


                               Samuel Richardson

                                   Pamela, or

                                        

                                Virtue Rewarded

 In a series of familiar letters from a beautiful young damsel to her parents:
and afterwards, in her exalted condition, between her, and persons of figure and
  quality, upon the most important and entertaining subjects, in genteel life.
  Publish'd in order to cultivate the principles of virtue and religion in the
                        minds of the youth of both sexes

                             Preface by the Editor.

IF to Divert and Entertain, and at the same time to Instruct, and Improve the
Minds of the YOUTH of both Sexes:
    IF to inculcate Religion and Morality in so easy and agreeable a manner, as
shall render them equally delightful and profitable to the younger Class of
Readers, as well as worthy of the Attention of Persons of maturer Years and
Understandings:
    IF to set forth in the most exemplary Lights, the Parental, the Filial, and
the Social Duties, and that from low to high Life:
    IF to paint VICE in its proper Colours, to make it deservedly Odious; and to
set VIRTUE in its own amiable Light, to make it truly Lovely:
    IF to draw Characters justly, and to support them equally:
    IF to raise a Distress from natural Causes, and to excite Compassion from
proper Motives:
    IF to teach the Man of Fortune how to use it; the Man of Passion how to
subdue it; and the Man of Intrigue, how, gracefully, and with Honour to himself,
to reclaim:
    IF to give practical Examples, worthy to be followed in the most critical
and affecting Cases, by the modest Virgin, the chaste Bride, and the obliging
Wife:
    IF to effect all these good Ends, in so probable, so natural, so lively a
manner, as shall engage the Passions of every sensible Reader, and strongly
interest them in the edifying Story:
    AND all without raising a single Idea throughout the Whole, that shall shock
the exactest Purity, even in those tender Instances where the exactest Purity
would be most apprehensive:
    IF these, (embellished with a great Variety of entertaining Incidents) be
laudable or worthy Recommendations of any Work, the Editor of the following
Letters, which have their Foundation in Truth and Nature, ventures to assert,
that all these desirable Ends are obtained in these Sheets: And as he is
therefore confident of the favourable Reception which he boldly bespeaks for
this little Work; he thinks any further Preface or Apology for it, unnecessary:
And the rather for two Reasons, 1st. Because he can Appeal from his own
Passions, (which have been uncommonly moved in persuing these engaging Scenes)
to the Passions of Every one who shall read them with the least Attention: And,
in the next place, because an Editor may reasonably be supposed to judge with an
Impartiality which is rarely to be met with in an Author towards his own Works.
                                                                     The Editor.
 

       To the Editor of the Piece entitled, Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded.

Dear Sir,
    I have had inexpressible Pleasure in the Perusal of your Pamela. It entirely
answers the Character you give of it in your Preface; nor have you said one Word
too much in Commendation of a Piece that has Advantages and Excellencies
peculiar to itself. For, besides the beautiful Simplicity of the Style, and a
happy Propriety and Clearness of Expression (the Letters being written under the
immediate Impression of every Circumstance which occasioned them, and that to
those who had a Right to know the fair Writer's most secret Thoughts) the
several Passions of the Mind must, of course, be more affectingly described, and
Nature may be traced in her undisguised Inclinations with much more Propriety
and Exactness, than can possibly be found in a Detail of Actions long past,
which are never recollected with the same Affections, Hopes, and Dreads, with
which they were felt when they occurred.
    This little Book will infallibly be looked upon as the hitherto much-wanted
Standard or Pattern for this Kind of Writing. For it abounds with lively Images
and Pictures; with Incidents natural, surprising, and perfectly adapted to the
Story; with Circumstances interesting to Persons in common Life, as well as to
those in exalted Stations. The greatest Regard is every where paid in it to
Decency, and to every Duty of Life: There is a constant Fitness of the Style to
the Persons and Characters described; Pleasure and Instruction here always go
hand in hand: Vice and Virtue are set in constant Opposition, and Religion
every-where inculcated in its native Beauty and cheerful Amiableness; not
dressed up in stiff, melancholy, or gloomy Forms, on one hand, nor yet, on the
other, debased below its due Dignity and noble Requisites, in Compliment to a
too fashionable but depraved Taste. And this I will boldly say, that if its
numerous Beauties are added to its excellent Tendency, it will be found worthy a
Place, not only in all Families (especially such as have in them young Persons
of either Sex) but in the Collections of the most curious and polite Readers.
For, as it borrows none of its Excellencies from the romantic Flights of
unnatural Fancy, its being founded in Truth and Nature, and built upon
Experience, will be a lasting Recommendation to the Discerning and Judicious;
while the agreeable Variety of Occurrences and Characters, in which it abounds,
will not fail to engage the Attention of the gay and more sprightly Readers.
    The moral Reflections and Uses to be drawn from the several Parts of this
admirable History, are so happily deduced from a crowd of different Events and
Characters, in the Conclusion of the Work, that I shall say the less on that
Head. But I think, the Hints you have given me, should also prefatorily be given
to the Publick; viz. That it will appear from several Things mentioned in the
Letters, that the Story must have happened within these Thirty Years past: That
you have been obliged to vary some of the Names of Persons, Places, etc. and to
disguise a few of the Circumstances, in order to avoid giving Offence to some
Persons, who would not choose to be pointed out too plainly in it; tho' they
would be glad it may do the Good so laudably intended by the Publication. And as
you have in Confidence submitted to my Opinion some of those Variations, I am
much pleased that you have so managed the Matter, as to make no Alteration in
the Facts; and, at the same time, have avoided the digressive Prolixity too
frequently used on such Occasions.
    Little Book, charming Pamela! face the World, and never doubt of finding
Friends and Admirers, not only in thine own Country, but far from Home; where
thou mayst give an Example of Purity to the Writers of a neighbouring Nation;
which now shall have an Opportunity to receive English Bullion in Exchange for
its own Dross, which has so long passed current among us in Pieces abounding
with all the Levities of its volatile Inhabitants. The reigning Depravity of the
Times has yet left Virtue many Votaries. Of their Protection you need not
despair. May every head-strong Libertine whose Hands you reach, be reclaimed;
and every tempted Virgin who reads you, imitate the Virtue, and meet the Reward
of the high-meriting, tho' low-descended, Pamela. I am, Sir,
Your most Obedient,
and Faithful Servant,
                                                                     J. B. D. F.
 

                To my worthy Friend, the Editor of Pamela, etc.

Sir,
    I return the Manuscript of Pamela by the Bearer, which I have read with a
great deal of Pleasure. It is written with that Spirit of Truth and agreeable
Simplicity, which, tho' much wanted, is seldom found in those Pieces which are
calculated for the Entertainment and Instruction of the Publick. It carries
Conviction in every Part of it; and the Incidents are so natural and
interesting, that I have gone hand-in-hand, and sympathiz'd with the pretty
Heroine in all her Sufferings, and been extremely anxious for her Safety, under
the Apprehensions of the bad Consequences which I expected, every Page, would
ensue from the laudable Resistance she made. I have interested myself in all her
Schemes of Escape; been alternately pleas'd and angry with her in her Restraint;
pleas'd with the little Machinations and Contrivances she set on foot for her
Release, and angry for suffering her Fears to defeat them; always lamenting,
with a most sensible Concern, the Miscarriages of her Hopes and Projects. In
short, the whole is so affecting, that there is no reading it without uncommon
Concern and Emotion. Thus far only as to the Entertainment it gives.
    As to Instruction and Morality, the Piece is full of both. It shows Virtue
in the strongest Light, and renders the Practice of it amiable and lovely. The
beautiful Sufferer keeps it ever in her View, without the least Ostentation, or
Pride; she has it so strongly implanted in her, that thro' the whole Course of
her Sufferings, she does not so much as hesitate once, whether she shall
sacrifice it to Liberty and Ambition, or not; but, as if there were no other way
to free and save herself, carries on a determin'd Purpose to persevere in her
Innocence, and wade with it throughout all Difficulties and Temptations, or
perish under them. It is an astonishing Matter, and well worth our most serious
Consideration, that a young beautiful Girl, in the low Scene of Life and
Circumstance in which Fortune placed her, without the Advantage of a Friend
capable to relieve and protect her, or any other Education than what occur'd to
her from her own Observation and little Reading, in the Course of her Attendance
on her excellent Mistress and Benefactress, could, after having a Taste of Ease
and Plenty in a higher Sphere of Life than what she was born and first brought
up in, resolve to return to her primitive Poverty, rather than give up her
Innocence. I say, it is surprising, that a young Person, so circumstanced,
could, in Contempt of proffer'd Grandeur on the one side, and in Defiance of
Penury on the other, so happily and prudently conduct herself thro' such a
Series of Perplexities and Troubles, and withstand the alluring Baits, and
almost irresistible Offers of a fine Gentleman, so universally admired and
esteemed, for the Agreeableness of his Person and good Qualities, among all his
Acquaintance; defeat all his Measures with so much Address, and oblige him, at
last, to give over his vain Pursuit, and sacrifice his Pride and Ambition to
Virtue, and become the Protector of that Innocence which he so long and so
indefatigably labour'd to supplant: And all this without ever having entertain'd
the least previous Design or Thought for that Purpose: No Art used to inflame
him, no Coquetry practised to tempt or intice him, and no Prudery or Affectation
to tamper with his Passions; but, on the contrary, artless and unpractised in
the Wiles of the World, all her Endeavours, and even all her Wishes, tended only
to render herself as un-amiable as she could in his Eyes: Tho' at the same time
she is so far from having any Aversion to his Person, that she seems rather
prepossess'd in his Favour, and admires his Excellencies, whilst she condemns
his Passion for her. A glorious Instance of Self-denial! Thus her very Repulses
became Attractions: The more she resisted, the more she charm'd; and the very
Means she used to guard her Virtue, the more indanger'd it, by inflaming his
Passions: Till, at last, by Perseverance, and a brave and resolute Defence, the
Besieged not only obtain'd a glorious Victory over the Besieger, but took him
Prisoner too.
    I am charmed with the beautiful Reflections she makes in the Course of her
Distresses; her Soliloquies and little Reasonings with herself, are exceeding
pretty and entertaining: She pours out all her Soul in them before her Parents
without Disguise; so that one may judge of, nay, almost see, the inmost Recesses
of her Mind. A pure clear Fountain of Truth and Innocence, a Magazine of Virtue
and unblemish'd Thoughts!
    I can't conceive why you should hesitate a Moment as to the Publication of
this very natural and uncommon Piece. I could wish to see it out in its own
native Simplicity, which will affect and please the Reader beyond all the
Strokes of Oratory in the World; for those will but spoil it: and, should you
permit such a murdering Hand to be laid upon it, to gloss and tinge it over with
superflous and needless Decorations, which, like too much Drapery in Sculpture
and Statuary, will but incumber it; it may disguise the Facts, marr the
Reflections, and unnaturalize the Incidents, so as to be lost in a Multiplicity
of fine idle Words and Phrases, and reduce our Sterling Substance into an empty
Shadow, or rather frenchify our English Solidity into Froth and Whip- No; let us
have Pamela as Pamela wrote it; in her own Words, without Amputation, or
Addition. Produce her to us in her neat Country Apparel, such as she appear'd
in, on her intended Departure to her Parents; for such best becomes her
Innocence and beautiful Simplicity. Such a Dress will best edify and entertain.
The flowing Robes of Oratory may indeed amuse and amaze, but will never strike
the Mind with solid Attention.
    In short, Sir, a Piece of this Kind is much wanted in the World, which is
but too much, as well as too early debauched by pernicious Novels. I know
nothing Entertaining of that Kind that one might venture to recommend to the
Perusal (much less the Imitation) of the Youth of either Sex: All that I have
hitherto read, tends only to corrupt their Principles, mislead their Judgments,
and initiate them into Gallantry and loose Pleasures.
    Publish then, this good, this edifying and instructive little Piece for
their Sakes. The Honour of Pamela's Sex demands Pamela at your Hands, to show
the World an Heroine, almost beyond Example, in an unusual Scene of Life, whom
no Temptations, or Sufferings, could subdue. It is a fine, and glorious
Original, for the Fair to copy out and imitate. Our own Sex, too, require it of
you, to free us, in some measure, from the Imputation of being incapable of the
Impressions of Virtue and Honour; and to show the Ladies, that we are not
inflexible while they are so.
    In short, the Cause of Virtue, calls for the Publication of such a Piece as
this. Oblige then, Sir, the concurrent Voices of both Sexes, and give us Pamela
for the Benefit of Mankind: And as I believe its Excellencies cannot be long
unknown to the World, and that there will not be a Family without it; so I make
no Doubt but every Family that has it, will be much improv'd and better'd by it.
'Twill form the tender Minds of Youth for the Reception and Practice of Virtue
and Honour; confirm and establish those of maturer Years on good and steady
Principles; reclaim the Vicious, and mend the Age in general; insomuch that as I
doubt not Pamela will become the bright Example and Imitation of all the
fashionable young Ladies of Great Britain; so the truly generous Benefactor and
Rewarder of her exemplary Virtue, will be no less admired and imitated among the
Beau Monde of our own Sex. I am,
                                                  Your affectionate Friend, etc.
 

                      Introduction to this Second Edition.

The kind Reception which this Piece has met with from the Publick, (a large
Impression having been carried off in less than Three Months) deserves not only
Acknowledgment, but that some Notice should be taken of the Objections that have
hitherto come to hand against a few Passages in it, that so the Work may be
rendered as unexceptionable as possible, and, of consequence, the fitter to
answer the general Design of it; which is to promote Virtue, and cultivate the
Minds of the Youth of both Sexes.
    But Difficulties having arisen from the different Opinions of Gentlemen,
some of whom applauded the very Things that others found Fault with, it was
thought proper to submit the Whole to the judgement of a Gentleman of the most
distinguish'd Taste and Abilities; the Result of which will be seen in the
subsequent Pages.
    We begin with the following Letter, at the Desire of several Gentlemen, to
whom, on a very particular Occasion, it was communicated, and who wish'd to see
it prefixed to the New Edition. It was directed,
 

                            To the Editor of Pamela.

Dear Sir,
    You have agreeably deceive'd me into a Surprise, which it will be as hard to
express, as the Beauties of Pamela. Though I open'd this powerful little Piece
with more Expectation than from common Designs, of like Promise, because it came
from your Hands, for my Daughters, yet, who could have dreamt, he should find,
under the modest Disguise of a Novel, all the Soul of Religion, Good-breeding,
Discretion, Good-nature, Wit, Fancy, Fine Thought, and Morality? - I have done
nothing but read it to others, and hear others again read it, to me, ever since
it came into my Hands; and I find I am likely to do nothing else, for I know not
how long yet to come: because, if I lay the Book down, it comes after me. - When
it has dwelt all Day long upon the Ear, It takes Possession, all Night, of the
Fancy. - It has Witchcraft in every Page of it: but it is the Witchcraft of
Passion and Meaning. Who is there that will not despise the false, empty Pomp of
the Poets, when he observes in this little, unpretending, mild Triumph of
Nature, the whole Force of Invention and Genius, creating new Powers of Emotion,
and transplanting Ideas of Pleasure into that unweeded low Garden the Heart,
from the dry and sharp Summit of Reason?
    Yet, I confess, there is One, in the World, of whom I think with still
greater Respect, than of Pamela: and That is, of the wonderful AUTHOR of Pamela.
- Pray, Who is he, Dear Sir? and where, and how, has he been able to hide,
hitherto, such an encircling and all-mastering Spirit? He possesses every
Quality that Art could have charm'd by: yet, has lent it to, and conceal'd it
in, Nature. - The Comprehensiveness of his Imagination must be truly prodigious!
- It has stretch'd out this diminutive mere Grain of Mustard-seed, (a poor
Girl's little, innocent, Story) into a Resemblance of That Heaven, which the
Best of Good Books has compar'd it to. - All the Passions are His, in their most
close and abstracted Recesses: and by selecting the most delicate, and yet, at
the same time, most powerful, of their Springs, thereby to act, wind, and
manage, the Heart, He moves us, every where, with the Force of a Tragedy.
    What is there, throughout the Whole, that I do not sincerely admire! - I
admire, in it, the strong distinguish'd Variety, and picturesque glowing
Likeness to Life, of the Characters. I know, hear, see, and live among 'em All:
and, if I cou'd paint, cou'd return you their Faces. I admire, in it, the noble
Simplicity, Force, Aptness, and Truth, of so many modest, oeconomical, moral,
prudential, religious, satirical, and cautionary, Lessons; which are introduc'd
with such seasonable Dexterity, and with so polish'd and exquisite a Delicacy,
of Expression and Sentiment, that I am only apprehensive, for the Interests of
Virtue, lest some of the finest, and most touching, of those elegant Strokes of
Good-breeding, Generosity, and Reflection, should'd be lost, under the too gross
Discernment of an unfeeling Majority of Readers; for whose Coarseness, however,
they were kindly design'd, as the most useful and charitable Correctives.
    One of the best-judg'd Peculiars, of the Plan, is, that These Instructions
being convey'd, as in a Kind of Dramatical Representation, by those beautiful
Scenes, Her own Letters and Journals, who acts the most moving and suffering
Part, we feel the Force in a threefold Effect, - from the Motive, the Act, and
the Consequence.
    But what, above All, I am charm'd with, is the amiable Good-nature of the
Author; who, I am convince'd, has one of the best, and most generous Hearts, of
Mankind: because, mis-measuring other Minds, by His Own, he can draw Every
thing, to Perfection, but Wickedness. -- I became inextricably in Love with this
delightful Defect of his Malice; - for, I found it owing to an Excess in his
Honesty. Only observe, Sir, with what virtuous Reluctance he complies with the
Demands of his Story, when he stands in need of some blameable Characters. Tho'
his judgement compels him to mark 'em with disagreeable Colourings, so that they
make an odious Appearance at first, He can't forbear, by an unexpected and
gradual Decline from Themselves, to soften and transmute all the Horror
conceiv'd for their Baseness, till we are arrive'd, through insensible Stages, at
an Inclination to forgive it entirely.
    I must venture to add, without mincing the matter, what I really believe, of
this Book. - It will live on, through Posterity, with such unbounded Extent of
Good Consequences, that Twenty Ages to come may be the Better and Wiser, for its
Influence. It will steal first, imperceptibly, into the Hearts of the Young and
the Tender: where It will afterwards guide and moderate their Reflections and
Resolves, when grown Older. And, so, a gradual moral Sunshine, of un-austere and
compassionate Virtue, shall break out upon the World, from this Trifle (for
such, I dare answer for the Author, His Modesty misguides him to think it). - No
Applause therefore can be too high, for such Merit. And, let me abominate the
contemptible Reserves of mean-spirited Men, who while they but hesitate their
Esteem, with Restraint, can be fluent and uncheck'd in their Envy. - In an Age
so deficient in Goodness, Every such Virtue, as That of this Author, is a
salutary Angel, in Sodom. And One who cou'd stoop to conceal, a Delight he
receives from the Worthy, wou'd be equally capable of submitting to an
Approbation of the Praise of the Wicked.
    I was thinking, just now, as I return'd from a Walk in the Snow, on that Old
Roman Policy, of Exemptions in Favour of Men, who had given a few, bodily,
Children to the Republick. - What superior Distinction ought our Country to find
(but that Policy and We are at Variance) for Reward of this Father, of Millions
of Minds, which are to owe new Formation to the future Effect of his Influence!
    Upon the whole, as I never met with so pleasing, so honest, and so truly
deserving a Book, I should'd never have done, if I explain'd All my Reasons for
admiring its Author. - If it is not a Secret, oblige me so far as to tell me his
Name: for since I feel him the Friend of my Soul, it would be a Kind of
Violation to retain him a Stranger. - I am not able to thank you enough, for
this highly acceptable Present. And, as for my Daughters, They have taken into
their Own Hands the Acknowledgment due from their Gratitude. I am,
Dear Sir,
                                                                      Your, etc.
Dec. 17, 1740.
 

              Abstract of a second Letter from the Same Gentleman

»- No Sentiments which I have here, or in my last, express'd, of the sweet
Pamela, being more than the bare Truth, which every Man must feel, who lends his
Ear to the enchanting Prattler, why does the Author's Modesty mislead his
judgement, to suspect the Style wants Polishing? - No, Sir, there is an Ease, a
natural Air, a dignify'd Simplicity, and measured Fullness, in it, that,
resembling Life, outglows it! He has reconciled the Pleasing to the Proper. The
Thought is everywhere exactly cloath'd by the Expression: And becomes its Dress
as roundly, and as close, as Pamela her Country-habit. Remember, tho' she put it
on with humble Prospect, of descending to the Level of her Purpose, it adorn'd
her, with such unpresum'd Increase of Loveliness; sat with such neat Propriety
of Elegant Neglect about her, that it threw out All her Charms, with tenfold,
and resistless Influence. - And so, dear Sir, it will be always found. - When
modest Beauty seeks to hide itself by casting off the Pride of Ornament, it but
displays itself without a Covering: And so, becoming more distinguished, by its
Want of Drapery, grows stronger, from its purpos'd Weakness.«
 
There were formed by an anonymous Gentleman, the following Objections to some
Passages in the Work.
 
1. That the Style ought to be a little raised, at least so soon as Pamela knows
the Gentleman's Love is honourable, and when her Diffidence is changed to Ease:
And from about the fourth Day after Marriage, it should be equal to the Rank she
is raise'd to, and charged to fill becomingly.
    2. That to avoid the Idea apt to be join'd with the Word 'Squire, the
Gentleman should be styled Sir James, or Sir John, etc. and Lady Davers in a new
Edition might procure for him the Title of a Baronet.
    3. That if the sacred Name were seldomer repeated, it would be better; for
that the Wise Man's Advice is, Be not righteous over-much.
    4. That the Penance which Pamela suffers from Lady Davers might be
shorten'd: That she is too timorous after owning her Marriage to that Lady, and
ought to have a little more Spirit, and get away sooner out at the Window, or
call her own Servants to protect, and carry her to her Husband's Appointment.
    5. That Females are too apt to be struck with Images of Beauty; and that the
Passage where the Gentleman is said to span the Waist of Pamela with his Hands,
is enough to ruin a Nation of Women by Tight-lacing.
    6. That the Word naughty had better be changed to some other, as Bad,
Faulty, Wicked, Vile, Abominable, Scandalous: Which in most Places would give an
Emphasis, for which recourse must otherwise be had to the innocent Simplicity of
the Writer; an Idea not necessary to the Moral of the Story, nor of Advantage to
the Character of the Heroine.
    7. That the Words, p. 361. Foolish Thing that I am, had better be Foolish
that I am. The same Gentleman observes by way of Postscript, that Jokes are
often more severe, and do more Mischief, than more solid Objections; and would
have one or two Passages alter'd, to avoid giving Occasion for the Supposition
of a double Entendre, particularly in two Places which he mentions, viz. p. 289
and 292.
 
He is pleased to take notice of several other Things of less Moment, some of
which are merely typographical; and very kindly expresses, on the Whole, a high
Opinion of the Performance, and thinks it may do a great deal of Good: For all
which, as well as for his Objections, the Editor gives him a very sincere
Thanks.
 
Others are of Opinion, That the Scenes in many Places, in the Beginning
especially, are too low; and that the Passions of Lady Davers, in particular,
are carried too high, and above Nature.
 
And others have intimated, That Pamela ought, for Example sake, to have
discharg'd Mrs. Jewkes from her Service.
 
These are the most material Objections that have come to hand, all which are
considered in the following Extracts from some of the most beautiful Letters
that have been written in any Language:
 
»The Gentleman's Advice, not to alter Pamela at all, was both friendly, and
solidly just. I run in, with full Sail, to his Anchorage, that the low Scenes
are no more out of Nature, than the high Passions of proud Lady Davers. Out of
Nature, do they say? 'Tis my Astonishment how Men of Letters can read with such
absent Attention! They are so far from Out of Nature, They are absolute Nature
herself! or, if they must be confess'd her Resemblance; they are such a
Resemblance, at least, as our true Face gives our Face in the Looking-glass.
    I wonder indeed, what it is, that the Gentlemen, who talk of Low Scenes,
wou'd desire should be understood by the Epithet? - Nothing, properly speaking,
is low, that suits well with the Place it is raise'd to. -- The Passions of
Nature are the same, in the Lord, and his Coach-man. All, that makes them seem
different consists in the Degrees, in the Means, and the Air, whereto or
wherewith they indulge 'em. If, in painting Distinctions like these, (which
arise but from the Forms of Men's Manners, drawn from Birth, Education, and
Custom) a Writer falls short of his Characters, there his Scene is a low one,
indeed, whatever high Fortune it flatter'd. But, to imagine that Persons of Rank
are above a Concern for what is thought, felt, or acted, by others, of their
Species, between whom and themselves is no Difference, except such as was owing
to Accident, is to reduce Human Nature to a Lowness, - too low for the Truth of
her Frailty. -
    In Pamela, in particular, we owe All to her Lowness. It is to the docile
Effects of this Lowness of that amiable Girl, in her Birth, her Condition, her
Hopes, and her Vanities, in every thing, in short, but her Virtue, - that her
Readers are indebted, for the moral Reward, of that Virtue. And if we are to
look for the Low among the Rest of the Servants, less lovely tho' they are, than
a Pamela, there is something however, so glowingly painted, in the Lines whereby
the Author has mark'd their Distinctions -- Something, so movingly forceful, in
the Grief at their Parting, and Joy at the happy Return, - Something so finely,
at once, and so strongly and feelingly, varied, even in the smallest and least
promising, little Family Incidents! that I need only appeal from the Heads, to
the Hearts of the Objectors themselves, whether these are low Scenes to be
censur'd?
    And as for the opposite Extreme they wou'd quarrel with, the high-passion'd,
and un-tam'd Lady Davers, - I cou'd direct 'em to a Dozen or two of Quality
Originals, from whom (with Exception perhaps of her Wit) one wou'd swear the
Author had taken her Copy. - What a Sum might these Objectors ensure, to be
paid, by the Husbands and Sons, of such termagant, hermaphrodite Minds, upon
their making due Proof, that they were no longer to be found, in the Kingdom!
    I know, you are too just to imagine me capable of giving any other Opinion
than my best-weigh'd and true one. But, because it is fit you should have
Reasons, in Support of a judgement that can neither deserve nor expect an
implicit Reception, I will run over the Anonymous Letter I herewith return you;
and note with what Lightness even Men of good-natur'd Intention fall into
Mistakes, by Neglect in too hasty Perusals, which their Benevolence wou'd take
Pleasure in blushing at, when they discover their Weakness, in a cooler Revisal.
    The Writer of this Letter is for having the Style raise'd, after Pamela's
Advance in her Fortune. But surely, This was hasty Advice: because, as the
Letters are writ to her Parents, it wou'd have look'd like forgetting, and, in
some sort, insulting, the Lowliness of their inferior Condition, to have assum'd
a new Air in her Language, in Place of retaining a steady Humility. But, here,
it must not be pass'd unobserv'd, that in her Reports of Conversations that
follow'd her Marriage, she does, aptly and beautifully, heighten her Style, and
her Phrases: still returning however to her decent Simplicity, in her Addresses
to her Father and Mother.
    I am against giving a Gentleman (who has ennobled himself, by reforming his
Vices, and rewarding the Worth of the Friendless) the unnecessary new Toy of a
Title. It is all strong in Nature, as it stands in the Letters: and I don't see
how Greatness, from Titles, can add Likeness or Power, to the Passions. So
complete a Resemblance of Truth stands in need of no borrow'd Pretensions.
    The Only of this Writer's Objections, which, I think, carries Weight, is
That, which advises some little Contraction of the Prayers, and Appeals to the
Deity. I say little Contraction: for they are nobly and sincerely pathetic. And
I say it only in Fear, lest, if fansied too long, by the fashionably Averse to
the Subject, Minds, which most want the purpos'd Impression, might hazard the
Loss of its Benefit, by passing over those pious Reflections, which, if shorter,
would catch their Attention.
    Certainly, the Gentleman's Objection against the Persecution that Pamela
suffers from Lady Davers, in respect to the Relation this Madwoman bears to the
Brother, is the rashest of All his Advices! And when he thinks she ought rather
to have assum'd the Protection of her Servants, he seems unaware of the probable
Consequence; where there was a Puppy, of Quality, in the Case, who had, even
without Provocation, drawn his Sword on the poor passive PAMELA. Far from
bearing a Thought of exciting an abler Resentment, to the Danger of a Quarrel
with so worthless a Coxcomb, how charmingly natural, apprehensive, and generous,
is her Silence (during the Recital she makes of her Sufferings) with regard to
this masculine Part of the Insult! as also her Prevention of Mrs. Jewkes's less
delicate Bluntness, when she was beginning to complain of the whelp Lord's
Impertinence!
    If I were not afraid of a Pun, I should'd tell the anonymous Letter-writer,
that he made a too tight-laced Objection, where he quarrels with the spann'd
Waist of Pamela. What, in the Name of Unshapliness! cou'd he find, to complain
of, in a beautiful Girl of Sixteen, who was born out of Germany, and had not,
yet, reach'd ungraspable Roundness! -- These are wonderful Sinkings from
Purpose, where a Man is considering such mental, and passionate Beauties, as
this Gentleman profess'd to be touch'd by!
    But, when he goes on, to object against the Word naughty, (as apply'd in the
Phrase naughty Master) I grow mortified, in Fear of our human Sufficiency,
compar'd with our aptness to blunder! For, here, 'tis plain, this Director of
Another's Discernment is quite blind, Himself, to an Elegance, one wou'd have
thought it impossible not to be struck by? - Faulty, wicked, abominable,
scandalous, (which are the angry Adjectives, he prefers to that sweet one) wou'd
have carried Marks of her Rage, not Affliction - whereas naughty contains, in
One single significant Petulance, twenty thousand inexpressible Delicacies! - It
insinuates, at once, all the beautiful Struggle, between her Contempt of his
Purpose, and tender Regard for his Person; her Gratitude to Himself and his
Family; her Recollection of his superior Condition. - There is in the elegant
Choice of this half-kind, half-peevish, Word, a never-enough to be prais'd
speaking Picture of the Conflict betwixt her Disdain, and her Reverence! See,
Sir, the Reason I had, for apprehending some Danger that the refin'd Generosity
in many of the most charming of the Sentiments wou'd be lost, upon the too
coarse Conception of some, for whose Use the Author intended them.
    It is the same Case again, in foolish Thing that I am! which this nice,
un-nice, Gentleman wou'd advise you to change, into foolish that I am! He does
not seem to have tasted the pretty Contempt of Herself, the submissive
Diminutive, so distant from Vanity, yet allay'd by the gentle Reluctance in
Self-condemnation; - and the other fine Touches of Nature: which wou'd All have
been lost, in the grave, sober Sound of his Dutch Emendation.
    As to his Paragraph in Postscript, I shall say the less of it, because the
Gentleman's own good Sense seems to confess, by the Place he has chosen to rank
it in, that it ought to be turn'd out of Doors, as too dirty for the rest of his
Letter. - In the Occasions he is pleas'd to discover for Jokes, I either find
not, that he has any Signification at all, or such vulgar, coarse-tasted
Allusions to loose low-life Idioms, that not to understand what he means, is
both the cleanliest, and prudentest Way of confuting him.
    And now, Sir, you will easily gather how far I am from thinking it needful
to change any thing in Pamela. I would not scratch such a beautiful Face, for
the Indies!
    You can hardly imagine how it charms me to hear of a Second Edition already!
but the News of still new upon new ones, will be found no Subject of Wonder. As
'tis sure, that no Family is without Sisters, or Brothers, or Daughters, or
Sons, who can read; or wants Fathers, or Mothers, or Friends, who can think; so
equally certain it is, that the Train to a Parcel of Powder does not run on with
more natural Tendency, till it sets the whole Heap in a Blaze, than that Pamela,
enchanting from Family to Family, will overspread all the Hearts of the Kingdom.
    As to the Objection of those warm Friends to Honesty, who are for having
Pamela dismiss Mrs. Jewkes; there is not One, among All these benevolent
Complainers, who wou'd not discern himself to have been, laudably, in the wrong,
were he only to be ask'd this plain Question - Whether a Step, both ill-judg'd,
and undutiful, had not been the Reverse of a PAMELA'S Character? - Two or three
times over, Mr. B-- had inform'd her, that Mrs. Jewkes and Himself having been
equally involv'd in One Guilt, she must forgive, or condemn, Both together.
After this, it grew manifest Duty not to treat her with Marks of Resentment. -
And, as here was a visible Necessity to appear not desirous of turning her away,
so, in point of mere Moral Regard to the bad Woman Herself, it was nobler, to
retain her, with a Prospect of correcting, in Time, her loose Habit of thinking,
than, by casting her off, to the licentious Results of her Temper, abandon her
to Temptations and Danger, which a Virtue like PAMELA'S cou'd not wish her
expos'd to.«
 
The Manner in which this admirable Gentleman gives his Opinion of the Piece, and
runs thro' the principal Characters, is so masterly, that the Readers of Pamela
will be charm'd by it, tho' they should suppose, that his inimitable Benevolence
has over-valu'd the piece itself.
 
»Inspir'd, without doubt, by some Skill, more than human, and comprehending in
an humble, and seemingly artless, Narration, a Force that can tear up the
Heart-strings, this Author has prepare'd an enamouring Philtre for the Mind,
which will excite such a Passion for Virtue, as scarce to leave it in the Power
of the Will to neglect her.
    Longinus, I remember, distinguishing by what Marks we may know the Sublime,
says, it is chiefly from an Effect that will follow the Reading it: a
delightfully-adhering Idea, that clings fast to the Memory; and from which it is
difficult for a Man to disengage his Attention. - If this is a Proof of the
Sublime, there was never Sublimity so lastingly felt, as in PAMELA!
    Not the Charmer's own prattling Idea stuck so close to the Heart of her
Master, as the Incidents of her Story to the Thoughts of a Reader. - The Author
transports, and transforms, with a Power more extensive than Horace requires, in
his POET! -
    Mr. B--, and the Turns of his Passions - and the Softness, yet Strength, of
their amiable Object - after having given us the most masterly Image of Nature,
that ever was painted! take Possession of, and dwell in, the Memory.
    And there, too, broods the kind and the credulous Parson WILLIAMS'S Dove,
(without serpentine Mixture) hatching Pity and Affection, for an Honesty so
sincere, and so silly!
    There too, take their Places All the lower Supports of this beautiful
Fabrick. -
    I am sometimes transform'd into plain Goodman ANDREWS, and sometimes the
good Woman, his Wife.
    As for old Mr. LONGMAN, and JONATHAN, the Butler, they are sure of me both,
in their Turns.
    Now and-then, I am COLBRAND the Swiss: but, as broad as I stride, in that
Character, I can never escape Mrs. JEWKES: who often keeps me awake in the Night
-
    Till the Ghost of Lady DAVERS, drawing open the Curtains, scares the Scarer,
of me, and of PAMELA! -
    And, then, I take Shelter with poor penitent JOHN, and the rest of the Men
and the Maids, of all whom I may say, with compassionate Marcia,
 
                      -- The Youths DIVIDE their Reader.«
 
And this fine Writer adds:
 
    »I am glad I made War, in my last, upon the Notion of altering the Style:
for, having read it twice over since then, (and to Audiences, where the Tears
were applausively eloquent) I could hardly, here and there, find a Place, where
one Word can be chang'd for a better. There are some indeed, where 'twere
possible to leave out, a few, without making a Breach in the Building. But, in
short, the Author has put so bewitching a Mixture together, of the Rais'd with
the Natural, and the Soft with the Strong and the Eloquent - that never
Sentiments were finer, and fuller of Life! never any were utter'd so sweetly! -
Even in what relates to the pious and frequent Addresses to God, I now retract
(on these two last Revisals) the Consent I half gave, on a former, to the
anonymous Writer's Proposal, who advis'd the Author to shorten those Beauties.
-- Whoever considers his Pamela with a View to find Matter for Censure, is in
the Condition of a passionate Lover, who breaks in upon his Mistress, without
Fear or Wit, with Intent to accuse her, and quarrel - He came to her with Pique
in his Purpose; but his Heart is too hard for his Malice - and he goes away more
enslav'd, for complaining.«
 
The following delightful Story, so admirably related, will give great Pleasure
to the Reader; and we take the Liberty of inserting it, for that very Reason.
 
»What a never-to-be satisfied Length has this Subject always the Power of
attracting me into! And yet, before I have done, I must by your means tell the
Author a Story, which a Judge not so skillful in Nature as he is, might be in
Danger perhaps of mistaking, for a trifling and silly one. I expect it should'd
give him the clearest Conviction, in a Case he is subject to question.
    We have a lively little Boy in the Family, about seven Years old - but, alas
for him, poor Child! quite unfriended; and born to no Prospect. He is the Son of
an honest, poor Soldier, by a Wife, grave, unmeaning, and innocent. Yet the Boy,
(see the Power of connubial Simplicity) is so pretty, so genteel, and
gay-spirited, that we have made him, and design'd him, our own, ever since he
could totter, and waddle. The wanton Rogue is half Air: and every Motion he acts
by has a Spring, like Pamela's when she threw down the Card-table. All this
Quickness, however, is temper'd by a good-natur'd Modesty: so that the wildest
of his Flights are thought rather diverting than troublesome. He is an hourly
Foundation for Laughter, from the Top of the House to the Parlours: and, to
borrow an Attribute from the Reverend Mr. Peters, (tho' without any Note of his
Musick) plays a very good FIDDLE in the Family. I have told you the History of
this Tom-tit of a Prater, because, ever since my first reading of PAMELA, he
puts in for a Right to be one of her Hearers; and, having got half her Sayings
by heart, talks in no other Language but hers: and, what really surprises, and
has charm'd me into a certain Fore-taste of her Influence, he is, at once,
become fond of his Book; which (before) he cou'd never be brought to attend to -
that he may read PAMELA, he says, without stopping. The first Discovery we made
of this Power over so unripe and unfix'd an Attention, was, one Evening, when I
was reading her Reflections at the Pond to some Company. The little rampant
Intruder, being kept out by the Extent of the Circle, had crept under my Chair,
and was sitting before me, on the Carpet, with his Head almost touching the
Book, and his Face bowing down toward the Fire. - He had sat for some time in
this Posture, with a Stillness, that made us conclude him asleep: when, on a
sudden, we heard a Succession of heart-heaving Sobs; which while he strove to
conceal from our Notice, his little Sides swell'd, as if they wou'd burst, with
the throbbing Restraint of his Sorrow. I turn'd his innocent Face, to look
toward me; but his Eyes were quite lost, in his Tears: which running down from
his Cheeks in free Currents, had form'd two sincere little Fountains, on that
Part of the Carpet he hung over. All the Ladies in Company were ready to devour
him with Kisses: and he has, since, become doubly a Favourite - and is perhaps
the youngest of Pamela's Converts.
 
The same incomparable Writer has favour'd us with an Objection, that is more
material than any we have mention'd; which cannot be better stated nor answer'd,
than in his own beautiful Words; viz.
 
