thing in and about this house bears now,

to my thinking, to what it once had! The garden, the pond, the alcove,

the elm-walk. But, oh! my prison is become my palace; and no wonder

every thing wears another face! We sat down upon the broad stile, leading towards the road; and Mrs.

Jewkes was quite another person to me, to what she was the last time I

sat there. At last my best beloved returned, and alighted there. What, my Pamela!

(and Mrs. Jewkes then left me,) What (said he, and kissed me) brings

you this way? I hope to meet me.--Yes, sir, said I. That's kind, indeed,

said he; but why that averted eye?--that downcast countenance, as if you

was afraid of me? You must not think so, sir, said I. Revive my heart

then, said he, with a more cheerful aspect; and let that over-anxious

solicitude, which appears in the most charming face in the world, be

chased from it.--Have you, my dear girl any fears that I can dissipate;

any doubts that I can obviate; any hopes that I can encourage; any

request that I can gratify?--Speak, my dear Pamela; and if I have power,

but speak, and to purchase one smile, it shall be done! I cannot, sir, said I, have any fears, any doubts, but that I shall

never be able to deserve all your goodness. I have no hopes, but that

my future conduct may be agreeable to you, and my determined duty well

accepted. Nor have I any request to make, but that you will forgive all

my imperfections and, among the rest, this foolish weakness, that makes

me seem to you, after all the generous things that have passed, to want

this further condescension, and these kind assurances. But indeed, sir,

I am oppressed by your bounty; my spirits sink under the weight of it;

and the oppression is still the greater, as I see not how, possibly,

in my whole future life, by all I can do, to merit the least of your

favours. I know your grateful heart, said he; but remember, my dear, what the

lawyers tell us, That marriage is the highest consideration which the

law knows. And this, my sweet bride, has made you mine, and me yours;

and you have the best claim in the world to share my fortune with me.

But, set that consideration aside, what is the obligation you have to

me? Your mind is pure as that of an angel, and as much transcends mine.

Your wit, and your judgment, to make you no compliment, are more than

equal to mine: You have all the graces that education can give a woman,

improved by a genius which makes those graces natural to you. You have

a sweetness of temper, and a noble sincerity, beyond all comparison; and

in the beauty of your person, you excel all the ladies I ever saw. Where

then, my dearest, is the obligation, if not on my side to you?--But, to

avoid these comparisons, let us talk of nothing henceforth but equality;

although, if the riches of your mind, and your unblemished virtue, be

set against my fortune, (which is but an accidental good, as I may call

it, and all I have to boast of,) the condescension will be yours; and

I shall not think I can possibly deserve you, till, after your sweet

example, my future life shall become nearly as blameless as yours. O, sir, said I, what comfort do you give me, that, instead of my being

in danger of being ensnared by the high condition to which your goodness

has exalted me, you make me hope, that I shall be confirmed and approved

by you; and that we may have a prospect of perpetuating each other's

happiness, till time shall be no more!--But, sir, I will not, as you

once cautioned me, be too serious. I will resolve, with these sweet

encouragements, to be, in every thing, what you would have me be: And I

hope I shall, more and more, shew you that I have no will but yours. He

kissed me very tenderly, and thanked me for this kind assurance, as he

called it. And so we entered the house together. Eight o'clock at night. Now these sweet assurances, my dear father and mother, you will say,

must be very consolatory to me; and being voluntary on his side, were

all that could be wished for on mine; and I was resolved, if possible,

to subdue my idle fears and apprehensions. Ten o'clock at night. As we sat at supper, he was generously kind to me, as well in his

actions, as expressions. He took notice, in the most delicate manner, of

my endeavour to conquer my foibles; and said, I see, with pleasure, my

dear girl strives to comport herself in a manner suitable to my wishes:

I see, even through the sweet tender struggles of your over-nice

modesty, how much I owe to your intentions of obliging me. As I have

once told you, that I am the conquest more of your virtue than your

beauty; so not one alarming word or look shall my beloved Pamela hear or

see, to give her reason to suspect the truth of what I aver. You may

the rather believe me, continued he, as you may see the pain I have

to behold any thing that concerns you, even though your concern be

causeless. And yet I will indulge my dear girl's bashful weakness so

far, as to own, that so pure a mind may suffer from apprehension, on so

important a change as this; and I can therefore be only displeased with

such part of your conduct, as may make your sufferings greater than my

own; when I am resolved, through every stage of my future life, in all

events, to study to make them less. After supper, of which, with all his sweet persuasions, I could hardly

taste, he made me drink two glasses of champaign, and, afterwards, a

glass of sack; which he kindly forced upon me, by naming your healths:

and as the time of retiring drew on, he took notice, but in a very

delicate manner, how my colour went and came, and how foolishly I

trembled. Nobody, surely, in such delightful circumstances, ever behaved

so silly!--And he said, My dearest girl, I fear you have had too much

of my company for so many hours together; and would better recollect

yourself, if you retired for half an hour to your closet. I wished for this, but durst not say so much, lest he should be angry;

for, as the hours grew on, I found my apprehensions increase, and my

silly heart was the unquieter, every time I could lift up my eyes to

his dear face; so sweetly terrible did he appear to my apprehensions. I

said, You are all goodness, dear sir; and I boldly kissed his dear

hand, and pressed it to my lips with both mine. And saluting me very

fervently, he gave me his hand, seeing me hardly able to stand, and led

me to my chamber-door, and then most generously withdrew. I went to my closet; and the first thing I did, on my knees, again

thanked God for the blessing of the day; and besought his divine

goodness to conduct my future life in such a manner, as should make me

a happy instrument of his glory. After this, being now left to my own

recollection, I grew a little more assured and lightsome; and the pen

and paper being before me, I amused myself with writing thus far. Eleven o'clock Thursday night. Mrs. Jewkes being come up with a message, desiring to know, whether

her master may attend upon me in my closet; and hinting to me, that,

however, she believed he did not expect to find me there; I have sent

word, that I beg he would indulge me one quarter of an hour.--So,

committing myself to the mercies of the Almighty, who has led me through

so many strange scenes of terror and affrightment, to this happy, yet

awful moment, I will wish you, my dear parents, a good night; and though

you will not see this in time, yet I know I have your hourly prayers,

and therefore cannot fail of them now. So, good night, good night! God

bless you, and God bless me! Amen, amen, if it be his blessed will,

subscribes Your ever-dutiful DAUGHTER! Friday evening. O how this dear excellent man indulges me in every thing! Every hour he

makes me happier, by his sweet condescension, than the former. He pities

my weakness of mind, allows for all my little foibles, endeavours to

dissipate my fears; his words are so pure, his ideas so chaste, and his

whole behaviour so sweetly decent, that never, surely, was so happy a

creature as your Pamela! I never could have hoped such a husband could

have fallen to my lot: and much less, that a gentleman, who had allowed

himself in attempts, that now I will endeavour to forget for ever,

should have behaved with so very delicate and unexceptionable a

demeanour. No light frothy jests drop from his lips; no alarming

railleries; no offensive expressions, nor insulting airs, reproach or

wound the ears of your happy, thrice happy daughter. In short, he says

every thing that may embolden me to look up, with pleasure, upon the

generous author of my happiness. At breakfast, when I knew not how to see him, he emboldened me by

talking of you, my dear parents; a subject, he generously knew, I could

talk of: and gave me assurances, that he would make you both happy.