An Objection is come into my Thoughts, which I should be glad the Author would
think proper to obviate in the Front of the Second Edition.
    There are Mothers, or Grandmothers, in all Families of affluent Fortune,
who, tho' they may have none of Lady Davers's Insolence, will be apt to feel one
of her Fears, - that the Example of a Gentleman so amiable as Mr. B-- may be
follow'd, by the Jackies, their Sons, with too blind and unreflecting a
Readiness. Nor does the Answer of that Gentleman to his Sister's Reproach come
quite up to the Point they will rest on. For, tho' indeed it is true, all the
World wou'd acquit the best Gentleman in it, if he married such a Waiting-maid
as Pamela, yet, there is an ill-discerning Partiality, in Passion, that will
overthrow all the Force of that Argument: because every belove'd Maid will be
PAMELA, in a judgement obscur'd by her Influence.
    And, since the Ground of this Fear will seem solid, I don't know how to be
easy, till it is shown (nor ought it to be left to the Author's Modesty) that
they who consider his Design in that Light will be found but short-sighted
Observers.
    Request it of him then to suffer to be told them, that not a limited, but
general, Excitement to Virtue was the first and great End to his Story: And that
this Excitement must have been deficient, and very imperfectly offer'd, if he
had not look'd quite as low as he cou'd for his Example: because if there had
been any Degree or Condition, more remote from the Prospect than that which he
had chosen to work on, that Degree might have seem'd out of Reach of the Hope,
which it was his generous Purpose to encourage. - And, so, he was under an
evident Necessity to find such a Jewel in a Cottage: and expos'd, too, as she
was, to the severest Distresses of Fortune, with Parents unable to support their
own Lives, but from the daily hard Product of Labour.
    Nor wou'd it have been sufficient to have plac'd her thus low and
distressful, if he had not also suppose'd her a Servant: and that too in some
elegant Family; for if she had always remain'd a Fellow-cottager with her
Father, it must have carried an Air of Romantick Improbability to account for
her polite Education.
    If she had wanted those Improvements, which she found means to acquire in
her Service, it wou'd have been very unlikely, that she should'd have succeeded so
well; and had destroy'd one great Use of the Story, to have allow'd such
uncommon Felicity to the Effect of mere personal Beauty. - And it had not been
judicious to have represented her as educated in a superior Condition of Life
with the proper Accomplishments, before she became reduce'd by Misfortunes, and
so not a Servant, but rather an Orphan under hopeless Distresses - because
Opportunities which had made it no Wonder how she came to be so winningly
qualified, wou'd have lessen'd her Merit in being so. And besides, where had
then been the purpos'd Excitement of Persons in PAMELA'S Condition of Life, by
an Emulation of her Sweetness, Humility, Modesty, Patience, and Industry, to
attain some faint Hope of arriving, in time, within View of her Happiness? --
And what a delightful Reformation should'd we see, in all Families, where the
Vanity of their Maids took no Turn toward Ambition to please, but by such
innocent Measures, as PAMELA'S!
    As it is clear, then, the Author was under a Necessity to suppose her a
Servant, he is not to be accountable for mistaken Impressions, which the Charms
he has given her may happen to make, on wrong Heads, or weak Hearts, tho' in
Favour of Maids the Reverse of her Likeness.
    What is it then (they may say) that the Lowness, and Distance of Pamela's
Condition from the Gentleman's who married her, proposes to teach the Gay World,
and the Fortunate? - It is this - By Comparison with that infinite Remoteness of
her Condition from the Reward which her Virtue procur'd her, one great Proof is
deriv'd, (which is Part of the Moral of PAMELA) that Advantages from Birth, and
Distinction of Fortune, have no Power at all, when consider'd against those from
Behaviour, and Temper of Mind: because where the Last are not added, all the
First will be boasted in vain. Whereas she who possesses the Last finds no Want
of the First, in her Influence.
    In that Light alone let the Ladies of Rank look at PAMELA. - Such an
alarming Reflection as that will, at the same time that it raises the Hope and
Ambition of the Humble, correct and mortify the Disdain of the Proud. For it
will compel them to observe, and acknowledge, that 'tis the Turn of their Mind,
not the Claims of their Quality, by which (and which only) Womens Charms can be
lasting: And that, while the haughty Expectations, inseparable from an elevated
Rank, serve but to multiply its Complaints and Afflictions, the Condescensions
of accomplish'd Humility, attracting Pity, Affection, and Reverence, secure an
hourly Increase of Felicity. - So that the moral Meaning of PAMELA'S
Good-fortune, far from tempting young Gentlemen to marry such Maids as are found
in their Families, is, by teaching Maids to deserve to be Mistresses, to stir up
Mistresses to support their Distinction.«
 
We shall only add, That it was intended to prefix two neat Frontispieces to this
Edition, (and to present them to the Purchasers of the first) and one was
actually finished for that Purpose; but there not being Time for the other, from
the Demand for the new Impression; and the Engraving Part of that which was done
(tho' no Expense was spared) having fallen very short of the Spirit of the
Passages they were intended to represent, the Proprietors were advised to lay
them aside. And were the rather induced to do so, from the following Observation
of a most ingenious Gentleman, in a Letter to the Editor. »I am so jealous, says
he, in Behalf of our inward Idea of PAMELA'S Person, that I dread any figur'd
Pretence to Resemblance. For it will be pity to look at an Air, and imagine it
Hers, that does not carry some such elegant Perfection of Amiableness, as will
be sure to find place in the Fancy.«
 

  Verses, sent to the Bookseller, for the Unknown Author of the beautiful new
                              Piece call'd Pamela.

blessed be thy pow'rful Pen, whoe'er thou art,
Thou skill'd, great Moulder of the master'd Heart!
Where hast thou lain conceal'd! - or why thought fit,
At this dire Period, to unveil thy Wit?
O! late befriended Isle! had this broad Blaze,
With earlier Beamings, bless'd our Fathers Days,
The Pilot Radiance, pointing out the Source,
Whence public Health derives its vital Course,
Each timely Draught some healing Power had shown,
Ere gen'ral Gangrene blacken'd, to the Bone.
But, fest'ring now, beyond all Sense of Pain,
'Tis hopeless: and the Helper's Hand is vain.
Sweet Pamela! forever-blooming Maid!
Thou dear, unliving, yet immortal, Shade!
Why are thy Virtues scatter'd to the Wind?
Why are thy Beauties flash'd upon the Blind?
What, tho' thy flutt'ring Sex might learn, from thee,
That Merit forms a Rank, above Degree?
That Pride, too conscious, falls, from ev'ry Claim,
While humble Sweetness climbs, beyond its Aim?
What, tho' Religion, smiling from thy Eyes,
Shews her plain Power, and charms without Disguise?
What, tho' thy warmly-pleasing moral Scheme
Gives livelier Rapture, than the Loose can dream?
What, tho' thou build'st, by thy persuasive Life,
Maid, Child, Friend, Mistress, Mother, Neighbour, Wife?
Tho' Taste like thine each Void of Time, can fill,
Unsunk by Spleen, unquicken'd by Quadrille!
What, tho' 'tis thine to bless the lengthen'd Hour!
Give Permanence to Joy, and Use to Pow'r?
Lend late-felt Blushes to the Vain and Smart?
And squeeze cramp'd Pity from the Miser's Heart?
What, tho' 'tis thine to hush the Marriage Breeze,
Teach Liberty to tire, and Chains to please?
Thine tho', from Stiffness to divest Restraint,
And, to the Charmer, reconcile the Saint?
Tho' Smiles and Tears obey thy moving Skill,
And Passion's ruffled Empire waits thy Will?
Tho' thine the fancy'd Fields of flow'ry Wit,
Thine, Art's whole Pow'r, in Nature's Language writ!
Thine, to convey strong Thought, with modest Ease,
And, copying Converse, teach its Style to please?
Tho' thine each Virtue, that a God cou'd lend?
Thine, ev'ry Help, that ev'ry Heart, can mend?
'Tis Thine in vain! -- Thou wak'st a dying Land:
And lift'st departed Hope, with fruitless Hand:
Death has NO CURE. Thou hast mis-tim'd thy Aim;
Rome had her GOTHS: and all, beyond, was Shame.
 

                                   Letter I.

                     In a Series of Familiar Letters, etc.

Dear Father and Mother,
    I have great Trouble, and some Comfort, to acquaint you with. The Trouble
is, that my good Lady died of the Illness I mention'd to you, and left us all
much grieve'd for her Loss; for she was a dear good Lady, and kind to all us her
Servants. Much I fear'd, that as I was taken by her Goodness to wait upon her
Person, I should be quite destitute again, and force'd to return to you and my
poor Mother, who have so much to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my Lady's
Goodness had put me to write and cast Accompts, and made me a little expert at
my Needle, and other Qualifications above my Degree, it would have been no easy
Matter to find a Place that your poor Pamela was fit for: But God, whose
Graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd at a Pinch, put it into my good
Lady's Heart, on her Death-bed, just an Hour before she expir'd, to recommend to
my young Master all her Servants, one by one; and when it came to my Turn to be
recommended, for I was sobbing and crying at her Pillow, she could only say, My
dear Son! - and so broke off a little, and then recovering - Remember my poor
Pamela! - And these were some of her last Words! O how my Eyes run! - Don't
wonder to see the Paper so blotted!
    Well, but God's Will must be done! - and so comes the Comfort, that I shall
not be oblige'd to return back to be a Clog upon my dear Parents! For my Master
said, I will take care of you all, my Lasses; and for you, Pamela, (and took me
by the Hand; yes, he took me by the Hand before them all) for my dear Mother's
sake, I will be a Friend to you, and you shall take care of my Linen. God bless
him! and pray with me, my dear Father and Mother, for God to bless him: For he
has given Mourning and a Year's Wages to all my Lady's Servants; and I having no
Wages as yet, but what my Lady said she would do for me as I deserve'd, order'd
the House-keeper to give me Mourning with the rest, and gave me with his own
Hand Four golden Guineas, besides lesser Money, which were in my old Lady's
Pocket when she dy'd; and said, If I was a good Girl, and faithful and diligent,
he would be a Friend to me, for his Mother's sake. And so I send you these four
Guineas for your Comfort; for God will not let me want: And so you may pay some
old Debt with Part; and keep the other Part to comfort you both. If I get more,
I am sure it is my Duty, and it shall be my Care to love and cherish you both;
for you have love'd me and cherish'd me, when I could do nothing for myself: And
so you have for us all, or what must have become of us! I send it by John our
Footman, who goes your way; but he does not know what he carries; because I seal
it up in one of the little Pill-boxes which my Lady had, wrapt close in Paper,
that it mayn't chink; and be sure don't open it before him.
    I know, dear Father and Mother, I must give you both Grief and Pleasure; and
so I will only say, Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be,
                                                     Your most dutiful Daughter.
 
I have been scared out of my Senses; for just now, as I was folding this Letter,
in my late Lady's Dressing-room, in comes my young Master! Good Sirs! how was I
frightened! I went to hide the Letter in my Bosom, and he seeing me frighted,
said, smiling, Who have you been writing to, Pamela? - I said, in my Fright,
Pray your Honour forgive me! - Only to my Father and Mother. He said, Well then,
Let me see how you are come on in your Writing! O how I was sham'd! - He, in my
Fright, took it, without saying more, and read it quite thro', and then gave it
me again; - and I said, Pray your Honour forgive me; - yet I know not for what.
For he was always dutiful to his Parents; and why should he be angry, that I was
so to mine! And indeed he was not angry; for he took me by the Hand, and said,
You are a good Girl, Pamela, to be kind to your aged Father and Mother. I am not
angry with you. Be faithful, and diligent; and do as you should do, and I like
you the better for this. And then he said, Why, Pamela, you write a very pretty
Hand, and spell tolerably too. I see my good Mother's Care in your Learning has
not been thrown away upon you. My Mother used to say, you love'd reading; you may
look into any of her Books to improve yourself, so you take care of them. To be
sure I did nothing but curchee and cry, and was all in Confusion, at his
Goodness. Indeed he is the best of Gentlemen, I think! But I am making another
long Letter. So will only say more, I shall ever be,
Your dutiful Daughter,
                                                                 PAMELA ANDREWS.
 

                                   Letter II.

                          In Answer to the preceding.

Dear Pamela,
    Your letter was indeed a great Trouble and some Comfort to me, and your poor
Mother. We are troubled, to be sure, for your good Lady's Death, who took such
care of you, and gave you Learning, and for Three Years past has always been
giving you clothes and Linen, and every thing that a Gentlewoman need not be
asham'd to appear in. But our chief Trouble is, and indeed a very great one, for
fear you should be brought to any thing dishonest or wicked, by being set so
above yourself. Every body talks how you have come on, and what a genteel Girl
you are, and some say, you are very pretty; and indeed, Six Months since, when I
saw you last, I should have thought so too, if you was not our Child. But what
avails all this, if you are to be ruin'd and undone! - Indeed, my dear Child, we
begin to be in great Fear for you; for what signifies all the Riches in the
World with a bad Conscience, and to be disonest? We are, 'tis true, very poor,
and find it hard enough to live; tho' once, as you know, it was better with us.
But we would sooner live upon the Water and Clay of the Ditches I am force'd to
dig, than to live better at the Price of our dear Child's Ruin.
    I hope the good 'Squire has no Design; but when he has given you so much
Money, and speaks so kindly to you, and praises your coming on; and Oh! that
fatal Word, that he would be kind to you, if you would do as you should do,
almost kills us with Fears.
    I have spoken to good old Widow Mumford about it, who, you know, has
formerly lived in good Families, and she puts us in some Comfort; for she says,
it is not unusual, when a Lady dies, to give what she has about her to her
Waiting-maid, and to such as sit up with her in her Illness. But then, why
should he smile so kindly upon you? Why should he take such a poor Girl as you
by the Hand, as your Letter says he has done twice? Why should he stoop to read
your Letter to us; and commend your Writing and Spelling? And, why should he
give you Leave to read his Mother's Books! - Indeed, indeed, my dearest Child,
our Hearts ake for you; and then you seem so full of Joy at his Goodness, so
taken with his kind Expressions, which truly are very great Favours, if he means
well, that we fear - Yes, my dear Child, we fear - you should be too grateful, -
and reward him with that Jewel, your Virtue, which no Riches, nor Favour, nor
any thing in this Life, can make up to you.
    I, too, have written a long Letter; but will say one Thing more; and that
is, That in the Midst of our Poverty and Misfortunes, we have trusted in God's
Goodness, and been honest, and doubt not to be happy hereafter, if we continue
to be good, tho' our Lot is hard here; but the Loss of our dear Child's Virtue,
would be a Grief that we could not bear, and would bring our grey Hairs to the
Grave at once.
    If you love us then, if you value God's Blessing, and your own future
Happiness, we both charge you to stand upon your Guard; and, if you find the
least Attempt made upon your Virtue, be sure you leave every thing behind you,
and come away to us; for we had rather see you all cover'd with Rags, and even
follow you to the Church-yard, than have it said, a Child of ours preferr'd
worldly Conveniencies to her Virtue.
    We accept kindly of your dutiful Present; but 'till we are out of our Pain,
cannot make use of it, for fear we should partake of the Price of our poor
Daughter's Shame: So have laid it up in a Rag among the Thatch, over the Window,
for a while, lest we should be robb'd. With our Blessings and our hearty Prayers
for you, we remain,
Your careful, but loving Father and Mother,
                                                     JOHN and ELIZABETH ANDREWS.
 

                                  Letter III.

Dear Father,
    I must needs say, that your Letter has fill'd me with much Trouble. For it
has made my Heart, which was overflowing with Gratitude for my young Master's
Goodness, suspicious and fearful; and yet, I hope I never shall find him to act
unworthy of his Character; for what could he get by ruining such a poor young
Creature as me? But that which gives me most Trouble is, that you seem to
mistrust the Honesty of your Child. No, my dear Father and Mother, be assure'd,
that, by God's Grace, I never will do any thing that shall bring your grey Hairs
with Sorrow to the Grave. I will die a thousand Deaths, rather than be dishonest
any way. Of that be assure'd, and set your Hearts at rest; for altho' I have
liv'd above myself for some Time past, yet I can be content with Rags and
Poverty, and Bread and Water, and will embrace them rather than forfeit my good
Name, let who will be the Tempter. And of this rest satisfy'd, and think better
of
                                               Your dutiful Daughter till Death.
 
My Master continues to be very affable to me. As yet I see no Cause to fear any
thing. Mrs. Jervis the House-keeper too is very civil to me, and I have the Love
of every body. Sure they can't all have Designs against me because they are
civil. I hope I shall always behave so as to be respected by every one; and hope
nobody would do me more hurt, than I am sure I would do them. Our John so often
goes your way, that I will always get him to call that you may hear from me,
either by Writing, for it brings my Hand in, or by Word of Mouth.
 

                                   Letter IV.

Dear Mother,
    For the last Letter was to my Father, in Answer to his Letter; and so I will
now write to you; tho' I have nothing to say but what will make me look more
like a vain Hussy, than any thing else: Yet I hope I shan't be so proud as to
forget myself. Yet there is a secret Pleasure one has to hear one's self
prais'd. You must know then, that my Lady Davers, who, you know, is my Master's
Sister, has been a whole Month at our House, and has taken great Notice of me,
and given me good Advice to keep myself to myself; she told me I was a very
pretty Wench, and that every body gave me a very good Character, and love'd me;
and bid me take care to keep the Fellows at a Distance; and said, that I might
do, and be more valu'd for it, even by themselves. But what pleas'd me much,
was, that at Table, as Mrs. Jervis was telling me, my Master and her Ladyship
were talking of me, and she told him, she thought me the prettiest Wench she
ever saw in her Life; and that I was too pretty to live in a Batchelor's House;
and that no Lady he might marry, would care to continue me with her. He said, I
was vastly improv'd, and had a good Share of Prudence, and Sense above my Years;
and it would be Pity, that what was my Merit, should be my Misfortune. - No,
says my good Lady, Pamela shall come and live with me, I think. He said, With
all his Heart, he should be glad to have me so well provided for. Well, said
she, I'll consult my Lord about it. She ask'd how old I was; and Mrs. Jervis
said, I was Fifteen last February. O! says she, if the Wench (for so she calls
all us Maiden Servants) takes care of herself, she'll improve yet more and more,
as well in her Person as Mind.
    Now, my dear Father and Mother, tho' this may look too vain to be repeated
by me, yet are you not rejoic'd as well as I, to see my Master so willing to
part with me? - This shows that he has nothing bad in his Heart. But John is
just going away, and so I have only to say, that I am, and will always be,
                                       Your honest, as well as dutiful Daughter.
 
Pray make use of the Money; you may now do it safely.
 

                                   Letter V.

My dear Father and Mother,
    John being going your way, I am willing to write, because he is so willing
to carry any thing for me. He says it does him good at his Heart to see you
both, and to hear you talk. He says you are both so good, and so honest, that he
always learns something from you to the Purpose. It is a thousand Pities, he
says, that such honest Hearts should not have better Luck in the World. But this
is more Pride to me, that I am come of such honest Parents, than if I had been
born a Lady.
    I hear nothing yet of going to Lady Davers. And I am very easy at present
here. For Mrs. Jervis uses me as if I were her own Daughter, and is a very good
Woman, and makes my Master's Interest her own. She is always giving me good
Counsel, and I love her, next to you two, I think, best of any body. She keeps
so good Rule and Order, she is mightily respected by us all; and takes Delight
to hear me read to her; and all she loves to hear read, is good Books, which we
read whenever we are alone; so that I think I am at home with you. She heard one
of our Men, Harry, who is no better than he should be, speak freely to me; I
think he call'd me his pretty Pamela, and took hold of me, as if he would have
kiss'd me; for which you may be sure I was very angry; and she took him to Task,
and was as angry at him as could be, and told me she was very well pleas'd to
see my Prudence and Modesty, and that I kept all the Fellows at a Distance. And
indeed I am sure I am not proud, and carry it civil to every body; but yet,
methinks I can't bear to be look'd upon by these Men-servants; for they seem as
if they would look one thro'; and, as I almost always breakfast, dine, and sup
with Mrs. Jervis, so good she is to me, so I am very easy that I have so little
to say to them. Not but they are very civil to me in the main, for Mrs. Jervis's
sake, who they see loves me; and they stand in Awe of her, knowing her to be a
Gentlewoman born, tho' she has had Misfortunes. I am going on again with a long
Letter; for I love Writing, and shall tire you. But when I began, I only
intended to say, that I am quite fearless of any Danger now: And indeed can but
wonder at myself, (tho' your Caution to me was your watchful Love) that I should
be so foolish as to be so uneasy as I have been: For I am sure my Master would
not demean himself so, as to think upon such a poor Girl as I, for my Harm. For
such a Thing would ruin his Credit as well as mine, you know: For, to be sure,
he may expect one of the best Ladies in the Land. So no more at present; but
that I am
                                                     Your ever dutiful Daughter.
 

                                   Letter VI.

Dear Father and Mother,
    My Master has been very kind since my last; for he has given me a Suit of my
old Lady's clothes, and half a Dozen of her Shifts, and Six fine Handkerchiefs,
and Three of her Cambrick Aprons, and Four Holland ones: The clothes are fine
Silks, and too rich and too good for me, to be sure. I wish it was no Affront to
him to make Money of them, and send it to you: it would do me more good.
    You will be full of Fears, I warrant now, of some Design upon me, till I
tell you, that he was with Mrs. Jervis when he gave them me; and he gave her a
Mort of good Things at the same Time, and bid her wear them in Remembrance of
her good Friend, my Lady, his Mother. And when he gave me these fine Things, he
said, These, Pamela, are for you; have them made fit for you, when your Mourning
is laid by, and wear 'em for your good Mistress's sake. Mrs. Jervis gives you a
very good Word; and I would have you continue to behave as prudently as you have
done hitherto, and every body will be your Friend.
    I was so surprised at his Goodness, that I could not tell what to say. I
curcheed to him, and to Mrs. Jervis for her good Word; and said, I wish'd I
might be deserving of his Favour, and her Kindness: And nothing should be
wanting in me, to the best of my Knowledge.
    O how amiable a Thing is doing good! - It is all I envy great Folks for!
    I always thought my young Master a fine Gentleman, as every body says he is:
But he gave these good Things to us both with such a Graciousness, as I thought
he look'd like an Angel.
    Mrs. Jervis says, he ask'd her, If I kept the Men at a Distance; for he
said, I was very pretty, and to be drawn in to have any of them, might be my
Ruin, and make me poor and miserable betimes. She never is wanting to give me a
good Word, and took Occasion to launch out in my Praise, she says. But I hope
she said no more than I shall try to deserve, tho' I mayn't at present. I am
sure I will always love her next to you and my dear Mother. So I rest,
                                                     Your ever dutiful Daughter.
 

                                  Letter VII.

Dear Father,
    Since my last, my Master gave me more fine Things. He call'd me up to my old
Lady's Closet, and pulling out her Drawers, he gave me Two Suits of fine
Flanders lac'd Headcloths, Three Pair of fine Silk Shoes, two hardly the worse,
and just fit for me; for my old Lady had a very little Foot; and several
Ribbands and Topknots of all Colours, and Four Pair of fine white Cotton
Stockens, and Three Pair of fine Silk ones; and Two Pair of rich Stays, and a
Pair of rich Silver Buckles in one Pair of the Shoes. I was quite astonish'd,
and unable to speak for a while; but yet I was inwardly asham'd to take the
Stockens; for Mrs. Jervis was not there: If she had, it would have been nothing.
I believe I receive'd them very awkwardly; for he smile'd at my Awkwardness; and
said, Don't blush, Pamela: Dost think I don't know pretty Maids wear Shoes and
Stockens?
    I was so confounded at these Words, you might have beat me down with a
Feather. For, you must think, there was no Answer to be made to this: So, like a
Fool, I was ready to cry; and went away curcheeing and blushing, I am sure, up
to the Ears; for, tho' there was no Harm in what he said, yet I did not know how
to take it. But I went and told all to Mrs. Jervis, who said, God put it into
his Heart to be good to me; and I must double my Diligence. It look'd to her,
she said, as if he would fit me in Dress for a Waiting-maid's Place on his
Sister Lady Davers's own Person.
    But still your kind fatherly Cautions came into my Head, and made all these
Gifts nothing near to me what they would have been. But yet I hope there is no
Reason; for what Good could it do him to harm such a simple Maiden as me?
Besides, to be sure, no Lady would look upon him, if he should so disgrace
himself. So I will make myself easy; and indeed, I should never have been
otherwise, if you had not put it into my Head; for my Good, I know very well.
But, may be, without these Uneasinesses to mingle with these Benefits, I might
be too much puff'd up: So I will conclude, All that happens is for our Good; and
so God bless you, my dear Father and Mother; and I know you will pray to God to
bless me; who am, and shall always be,
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 

                                  Letter VIII.

Dear Pamela,
    I cannot but renew my Cautions to you on your Master's Kindness to you, and
his free Expression to you about the Stockens. Yet there may not be, and I hope
there is not, any thing in it. But when I reflect, that there possibly may, and
that if there should, no less depends upon it than my Child's everlasting
Happiness in this World and the next; it is enough to make one fearful of the
worst. Arm yourself, my dear Child, for the worst; and resolve to lose your Life
sooner than your Virtue. What tho' the Doubts I fill'd you with, lessen the
Pleasure you would have had in your Master's Kindness, yet what signify the
Delights that arise from a few paltry fine clothes, in Comparison with a good
Conscience?
    These are indeed very great Favours that he heaps upon you, but so much the
more to be suspected; and when you say he look'd so amiable, and like an Angel,
how afraid I am, that they should make too great an Impression upon you! For,
tho' God has bless'd you with Sense and Prudence above your Years, yet, I
tremble to think what a sad Hazard a poor Maiden of no more than Fifteen Years
of Age stands against the Temptations of this World, and a designing young
Gentleman, if he should prove so, who has so much Power to oblige, and has a
kind of Authority to command as your Master.
    I charge you, my dear Child, on both our Blessings, poor as we are, to be on
your Guard; there can be no Harm in that: and since Mrs. Jervis is so good a
Gentlewoman, and so kind to you, I am the easier a great deal, and so is your
Mother; and we hope you will hide nothing from her, and take her Counsel in
every thing. So with our Blessings and assured Prayers for you, more than for
ourselves, we remain
                                                  Your loving Father and Mother.
 
Besure don't let People's telling you you are pretty, puff you up: for you did
not make yourself, and so can have no Praise due to you for it. It is Virtue and
Goodness only, that make the true Beauty. Remember that, Pamela.
 

                                   Letter IX.

Dear Father and Mother,
    I Am sorry to write you word, that the Hopes I had of going to wait on Lady
Davers are quite over. My Lady would have had me; but my Master, as I hear by
the bye, would not consent to it. He said, Her Nephew might be taken with me,
and I might draw him in, or be drawn in by him; and he thought, as his Mother
love'd me, and committed me to his Care, he ought to continue me with him; and
Mrs. Jervis would be a Mother to me. Mrs. Jervis tells me, the Lady shook her
Head, and said, Ah! Brother! and that was all. And as you have made me fearful
by your Cautions, my Heart at times misgives me. But I say nothing yet of your
Caution, or my own Uneasiness, to Mrs. Jervis; not that I mistrust her, but for
fear she should think me presumptuous, and vain, and conceited, to have any
Fears about the matter, from the great Distance between so great a Man, and so
poor a Girl. But yet Mrs. Jervis seem'd to build something upon Lady Davers'
shaking her Head, and saying, Ah! Brother, and no more! God, I hope, will give
me his Grace; and so I will not, if I can help it, make myself too uneasy; for I
hope there is no Occasion. But every little matter that happens, I will acquaint
you with, that you shall continue to me your good Advice, and pray for
                                                        Your sad-hearted PAMELA.
 

                                   Letter X.

Dear Mother,
    You and my good Father may wonder that you have not had a Letter from me in
so many Weeks; but a sad, sad Scene has been the Occasion of it. For, to be
sure, now it is too plain, that all your Cautions were well-grounded. O my dear
Mother! I am miserable, truly miserable! - But yet, don't be frighted, I am
honest! - God, of his Goodness, keep me so!
    O this Angel of a Master! this fine Gentleman! this gracious Benefactor to
your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the Prayer of his good dying
Mother; who was so careful of me, lest I should be drawn in by Lord Davers's
Nephew; that he would not let me go to Lady Davers's: This very Gentleman (yes,
I must call him Gentleman, tho' he has fallen from the Merit of that Title) has
degraded himself to offer Freedoms to his poor Servant! He has now show'd
himself in his true Colours, and to me, nothing appears so black and so
frightful.
    I have not been idle; but have writ from time to time how he, by sly mean
Degrees, exposed his wicked Views: But somebody stole my Letter, and I know not
what is become of it. It was a very long one. I fear he that was mean enough to
do bad things, in one respect, did not stick at this; but be it as it will, all
the Use he can make of it will be, that he may be asham'd of his Part; I not of
mine. For he will see I was resolve'd to be honest, and glory'd in the Honesty of
my poor Parents. I will tell you all, the next Opportunity; for I am watch'd,
and such-like, very narrowly; and he says to Mrs. Jervis, This Girl is always
scribbling; I think she may be better employ'd. And yet I work all Hours with my
Needle, upon his Linen, and the fine Linen of the Family; and am besides about
flowering him a Waistcoat. - But, Oh! my Heart's broke almost; for what am I
likely to have for my Reward, but Shame and Disgrace, or else ill Words, and
hard Treatment! I'll tell you all soon, and hope I shall find my long Letter.
                                                   Your most afflicted Daughter.
 
I must he and him him now; for he has lost his Dignity with me!
 

                                   Letter XI.

Dear Mother,
    Well, I can't find my Letter, and so I'll tell you all, as briefly as I can.
All went well enough in the main for some time after my last Letter but one. At
last, I saw some Reason to suspect; for he would look upon me, whenever he saw
me, in such a manner, as show'd not well; and at last he came to me, as I was in
the Summer-house in the little Garden, at work with my Needle, and Mrs. Jervis
was just gone from me; and I would have gone out; but he said, No, don't go,
Pamela; I have something to say to you; and you always fly me so, whenever I
come near you, as if you was afraid of me.
    I was all confounded; and said at last; It does not become your poor Servant
to stay in your Presence, Sir, without your Business require'd it; and I hope I
shall always know my Place.
    Well, says he, my Business does require it sometimes, and I have a mind you
should stay to hear what I have to say to you.
    I stood all confounded, and began to tremble, and the more when he took me
by the Hand; for now no Soul was near us.
    My Sister Davers, said he, (and seem'd, I thought, to be as much at a Loss
for Words as I) would have had you live with her; but she would not do for you
what I am resolve'd to do, if you continue faithful and obliging. What say'st
thou, my Girl, said he, with some Eagerness, hadst thou not rather stay with me
than go to my Sister Davers? He look'd so, as fill'd me with Affrightment; I
don't know how; wildly I thought.
    I said, when I could speak, Your Honour will forgive your poor Servant; but
as you have no Lady for me to wait upon, and my good Lady has been now dead this
Twelve-month, I had rather, if it would not displease you, wait upon Lady
Davers, because -
    I was proceeding; and he said a little hastily - Because you're a little
Fool, and know not what's good for yourself. I tell you, I will make a
Gentlewoman of you, if you be obliging, and don't stand in your own Light; and
so saying, he put his Arm about me, and kiss'd me!
    Now you will say, all his Wickedness appear'd plainly. I struggled, and
trembled, and was so benumb'd with Terror, that I sunk down, not in a Fit, and
yet not myself; and I found myself in his Arms, quite void of Strength, and he
kissed me two or three times, as if he would have eaten me. - At last I burst
from him, and was getting out of the Summer-house; but he held me back, and shut
the Door.
    I would have given my Life for a Farthing. And he said, I'll do you no Harm,
Pamela; don't be afraid of me. I said, I won't stay! You won't, Hussy, said he!
Do you know who you speak to! I lost all Fear, and all Respect, and said, Yes, I
do, Sir, too well! - Well may I forget that I am your Servant, when you forget
what belongs to a Master.
    I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. What a foolish Hussy you are, said he, have I
done you any Harm? - Yes, Sir, said I, the greatest Harm in the World: You have
taught me to forget myself, and what belongs to me, and have lessen'd the
Distance that Fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself, to be so free
to a poor Servant. Yet, Sir, said I, I will be so bold to say, I am honest, tho'
poor; And if you was a Prince, I would not be otherwise.
    He was angry, and said, Who would have you otherwise, you foolish Slut!
Cease your blubbering! I own I have demean'd myself; but it was only to try you:
If you can keep this Matter secret, you'll give me the better Opinion of your
Prudence; and here's something, said he, putting some Gold in my Hand, to make
you Amends for the Fright I put you to. Go, take a Walk in the Garden, and don't
go in till your blubbering is over: And I charge you say nothing of what has
past, and all shall be well, and I'll forgive you.
    I won't take the Money, indeed, Sir, said I; poor as I am! I won't take it:
for to say Truth, I thought it look'd like taking Earnest; and so I put it upon
the Bench; and as he seem'd vex'd and confuse'd at what he had done, I took the
Opportunity to open the Door, and went out of the Summer-house.
    He called to me, and said, Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't go in
yet, as I told you.
    O how poor and mean must these Actions be, and how little must they make the
best of Gentlemen look, when they offer such things as are unworthy of
themselves, and put it into the Power of their Inferiors to be greater than
they!
    I took a Turn or two in the Garden, but in Sight of the House for fear of
the worst, and breathed upon my Hand to dry my Eyes, because I would not be too
disobedient. My next shall tell you more.
    Pray for me, my dear Father and Mother; and don't be angry I have not yet
run away from this House, so late my Comfort and Delight, but now my Anguish and
Terror. I am force'd to break off, hastily,
                                               Your dutiful and honest Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XII.

Dear Mother,
    Well, I will now proceed with my sad Story. And so after I had dry'd my
Eyes, I went in, and begun to ruminate with myself what I had best to do.
Sometimes I thought I would leave the House, and go to the next Town, and wait
an Opportunity to get to you; but then I was at a Loss to resolve whether to
take away the Things he had given me or no, and how to take them away: Sometimes
I thought to leave them behind me, and only go with the clothes on my Back; but
then I had two Miles and a half, and a By-way, to go to the Town; and being
pretty well dress'd, I might come to some harm, almost as bad as what I would
run away from; and then may-be, thought I, it will be reported, I have stolen
something, and so was force'd to run away; and to carry a bad Name back with me
to my dear poor Parents, would be a sad thing indeed! - O how I wish'd for my
grey Russet again, and my poor honest Dress, with which you fitted me out, and
hard enough too you had to do it, God knows, for going to this Place, when I was
but twelve Years old, in my good Lady's Days! Sometimes I thought of telling
Mrs. Jervis, and taking her Advice, and only feared his Command, to be secret;
for, thought I, he may be ashamed of his Actions, and never attempt the like
again: And as poor Mrs. Jervis depended upon him, thro' Misfortunes that had
attended her, I thought it would be a sad thing to bring his Displeasure upon
her for my sake.
    In this Quandary, now considering, now crying, and not knowing what to do, I
pass'd the Time in my Chamber till Evening; when desiring to be excused going to
Supper, Mrs. Jervis came up to me; and said, Why must I sup without you, Pamela?
Come, I see you are troubled at something; tell me what is the Matter.
    I begg'd I might be permitted to lie with her on Nights; for I was afraid of
Spirits, and they would not hurt such a good Person as she. That was a silly
Excuse, she said; for why was you not afraid of Spirits before? Indeed I did not
think of that. But you shall be my Bedfellow with all my Heart, said she, let
your Reason be what it will; only come down to Supper. I begg'd to be excuse'd;
for, said I, I have been crying so, that it will be taken Notice of by my
Fellow-servants; and I will hide nothing from you, Mrs. Jervis, when we are
a-bed.
    She was so good to indulge me, and went down to Supper; but made more haste
to come up to-bed; and told the Servants, that I should lie with her, because
she said she could not rest well, and she would get me to read her to sleep,
because she knew I love'd reading, as she said.
    When we were alone, I told her every bit and crumb of the Matter; for I
thought, tho' he had bid me not, yet if he should come to know I had told, it
would be no worse; for to keep a Secret of such a Nature, I thought would be to
deprive myself of the good Advice which I never wanted more; and might encourage
him to think I did not resent it as I ought, and would keep worse Secrets, and
so make him do worse by me. Was I right, my dear Mother?
    Mrs. Jervis could not help mingling Tears with my Tears; for I cry'd all the
Time I told her the Story; and begg'd her to advise me what to do; and I show'd
her my dear Father's two Letters, and she praised the Honesty and Inditing of
them; and said pleasing things to me of you both. But she begg'd I would not
think of leaving my Service; for, says she, in all Likelihood, you behave'd so
virtuously, that he will be asham'd of what he has done, and never offer the
like to you again: Tho', my dear Pamela, said she, I fear more for your
Prettiness than for any thing else; because the best Man in the Land might love
you; so she was pleased to say. She said she wished it was in her Power to live
independent; that then she would take a little private House, and I should live
with her like her Daughter.
    And so, as you order'd me to take her Advice, I resolved to tarry to see how
things went, without he was to turn me away; altho', in your first Letter, you
order'd me to come away the Moment I had any Reason to be apprehensive. So, dear
Father and Mother, it is not Disobedience, I hope, that I stay; for I could not
expect a Blessing, or the good Fruits of your Prayers for me, if I was
disobedient.
    All the next Day I was very sad, and began to write my long Letter. He saw
me writing, and said (as I mention'd) to Mrs. Jervis, That Girl is always
scribbling; methinks she might find something else to do, or to that purpose.
And when I had finish'd my Letter, I put it under the Toilet, in my late Lady's
Dressing-room, where nobody comes but myself and Mrs. Jervis, besides my Master;
but when I came up again to seal it up, to my great Concern it was gone; and
Mrs. Jervis knew nothing of it; and nobody knew of my Master's having been near
the Place in the time; so I have been sadly troubled about it: But Mrs. Jervis,
as well as I, thinks he has it some how or other; and he appears cross and
angry, and seems to shun me, as much as he said I did him. It had better be so
than worse!
    But he has order'd Mrs. Jervis to bid me not spend so much time in writing;
which is a poor Matter for such a Gentleman as he to take notice of, as I am not
idle otherways, if he did not resent what he thought I wrote upon. And this has
no very good Look.
    But I am a good deal easier since I lie with Mrs. Jervis; tho' after all,
the Fears I live in on one side, and his Frowning and Displeasure at what I do
on the other, makes me more miserable than enough.
    O that I had never left my Rags nor my Poverty, to be thus expos'd to
Temptations on one hand, or Disgusts on the other! How happy was I a-while ago!
How miserable now! - Pity and pray for
                                                          Your afflicted PAMELA.
 

                                  Letter XIII.

My dearest Child,
    Our Hearts bleed for your Distress and the Temptations you are tried with.
You have our hourly Prayers; and we would have you flee this evil Great House
and Man, if you find he renews his Attempts. You ought to have done it at first,
had you not had Mrs. Jervis to advise with. We can find no Fault in your Conduct
hitherto: But it makes our Hearts ake for fear of the worst. O my Child!
Temptations are sore things; but yet without them, we know not our selves, nor
what we are able to do.
    Your Temptations are very great; for you have Riches, Youth, and a fine
Gentleman, as the World reckons him, to withstand; but how great will be your
Honour to withstand them! And when we consider your past Conduct, and your
virtuous Education, and that you have been bred to be more asham'd of Dishonesty
than Poverty, we trust in God that he will enable you to overcome. Yet, as we
can't see but your Life must be a Burden to you, through the great Apprehensions
always upon you; and that it may be presumptuous to trust too much to your own
Strength; and that you are but very young; and the Devil may put it into his
Head to use some Stratagem, of which great Men are full, to decoy you; I think
you had best come home to share our Poverty with Safety, than to live with so
much Discontent in a Plenty, that itself may be dangerous. God direct you for
the best. While you have Mrs. Jervis for an Adviser, and Bedfellow, (and, O my
dear Child, that was prudently done of you) we are easier than we should be; and
so committing you to God's blessed Protection, remain
Your truly loving,
                                                 but careful, Father and Mother.
 

                                  Letter XIV.

Dear Father and Mother,
    Mrs. Jervis and I have liv'd very comfortably together for this Fortnight
past; for my Master was all that time at his Lincolnshire Estate, and at his
Sister's the Lady Davers. But he came home Yesterday. He had some Talk with Mrs.
Jervis soon after he came home; and mostly about me. He said to her, it seems,
Well, Mrs. Jervis, I know Pamela has your good Word; but do you think her of any
Use in the Family? She told me, she was surpris'd at the Question; but said,
That I was one of the most virtuous and industrious young Creatures that ever
she knew. Why that Word virtuous, said he, I pray you? Was there any Reason to
suppose her otherwise? Or has any body taken it into their Heads to try her? - I
wonder, Sir, says she, you ask me such a Question! Who dare offer any thing to
her in such an orderly and well-govern'd House as yours, and under a Master of
so good a Character for Virtue and Honour? Your Servant, Mrs. Jervis, says he,
for your good Opinion; but pray, if any body did, do you think Pamela would let
you know it? Why, Sir, said she; she is a poor innocent young Thing, and I
believe has so much Confidence in me, that she would take my Advice as soon as
she would her Mother's. Innocent! again; and virtuous, I warrant! Well, Mrs.
Jervis, you abound with your Epithets; but 'tis my Opinion, she is an artful
young Baggage; and had I a young handsome Butler or Steward, she'd soon make her
Market of one of them, if she thought it worth while to snap at him for a
Husband. Alack-a-day, Sir, said she, 'tis early Days with Pamela, and she does
not yet think of a Husband, I dare say: And your Steward and Butler are both Men
in Years, and think nothing of the Matter. No, said he, if they were younger,
they'd have more Wit than to think of such a Girl. I'll tell you my Mind of her,
Mrs. Jervis, I don't think this same Favourite of yours so very artless a Girl,
as you imagine. I am not to dispute with your Honour about her, said Mrs.
Jervis; but I dare say, if the Men will let her alone, she'll never trouble
herself about them. Why, Mrs. Jervis, said he, are there any Men that will not
let her alone that you know of? No, indeed, Sir, said she; she keeps herself so
much to herself, and yet behaves so prudently, that they all esteem her, and
show her as great Respect as if she was a Gentlewoman born.
    Ay, says he, that's her Art, that I was speaking of: But let me tell you,
the Girl has Vanity and Conceit, and Pride too, or I am mistaken; and I could
give you perhaps an Instance of it. Sir, said she, you can see further than such
a poor silly Woman as me; but I never saw any thing but Innocence in her. - And
Virtue too, I'll warrant ye, said he. But suppose I could give you an Instance,
where she has talk'd a little too freely of the Kindnesses that have been show'd
her from a certain Quarter; and has had the Vanity to impute a few kind Words
utter'd in mere Compassion to her Youth and Circumstances, into a Design upon
her, and even dar'd to make free with Names that she ought never to mention but
with Reverence and Gratitude; what would you say to that? - Say, Sir! said she,
I cannot tell what to say. But I hope Pamela incapable of such Ingratitude.
    Well, no more of this silly Girl, says he; you may only advise her, as you
are her Friend, not to give herself too much Licence upon the Favours she meets
with; and if she stays here, that she will not write the Affairs of my Family
purely for an Exercise to her Pen and her Invention. I tell you, she is a subtle
artful Gypsey, and time will show it you.
    Was ever the like heard, my dear Father and Mother? It is plain he did not
expect to meet with such a Repulse, and mistrusts that I have told Mrs. Jervis,
and has my long Letter too that I intended for you; and so is vex'd to the
Heart. But, however, I can't help it. So I had better be thought artful and
subtle, than be so, in his Sense; and as light as he makes of the Words Virtue
and Innocence in me, he would have made a less angry Construction, had I less
deserved that he should do so; for then, may be, my Crime would have been my
Virtue with him; naughty Gentleman as he is! - I will soon write again; but must
now end with saying, That I am, and shall always be,
                                                           Your honest Daughter.
 

                                   Letter XV.

Dear Mother,
    I Broke off abruptly my last Letter; for I fear'd he was coming; and so it
happen'd. I thrust the Letter into my Bosom, and took up my Work, which lay by
me; but I had so little of the Artful, as he called it, that I look'd as
confused, as if I had been doing some great Harm.
    Sit still, Pamela, said he, and mind your Work, for all me. - You don't tell
me I am welcome home after my Journey to Lincolnshire. It would be hard, Sir,
said I, if you was not always welcome to your Honour's own House.
    I would have gone; but he said, Don't run away, I tell you. I have a Word or
two to say to you. Good Sirs, how my Heart went pit-a-pat! When I was a little
kind, said he, to you in the Summer-house, and you carry'd yourself so foolishly
upon it, as if I had intended to do you great harm, did I not tell you, you
should take no Notice of what pass'd, to any Creature? And yet you have made a
common Talk of the Matter, not considering either my Reputation or your own. - I
made a common Talk of it, Sir, said I! I have nobody to talk to, hardly!
    He interrupted me, and said, Hardly! you little Equivocator! what do you
mean by hardly? Let me ask you, Have you not told Mrs. Jervis for one? Pray your
Honour, said I, all in Agitation, let me go down; for 'tis not for me to hold an
Argument with your Honour. Equivocator, again! said he, and took my Hand, what
do you talk of an Argument? Is it holding an Argument with me, to answer a plain
Question? Answer me what I asked. O good, Sir, said I, let me beg you will not
urge me further, for fear I forget myself again, and be saucy.
    Answer me then, I bid you, says he, Have you told Mrs. Jervis? It will be
saucy in you, if you don't answer me directly to what I ask. Sir, said I, and
fain would have pulled my Hand away, may be I should be for answering you by
another Question, and that would not become me. What is it, says he, you would
say? Speak out!
    Then, Sir, said I, why should your Honour be so angry I should tell Mrs.
Jervis, or any body else, what passed, if you intended no harm?
    Well said, pretty Innocent and Artless! as Mrs. Jervis calls you, said he;
and is it thus you taunt and retort upon me, insolent as you are! But still I
will be answered directly to my Question? Why then, Sir, said I, I will not tell
a Lye for the World: I did tell Mrs. Jervis; for my Heart was almost broke; but
I open'd not my Mouth to any other. Very well, Boldface, said he, and
Equivocator, again! You did not open your Mouth to any other; but did you not
write to some other? Why now, and please your Honour, said I, (for I was quite
courageous just then) you could not have asked me this Question, if you had not
taken from me my Letter to my Father and Mother, in which, I own, I had broke my
Mind freely to them, and asked their Advice, and poured forth my Griefs!
    And so I am to be exposed, am I, said he, in my House, and out of my House,
to the whole World, by such a Sawcebox as you? No, good Sir, said I, and I hope
your Honour won't be angry with me; it is not me that expose you if I say
nothing but the Truth. So, taunting again! Assurance as you are, said he! I will
not be thus talk'd to.
    Pray, Sir, said I, who can a poor Girl take Advice of, if it must not be of
her Father and Mother, and such a good Woman as Mrs. Jervis, who for her
Sex-sake, should give it me when asked? Insolence! said he, and stamp'd with his
Foot, Am I to be question'd thus by such a one as you? I fell down on my Knees,
and said, For God's sake, your Honour, pity a poor distressed Creature, that
knows nothing of her Duty, but how to cherish her Virtue and good Name! I have
nothing else to trust to; and tho' poor and friendless here, yet I have always
been taught to value Honesty above my Life. Here's ado with your Honesty, said
he, foolish Girl! Is it not one Part of Honesty, to be dutiful and grateful to
your Master, do you think? Indeed, Sir, said I, it is impossible I should be
ingrateful to your Honour, or disobedient, or deserve the Names of Boldface and
Insolent, which you call me, but when your Commands are contrary to that first
Duty, which shall ever be the Principle of my Life!
    He seem'd to be moved, and rose up, and walked into the great Chamber two or
three Turns, leaving me on my Knees; and I threw my Apron over my Face, and laid
my Head on a Chair, and cry'd as if my Heart would break, having no Power to
stir.
    At last he came in again, but, alas! with Mischief in his Heart! and raising
me up, he said, Rise, Pamela, rise; you are your own Enemy. Your perverse Folly
will be your Ruin! I tell you this, that I am very much displeased with the
Freedoms you have taken with my Name to my House-keeper, as also to your Father
and Mother; and you may as well have real Cause to take these Freedoms with me,
as to make my Name suffer for imaginary ones: And saying so, he offer'd to take
me on his Knee, with some Force. O how I was terrify'd! I said, like as I had
read in a Book a Night or two before, Angels, and Saints, and all the Host of
Heaven, defend me! And may I never survive one Moment, that fatal one in which I
shall forfeit my Innocence. Pretty Fool! said he, how will you forfeit your
Innocence, if you are oblige'd to yield to a Force you cannot withstand? Be easy,
said he; for let the worst happen that can, you'll have the Merit, and I the
Blame; and it will be a good Subject for Letters to your Father and Mother, and
a Tale into the Bargain for Mrs. Jervis.
    He by Force kissed my Neck and Lips; and said, Who ever blamed Lucretia, but
the Ravisher only? and I am content to take all the Blame upon me; as I have
already borne too great a Share for what I have deserve'd. May I, said I,
Lucretia like, justify myself with my Death, if I am used barbarously? O my good
Girl! said he, tauntingly, you are well read, I see; and we shall make out
between us, before we have done, a pretty Story in Romance, I warrant ye!
    He then put his Hand in my Bosom, and the Indignation gave me double
Strength, and I got loose from him, by a sudden Spring, and ran out of the Room;
and the next Chamber being open, I made shift to get into it, and threw-to the
Door, and the Key being on the Inside, it locked; but he follow'd me so close,
he got hold of my Gown, and tore a Piece off, which hung without the Door.
    I just remember I got into the Room; for I knew nothing further of the
Matter till afterwards; for I fell into a Fit with my Fright and Terror, and
there I lay, till he, as I suppose, looking through the Keyhole, spy'd me lying
all along upon the Floor, stretch'd out at my Length; and then he call'd Mrs.
Jervis to me, who, by his Assistance, bursting open the Door, he went away,
seeing me coming to myself; and bid her say nothing of the Matter, if she was
wise.
    Poor Mrs. Jervis thought it was worse, and cry'd over me like as if she was
my Mother; and I was two Hours before I came to myself; and just as I got a
little up on my Feet, he coming in, I went away again with the Terror; and so he
withdrew again: But he staid in the next Room to let nobody come near us, that
his foul Proceedings might not be known.
    Mrs. Jervis gave me her Smelling-bottle, and had cut my Laces, and sat me in
a great Chair, and he call'd her to him: How is the Girl, said he? I never saw
such a Fool in my Life. I did nothing at all to her. Mrs. Jervis could not speak
for crying. So, he said, she has told you, it seems, that I was kind to her in
the Summer-house, tho' I'll assure you, I was quite innocent then as well as
now; and I desire you to keep this Matter to yourself, and let me not be nam'd
in it.
    O Sir, said she, for your Honour's sake, and for Christ's sake - But he
would not hear her, and said - For your own sake, I tell you, Mrs. Jervis, say
not a Word more. I have done her no harm. And I won't have her stay in my House;
prating, perverse Fool, as she is! But since she is so apt to fall into Fits, or
at least pretend to do so, prepare her to see me To-morrow after Dinner, in my
Mother's Closet, and do you be with her, and you shall hear what passes between
us.
    And so he went out in a Pet, and order'd his Chariot and Four to be got
ready, and went away a Visiting somewhere.
    Mrs. Jervis then came to me, and I told her all that had happen'd, and said
I was resolve'd not to stay in the House; and she saying, He seem'd to threaten
as much; I said, Thank God; then I shall be easy: So she told me all he had said
to her, as I have said above.
    Mrs. Jervis is very loth I should go; and yet, poor Woman! she begins to be
afraid for herself; but would not have me ruin'd for the World. She says, To be
sure he means no good; but may be, now he sees me so resolute, he will give over
all Attempts: And that I shall know what to do better after To-morrow, when I am
to appear before a very bad Judge, I doubt!
    O how I dread this To-morrow's Appearance! But be assured, my dear Parents,
of the Honesty of your poor Child! As I am sure I am of your Prayers for
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 
Oh! this frightful To-morrow! how I dread it!
 

                                  Letter XVI.

My dear Parents,
    I Know you longed to hear from me soon. I send as soon as I could.
    Well, you may believe how uneasily I passed the Time till his appointed Hour
came. Every Minute, as it grew nearer, my Terrors increased; and sometimes I had
great Courage, and sometimes none at all; and I thought I should faint when it
came to the Time my Master had dined. I could neither eat nor drink, for my
part; and do what I could, my Eyes were swell'd with crying.
    At last he went up to the Closet, which was my good Lady's Dressing-room; a
Room I once love'd, but then as much hated.
    Don't your Heart ake for me? - I am sure mine flutter'd about like a Bird in
a Cage new caught. O Pamela, said I to my self, why art thou so foolish and
fearful! Thou hast done no harm! what, if thou fearest an unjust Judge, when
thou art innocent, wouldst thou do before a just one, if thou wert guilty? Have
Courage, Pamela, thou knows the worst! And how easy a Choice Poverty and
Honesty is, rather than Plenty and Wickedness?
    So I cheer'd myself; but yet my poor Heart sunk, and my Spirits were quite
broken. Every thing that stirred, I thought was to call me to my Account. I
dreaded it, and yet I wished it to come.
    Well, at last he rung the Bell; O thought I, that it was my Passing-bell!
Mrs. Jervis went up, with a full Heart enough, poor good Woman! He said, Where's
Pamela? let her come up, and do you come with her. She came to me; I was ready
to come with my Feet, but my Heart was with my dear Father and Mother, wishing
to share your Poverty and Happiness. But I went.
    O how can wicked Men look so steddy and untouch'd, with such black Hearts,
while poor Innocents look like Malefactors before them!
    He looked so stern, that my Heart failed me, and I wish'd myself any-where
but there, tho' I had before been summoning up all my Courage. Good God of
Heaven, said I to myself, give me Courage to stand before this naughty Master! O
soften him! or harden me!
    Come in, Fool, said he, angrily, as soon as he saw me (and snatch'd my Hand
with a Pull); you may well be asham'd to see me, after your Noise and Nonsense,
and exposing me as you have done. I ashamed to see you! thought I: Very pretty
indeed! - But I said nothing.
    Mrs. Jervis, said he, here you are both together. Do you sit down; but let
her stand if she will: Ay, thought I, if I can; for my Knees beat one against
another. Did you not think, when you saw the Girl in the way you found her in,
that I had given her the greatest Occasion that could possibly be given any
Woman? And that I had actually ruin'd her, as she calls it? Tell me, could you
think any thing less? Indeed, says she, I fear'd so at first. Has she told you
what I did to her, and all I did to her, to occasion all this Folly, by which my
Reputation might have suffer'd in your Opinion, and in that of all the Family? -
Tell me, what has she told you?
    She was a little too much frighted, as she owned afterwards, at his
Sternness, and said, Indeed she told me you only pulled her on your Knee, and
kissed her.
    Then I plucked up my Spirit a little. Only! Mrs. Jervis, said I, and was not
that enough to show me what I had to fear! When a Master of his Honour's Degree
demeans himself to be so free as that to such a poor Servant as me, what is the
next to be expected? - But your Honour went further, so you did; and threaten'd
what you would do, and talk'd of Lucretia, and her hard Fate. - Your Honour
knows you went too far for a Master to a Servant, or even to his Equal; and I
cannot bear it! So I fell a crying most sadly.
    Mrs. Jervis began to excuse me, and to beg he would pity a poor Maiden, that
had such a Value for her Reputation. He said, I speak it to her Face, I think
her very pretty, and I thought her humble, and one that would not grow upon my
Favours, or the Notice I took of her; but I abhor the Thought of forcing her to
any thing. I know myself better, said he, and what belongs to me: And to be sure
I have enough demean'd myself to take so much Notice of such a one as she; but I
was bewitch'd, I think, by her, to be freer than became me; tho' I had no
Intention to carry the Jest farther.
    What poor Stuff was all this, my dear Mother, from a Man of his Sense! But
see how a bad Cause and bad Actions confound the greatest Wits! - It gave me a
little more Courage then; for Innocence, I find, in a weak Mind, has many
Advantages over Guilt, with all its Riches and Wisdom!
    So I said, Your Honour may call this Jest or Sport, or what you please; but
indeed, Sir, it is not a Jest that becomes the Distance between a Master and a
Servant! Do you hear, Mrs. Jervis, said he? Do you hear the Pertness of the
Creature? I had a good deal of this Sort before in the Summer-house, and
Yesterday too, which made me rougher to her than perhaps I had otherwise been.
    Says Mrs. Jervis, Pamela, don't be pert to his Honour! You should know your
Distance; you see his Honour was only in jest! - O dear Mrs. Jervis, said I,
don't you blame me too! It is very difficult to keep one's Distance to the
greatest of Men, when they won't keep it themselves to their meanest Servants!
    See again, said he; could you believe this of the young Baggage, if you had
not heard it? O good your Honour, said the well-meaning Gentlewoman, pity and
forgive the poor Girl; she is but a Girl; and her Virtue is very dear to her;
and I will pawn my Life for her, she will never be pert to your Honour, if
you'll be so good as to molest her no more, nor frighten her again. Said she,
You see how, by her Fit, she was in Terror; she could not help it; and tho' your
Honour intended her no harm; yet the Apprehension was almost Death to her: And I
had much ado to bring her to herself again. O the little Hypocrite, said he! she
has all the Arts of her Sex; they are born with her; and I told you a-while ago,
you did not know her. But, said he, this was not the Reason principally of my
calling you before me both together: I find I am likely to suffer in my
Reputation by the Perverseness and Folly of this Girl. She has told you all, and
perhaps more than all; nay, I make no doubt of it; and she has written Letters;
for I find she is a mighty Letter-writer! to her Father and Mother, and others,
as far as I know; in which she makes herself an Angel of Light, and me, her kind
Master and Benefactor, a Devil incarnate! - (O how People will sometimes,
thought I, call themselves by the right Names! -) And all this I won't bear; and
so I am resolve'd she shall return to the Distresses and Poverty she was taken
from; and let her take care how she uses my Name with Freedom, when she is gone
from me.
    I was brighten'd up at once upon these welcome Words: And I threw myself
upon my Knees at his Feet, with a most sincere, glad Heart; and I said, God
Almighty bless your Honour for your Resolution: Now I shall be happy; and permit
me, on my bended Knees, to thank your Honour for all the Benefits and Favours
you have heaped upon me: For the Opportunities I have had of Improvement and
Learning; through my good Lady's Means, and yours. I will now forget all your
Honour has done to me: And I promise you, that I will never take your Name in my
Lips, but with Reverence and Gratitude: And so God Almighty bless your Honour,
for ever and ever, Amen! - And so I got up, and went away with another-guise
sort of Heart than I came into his Presence with. And so I fell to writing this
Letter. And thank God all is over.
    And now my dearest Father and Mother, expect to see soon your poor Daughter,
with an humble and dutiful Mind, return'd to you: And don't fear but I know how
to be happy with you as ever: For I will lie in the Loft, as I used to do; and
pray let the little Bed be got ready; and I have a little Money, which will buy
me a Suit of clothes, fitter for my Condition than what I have; and I will get
Mrs. Mumford to help me to some Needle-work; and fear not that I shall be a
Burden to you, if my Health continues; and I know God will bless me, if not for
my own sake, for both your sakes, who have, in all your Trials and Misfortunes,
preserved so much Integrity, as makes every body speak well of you both. But I
hope he will let good Mrs. Jervis give me a Character, for fear it should be
thought I was turn'd away for Dishonesty.
    And so God bless you both, and may you be blessed for me, and I blessed for you:
And I will always bless my Master and Mrs. Jervis. And so good Night; for it is
late, and I shall be soon called to-bed.
    I hope Mrs. Jervis is not angry with me, because she has not called me to
Supper with her; tho' I could eat nothing if she had. But I make no doubt I
shall sleep purely to Night, and dream that I am with you, in my dear, dear,
happy Loft once more.
    So, good Night again, my dear Father and Mother, says
                                                      Your honest poor Daughter.
 
May-hap I mayn't come this Week, because I must get up the Linen, and leave
every thing belonging to my Place in Order. So send me a Line if you can, to let
me know if I shall be welcome, by John, who'll call for it as he returns. But
say nothing of my coming away to him, as yet. For it will be said I blab every
thing.
 

                                  Letter XVII.

My dearest Daughter,
    Welcome, welcome, ten times welcome, shall you be to us; for you come to us
innocent, and happy, and honest; and you are the Staff of our Old-age, and our
Comfort too. And tho' we cannot do for you as we would, yet we doubt not we
shall live comfortably together, and what with my diligent Labour, and your poor
Mother's Spinning, and your Needle-work, I make no doubt we shall live better
and better. Only your poor Mother's Eyes begin to fail her; tho' I bless God, I
am as strong, and able, and willing to labour as ever; and Oh my dear Child,
your Virtue has made me, I think, stronger and better than I was before. What
blessed Things are Trials and Temptations to us, when they be overcome!
    But I am thinking about those same four Guineas: I think you should give
them back again to your Master; and yet I have broke them. Alas! I have only
three left; but I will borrow it if I can, Part upon my Wages, and Part of Mrs.
Mumford, and send it to you, that you may return it, against John comes next, if
he comes again, before you.
    I want to know how you come. I fancy honest John will be glad to bear you
Company Part of the Way, if your Master is not so cross as to forbid him. And if
I know time enough, your Mother will go one five Miles, and I will go ten on the
Way, or till I meet you, as far as one Holiday will go: For that I can get Leave
for; and we shall receive you with more Pleasure than we had at your Birth, when
all the worst was over; or than we ever had in our Lives.
    And so God bless you, till the happy Time comes; say both your Mother and I;
which is all at present, from
                                                      Your truly loving Parents.
 

                                 Letter XVIII.

Dear Father and Mother,
    I Thank you a thousand times for your Goodness to me, express'd in your last
Letter. I now long to get my Business done, and come to my New-Old Lot, again,
as I may call it. I have been quite another thing since my Master has turn'd me
off; and as I shall come to you an honest Daughter, what Pleasure it is to what
I should have, if I could not have seen you but as a guilty one! Well, my
writing Time will soon be over, and so I will make Use of it now, and tell you
all that has happen'd since my last Letter.
    I wonder'd Mrs. Jervis did not call me to sup with her, and fear'd she was
angry; and when I had finish'd my Letter, I long'd for her coming to Bed. At
last she came up, but seem'd shy and reserve'd; and I said, O my dear Mrs.
Jervis, I am glad to see you: you are not angry with me, I hope. She said she
was sorry Things went so far; and that she had a great deal of Talk with my
Master after I was gone. She said, he seem'd mov'd at what I said, and at my
falling on my Knees to him, and my Prayer for him, at my going away. He said, I
was a strange Girl; he knew not what to make of me: And is she gone? said he: I
intended to say something else to her, but she behave'd so oddly, that I had not
Power to stop her. She ask'd if she should call me again. He said, Yes; and
then, No, let her go; it is best for her and me too, that she shall go now I
have given her Warning. But where she had it, I can't tell; but I never met with
the Fellow of her in my Life, at any Age. She said, he had order'd her not to
tell me all: but she believe'd he never would offer any thing to me again, and I
might stay, she fancy'd, if I would beg it as a Favour; tho' she was not sure
neither.
    I stay! dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, why 'tis the best News that could have
come to me, that he will let me go. I do nothing but long to go back again to my
Poverty and Distress, as he said I should; for, tho' I am sure of the Poverty, I
shall not have Half the Distress I have had for some Months past, I'll assure
you.
    Mrs. Jervis, dear good Soul, wept over me, and said, Well, well Pamela, I
did not think I had show'd so little Love to you, as that you should express so
much Joy to leave me. I am sure I never had a Child half so dear to me as you!
    I cry'd to hear her so good to me, as indeed she has always been; and said,
What would you have me to do, dear Mrs. Jervis? I love you next to my own Father
and Mother, and you are the chief Concern I have to leave this Place; but I am
sure it is certain Ruin if I stay. After such Offers, and such Threatenings, and
his comparing himself to a wicked Ravisher, in the very Time of his last Offer;
and making a Jest of me, that we should make a pretty Story in Romances; can I
stay, and be safe? Has he not demean'd himself twice? and it behoves me to
beware of the third Time, for fear he should lay his Snares surer; for may-hap
he did not expect a poor Servant would resist her Master so much. And must it
not be look'd upon as a sort of Warrant for such Actions, if I stay after this?
for I think, when one of our Sex finds she is attempted, it is an Encouragement
to a Person to proceed, if one puts one's self in the Way of it, when one can
help it; and it shows one can forgive what in short ought not to be forgiven.
Which is no small Countenance to foul Actions, I'll assure you.
    She hugg'd me to her, and said, I'll assure you! Pretty-face, where gottest
thou all thy Knowledge, and thy good Notions, at these Years? Thou art a Miracle
for thy Age, and I shall always love thee! But, do you resolve to leave us,
Pamela?
    Yes, my dear Mrs. Jervis, said I; for as Matters stand, how can I do
otherwise? - But I'll do all the Duties of my Place first, if I may. And I hope
you'll give me a Character as to my Honesty, as it may not look as if I was
turn'd away for any Harm. Ay, that I will, said she; I will give thee such a
Character as never Girl at thy Years deserve'd. And I am sure, said I, I will
always love and honour you, as my third best Friend, where-ever I go, or
whatever becomes of me.
    And so we went to Bed, and I never wak'd 'till 'twas Time to rise; which I
did, as blyth as a Bird, and went about my Business with great Pleasure.
    But I believe my Master is fearfully angry with me; for he past by me two or
three times, and would not speak to me; and towards Evening he met me in the
Passage, going into the Garden, and said such a Word to me as I never heard in
my Life from him, to Man, Woman or Child; for he first said, This Creature's
always in my way, I think! I said, standing up as close as I could, and the
Entry was wide enough for a Coach too, I hope I shan't be long in your Honour's
Way. D--n you! said he, (that was the hard Word) for a little Witch; I have no
Patience with you.
    I profess I trembled to hear him say so; but I saw he was vex'd, and as I am
going away, I minded it the less. But I see, my dear Parents, that when a Person
will do wicked Things, it is no Wonder he will speak wicked Words. And so I rest
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XIX.

Dear Father and Mother,
    Our John having no Opportunity to go your Way, I write again, and send both
Letters at once. I can't say yet when I can get away, nor how I shall come;
because Mrs. Jervis show'd my Master the Waistcoat I am flowering for him, and
he said, It looks well enough, I think the Creature had best stay till she has
finish'd it.
    There is some private Talk carry'd on betwixt him and Mrs. Jervis, that she
don't tell me of; but yet she is very kind to me, and I don't mistrust her at
all. I should be very base if I did. But to be sure she must oblige him, and
keep all his lawful Commands; and other, I dare say, she won't keep; she is too
good, and loves me too well; but she must stay when I am gone, and so must get
no Ill-will.
    She has been at me again to ask to stay, and humble myself, as she says. But
what have I done, Mrs. Jervis, said I? If I have been a Sawce-box, and a
Bold-face, and Pert, and a Creature, as he calls me, have I not had Reason? Do
you think I should ever have forgot myself, if he had not forgot to act as my
Master? Tell me, from your own Heart, dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, if you think I
could stay and be safe? What would you think, or how would you act in my Case?
    My dear Pamela, said she, and kiss'd me, I don't know how I should act, or
what I should think. I hope I should act as you do. But I know nobody else that
would. My Master is a fine Gentleman; he has a great deal of Wit and Sense, and
is admir'd, as I know, by half a dozen Ladies, who would think themselves happy
in his Addresses. He has a noble Estate; and yet I believe he loves my good
Maiden, tho' his Servant, better than all the Ladies in the Land; and he has
try'd to overcome it, because he knows you are so much his Inferior; and 'tis my
Opinion he finds he can't; and that vexes his proud Heart, and makes him resolve
you shan't stay, and so he speaks so cross to you, when he sees you by Accident.
    Well, but, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you, if he can stoop to like such
a poor Girl as I, as may be he may, for I have read of Things almost as strange,
from great Men to poor Damsels; What can it be for? - He may condescend,
may-hap, to think I may be good enough for his Harlot; and those Things don't
disgrace Men, that ruin poor Women, as the World goes. And so, if I was wicked
enough, he would keep me till I was undone, and 'till his Mind changed; for even
wicked Men, I have read, soon grow weary of Wickedness of one Sort, and love
Variety. Well then, poor Pamela must be turn'd off, and look'd upon as a vile
abandon'd Creature, and every body would despise her; ay, and justly too, Mrs.
Jervis; for she that can't keep her Virtue, ought to live in Disgrace.
    But, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me tell you, that I hope, if I was sure he
would always be kind to me, and never turn me off at all, that God will give me
his Grace, so as to hate and withstand his Temptations, were he not only my
Master, but my King, for the Sin's sake; and this my poor dear Parents have
always taught me; and I should be a sad wicked Creature indeed, if, for the sake
of Riches or Favour, I should forfeit my good Name: yea, and worse than any
other young body of my Sex; because I can so contentedly return to my Poverty
again, and think it less Disgrace to be oblige'd to wear Rags, and live upon
Ryebread and Water, as I use to do, than to be a Harlot to the greatest Man in
the World.
    Good Mrs. Jervis lifted up her Hands, and had her Eyes full of Tears: God
bless you, my dear Love, said she; you are my Admiration and Delight! - How
shall I do to part with you?
    Well, good Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you now: - You and he have had
some Talk, and you mayn't be suffer'd to tell me all. But, do you think, if I
was to ask to stay, that he is sorry for what he has done! ay, and asham'd of it
too! for I am sure he ought, considering his high Degree, and my low Degree, and
how I have nothing in the World to trust to but my Honesty! Do you think in your
own Conscience now, pray answer me truly; that he would never offer any thing to
me again; and that I could be safe?
    Alas! my dear Child, said she, don't put thy home Questions to me, with that
pretty becoming Earnestness in thy Look. I know this, that he is vex'd at what
he has done; he was vex'd the first Time, more vex'd the second Time.
    Yes, said I, and so he will be vex'd I suppose the third, and the fourth
Time too, 'till he has quite ruin'd your poor Maiden, and who will have Cause to
be vex'd then?
    Nay, Pamela, said she, don't imagine that I would be accessory to your Ruin
for the World. I only can say, that he has yet done you no Hurt; and 'tis no
Wonder that he should love you, you are so pretty; tho' so much beneath him: But
I dare swear for him, he never will offer you any Force.
    You say, said I, that he was sorry for his first Offer in the Summer-house;
well, and how long did his Sorrow last? - Only 'till he found me by myself; and
then he was worse than before: and so became sorry again. And if he has deign'd
to love me, and you say can't help it, why he can't help it neither, if he
should have an Opportunity, a third time to distress me. And I have read, that
many a Man has been asham'd at a Repulse, that never would, had they succeeded.
Besides, Mrs. Jervis, if he really intends to offer no Force, What does that
mean? - While you say he can't help liking me, for Love it cannot be! - Does not
it imply, that he hopes to ruin me by my own Consent? I think, said I, (and I
hope God would give me Grace to do so) that I should not give way to his
Temptations on any Account; but it would be very presumptuous in me to rely upon
my own Strength, against a Gentleman of his Qualifications and Estate, and who
is my Master; and thinks himself entitled to call me Bold-face, and what not;
only for standing on my necessary Defence? And that where the Good of my Soul
and Body, and my Duty to God, and my Parents, are all concerned. How then, Mrs.
Jervis, said I, can I ask or wish to stay?
    Well, well, says she; as he seems very desirous you should not stay, I hope
it is from a good Motive; for fear he should be tempted to disgrace himself as
well as you. No, no, Mrs. Jervis, said I; I have thought of that too, for I
would be glad to think of him with that Duty that becomes me; but then he would
have let me gone to Lady Davers, and not have hinder'd my Preferment. And he
would not have said, I should return to my Poverty and Distress, when I had
been, by his Mother's Goodness, lifted out of it; but that he intended to fright
me, and punish me, as he thought, for not complying with his Wickedness: And
this shows me enough what I have to expect from his future Goodness, except I
will deserve it at his own dear, dear Price!
    She was silent, and I said, Well there's no more to be said; I must go,
that's certain; All my Concern will be how to part with you: And indeed, next to
you, with every body; for all my Fellow-servants have love'd me, and you and they
will cost me a Sigh and a Tear too now-and-then, I am sure; and so I fell
a-crying. I could not help it. For it is a pleasant Thing to one to be in a
House among a great many Fellow-servants, and be belove'd by them all.
    Nay, I should have told you before now, how kind and civil Mr. Longman our
Steward is: Vastly courteous indeed on all Occasions, and he said, once to Mrs.
Jervis, he wish'd he was a young Man for my sake, I should be his Wife, and he
would settle all he had upon me on Marriage; and, you must know, he is reckon'd
worth a Power of Money.
    I take no Pride in this; but bless God, and your good Example, my dear
Parents, that I have been enabled to have every body's good Word. Not but that
our Cook one Day, who is a little snappish and cross sometimes, said once to me,
Why this Pamela of ours goes as fine as a Lady. See what it is to have a fine
Face! - I wonder what the Girl will come to at last!
    She was hot with her Work; and I sneak'd away; for I seldom went down in the
Kitchen; and I heard the Butler say, Why, Jane, nobody has your good Word! What
has Mrs. Pamela done to you? I am sure she offends no body. And what, said the
peevish Wench, have I said to her, Foolatum; but that she was pretty? They
quarrel'd afterwards, I heard; but I was sorry for it, and troubled myself no
more about it. Forgive this silly Prattle, from
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 
O! I forgot to say, that I would stay to finish the Waistcoat; I never did a
prettier Piece of Work; and I am up early and late to get it finish'd; for I
long to come to you.
 

                                   Letter XX.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I did not send my last Letters so soon as I would, because John (whether my
Master mistrusts or no, I can't say) had been sent to Lady Davers's instead of
Isaac, who used to go; and I could not be so free with, nor so well trust Isaac;
tho' he is very civil to me too. So I was forced to stay till John return'd.
    As I may not have Opportunity to send again soon, and yet as I know you keep
my Letters, and read them over and over (so John told me) when you have done
Work, so much does your Kindness make you love all that comes from your poor
Daughter; and as it may be some little Pleasure to me, may-hap, to read them
myself, when I am come to you, to remind me what I have gone thro', and how
great God's Goodness has been to me (which, I hope, will rather strengthen my
good Resolutions, that I may not hereafter, from my bad Conduct, have Reason to
condemn myself from my own Hand, as it were): For all these Reasons, I say, I
will write as I have Time, and as Matters happen, and send the Scribble to you
as I have Opportunity; and if I don't every time, in Form, subscribe as I ought,
I am sure you will always believe that it is not for want of Duty. So I will
begin where I left off about the Talk between Mrs. Jervis and me, for me to ask
to stay.
    Unknown to Mrs. Jervis, I put a Project, as I may call it, in Practice. I
thought with myself some Days ago, Here I shall go home to my poor Father and
Mother, and have nothing on my Back, that will be fit for my Condition; for how
should your poor Daughter look with a Silk Night-gown, Silken Petticoats,
Cambrick Head-clothes, fine Holland Linen, lac'd Shoes, that were my Lady's, and
fine Stockens! And how in a little while must they have look'd, like old
Cast-offs indeed, and I look'd so for wearing them! And People would have said,
(for poor Folks are envious, as well as rich) See there Goody Andrews's
Daughter, turn'd home from her fine Place! What a tawdry Figure she makes! And
how well that Garb becomes her poor Parents Circumstances! - And how would they
look upon me, thought I to myself, when they come to be in Tatters, and worn
out? And how should I look, even if I could get homespun Cloths, to dwindle into
them one by one, as I could get them? - May-be, an old Silk Gown, and a new
Linsey-woolsey Petticoat, and so on. So, thinks I, I had better get myself at
once 'quipt in the Dress that would become my Condition; and tho' it might look
but poor to what I was us'd to wear of late Days, yet it would serve me, when I
came to you, for a good Holiday and Sunday Suit, and what by God's Blessing on
my Industry, I might, may-be, make shift to keep up to.
    So, as I was saying, unknown to any body, I bought of Farmer Nichols's Wife
and Daughters, a good sad-colour'd Stuff, of their own Spinning, enough to make
me a Gown and two Petticoats; and I made Robings and Facings of a pretty Bit of
printed Calicoe, I had by me.
    I had a pretty good Camlet quilted Coat, that I thought might do tolerably
well; and I bought two Flannel Under-coats, not so good as my Swan-skin and fine
Linen ones; but what would keep me warm, if any Neighbour should get me to go
out to help 'em to milk, now-and-then, as sometimes I us'd to do formerly; for I
am resolve'd to do all your good Neighbours what Kindness I can; and hope to make
myself as much belove'd about you, as I am here.
    I got some pretty good Scots Cloth, and made me at Mornings and Nights, when
nobody saw me, two Shifts, and I have enough left for two Shirts, and two
Shifts, for you, my dear Father and Mother. When I come home, I'll make 'em for
you, and desire your Acceptance as my first Present.
    Then I bought of a Pedlar, two pretty enough round-ear'd Caps, a little
Straw Hat, and a Pair of knit Mittens, turn'd up with white Calicoe; and two
Pair of ordinary blue Worsted Hose, that make a smartish Appearance, with white
Clocks, I'll assure you; and two Yards of black Ribbon for my Shift Sleeves, and
to serve as a Necklace; and when I had 'em all come home, I went and look'd upon
them once in two Hours, for two Days together: For, you must know, tho' I lay
with Mrs. Jervis, I kept my own little Apartment still for my clothes; and
nobody went thither but myself. You'll say, I was no bad Housewife to have save'd
so much Money; but my dear good Lady was always giving me something.
    I believe'd myself the more oblige'd to do this, because as I was turn'd away
for what my good Master thought Want of Duty; and, as he expected other Returns
for his Presents, than I intended, I bless God, to make him; so I thought it was
but just to leave his Presents behind me when I went away: for, you know, if I
would not earn his Wages, why should I have them?
    Don't trouble yourself, now I think of it, about the Four Guineas, nor
borrow to make them up; for they were given me, with some Silver, as I told you,
as a Perquisite, being what my Lady had about her when she dy'd; and, as I hope
for no other Wages, I am so vain as to think I have deserve'd them in the
fourteen Months, since my Lady's Death: For she, good Soul! overpaid me before
in Learning and other Kindnesses. - O had she liv'd, none of these Things might
have happen'd! - But God be prais'd, 'tis no worse. Every thing turns about for
the best, that's my Confidence.
    So, as I was saying, I have provided a new and more suitable Dress, and I
long to appear in my new clothes, more than ever I did in any new clothes in my
Life; for then I shall be soon after with you, and at Ease in my Mind. - But mum
- I am, etc.
 