He said, He would have me send you a letter to acquaint you with my

nuptials; and, as he could make business that way, Thomas should carry

it purposely, as to-morrow. Nor will I, said he, my dear Pamela, desire

to see your writings, because I told you I would not; for now I will, in

every thing, religiously keep my word with my dear spouse: (O the dear

delightful word!) and you may send all your papers to them, from those

they have, down to this happy moment; only let me beg they will preserve

them, and let me have them when they have read them; as also those I

have not seen; which, however, I desire not to see till then; but then

shall take it for a favour, if you will grant it. It will be my pleasure, as well as my duty, sir, said I, to obey you

in every thing: and I will write up to the conclusion of this day, that

they may see how happy you have made me. I know you will both join with me to bless God for his wonderful mercies

and goodness to you, as well as to me: For he was pleased to ask me

particularly after your circumstances, and said, He had taken notice,

that I had hinted, in some of my first letters, that you owed money in

the world; and he gave me fifty guineas, and bid me send them to you

in my packet, to pay your debts, as far as they would go; and that you

would quit your present business, and put yourself, and my dear mother,

into a creditable appearance; and he would find a better place of abode

for you than that you had, when he returned to Bedfordshire. O how shall

I bear all these exceeding great and generous favours!--I send them

wrapt up, five guineas in a parcel, in double papers. To me he gave no less than one hundred guineas more; and said, I would

have you, my dear, give Mrs. Jewkes, when you go away from hence, what

you think fit out of these, as from yourself.--Nay, good dear sir, said

I, let that be what you please. Give her, then, said he, twenty guineas,

as a compliment on your nuptials. Give Colbrand ten guineas give: the

two coachmen five guineas each; to the two maids at this house five

guineas each; give Abraham five guineas; give Thomas five guineas; and

give the gardeners, grooms, and helpers, twenty guineas among them. And

when, said he, I return with you to the other house, I will make you a

suitable present, to buy you such ornaments as are fit for my beloved

wife to appear in. For now, my Pamela, continued he, you are not to

mind, as you once proposed, what other ladies will say; but to appear as

my wife ought to do. Else it would look as if what you thought of, as

a means to avoid the envy of others of your sex, was a wilful slight

in me, which, I hope, I never shall be guilty of; and I will shew the

world, that I value you as I ought, and as if I had married the first

fortune in the kingdom: And why should it not be so, when I know none of

the first quality that matches you in excellence? He saw I was at a loss for words, and said, I see, my dearest bride! my

spouse! my wife! my Pamela! your grateful confusion. And kissing me, as

I was going to speak, I will stop your dear mouth, said he: You shall

not so much as thank me; for when I have done ten times more than this,

I shall but poorly express my love for so much beauty of mind, and

loveliness of person; which thus, said he, and clasped me to his

generous bosom, I can proudly now call my own!--O how, my dear parents,

can I think of any thing, but redoubled love, joy, and gratitude! And thus generously did he banish from my mind those painful

reflections, and bashful apprehensions, that made me dread to see

him for the first time this day, when I was called to attend him at

breakfast; and made me all ease, composure, and tranquillity. He then, thinking I seemed somewhat thoughtful, proposed a little turn

in the chariot till dinner-time: And this was another sweet relief

to me; and he diverted me with twenty agreeable relations, of what

observations he had made in his travels; and gave me the characters of

the ladies and gentlemen in his other neighbourhood; telling me whose

acquaintance he would have me most cultivate. And when I mentioned Lady

Davers with apprehension, he said, To be sure I love my sister dearly,

notwithstanding her violent spirit; and I know she loves me; and I can

allow a little for her pride, because I know what my own so lately was;

and because she knows not my Pamela, and her excellencies, as I do.

But you must not, my dear, forget what belongs to your character, as

my wife, nor meanly stoop to her; though I know you will choose, by

softness, to try to move her to a proper behaviour. But it shall be my

part to see, that you do not yield too much. However, continued he, as I would not publicly declare my marriage here,

I hope she won't come near us till we are in Bedfordshire; and then,

when she knows we are married, she will keep away, if she is not willing

to be reconciled; for she dares not, surely, come to quarrel with me,

when she knows it is done; for that would have a hateful and wicked

appearance, as if she would try to make differences between man and

wife.--But we will have no more of this subject, nor talk of any thing,

added he, that shall give concern to my dearest. And so he changed the

talk to a more pleasing subject, and said the kindest and most soothing

things in the world. When we came home, which was about dinner-time, he was the same

obliging, kind gentleman; and, in short, is studious to shew, on every

occasion, his generous affection to me. And, after dinner, he told

me, he had already written to his draper, in town, to provide him new

liveries; and to his late mother's mercer, to send him down patterns of

the most fashionable silks, for my choice. I told him, I was unable to

express my gratitude for his favours and generosity: And as he knew best

what befitted his own rank and condition, I would wholly remit myself

to his good pleasure. But, by all his repeated bounties to me, of so

extraordinary a nature, I could not but look forward with awe upon the

condition to which he had exalted me; and now I feared I should hardly

be able to act up to it in such a manner as should justify the choice he

had condescended to make: But that, I hoped, I should have not only his

generous allowance for my imperfections, which I could only assure him

should not be wilful ones, but his kind instructions; and that as often

as he observed any part of my conduct such as he could not entirely

approve, he would let me know it; and I would think his reproofs of

beginning faults the kindest and most affectionate things in the world

because they would keep me from committing greater; and be a means to

continue to me the blessing of his good opinion. He answered me in the kindest manner; and assured me, That nothing

should ever lie upon his mind which he would not reveal, and give me an

opportunity either of convincing him, or being convinced myself. He then asked me, When I should be willing to go to the Bedfordshire

house? I said, whenever he pleased. We will come down hither again

before the winter, said he, if you please, in order to cultivate the

acquaintance you have begun with Lady Jones, and Sir Simon's family;

and, if it please God to spare us to one another, in the winter I will

give you, as I promised for two or three months, the diversions of

London. And I think, added he, if my dear pleases, we will set out next

week, about Tuesday, for t'other house. I can have no objection, sir,

said I, to any thing you propose; but how will you avoid Miss Darnford's

solicitation for an evening to dance? Why, said he, we can make Monday

evening do for that purpose, if they won't excuse us. But, if you

please, said he, I will invite Lady Jones, Mr. Peters and his family,

and Sir Simon and his family, to my little chapel, on Sunday morning,

and to stay dinner with me; and then I will declare my marriage to them,

because my dear life shall not leave this country with the least reason

for a possibility of any body's doubting that it is so. O! how good

was this! But, indeed, his conduct is all of a piece, noble, kind, and

considerate! What a happy creature am I!--And then, may be, said he,

they will excuse us till we return into this country again, as to the

ball. Is there any thing, added he, that my beloved Pamela has still to

wish? If you have, freely speak. Hitherto, my dearest sir, replied I, you have not only prevented my

wishes, but my hopes, and even my thoughts. And yet I must own, since

your kind command of speaking my mind seems to shew, that you expect

from me I should say something; that I have only one or two things to

wish more, and then I shall be too happy. Say, said he, what they are.

Sir, proceeded I, I am, indeed, ashamed to ask any thing, lest it should

not be agreeable to you; and lest it should look as if I was taking

advantage of your kind condescensions to me, and knew not when to be

satisfied! I will only tell you, Pamela, said he, that you are not to imagine,

that these things, which I have done, in hopes of obliging you, are the

sudden impulses of a new passion for you. But, if I can answer for my

own mind, they proceed from a regular and uniform desire of obliging

you: which, I hope, will last as long as your merit lasts; and that, I

make no doubt, will be as long as I live. And I can the rather answer

for this, because I really find so much delight in myself in my present

way of thinking and acting, as infinitely overpays me; and which, for

that reason, I am likely to continue, for both our sakes. My beloved

wife, therefore, said he, for methinks I am grown fond of a name I once

despised, may venture to speak her mind; and I will promise, that, so

far as it is agreeable to me, and I cheerfully can, I will comply; and

you will not insist upon it, if that should not be the case. To be sure, sir, said I, I ought not, neither will I. And now you

embolden me to become an humble petitioner, and that, as I ought, upon

my knees, for the reinstating such of your servants, as I have been the

unhappy occasion of their disobliging you. He raised me up, and said,

My beloved Pamela has too often been in this suppliant posture to me,

to permit it any more. Rise, my fairest, and let me know whom, in

particular, you would reinstate; and he kindly held me in his arms, and

pressed me to his beloved bosom. Mrs. Jervis, sir, said I, in the first

place; for she is a good woman; and the misfortunes she has had in the

world, must make your displeasure most heavy to her. Well, said he, who next? Mr. Longman, sir, said I; and I am sure, kind

as they have been to me, yet would I not ask it, if I could not vouch

for their integrity, and if I did not think it was my dear master's

interest to have such good servants. Have you any thing further? said he.--Sir, said I, your good old butler,

who has so long been in your family before the day of your happy birth,

I would, if I might, become an advocate for! Well, said he, I have only to say, That had not Mr. Longman and Mrs.

Jervis, and Jonathan too, joined in a body, in a bold appeal to Lady

Davers, which has given her the insolent handle she has taken to

intermeddle in my affairs, I could easily have forgiven all the rest of

their conduct; though they have given their tongues no little license

about me: But I could have forgiven them, because I desire every body

should admire you; and it is with pride that I observe not only their

opinion and love, but that of every body else that knows you, justify my

own.--But yet, I will forgive even this, because my Pamela desires it;

and I will send a letter myself, to tell Longman what he owes to your

interposition, if the estate he has made in my family does not set him

above the acceptance of it. And, as to Mrs. Jervis, do you, my dear,

write a letter to her, and give her your commands, instantly, on, the

receipt of it, to go and take possession of her former charge; for now,

my dearest girl, she will be more immediately your servant; and I know

you love her so well, that you'll go thither with the more pleasure to

find her there.--But don't think, added he, that all this compliance is

to be for nothing. Ah, sir! said I, tell me but what I can do, poor as

I am in power, but rich in will; and I will not hesitate one moment. Why

then, said he, of your own accord, reward me for my cheerful compliance,

with one sweet kiss--I instantly said, Thus, then, dear sir, will I

obey; and, oh! you have the sweetest and most generous way in the world,

to make that a condition, which gives me double honour, and adds to

my obligations. And so I clasped my arms about his neck, and was not

ashamed to kiss him once and twice, and three times; once for every

forgiven person. Now, my dearest Pamela, said he, what other things have you to ask? Mr.

Williams is already taken care of; and, I hope, will be happy.--Have you

nothing to say for John Arnold? Why, dear sir, said I, you have seen the poor fellow's penitence in my

letters.--Yes, my dear, so I have; but that is his penitence for his

having served me against you; and, I think, when he would have betrayed

me afterwards, he deserves nothing to be said or done for him by either. But, dear sir, said I, this is a day of jubilee; and the less he

deserves, poor fellow, the more will be your goodness. And let me add

one word; That as he was divided in his inclinations between his duty to

you and good wishes to me, and knew not how to distinguish between the

one and the other, when he finds us so happily united by your great

goodness to me, he will have no more puzzles in his duty; for he has not

failed in any other part of it; but, I hope, will serve you faithfully

for the future. Well, then, suppose I put Mrs. Jewkes in a good way of business, in some

inn, and give her John for a husband? And then your gipsy story will be

made out, that she will have a husband younger than herself. You are all goodness, sir, said I. I can freely forgive poor Mrs.

Jewkes, and wish her happy. But permit me, sir, to ask, Would not this

look like a very heavy punishment to poor John? and as if you could not

forgive him, when you are so generous to every body else? He smiled and said, O my Pamela, this, for a forgiving spirit, is very

severe upon poor Jewkes: But I shall never, by the grace of God, have

any more such trying services, to put him or the rest upon; and if you

can forgive him, I think I may: and so John shall be at your disposal.

And now let me know what my Pamela has further to wish? O, my dearest sir, said I, not a single wish more has your grateful

Pamela! My heart is overwhelmed with your goodness! Forgive these tears

of joy, added I: You have left me nothing to pray for, but that God

will bless you with life, and health, and honour, and continue to me the

blessing of your esteem; and I shall then be the happiest creature in

the world. He clasped me in his arms, and said, You cannot, my dear life, be so

happy in me, as I am in you. O how heartily I despise all my former

pursuits, and headstrong appetites! What joys, what true joys, flow from

virtuous love! joys which the narrow soul of the libertine cannot take

in, nor his thoughts conceive! And which I myself, whilst a libertine,

had not the least notion of! But, said he, I expected my dear spouse, my Pamela, had something to ask

for herself. But since all her own good is absorbed in the delight her

generous heart takes in promoting that of others, it shall be my study

to prevent her wishes, and to make her care for herself unnecessary, by

my anticipating kindness. In this manner, my dear parents, is your happy daughter blessed in a

husband! O how my exulting heart leaps at the dear, dear word!--And I

have nothing to do, but to be humble, and to look up with gratitude to

the all-gracious dispenser of these blessings. So, with a thousand thanks, I afterwards retired to my closet, to write

you thus far. And having completed what I purpose for this packet, and

put up the kind obliging present, I have nothing more to say, but that

I hope soon to see you both, and receive your blessings on this happy,

thrice happy occasion. And so, hoping for your prayers, that I may

preserve an humble and upright mind to my gracious God, a dutiful

gratitude to my dear master and husband--that I may long rejoice in the

continuance of these blessings and favours, and that I may preserve,

at the same time, an obliging deportment to every one else, I conclude

myself, Your ever-dutiful and most happy daughter, PAMELA B---O think it not my pride, my dear parents, that sets me on glorying in my

change of name! Yours will be always dear to me, and what I shall never

be ashamed of, I'm sure: But yet--for such a husband!--What shall I say,

since words are too faint to express my gratitude and my joy! I have taken copies of my master's letter to Mr. Longman, and mine to

Mrs. Jervis, which I will send with the further occurrences, when I go

to the other dear house, or give you when I see you, as I now hope soon

to do. Saturday morning, the third of my happy nuptials. I must still write on, till I come to be settled in the duty of the

station to which I am so generously exalted, and to let you participate

with me the transporting pleasures that rise from my new condition, and

the favours that are hourly heaped upon me by the best of husbands. When

I had got my packet for you finished, I then set about writing, as he

had kindly directed me, to Mrs. Jervis; and had no difficulty till

I came to sign my name; and so I brought it down with me, when I was

called to supper, unsigned. My good master (for I delight, and always shall, to call him by that

name) had been writing to Mr. Longman; and he said, pleasantly, See,

here, my dearest, what I have written to your Somebody. I read as

follows: 'Mr. LONGMAN, 'I have the pleasure to acquaint you, that last Thursday I was married

to my beloved Pamela. I have had reason to be disobliged with you, and

Mrs. Jervis and Jonathan, not for your kindness to, and regard for, my

dear spouse, that now is, but for the manner, in which you appealed to

my sister Davers; which has made a very wide breach between her and me.