                                  Letter XXI.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I Was force'd to break off; for I fear'd my Master was coming; but it prov'd
to be only Mrs. Jervis. She came to me, and said, I can't endure you should be
so much by yourself, Pamela. And I, said I, dread nothing so much as Company;
for my Heart was up at my Mouth now, for fear my Master was coming. But I always
rejoice to see my dear Mrs. Jervis.
    Said she, I have had a world of Talk with my Master about you. I am sorry
for it, said I; that I am made of so much Consequence as to be talk'd of by him.
O, said she, I must not tell you all; but you are of more Consequence to him,
than you think for -
    Or wish for, said I; for the Fruits of being of Consequence to him, would
make me of none to myself, or any body else.
    Said she, thou art as witty as any Lady in the Land. I wonder where thou
gottest it. But they must be poor Ladies, with such great Opportunities, I am
sure, if they have no more than I. - But let that pass.
    I suppose, said I, that I am of so much Consequence, however, as to vex him,
if it be but to think, he can't make a Fool of such a one as I; and that is
nothing at all, but a Rebuke to the Pride of his high Condition, which he did
not expect, and knows not how to put up with.
    There is something in that, may-be, says she; but indeed, Pamela, he is very
angry at you too; and calls you twenty perverse Things; wonders at his own
Folly, to have shown you so much Favour, as he calls it; which he was first
inclin'd to, he says, for his Mother's sake, and would have persisted to show
you for your own, if you was not your own Enemy.
    Nay, now, I shan't love you, Mrs. Jervis, said I; you are going to persuade
me to ask to stay, tho' you know the Hazards I run. - No, said she, he says you
shall go; for he thinks it won't be for his Reputation to keep you: But he
wish'd (don't speak of it for the World, Pamela) that he knew a Lady of Birth,
just such another as yourself, in Person and Mind, and he would marry her
To-morrow.
    I colour'd up to the Ears at this Word; but said, Yet if I was the Lady of
Birth, and he would offer to be rude first, as he has twice done to poor me, I
don't know whether I would have him: For she that can bear an Insult of that
kind, I should think not worthy to be any Gentleman's Wife; any more than he
would be a Gentleman that would offer it.
    Nay, now, Pamela, said she, thou carriest thy Notions a great way. Well,
dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, very seriously, for I could not help it, I am more
full of Fears than ever. I have only to beg of you as one of the best Friends I
have in the World, to say nothing of my asking to stay. To say my Master likes
me, when I know what End he aims at, is Abomination to my Ears; and I shan't
think myself safe till I am at my poor Father's and Mother's.
    She was a little angry at me, 'till I assure'd her, that I had not the least
Uneasiness on her Account, but thought myself safe under her Protection and
Friendship. And so we dropped the Discourse for that Time.
    I hope to have finish'd this ugly Waistcoat in two Days; after which, I have
only some Linen to get up, and do something to, and shall then let you know how
I shall contrive as to my Passage; for the heavy Rains will make it sad
travelling on Foot: But may-be I may get a Place to --, which is ten Miles of
the Way, in Farmer Nichols's close Cart; for I can't sit a Horse well at all.
And may-be nobody will be suffer'd to see me on upon the Way. But I hope to let
you know more,
                                                                      From, etc.
 

                                  Letter XXII.

My dear Father and Mother,
    All my Fellow-servants have now some Notion, that I am to go away; but can't
imagine for what. Mrs. Jervis tells them, that my Father and Mother growing in
Years, cannot live without me; and so I go to them to help to comfort their old
Age; but they seem not to believe it.
    What they found it out by, was, the Butler heard him say to me, as I pass'd
by him, in the Entry leading to the Hall, Who's that? Pamela, Sir, said I.
Pamela! said he, How long are you to stay here? - Only, please your Honour, said
I, till I have done the Waistcoat; and it is almost done. - You might, says he,
(very roughly indeed) have finish'd that long enough ago, I should have thought!
Indeed, and please your Honour said I, I have work'd early and late upon it;
there is a great deal of Work in it! Work in it! said he; yes, you mind your Pen
more than your Needle; I don't want such idle Sluts to stay in my House.
    He seem'd startled, when he saw the Butler. As he enter'd the Hall, where
Mr. Jonathan stood, What do you here, said he? - The Butler was as much
confounded as I; for I never having been tax'd so roughly, could not help crying
sadly; and got out of both their ways to Mrs. Jervis, and told my Complaint.
This Love, said she, is the D--l! in how many strange Shapes does it make People
show themselves! And in some the farthest from their Hearts.
    So one, and then another, has been since whispering, Pray, Mrs. Jervis, are
we to lose Mrs. Pamela? as they always call me - What has she done? And then she
tells them as above, about going home to you.
    She said afterwards to me, Well, Pamela, you have made our Master from the
sweetest-temper'd Gentleman in the World, one of the most peevish. But you have
it in your Power to make him as sweet-temper'd as ever; tho' I hope in God
you'll never do it on his Terms!
    This was very good in Mrs. Jervis; but it intimated, that she thought as ill
of his Designs as I; and as she knew his Mind more than I, it convince'd me, that
I ought to get away as fast as I could.
 
My Master came in, just now, to speak to Mrs. Jervis about Houshold Matters,
having some Company to dine with him To-morrow; and I stood up, and having been
crying, at his Roughness in the Entry, I turn'd away my Face.
    You may well, said he, turn away your cursed Face; I wish I had never seen
it! - Mrs. Jervis, how long is she to be about this Waistcoat?
    Sir, said I, if your Honour had pleased, I would have taken it with me; and
tho' it will be now finish'd in a few Hours, I will do so still; and remove this
hateful poor Pamela out of your House and Sight for ever.
    Mrs. Jervis, said he, not speaking to me, I believe this little Slut has the
Power of Witchcraft, if ever there was a Witch; for she inchants all that come
near her. She makes even you, who should know better what the World is, think
her an Angel of Light.
    I offer'd to go away; for I believe'd he wanted me to ask to stay in my
Place, for all this his great Wrath; and he said, Stay here, stay here, when I
bid you; and snatch'd my Hand. I trembled, and said, I will! I will! for he hurt
my Fingers, he grasp'd me so hard.
    He seem'd to have a mind to say something to me; but broke off abruptly; and
said, Begone! And away I tripp'd, as fast as I could; and he and Mrs. Jervis had
a deal of Talk, as she told me; and among the rest, he express'd himself vex'd
to have spoke in Mr. Jonathan's Hearing.
    Now you must know, that Mr. Jonathan our Butler, is a very grave good sort
of old Man, with his Hair as white as Silver! and an honest worthy Man he is. I
was hurrying out, with a Flea in my Ear, as the Saying is, and going down Stairs
into the Parlour, met him. He took hold of my Hands, in a gentler manner tho',
than my Master, with both his; and he said, Ah! sweet, sweet Mrs. Pamela! what
is it I heard just now! - I am sorry at my Heart; but I am sure I will sooner
believe any body in Fault than you. Thank you, Mr. Jonathan, said I; but as you
value your Place, don't be seen speaking to such a one as me. I cry'd too; and
splipped away as fast as I could from him, for his own sake, lest he should be seen
to pity me.
    And now I will give you an Instance how much I am in Mr. Longman's Esteem
also.
    I had lost my Pen some how; and my Paper being wrote out, I stepp'd to Mr.
Longman's our Steward's Office, to beg him to give me a Pen or two, and a Sheet
or two of Paper. He said, Aye, that I will, my sweet Maiden! And gave me three
Pens, some Wafers, a Stick of Wax, and twelve Sheets of Paper; and coming from
his Desk, where he was writing, he said, Let me have a Word or two with you, my
sweet little Mistress (for so these two good old Gentlemen often call me; for I
believe they love me dearly): I hear bad News; that we are going to lose you: I
hope it is not true. Yes, it is, Sir, said I; but I was in Hopes it would not be
known till I went away.
    What a D--l, said he, ails our Master of late! I never saw such an
Alteration in any Man in my Life! He is pleas'd with nobody, as I see; and by
what Mr. Jonathan tells me just now, he was quite out of the way with you. What
could you have done to him, tro'? Only Mrs. Jervis is a very good Woman, or I
should have fear'd she had been your Enemy.
    No, said I, nothing like it. Mrs. Jervis is a just good Woman, and next to
my Father and Mother, the best Friend I have in the World. - Well then, says he,
it must be worse. Shall I guess? You are too pretty, my sweet Mistress, and,
may-be, too virtuous. Ah! have I not hit it? No, good Mr. Longman, said I, don't
think any thing amiss of my Master; he is cross and angry with me indeed, that's
true; but I may have given Occasion for it, may-be; and because I am oblige'd to
go to my Father and Mother, rather than stay here, may-hap, he may think me
ungrateful. But you know, Sir, said I, that a Father and Mother's Comfort is the
dearest thing to a good Child that can be. Sweet Excellence! said he, this
becomes you; but I know the World and Mankind too well; tho' I must hear, and
see, and say nothing! But God bless my little Sweeting, said he, where-ever you
go! And away went I, with a Curchee and Thanks.
    Now this pleases one, my dear Father and Mother, to be so beloved. - How
much better, by good Fame and Integrity, is it to get every one's good Word but
one, than by pleasing that one, to make every one else one's Enemy, and be an
execrable Creature besides! I am, etc.
 

                                 Letter XXIII.

My dear Father and Mother,
    We had a great many neighbouring Gentlemen, and their Ladies, this Day at
Dinner; and my Master made a fine Entertainment for them. And Isaac, and Mr.
Jonathan, and Benjamin waited at Table. And Isaac tells Mrs. Jervis, that the
Ladies will by-and-by come to see the House, and have the Curiosity to see me;
for it seems, they said to my Master, when the Jokes flew about, Well Mr. B--,
we understand that you have a Servant-maid, who is the greatest Beauty in the
County; and we promise ourselves to see her before we go.
    The Wench is well enough, said he; but no such Beauty as you talk of, I'll
assure ye. She was my Mother's Waiting-maid, and she on her Death-bed engage'd me
to be kind to her. She is young, and every thing is pretty that is young.
    Aye, aye, says one of the Ladies, that is true; but if your Mother had not
recommended her so strongly, there is so much Merit to Beauty, that I make no
doubt such a fine Gentleman would have wanted no such strong Inducement to be
kind.
    They all laugh'd at my Master: And he, it seems, laugh'd for Company; but
said, I don't know how it is; but I see with different Eyes from other People;
for I have heard much more Talk of her Prettiness, than I think she deserves:
She is well enough, as I said; but I think her greatest Excellence is, that she
is humble, and courteous, and faithful, and makes all her Fellow-servants love
her; my House-keeper in particular doats upon her, and you know, Ladies, she is
a Woman of Discernment; and, as for Mr. Longman, and Jonathan, here, if they
thought themselves young enough, I am told, they would fight for her. Is it not
true, Jonathan? Troth, Sir, said he, an't please your Honour, I never knew her
Peer, and all your Honour's Family are of the same Mind. Do you hear now? said
my Master - Well, said the Ladies, we will make a Visit to Mrs. Jervis
by-and-by, and hope to see this Paragon.
 
Well, I believe, they are coming, and I will tell you more by-and-by. I wish
they had come, and were gone. Why can't they make their Game without me!
    Well, these fine Ladies have been here, and gone back again. I would have
been absent if I could, and did step into the Closet, so they saw me not when
they came in.
    There were four of them, Lady Arthur at the great white House on the Hill,
Lady Brooks, Lady Towers, and the other, it seems, a Countess, of some hard
Name, I forget what.
    So, Mrs. Jervis, says one of the Ladies, how do you do? We are all come to
inquire after your Health. I am much oblige'd to your Ladyships, said Mrs.
Jervis: Will your Ladyships please to sit down? But, said the Countess, we are
not only come to ask after Mrs. Jervis's Health neither; but we are come to see
a Rarity besides. Aye, says Lady Arthur, I have not seen your Pamela these two
Years, and they tell me she is grown wondrous pretty in that Time.
    Then I wish'd I had not been in the Closet; for when I came out, they must
needs know I heard them: but I have often found, that bashful Bodies owe
themselves a Spight, and frequently confound themselves more, by endeavouring to
avoid Confusion.
    Why, yes, says Mrs. Jervis, Pamela is very pretty indeed; she's but in the
Closet there: - Pamela, pray step hither. I came out, all cover'd with Blushes;
and they smile'd at one another.
    The Countess took me by the Hand: Why, indeed, she was pleas'd to say,
Report has not been too lavish, I'll assure you. Don't be asham'd, Child (and
star'd full in my Face); I wish I had just such a Face to be asham'd of! O how
like a Fool I look'd! -
    Lady Arthur said, Aye, my good Pamela, I say as her Ladyship says: Don't be
so confuse'd; tho' indeed it becomes you too. I think your good Lady departed
made a sweet Choice of such a pretty Attendant. She would have been mighty proud
of you, as she always was praising you, had she liv'd till now.
    Ah! Madam, said Lady Brooks, do you think, that so dutiful a Son as our
Neighbour, who always admir'd what his Mother love'd, does not pride himself, for
all what he said at Table, in such a pretty Maiden?
    She look'd with such a malicious sneering Countenance, I cannot abide her.
    Lady Towers said, with a free Air; for it seems she is call'd a Wit; Well,
Mrs. Pamela, I can't say, I like you so well as these Ladies do; for I should
never care, if you were my Servant, to see you and your Master in the same House
together. Then they all set up a great Laugh.
    I know what I could have said, if I durst. But they are Ladies - and Ladies
may say any thing.
    Says Lady Towers, Can the pretty Image speak, Mrs. Jervis? I vow she has
speaking Eyes! O you little Rogue, says she, and tapt me on the Cheek, you seem
born to undo, or to be undone!
    God forbid, and please your Ladyship, said I, it should be either! - I beg,
said I, to withdraw; for the Sense I have of my Unworthiness, renders me unfit
for such a Presence.
    I then went away, with one of my best Curchees; and Lady Towers said, as I
went out, Prettily said, I vow! - And Lady Brooks said, See that Shape? I never
saw such a Face and Shape in my Life; why she must be better descended than you
have told me!
    And so, belike, their Clacks run for half an Hour in my Praises, and glad
was I, when I got out of the Hearing of them.
    But it seems they went down with such a Story to my Master, and so full of
me, that he had a hard Life to stand it; but as it was very little to my
Reputation, I am sure I could take no Pride in it; and I fear'd it would make no
better for me. This gives me another Cause for leaving this House.
    This is Thursday Morning, and next Thursday I hope to set out; for I have
finish'd my Task, and my Master is horrid cross: And I am vex'd, his Crossness
affects me so. If ever he had any Kindness towards me, I believe he now hates me
heartily.
    Is it not strange, that Love borders so much upon Hate? But this wicked Love
is not like the true virtuous Love, to be sure: That and Hatred must be as far
off, as Light and Darkness. And how must this Hate have been increased, if he
had met with a base Compliance, after his wicked Will had been gratify'd?
    Well, one may see by a little, what a great deal means: For if Innocence
cannot attract common Civility, what must Guilt expect, when Novelty had ceas'd
to have its Charms, and Changeableness had taken place of it? Thus we read in
Holy Writ, that wicked Amnon, when he had ruin'd poor Tamar, hated her more than
ever he love'd her, and would have turn'd her out of Door!
    How happy am I, to be turn'd out of Door, with that sweet Companion my
Innocence! - O may that be always my Companion! And while I presume not upon my
own Strength, and am willing to avoid the Tempter, I hope the Divine Grace will
assist me.
    Forgive me, that I repeat in my Letter Part of my hourly Prayer. I owe every
thing, next to God's Goodness, to your Piety and good Examples, my dear Parents;
my dear poor Parents, I will say, because your Poverty is my Pride, as your
Integrity shall be my Imitation.
    As soon as I have din'd, I will put on my new clothes. I long to have them
on. I know I shall surprise Mrs. Jervis with them; for she shan't see me till I
am full-dress'd. - John is come back, and I'll soon send you some of what I have
written. - I find he is going early in the Morning; and so I'll close here, that
I am
                                                     Your most dutiful Daughter.
 
Don't lose your Time in meeting me; because I am so uncertain. It is hard, if
some how or other, I can't get a Passage to you. But may-be my Master won't
refuse to let John bring me. I can ride behind him, I believe, well enough; for
he is very careful, and very honest; and you know John as well as I; for he
loves you both. Besides, may-be, Mrs. Jervis can put me in some way.
 

                                  Letter XXIV.

Dear Father and Mother,
    I shall write on, as long as I stay, tho' I should have nothing but
Sillinesses to write; for I know you divert yourselves at Nights with what I
write, because it is mine. John tells me how much you long for my coming; but he
says, he told you, he hop'd something would happen to hinder it.
    I am glad you did not tell him the Occasion of my coming away; for if they
should guess, it were better so, than to have it from you or me: Besides, I
really am concern'd that my poor Master should cast such a Thought upon such a
Creature as me; for besides the Disgrace, it has quite turn'd his Temper; and I
begin to think he likes me, and can't help it; and yet strives to conquer it,
and so finds no way but to be cross to me.
    Don't think me presumptuous and conceited; for it is more my Concern than my
Pride, to see such a Gentleman so demean himself, and lessen the Regard he used
to have in the Eyes of all his Servants on my Account. - But I am to tell you of
my new Dress to Day.
    And so, when I had din'd, up Stairs I went, and lock'd myself into my little
Room. There I trick'd myself up as well as I could in my new Garb, and put on my
round-ear'd ordinary Cap; but with a green Knot however, and my homespun Gown
and Petticoat, and plain-leather Shoes; but yet they are what they call Spanish
Leather, and my ordinary Hose, ordinary I mean to what I have been lately used
to; tho' I shall think good Yarn may do very well for every Day, when I come
home. A plain Muslin Tucker I put on, and my black Silk Necklace, instead of the
French Necklace my Lady gave me, and put the Ear-rings out of my Ears; and when
I was quite 'quip'd, I took my Straw Hat in my Hand, with its two blue Strings,
and look'd about me in the Glass, as proud as any thing. - To say Truth, I never
lik'd myself so well in my Life.
    O the Pleasure of descending with Ease, Innocence and Resignation! - Indeed
there is nothing like it! An humble Mind, I plainly see, cannot meet with any
very shocking Disappointment, let Fortune's Wheel turn round as it will.
    So I went down to look for Mrs. Jervis, to see how she lik'd me.
    I met, as I was upon the Stairs, our Rachel, who is the House-maid, and she
made me a low Curchee, and I found did not know me. So I smile'd, and went to the
House-keeper's Parlour. And there sat good Mrs. Jervis at Work, making a Shift:
And, would you believe it? she did not know me at first; but rose up, and pull'd
off her Spectacles; and said, Do you want me, forsooth? I could not help
laughing, and said, Hey-day! Mrs. Jervis, what! don't you know me? -- She stood
all in Amaze, and look'd at me from Top to Toe; Why you surprise me, said she;
what! Pamela! Thus metamorphos'd! How came this about? As it happen'd, in stepped
my Master, and my Back being to him, he thought it was a Stranger speaking to
Mrs. Jervis, and withdrew again; and did not hear her ask if his Honour had any
Commands with her? -- She turn'd me about and about, and I show'd her all my
Dress, to my Under-petticoat; and she said, sitting down, Why I am all in Amaze!
I must sit down. What can all this mean? I told her, I had no clothes suitable
to my Condition when I return'd to my Father's; and so it was better to begin
here, as I was soon to go away, that all my Fellow-servants might see, I knew
how to suit myself to the State I was returning to.
    Well, said she, I never knew the like of thee. But this sad Preparation for
going away (for now I see you are quite in Earnest) is what I know not how to
get over. O my dear Pamela, how can I part with you!
    My Master rung in the back Parlour, and so I withdrew, and Mrs. Jervis went
to attend him. It seems he said to her, I was coming in to let you know that I
shall go to Lincolnshire, and may-be to my Sister Davers's, and be absent some
Weeks. But, pray, what pretty neat Damsel was that with you? She says, she
smile'd, and ask'd if his Honour did not know who it was? No, said he, I never
saw her before. Farmer Nichols, or Farmer Brady, have neither of them such a
tight prim Lass for a Daughter; have they? - Tho' I did not see her Face
neither, said he. If your Honour won't be angry, said she, I will introduce her
into your Presence; for I think, says she, she out-does our Pamela.
    Now I did not thank her for this, as I told her afterwards (for it brought a
great deal of Trouble upon me, as well as Crossness, as you shall hear). That
can't be, he was pleased to say. But if you can find an Excuse for it, let her
come in.
    At that she stepped to me, and told me, I must go in with her to my Master;
but, said she, for Goodness sake, let him find you out; for he don't know you.
Good Sirs! Mrs. Jervis, said I, how could you serve me so? Besides, it looks too
free both in me, and to him. I tell you, said she, you shall come in; and pray
don't reveal yourself till he finds you out.
    So I went in, foolish as I was; tho' I must have been seen by him another
time, if I had not then. And she would make me take my Straw-hat in my Hand.
    I dropped a low Curchee, but said never a Word. I dare say, he knew me as soon
as he saw my Face; but was as cunning as Lucifer. He came up to me, and took me
by the Hand, and said, Whose pretty Maiden are you? - I dare say you are Pamela'
s Sister, you are so like her. So neat, so clean, so pretty! Why, Child, you far
surpass your Sister Pamela!
    I was all Confusion, and would have spoken; but he took me about the Neck;
Why, said he, you are very pretty, Child; I would not be so free with your
Sister, you may believe; but I must kiss you.
    O Sir, said I, I am Pamela, indeed I am: Indeed I am Pamela, her own self!
    He kissed me for all I could do; and said, Impossible! you are a lovelier
Girl by half than Pamela; and sure I may be innocently free with you, tho' I
would not do her so much Favour.
    This was a sad Bite upon me indeed, and what I could not expect; and Mrs.
Jervis look'd like a Fool as much as I, for her Officiousness. - At last I got
away, and ran out of the Parlour, most sadly vex'd, as you may well think.
    He talk'd a good deal to Mrs. Jervis, and at last order'd me to come in to
him. Come in, said he, you little Villain! for so he call'd me; good Sirs! what
a Name was there! Who is it you put your Tricks upon? I was resolved never to
honour your Unworthiness, said he, with so much Notice again; and so you must
disguise yourself, to attract me, and yet pretend, like an Hypocrite as you are
-
    I was out of Patience, then; Hold, good Sir, said I; don't impute Disguise
and Hypocrisy to me, above all things; for I hate them both, mean as I am. I
have put on no Disguise. -- What a-plague, said he, for that was his Word, do
you mean then by this Dress? -- Why, and please your Honour, said I, I mean one
of the honestest things in the World. I have been in Disguise indeed ever since
my good Lady, your Mother, took me from my poor Parents. I came to her Ladyship
so poor and mean, that these clothes I have on, are a princely Suit, to those I
had then. And her Goodness heap'd upon me rich clothes, and other Bounties: And
as I am now returning to my poor Parents again so soon, I cannot wear those good
things without being whooted at; and so have bought what will be more suitable
to my Degree, and be a good Holiday Suit too, when I get home.
    He then took me in his Arms, and presently push'd me from him. Mrs. Jervis,
said he, take the little Witch from me; I can neither bear, nor forbear her!
(Strange Words these!) - But stay, you shan't go! - Yet begone! - No, come back
again.
    I thought he was mad, for my Share; for he knew not what he would have. But
I was going however, and he stepped after me, and took hold of my Arm, and brought
me in again: I am sure he made my Arm black and blue; for the Marks are upon it
still. Sir, Sir, said I, pray have Mercy; I will, I will come in!
    He sat down, and look'd at me, and look'd as silly as such a poor Girl as I,
I thought afterwards. -- At last, he said, Well, Mrs. Jervis, as I was telling
you, you may suffer her to stay a little longer, till I see if my Sister Davers
will have her; if, mean time, she humble herself, and ask this as a Favour, and
is sorry for her Pertness, and the Liberty she has taken with my Character, out
of the House and in the House. Your Honour indeed told me so, said Mrs. Jervis;
but I never found her inclinable to think herself in Fault. Pride and
Perverseness, said he, with a Vengeance! Yet this is your Doating-piece! --
Well, for once I'll submit myself, to tell you, Hussy, said he to me, you may
stay a Fortnight longer, till I see my Sister Davers: Do you hear what I say to
you, Statue! can you neither speak, nor be thankful? - Your Honour frights me
so, said I, that I can hardly speak: But I will venture to say, that I have only
to beg, as a Favour, that I may go to my Father and Mother. - Why, Fool, says
he, won't you like to go to wait on my Sister Davers? Sir, said I, I was once
fond of that Honour; but you was pleased to say, I might be in Danger from her
Ladyship's Nephew, or he from me? - D--d Impertinence! said he; do you hear,
Mrs. Jervis, do you hear, how she retorts upon me? Was ever such matchless
Assurance! -
    I then fell a weeping; for Mrs. Jervis said, Fie, Pamela, fie! - And I said,
My Lot is very hard indeed! I am sure I would hurt nobody; and I have been, it
seems, guilty of Indiscretions, which have cost me my Place, and my Master's
Favour, and so have been turn'd away. And when the Time is come, that I should
return to my poor Parents, I am not suffer'd to go quietly. Good your Honour,
what have I done, that I must be used worse than if I had robb'd you! -- Robb'd
me! said he, why so you have, Hussy; you have robb'd me. Who! I! Sir, said I,
have I robb'd you? Why then you are a Justice of Peace, and may send me to Gaol,
if you please, and bring me to a Tryal for my Life! If you can prove that I have
robb'd you, I am sure I ought to die!
    Now I was quite ignorant of his Meaning; tho' I did not like it when it was
afterwards explain'd, neither; and, well, thought I, what will this come to at
last, if poor Pamela is thought a Thief! Then I thought, in an Instant, how I
should show my Face to my honest poor Parents, if I was but suspected.
    But, Sir, said I, let me ask you but one Question, and pray don't let me be
call'd Names for it; for I don't mean disrespectfully; Why, if I have done
amiss, am I not left to be discharged by your Housekeeper, as the other Maids
have been? And if Jane, or Rachel, or Hannah, were to offend, would your Honour
stoop to take Notice of them? And why should you so demean yourself to take
Notice of me? Pray, Sir, if I have not been worse than others, why should I
suffer more than others? and why should I not be turn'd away, and there's an End
of it? For indeed I am not of Consequence enough for my Master to concern
himself and be angry about such a Creature as me.
    Do you hear, Mrs. Jervis, cry'd he again, how pertly I am interrogated by
this saucy Slut? Why, Sauce-box, says he, did not my good Mother desire me to
take care of you? and have you not been always distinguish'd by me, above a
common Servant? and does your Ingratitude upbraid me for this?
    I said something mutteringly, and he vow'd he would hear it. I begg'd
Excuse; but he insisted upon it. Why then, said I, if your Honour must know, I
said, That my good Lady did not desire your Care to extend to the Summer-house
and her Dressing-room.
    Well, this was a little saucy, you'll say! -- And he flew into such a
Passion, that I was forced to run for it; and Mrs. Jervis said, It was happy I
got out of his way.
    Why, what makes him provoke one so, then? - I'm almost sorry for it; but I
would be glad to get away at any rate. For I begin to be fearful now.
    Just now Mr. Jonathan sent me these Lines - (Lord bless me! what shall I
do?)
    »Dear Mrs. Pamela, Take care of yourself; for Rachel heard my Master say to
Mrs. Jervis, who, she believes, was pleading for you, Say no more, Mrs. Jervis;
for by G-- I will have her! Burn this instantly.«
    O pray for your poor Daughter! I am called to go to-bed by Mrs. Jervis, for
it is past Eleven; and I am sure she shall hear of it; for all this is owing to
her, tho' she did not mean any Harm. But I have been, and am, in a strange
Fluster; and I suppose too, she'll say, I have been full-pert.
    O my dear Father and Mother, Power and Riches never want Advocates! But,
poor Gentlewoman! she cannot live without him. And he has been very good to her.
    So, Good-night. May-be I shall send this in the Morning; but may-be not; so
won't conclude; tho' yet I must say, I am
                                                     Your most dutiful Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XXV.

My dear Parents,
    O let me take up my Complaint, and say, Never was poor Creature so unhappy,
and so barbarously used, as your Pamela! O my dear Father and Mother, my Heart's
just broke! I can neither write as I should do, nor let it alone; for to whom
but you can I vent my Griefs, and keep my poor Heart from bursting! Wicked,
wicked Man! - I have no Patience left me! - But yet, don't be frighted - for, -
I hope - I hope, I am honest! - But if my Head and my Heart will let me, you
shall hear all. - Is there no Constable nor Headborough, tho', to take me out of
his House? for I am sure I can safely swear the Peace against him: But, alas! he
is greater than any Constable, and is a Justice himself; such a Justice, deliver
me from! - But God Almighty, I hope, in time, will right me! - For he knows the
Innocence of my Heart! -
    John went your way in the Morning; but I have been too much distracted to
send by him; and have seen nobody but Mrs. Jervis, and Rachel, and one I hate to
see: And indeed I hate now to see any body. Strange things I have to tell you,
that happen'd since last Night, that good Mr. Jonathan's Letter, and my Master's
Harshness put me into such a Fluster. But I will no more preambulate.
    I went to Mrs. Jervis's Chamber; and Oh! my dear Father and Mother, my
wicked Master had hid himself, base Gentleman as he is! in her Closet, where she
has a few Books, and Chest of Drawers, and such-like. I little suspected it;
tho' I used, till this sad Night, always to look into that Closet, and another
in the Room, and under the Bed, ever since the Summer-house Trick, but never
found any thing; and so I did not do it then, being fully resolve'd to be angry
with Mrs. Jervis for what had happen'd in the Day, and so thought of nothing
else.
    I sat myself down on one side of the Bed, and she on the other, and we began
to undress ourselves; but she on that side next the wicked Closet, that held the
worst Heart in the World. So, said Mrs. Jervis, you won't speak to me, Pamela! I
find you are angry with me. Why, Mrs. Jervis, said I, so I am, a little; 'tis a
Folly to deny it. You see what I have suffer'd by your forcing me in to my
Master! And a Gentlewoman of your Years and Experience must needs know, that it
was not fit for me to pretend to be any body else for my own sake, nor with
regard to my Master.
    But, said she, who would have thought it would have turn'd out so? Ay, said
I, little thinking who heard me, Lucifer always is ready to promote his own Work
and Workmen. You see, presently, what Use he made of it, pretending not to know
me, on purpose to be free with me: And when he took upon himself to know me, to
quarrel with me, and use me hardly: And you too, said I, to cry, Fie, fie,
Pamela! cut me to the Heart: For that encourage'd him.
    Do you think, my Dear, said she, that I would encourage him? - I never said
so to you before; but since you force it from me, I must tell you, that ever
since you consulted me, I have used my utmost Endeavours to divert him from his
wicked Purposes; and he has promised fair; but, to say all in a Word, he doats
upon you; and I begin to see it is not in his Power to help it.
    I luckily said nothing of the Note from Mr. Jonathan; for I began to suspect
all the World almost: But I said, to try Mrs. Jervis, Well then, what would you
have me do? You see he is for having me wait on Lady Davers now.
    Why, I'll tell you freely, my dear Pamela, said she, and I trust to your
Discretion to conceal what I say: My Master has been often desiring me to put
you upon asking him to let you stay. -
    Yes, said I, Mrs. Jervis, let me interrupt you: I will tell you why I could
not think of that: It was not the Pride of my Heart; but the Pride of my
Honesty: For what must have been the Case? Here my Master has been very rude to
me, once and twice; and you say he cannot help it, tho' he pretends to be sorry
for it: Well, he has given me Warning to leave my Place, and uses me very
harshly; may-hap, to frighten me to his Purposes, as he supposes I would be fond
of staying (as indeed I should, if I could be safe; for I love you and all the
House, and value him, if he would act as my Master). Well then, as I know his
Designs, and that he owns he cannot help it; must I not have asked to stay,
knowing he would attempt me again? for all you could assure me of, was, he would
do nothing by Force; so I, a poor weak Girl, was to be left to my own Strength,
God knows! And was not this to allow him to tempt me, as one may say? and to
encourage him to go on in his wicked Devices? - How then, Mrs. Jervis, could I
ask or wish to stay?
    You say well, my dear Child, says she; and you have a Justness of Thought
above your Years; and for all these Confederations, and for what I have heard
this Day, after you run away, (and I am glad you went as you did) I cannot
persuade you to stay; and I shall be glad, which is what I never thought I could
have said, that you was well at your Father's; for if Lady Davers will entertain
you, she may as well have you from thence as here. There's my good Mrs. Jervis!
said I; God will bless you for your good Counsel to a poor Maiden that is hard
beset. But pray what did he say, said I, when I was gone? Why, says she, he was
very angry with you. But he would hear it, said I! I think it was a little bold;
but then he provoked me to it. And had not my Honesty been in the Case, I would
not by any means have been so saucy. Besides, Mrs. Jervis, consider, it was the
Truth; if he does not love to hear of the Summer-house and the Dressing-room,
why should he not be asham'd to continue in the same Mind. But, said she, when
you had mutter'd this to yourself, you might have told him any thing else. Well,
said I, I cannot tell a wilful Lye, and so there's an End of it. But I find you
now give him up, and think there's Danger in staying! - Lord bless me, I wish I
was well out of the House; tho' it was at the Bottom of a wet Ditch, on the
wildest Common in England!
    Why, said she, it signifies nothing to tell you all he said; but it was
enough to make me fear you would not be so safe as I could wish; and upon my
Word, Pamela, I don't wonder he loves you; for, without Flattery, you are a
charming Girl! and I never saw you look more lovely in my Life, than in that
same new Dress of yours. And then it was such a Surprise upon us all! - I
believe truly, you owe some of your Danger to the lovely Appearance you made.
Then, said I, I wish the clothes in the Fire. I expected no Effect from them;
but if any, a quite contrary one.
    Hush! said I, Mrs. Jervis, did you not hear something stir in the Closet?
No, silly Girl, said she! your Fears are always awake! - But indeed, says I, I
think I heard something rustle! - May-be, says she, the Cat may be got there:
But I hear nothing.
    I was hush; but she said, Pr'ythee, my good Girl, make haste to-bed. See if
the Door be fast. So I did, and was thinking to look in the Closet; but hearing
no more Noise, thought it needless, and so went again and sat myself down on the
Bedside, and went on undressing myself. And Mrs. Jervis being by this time
undrest, stepped into Bed, and bid me hasten, for she was sleepy.
    I don't know what was the Matter; but my Heart sadly misgave me; but Mr.
Jonathan's Note was enough to make it do so, with what Mrs. Jervis had said. I
pulled off my Stays, and my Stockens, and my Gown, all to an Under-petticoat;
and then hearing a rustling again in the Closet, I said, God protect us! but
before I say my Prayers, I must look into this Closet. And so was going to it
slip shod, when, O dreadful! out rush'd my Master, in a rich silk and silver
Morning Gown.
    I scream'd, and run to the Bed; and Mrs. Jervis scream'd too; and he said,
I'll do you no harm, if you forbear this Noise; but otherwise take what follows.
    Instantly he came to the Bed; for I had crept into it, to Mrs. Jervis, with
my Coat on, and my Shoes; and taking me in his Arms, said, Mrs. Jervis, rise,
and just step up Stairs, to keep the Maids from coming down at this Noise; I'll
do no harm to this Rebel.
    O, for God's sake! for Pity's sake! Mrs. Jervis, said I, if I am not
betray'd, don't leave me; and, I beseech you, raise all the House. No, said Mrs.
Jervis, I will not stir, my dear Lamb; I will not leave you. I wonder at you,
Sir, said she, and kindly threw herself upon my Coat, clasping me round the
Waist, you shall not hurt this Innocent, said she; for I will lose my Life in
her Defence. Are there not, said she, enough wicked ones in the World, for your
base Purpose, but you must attempt such a Lamb as this!
    He was desperate angry, and threaten'd to throw her out of the Window; and
to turn her out of the House the next Morning. You need not, Sir, said she; for
I will not stay in it. God defend my poor Pamela till To-morrow, and we will
both go together. - Says he, let me but expostulate a Word or two with you,
Pamela. Pray, Pamela, said Mrs. Jervis, don't hear a Word, except he leaves the
Bed, and goes to the other End of the Room. Aye, out of the Room! said I;
expostulate To-morrow, if you must expostulate!
    I found his Hand in my Bosom, and when my Fright let me know it, I was ready
to die; and I sighed, and scream'd, and fainted away. And still he had his Arms
about my Neck; and Mrs. Jervis was about my Feet, and upon my Coat. And all in a
cold, clammy Sweat was I. Pamela, Pamela! said Mrs. Jervis, as she tells me
since, O - h, and gave another Shriek, my poor Pamela is dead for certain! --
And so, to be sure, I was for a time; for I knew nothing more of the Matter, one
Fit following another, till about three Hours after, as it prov'd to be, I found
myself in Bed, and Mrs. Jervis sitting up on one side, with her Wrapper about
her, and Rachel on the other; and no Master, for the wicked Wretch was gone. But
I was so overjoy'd, that I hardly could believe myself; and I said, which were
my first Words, Mrs. Jervis, Mrs. Rachel, can I be sure it is you? God be
prais'd! God be prais'd! -- Where have I been? Hush, my Dear, said Mrs. Jervis,
you have been in Fit after Fit. I never saw any body so frightful in my Life!
    By this I judg'd Mrs. Rachel knew nothing of the Matter; and it seems my
wicked Master had, upon Mrs. Jervis's second Noise on my going away, splipped out,
and, as if he had come from his own Chamber, disturbed by the Screaming, went up
to the Maids Room, (who hearing the Noise, lay trembling, and afraid to stir)
and bid them go down and see what was the Matter with Mrs. Jervis and me. And he
charged Mrs. Jervis, and promised to forgive her for what she had said and done,
if she would conceal the Matter. So the Maids came down; for the Men lie in the
Out- and all went up again, when I came to myself a little, except Rachel, who
staid to sit up with me, and bear Mrs. Jervis Company. I believe they all guess
the Matter to be bad enough; tho' they dare not say any thing.
    When I think of my Danger, and the Freedoms he actually took, tho' I believe
Mrs. Jervis saved me from worse, and she says she did, (tho' what can I think,
who was in a Fit, and knew nothing of the Matter?) I am almost distracted.
    At first I was afraid of Mrs. Jervis; but I am fully satisfied she is very
good, and I should have been lost but for her; and she takes on grievously about
it. What would have become of me, had she gone out of the Room, to still the
Maids, as he bid her. He'd certainly have shut her out, and then, Mercy on me!
what would have become of your poor Pamela!
    I must leave off a little, for my Eyes and my Head are sadly bad. - O this
was a dreadful Trial! This was the worst of all! God send me safe from this
dreadful wicked Man! Pray for
                                                       Your distressed Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XXVI.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I Did not rise till Ten o'Clock, and I had all the Concerns and Wishes of
the Family, and Multitudes of Enquiries about me. My wicked Master went out
early to hunt; but left word, he would be in to breakfast. And so he was.
    He came up to our Chamber about Eleven, and had nothing to do to be sorry:
for he was our Master, and so put on sharp Anger at first.
    I had great Emotions at his entring the Room, and threw my Apron over my
Head, and fell a crying, as if my Heart would break.
    Mrs. Jervis, said he, since I know you, and you me so well, I don't know how
we shall live together for the future. Sir, said she, I will take the Liberty to
say what I think is best for us. I have so much Grief, that you should attempt
to do any Injury to this poor Girl, and especially in my Chamber, that I should
think myself accessory to the Mischief, if I was not to take Notice of it. Tho'
my Ruin therefore may depend upon it, I desire not to stay; but pray let poor
Pamela and I go together. With all my Heart, said he, and the sooner the better.
She fell a crying. I find, says he, this Girl has made a Party of the whole
House in her Favour against me. Her Innocence deserves it of us all, said she
very kindly: And I never could have thought that the Son of my dear good Lady
departed, could have so forfeited his Honour, as to endeavour to destroy what he
ought to protect. No more of this, Mrs. Jervis, said he, I will not bear it. As
for Pamela, she has a lucky Knack at falling into Fits, when she pleases. But
the cursed Yellings of you both made me not my self. I intended no Harm to her,
as I told you both, if you'd have left your Squallings; and I did no Harm
neither, but to myself; for I raise'd a Hornet's Nest about my Ears, that, as far
as I know, may have stung to Death my Reputation. Sir, said Mrs. Jervis, then I
beg Mr. Longman may take my Accounts, and I will go away, as soon as I can. As
for Pamela, she is at Liberty, I hope, to go away next Thursday, as she intends.
    I sat still, for I could not speak nor look up, and his Presence discompos'd
me extremely; but I was sorry to hear myself the unhappy Occasion of Mrs. Jervis
's losing her Place, and hope that may be made up.
    Well, said he, let Mr. Longman make up your Accounts, as soon as you will;
and Mrs. Jewkes (his House-keeper in Lincolnshire) shall come hither in your
Place, and won't be less obliging, I dare say, than you have been. Said she, I
have never disoblig'd you till now, and let me tell you, Sir, if you knew what
belong'd to your own Reputation or Honour - No more, no more, said he, of these
antiquated Topicks. I have been no bad Friend to you; and I shall always esteem
you, tho' you have not been so faithful to my Secrets, as I could have wish'd,
and have laid me open to this Girl, which has made her more afraid of me than
she had Occasion. Well, Sir, said she, after what pass'd Yesterday, and last
Night, I think I went rather too far in favour of your Injunctions than
otherwise; and I should have deserve'd every body's Censure for the basest of
Creatures, had I been capable of contributing to your lawless Attempts. Still,
Mrs. Jervis, still reflecting upon me, and all for imaginary Faults! for what
Harm have I done the Girl? - I won't bear it, I'll assure you. But yet, in
respect to my Mother, I am willing to part friendly with you. Tho' you ought
both of you to reflect on the Freedom of your Conversation, in relation to me;
which I should have resented more than I do; but that I am conscious I had no
Business to demean myself so as to be in your Closet, where I might expect to
hear a multitude of Impertinence between you.
    Well, Sir, said she, you have no Objection, I hope, to Pamela's going away
on Thursday next? You are mighty sollicitous, said he, about Pamela: But, no,
not I, let her go as soon as she will: She is a naughty Girl, and has brought
all this upon herself; and upon me more Trouble than she can have had from me;
but I have overcome it all; and will never concern myself about her.
    I have a Proposal made me, added he, since I have been out this Morning,
that I shall go near to embrace; and so wish only that a discreet Use may be
made of what is past; and there's an End of every thing with me, as to Pamela,
I'll assure you.
    I clasp'd my Hands together thro' my Apron, over-joy'd at this, tho' I was
so soon to go away: For, naughty as he has been to me, I wish his Prosperity
with all my Heart, for my good old Lady's sake.
    Well, Pamela, said he, you need not now be afraid to speak to me; tell me
what you lifted up your Hands at? I said not a Word. Says he, If you like what I
have said, give me your Hand upon it. I held my Hand thro' my Apron; for I could
not speak to him, and he took hold of it, and press'd it, tho' less hard than he
did my Arm the Day before. What does the little Fool cover her Face for, said
he? Pull your Apron away; and let me see how you look, after your Freedom of
Speech of me last Night! No wonder you're asham'd to see me. You know you were
very free with my Character.
    I could not stand this barbarous Insult, as I took it to be, considering his
Behaviour to me; and I then spoke, and said, O the Difference between the Minds
of thy Creatures, good God! How shall some be cast down in their Innocence,
while others shall triumph in their Guilt!
    And so saying, I went up Stairs to my Chamber, and wrote all this; for tho'
he vex'd me, at his Taunting, yet I was pleas'd to hear he was likely to be
marry'd, and that his wicked Intentions were so happily overcome as to me; and
this made me a little easier. And, I hope I have pass'd the worst; or else it is
very hard: And yet I shan't think my self at Ease quite, till I am with you. For
methinks, after all, his Repentance and Amendment are mighty suddenly resolve'd
upon. But God's Grace is not confine'd to Space; and Remorse may, and I hope has,
smote him to the Heart at once, for his Injuries to poor me! Yet I won't be too
secure neither.
    Having Opportunity, I send now what I know will grieve you to the Heart. But
I hope I shall bring my next Scribble myself; and so conclude, tho' half
broken-hearted,
                                                     Your ever dutiful Daughter.
 

                                 Letter XXVII.

Dear Father and Mother,
    I Am glad I desire'd you not to meet me, and John says you won't; for he
says, he told you, he is sure I shall get a Passage well enough, either behind
some one of my Fellow-servants on Horseback, or by Farmer Nichols's Means: But
as for the Chariot he talk'd to you of, I can't expect that Favour, to be sure;
and I should not care for it, because it would look so much above me. But Farmer
Brady, they say, has a Chaise with one Horse, and we hope to borrow that, or
hire it rather than fail; tho' Money runs a little lowish, after what I have
laid out; but I don't care to say so here, tho' I warrant I might have what I
would of Mrs. Jervis, or Mr. Jonathan, or Mr. Longman; but then how shall I pay
it, you'll say? And besides, I don't love to be beholden.
    But the chief Reason I am glad you don't set out to meet me is the
Uncertainty; for it seems I must stay another Week still, and hope certainly to
go Thursday after. For poor Mrs. Jervis will go at the same time, she says, and
can't be ready before.
    God send me with you! - Tho' he is very civil now, at present, and not so
cross as he was; and yet he is as vexatious another way, as you shall hear. For
Yesterday he had a rich Suit of clothes brought home, which they call a
Birth-day Suit; I for he intends to go to London against next Birth-day, to see
the Court, and our Folks will have it he is to be made a Lord. - I wish they may
make him an honest Man, as he was always thought; but I have not found it so,
God help me!
    And so, as I was saying, he had these clothes come home, and he try'd them
on. And before he pull'd them off, he sent for me, when nobody else was in the
Parlour with him: Pamela, said he, you are so neat and so nice in your own
Dress, (Alas! for me, I didn't know I was!) that you must be a Judge of ours.
How are these clothes made? Do they fit me! - I am no Judge, said I, and please
your Honour; but I think they look very fine.
    His Waistcoat stood an End with Gold Lace, and he look'd very grand. But
what he did last, has made me very serious, and I could make him no Compliments.
Said he, Why don't you wear your usual clothes? Tho' I think every thing looks
well upon you. For I still continue in my new Dress. I said, I have no clothes,
Sir, I ought to call my own, but these: And it is no Matter what such a one as I
wears! Says he, Why you look very serious, Pamela. I see you can bear Malice. -
Yes, so I can, Sir, said I, according to the Occasion! Why, said he, your Eyes
always look red, I think. Are you not a Fool to take my last Freedom so much to
Heart? I am sure you, and that Fool Mrs. Jervis, frightened me, by your hideous
Squalling, as much as I could frighten you. That is all we had for it, said I;
and if you could be so afraid of your own Servants knowing of your Attempts upon
a poor unworthy Creature, that is under your Protection while I stay, surely
your Honour ought to be more afraid of God Almighty, in whose Presence we all
stand, in every Action of our Lives, and to whom the greatest as well as the
least, must be accountable, let them think what they list.
    He took my Hand, in a kind of good-humour'd Mockery, and said, Well said, my
pretty Preacher! when my Lincolnshire Chaplain dies, I'll put thee on a Gown and
Cassock, and thou'lt make a good Figure in his Place! - I wish, said I, a little
vex'd at his Jeer, your Honour's Conscience would be your Preacher, and then you
would need no other Chaplain. Well, well, Pamela, said he, no more of this
unfashionable Jargon. I did not send for you so much for your Opinion of my new
Suit, as to tell you, you are welcome to stay, since Mrs. Jervis desires it,
till she goes. I welcome! said I; I am sure I shall rejoice when I am out of the
House!
    Well, said he, you are an ungrateful Baggage; but I am thinking it would be
Pity, with these fair soft Hands, and that lovely Skin (as he call'd it) that
you should return again to hard Work, as you must, if you go to your Father's;
and so I would advise her to take a House in London, and let Lodgings to us
Members of Parliament, when we come to Town, and such a pretty Daughter as you
may pass for, will always fill her House, and she'll get a great deal of Money.
    I was sadly vex'd at this barbarous Joke; but was ready to cry before, and I
gush'd out into Tears, and said, I can expect no better from such a rude
Gentleman! Your Behaviour, Sir, to me has been just of a Piece with these Words;
nay, I will say't tho' you was to be ever so angry. - I angry, Pamela, no, no,
said he, I have overcome all that; and as you are to go away, I look upon you
now as Mrs. Jervis's Guest, while you both stay, and not as my Servant, and so
you may say what you will. But I'll tell you, Pamela, why you need not take this
Matter in such high Disdain! - You have a very pretty romantic Turn for Virtue,
and all that! - And I don't suppose but you'll hold it still; and no body will
be able to prevail upon you. But, my Child, (fleeringly he spoke it) do but
consider what a fine Opportunity you will then have, for a Tale every Day to
good Mother Jervis, and what Subjects for Letter-writing to your Father and
Mother, and what pretty Preachments you may hold forth to the young Gentlemen.
Ad's my Heart, I think it would be the best Thing you and she could do.
    You do well, Sir, said I, to even your Wit to such a poor Maiden as me! But,
Sir, let me say, that if you was not rich and great, and I poor and little, you
would not insult me so in my Misery! - Let me ask you, Sir, if you think this
becomes your fine clothes! and a Master's Station? Why so serious, my pretty
Pamela? said he; why so grave? and would kiss me; but my Heart was full, and I
said, Let me alone! I will tell you, if you was a King, and said to me as you
have done, that you are no Gentleman: And I won't stay to be used thus! I will
go to the next Farmer's, and there wait for Mrs. Jervis, if she must go: And I'd
have you know, Sir, that I can stoop to the ordinary'st Work of your Scullions,
for all these nasty soft Hands, sooner than bear such ungentlemanly Imputations.
    Well, said he, I sent for you in, in high good Humour; but 'tis impossible
to hold it with such an Impertinent: However I'll keep my Temper. But while I
see you here, pray don't put on those dismal grave Looks: Why, Girl, you should
forbear 'em, if it were but for your Pride-sake; for the Family will think you
are grieving to leave the House. Then, Sir, said I, I will try to convince them
of the contrary, as well as your Honour; for I will endeavour to be more
cheerful while I stay, for that very Reason.
    Well, said he, I will set this down by itself, as the first Time that ever
what I advis'd had any Weight with you. And I hope, said I, as the first Advice
you have given me of late, that was fit to be follow'd! - I wish, said he, (I'm
almost asham'd to write it, impudent Gentleman as he is! I wish) I had thee as
quick another Way, as thou art in thy Repartees - And he laugh'd, and I tripp'd
away as fast as I could. Ah! thinks I, marry'd! I'm sure 'tis time you was
marry'd, or at this Rate no honest Maiden will live with you.
    Why, dear Father and Mother, to be sure he grows quite a Rake! Well, you
see, how easy it is to go from bad to worse, when once People give way to Vice!
    How would my poor Lady, had she liv'd, have grieve'd to see it! But may-be he
would have been better then! - Tho', it seems, he told Mrs. Jervis, he had an
Eye upon me in his Mother's Life-time; and he intended to let me know as much by
the Bye, he told her! Here's Shamelessness for you! - Sure the World must be
near an End! for all the Gentlemen about are as bad as he almost, as far as I
can hear! - And see the Fruits of such bad Examples: There is 'Squire Martin in
the Grove, has had three Lyings-in, it seems, in his House, in three Months
past, one by himself; and one by his Coachman; and one by his Woodman; and yet
he has turn'd none of them away. Indeed, how can he, when they but follow his
own vile Example. There is he, and two or three more such as he, within ten
Miles of us; who keep Company and hunt with our fine Master, truly; and I
suppose he's never the better for their Examples. But, God bless me, say I, and
send me out of this wicked House!
    But, dear Father and Mother, what Sort of Creatures must the Womenkind be,
do you think, to give way to such Wickedness? Why, this it is that makes every
one be thought of alike: And, alack-a-day! what a World we live in! for it is
grown more a Wonder that the Men are resisted, than that the Women comply. This,
I suppose, makes me such a Sawce-box, and Boldface, and a Creature; and all
because I won't be a Sawce-box and Boldface indeed.
    But I am sorry for these Things; one don't know what Arts and Stratagems
these Men may devise to gain their vile Ends; and so I will think as well as I
can of these poor Creatures, and pity them. For you see by my sad Story, and
narrow Escapes, what Hardships poor Maidens go thro', whose Lot is to go out to
Service; especially to Houses where there is not the Fear of God, and good Rule
kept by the Heads of the Family.
    You see I am quite grown grave and serious; so it becomes
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 

                                 Letter XXVIII.

Dear Father and Mother,
    John says you wept when you read my last Letters, that he carry'd. I am
sorry you let him see that; for they all mistrust already how Matters are; and
as it is no Credit, that I have been attempted; tho' it is that I have resisted;
yet I am sorry they have Cause to think so evil of my Master from any of us.
    Mrs. Jervis, has made up her Accounts with Mr. Longman; and I believe will
stay again. I am glad of it, for her own sake, and for my Master's; for she has
a good Master of him; so indeed all have, but poor me! - and he has a good
Housekeeper in her.
    Mr. Longman, it seems, took upon him to talk to my Master, how faithful and
careful of his Interests she was, and how exact in her Accounts; and he told
him, there was no Comparison between her Accounts and Mrs. Jewkes's, at the
Lincolnshire Estate. He said so many fine Things, it seems, of Mrs. Jervis, that
my Master sent for her in Mr. Longman's Presence, and said, I might come along
with her: I suppose to mortify me, that I must go while she was to stay: But as,
when I go away, I am not to go with her, nor she with me; so I did not matter it
much; only it would have been creditable to such a poor Girl, that the
House-keeper would bear me Company, if I went.
    Said he, to her, Well Mrs. Jervis, Mr. Longman says you have made up your
Accounts with him, with your usual Fidelity and Exactness. I had a good mind to
make you an Offer of continuing with me, if you can be a little sorry for your
hasty Words, which indeed were not so respectful as I have deserve'd at your
Hands. She seem'd at a sad Loss what to say, because Mr. Longman was there, and
she could not speak of the Occasion of those Words, which was me.
    Indeed, said Mr. Longman, I must needs say before your Face, that since I
have known my Master's Family, I have never found such good Management, and so
much Love and Harmony too. I wish the Lincolnshire Estate was as well serve'd! -
No more of that, said my Master; but Mrs. Jervis may stay, if she will; and
here, Mrs. Jervis, pray accept of this, which at the Close of every Year's
Account I will present you with, besides your Salary, as long as I find your
Care so useful and agreeable. And he gave her five Guineas! - She made him a low
Curchee, and pray'd God to bless him; and look'd to me, as if she would have
spoken of me.
    He took her Meaning, I believe; for he said, - Indeed I love to encourage
Merit and Obligingness, Mr. Longman; but I can never be equally kind to those
who don't deserve it at my Hands; and then he look'd full at me; Mr. Longman,
continued he, I said that Girl might come in with Mrs. Jervis; because they love
to be always together. For Mrs. Jervis is very good to her, as if she was her
Daughter. But else - Mr. Longman, interrupting him, said, Good to Mrs. Pamela!
Aye, Sir, and so she is, to be sure! But every body must be good to her, -
    He was going on. But my Master said, No more, no more, Mr. Longman. I see
old Men are taken with pretty young Girls, as well as other Folks; and fair
Looks hide many a Fault, where a Person has the Art to behave obligingly. Why,
and please your Honour, said Mr. Longman, every body - and was going on, I
believe to say something more in my Praise; but he interrupted him, and said,
Not a Word more of this Pamela. I can't let her stay, I'll assure you; not only
for her own Freedom of Speech; but her Letter-writing of all the Secrets of my
Family. Aye, said the good old Man! I'm sorry for that too! But Sir, - No more,
I say, said my Master; for my Reputation's so well known (mighty fine, thought
I!) that I care not what any body writes or says of me: But to tell you the
Truth, not that it need go further, I think of changing my Condition soon; and,
you know, young Ladies of Birth and Fortune will choose their own Servants, and
that's my chief Reason why Pamela can't stay. As for the rest, said he, the Girl
is a good sort of Body, take her all together; tho' I must needs say, a little
pert, since my Mother's Death, in her Answers, and gives me two Words for one;
which I can't bear; nor is there Reason I should, says he, you know, Mr.
Longman. No, to be sure, Sir, said he; but 'tis strange methinks, she should be
so mild and meek to every one of us in the House, and forget herself so where
she should show most Respect! Very true, Mr. Longman, said he, I'll assure you;
and it was from her Pertness that Mrs. Jervis and I had the Words: And I should
mind it the less; but that the Girl (there she stands, I say it to her Face)!
has Wit and Sense above her Years, and knows better.
    I was in great Pain to say something; but yet I knew not what, before Mr.
Longman; and Mrs. Jervis, look'd at me, and walk'd to the Window to hide her
Concern for me. At last, I said, It is for You, Sir, to say what you please; and
for me only to say, God bless your Honour!
    Poor Mr. Longman falter'd in his Speech, and was ready to cry. Said my
insulting Master to me; why pr'ythee, Pamela, now, show thy self as thou art,
before Mr. Longman. Canst not give him a Specimen of that Pertness which thou
hast exercis'd upon me sometimes? Did not he, my dear Father and Mother, deserve
all the Truth to be told; yet I overcame myself, so far, as to say, Well, your
Honour may play upon a poor Girl, that you know can answer you, but dare not.
Why pr'ythee now, Insinuator, said he, say the worst you can before Mr. Longman
and Mrs. Jervis! - I challenge the utmost of thy Impertinence; and as you are
going away, and have the Love of every body, I would be a little justify'd to my
Family, that you have no Reason to complain of Hardships from me, as I have of
pert saucy Answers from you, besides exposing me by your Letters.
    Well, Sir, said I, I am of no Consequence equal to this, sure, in your
Honour's Family, that such a great Gentleman as you, my Master, should need to
justify yourself about me. I am glad Mrs. Jervis stays with your Honour; and I
know I have not deserve'd to stay; and more than that, I don't desire to stay.
    Ads-bobbers! said Mr. Longman, and ran to me; don't say so, don't say so,
dear Mrs. Pamela! We all love you dearly; and pray down of your Knees, and ask
his Honour Pardon, and we will all become Pleaders in a Body, and I, and Mrs.
Jervis too, at the Head of it, to beg his Honour's Pardon, and to continue you,
at least till his Honour marries. - No, Mr. Longman, said I, I cannot ask; nor
will I stay, if I might. All I desire is to return to my poor Father and Mother,
and tho' I love you all, I won't stay; - O well-a-day, well-a-day! said the good
old Man, I did not expect this! - When I had got Matters thus far, and had made
all up for Mrs. Jervis, I was in Hopes to have got a double Holiday of Joy for
all the Family, in your Pardon too. Well, said my Master, this is a little
Specimen of what I told you, Mr. Longman. You see there's a Spirit you did not
expect.
    Mrs. Jervis told me after, that she could stay no longer to hear me so
hardly used, and must have spoke, had she stay'd, what would never have been
forgiven her; so she went out. I look'd after her to go too; but my Master said,
Come, Pamela, give another Specimen, I desire you, to Mr. Longman: I am sure you
must, if you will but speak. Well, Sir, said I, since it seems your Greatness
wants to be justified by my Lowness, and I have no Desire you should suffer in
the Sight of your Family, I will say, on my bended Knees (and so I kneeled down)
that I have been a very faulty, and a very ingrateful Creature to the best of
Masters! I have been very perverse, and saucy; and have deserve'd nothing at your
Hands, but to be turn'd out of your Family with Shame and Disgrace. I,
therefore, have nothing to say for myself, but that I am not worthy to stay, and
so cannot wish to stay, and will not stay: And so God Almighty bless you, Sir,
and you, Mr. Longman, and good Mrs. Jervis, and every living Soul of the Family!
and I will pray for you all as long as I live. - And so I rose up, and was
force'd to lean upon my Master's Elbow Chair, or I should have sunk down.
    The poor old Man wept more than I, and said, Ads-bobbers! was ever the like
heard! 'Tis too much, too much; I can't bear it. As I hope to live, I am quite
melted. Dear Sir, forgive her: The poor Thing prays for you; she prays for us
all! She owns her Fault; yet won't be forgiven! I profess I know not what to
make of it.
    My Master himself, harden'd Wretch as he was, seem'd a little mov'd, and
took his Handkerchief out of his Pocket, and walk'd to the Window: What Sort of
a Day is it, said he? - And then getting a little more Hard-heartedness, he
said, Well, you may be gone from my Presence, thou strange Medley of
Inconsistence! but you shan't stay after your Time in the House.
    Nay, pray Sir, pray Sir, said the good old Man, relent a little!
Adsheartlikins, you young Gentlemen are made of Iron and Steel, I think: I'm
sure, said he, my Heart's turn'd into Butter, and is running away at my Eyes. I
never felt the like before. - Said my Master, with an imperious Tone, Get out of
my Presence, Hussy, I can't bear you in my Sight. Sir, said I, I'm going as fast
as I can.
    But indeed, my dear Father and Mother, my Head was so giddy, and my Limbs
trembled so, that I was force'd to go holding by the Wainscot all the way, with
both my Hands, and thought I should not have got to the Door: But when I did, as
I hop'd this would be my last Interview with this terrible hard-hearted Master;
I turn'd about, and made a low Curchee, and said, God bless you, Sir! God bless
you, Mr. Longman! And I went into the Lobby leading to the great Hall, and dropped
into the first Chair; for I could get no further a good while.
    I leave all these Things to your Reflection, my dear Parents; but I can
write no more. My poor Heart's almost broke! Indeed it is. - O when shall I get
away! - Send me, good God, in Safety, once to my poor Father's peaceful Cot! -
and there the worst that can happen will be Joy in Perfection to what I now
bear! - O pity
                                                       Your distressed Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XXIX.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I must write on, tho' I shall come so soon; for now I have hardly any thing
else to do. For I have finish'd all that lay upon me to do, and only wait the
good Time of setting out. Mrs. Jervis said, I must be low in Pocket, for what I
had laid out; and so would have presented me with two Guineas of her Five; but I
could not take them of her, because, poor Gentlewoman! she pays old Debts for
her Children that were extravagant, and wants them herself. This, tho', was very
good in her.
    I am sorry, I shall have but little to bring with me; but I know you won't;
you are so good! - and I will work the harder when I come home, if I can get a
little Plain-work, or any thing to do. But all your Neighbourhood is so poor,
that I fear I shall want Work; but may-be Dame Mumford can help me to something,
from some good Family she is acquainted with.
    Here, what a sad Thing it is! I have been brought up wrong, as Matters
stand. For, you know, my Lady, now with God, love'd Singing and Dancing; and, as
she would have it I had a Voice, she made me learn both; and often and often has
she made me sing her an innocent Song, and a good Psalm too, and dance before
her. And I must learn to flower and draw too, and to work fine Work with my
Needle; why, all this too I have got pretty tolerably at my Finger's End, as
they say, and she us'd to praise me, and was a good Judge of such Matters.
    Well now, what is all this to the Purpose, as Things have turn'd about?
    Why, no more nor less, than that I am like the Grashopper in the Fable,
which I have read of in my Lady's Books; and I will write it down, in the very
Words.
 
        »As the Ants were airing their Provisions one Winter, a hungry
        Grashopper (as suppose it was poor I!) begg'd a Charity of them. They
        told him, that he should have wrought in Summer, if he would not have
        wanted in Winter. Well, says the Grashopper, but I was not idle neither;
        for I sung out the whole Season. Nay, then, said they, you'll e'en do
        well to make a merry Year of it, and dance in Winter to the Tune you
        sung in Summer.«
 
So I shall make a fine Figure with my Singing and my Dancing when I come home to
you. Nay, even I shall be unfit for a May-day Holiday-time; for these Minuets,
Rigadoons, and French Dances, that I have been practising, will make me but ill
Company for my rural Milkmaid Companions that are to be. Be sure I had better,
as Things stand, have learn'd to wash and scour, and brew and bake, and
such-like. But I hope, if I can't get Work, and can get a Place, to learn these
soon, if any body will have the Goodness to bear with me, till I can learn. For
I bless God! I have an humble, and a teachable Mind, for all what my Master
says; and, next to his Grace, that is all my Comfort: For I shall think nothing
too mean that is honest. It may be a little hard at first, but woe to my proud
Heart, if I shall find it so, on Tryal! for I will make it bend to its
Condition, or will break it.
    I have read of a good Bishop that was to be burnt for his Religion; and he
try'd how he could bear it, by putting his Fingers into the lighted Candle: So
I, t'other Day, try'd, when Rachel's Back was turn'd, if I could not scour the
Pewter Plate she had begun. I see I could do't by Degrees; tho' I blister'd my
Hand in two Places.
    All the Matter is, if I could get Needle-work enough, I would not spoil my
Fingers by this rough Work. But if I can't, I hope to make my Hands as red as a
Blood-pudden, and as hard as a Beechen Trencher, to accommodate them to my
Condition. - But I must break off, here's some-body coming! -
 
'Twas only our Hannah with a Message from Mrs. Jervis! - But, good Sirs, there
is some body else! - Well, it is only Rachel. I am as much frighted as were the
City Mouse and the Country Mouse in the same Book of Fables, at every thing that
stirs. Oh! I have a Power of these Things to entertain you with in Winter
Evenings, when I come home. If I can but get Work, with a little Time for
reading, I hope we shall be very happy, over our Peat Fires!
    What made me hint to you, that I should bring but little with me, is this.
 
You must know, I did intend to do, as I have this Afternoon done: And that is, I
took all my clothes, and all my Linen, and I divided them into three Parcels;
and I said, It is now Monday, Mrs. Jervis, and I am to go away on Thursday
Morning betimes; so, tho' I know you don't doubt my Honesty, I beg you will look
over my poor Matters, and let every one have what belongs to them; for, said I,
you know, I am resolve'd to take with me only what I can properly call my own.
    Said she, (I did not know her Drift then; to be sure, she meant well; but I
did not thank her for it, when I did know it) Let your Things be brought down
into the green Room, and I will do any thing you would have me do.
    With all my Heart, said I, green Room or any where; but I think you might
step up, and see 'em as they lie.
    However, I fetch'd 'em down, and laid them in three Parcels, as before; and,
when I had done, I went down to call her up to look at them.
    Now, it seems, she had prepare'd my Master for this Scene, unknown to me; and
in this green Room was a Closet, with a Sash-door and a Curtain before it; for
there she puts her Sweet-meats and such Things; and she did it, it seems, to
turn his Heart, as knowing what I intended, I suppose that he should make me
take the Things; and if he had, I should have made Money of them, to help us
when we got together; for, to be sure, I could never have appear'd in them.
    Well, as I was saying, he had got unknown to me in this Closet; I suppose
while I went to call Mrs. Jervis: And she since told me, it was at his Desire,
when she told him something of what I intended, or else she would not have done
it. Tho' I have Reason, I am sure, to remember the last Closet-work!
    So I said, when she came up, Here, Mrs. Jervis, is the first Parcel; I will
spread it all abroad. These are the Things my good Lady gave me. - In the first
place, said I, - and so I went on describing the clothes and Linen my Lady had
given me, mingling Blessings, as I proceeded, for her Goodness to me; and when I
had turn'd over that Parcel, I said, Well, so much for the first Parcel, Mrs.
Jervis, that was my Lady's Presents.
    Now I come to the Presents of my dear virtuous Master: Hay, you know, Closet
for that, Mrs. Jervis! She laugh'd, and said, I never saw such a comical Girl in
my Life. But go on. I will, Mrs. Jervis, said I, as soon as I have open'd the
Bundle; for I was as brisk and as pert as could be, little thinking who heard
me.
    Now here, Mrs. Jervis, said I, are my ever worthy Master's Presents; and
then I particulariz'd all those in the second Bundle.
    After which, I turn'd to my own, and said,
    Now, Mrs. Jervis, comes poor Pamela's Bundle, and a little one it is, to the
others. First, here is a Calicoe Night-gown, that I used to wear o' Mornings.
'Twill be rather too good for me when I get home; but I must have something.
Then there is a quilted Callimancoe Coat, and a Pair of Stockens I bought of the
Pedlar, and my Straw-hat with blue Strings; and a Remnant of Scots Cloth, which
will make two Shirts and two Shifts, the same I have on, for my poor Father and
Mother. And here are four other Shifts, one the Fellow to that I have on;
another pretty good one, and the other two old fine ones, that will serve me to
turn and wind with at home, for they are not worth leaving behind me; and here
are two Pair of Shoes, I have taken the Lace off, which I will burn, and may-be
will fetch me some little Matter at a Pinch, with an old Shoe-buckle or two.
    What do you laugh for, Mrs. Jervis? said I. - Why you are like an April-day;
you cry and laugh in a Breath.
    Well, let me see; aye, here is a Cotton Handkerchief I bought of the Pedlar;
there should be another somewhere. O here it is! And here too are my new-bought
knit Mittens. And this is my new Flannel Coat, the Fellow to that I have on. And
in this Parcel pinn'd together, are several Pieces of printed Callicoe, Remnants
of Silks, and such-like, that, if good Luck should happen, and I should get
Work, would serve for Robings and Facings, and such-like Uses. And here too are
a Pair of Pockets; they are too fine for me; but I have no worse. Bless me! said
I, I didn't think I had so many good Things!
 
Well, Mrs. Jervis, said I, you have seen all my Store, and I will now sit down,
and tell you a Piece of my Mind.
    Be brief then, said she, my good Girl; for she was afraid, she said
afterwards, that I should say too much.
 
Why then the Case is this: I am to enter upon a Point of Equity and Conscience,
Mrs. Jervis, and I must beg, if you love me, you'd let me have my own Way. Those
Things there of my Lady's, I can have no Claim to, so as to take them away; for
she gave them me, supposing I was to wear them in her Service, and to do Credit
to her bountiful Heart. But since I am to be turn'd away, you know, I cannot
wear them at my poor Father's; for I should bring all the little Village upon my
Back: And so I resolve not to have them.
    Then, Mrs. Jervis, said I, I have far less Rights to these of my worthy
Master's. For you see what was his Intention in giving them to me. So they were
to be the Price of my Shame, and if I could make use of them, I should think I
should never prosper with them; and besides, you know, Mrs. Jervis, if I would
not do the good Gentleman's Work, why should I take his Wages? So in Conscience,
in Honour, in every thing, I have nothing to say to thee, thou second wicked
Bundle!
    But, said I, come to my Arms, my dear third Parcel, the Companion of my
Poverty, and the Witness of my Honesty; and may I never deserve the least Rag
that is contained in thee, when I forfeit a Title to that Innocence that I hope
will ever be the Pride of my Life; and then I am sure it will be my highest
Comfort at my Death, when all the Riches and Pomps of the World will be worse
than the vilest Rags that can be worn by Beggars! And so I hugg'd my third
Bundle. -
    But, said I, Mrs. Jervis, (and she wept to hear me) one thing I have more to
trouble you with, and that's all.
    There are four Guineas, you know, that came out of my good Lady's Pocket,
when she dy'd, that, with some Silver, my Master gave me: Now those same four
Guineas I sent to my poor Father and Mother, and they have broke them; but would
make them up, if I would. And if you think it should be so, it shall. But pray
tell me honestly your Mind: As to the three Years before my Lady's Death, do you
think, as I had no Wages, I may be supposed to be Quits? - By Quits, I cannot
mean, that my poor Services should be equal to my Lady's Goodness; for that's
impossible. But as all her Learning and Education of me, as Matters have turn'd,
will be of little Service to me now; for it had been better for me to have been
brought up to hard Labour, to be sure; for that I must turn to at last, if I
can't get a Place; (and you know, in Places too, one is subject to such
Temptations as are dreadful to think of): So I say, by Quits, I only mean, as I
return all the good Things she gave me, whether I may not set my little Services
against my Keeping; because, as I said, my Learning is not now in the Question;
and I am sure my dear good Lady would have thought so, had she liv'd: But that,
too, is now out of the Question. Well then, if so, I would ask, whether in above
this Year that I have liv'd with my Master; as I am resolve'd to leave all his
Gifts behind me, I may not have earn'd besides my Keeping, these four Guineas;
and these poor clothes here upon my Back, and in my third Bundle? Now tell me
your Mind freely, without Favour or Affection.
 
Alas! my dear Maiden, said she, you make me unable to speak to you at all: To be
sure, it will be the highest Affront that can be offer'd, for you to leave any
of these Things behind you; and you must take all your Bundles with you, or my
Master will never forgive you.
    Well, well, Mrs. Jervis, said I, I don't care; I have been too much used to
be snubb'd and hardly treated by my Master: Of late I have done him no Harm; and
I shall always pray for him, and wish him happy. But I don't deserve these
Things, I know I don't. Then I can't wear 'em, if I should take them; so they
can be of no use to me: And I trust God will provide for me, and not let me want
the poor Pittance, that is all I desire, to keep Life and Soul together. Bread
and Water I can live upon, Mrs. Jervis, with Content. Water I shall get
any-where; and if I can't get me Bread, I will live like a Bird in Winter upon
Hips and Haws, and at other times upon Pig-nuts, and Potatoes or Turneps, or any
thing. So what Occasion have I for these Things? - But all I ask is about these
four Guineas, and if you think I need not return them, that is all I want to
know? - To be sure, my Dear, you need not, said she, you have well earn'd them
by that Waistcoat only. No, I think not so, in that only; but in the Linen, and
other Things, do you think I have? Yes, yes, said she, and more. And my Keeping
allow'd for, I mean, said I, and these poor clothes on my Back, besides?
remember that Mrs. Jervis. Yes, my dear Odd-ones, no doubt you have! Well then,
said I, I am as happy as a Princess. I am quite as rich as I wish to be! And,
once more, my dear third Bundle, I will hug thee to my Bosom. And I beg you'll
say nothing of all this till I am gone, that my Master mayn't be so angry, but
that I may go in Peace; for my Heart, without other Matters, will be ready to
break to part with you all.
    Now, Mrs. Jervis, said I, as to one Matter more: And that is my Master's
last Usage of me, before Mr. Longman. - Said she, Pr'ythee, dear Pamela, step to
my Chamber, and fetch me a Paper I left on my Table. I have something to show
you in it. I will, said I, and stepped down; but this was only a Fetch to take the
Orders of my Master, I found; it seems he said, he thought two or three times to
have burst out upon me; but he could not stand it, and wish'd I might not know
he was there. But I tript up again so nimbly, for there was no Paper, that I
just saw his Back, as if coming out of that green Room, and going into the next
to it, the first Door, that was open. - I whipped in, and shut the Door, and
bolted it. O Mrs. Jervis, said I, what have you done by me? - I see I can
confide in nobody. I am beset on all Hands! Wretched, wretched Pamela! where
shalt thou expect a Friend, if Mrs. Jervis joins to betray me thus? - She made
so many Protestations, telling me all; and that he own'd I had made him wipe his
Eyes two or three times, and said she hop'd it would have a good Effect, and
remember'd me, that I had said nothing but would rather move Compassion than
Resentment, that I forgave her. But oh! that I was safe from this House! for
never poor Creature sure was so fluster'd as I have been, for so many Months
together! - I am called down from this most tedious Scribble. I wonder what will
next befall
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 
Mrs. Jervis says, she is sure I shall have the Chariot to carry me home to you.
Tho' this will look too great for me, yet it will show as if I was not turn'd
away quite in Disgrace. The travelling Chariot is come from Lincolnshire, and I
fancy I shall go in that; for the other is quite grand.
 