But as it was one of her first requests, that I would overlook what had

passed, and reinstate you in all your former charges, I think myself

obliged, without the least hesitation, to comply with it. So, if

you please, you may enter again upon an office which you have always

executed with unquestionable integrity, and to the satisfaction of

'Yours etc.' 'Friday afternoon.' 'I shall set out next Tuesday or Wednesday for Bedfordshire; and desire

to find Jonathan, as well as you, in your former offices; in which,

I dare say, you'll have the more pleasure, as you have such an early

instance of the sentiments of my dear wife, from whose goodness you may

expect every agreeable thing. She writes herself to Mrs. Jervis.' I thanked him most gratefully for his goodness; and afterwards took the

above copy of it; and shewed him my letter to Mrs. Jervis, as follows: 'My DEAR MRS. JERVIS, 'I have joyful tidings to communicate to you. For yesterday I was

happily married to the best of gentlemen, yours and my beloved master.

I have only now to tell you, that I am inexpressibly happy: that my

generous benefactor denies me nothing, and even anticipates my wishes.

You may be sure I could not forget my dear Mrs. Jervis; and I made it my

request, and had it granted, as soon as asked, that you might return

to the kind charge, which you executed with so much advantage to our

master's interest, and so much pleasure to all under your direction. All

the power that is put into my hands, by the most generous of men, shall

be exerted to make every thing easy and agreeable to you: And as I shall

soon have the honour of attending my beloved to Bedfordshire, it will

be a very considerable addition to my delight, and to my unspeakable

obligations to the best of men, to see my dear Mrs. Jervis, and to be

received by her with that pleasure, which I promise myself from her

affection. For I am, my dear good friend, and always will be, 'Yours, very affectionately, and gratefully,

PAMELA ----.' He read this letter, and said, 'Tis yours, my dear, and must be good:

But don't you put your name to it? Sir, said I, your goodness has given

me a right to a very honourable one but as this is the first occasion of

the kind, except that to my dear father and mother, I think I ought to

shew it you unsigned, that I may not seem over-forward to take advantage

of the honour you have done me. However sweetly humble and requisite, said he, this may appear to my

dear Pamela's niceness, it befits me to tell you, that I am every moment

more and more pleased with the right you have to my name: and, my dear

life, added he, I have only to wish I may be half as worthy as you are

of the happy knot so lately knit. He then took a pen himself, and

wrote, after Pamela, his most worthy sirname; and I under-wrote thus:

'O rejoice with me, my dear Mrs. Jervis, that I am enabled, by God's

graciousness, and my dear master's goodness, thus to write myself!' These letters, and the packet to you, were sent away by Mr. Thomas early

this morning. My dearest master is just gone to take a ride out, and intends to call

upon Lady Jones, Mr. Peters, and Sir Simon Darnford, to invite them

to chapel and dinner to-morrow; and says, he chooses to do it himself,

because the time is so short, they will, perhaps, deny a servant. I forgot to mention, that Mr. Williams was here yesterday, to ask leave

to go to see his new living, and to provide for taking possession of it;

and seemed so pleased with my master's kindness and fondness for me, as

well as his generous deportment to himself, that he left us in such a

disposition, as shewed he was quite happy. I am very glad of it; for it

would rejoice me to be an humble means of making all mankind so: And oh!

what returns ought I not to make to the divine goodness! and how ought

I to strive to diffuse the blessings I experience, to all in my

knowledge!--For else, what is it for such a worm as I to be exalted!

What is my single happiness, if I suffer it, niggard-like, to extend no

farther than to myself?--But then, indeed, do God Almighty's creatures

act worthy of the blessings they receive, when they make, or endeavour

to make, the whole creation, so far as is in the circle of their power,

happy! Great and good God! as thou hast enlarged my opportunities, enlarge also

my will, and make me delight in dispensing to others a portion of that

happiness, which I have myself so plentifully received at the hand

of thy gracious Providence! Then shall I not be useless in my

generation!--Then shall I not stand a single mark of thy goodness to a

poor worthless creature, that in herself is of so small account in the

scale of beings, a mere cipher on the wrong side of a figure; but shall

be placed on the right side; and, though nothing worth in myself, shall

give signification by my place, and multiply the blessings I owe to thy

goodness, which has distinguished me by so fair a lot! This, as I conceive, is the indispensable duty of a high condition; and

how great must be the condemnation of poor creatures, at the great day

of account, when they shall be asked, What uses they have made of the

opportunities put into their hands? and are able only to say, We have

lived but to ourselves: We have circumscribed all the power thou hast

given us into one narrow, selfish, compass: We have heaped up treasures

for those who came after us, though we knew not whether they would not

make a still worse use of them than we ourselves did! And how can such

poor selfish pleaders expect any other sentence, than the dreadful,

Depart, ye cursed! But sure, my dear father and mother, such persons can have no notion

of the exalted pleasures that flow from doing good, were there to be no

after-account at all! There is something so satisfactory and pleasing to reflect on the being

able to administer comfort and relief to those who stand in need of it,

as infinitely, of itself, rewards the beneficent mind. And how

often have I experienced this in my good lady's time, though but the

second-hand dispenser of her benefits to the poor and sickly, when she

made me her almoner!--How have I been affected with the blessings which

the miserable have heaped upon her for her goodness, and upon me for

being but the humble conveyer of her bounty to them!--And how delighted

have I been, when the moving report I have made of a particular

distress, has augmented my good lady's first intentions in relief of it! This I recall with pleasure, because it is now, by the divine goodness,

become my part to do those good things she was wont to do: And oh! let

me watch myself, that my prosperous state do not make me forget to look

up, with due thankfulness, to the Providence which has entrusted me

with the power, that so I may not incur a terrible woe by the abuse or

neglect of it! Forgive me these reflections, my dear parents; and let me have your

prayers, that I may not find my present happiness a snare to me; but

that I may consider, that more and more will be expected from me, in

proportion to the power given me; and that I may not so unworthily act,

as if I believed I ought to set up my rest in my mean self, and think

nothing further to be done, with the opportunities put into my hand, by

the divine favour, and the best of men! Saturday, seven o'clock in the evening. My master returned home to dinner, in compliment to me, though much

pressed to dine with Lady Jones, as he was, also, by Sir Simon, to dine

with him. But Mr. Peters could not conveniently provide a preacher for

his own church tomorrow morning, at so short a notice; Mr. Williams

being gone, as I said, to his new living; but believed he could for the

afternoon; and so he promised to give us his company to dinner, and to

read afternoon service: and this made my master invite all the rest, as

well as him, to dinner, and not to church; and he made them promise

to come; and told Mr. Peters, he would send his coach for him and his

family. Miss Darnford told him pleasantly, She would not come, unless he would

promise to let her be at his wedding; by which I find Mr. Peters has

kept the secret, as my master desired. He was pleased to give me an airing after dinner in the chariot, and