                                  Letter XXX.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I Write again, tho', may-be, I shall bring it to you in my Pocket myself.
For I shall have no Writing, nor Writing-time, I hope, when I come to you. This
is Wednesday Morning, and I shall, I hope, set out to you To-morrow Morning; but
I have had more Trials, and more Vexation; but of another Complexion too a
little, tho' all from the same Quarter.
    Yesterday my Master, after he came from Hunting, sent for me. I went with
great Terror; for I expected he would storm, and be in a fine Passion with me
for my Freedom of Speech before: So I was resolve'd to begin first, with
Submission, to disarm his Anger; and I fell upon my Knees as soon as I saw him;
and I said, For God's Sake, good Sir, and for the Sake of my dear good Lady your
Mother, who recommended me to you with her last Words, let me beg you to forgive
me all my Faults, as you hope to be forgiven yourself: And only grant me this
Favour, the last I have to ask you, that you will let me depart your House with
Peace and Quietness of Mind, that I may take such a Leave of my dear
Fellow-servants as befits me; and that my Heart be not quite broken.
    He took me up, in a kinder Manner, than ever I had known from him; and he
said, Shut the Door, Pamela, and come to me in my Closet: I want to have a
little serious Talk with you. How can I, Sir, said I, how can I? and wrung my
Hands! O pray, Sir, let me go out of your Presence, I beseech you. By the God
that made me, said he, I'll do you no Harm. Shut the Parlour Door, and come to
me in my Library.
    He then went into his Closet, which is his Library, and full of rich
Pictures besides, a noble Apartment, tho' called a Closet, and next the private
Garden, into which it has a Door that opens. I shut the Parlour Door, as he bid
me; but stood at it irresolute. Place some Confidence in me surely, said he, you
may, when I have spoken thus solemnly. So I crept towards him with trembling
Feet, and my Heart throbbing thro' my Handkerchief. Come in, said he, when I bid
you. I did so. Pray, Sir, said I, pity and spare me. I will, said he, as I hope
to be save'd. He sat down upon a rich Settee; and took hold of my Hand, and said,
Don't doubt me, Pamela. From this Moment, I will no more consider you as my
Servant; and I desire you'll not use me with Ingratitude for the Kindness I am
going to express towards you. This a little embolden'd me; and he said, holding
both my Hands in his, You have too much Wit and good Sense not to discover that
I, in spite of my Heart, and all the Pride of it, cannot but love you. Yes, look
up to me, my sweet- Girl! I must say I love you; and have put on a Behaviour to
you, that was much against my Heart, in hopes to frighten you to my Purposes.
You see I own it ingenuously; and don't play your Sex upon me for it.
    I was unable to speak, and he saw me too much oppress'd with Confusion to go
on in that Strain; and he said, Well, Pamela, let me know in what Situation of
Life is your Father; I know he is a poor Man; but is he as low and as honest as
he was when my Mother took you?
    Then I could speak a little; and with a down Look, (and I felt my Face glow
like Fire) I said, Yes, Sir, as poor and as honest too; and that is my Pride.
Says he, I will do something for him, if it be not your Fault, and make all your
Family happy. Ah! Sir, said I, he is happier already than ever he can be, if his
Daughter's Innocence is to be the Price of your Favour. And I beg you will not
speak to me on the only Side than can wound me. I have no Design of that sort,
said he. O Sir, said I, tell me not so, tell me not so! - 'Tis easy, said he,
for me to be the Making of your Father, without injuring you. Well, Sir, said I,
if this can be done, let me know how; and all I can do with Innocence shall be
the Study and Practice of my Life. - But Oh! what can such a poor Creature as I
do, and do my Duty? - Said he, I would have you stay a Week or Fortnight only,
and behave yourself with Kindness to me: I stoop to beg it of you, and you shall
see all shall turn out beyond your Expectation. I see, said he, you are going to
answer otherwise than I would have you; and I begin to be vex'd I should thus
meanly sue; and so I will say, that your Behaviour before honest Longman, when I
used you as I did, and you could so well have vindicated yourself, has quite
charm'd me. And tho' I am not pleased with all you said Yesterday while I was in
the Closet, yet you have mov'd me more to admire you than before; and I am
awaken'd to see more Worthiness in you than ever I saw in any Lady in the World.
All the Servants, from the highest to the lowest, dote upon you, instead of
envying you; and look upon you in so superior a Light, as speaks what you ought
to be. I have seen more of your Letters than you imagine, (This Surprise'd me!)
and am quite overcome with your charming manner of Writing, so free, so easy,
and so much above your Sex; and all put together, makes me, as I tell you, love
you to Extravagance. Now, Pamela, when I have stoop'd so low as to acknowledge
all this, oblige me only to stay another Week or Fortnight, to give me Time to
bring about some certain Affairs; and you shall see how much you shall find your
Account in it.
    I trembled to find my poor Heart giving way! - O good Sir, said I, pray your
Honour, spare a poor Maiden, that cannot look up to you, and speak. My Heart is
full! And why should you wish to undo me! - Only oblige me, said he, to stay a
Fortnight longer, and John shall carry word to your Father, that I will see him
in the Time, either here or at the Swan in his Village. O my Heart will burst,
said I! but, on my bended Knees, I beg you, Sir, to let me go to-morrow, as I
design'd! And don't offer to tempt a poor Creature, whose whole Will would be to
do yours, if my Virtue and my Duty would permit. - They will, they shall permit
it, said he; for I intend no injury to you, God is my Witness! -- Impossible,
said I; I cannot, Sir, believe you after what has pass'd! How many Ways are
there to undo poor Creatures! Good God, protect me this one time, and send me
but to my dear Father's Cot in Safety! -- Strange, damn'd Fate! says he, that
when I speak so solemnly, I can't be believe'd! - What should I believe, Sir?
said I; what can I believe? What have you said, but that I am to stay a
Fortnight longer? and what then is to become of me! -- My Pride of Birth and
Fortune, (damn them both! said he, since they cannot obtain Credit with you, but
must add to your Suspicions) will not let me stoop at once; and I ask you but
for a Fortnight's Stay, that after this Declaration, I may pacify those proud
Demands upon me.
    O how my Heart throbbed! and I begun, for I did not know what I did, to say
the Lord's Prayer. None of your Beads to me, Pamela, said he, thou art a perfect
Nun, I think.
    But I said aloud, with my Eyes lifted up to Heaven, Lead me not into
Temptation. But deliver me from Evil, O my good God! -- He hugg'd me in his
Arms, and said, Well, my dear Girl, then you stay this Fortnight, and you shall
see what I will do for you. - I'll leave you a Moment, and walk into the next
Room, to give you Time to think of it, that you shall see I have no Design upon
you. Well, this, I thought, did not look amiss.
 
He went out, and I was tortur'd with twenty different Thoughts in a Minute;
sometimes I thought, that to stay a Week or Fortnight longer in this House to
obey him, while Mrs. Jervis was with me, could do no great Harm: But then,
thinks I, how do I know what I may be able to do? I have withstood his Anger;
but may I not relent at his Kindness? - How shall I stand that! - Well, I hope,
thought I, by the same protecting Grace in which I will always confide! - But
then, what has he promised? - Why he will make my poor Father and Mother's Life
comfortable. O, said I to myself, that is a rich Thought; but let me not dwell
upon it, for fear I should indulge it to my Ruin. - What can he do for me, poor
Girl as I am! - What can his Greatness stoop to! He talks, thought I, of his
Pride of Heart, and Pride of Condition; O these are in his Head, and in his
Heart too, or he would not confess them to me at such an Instant. Well then,
thought I, this can be only to seduce me! - He has promise'd nothing. - But I am
to see what he will do, if I stay a Fortnight; and this Fortnight, thought I
again, is no such great Matter; and I shall see, in a few Days, how he carries
it. - But then, when I again reflected upon the Distance between us, and his now
open Declaration of Love, as he called it, and that after this he would talk
with me on that Subject more plainly than ever, and I should be less arm'd, may
be, to withstand him; and then I bethought myself, why, if he meant no
Dishonour, he should not speak before Mrs. Jervis; and the odious frightful
Closet came again into my Head, and my narrow Escape upon it; and how easy it
might be for him to send Mrs. Jervis and the Maids out of the way; and so that
all the Mischief he design'd me might be brought about in less than that Time; I
resolved to go away, and trust all to Providence, and nothing to myself. And O
how ought I to bless God for this Resolution! as you shall hear.
 
But just as I have writ to this Place, John sends me word, that he is going this
Minute your way; and so I will send so far as I have written, and hope, by
to-morrow Night, to ask your Blessings, at your own poor, but happy Abode, and
tell you the rest by word of Mouth; and so I rest, till then, and for ever,
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 

                                  Letter XXXI.

My dear Father and Mother,
    I Will continue my Writing still, because, may-be, I shall like to read it,
when I am with you, to see what Dangers God has enabled me to escape; and tho' I
bring it in my Pocket.
    I told you my Resolution, my happy Resolution, which, to be sure God
inspired me with. And just then he came in again, with great Kindness in his
Looks, and said, I make no doubt, Pamela, you will stay this Fortnight to oblige
me. I knew not how to frame my Words so as to deny, and yet not make him storm.
But, said I, Forgive, Sir, your poor distressed Maiden. I know I cannot possibly
deserve any Favour at your Hands, consistent with my Honesty; and I beg you will
let me go to my poor Father. Why, said he, thou art the veriest Fool that I ever
knew. I tell you I will see your Father; I'll send for him here to-morrow, in my
Travelling Chariot, if you will; and I'll let him know what I intend to do for
him and you. What, Sir, may I ask you, can that be? Your Honour's noble Estate
may easily make him happy, and not unuseful perhaps to you in some respect or
other. But what Price am I to pay for all this? - You shall be happy as you can
wish, said he, I do assure you: And here I will now give you this Purse, in
which are Fifty Guineas, which I will allow your Father yearly, and find an
Employ suitable to his Liking, to deserve that and more: Pamela, he shall never
want, depend upon it. I would have given you still more for him; but that
perhaps you'd suspect I intended it as a Design upon you. - O Sir, said I, take
back your Guineas, I will not touch one, nor will my Father, I am sure, till he
knows what is to be done for them; and particularly what is to become of me. Why
then, Pamela, said he, suppose I find a Man of Probity and genteel Calling for a
Husband for you, that shall make you a Gentlewoman as long as you live? - I want
no Husband, Sir, said I; for now I begun to see him in all his black Colours! -
But being in his Power so, I thought I would a little dissemble. But, said he,
you are so pretty, that go where you will, you will never be free from the
Designs of some or other of our Sex; and I shall think I don't answer the Care
of my dying Mother for you, who committed you to me, if I don't provide you a
Husband, to protect your Virtue and your Innocence; and a worthy one I have
thought of for you.
    O black, perfidious Creature, thought I! what an Implement art thou in the
Hands of Lucifer, to ruin the innocent Heart! - But still I dissembled; for I
fear'd much both him and the Place I was in. But who, pray Sir, have you thought
of? - Why, said he, young Mr. Williams, my Chaplain in Lincolnshire, who will
make you happy. Does he know, Sir, said I, any thing of your Honour's
Intentions? - No, my Girl, said he, and kissed me (much against my Will; for his
very Breath was now Poison to me!) but his Dependence on my Favour and your
Beauty and Merit, will make him rejoice at my Goodness to him. - Well, Sir, said
I, then it is time enough to consider of this Matter; and this cannot hinder me
from going to my Father's: For what will staying a Fortnight longer signify to
this? Your Honour's Care and Goodness may extend to me there as well as here;
and Mr. Williams, and all the World, shall know that I am not ashamed of my
Father's Poverty.
    He would kiss me again, and I said, If I am to think of Mr. Williams, or any
body else, I beg you'll not be so free with me: That is not pretty I'm sure.
Well, said he, but you stay this next Fortnight, and in that time I'll have both
Williams and your Father here; for I will have the Match concluded in my House;
and when I have brought it on, you shall settle it as you please together. Mean
time take and send only these Fifty Pieces to your Father, as an Earnest of my
Favour, and I'll make you all happy. - Sir, said I, I beg at least two Hours to
consider of this. I shall, said he, be gone out in one Hour, and I would have
you write to your Father, what I propose, and John shall carry it on purpose;
and he shall carry the Purse with him for the good old Man, if you approve it.
Sir, said I, I will let you know in one Hour then my Resolution. Do so, said he;
and gave me another Kiss, and let me go.
    O how I rejoiced I had got out of his Clutches! - So I write you this, that
you may see how Matters stand; for I am resolve'd to come away, if possible.
Base, wicked, treacherous Gentleman, as he is!
    So here was a Trap laid for your poor Pamela! I tremble to think of it! - O
what a Scene of Wickedness was here laid down for all my wretched Life.
Black-hearted Wretch! How I hate him! - For at first, as you'll see by what I
have written, he would have made me believe other things; and this of Mr.
Williams, I believe, came into his Head after he walked out from his Closet, as
I suppose, to give himself time to think, as well as me, how to delude me
better: But the Covering was now too thin, and easy to be seen through.
    I went to my Chamber, and the first thing I did, was to write to him; for I
thought it was best not to see him again, if I could help it; and I put it under
his Parlour-door, after I had copy'd it, as follows:
 
        »Honour'd Sir,
            Your last Proposal to me, convinces me, that I ought not to stay;
        but to go to my Father, if it were but to ask his Advice about Mr.
        Williams. And I am so set upon it, that I am not to be persuaded. So,
        honour'd Sir, with a thousand Thanks for all Favours, I will set out
        to-morrow early; and the Honour you design'd me, as Mrs. Jervis tells
        me, of your Chariot, there will be no Occasion for; because I can hire,
        I believe, Farmer Brady's Chaise. So begging you will not take it amiss,
        I shall ever be
                                                           Your dutiful Servant.
 
As to the Purse, Sir, my poor Father, to be sure, won't forgive me, if I take
it, till he can know how to deserve it. Which is impossible.«
 
So he has since sent Mrs. Jervis to tell me, that since I am resolve'd to go, go
I may, and the Travelling Chariot shall be ready; but it shall be worse for me;
for that he will never trouble himself about me as long as he lives. Well, so I
get out of the House, I care not; only I should have been glad I could, with
Innocence, have made you, my poor Parents, happy.
    I cannot imagine the Reason of it, but John, who I thought was gone with my
last, is but now going; and he sends to know if I have any thing else to carry.
So I break off to send you this with the former.
    I am now preparing for my Journey; and about taking Leave of my good
Fellow-servants. And if I have not time to write, I must tell you the rest, when
I am so happy as to be with you.
    One Word more, I slip in a Paper of Verses, on my going; sad poor Stuff! but
as they come from me, you'll not dislike them, may-be. I show'd them to Mrs.
Jervis, and she liked them; and took a Copy; and made me sing them to her, and
in the green Room too; but I looked into the Closet first. I will only add, that
I am
                                                          Your dutiful Daughter.
 
Let me just say, that he has this Moment sent me five Guineas by Mrs. Jervis, as
a Present for my Pocket; so I shall be very rich; for as she brought them, I
thought I might take them. He says he won't see me: And I may go when I will in
the Morning. And Lincolnshire Robin shall drive me; but he is so angry, he
orders that nobody shall go out at the Door with me, not so much as into the
Court-yard. Well! I can't help it, not I! but does not this expose him more than
me?
    But John waits, and I would have brought this and the other myself; but he
says, he has put it up among other things, and so can take both as well as one.
    John is very good, and very honest, God reward him! I'd give him a Guinea,
now I'm so rich, if I thought he'd take it. I hear nothing of my Lady's clothes,
and those my Master gave me: For I told Mrs. Jervis, I would not take them; but
I fancy, by a Word or two that was dropped, they will be sent after me. Dear Sirs!
what a rich Pamela you'll have, if they should! But as I can't wear them, if
they do, I don't desire them; and will turn them into Money, as I can have
Opportunity. Well, no more - I'm in a fearful Hurry!
 

                            Verses on my going away.

                                       I.
My Fellow-servants, dear, attend
To these few Lines, which I have penn'd:
I'm sure they're from your honest Friend,
And Wisher-well, poor Pamela.
 
                                      II.
I from a State of low Degree
Was taken by our good Lady.
Some say it better had been for me,
I'd still been rustick Pamela.
 
                                      III.
But yet, my Friends, I hope not so:
For, tho' I to my Station low
Again return, I joyful go,
And think no Shame to Pamela.
 
                                      IV.
For what makes out true Happiness,
But Innocence, and inward Peace?
And that, thank God, I do possess:
O happy, happy Pamela!
 
                                       V.
My future Lot I cannot know:
But this, I'm sure, where-e'er I go,
What-e'er I am, what-e'er I do,
I'll be the grateful Pamela!
 
                                      VI.
No sad Regrets my Heart annoy.
I'll pray for all your Peace and Joy
From Master high, to Scullion Boy,
For all your Loves to Pamela.
 
                                      VII.
One thing or two I've more to say;
God's holy Will, be sure obey;
And for our Master always pray;
As ever shall poor Pamela.
 
                                     VIII.
For, Oh! we pity should the Great,
Instead of envying their Estate;
Temptations always on 'em wait,
Exempt from which are such as we.
 
                                      IX.
Their Riches often are a Snare;
At best, a pamper'd weighty Care:
Their Servants far more happy are:
At least, so thinketh Pamela.
 
                                       X.
Your Parents and Relations love:
Let them your Duty ever prove;
And you'll be blessed from above,
As will, I hope, poor Pamela.
 
                                      XI.
For if ashamed I could be
Of my poor Parents low Degree,
I'm sure it would been worse for me,
God had not blessed Pamela.
 
                                      XII.
Thrice happy may you ever be,
Each one in his and her Degree;
And, Sirs, whene'er you think of me,
Pray for Content to Pamela.
 
                                     XIII.
Yes, pray for my Content and Peace;
For, rest assure'd, I'll never cease
To pray for all your Joys Increase,
While Life is lent to Pamela.
 
                                      XIV.
On God all future Good depends:
Him let us serve. My Sonnet ends;
With Thank-ye, Thank-ye, honest Friends,
For all your Loves to Pamela.
 
Here it is necessary to observe, that the fair Pamela's Tryals were not yet
over; but the worst of all were to come, at a Time when she thought them all at
an End, and that she was returning to her Father: For when her Master found her
Virtue was not to be subdu'd, and that he had in vain try'd to conquer his
Passion for her, being a Gentleman of Pleasure and Intrigue, he had order'd his
Lincolnshire Coachman to bring his Travelling Chariot from thence, not caring to
trust his Body Coachman, who, with the rest of the Servants, so greatly loved
and honour'd the fair Damsel; and having given him Instructions accordingly, and
prohibited his other Servants, on Pretence of resenting Pamela's Behaviour, from
accompanying her any Part of the Way, he drove her five Miles on the Way to her
Father's; and then turning off, cross'd the Country, and carried her onward
towards his Lincolnshire Estate.
    It is also to be observe'd, that the Messenger of her Letters to her Father,
who so often pretended Business that way, was an Implement in his Master's
Hands, and employ'd by him for that Purpose; and who always gave her Letters
first to him, and his Master used to open and read them, and then send them on;
by which means, as he hints to her (as she observes in one of her Letters, p.
83) he was no Stranger to what she wrote. Thus every way was the poor Virgin
beset: And the Whole will show the base Arts of designing Men to gain their
wicked Ends; and how much it behoves the Fair Sex to stand upon their Guard
against their artful Contrivances, especially when Riches and Power conspire
against Innocence and a low Estate.
    A few Words more will be necessary to make the Sequel better understood. The
intriguing Gentleman thought fit, however, to keep back from her Father her
three last Letters; in which she mentioned his concealing himself to hear her
partitioning out her clothes, his last Effort to induce her to stay a Fortnight,
his pretended Proposal of the Chaplain, and her Hopes of speedily seeing them,
as also her Verses; and to send himself a Letter to her Father, which is as
follows.
 
        »Goodman Andrews,
            You will wonder to receive a Letter from me. But I think I am
        obliged to let you know, that I have discover'd the strange
        Correspondence carry'd on between you and your Daughter, so injurious to
        my Honour and Reputation, and which I think you should not have
        encourage'd till you knew the Truth of it. Something, possibly, there
        might be in what she has wrote from time to time; but, believe me, with
        all her pretended Simplicity and Innocence, I never knew so much
        romantick Invention as she is Mistress of. In short, the Girl's Head's
        turn'd by Romances, and such idle Stuff, which she has given herself up
        to, ever since her kind Lady's Death. And she assumes such Airs, as if
        she was a Mirror of Perfection, and believe'd every body had a Design
        upon her. Nay, she has not, I understand, spared me, who used to joke
        and divert myself with her Innocence, as I thought it.
            Don't mistake me however; I believe her very honest, and very
        virtuous; but I have found out also, that she is carrying on a sort of
        Correspondence, or Love Affair, with a young Clergyman, that I hope in
        time to provide for; but who, at present, is destitute of any
        Subsistence but my Favour: And what would be the Consequence, can you
        think of two young Folks, who have nothing in the World to trust to of
        their own, to come together, with a Family multiplying upon them, before
        they have Bread to eat?
            For my Part, I have too much Kindness to them both, not to endeavour
        to prevent it, if I can: And for this Reason I have sent her out of his
        Way for a little while, till I can bring them to better Consideration;
        and I would not therefore have you Surprise'd you don't see your Daughter
        so soon as you might possibly expect.
            Yet, I do assure you, upon my Honour, that she shall be safe and
        inviolate; and I hope you don't doubt me, notwithstanding any Airs she
        may have given herself, upon my jocular Pleasantry to her, and perhaps a
        little innocent Romping with her, so usual with young Folks of the two
        Sexes, when they have been long acquainted, and grown up together; for
        Pride is not my Talent.
            As she is a mighty Letter-writer, I hope she has had the Duty to
        apprise you of her Intrigue with the young Clergyman; and I know not
        whether it meets with your Countenance: But now she is absent for a
        little while, (for I know he would have follow'd her to your Village, if
        she had gone home; and there perhaps they would have ruin'd one another,
        by marrying) I doubt not I shall bring him to see his Interest, and that
        he engages not before he knows how to provide for a Wife: And when that
        can be done, let them come together in God's Name, for me.
            I expect not to be answer'd on this Head, but by your good Opinion,
        and the Confidence you may repose in my Honour; being
                                                Your hearty Friend to serve you.
        P.S. I find my Man John has been the Manager of the Correspondence, in
        which such Liberties have been taken with me. I shall soon let the saucy
        Fellow know how much I resent his Part of the Affair, in a manner that
        becomes me. It is a hard thing, that a Man of my Character in the World,
        should be used thus freely by his own Servants.«
 
It is easy to guess at the poor old Man's Concern upon reading this Letter, from
a Gentleman of so much Consideration. He knew not what Course to take, and had
no manner of Doubt of his poor Daughter's Innocence, and that foul Play was
design'd her. Yet he sometimes hoped the best, and was ready to believe the
surmised Correspondence between the Clergyman and her, having not receive'd the
Letters she wrote, which would have clear'd up that Affair.
    But after all, he resolved, as well to quiet his own as his Wife's
Uneasiness, to undertake a Journey to the 'Squire's; and leaving his poor Wife
to excuse him to the Farmer who imploy'd him, he sat out that very Night, late
as it was; and travelling all Night, he found himself soon after Day-light, at
the Gate of the Gentleman, before the Family was up: And there he sat down to
rest himself, till he should see somebody stirring.
    The Grooms were the first he saw, coming out to water their Horses; and he
ask'd, in so distressful a manner, what was become of Pamela, that they thought
him crasy; and said, Why, what have you to do with Pamela, old Fellow? Get out
of the Horse's Way. - Where is your Master? said the poor Man; pray, Gentlemen,
don't be angry: My Heart's almost broke. - He never gives any thing at the Door,
I assure you, says one of the Grooms; so you'll lose your Labour. - I am not a
Beggar yet, said the poor old Man; I want nothing of him, but my Pamela! - O my
Child! my Child!
    I'll be hang'd, says one of them, if this is not Mrs. Pamela's Father! -
Indeed, indeed, said he, wringing his Hands, I am; and weeping, Where is my
Child? Where is my Pamela? - Why, Father, said one of them, we beg your Pardon;
but she is gone home to you! How long have you been come from home? - O but last
Night, said he; I have travelled all Night! Is the 'Squire at home, or is he
not? - Yes, but he is not stirring tho', said the Grooms, as yet. Thank God for
that, said he! thank God for that! then I hope I may be permitted to speak to
him anon. They asked him to go in, and he stepped into the Stable, and sat down on
the Stairs there, wiping his Eyes, and sighing so sadly, that it grieved the
Servants to hear him.
    The Family was soon raised, with the Report of Pamela's Father coming to
inquire after his Daughter; and the Maids would fain have had him go into the
Kitchen. But Mrs. Jervis having been told of his coming, got up, and hasten'd
down to her Parlour, and took him in with her, and there heard all his sad
Story, and read the Letter. She wept bitterly; but yet endeavoured to hide her
Concern; and said, Well, Goodman Andrews, I cannot help weeping at your Grief;
but I hope there is no Occasion; let nobody see this Letter, whatever you do. I
dare say your Daughter's safe.
    Well, but said he, I see you, Madam, know nothing about her! - If all was
right, so good a Gentlewoman as you are, would not have been a Stranger to this.
To be sure you thought she was with me!
    Said she, My Master does not always inform his Servants of his Proceedings;
but you need not doubt his Honour. You have his Hand for it. And you may see he
can have no Design upon her, because he is not from hence, and does not talk of
going hence. O that is all I have to hope for, said he! that is all, indeed! -
But, said he, and was going on, when the Report of his coming had reach'd the
'Squire, who came down in his Morning-gown and Slippers, into the Parlour, where
he and Mrs. Jervis was.
    What's the Matter, Goodman Andrews? said he; what's the Matter? O my Child,
said the good old Man, give me my Child, I beseech you, Sir - Why, I thought,
says the 'Squire, that I had satisfy'd you about her; sure you have not a Letter
I sent you, written with my own Hand. Yes, yes, but I have, Sir, said he, and
that brought me hither; and I have walked all Night. Poor Man! return'd he, with
great seeming Compassion, I am sorry for it truly! Why your Daughter has made a
strange Racket in my Family; and if I thought it would have disturb'd you so
much, I would have e'en let her gone home; but what I did was to serve her and
you too. She is very safe, I do assure you, Goodman Andrews; and you may take my
Honour for it, I would not injure her for the World. Do you think I would, Mrs.
Jervis? No, I hope not, Sir, said she! - Hope not! said the poor Man, so do I;
but pray, Sir, give me my Child; that is all I desire; and I'll take care no
Clergyman shall come near her.
    Why, London is a great way off, said the 'Squire, and I can't send for her
back presently. What then, said he, have you sent my poor Pamela to London? I
would not have it said so, says the 'Squire; but I assure you, upon my Honour,
she is quite safe and satisfied, and will quickly inform you of as much by
Letter. I am sure she is in a reputable Family, no less than a Bishop's, and
will wait on his Lady till I get this Matter over, that I mentioned to you!
    O how shall I know this! reply'd he. - What, said the 'Squire, pretending
Anger, am I to be doubted? - Do you believe I can have any View upon your
Daughter! And if I had, do you think I would take such Methods as these to
effect it? Why, Man, you know not who you talk to? - O Sir, said he, I beg your
Pardon; but consider my dear Child is in the Case: Let me know what Bishop, and
where, and I will travel to London barefoot, to see my Daughter, and then shall
be satisfied.
    Why, Goodman Andrews, I think thou has read Romances as well as thy
Daughter, and thy Head's turn'd with them. May I not have my word taken? Do you
think, once more, I would offer any thing to your Daughter! Is there any thing
looks like it? - Pr'ythee, Man, consider a little who I am; and if I am not to
be believe'd, what signifies talking? Why, Sir, said he, pray forgive me; but
there is no Harm to say, What Bishop's, or whereabouts? What, and so you'd go
troubling his Lordship with your impertinent Fears and Stories! Will you be
satisfied if you have a Letter from her within a Week, it may be less, if she be
not negligent, to assure you all is well with her? Why that, said the poor Man,
will be a Comfort. Well then, said the 'Squire, I can't answer for her
Negligence, if she don't; but she will send a Letter to you, Mrs. Jervis, for I
desire not to see it; I have had Trouble enough about her already; and be sure
you send it by a Man and Horse the Moment you receive it. To be sure I will,
said she. Thank your Honour, said the good Man. And then I must wait with as
much Patience as I can for a Week, which will be a Year to me.
    I tell you, said the 'Squire, it must be her own Fault if she don't; for
'tis what I insisted upon for my own Reputation; and I shan't stir from this
House, I assure you, till she is heard from, and that to Satisfaction. God bless
your Honour, said the poor Man, as you say and mean Truth. Amen, Amen, Goodman
Andrews, said he; you see I am not afraid to say Amen. So, Mrs. Jervis, make the
good Man as welcome as you can; and let me have no Uproar about the Matter.
    He then, whispering her, bid her give him a couple of Guineas to bear his
Charges home; telling him, he should be welcome to stay there till the Letter
came, if he would; and he should be a Witness, that he intended honourably, and
not to stir from his House for one while.
    The poor old Man staid and din'd with Mrs. Jervis, with some tolerable Ease,
in hopes to hear from his beloved Daughter in a few Days, and then accepting the
Present, return'd for his own House; and resolve'd to be as patient as possible
for a few Days.
    Mean time Mrs. Jervis, and all the Family, were in the utmost Grief for the
Trick put upon the poor Pamela, and she and the Steward represented it to the
'Squire in as moving Terms as they durst: But were forced to rest satisfy'd with
his general Assurances of intending her no Harm; which however Mrs. Jervis
little believe'd from the Pretence he had made in his Letter, of the
Correspondence between Pamela and the young Parson; which she knew to be all
Invention; tho' she durst not say any thing of it.
    But the Week after she went away, they were made a little more easy, by the
following Letter, brought by an unknown Hand, and left for Mrs. Jervis; which
how procur'd, will be shown in the Sequel.
 
        »Dear Mrs. Jervis,
            I Have been vilely trick'd, and, instead of being driven by Robin to
        my dear Father's, I am carry'd off, to where I have no Liberty to tell.
        However, I am at present not used hardly in the main; and I write to beg
        of you to let my dear Father and Mother (whose Hearts must be well- nigh
        broken) know, That I am well, and that I am, and, by the Grace of God,
        ever will be, their dutiful and honest Daughter, as well as
Your obliged Friend,
                                                                 PAMELA ANDREWS.
        I must neither send Date nor Place. But have most solemn Assurances of
        honourable Usage. This is the only Time my low Estate has been
        troublesome to me, since it has subjected me to the Frights I have
        undergone. Love to your good self, and all my dear Fellow-servants.
        Adieu! Adieu! But pray for poor PAMELA.«
 
This, tho' it quieted not entirely their Apprehensions, was shown to the whole
Family, and to the 'Squire himself, who pretended to know not how it came; and
Mrs. Jervis sent it away to the good old Folks; who at first suspected it was
forged, and not their Daughter's Hand; but finding the contrary, they were a
little easier to hear she was alive and well. And having inquir'd of all their
Acquaintance, what could be done, and no one being able to put them in a way how
to proceed, with Effect, on so extraordinary an Occasion, against so rich and
daring a Gentleman; and being afraid to make Matters worse, (tho' they saw
plainly enough, that by this Letter she was in no Bishop's Family, and so
mistrusted all the rest of his Story) they apply'd themselves to Prayers for
their poor Daughter, and for a happy Issue to an Affair that almost distracted
them.
    We shall now leave the honest old Pair, praying for their dear Pamela; and
return to the Account she herself gives of all this; having written it
Journal-wise, to amuse and employ her Time, in hopes some Opportunity might
offer to send it to her Friends, and, as was her constant View, that she might
afterwards thankfully look back upon the Dangers she had escaped, when they
should be happily over-blown, as in time she hoped they would be; and that then
she might examine, and either approve of, or repent for, her own Conduct in
them.
 

                                 Letter XXXII.

O my dearest Father and Mother,
    Let me write and bewail my miserable hard Fate, tho' I have no Hope that
what I write will be convey'd to your Hands! - I have now nothing to do but
write, and weep, and fear, and pray; and yet, What can I pray for, when God
Almighty, for my Sins, to be sure, vouchsafes not to hear my Prayers; but
suffers me to be a Prey to a wicked Violator of all the Laws of God and Man! -
But, gracious Heaven, forgive me my Rashness! O let me not sin against thee; for
thou best knows what is fittest for thy poor Handmaid! - And as thou sufferest
not thy poor Creatures to be tempted above what they can bear; I will resign,
thro' thy Grace assisting me, to thy good Pleasure. But since these Temptations
are not of my own seeking, the Effects of my Presumption and Vanity, O enable me
to withstand them all, and deliver me from the Dangers that hang over my poor
Head, and make me perfect thro' Sufferings, and, in thy own good Time, deliver
me from them!
    Thus do I pray, imperfectly as I am forced by my distracting Fears and
Apprehensions; and O join with me, my dear Parents! - But, alas! how can you
know, how can I reveal to you, the dreadful Situation of your poor Daughter! The
unhappy Pamela may be undone, (which God forbid, and sooner deprive me of Life!)
before you can know my hard Lot!
    O the unparallel'd Wickedness, and Stratagems, and Devices of those who call
themselves Gentlemen, and pervert the Design of Providence, in giving them ample
Means to do good, to their own Perdition, and to the Ruin of poor oppressed
Innocence!
 
But let me tell you what has befallen me; and yet, How shall you receive it? For
I have now no honest John to carry my Letters to you; but am likely to be
watch'd in all my Steps, till my hard Fate ripens his wicked Projects for my
Ruin. I will every Day now write my sad State; and some way, perhaps, may be
open'd to send the melancholy Scribble to you. But if you know it, what will it
do but aggravate your Troubles: For, Oh! what can the abject Poor do against the
mighty Rich, when they are determin'd to oppress?
    Well, but I will proceed to write what I had hoped to tell you in a few
Hours, that I believed I should be blessed by you on my Return to you, from so
many Hardships.
    I will begin here with my Account from the last Letter I wrote you, in which
I enclosed my poor Stuff of Verses, and continue it at times, as I have
Opportunity; tho' as I said, I know not how it can reach you now.
 
The long hop'd-for Thursday Morning came, that I was to set out. I had taken my
Leave of my Fellow-servants over-night; and a mournful Leave it was to us all:
For Men, as well as Women-servants, wept much to part with me; and, for my Part,
I was overwhelm'd with Tears, and the Instances of their Esteem. They all would
have made me little Presents, as Tokens of their Love; but I would not take any
thing from the lower Servants, to be sure. But Mr. Longman made me a present of
several Yards of Holland, and a silver Snuff-box, and a gold Ring, which he
desire'd me to keep for his sake; and he wept over me; but said, I am sure, so
good a Maiden God will bless; and tho' you return to your poor Father again, and
his low Estate; yet Providence will find you out, and one Day, tho' I mayn't
live to see it, you will be rewarded.
    I said, O dear Mr. Longman, you make me too rich, and too mody; and yet I
must be a Beggar before my Time: For I shall want often to be scribbling,
(little thinking it would be my only Employment so soon) and I will beg you,
Sir, to favour me with some Paper; and as soon as I get home, I will write you a
Letter, to thank you for all your Kindness to me; and a Letter to good Mrs.
Jervis too.
    This was lucky; for I should have had none else, but at pleasure of my
rough-natur'd Governess, as I may call her; but now I can write to ease my Mind,
tho' I can't send it to you; and write what I please, for she knows not how well
I am provided. For good Mr. Longman gave me above forty Sheets of Paper, and a
dozen Pens, and a little Phial of Ink; which last I wrapt in Paper, and put in
my Pocket; and some Wax and Wafers.
    O dear Sir, said I, you have set me up. How shall I requite you? He said, By
a Kiss, my fair Mistress; and I gave it very willingly; for he is a good old
Man.
    Rachel and Hannah cry'd sadly when I took my Leave, and Jane, who sometimes
used to be a little crossish, and Cicely too, wept sadly, and said they would
pray for me; but poor Jane, I doubt, seldom says her Prayers for herself: More's
the pity!
    Then Arthur the Gardener, our Robin the Coachman, and Lincolnshire Robin
too, who was to carry me, were very civil; and both had Tears in their Eyes;
which I thought then very good-natur'd in Lincolnshire Robin, because he knew
but little of me. - But since, I find he might well be concern'd, for he had
then his Instructions, it seems, and knew how he was to be a Means to intrap me.
    Then our other three Footmen, Harry, Isaac, and Benjamin, and Grooms, and
Helpers too, were very much affected likewise; and the poor little Scullion-boy,
Tommy, was ready to run over for Grief.
    They had got all together over-night, expecting to be differently imploy'd
in the Morning; and they all begg'd to shake Hands with me, and I kiss'd the
Maidens; and pray'd to God to bless them all; and thanked them for all their
Love and Kindnesses to me: And indeed I was forced to leave them sooner than I
would, because I could not stand it: indeed I could not! Harry (I could not have
thought it, for he is a little wildish, they say) cry'd till he sobb'd again.
John, poor honest John, was not then come back from you. But as for the Butler,
Mr. Jonathan, he could not stay in Company.
    I thought to have told you a deal about this; but I have worse things to
employ my Thoughts.
    Mrs. Jervis, good Mrs. Jervis, cry'd all Night long; and I comforted her all
I could: and she made me promise, that if my Master went to London to attend
Parliament, or to Lincolnshire, I would come and stay a Week with her. And she
would have given me Money; but I would not take it.
 