renewed his kind assurances to me, and, if possible, is kinder than

ever. This is sweetly comfortable to me, because it shews me he does not

repent of his condescensions to me; and it encourages me to look up to

him with more satisfaction of mind, and less doubtfulness. I begged leave to send a guinea to a poor body in the town, that I

heard, by Mrs. Jewkes, lay very ill, and was very destitute. He said,

Send two, my dear, if you please. Said I, Sir, I will never do any thing

of this kind without letting you know what I do. He most generously

answered, I shall then, perhaps, have you do less good than you would

otherwise do, from a doubt of me; though, I hope, your discretion, and

my own temper, which is not avaricious, will make such doubt causeless. Now, my dear, continued he, I'll tell you how we will order this point,

to avoid even the shadow of uneasiness on one side, or doubt on the

other. As to your father and mother, in the first place, they shall be quite

out of the question; for I have already determined in my mind about

them; and it is thus: They shall go down, if they and you think well of

it, to my little Kentish estate; which I once mentioned to you in such

a manner, as made you reject it with a nobleness of mind, that gave me

pain then, but pleasure since. There is a pretty little farm, and house,

untenanted, upon that estate, and tolerably well stocked, and I will

further stock it for them; for such industrious folks won't know how

to live without some employment; And it shall be theirs for both their

lives, without paying any rent; and I will allow them 50l. per annum

besides, that they may keep up the stock, and be kind to any other of

their relations, without being beholden to you or me for small matters;

and for greater, where needful, you shall always have it in your power

to accommodate them; for I shall never question your prudence. And we

will, so long as God spares our lives, go down, once a year, to see

them; and they shall come up, as often as they please, it cannot be

too often, to see us: for I mean not this, my dear, to send them from

us.--Before I proceed, does my Pamela like this? O, sir, said I, the English tongue affords not words, or, at least, I

have them not, to express sufficiently my gratitude! Teach me, dear sir,

continued I, and pressed his dear hand to my lips, teach me some other

language, if there be any, that abounds with more grateful terms; that I

may not thus be choked with meanings, for which I can find no utterance. My charmer! says he, your language is all wonderful, as your sentiments;

and you most abound, when you seem most to want!--All that I wish, is to

find my proposals agreeable to you; and if my first are not, my second

shall be, if I can but know what you wish. Did I say too much, my dearest parents, when I said, He was, if

possible, kinder and kinder?--O the blessed man! how my heart is

overwhelmed with his goodness! Well, said he, my dearest, let me desire you to mention this to them, to

see if they approve it. But, if it be your choice, and theirs, to have

them nearer to you, or even under the same roof with you, I will freely

consent to it. O no, sir, said I, (and I fear almost sinned in my grateful flight,) I

am sure they would not choose that; they could not, perhaps, serve God

so well if they were to live with you: For, so constantly seeing the

hand that blesses them, they would, it may be, as must be my care to

avoid, be tempted to look no further in their gratitude, than to the

dear dispenser of such innumerable benefits. Excellent creature! said he: My beloved wants no language, nor

sentiments neither; and her charming thoughts, so sweetly expressed,

would grace any language; and this is a blessing almost peculiar to

my fairest.--Your so kind acceptance, my Pamela, added he, repays the

benefit with interest, and leaves me under obligation to your goodness. But now, my dearest, I will tell you what we will do, with regard to

points of your own private charity; for far be it from me, to put under

that name the subject we have been mentioning; because that, and more

than that, is duty to persons so worthy, and so nearly related to my

Pamela, and, as such, to myself.--O how the sweet man outdoes me, in

thoughts, words, power, and every thing! And this, said he, lies in very small compass; for I will allow you two

hundred pounds a year, which Longman shall constantly pay you, at fifty

pounds a quarter, for your own use, and of which I expect no account;

to commence from the day you enter into my other house: I mean, said he,

that the first fifty pounds shall then be due; because you shall have

something to begin with. And, added the dear generous man, if this be

pleasing to you, let it, since you say you want words, be signified by

such a sweet kiss as you gave me yesterday. I hesitated not a moment to

comply with these obliging terms, and threw my arms about his dear neck,

though in the chariot, and blessed his goodness to me. But, indeed, sir,

said I, I cannot bear this generous treatment! He was pleased to say,

Don't be uneasy, my dear, about these trifles: God has blessed me with a

very good estate, and all of it in a prosperous condition, and generally

well tenanted. I lay up money every year, and have, besides, large sums

in government and other securities; so that you will find, what I have

hitherto promised, is very short of that proportion of my substance,

which, as my dearest wife, you have a right to. In this sweet manner did we pass our time till evening, when the chariot

brought us home; and then our supper succeeded in the same agreeable

manner. And thus, in a rapturous circle, the time moves on; every hour

bringing with it something more delightful than the past!--Sure nobody

was ever so blest as I! Sunday, the fourth day of my happiness. Not going to chapel this morning, the reason of which I told you, I

bestowed the time, from the hour of my beloved's rising, to breakfast,

in prayer and thanksgiving, in my closet; and now I begin to be quite

easy, cheerful, and free in my spirits; and the rather, as I find myself

encouraged by the tranquillity, and pleasing vivacity, in the temper

and behaviour of my beloved, who thereby shews he does not repent of his

goodness to me. I attended him to breakfast with great pleasure and freedom, and he

seemed quite pleased with me, and said, Now does my dearest begin to

look upon me with an air of serenity and satisfaction: it shall be

always, added he, my delight to give you occasion for this sweet

becoming aspect of confidence and pleasure in me.--My heart, dear sir,

said I, is quite easy, and has lost all its foolish tumults, which,

combating with my gratitude, might give an unacceptable appearance to my

behaviour: but now your goodness, sir, has enabled it to get the better

of its uneasy apprehensions, and my heart is all of one piece, and

devoted to you, and grateful tranquillity. And could I be so happy as to

see you and my good Lady Davers reconciled, I have nothing in this world

to wish for more, but the continuance of your favour. He said, I wish

this reconciliation, my dearest, as well as you: and I do assure you,

more for your sake than my own; and if she would behave tolerably, I

would make the terms easier to her, for that reason. He said, I will lay down one rule for you, my Pamela, to observe in your

dress; and I will tell you every thing I like or dislike, as it occurs

to me: and I would have you do the same, on your part; that nothing may

be upon either of our minds that may occasion the least reservedness. I have often observed, in married folks, that, in a little while, the

lady grows careless in her dress; which, to me, looks as if she would

take no pains to secure the affection she had gained; and shews a slight

to her husband, that she had not to her lover. Now, you must know, this

has always given me great offence; and I should not forgive it, even in

my Pamela: though she would have this excuse for herself, that thousands

could not make, That she looks lovely in every thing. So, my dear,

I shall expect of you always to be dressed by dinner-time, except

something extraordinary happens; and this, whether you are to go abroad,

or stay at home. For this, my love, will continue to you that sweet ease

in your dress and behaviour, which you are so happy a mistress of; and

whomsoever I bring home with me to my table, you'll be in readiness

to receive them; and will not want to make those foolish apologies to

unexpected visitors, that carry with them a reflection on the conduct

of those who make them; and, besides, will convince me, that you think

yourself obliged to appear as graceful to your husband, as you would to

persons less familiar to your sight. This, dear sir, said I, is a most obliging injunction; and I most