Well, next Morning came, and I wonder'd I saw nothing of poor honest John; for I
waited to take Leave of him, and thank him for all his Civilities to me and to
you: But I suppose he was sent further by my Master, and so could not return;
and I desired to be remember'd to him.
    And when Mrs. Jervis told me, with a sad Heart, the Chariot was ready, with
four Horses to it, I was just upon sinking into the Ground, tho' I wanted to be
with you.
    My Master was above Stairs, and never asked to see me. I was glad of it in
the main; but he knew, false Heart as he is! that I was not to be out of his
Reach! - O preserve me, Heaven, from his Power, and from his Wickedness!
    Well, they were not suffer'd to go with me one Step, as I writ you before;
for he stood at the Window to see me go. And in the Passage to the Gate, out of
his Sight, there they stood all of them, in two Rows; and we could say nothing
on both sides, but God bless you! and God bless you! But Harry carried my own
Bundle, my third Bundle, as I was used to call it, to the Coach, and some
Plum-cakes, and Diet-bread, made for me over-night, and some Sweet-meats, and
six Bottles of Canary Wine, which Mrs. Jervis would make me take in a Basket, to
cheer our Hearts now-and-then when we got together, as she said. And I kiss'd
all the Maids again, and shook Hands with the Men again; but Mr. Jonathan and
Mr. Longman were not there; and tript down Steps to the Chariot, Mrs. Jervis
crying most sadly.
    I look'd up when I got to the Chariot, and I saw my Master at the Window, in
his Gown; and I curchee'd three times to him very low, and pray'd for him with
my Hands lifted up, for I could not speak; and he bow'd his Head to me, which
made me then very glad he would take such Notice of me; and in I stepped, and was
ready to burst with Grief; and could only, till Robin begun to drive, wave my
white Handkerchief to them, wet with my Tears: And at last away he drove,
Jehu-like as they say, out of the Court-yard; and I too soon found I had Cause
for greater and deeper Grief.
    Well, says I to myself, at this rate I shall soon be with my dear Father and
Mother; and till I had got, as I supposed, half way, I thought of the good
Friends I had left. And when, on stopping for a little Bait to the Horses, Robin
told me, I was near half-way, I thought it was high time to wipe my Eyes, and
think to whom I was going; as then, alack for me! I thought. So I began to
ponder what a Meeting I should have with you; how glad you'd both be to see me
come safe and innocent to you, after all my Dangers; and so I began to comfort
myself, and to banish the other gloomy Side from my Mind; tho' too it return'd
now-and-then; for I should be ingrateful not to love them for their Love.
    Well, I believe, I sat out about Eight o'Clock in the Morning; and I
wonder'd, and wonder'd, when it was about Two, as I saw by a Church-dyal in a
little Place we pass'd thro', that I was still more and more out of my
Knowledge. Hey-day! thinks I, to drive this strange Pace, and to be so long
a-going little more than twenty Miles, is very odd! But, to be sure, thought I,
Robin knows the Way.
    At last he stopped, and look'd about him, as if he was at a Loss for the Way;
and I said, Mr. Robert, sure you are out of the Way! - I'm afraid I am, said he.
But it can't be much; I'll ask the first Person I see. Pray do, said I; and he
gave his Horses a Mouthful of Hay; and I gave him some Cake, and two Glasses of
Canary Wine; and he stopped about half an Hour in all. Then he drove on very fast
again.
    I had so much to think of, of the Dangers I now doubted not I had escaped,
of the loving Friends I had left, and my best Friends I was going to, and the
many things I had to relate to you, that I the less thought of the Way, till I
was startled out of my Meditations by the Sun beginning to set, and still the
Man driving on, and his Horses sweating and foaming; and then I begun to be
alarm'd all at once, and called to him; and he said, he had horrid ill Luck; for
he had come several Miles out of the Way, but was now right, and should get in
still before it was quite dark. My heart began then to misgive me a little; and
I was very much fatigued; for I had no Sleep for several Nights before to
signify; and at last, I said, Pray, Mr. Robert, there is a Town before us, What
do you call it? - If we are so much out of the Way, we had better put up there;
for the Night comes on apace; and, Lord protect me! thought I, I shall have new
Dangers, may-hap, to encounter with the Man, who have escaped the Master? -
Little thinking of the base Contrivance of the latter. Says he, I am just there;
'tis but a Mile on one side of the Town before us. - Nay, said I, I may be
mistaken, for it is a good while since I was this way; but I am sure the Face of
the Country here is nothing like what I remember it.
    He pretended to be much out of Humour with himself for mistaking the Way,
and at last stopped at a Farm-house, about two Miles beyond the Village I had
seen, and it was then almost dark, and he alighted, and said, We must make shift
here; for I am quite out.
    Lord, thought I, be good to the poor Pamela! More Tryals still! - What will
befal me next?
    The Farmer's Wife, and Maid, and Daughter, came out, and said, What brings
you this way at this time of Night, Mr. Robert? And with a Lady too? - Then I
began to be frighten'd out of my Wits; and laying Middle and both Ends together,
I fell a-crying, and said, God give me Patience! I am undone for certain! -
Pray, Mistress, said I, do you know Esquire B. of Bedfordshire?
    The wicked Coachman would have prevented the answering me; but the simple
Daughter said, Know his Worship! yes, surely! why he is my Father's Landlord! -
Well, said I, then I am undone, undone for ever! - O wicked Wretch! what have I
done to you, said I to the Coachman, to serve me thus? - Vile Tool of a wicked
Master! Faith, said the Fellow, I'm sorry this Task was put upon me: But I could
not help it. But make the best of it now; Here are very civil, reputable Folks;
and you'll be safe here, I'll assure you. - Let me get out, said I, and I'll
walk back to the Town we came thro', late as it is! - For I will not enter here.
    Said the Farmer's Wife, You'll be very well used here, I'll assure you,
young Gentlewoman, and have better Conveniencies than any where in the Village.
I matter not Conveniencies, said I, I am betray'd and undone! As you have a
Daughter of your own, pity me, and let me know, if your Landlord, as you call
him, be here! - No, I'll assure you, he is not, said she.
    And then came the Farmer, a good-like sort of Man, grave, and well-behave'd;
and he spoke to me in such sort, as made me a little more pacify'd; and seeing
no Help for it, I went in; and the Wife immediately carry'd me up Stairs to the
best Apartment, and told me that was mine as long as I staid; and nobody should
come near me but when I called! I threw myself on the Bed in the Room, tir'd,
and frighten'd to Death almost, and gave way to the most excessive Fit of Grief
that I ever had!
    The Daughter came up, and said, Mr. Robert had given her a Letter to give
me; and there it was. I raised myself, and saw it was the Hand and Seal of the
wicked Wretch my Master, directed To Mrs. Pamela Andrews. - This was a little
better than to have him here; tho' if he had, he must have been brought thro'
the Air; for I thought I was.
    The good Woman (for I begun to see things about a little reputable, and no
Guile appearing in them, but rather a Face of Grief for my Grief) offered me a
Glass of some cordial Water, which I accepted, for I was ready to sink; and then
I sat up in a Chair a little, tho' very faintish: And they brought me two
Candles, and lighted a Brushwood Fire; and said, if I call'd, I should be waited
upon instantly, and so left me to ruminate on my sad Condition, and to read my
Letter, which I was not able to do presently. After I had a little come to
myself, I found it to contain these Words:
 
        »Dear PAMELA,
            The Passion I have for you, and your Obstinacy, have constrained me
        to act by you in a manner that I know will occasion you great Trouble
        and Fatigue, both of Mind and Body. Yet, forgive me, my dear Girl; for
        tho' I have taken this Step, I will, by all that's good and holy, use
        you honourably. Suffer not your Fears to transport you to a Behaviour
        that will be disreputable to us both. For the Place where you'll receive
        this, is a Farm that belongs to me; and the People civil, honest and
        obliging.
            You will be by this time far on your way to the Place I have
        allotted for your Abode for a few Weeks, 'till I have manage'd some
        Affairs, that will make me show myself to you in a much different Light
        than you may possibly apprehend from this rash Action. And to convince
        you that I mean you no Harm, I do assure you, that the House you are
        going to, shall be so much at your Command, that even I myself will not
        approach it without Leave from you. So make yourself easy; be discreet
        and prudent; and a happier Turn shall reward these your Troubles, than
        you may at present apprehend.
            Mean time I pity the Fatigue you will have, if this comes to your
        hand in the Place I have directed. And will write to your Father, to
        satisfy him, that nothing but what is honourable shall be offer'd to
        you, by
                                                  Your passionate Admirer, (so I
                                                           must style myself ) -
 
Don't think hardly of poor Robin: You have so possess'd all my Servants in your
Favour, that I find they had rather serve you than me; and 'tis reluctantly the
Fellow undertook this Task; and I was forced to submit to assure him of my
honourable Intentions to you, which I am fully resolved to make good, if you
compel me not to a Conduct abhorrent to me at present.«
    I but too well apprehended, that this Letter was only to pacify me for the
present; but as my Danger was not so immediate as I had reason to dread, and he
had promised to forbear coming to me, and to write to you, my dear Parents, to
quiet your Concern, I was a little more easy than I was before: And I made shift
to eat a little Bit of boil'd Chicken they had got for me, and drank a Glass of
my Sack, and made them do so too.
    But after I had so done, I was again a little fluster'd; for in came the
Coachman with the Look of a Hangman, I thought, and Madam'd me up strangely;
telling me, he would beg me to get ready to pursue my Journey by Five in the
Morning, or else he should be late in. I was quite grieve'd at this; for I began
not to dislike my Company, considering how Things stood, and was in hopes to get
a Party among them, and so to put myself into any worthy Protection in the
Neighbourhood, rather than go forward.
    When he withdrew, I began to tamper with the Farmer and his Wife. But, alas!
they had had a Letter deliver'd them at the same time I had; so securely had
Lucifer put it into his Head to do his Work; and they only shook their Heads,
and seem'd to pity me; and so I was forced to give over that Hope.
    However, the good Farmer show'd me his Letter; which I copy'd as follows:
For it shows the deep Arts of this wicked Master; and how resolve'd he seem'd on
my Ruin, by the Pains he took to deprive me of all Hopes of freeing myself from
his Power.
 
        »Farmer Norton,
            I Send to your House, for one Night only, a young Gentlewoman, much
        against her Will, who has deeply imbark'd in a Love Affair, which will
        be her Ruin, as well as the Person's to whom she wants to betroth
        herself. I have, to oblige her Father, order'd her to be carry'd to one
        of my Houses, where she will be well us'd, to try if by Absence, and
        Expostulation with both, they can be brought to know their own Interest.
        And I am sure you will use her kindly for my sake. For excepting this
        Matter, which she will not own, she does not want Prudence and
        Discretion. I will acknowledge any Trouble you shall be at in this
        Matter, the first Opportunity, and am
                                                       Your Friend and Servant.«
 
He had said, too cunningly for me, that I would not own this pretended Love
Affair; so that he had provided them not to believe me, say what I would; and as
they were his Tenants, who all love him, (for he has some good Qualities, and so
he had need!) I saw all my Plot cut out; and so was force'd to say the less.
    I wept bitterly, however; for I saw he was too hard for me, as well in his
Contrivances as Riches; and so had Recourse again to my only Refuge, that God
who takes the innocent Heart into his Almighty Protection, and is alone able to
baffle and confound the Devices of the Mighty. Nay, the Farmer was so
prepossess'd with the Contents of his Letter to him, that he began to praise his
Care and Concern for me, and to advise me against entertaining Addresses without
my Friends Advice and Consent, and made me the Subject of a Lesson for his
Daughter's Improvement. So I was glad to shut up this Discourse; for I saw I was
not likely to be believe'd.
    I sent, however, to tell my Driver, that I was so fatigued, I could not set
out so soon the next Morning. But he insisted upon it, and said it would make my
Day's Journey the lighter; and I found he was a more faithful Servant to his
Master, notwithstanding what he wrote of his Reluctance, than I could have
wish'd: So I saw still more and more, that all was deep Dissimulation, and
Contrivance worse and worse.
    Indeed I might have shown them his Letter to me as a full Confutation of his
to them; but I saw no Probability of engaging them in my Behalf; and so thought
it signify'd little, as I was to go away so soon, to enter more particularly
into the Matter with them; and besides, I saw they were not inclinable to let me
stay longer for fear of disobliging him; so I went to Bed, but had very little
Rest; and they would make their Servant-maid bear me Company in the Chariot five
Miles, early in the Morning, and she was to walk back.
 
I had contrive'd in my Thoughts, when I was on my Way in the Chariot, on Friday
Morning, that when we came into some Town, to bait, as he must do for the Horses
sake, that I would at the Inn apply myself, if I saw I any way could, to the
Mistress of the Inn, and tell her the Case, and refuse to go further, having
nobody but this wicked Coachman to contend with.
    Well, I was very full of this Project, and was in great Hopes, some how or
other, to extricate myself this way. But Oh! the artful Wretch had provided for
even this last Resource of mine; for when we came to put up at a large Town on
the Way, to eat a Morsel for Dinner, and I was fully resolve'd to execute my
Project, who should be at the Inn that he put up at, but the wicked Mrs. Jewkes
expecting me, and her Sister-in-law was the Mistress of it; and she had provided
a little Entertainment for me.
    And this I found, when I desire'd, as soon as I came in, to speak with the
Mistress of the House. She came to me, and I said, I am a poor unhappy young
Body that wants your Advice and Assistance, and you seem to be a good sort of
Gentlewoman, that would assist an oppressed innocent Person. Yes, Madam, said
she, I hope you guess right, and I have the Happiness to know something of the
Matter before you speak. Pray call my Sister Jewkes. - Jewkes! Jewkes! thought
I, I have heard of that Name; I don't like it.
    Then the wicked Creature appear'd, whom I had never seen but once before,
and I was terrify'd out of my Wits. No Stratagem, thought I, not one! for a poor
innocent Girl; but every thing to turn out against me; that is hard indeed!
    So I began to pull in my Horns, as they say; for I saw I was now worse off
than at the Farmer's.
    The naughty Woman came up to me with an Air of Confidence, and kiss'd me,
See, Sister, said she, here's a charming Creature! would not she tempt the best
Lord in the Land to run away with her! O frightful, thought I! here's an Avowal
of the Matter at once! (for she would not part with me out of her Sight) I am
now gone, that's certain! And so was quite silent and confounded; and seeing no
Help for it, I was force'd to set out with her in the Chariot; for she came
thither on Horseback with a Man-servant, who rode by us the rest of the Way,
with her Horse; and now I gave over all Thoughts of Redemption, and was in a
despondent Condition indeed.
    Well, thought I, here are strange Pains taken to ruin a poor innocent,
helpless, and even worthless young Body. This Plot is laid too deep, and has
been too long a hatching to be baffled, I fear. But then I put my Trust in God,
who I knew was able to do every thing for me, when all other possible Means
should fail: And in Him I was resolve'd to confide.
    You may see! - Yet, oh! that kills me, for I know not whether ever you may
see what I now write, or no! - Else you may see, what sort of Woman this Mrs.
Jewkes is, compar'd to good Mrs. Jervis, by this -
    Every now-and-then she would be staring in my Face, in the Chariot, and
squeezing my Hand, and saying, Why, you are very pretty, my silent Dear! and
once she offer'd to kiss me. But I said, I don't like this Sort of Carriage,
Mrs. Jewkes; it is not like two Persons of one Sex.
    She fell a laughing very confidently, and said, That's prettily said, I vow;
then thou hadst rather be kiss'd by the other Sex? If'ackins, I commend thee for
that! I was sadly teaz'd with her Impertinence, and bold Way; but no wonder, she
was an Inn-keeper's House-keeper before she came to my Master; and those Sort of
Creatures don't want Confidence, you know. And indeed she made nothing to talk
confidently on twenty Occasions, and said two or three times, when she saw the
Tears every now-and-then, as we rid, trickle down my Cheeks, I was sorely hurt,
truly, to have the handsomest and finest young Gentleman in five Counties in
Love with me!
    So I find I am got into the Hands of a wicked Procuress, and if I was not
safe with good Mrs. Jervis, and where every body love'd me, what a dreadful
Prospect have I now before me, in the Hands of a Woman that seems to delight in
Filthiness!
    O dear Sirs! what shall I do! What shall I do! - Surely, I shall never be
equal to all these Things!
 
About Eight at Night, we enter'd the Court-yard of this handsome, large, old,
and lonely Mansion, that looks made for Solitude and Mischief, as I thought, by
its Appearance, with all its brown nodding Horrors of lofty Elms and Pines about
it; And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the Scene of my Ruin, unless
God protect me, who is all-sufficient!
    I was very sick at entring it, partly from Fatigue, and partly from
Dejection of Spirits: And Mrs. Jewkes got me some mull'd Wine, and seem'd mighty
officious to welcome me thither. And while she was absent, ordering the Wine,
the wicked Robin came in to me, and said, I beg a thousand Pardons for my Part
in this Affair, since I see your Grief, and your Distress, and I do assure you,
that I am sorry it fell to my Task.
    Mighty well, Mr. Robert! said I; I never saw an Execution but once, and then
the Hangman ask'd the poor Creature's Pardon, and wip'd his Mouth, as you do,
and pleaded his Duty, and then calmly tuck'd up the Criminal: But I am no
Criminal, as you all know: And if I could have thought it my Duty to obey a
wicked Master, in his unlawful Commands, I had save'd you all the Merit of this
vile Service.
    I am sorry, said he, you take it so. But every body don't think alike. Well,
said I, you have done your Part, Mr. Robert, towards my Ruin, very faithfully;
and will have Cause to be sorry, may-be, at the Long-run, when you shall see the
Mischief that comes of it. - Your Eyes were open, and you knew I was to be
carry'd to my Father's, and that I was barbarously trick'd and betray'd, and I
can only once more, thank you for your Part of it. God forgive you!
    So he went away a little sad. What have you said to Robin, Madam, said Mrs.
Jewkes, who came in as he went out? The poor Fellow's ready to cry. I need not
be afraid of your following his Example, Mrs. Jewkes, said I: I have been
telling him, that he has done his Part to my Ruin: And he now can't help it! So
his Repentance does me no good; I wish it may him.
    I'll assure you, Madam, said she, I should be as ready to cry as he, if I
should do you any Harm. It is not in his Power to help it now, said I; but your
Part is to come, and you may choose whether you'll contribute to my Ruin or not.
- Why, look ye, look ye, Madam, said she, I have a great Notion of doing my Duty
to my Master; and therefore you may depend upon it, if I can do that, and serve
you, I will; But you must think, if your Desire and his Will come to clash once,
I shall do as he bids me, let it be what it will.
    Pray, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, don't Madam me so; I am but a silly poor Girl,
set up by the Gambol of Fortune, for a May-game; and now am to be something, and
now nothing, just as that thinks fit to sport with me: And let you and I talk
upon a Foot together; for I am a Servant inferior to you, and so much the more
as I am turn'd out of Place.
    Ay, ay, says she, I understand something of the Matter; you have so great
Power over my Master, that you may be soon Mistress of us all; and so I would
oblige you, if I could. And I must and will call you Madam; for I am instructed
to show you all Respect, I'll assure you.
    Who instructed you to do so, said I? Who! my Master, to be sure, said she.
Why, said I, how can that be, you have not seen him lately. No, that's true,
said she; but I have been expecting you here some time (O! the deep-laid
Wickedness thought I!) and besides, I have a Letter of Instructions by Robin;
but may-be, I should not have said so much. If you would show them to me, said
I, I should be able to judge how far I could, or could not, expect Favour from
you, consistent with your Duty to our Master. I beg your Pardon, fair Mistress,
for that, said she; I am sufficiently instructed, and you may depend upon it, I
will observe my Orders; and so far as they will let me, so far will I oblige
you; and there's an End of it.
    Well, said I, you will not, I hope, do an unlawful or wicked Thing, for any
Master in the World! Look-ye, said she, he is my Master, and if he bids me do a
Thing that I can do, I think I ought to do it, and let him, who has Power, to
command me, look to the Lawfulness of it. Why, said I, suppose he should bid you
cut my Throat, would you do it? There's no Danger of that, said she; but to be
sure I would not; for then I should be hang'd; for that would be Murder. Well,
said I, and suppose he should resolve to insnare a poor young Creature, and ruin
her, would you assist him in that? For to rob a Person of her Virtue, is worse
than cutting her Throat.
    Why now, says she, how strangely you talk! Are not the two Sexes made for
one another? And is it not natural for a Gentleman to love a pretty Woman? And
suppose he can obtain his Desires, is that so bad as cutting her Throat? And
then the Wretch fell a laughing, and talk'd most impertinently, and show'd me,
that I had nothing to expect from her Virtue or Conscience. And this gave me
great Mortification; for I was in hopes of working upon her by degrees.
    So we ended our Discourse here, and I bid her show me where I must lie? -
Why, said she, lie where you list, Madam; but I can tell you, I must lie with
you for the present. For the present, said I, and Torture then wrung my Heart! -
But is it in your Instructions that you must lie with me? Yes, indeed, said she.
I am sorry for it, said I. Why, said she, I am wholsome and cleanly too, I'll
assure you. Yes, said I, I don't doubt that; but I love to lie by myself. Why,
said she, Mrs. Jervis was your Bed-fellow at t'other House.
    Well, said I, quite sick of her, and my Condition, you must do as you are
instructed, I think. I can't help myself; and am a most miserable Creature. She
repeated her insufferable Nonsense, Mighty miserable indeed, to be so well
belove'd by one of the finest Gentlemen in England!
 

  I am now come down in my Writing to this present Saturday, and a deal I have
                                    written.

My wicked Bed-fellow has very punctual Orders it seems; for she locks me and
herself in, and ties the two Keys (for there is a double Door to the Room) about
her Wrist, when she goes to Bed. She talks of the House having been attempted to
be broke open two or three times; whether to fright me, I can't tell; but it
makes me fearful; but not so much as I should be, if I had not other and greater
Fears.
    I slept but little the preceding Night, and got up, and pretended to sit by
the Window, which looks into the spacious Gardens; but I was writing all the
time, from Break of Day to her getting up, and after, when she was absent.
    At Breakfast she presented the two Maids to me, the Cook and House-maid,
poor awkward Souls, that I can see no Hopes of, they seem so devoted to her and
Ignorance. Yet I am resolve'd if possible, to find some way to escape, before
this wicked Master comes.
    There are besides, of Servants, the Coachman Robert, a Groom, a Helper, a
Footman; all but Robert (and he is accessory to my Ruin) strange Creatures, that
promise nothing; and all likewise devoted to this Woman. The Gardener looks like
a good honest Man; but he is kept at a Distance; and seems reserve'd.
    I wonder'd I saw not Mr. Williams the Clergyman, but would not ask after
him, apprehending it might give her some Jealousy; but when I had beheld the
rest, he was the only one I had Hopes of; for I thought his Cloth would set him
above assisting in my Ruin. - But, in the Afternoon he came; for it seems he has
a little Latin School in the neighbouring Village, which he attends, and this
brings him in a little Matter, additional to my Master's Favour, till something
better falls, of which he has Hopes.
    He is a sensible, sober young Gentleman, and when I saw him, I confirm'd
myself in my Hopes of him; for he seem'd to take great Notice of my Distress and
Grief; for I could not hide it; tho' he appear'd fearful of Mrs. Jewkes, who
watch'd all our Motions and Words.
    He has an Apartment in the House; but is mostly at a Lodging in the Town,
for Conveniency of his little School; only on Saturday Afternoons and Sundays;
and he preaches sometimes for the Parson of the Village, which is about three
Miles off.
    I hope to go to Church with him to-morrow: Sure it is not in her
Instructions to deny me. He can't have thought of every thing. And something may
strike out for me there.
    I have ask'd her, for a Feint, (because she shan't think I am so well
provided) to indulge me with Pen and Ink, tho' I have been using my own so
freely when her Absence would let me; for I begg'd to be left to myself as much
as possible. She says she will let me have it, but then I must promise not to
send any Writing out of the House, without her seeing it. I said, It was only to
divert my Grief, when I was by myself, as I desired to be; for I love'd Writing;
but I had nobody to send to, she knew well enough.
    No, not at present, may-be, said she; but I am told you are a great Writer,
and it is in my Instructions to see all you write; so, look you here, said she,
I will let you have a Pen and Ink, and two Sheets of Paper; for this Employment
will keep you out of worse Thoughts: but I must see them always when I ask,
written or not written. That's very hard, said I; but may I not have the Closet
in the Room where we lie, to myself, with the Key to lock up my Things? I
believe I may consent to that, said she, and I will set it in Order for you, and
leave the Key in the Door. And there is a Spinnet too, said she; if it be in
Tune, you may play to divert you now-and-then; for I know my old Lady learnt
you.
    So I resolve'd to hide a Pen of my own here, and another there, for fear I
should come to be deny'd, and a little of my Ink in a broken China Cup, and a
little in another Cup; and a Sheet of Paper here-and-there among my Linen, with
a little Wax and a few Wafers in several Places, lest I should be search'd; and
something I thought might happen to open a Way for my Deliverance, by these or
some other Means. O the Pride, thought I, I shall have, if I can secure my
Innocence, and escape the artful Wiles of this wicked Master! For, if he comes
hither, I am undone to be sure! For this naughty Woman will assist him, rather
than fail, in the worst of his Attempts, and he'll have no Occasion to send her
out of the Way, as he would have done Mrs. Jervis once. So I must set all my
little Wits at Work!
    It is a Grief to me to write, and not to be able to send to you what I
write; but now it is all the Diversion I have, and if God will favour my Escape
with my Innocence, as I trust he graciously will, for all these black Prospects,
with what Pleasure shall I read them afterwards!
    I was going to say, Pray for your dutiful Daughter, as I used; but, alas!
you cannot know my Distress! tho' I am sure I have your Prayers. And I will
write on as Things happen, that if a Way should open, my Scribble may be ready
to send. For what I do, must be at a Jirk, to be sure.
    O how I want such an obliging honest-hearted Man as John!
 

                            I am now come to Sunday.

Well, here is a sad Thing! I am deny'd by this barbarous Woman, to go to Church,
as I had built upon I might. And she has huffed poor Mr. Williams all to pieces,
for pleading for me. I find he is to be forbid the House, if she pleases. Poor
Gentleman! all his Dependence is upon my Master, who has a very good Living for
him, if the Incumbent die, and he has kept his Bed these four Months, of old Age
and Dropsy.
    He pays me great Respect; and I see pities me; and would perhaps assist my
Escape from these Dangers, but I have nobody to plead for me; and why should I
wish to ruin a poor Gentleman, by engaging him against his Interest? Yet one
would do any thing to preserve one's Innocence; and God Almighty would, may-be,
make it up to him!
    O judge (but how shall you see what I write!) my distracted Condition, to be
reduce'd to such a Pass as to desire to lay Traps for Mankind! - But he wants
sadly to say something to me, as he whisperingly hinted.
 
The Wretch (I think I will always call her the Wretch henceforth) abuses me more
and more. I was but talking to one of the Maids just now, indeed a little to
tamper with her by degrees; and she popt upon us, and said - Nay, don't offer,
Madam, to tempt poor innocent Country Maidens from doing their Duty. You wanted,
I hear, she should take a Walk with you. But I charge you, Nan, never stir with
her, nor obey her, without letting me know it, in the smallest Trifles. - I say,
walk with you! why, where would you go, I trow? Why, barbarous Mrs. Jewkes, said
I, only to look a little up the Elm-walk, as you would not let me go to Church.
    Nan, said she, to show me how much they were all in her Power, pull off
Madam's Shoes, and bring them to me. I have taken care of her others - Indeed
she shan't, said I - Nay, said Nan, but I must, if my Mistress bids me; so pray,
Madam, don't hinder me: And so indeed, (would you believe it?) She took my Shoes
off, and left me barefoot: And, for my Share, I have been so frighten'd at this,
that I have not Power even to relieve my Mind by my Tears. I am quite stupify'd,
to be sure! Here I was force'd to leave off.
 
Now I will give you a Picture of this Wretch! She is a broad, squat, pursy, fat
Thing, quite ugly, if any thing God made can be ugly; about forty Years old. She
has a huge Hand, and an Arm as thick as my Waist, I believe. Her Nose is flat
and crooked, and her Brows grow over her Eyes; a dead, spiteful, grey, goggling
Eye, to be sure, she has. And her Face is flat and broad; and as to Colour,
looks like as if it had been pickled a Month in Salt-petre: I dare say she
drinks! - She has a hoarse man-like Voice, and is as thick as she's long; and
yet looks so deadly strong, that I am afraid she would dash me at her Foot in an
Instant, if I was to vex her. - So that with a Heart more ugly than her Face,
she frightens me sadly; and I am undone, to be sure, if God does not protect me;
for she is very, very wicked - indeed she is.
    This is but poor helpless Spite in me! - But the Picture is too near the
Truth notwithstanding. She sends me a Message just now, that I shall have my
Shoes again, if I will accept of her Company to walk with me in the Garden - To
waddle with me, rather, thought I.
    Well, 'tis not my Business to quarrel with her downright. I shall be watch'd
the narrower, if I do; and so I will go with the hated Wretch. - O for my dear
Mrs. Jervis! or rather, to be safe with my dear Father and Mother!
 
Oh I'm out of my Wits, for Joy! Just as I have got my Shoes on, I am told, John,
honest John, is come, on Horseback! - God bless him! What Joy is this! But I'll
tell you more by-and-by. I must not let her know, I am so glad to see this dear
blessed John, to be sure! - O but he looks sad, as I see him out of the Window!
What can be the Matter! - I hope my dear Parents are well, and Mrs. Jervis, and
Mr. Longman, and every body, my naughty Master not excepted - for I wish him to
live and repent of all his Wickedness to poor me.
 
O dear Heart! what a World do we live in! - I am now to take up my Pen again!
But I am in a sad Taking truly! Another puzzling Tryal, to be sure!
    Here is John, as I said; and the poor Man came to me, with Mrs. Jewkes, who
whisper'd, that I would say nothing about the Shoes, for my own sake, as she
said. The poor Man saw my Distress, and my red Eyes, and my haggard Looks, I
suppose; for I had had a sad Time of it, you must needs think; and he would have
hid it, but his Eyes run over. Oh Mrs. Pamela! said he; Oh Mrs. Pamela! - Well,
honest Fellow-servant, said I, I cannot help it at present! I am oblige'd to your
Honesty and Kindness, to be sure; and then he wept more. Said I, (for my Heart
was ready to break to see his Grief; for it is a touching thing to see a Man
cry) Tell me the worst! Is my Master coming? No, no, said he, and sobb'd. -
Well, said I, is there any News of my poor Father and Mother? how do they do? -
I hope, well, said he; I know nothing to the contrary: There is no Mishap, I
hope, to Mrs. Jervis, or Mr. Longman, or my Fellow-servants! No - said he, poor
Man! with a long N - o, as if his Heart would burst. Well, thank God then! said
I.
    The Man's a Fool, said Mrs. Jewkes, I think; what ado is here! why sure
thou'rt in Love, John. Dost thou not see young Madam is well? what ails thee,
Man? Nothing at all, said he, but I am such a Fool, as to cry for Joy to see
good Mrs. Pamela: But I have a Letter for you.
    I took it, and saw it was from my Master; so I put it in my Pocket. Mrs.
Jewkes, said I, you need not, I hope, see this. No, no, said she, I see who it
comes from, well enough; or else, may-be, I must desire to see it.
    And here is one for you, Mrs. Jewkes, said he; but yours, said he to me,
requires an Answer, which I must carry back early in the Morning, or to-night,
if I can.
    You have no more, John, said Mrs. Jewkes, for Mrs. Pamela, have you? No,
said he, I have not. But every body's kind Love and Service. Ay, to us both, to
be sure, said she. John, said I, I will read the Letter, and pray take care of
yourself; for you are a good Man. God bless you; and I rejoice to see you, and
hear from you all. But I long'd to say more, only that nasty Mrs. Jewkes -
    So I came up hither, and lock'd myself in my Closet, and open'd the Letter;
and this is a Copy of it.
 
        »My dearest Pamela,
            I Send purposely to you on an Affair that concerns you very much,
        and me something, but chiefly for your sake. I am conscious that I have
        proceeded by you in such a manner as may justly alarm your Fears, and
        give Concern to your honest Friends: And all my Pleasure is, that I can
        and will make you Amends for all the Disturbance I have given you. As I
        promise'd, I sent to your Father the Day after your Departure, that he
        might not be too much concern'd for you, and assured him of my Honour to
        you; and made an Excuse, such a one as ought to have satisfy'd him, for
        your not coming to him. But this was not sufficient, it seems; for he,
        poor Man! came to me next Morning, and set my Family almost in an Uproar
        about you.
            O my dear Girl, what Trouble has not your Obstinacy given me, and
        yourself too! I had no way to pacify him, but to promise, that he should
        see a Letter wrote from you to Mrs. Jervis, to satisfy him you were
        well.
            Now all my Care in this Case, is for your aged Parents, lest they
        should be fatally touched with Grief; and for you, whose Duty and
        Affection for them I know to be so strong and laudable: For this Reason
        I beg you will write a few Lines to them, and let me prescribe the Form
        for it; which I have done, putting myself as near as I can in your
        Place, and expressing your Sense, with a Warmth that I doubt will have
        too much possess'd you.
            After what is done, and which cannot now be help'd, but which, I
        assure you, shall turn out honourably for you, I expect not to be
        refuse'd; because I cannot possibly have any View in it, but to satisfy
        your Parents; which is more your Concern than mine; and so I must beg
        you will not alter one Tittle of the underneath. If you do, it will be
        impossible for me to send it, or that it should answer the good End I
        propose by it.
            I have promise'd to you, that I will not approach you without your
        Leave: If I find you easy, and not attempting to dispute or avoid your
        present Lot, I will keep to my Word, tho' 'tis a Difficulty upon me. Nor
        shall the present Restraint upon you last long: For I will assure you,
        that I am resolve'd very soon to convince you, how ardently I am
                                                                    Yours, etc.«
 
The Letter he prescribed for me was this:
 
        »Dear Mrs. Jervis,
            I Have, instead of being driven, by Robin, to my dear Father's, been
        carry'd off, to where I have no Liberty to tell. However, at present, I
        am not us'd hardly; and I write to beg you to let my dear Father and
        Mother, whose Hearts must be well-nigh broken, know, that I am well; and
        that I am, and, by the Grace of God, ever will be, their dutiful and
        honest Daughter, as well as
                                                            Your obliged Friend.
        I must neither send Date nor Place; but have most solemn Assurances of
        honourable Usage.«
 
I knew not what to do on this most strange Request and Occasion. But my Heart
bled so much for you, my dear Father, who had taken the Pains to go yourself and
inquire after your poor Daughter, as well as for my dear Mother, that I resolve'd
to write, and pretty much in the above1 Form, that it might be sent to pacify
you, till I could let you, some how or other, know the true State of the Matter.
And I wrote this to this strange wicked Master himself:
 
        »Sir,
            If you knew but the Anguish of my Mind, and how much I suffer by
        your dreadfully strange Usage of me, you would surely pity me, and
        consent to my Deliverance. What have I done, that I should be the only
        Mark of your Cruelty! I can possibly have no Hope, no Desire of living
        left me, because I cannot have the least Dependence, after what has
        pass'd, upon your solemn Assurances - It is impossible, surely, they
        should be consistent with the honourable Designs you profess.
            Nothing but your Promise of not seeing me here in my deplorable
        Bondage, can give me the least Ray of Hope.
            Don't drive the poor distressed Pamela upon a Rock, I beseech you,
        that may be the Destruction both of her Body and Soul! You don't know,
        Sir, how dreadfully I dare, weak as I am of Mind and Intellect, when my
        Virtue is in Danger. And, oh! hasten my Deliverance, that a poor
        unworthy Creature, below the Notice of so great a Man, may not be made
        the Sport of a high Condition, for no Reason in the World, but because
        she is not able to defend herself, nor has a Friend that can right her.
            I have, Sir, in part to show my Obedience to you, but indeed, I own,
        more to give Ease to the Minds of my poor distressed Parents, whose
        Poverty, one would think, should screen them from Violences of this
        sort, as well as their poor Daughter, follow'd pretty much the Form you
        have prescrib'd for me, to Mrs. Jervis; and the Alterations I have made,
        (for I could not help a few) are of such a Nature, as, tho' they show my
        Concern a little, yet must answer the End you are pleas'd to say you
        propose by this Letter.
            For God's sake, good Sir, pity my lowly Condition, and my present
        great Misery; and let me join with all the rest of your Servants to
        bless that Goodness, which you have extended to every one, but the poor
        afflicted, heart-broken
                                                                        PAMELA.«
 
I thought, when I had written this Letter, and that which he had prescrib'd, it
would look like placing a Confidence in Mrs. Jewkes, to show them to her; and I
show'd her at the same time my Master's Letter to me; for I believe'd, the Value
he express'd for me, would give me Credit with one who profess'd in every thing
to serve him right or wrong; tho' I had so little Reason, I fear, to pride
myself in it: And I was not mistaken; for it has seem'd to influence her not a
little, and she is at present mighty obliging, and runs over in my Praises; but
is the less to be minded, because she praises as much the Author of all my
Miseries, and his honourable Intentions, as she calls them; when I see, that she
is capable of thinking, as I fear he does, that every thing that makes for his
wicked Will, is honourable, tho' to the Ruin of the Innocent. Pray God I may
find it otherwise. I hope, whatever the naughty Gentleman may intend, that I
shall be at least rid of her impertinent bold Way of Talk, when she seems to
think, by his Letter, that he means honourably.
 

         I am now come to Monday, the 5th Day of my Bondage and Misery.

I Was in Hope to have an Opportunity to see John, and have a little private Talk
with him before he went away; but it could not be. The poor Man's excessive
Sorrow made Mrs. Jewkes take it into her Head, to think he love'd me, and so she
brought up a Message to me from him this Morning, that he was going. I desire'd
he might come up to my Closet, as I call'd it; and she came with him: And the
honest Man, as I thought him, was as full of Concern as before, at taking Leave.
And I gave him my two Letters, the one for Mrs. Jervis, inclos'd in that for my
Master: But Mrs. Jewkes would see me seal them up, for fear of any other - I was
Surprise'd, at the Man's going away, to see him drop a Bit of Paper, just at the
Head of the Stairs, which I took up without Mrs. Jewkes's seeing me; but I was a
thousand times more Surprise'd, when I return'd to my Closet, and opening it,
read as follows:
 
        »Good Mrs. Pamela,
            I Am grieve'd to tell you how much you have been deceive'd and
        betray'd, and that by such a vile Dog as I. Little did I think it would
        come to this. But I must say, if ever there was a Rogue in the World, it
        is me. I have all along show'd your Letters to my Master: He employ'd me
        for that Purpose; and he saw every one before your Father and Mother,
        and then seal'd them up, and sent me with them. I had some Business that
        way; but not half so often as I pretended. And as soon as I heard how it
        was with you, I was ready to hang myself. You may well think I could not
        stand in your Presence. O vile, vile Wretch, to bring you to this! If
        you are ruin'd, I am the Rogue that caus'd it. All the Justice I can do
        you, is, to tell you, you are in vile Hands; and I am afraid will be
        undone in spite of all your sweet Innocence; and I believe I shall never
        live after I know it. If you can forgive me, you are exceeding good; but
        I shall never forgive myself, that's certain. Howsomever, it will do you
        no good to make this known; and may-hap I may live to do you Service. If
        I can, I will. I am sure I ought - Master kept your last two or three
        Letters, and did not send them at all. I am the most abandon'd Wretch of
        Wretches.
                                                                      J. ARNOLD.
        You see your Undoing has been long hatching. Pray take care of your
        sweet Self. Mrs. Jewkes is a Devil. But in my Master's t'other House you
        have not one false Heart, but myself. Out upon me for a Villain!«
 
My dear Father and Mother, when you come to this Place, I make no doubt your
Hair will stand an End, as mine does! - O the Deceitfulness of the Heart of Man!
- This John, that I took to be the honestest of Men; that you took for the same;
that was always praising you to me, and me to you, and for nothing so much as
for our honest Hearts; this very Fellow was all the while a vile Hypocrite, and
a perfidious Wretch, and helping to carry on my Ruin!
    But he says enough of himself; and I can only sit down with this sad
Reflection, That Power and Riches never want Tools to promote their vilest Ends,
and that there is nothing so hard to be known as the Heart of Man! - Yet I can
but pity the poor Wretch, since he seems to have some Remorse, and I believe it
best to keep his Wickedness secret; and, if it lies in my way, to encourage his
Penitence; for I may possibly make some Discoveries by it.
    One thing I should mention in this Place; he brought down, in a Portmanteau,
all the clothes and Things my Lady and Master had presented me, and moreover two
Velvet Hoods, and a Velvet Scarf, that used to be worn by my Lady; but I have no
Comfort in them!
    Mrs. Jewkes had the Portmanteau brought into my Closet, and she show'd me
what was in it; but then locked it up, and said, she would let me have what I
would out of it, when I asked; but if I had the Key, it might set me a wanting
to go abroad, may-be; and so the insolent Woman put it in her Pocket.
    I gave myself over to sad Reflections upon this strange and surprising
Discovery of John's, and wept much for him, and for myself too; for now I see,
as he says, my Ruin has been so long a hatching, that I can make no Doubt what
my Master's honourable Professions will end in. What a Heap of Names does the
poor Fellow call himself! But what must they deserve, who set him to work? O
what has this wicked Master to answer for, to be so corrupt himself, and to
corrupt others, who would have been innocent; and all to carry on further a more
corrupt Scene, and to ruin a poor Creature, who never did him Harm, nor wish'd
him any; and who can still pray for his Happiness, and his Repentance?
    I can but wonder what these Gentlemen, as they are called, can think of
themselves for these vile Doings? John had some Inducement; for he hoped to
please his Master, who rewarded him, and was bountiful to him; and the same may
be said, bad as she is, for this same odious Mrs. Jewkes. But what Inducement
has my Master for taking so much Pains to do the Devil's Work? - If he loves me,
as 'tis falsely called, must he therefore ruin me, and lay Traps for me, and
endeavour to make me as bad as himself? I cannot imagine what good the Undoing
of such a poor Creature as I can procure him! - To be sure, I am a very
worthless Body. People indeed say I am handsome; but if I was so, should not a
Gentleman prefer an honest Servant to a guilty Harlot? - And must he be more
earnest to seduce me, because I dread of all things to be seduced, and would
rather lose my Life than my Honesty!
    Well, these are strange things to me! I cannot account for them, for my
Share; but sure nobody will say, that these fine Gentlemen have any Temper but
their own wicked Wills! - This naughty Master could run away from me, when he
thought none but his Servants should know his base Attempts, in that sad Closet
Affair; but is it not strange, that he should not be afraid of the All-seeing
Eye, from which even that black poisonous Heart of his, and its most secret
Motions, could not be hid? - But what avail me these sorrowful Reflections? He
is and will be wicked; and I am, I fear, to be a Victim to his lawless Attempts,
if the God in whom I trust, and to whom I hourly pray, prevent it not!
 

                             Tuesday and Wednesday.