heartily thank you for it, and will always take care to obey it.--Why,

my dear, said he, you may better do this than half your sex; because

they too generally act in such a manner, as if they seemed to think it

the privilege of birth and fortune, to turn day into night, and night

into day, and are seldom stirring till it is time to sit down to dinner;

and so all the good old family rules are reversed: For they breakfast,

when they should dine; dine, when they should sup; and sup, when they

should go to bed; and, by the help of dear quadrille, sometimes go to

bed when they should rise.--In all things but these, my dear, continued

he, I expect you to be a lady. And my good mother was one of this

oldfashioned cut, and, in all other respects, as worthy a lady as any in

the kingdom. And so you have not been used to the new way, and may the

easier practise the other. Dear sir, said I, pray give me more of your sweet injunctions. Why

then, continued he, I shall, in the usual course, and generally, if not

hindered by company, like to go to bed with my dearest by eleven; and,

if I don't, shan't hinder you. I ordinarily now rise by six in summer. I

will allow you to be half an hour after me, or so. Then you'll have some time you may call your own, till you give me your

company to breakfast; which may be always so, as that we may have done

at a little after nine. Then will you have several hours again at your disposal, till two

o'clock, when I shall like to sit down at table. You will then have several useful hours more to employ yourself in, as

you shall best like; and I would generally go to supper by eight; and

when we are resolved to stick to these oldfashioned rules, as near as

we can, we shall have our visitors conform to them too, and expect them

from us, and suit themselves accordingly: For I have always observed,

that it is in every one's power to prescribe rules to himself. It is

only standing a few ridiculous jests at first, and that too from such,

generally, as are not the most worthy to be minded; and, after a while,

they will say, It signifies nothing to ask him: he will have his own

way. There is no putting him out of his bias. He is a regular piece of

clock-work, they will joke, and all that: And why, my dear, should we

not be so? For man is as frail a piece of machinery as any clock-work

whatever; and, by irregularity, is as subject to be disordered. Then, my dear, continued the charming man, when they see they are

received, at my own times, with an open countenance and cheerful heart;

when they see plenty and variety at my board, and meet a kind and

hearty welcome from us both; they will not offer to break in upon my

conditions, nor grudge me my regular hours: And as most of these people

have nothing to do, except to rise in a morning, they may as well come

to breakfast with us at half an hour after eight, in summer, as at ten

or eleven; to dinner at two, as at four, five, or six; and to supper

at eight, as at ten or eleven. And then our servants, too, will know,

generally, the times of their business, and the hours of their leisure

or recess; and we, as well as they, shall reap the benefits of

this regularity. And who knows, my dear, but we may revive the good

oldfashion in our neighbourhood, by this means?--At least it will be

doing our parts towards it; and answering the good lesson I learned at

school, Every one mend one. And the worst that will happen will be, that

when some of my brother rakes, such as those who broke in upon us, so

unwelcomely, last Thursday, are got out of the way, if that can ever be,

and begin to consider who they shall go to dine with in their rambles,

they will only say, We must not go to him, for his dinner-time is over;

and so they'll reserve me for another time, when they happen to suit it

better; or, perhaps, they will take a supper and a bed with me instead

of it. Now, my dearest, continued the kind man, you see here are more of my

injunctions, as you call them; and though I will not be so set, as to

quarrel, if they are not always exactly complied with; yet, as I know

you won't think them unreasonable, I shall be glad they may, as often as

they can; and you will give your orders accordingly to your Mrs. Jervis,

who is a good woman, and will take pleasure in obeying you. O dearest, dear sir, said I, have you nothing more to honour me with?

You oblige and improve me at the same time.--What a happy lot is mine! Why, let me see, my dearest, said he--But I think of no more at present:

For it would be needless to say how much I value you for your natural

sweetness of temper, and that open cheerfulness of countenance, which

adorns you, when nothing has given my fairest apprehensions for her

virtue: A sweetness, and a cheerfulness, that prepossesses in your

favour, at first sight, the mind of every one that beholds you.--I need

not, I hope, say, that I would have you diligently preserve this sweet

appearance: Let no thwarting accident, no cross fortune, (for we must

not expect to be exempt from such, happy as we now are in each other!)

deprive this sweet face of this its principal grace: And when any thing

unpleasing happens, in a quarter of an hour, at farthest, begin to

mistrust yourself, and apply to your glass; and if you see a gloom

arising, or arisen, banish it instantly; smooth your dear countenance;

resume your former composure; and then, my dearest, whose heart must

always be seen in her face, and cannot be a hypocrite, will find this a

means to smooth her passions also: And if the occasion be too strong for

so sudden a conquest, she will know how to do it more effectually, by

repairing to her closet, and begging that gracious assistance, which has

never yet failed her: And so shall I, my dear, who, as you once but too

justly observed, have been too much indulged by my good mother, have

an example from you, as well as a pleasure in you, which will never be

palled. One thing, continued he, I have frequently observed at the house of many

a gentleman, That when we have unexpectedly visited, or broken in upon

the family order laid down by the lady; and especially if any of us

have lain under the suspicion of having occasionally seduced our married

companion into bad hours, or given indifferent examples, the poor

gentleman has been oddly affected at our coming; though the good

breeding of the lady has made her just keep up appearances. He has

looked so conscious; has been so afraid, as it were, to disoblige; has

made so many excuses for some of us, before we had been accused, as have

always shewn me how unwelcome we have been; and how much he is obliged

to compound with his lady for a tolerable reception of us; and, perhaps,

she too, in proportion to the honest man's concern to court her smiles,

has been more reserved, stiff, and formal; and has behaved with an

indifference and slight that has often made me wish myself out of her

house; for too plainly have I seen that it was not his. This, my dear, you will judge, by my description, has afforded me

subject for animadversion upon the married life; for a man may not

(though, in the main, he is willing to flatter himself that he is master

of his house, and will assert his prerogative upon great occasions, when

it is strongly invaded) be always willing to contend; and such women

as those I have described, are always ready to take the field, and are

worse enemies than the old Parthians, who annoy most when they seem to

retreat; and never fail to return to the charge again, and carry on the

offensive war, till they have tired out resistance, and made the husband

willing, like a vanquished enemy, to compound for small matters, in

order to preserve something. At least the poor man does not care to let

his friends see his case; and so will not provoke a fire to break out,

that he sees (and so do his friends too) the meek lady has much ado to

smother; and which, very possibly, burns with a most comfortable ardour,

after we are gone. You smile, my Pamela, said he, at this whimsical picture; and, I am

sure, I never shall have reason to include you in these disagreeable

outlines; but yet I will say, that I expect from you, whoever comes to

my house, that you accustom yourself to one even, uniform complaisance:

That no frown take place on your brow: That however ill or well provided

we may be for their reception, you shew no flutter or discomposure: That

whoever you may have in your company at the time, you signify not,

by the least reserved look, that the stranger is come upon you

unseasonably, or at a time you wished he had not. But be facetious,

kind, obliging to all; and, if to one more than another, to such as have

the least reason to expect it from you, or who are most inferior at the

table; for thus will you, my Pamela, cheer the doubting mind, quiet the

uneasy heart, and diffuse ease, pleasure, and tranquillity, around my

board. And be sure, my dear, continued he, let no little accidents ruffle your

temper. I shall never forget once that I was at Lady Arthur's; and a

footman happened to stumble, and let fall a fine china dish, and broke

it all to pieces: It was grievous to see the uneasiness it gave the poor

lady: And she was so sincere in it, that she suffered it to spread all

over the company; and it was a pretty large one too; and not a person

in it but turned either her consoler, or fell into stories of the like

misfortunes; and so we all became, for the rest of the evening, nothing

but blundering footmen, and careless servants, or were turned

into broken jars, plates, glasses, tea-cups, and such like brittle

substances. And it affected me so much, that, when I came home, I went

to bed, and dreamt, that Robin, with the handle of his whip, broke the

fore glass of my chariot; and I was so solicitous, methought, to keep

the good lady in countenance for her anger, that I broke his head in

revenge, and stabbed one of my coach-horses. And all the comfort I had

when it was done, methought, was, that I had not exposed myself before

company; and there were no sufferers, but guilty Robin, and one innocent

coach-horse. I was exceedingly diverted with the facetious hints, and the pleasant

manner in which he gave them; and I promised to improve by the excellent

lessons contained in them. I then went up and dressed myself, as like a bride as I could, in my

best clothes; and, on inquiry, hearing my dearest master was gone to

walk in the garden, I went to find him out. He was reading in the little

alcove; and I said, Sir, am I licensed to intrude upon you?--No, my

dear, said he, because you cannot intrude. I am so wholly yours, that,

wherever I am, you have not only a right to join me, but you do me a

very acceptable favour at the same time. I have, sir, said I, obeyed your first kind injunction, as to dressing

myself before dinner; but may be you are busy, sir. He put up the papers

he was reading, and said, I can have no business or pleasure of equal

value to your company, my dear. What were you going to say?--Only, sir,

to know if you have any more kind injunctions to give me?--I could hear

you talk a whole day together.--You are very obliging, Pamela, said he;

but you are so perfectly what I wish, that I might have spared those I

gave you; but I was willing you should have a taste of my freedom with

you, to put you upon the like with me: For I am confident there can be

no friendship lasting, without freedom, and without communicating to one

another even the little caprices, if my Pamela can have any such, which

may occasion uneasiness to either. Now, my dear, said he, be so kind as to find some fault with me, and

tell me what you would wish me to do, to appear more agreeable to you.

O sir, said I, and I could have kissed him, but for shame, (To be sure

I shall grow a sad fond hussy,) I have not one single thing to wish for;

no, not one!--He saluted me very kindly, and said, He should be sorry if

I had, and forbore to speak it. Do you think, my dear sir, said I, that

your Pamela has no conscience? Do you think, that because you so

kindly oblige her, and delight in obliging her, that she must rack

her invention for trials of your goodness, and knows not when she's

happy?--O my dearest sir, added I, less than one half of the favours

you have so generously conferred upon me, would have exceeded my utmost

wishes! My dear angel, said he, and kissed me again, I shall be troublesome

to you with my kisses, if you continue thus sweetly obliging in your

actions and expressions. O sir, said I, I have been thinking, as I was

dressing myself, what excellent lessons you teach me! When you commanded me, at your table to cheer the doubting mind and

comfort the uneasy heart, and to behave most kindly to those who have

least reason to expect it, and are most inferior; how sweetly, in every

instance that could possibly occur, have you done this yourself by your

poor, unworthy Pamela, till you have diffused, in your own dear words,

ease, pleasure, and tranquillity, around my glad heart! Then again, sir, when you bid me not be disturbed by little accidents,

or by strangers coming in upon me unexpectedly, how noble an instance

did you give me of this, when, on our happy wedding-day, the coming of

Sir Charles Hargrave, and the other two gentlemen, (for which you were

quite unprovided, and which hindered our happiness of dining together on

that chosen day,) did not so disturb you, but that you entertained the

gentlemen pleasantly, and parted with them civilly and kindly! What

charming instances are these, I have been recollecting with pleasure, of

your pursuing the doctrine you deliver. My dear, said he, these observations are very kind in you, and much to

my advantage: But if I do not always (for I fear these were too much

accidents) so well pursue the doctrines I lay down, my Pamela must not

expect that my imperfections will be a plea for her nonobservance of my

lessons, as you call them; for, I doubt I shall never be half so perfect

as you; and so I cannot permit you to recede in your goodness, though I

may find myself unable to advance as I ought in my duty. I hope, sir, said I, by God's grace, I never shall. I believe it, said

he; but I only mention this, knowing my own defects, lest my future

lessons should not be so well warranted by my practice, as in the

instances you have kindly recollected. He was pleased to take notice of my dress; and spanning my waist with

his hands, said, What a sweet shape is here! It would make one regret to

lose it; and yet, my beloved Pamela, I shall think nothing but that loss

wanting, to complete my happiness.--I put my bold hand before his mouth,

and said, Hush, hush! O fie, sir!--The freest thing you have ever yet

said, since I have been yours!--He kissed my hand, and said, Such an

innocent wish, my dearest, may be permitted me, because it is the end

of the institution.--But say, Would such a case be unwelcome to my

Pamela?--I will say, sir, said I, and hid my blushing face on his bosom,

that your wishes, in every thing, shall be mine; but, pray, sir, say no

more. He kindly saluted me, and thanked me, and changed the subject.--I

was not too free, I hope. Thus we talked, till we heard the coaches; and then he said, Stay here,

in the garden, my dear, and I'll bring the company to you. And when

he was gone, I passed by the back-door, kneeled down against it, and

blessed God for not permitting my then so much desired escape. I went

to the pond, and kneeled down on the mossy bank, and again blessed God

there, for his mercy in my escape from myself, my then worst enemy,

though I thought I had none but enemies, and no friend near me. And so I

ought to do in almost every step of this garden, and every room in this

house!--And I was bending my steps to the dear little chapel, to make my

acknowledgment there; but I saw the company coming towards me. Miss Darnford said, So, Miss Andrews, how do you do now? O, you look so

easy, so sweetly, so pleased, that I know you'll let me dance at your

wedding, for I shall long to be there! Lady Jones was pleased to say I

looked like an angel: And Mrs. Peters said, I improved upon them every

time they saw me. Lady Darnford was also pleased to make me a fine

compliment, and said, I looked freer and easier every time she saw me.

Dear heart! I wish, thought I, you would spare these compliments; for I

shall have some joke, I doubt, passed on me by-and-by, that will make me

suffer for all these fine things. Mr. Peters said, softly, God bless you, dear daughter!--But not so much

as my wife knows it.--Sir Simon came in last, and took me by the hand,

and said, Mr. B----, by your leave; and kissed my hand five or six

times, as if he was mad; and held it with both his, and made a very free

jest, by way of compliment, in his way. Well, I think a young rake is

hardly tolerable; but an old rake, and an old beau, are two very sad

things!--And all this before daughters, women-grown!--I whispered my

dearest, a little after, and said, I fear I shall suffer much from Sir

Simon's rude jokes, by-and-by, when you reveal the matter.--'Tis his

way, my dear, said he; you must now grow above these things.--Miss Nanny

Darnford said to me, with a sort of half grave, ironical air,--Well,

Miss Andrews, if I may judge by your easy deportment now, to what it was

when I saw you last, I hope you will let my sister, if you won't me, see

the happy knot tied! For she is quite wild about it.--I courtesied,

and only said, You are all very good to me, ladies.--Mr. Peters's niece

said, Well, Miss Andrews, I hope, before we part, we shall be told the

happy day. My good master heard her, and said, You shall, you shall,

madam.--That's pure, said Miss Darnford. He took me aside, and said softly, Shall I lead them to the alcove,

and tell them there, or stay till we go in to dinner?--Neither, sir, I

think, said I, I fear I shan't stand it.--Nay, said he, they must know

it; I would not have invited them else.--Why then, sir, said I, let it

alone till they are going away.--Then, replied he, you must pull off

your ring. No, no, sir, said I, that I must not.--Well, said he, do you

tell Miss Darnford of it yourself.--Indeed, sir, answered I, I cannot. Mrs. Jewkes came officiously to ask my master, just then, if she should

bring a glass of rhenish and sugar before dinner, for the gentlemen and

ladies: And he said, That's well thought of; bring it, Mrs. Jewkes. And she came, with Nan attending her, with two bottles and glasses, and

a salver; and must needs, making a low courtesy, offered first to me;

saying, Will your ladyship begin? I coloured like scarlet, and said,

No;--my master, to be sure! But they all took the hint; and Miss Darnford said, I'll be hanged if

they have not stolen a wedding! said Mrs. Peters, It must certainly be

so! Ah! Mr. Peters. I'll assure you, said he, I have not married them. Where were you, said

she, and Mr. Williams, last Thursday morning? said Sir Simon, Let me

alone, let me alone; if any thing has been stolen, I'll find it out!

I'm a justice of the peace, you know. And so he took me by the hand,

and said, Come, madam, answer me, by the oath you have taken: Are you

married or not? My master smiled, to see me look so like a fool; and I said, Pray, Sir

Simon!--Ay, ay, said he; I thought you did not look so smirking upon

us for nothing.--Well, then, Pamela, said my master, since your blushes

discover you, don't be ashamed, but confess the truth! Now, said Miss Darnford, I am quite angry; and, said Lady Darnford, I am

quite pleased; let me give you joy, dear madam, if it be so. And so

they all said, and saluted me all round.--I was vexed it was before Mrs.

Jewkes; for she shook her fat sides, and seemed highly pleased to be a

means of discovering it. Nobody, said my master, wishes me joy. No, said Lady Jones, very

obligingly, nobody need; for, with such a peerless spouse, you want no

good wishes:--And he saluted them; and when he came last to me, said,

before them all, Now, my sweet bride, my Pamela, let me conclude with

you; for here I began to love, and here I desire to end loving, but not

till my life ends. This was sweetly said, and taken great notice of; and it was doing

credit to his own generous choice, and vastly more than I merited. But I was forced to stand many more jokes afterwards: For Sir Simon

said, several times, Come, come, madam, now you are become one of us, I

shall be a little less scrupulous than I have been, I'll assure you. When we came in to dinner, I made no difficulty of what all offered me,

the upper end of the table; and performed the honours of it with pretty

tolerable presence of mind, considering. And, with much ado, my good

benefactor promising to be down again before winter, we got off the

ball; but appointed Tuesday evening, at Lady Darnford's, to take leave

of all this good company, who promised to be there, my master designing

to set out on Wednesday morning for Bedfordshire. We had prayers in the little chapel, in the afternoon; but they all

wished for the good clerk again, with great encomiums upon you, my dear

father; and the company staid supper also, and departed exceeding well

satisfied, and with abundance of wishes for the continuance of our

mutual happiness; and my master desired Mr. Peters to answer for him to

the ringers at the town, if they should hear of it; till our return into

this country; and that then he would be bountiful to them, because he

would not publicly declare it till he had first done so in Bedfordshire. Monday, the fifth day. I have had very little of my dear friend's company this day; for he

only staid breakfast with me, and rode out to see a sick gentleman about

eighteen miles off, who begged (by a man and horse on purpose) to speak

with him, believing he should not recover, and upon part of whose estate

my master has a mortgage. He said, My dearest, I shall be very uneasy,

if I am obliged to tarry all night from you; but, lest you should be

alarmed, if I don't come home by ten, don't expect me: For poor Mr.

Carlton and I have pretty large concerns together; and if he should be

very ill, and would be comforted by my presence, (as I know he loves me,

and his family will be more in my power, if he dies, than I wish for,)

charity will not let me refuse. It is now ten o'clock at night, and I fear he will not return. I fear,

for the sake of his poor sick friend, who, I doubt, is worse. Though I

know not the gentleman, I am sorry for his own sake, for his family's

sake, and for my dear master's sake, who, by his kind expressions, I

find, loves him: And, methinks, I should be sorry any grief should touch

his generous heart; though yet there is no living in this world, without

too many occasions for concern, even in the most prosperous state. And

it is fit it should be so; or else, poor wretches, as we are! we should

look no farther, but be like sensual travellers on a journey homeward,

who, meeting with good entertainment at some inn on the way, put up

their rest there, and never think of pursuing their journey to their

proper home.--This, I remember, was often a reflection of my good

lady's, to whom I owe it. Eleven o'clock. Mrs. Jewkes has been with me, and asked if I will have her for a

bed-fellow, in want of a better? I thanked her; but I said, I would see

how it was to be by myself one night. I might have mentioned, that I made Mrs. Jewkes dine and sup with me;

and she was much pleased with it, and my behaviour to her. And I could

see, by her manner, that she was a little struck inwardly at some of her

former conduct to me. But, poor wretch! it is much, I fear, because I am

what I am; for she has otherwise very little remorse, I doubt. Her talk

and actions are entirely different from what they used to be, quite

circumspect and decent; and I should have thought her virtuous, and even

pious, had I never known her in another light. By this we may see, my dear father and mother, of what force example is,

and what is in the power of the heads of families to do: And this shews,

that evil examples, in superiors, are doubly pernicious, and doubly

culpable, because such persons are bad themselves, and not only do no

good, but much harm to others; and the condemnation of such must, to be

sure, be so much the greater!--And how much the greater still must my

condemnation be, who have had such a religious education under you,

and been so well nurtured by my good lady, if I should forget, with all

these mercies heaped upon me, what belongs to the station I am preferred

to!--O how I long to be doing some good! For all that is past yet, is

my dear, dear master's, God bless him! and return him safe to my wishes!

for methinks, already, 'tis a week since I saw him. If my love would not

be troublesome and impertinent, I should be nothing else; for I have a

true grateful spirit; and I had need to have such a one, for I am poor

in every thing but will. Tuesday morning, eleven o'clock. My dear, dear--master (I'm sure I should still say; but I will learn to

rise to a softer epithet, now-and-then) is not yet come. I hope he is

safe and well!--So Mrs. Jewkes and I went to breakfast. But I can do

nothing but talk and think of him, and all his kindness to me, and to

you, which is still me, more intimately!--I have just received a letter

from him, which he wrote overnight, as I find by it, and sent early this

morning. This is a copy of it.




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