I Have been hinder'd, by this wicked Woman's watching me too close, from writing
on Tuesday; and so I will put both these Days together. I have been a little
Turn with her, for an Airing, in the Chariot, and walked several times in the
Garden; but have always her at my Heels.
    Mr. Williams came to see us, and took a Walk with us once; and while her
Back was just turn'd, (encourage'd by the Hint he had before given me) I said,
Sir, I see two Tiles upon that Parsley-bed; cannot one cover them with Mould,
with a Note between them, on Occasion? - A good Hint, said he; let that
Sun-flower by the Back-door of the Garden be the Place; I have a Key to that;
for it is my nearest way to the Town.
    So I was forced to begin. O what Inventions will Necessity be the Parent of!
I hugg'd myself with the Thought; and she coming to us, he said, as if he was
continuing the Discourse we were in; No, not extraordinary pleasant. What's
that? what's that? said Mrs. Jewkes - Only, said he, the Town, I'm saying, is
not very pleasant. No, indeed, said she, 'tis not; 'tis a poor Town, to my
thinking. Are there any Gentry in it? said I. And so we chatted on about the
Town, to deceive her. But my Deceit intended no Hurt to any body.
    We then talked of the Garden, how large and pleasant, and the like; and sat
down on the turfted Slope of the fine Fish-pond, to see the Fishes play upon the
Surface of the Water; and she said, I should angle if I would.
    I wish, said I, you'd be so kind to fetch me a Rod and Baits. Pretty
Mistress! said she - I know better than that, I'll assure you! at this time! - I
mean no Harm, said I, indeed. Let me tell you, said she, I know nobody has their
Thoughts more about them than you. A body ought to look to it, where you are.
But we'll angle a little to-morrow. Mr. Williams, who is much afraid of her,
turn'd the Discourse to a general Subject. I saunter'd in, and left them to talk
by themselves; but he went away to Town, and she was soon after me.
    I had got to my Pen and Ink; and I said, I want some Paper (putting what I
was about in my Bosom): You know I have wrote two Letters, and sent them by John
(O how his Name, poor guilty Fellow! grieves me). Well, said she, you have some
left; one Sheet did for those two Letters. Yes, said I, but I used half another
for a Wrapper, you know; and see how I scribbled the other Half; and so I shewd
her a Parcel of broken Scraps of Verses, which I had try'd to recollect, and
which I had wrote purposely that she might see, and think me usually employ'd to
such idle Purposes. Ay, said she, so you have; well, I'll give you two Sheets
more; but let me see how you dispose of them, either written or blank. Well,
thinks I, I hope still, Argus, to be too hard for thee. Now Argus, the Poets
say, had an hundred Eyes, and was made to watch with them all, as she is.
    She brought me the Paper, and said, Now, Madam, let me see you write
something. I will, said I; and took the Pen, and wrote, »I wish Mrs. Jewkes
would be as good to me, as I would be to her, if I had it in my Power!« - That's
pretty now! said she; well, I hope I am; but what then? »Why then (wrote I) she
would do me the Favour to let me know, what I have done to be made her Prisoner;
and what she thinks is to become of me.« Well, and what then, said she? »Why
then, of Consequence, (scribbled I) she would let me see her Instructions, that
I may know how far to blame her, or acquit her.«
    Thus I fooled on, to show her my Fondness for scribbling; for I had no
Expectation of any Good from her; that so she might suppose I employ'd myself,
as I said, to no better Purpose at other times: For she will have it, that I am
upon some Plot, I am so silent, and love so much to be by myself. - She would
have had me go on a little further. No, said I, you have not answer'd me. Why,
said she, what can you doubt, when my Master himself assures you of his Honour?
Ay, says I; but lay your Hand to your Heart, Mrs. Jewkes, and tell me, if you
yourself believe him. Yes, said she, to be sure I do. But, said I, what do you
call Honour? - Why, said she, what does he call Honour, think you? - Ruin!
Shame! Disgrace! said I, I fear! - Pho, pho, said she; if you have any Doubt
about it, he can best explain his own Meaning! - I'll send him word to come to
satisfy you, if you will! - Horrid Creature! said I, all in a Fright! - Can'st
thou not stab me to the Heart? I'd rather thou wouldst, than say such another
Word! - But I hope there is no Thought of his coming.
    She had the Wickedness to say, No, no; he don't intend to come, as I know of
- But if I was he, I would not be long away! - What means the Woman, said I? -
Means! said she (turning it off); why I mean, I would come, if I was he, and put
an End to all your Fears - by making you as happy as you wish. 'Tis out of his
Power, said I, to make me happy, great and rich as he is, but by leaving me
innocent, and giving me Liberty to go to my dear Father and Mother.
    She went away soon after, and I ended my Letter, in Hopes to have an
Opportunity to lay it in the appointed Place. So I went to her, and said; I
suppose, as it is not dark, I may take another Turn in the Garden. 'Tis too
late, said she; but if you will go, don't stay, and, Nan, see and attend Madam,
as she called me.
    So I went towards the Pond, the Wench following me, and dropped purposely my
Hussy: And when I came near the Tiles, I said, Mrs. Ann, I have dropped my Hussy;
be so kind to look for it. I had it by the Pond-side. The Wench went to look,
and I splipped the Note between the Tiles, and cover'd them as quick as I could
with the light Mould, quite unperceiv'd; and the Maid finding the Hussy, I took
it, and saunter'd in again, and met Mrs. Jewkes coming to see after me. What I
wrote was this:
 
        »Reverend Sir,
            The want of Opportunity to speak my Mind to you, I am sure will
        excuse this Boldness in a poor Creature that is betray'd hither, I have
        Reason to think, for the worst Purposes. You know something, to be sure,
        of my Story, my native Poverty, which I am not ashamed of, my late
        Lady's Goodness, and my Master's Designs upon me. 'Tis true, he promises
        Honour, and all that; but the Honour of the Wicked is Disgrace and Shame
        to the Virtuous. And he may think he may keep his Promises according to
        the Notions he may allow himself to hold; and yet, according to mine,
        and every good Body's beside, quite ruin me.
            I am so wretched, and ill treated by this Mrs. Jewkes, and she is so
        ill-principled a Woman, that as I may soon want the Opportunity which
        the happy Hint of this Day affords to my Hopes; so I throw myself at
        once upon your Goodness, without the least Reserve; for I cannot be
        worse than I am, should that fail me; which, I dare say, to your Power,
        it will not: For I see it, Sir, in your Looks, I hope it from your
        Cloth, and I doubt it not from your Inclination, in a Case circumstanced
        as my unhappy one is. For, Sir, in helping me out of my present
        Distress, you perform all the Acts of Religion in one; and the highest
        Mercy and Charity, both to a Body and a Soul of a poor Wretch, that,
        believe me, Sir, has, at present, not so much as in Thought, swerv'd
        from her Innocence.
            Is there not some way to be found out for my Escape, without Danger
        to yourself? Is there no Gentleman or Lady of Virtue in this
        Neighbourhood, to whom I may fly, only till I can find a way to get to
        my poor Father and Mother? Cannot Lady Davers be made acquainted with my
        sad Story, by your conveying a Letter to her? My poor Parents are so low
        in the World, they can do nothing but break their Hearts for me; and
        that, I fear, will be the End of it.
            My Master promises, if I will be easy, as he calls it, in my present
        Lot, he will not come down without my Consent. Alas! Sir, this is
        nothing. For what's the Promise of a Person, who thinks himself at
        Liberty to act as he has done by me? If he comes, it must be to ruin me;
        and come, to be sure, he will, when he thinks he has silenc'd the
        Clamours of my Friends, and lulled me, as no doubt he hopes, into a
        fatal Security.
            Now, therefore, Sir, is all the Time I have to work and struggle for
        the Preservation of my Honesty. If I stay till he comes, I am undone.
        You have a Key to the back Garden-door; I have great Hopes from that.
        Study, good Sir, and contrive for me. I will faithfully keep your
        Secret. - Yet I should be loth to have you injur'd for me!
            I say no more, but commit this to the happy Tiles, and to the Bosom
        of that Earth from which I hope my Deliverance will take Root, and bring
        forth such Fruit, as may turn to my inexpressible Joy, and your eternal
        Reward, both here and hereafter. As shall ever pray,
                                            Your most oppressed humble Servant.«
 

                                   Thursday.

This completes a fatal Week since my setting out, as I hoped, to see you, my
dear Father and Mother. O how different my Hopes then, from what they are now!
Yet who knows what these happy Tiles may produce!
    But I must tell you, first, how I have been beaten by Mrs. Jewkes! 'Tis very
true!
    My Impatience was great to walk in the Garden, to see if any thing had
offer'd, answerable to my Hopes. But this wicked Mrs. Jewkes would not let me go
without her; and she said she was not at Leisure. We had a great many Words
about it; for I said, it was very hard I could not be trusted to walk by myself
in the Garden for a little Air; but must be dogg'd and watch'd worse than a
Thief.
    She still pleaded her Instructions, and said she was not to trust me out of
her Sight: And you had better, said she, be easy and contented, I assure you.
For I have worse Orders than you have yet found; and if you remember, said she,
what you said when Mr. Williams was with us, asking if there were any Gentry in
the Neighbourhood, it makes me suspect you want to get away to them, to tell
your sad dismal Story, as you call it.
    My Heart was at my Mouth; for I fear'd by that Hint, she had seen my Letter
under the Tiles: O how uneasy I was! At last she said, Well, since you take on
so, you may take a Turn, and I will be with you in a Minute.
    I went out; and when I was out of the Sight of her Window, I speeded towards
the hopeful Place; but was soon forced to slacken my Pace, by her odious Voice;
Hey-day, why so nimble, and so fast? said she: What! are you upon a Wager? I
stopped for her, till her pursy Sides were waddled up to me; and she held by my
Arm, half out of Breath: So I was forced to pass by the dear Place, without
daring to look at it.
    The Gardener was at work a little further, and so we looked upon him, and I
began to talk about his Art; but she said softly, My Instructions are, not to
let you be so familiar with the Servants. Why, said I, are you afraid I should
confederate with them to commit a Robbery upon my Master? May-be I am, said the
odious Wretch; for to rob him of yourself, would be the worst that could happen
to him, in his Opinion.
    And pray, said I, walking on, how came I to be his Property? What Right has
he in me, but such as a Thief may plead to stolen Goods? - Why, was ever the
like heard, says she! - This is downright Rebellion, I protest! Well, well,
Lambkin, (which the Foolish often calls me) if I was in his Place, he should not
have his Property in you long questionable. Why, what would you do, said I, if
you was he? - Not stand shill-I, shall-I, as he does; but put you and himself
both out of your Pain. - Why, Jezebel, said I, ( I could not help it); would you
ruin me by Force? - Upon this she gave me a deadly Slap upon my Shoulder: Take
that, said she; who do you call Jezebel?
    I was so scar'd, (for you never beat me, my dear Father and Mother, in your
Lives) that I was as one thunder-struck; and looked round, as if I wanted
somebody to help me; but, alas! I had nobody; and said, at last, rubbing my
Shoulder, Is this too in your Instructions? - Alas! for me! am I to be beaten
too? and so I fell a crying, and threw myself upon the Grass-walk we were upon.
- Said she, in a great Pet, I won't be call'd such Names, I'll assure you. Marry
come up! I see you have a Spirit! You must and shall be kept under. I'll manage
such little provoking Things as you, I warrant ye! Come, come, we'll go in
Doors, and I'll lock you up, and you shall have no Shoes, nor any thing else, if
this is to be the Case?
    I didn't know what to do. This was a cruel thing to me, and I blam'd myself
for my free Speech; for now I had given her some Pretence; and Oh! thinks I,
here I have, by my Malapertness, ruin'd the only Project I had left.
    The Gardener saw this Scene; but she called to him, Well, Jacob, what do you
stare at! Pray mind what you're upon. And away he walk'd, to another Quarter,
out of Sight.
    Well, thinks I, I must put on the Dissembler a little, I see. She took my
Hand roughly; Come, get up, said she, and come in Doors. - I'll Jezebel you, I
warrant ye! - Why, dear Mrs. Jewkes, said I - None of your Dears and your
Coaxing, said she; why not Jezebel again! - She was in a fearful Passion, I saw,
and I was half out of my Wits. Thinks I, I have often heard Women blam'd for
their Tongues; I wish mine had been shorter. But I can't go in, said I, indeed I
can't! - Why, said she, can't you? I'll warrant I can take such a thin Body as
you are under my Arm, and carry you in, if you won't walk. You don't know my
Strength - Yes, but I do, said I, too well; and will you not use me worse when I
come in? - So I arose, and she mutter'd to herself all the way, She to be a
Jezebel with me, that had used me so well! and such-like.
    When I came near the House, I said, sitting down upon a Settle-bench, Well,
I will not go in, till you say, you will forgive me, Mrs. Jewkes - If you will
forgive my calling you that Name, I will forgive your beating me - She sat down
by me, and seem'd in a great Pucker, and said, Well, come, I will forgive you
for this time; and so kissed me, as a Mark of Reconciliation - But pray, said I,
tell me where I am to walk, and go, and give me what Liberty you can; and when I
know the most you can favour me with, you shall see I will be as content as I
can; and not ask you for more.
    Why, said she, that's something like: I wish I could give you all the
Liberty you desire; for you must think it is no Pleasure to me to tie you to my
Petticoat, as it were, and not to let you stir without me - But People that will
do their Duties, must have some Trouble; and what I do, is to serve as good a
Master, to be sure, as lives - Ay, says I, to every body but me! - He loves you
too well, to be sure, said she, and that's the Reason; so you ought to bear it.
I say, love, said I! Come, said she, don't let the Wench see you have been
crying, nor tell her any Tales; for you won't tell them fairly, I am sure; and
I'll send her, and you shall take another Walk in the Garden, if you will.
May-be, said she, it will get you a Stomach to your Dinner; for you don't eat
enough to keep Life and Soul together. You are Beauty to the Bone, said the
strange Wretch, or you could not look so well as you do, with so little Stomach,
so little Rest, and so much pining and whining for nothing at all. Well, thought
I, say what thou wilt, so I can be rid of thy bad Tongue and Company: And I
hop'd to find some Opportunity now, to come at my Sun-flower. But I walked the
other way, to take that in my Return, to avoid Suspicion.
    I forced my Discourse to the Wench; but it was all upon general things; for
I find she is asked after every thing I say and do. When I came near the Place,
as I had been devising, I said, Pray, step to the Gardener, and ask him to
gather a Sallad for me to Dinner. She called out, Jacob! - Said I, he can't hear
you so far off; and pray tell him, I should like a Cucumber too, if he has one.
When she had stepped about a Bow-shot from me, I popt down, and whipped my Fingers
under the upper Tile, and pulled out a little Letter, without Direction, and
thrust it in my Bosom, trembling for Joy. She was with me before I could well
secure it; and I was in such a taking, that I feared I should discover myself.
You seem frighted, Madam, said she: Why, said I, with a lucky Thought, (alas!
your poor Daughter will make an Intriguer by-and-by; but I hope an innocent
one!) I stoopt to smell at the Sun-flower, and a great nasty Worm run into the
Ground, that startled me; for I don't love Worms. Said she, Sun-flowers don't
smell. So I find, said I. And so we walked in; and Mrs. Jewkes said, Well, you
have made haste in - You shall go another time.
    I went up to my Closet, lock'd myself in, and opening my Letter, found in it
these Words:
 
        »I Am infinitely concern'd for your Distress. I most heartily wish it
        may be in my Power to serve and save so much Innocence, Beauty and
        Merit. My whole Dependence is upon the 'Squire; and I have a near View
        of being provided for by his Goodness to me. But yet, I would sooner
        forfeit all my Hopes upon him, and trust in God for the rest, than not
        assist you, if possible. I never look'd upon Mr. B. in the Light he now
        appears to me in, in your Case. To be sure, he is no profess'd Deboshee.
        But I am entirely of Opinion, you should, if possible, get out of his
        Hands, and especially as you are in very bad ones in Mrs. Jewkes's.
            We have here the Widow Lady Jones, Mistress of a good Fortune, and a
        Woman of Virtue, I believe. We have also old Sir Simon Darnford, and his
        Lady, who is a good Woman; and they have two Daughters. All the rest are
        but middling People, and Traders, at best. I will try, if you please,
        either Lady Jones, or Lady Darnford, if they will permit you to take
        Refuge with them. I see no Probability of keeping myself conceal'd in
        this Matter; but will, as I said, risk all things to serve you; for I
        never saw a Sweetness and Innocence like yours; and your hard Case has
        attached me entirely to you; for I know, as you so happily express, if I
        can serve you in this Case, I shall thereby perform all the Acts of
        Religion in one.
            As to Lady Davers, I will convey a Letter, if you please, to her;
        but it must not be from our Post-house, I give you Caution; for the Man
        owes all his Bread to the 'Squire, and his Place too; and I believe, by
        something that dropped from him, over a Can of Ale, has his Instructions.
        You don't know how you are surrounded; all which confirms me in your
        Opinion, that no Honour is meant you, let what will be professed; and I
        am glad you want no Caution on that Head.
            Give me Leave to say, that I had heard much in your Praise, both as
        to Person and Mind; but I think greatly short of what you deserve: My
        Eyes convince me of the one, your Letter of the other. For fear of
        losing the present lucky Opportunity, I am longer than otherwise I
        should be. But I will not inlarge, only to assure you, that I am, to the
        best of my Power,
Your faithful Friend and Servant,
                                                                ARTHUR WILLIAMS.
        I will come once every Morning, and once every Evening, after
        School-time, to look for your Letters. I'll come in, and return without
        going into the House, if I see the Coast clear: Otherwise, to avoid
        Suspicion, I'll come in.«
 
I instantly, to this pleasing Letter, wrote as follows:
 
        »Reverend Sir,
            O How answerable to your Function, and your Character, is your kind
        Letter! God bless you for it. I now think I am beginning to be happy. I
        should be sorry you should suffer on my Account; but I hope it will be
        made up to you an hundred-fold, by that God whom you so faithfully
        serve. I should be too happy, could I ever have it in my Power to
        contribute in the least to it. But, alas! to serve me, must be for God's
        sake only; for I am poor and lowly in Fortune; though in Mind, I hope,
        too high to do a mean or unworthy Deed, to gain a Kingdom. But I lose
        Time.
            Any way you think best, I shall be pleased with; for I know not the
        Persons, nor in what manner it is best to apply to them. I am glad of
        the Hint you so kindly give me of the Man at the Post-house. I was
        thinking of opening a way for myself by Letter, when I could have
        Opportunity; but I see more and more, that I am indeed strangely
        surrounded with Dangers; and that there is no Dependence to be made on
        my Master's Honour.
            I should think, Sir, if either of those Ladies would give Leave, I
        might some way get out by Favour of your Key; and as it is impossible,
        watched as I am, to know when it can be, suppose, Sir, you could get one
        made by it, and put it, by the next Opportunity, under the Sun- flower?
        - I am sure no Time is to be lost; because it is rather my Wonder, that
        she is not thoughtful about this Key, than otherwise; for she forgets
        not the minutest thing. But, Sir, if I had this Key, I could, if these
        Ladies would not shelter me, run away any-where. And if I was once out
        of the House, they could have no Pretence to force me in again; for I
        have done no Harm, and hope to make my Story good to any compassionate
        Body; and by this way you need not be known. Torture should not wring it
        from me, I assure you.
            One thing more, good Sir. Have you no Correspondence with my
        Master's Family? By that means, may-be, I could be informed of his
        Intentions of coming hither, and when. I enclose you a Letter of a
        deceitful Wretch; for I can trust you with any thing, poor John Arnold.
        Its Contents will tell why I enclose it. Perhaps, by his means something
        may be discover'd; for he seems willing to atone for his Treachery to
        me, by the Intimation of future Service. I leave the Hint for you to
        improve upon, and am, Reverend Sir,
Your for ever obliged
                                                           and thankful Servant.
        I hope, Sir, by your Favour, I could send a little Packet, now-and-then,
        some how, to my poor Father and Mother. I have a little Stock of Money,
        about five or six Guineas: Shall I put half in your Hands, to defray a
        Man and Horse, or any other Incidents?«
 
I had time but just to transcribe this, before I was called to Dinner; and I put
that for Mr. Williams, with a Wafer in it, in my Bosom, to get an Opportunity to
lay it in the dear Place. O good Sirs! Of all the Flowers in the Garden, the
Sun-flower, sure, is the loveliest! - It is a propitious one to me! How nobly my
Plot succeeds! But I begin to be afraid my Writings may be discover'd; for they
grow large! I stitch them hitherto in my Under-coat, next my Linen. But if this
Brute should search me! - I must try to please her, and then she won't.
 
Well, I am but just come off from a Walk in the Garden; and have deposited my
Letter by a simple Wile. I got some Horse-beans; and we took a Turn in the
Garden, to angle, as Mrs. Jewkes had promise'd me. She baited the Hook, and I
held it, and soon hooked a lovely Carp. Play it, play it, said she; I did, and
brought it to the Bank. A sad Thought just then came into my Head; and I took
it, and threw it in again; and O the Pleasure it seem'd to have, to flounce in,
when at Liberty! - Why this? says she. O Mrs. Jewkes! said I, I was thinking
this poor Carp was the unhappy Pamela. I was likening you and myself to my
naughty Master. As we hooked and deceived the poor Carp, so was I betrayed by
false Baits; and when you said, Play it, play it, it went to my Heart, to think
I should sport with the Destruction of the poor Fish I had betray'd; and I could
not but fling it in again: And did you not see the Joy with which the happy Carp
flounced from us! O! said I, may some good merciful Body procure me my Liberty
in the same manner; for, to be sure, I think my Danger equal!
    Lord bless thee! said she, what a Thought is there! - Well, said I, I can
angle no more. I'll try my Fortune, said she, and took the Rod. Well, said I, I
will plant Life then, if I can, while you are destroying it. I have some
Horse-beans here, and I'll go and stick them into one of the Borders, to see how
long they will be coming up; and I will call them my Garden.
    So you see, dear Father and Mother (I hope now you will soon see; for,
may-be, if I can't get away so soon myself, I may send my Papers, some how) I
say, you will see, that this furnishes me a good Excuse to look after my Garden
another time; and if the Mould should look a little freshish, it won't be so
much suspected. She mistrusted nothing of this; and I went and stuck in here and
there my Beans, for about the Length of five Ells, of each side of the
Sun-flower; and easily reposited my Letter. And not a little proud am I of this
Contrivance. Sure something will do at last. God grant it!
 

                               Friday, Saturday.

I Have just now told you a Trick of mine; now I'll tell you a Trick of this
wicked Woman's. She comes up to me; says she, I have a Bill I cannot change till
to-morrow; and a Tradesman wants his Money most sadly; and I don't love to turn
poor Tradesfolks away without their Money: Have you any about you? How much will
do, said I? I have a little! Oh! said she, I want eight Pounds. Alack, said I, I
have but between five and six. Lend me that, said she, till to-morrow. I did so;
and she went down Stairs: And when she came up, she laugh'd, and said, Well, I
have paid the Tradesman: Said I, I hope you'll give it me again to-morrow. At
that, the Assurance, laughing loud, said, Why, what Occasion have you for Money?
To tell you the Truth, Lambkin, I didn't want it. I only fear'd you might make a
bad Use of it; and now I can trust Nan with you a little oftener, especially as
I have got the Key of your Portmanteau; so that you can neither corrupt her with
Money or fine things. Never did any body look more silly than I! - O how I
fretted to be so foolishly outwitted! - And the more, as I had hinted to Mr.
Williams, to have some to defray the Charges of my sending to you. I cry'd for
Vexation! - And now I have not five Shillings left to support me, if I can get
away! - Was ever such a Fool as I! I must be priding myself in my Contrivances
indeed! Said I, was this in your Instructions, Wolfkin? for she called me
Lambkin. Jezebel, you mean, Child, said she! - Well, I now forgive you heartily;
let's buss, and be Friends! - Out upon you, said I! I cannot bear you. But I
durst not call her Names again; for I dread her huge Paw most sadly. The more I
think of this thing, the more do I regret it!
 
This Night the Man from the Post-house brought a Letter for Mrs. Jewkes, in
which was one enclosed to me: She brought it me up. Said she, Well, my good
Master don't forget us. He has sent you a Letter; and see what he writes to me.
So she read, That he hoped her fair Charge was well, happy, and contented: Ay to
be sure, said I, I can't choose! - That he did not doubt her Care and Kindness to
me; that I was very dear to him, and she could not use me too well; and the
like. There is a Master for you, said she! Sure you will love and pray for him.
I desire'd her to read the rest. No, no, said she, but I won't. Said I, Are there
any Orders for taking my Shoes away, and for beating me? No, said she, nor about
Jezebel neither. Well, said I, I cry Truce; for I have no mind to be beat again.
I thought, said she, we had forgiven one another.
 
My Letter is as follows:
 
        »My dearest Pamela,
            I Begin to repent already, that I have bound myself, by Promise, not
        to see you till you give me Leave; for I think the Time very tedious.
        Can you place so much Confidence in me, as to invite me down? Assure
        yourself that your Generosity shall not be thrown away upon me. I the
        rather would press this, as I am uneasy for your Uneasiness; for Mrs.
        Jewkes acquaints me that you take your Restraint very heavily; and
        neither eat, drink, nor rest well; and I have too great an Interest in
        your Health, not to wish to shorten the Time of this Trial to you; which
        will be the Consequence of my coming down to you. John too, has
        intimated to me your Concern, with a Grief that hardly gave him Leave
        for Utterance; a Grief that a little alarm'd my Tenderness for you. Not
        that I fear any thing, but that your Disregard to me, which yet my proud
        Heart will hardly permit me to own, may throw you upon some Rashness,
        that might encourage a daring Hope: But how poorly do I descend, to be
        anxious about such a Menial as he? - I will only say one thing, that if
        you will give me Leave to attend you at the Hall, (consider who it is
        that requests this from you as a Favour) I solemnly declare, that you
        shall have Cause to be pleased with this obliging Mark of your
        Confidence in me, and Consideration for me; and if I find Mrs. Jewkes
        has not behaved to you with the Respect due to one I so dearly love, I
        will put it entirely into your Power to discharge her the House, if you
        think proper; and Mrs. Jervis, or who else you please, shall attend you
        in her place. This I say on a Hint John gave me, as if you resented
        something from that Quarter. Dearest Pamela, answer favourably this
        earnest Request of one that cannot live without you, and on whose Honour
        to you, you may absolutely depend; and so much the more, as you place a
        Confidence in it. I am, and assuredly ever will be,
                                            Your faithful and affectionate, etc.
        You will be glad, I know, to hear your Father and Mother are well, and
        easy upon your last Letter. That gave me a Pleasure that I am resolved
        you shall not repent. Mrs. Jewkes will convey to me your Answer.«
 
I but slightly read this Letter for the present, to give way to one I had hopes
of finding by this time, from Mr. Williams. I took, in Mrs. Jewkes's Company, an
Evening Turn, as I call'd it, and walking by the Place, I said, Do you think
Mrs. Jewkes, any of my Beans can have struck since Yesterday? She laugh'd, and
said, You are a poor Gardener; but I love to see you divert yourself. She
passing on, I found my good Friend had provided for me, and slipping it in my
Bosom, for her Back was towards me, Here, said I, having a Bean in my Hand, is
one of them; but it has not stirr'd. No, to be sure, said she; and turn'd upon
me a most wicked Jest, unbecoming the Mouth of a Woman, about Planting, etc. -
When I came in, I hy'd to my Closet, and read as follows.
 
        »I am sorry to tell you, that I have a Repulse from Lady Jones. She is
        concerned at your Case, she says, but don't care to make herself
        Enemies. I apply'd to Lady Darnford, and told her in the most pathetick
        manner I could, your sad Story, and show'd her your more pathetick
        Letter. I found her well dispos'd; but she would advise with Sir Simon,
        who, by-the-bye, is not a Man of extraordinary Character for Virtue; but
        he said to his Lady, in my Presence, Why, what is all this, my Dear, but
        that the 'Squire our Neighbour has a mind to his Mother's Waiting-maid?
        And if he takes care she wants for nothing, I don't see any great Injury
        will be done her. He hurts no Family by this.« (So, my dear Father and
        Mother, it seems that poor Peoples Honesty is to go for nothing). »And I
        think, Mr. Williams, you, of all Men, should not engage in this Affair,
        against your Friend and Patron. He spoke this in so determin'd a manner,
        that the Lady had done; and I had only to beg no Notice should be taken
        of the Matter as from me.
            I have hinted your Case to Mr. Peters, the Minister of this Parish,
        but I am concern'd to say, that he imputed selfish Views to me, as if I
        would make an Interest in your Affections, by my Zeal. And when I
        represented the Duties of our Function, etc. and protested my
        Disinterestedness, he coldly said, I was very good; but was a young Man,
        and knew little of the World. And tho' 'twas a Thing to be lamented, yet
        when he and I set about to reform the World in this respect, we should
        have enough upon our Hands; for, he said, it was too common and
        fashionable a Case to be withstood by a private Clergyman or two: And
        then he utter'd some Reflections upon the Conduct of the Fathers of the
        Church, in regard to the first Personages of the Realm, as a
        Justification of his Coldness on this score.
            I represented the different Circumstances of your Affair; that other
        Women liv'd evilly by their own Consent, but to serve you, was to save
        an Innocence that had but few Examples; and then I show'd him your
        Letter.
            He said, It was prettily written; and he was sorry for you; and that
        your good Intentions ought to be encourage'd; but what, said he, would
        you have me do, Mr. Williams? Why, suppose Sir, said I, you give her
        Shelter in your House, with your Spouse and Niece, till she can get to
        her Friends? - What, and imbroil myself with a Man of the 'Squire's
        Power and Fortune! No, not I, I'll assure you! - And he would have me
        consider what I was about. Besides, she owns, said he, that he promises
        to do honourably by her; and her Shyness will procure her good Terms
        enough; for he is no covetous nor wicked Gentleman; except in this Case;
        and 'tis what all young Gentlemen will do.
            I am greatly concern'd for him, I assure you; but am not discourag'd
        by this ill Success, let what will come of it, if I can serve you.
            I don't hear, as yet, that the 'Squire is coming; I am glad of your
        Hint as to that unhappy Fellow John Arnold; something, perhaps, will
        strike out from that, which may be useful. As to your Pacquets, if you
        seal them up, and lay them in the usual Place, if you find it not
        mistrusted, I will watch an Opportunity to convey them; but if they are
        large, you had best be very cautious. This evil Woman, I find, mistrusts
        me much.
            I just hear that the Gentleman is dying, whose Living the 'Squire
        has promise'd me. I have almost a Scruple of taking it, as I am acting so
        contrary to his Desires; but I hope he'll one Day thank me for it. As to
        Money, don't think of it at present. Be assured you may command all in
        my Power to do for you, without Reserve.
            I believe, when we hear he is coming, it will be best to make use of
        the Key, which I shall soon procure you; and I can borrow a Horse for
        you, I believe, to wait within half a Mile of the Back-Door, over the
        Pasture; and will contrive by myself, or somebody, to have you conducted
        some Miles distant, to some one of the Villages thereabouts; so don't be
        discomforted, I beseech you. I am, excellent Mrs. Pamela,
                                                     Your faithful Friend, etc.«
 
I made a thousand sad Reflections upon the former Part of this honest
Gentleman's kind Letter; and but for the Hope he gave me at last, should have
given up my Case as quite desperate. I then wrote to thank him most gratefully
for his kind Endeavour; to lament the little Concern the Gentry had for my
deplorable Case; the Wickedness of the World to first give way to such
iniquitous Fashions, and then plead the Frequency of them against the Offer to
amend them; and how unaffected People were to the Distresses of others. I
recall'd my former Hint as to writing to Lady Davers, which I fear'd, I said,
would only serve to apprise her Brother, that she knew his wicked Scheme, and
more harden him in it, and make him come down the sooner, and to be the more
determin'd on my Ruin; besides, that it might make Mr. Williams guess'd at, as a
means of conveying my Letter; and being very fearful, that if that good Lady
would interest herself in my Behalf, (which was a Doubt, because she both love'd
and fear'd her Brother) it would have no Effect upon him; and that, therefore, I
would wait the happy Event I might hope for from his kind Assistance in the Key
and the Horse, etc. I intimated my Master's Letter, begging to be permitted to
come down; was fearful it might be sudden; and that I was of Opinion no Time was
to be lost; for we might lose all our Opportunities, etc. telling him the
Money-trick of this vile Woman, etc.
    I had not time to take a Copy of this Letter, I was so watch'd. But when I
had it ready in my Bosom, I was easy. And so I went to seek out Mrs. Jewkes, and
told her I would have her Advice upon the Letter I had receive'd from my Master,
which Point of Confidence in her, pleas'd her not a little. Ay, said she, now
this is something like. Why, we'll take a Turn in the Garden, or where you
please. I pretended it was indifferent to me; and so we walk'd into the Garden.
I began to talk to her of the Letter; but was far from acquainting her with all
the Contents; only that he wanted my Consent to come down, and hop'd she us'd me
kindly, etc. And I said, Now, Mrs. Jewkes, let me have your Advice as to this.
Why then, said she, I will give it you freely. E'en send to him to come down. It
will highly oblige him, and I dare say you'll fare the better for it. How the
better? said I - I dare say, you think yourself that he intends my Ruin. I hate,
said she, that foolish Word; your Ruin! - Why ne'er a Lady in the Land may live
happier than you, if you will, or be more honourably used.
    Well, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, I shall not at this time dispute with you about
the Words Ruin or honourable. I thank God, we have quite different Notions of
both; but now I will speak plainer than ever I did. Do you think he intends to
make Proposals to me, as to a kept Mistress, or kept Slave rather; or do you
not? - Why, Lambkin, said she, what dost thou think thyself? - I fear, said I,
he does. Well, said she, but if he does, for I know nothing of the Matter, I
assure you; you may have your own Terms - I see that; for you may do any thing
with him.
    I could not bear this to be spoken, tho' it was all I fear'd of a long time;
and began to exclaim most sadly. Nay, said she, he may marry you, as far as I
know. - No, no, said I, that cannot be - I neither desire nor expect it. His
Condition don't permit me to have such a Thought, and that, and the whole Series
of his Conduct to me, convinces me of the contrary; and you would have me invite
him to come down, would you? Is not this to invite my Ruin?
    'Tis what I would do, said she, in your Place; and if it was to be as you
think, I should rather be out of my Pain, than live in continual Frights and
Apprehensions, as you do. No, said I, an Hour of Innocence is worth an Age of
Guilt; and were my Life to be made ever so miserable by it, I should never
forgive myself, if I were not to lengthen out to the longest Minute my happy
Time of Honesty. Who knows what God may do for me!
    Why, may-be, said she, as he loves you so well, you may prevail upon him by
your Prayers and Tears; and for that Reason, I should think you'd better let him
come down. Well, said I, I will write him a Letter, because he expects an
Answer, or may-be he will make that a Pretence to come down. You'll send it for
me. How can it go?
    »I'll take care of that, said she; it is in my Instructions« - Ay, thought
I, so I doubt, by the Hint Mr. Williams gave me, about the Post-house.
 
The Gardener coming by, I said, Mr. Jacob I have planted a few Beans, and I call
it my Garden. It is just by the Door out-yonder, I'll show it you; pray don't
dig them up. So I went on with him; and when we had turn'd the Alley out of her
Sight, and were near the Place, said I, Pray step to Mrs. Jewkes, and ask her if
she has any more Beans for me to plant? He smile'd, I suppose at my Foolishness,
and I popt the Letter under the Mould, and stepped back, as if waiting for his
Return; which being near, was immediate, and she follow'd him. What should I do
with Beans? said she - and sadly scar'd me; for she whisper'd me, I am afraid of
some Fetch! you don't use to send of such simple Errands - What Fetch? said I;
it is hard I can neither stir, nor speak, but I must be suspected - Why, said
she, my Master writes me, that I must have all my Eyes about me; for, tho' you
are as innocent as a Dove, yet you're as cunning as a Serpent. But I'll forgive
you if you cheat me!
    Then I thought of my Money, and could have call'd her Names, had I dar'd:
And I said, Pray, Mrs. Jewkes, now you talk of forgiving me if I cheat you; be
so kind as to pay me my Money; for tho' I have no Occasion for it, yet I know
you was but in Jest, and intended to give it me again. You shall have it in a
proper time, said she; but, indeed, I was in earnest to get it out of your
Hands, for fear you should make an ill Use of it. And so we cavilled upon this
Subject as we walk'd in, and I went up to write my Letter to my Master; and, as
I intended to show it her, I resolved to write accordingly as to her Part of it;
for I made little Account of the Offer of Mrs. Jervis to me, instead of this
wicked Woman, (tho' the most agreeable thing that could have befallen me, except
my Escape from hence) nor indeed of any thing he said: For to be honourable, in
the just Sense of the Word, he need not have caus'd me to be run away with, and
confine'd as I am. I wrote as follows:
 
        »Honoured Sir,
            When I consider how easy it is for you to make me happy, since all I
        desire is to be permitted to go to my poor Father and Mother: When I
        reflect upon your former Proposal to me, in relation to a certain
        Person, not one Word of which is now mentioned; and upon my being in
        that strange manner run away with, and still kept here a miserable
        Prisoner; do you think, Sir, (pardon your poor Servant's Freedom; my
        Fears make me bold; do you think, I say) that your general Assurances of
        Honour to me, can have the Effect upon me, that, were it not for these
        Things, all your Words ought to have? - O good Sir! I too much
        apprehend, that your Notions of Honour and mine are very different from
        one another: And I have no other Hope but in your continued Absence. If
        you have any Proposals to make me, that are consistent with your
        honourable Professions, in my humble Sense of the Word, a few Lines will
        communicate them to me, and I will return such an Answer as befits me.
        But, Oh! what Proposals can one in your high Station have to make to one
        in my low one! I know what belongs to your Degree too well, to imagine,
        that any thing can be expected but sad Temptations, and utter Distress,
        if you come down; and you know not, Sir, when I am made desperate, what
        the wretched Pamela dares to do!
            Whatever Rashness you may impute to me, I cannot help it, but I wish
        I may not be forced upon any, that otherwise would never enter into my
        Thoughts. Forgive me, Sir, my Plainness; I should be loth to behave to
        my Master unbecomingly; but I must needs say, Sir, my Innocence is so
        dear to me, that all other Considerations are, and, I hope, shall ever
        be, treated by me as Niceties, that ought, for that, to be dispensed
        with. If you mean honourably, why, Sir, should you not let me know it
        plainly? Why is it necessary to imprison me, to convince me of it? And
        why must I be close watch'd and attended, hinder'd from stirring out,
        from speaking to any body, from going so much as to Church to pray for
        you, who have been till of late so generous a Benefactor to me? Why,
        Sir, I humbly ask, why all this, if you mean honourably? - It is not for
        me to expostulate so freely, but in a Case so near to me, with you, Sir,
        so infinitely my Superior. Pardon me, I hope you will; but as to any the
        least Desire of seeing you, I cannot so much as bear the dreadful
        Apprehension. Whatever you have to propose, whatever you intend by me,
        let my Assent be that of a free Person, mean as I am, and not of a
        sordid Slave, who is to be threatened and frightened into a Compliance,
        that your Conduct to her seems to imply would be otherwise abhorr'd by
        her. - My Restraint is indeed hard upon me. I am very uneasy under it.
        Shorten it, I beseech you, or - But I will not dare to say more, than
        that I am
                                        Your greatly oppressed unhappy Servant.«
 
After I had taken a Copy of this, I folded it up, and Mrs. Jewkes coming up,
just as I had done, sat down by me, and said, when she saw me direct it, I wish
you would tell me if you have taken my Advice, and consented to my Master's
coming down. If it will oblige you, said I, I will read it to you. That's good,
said she, then I'll love you dearly. - Says I, then you must not offer to alter
one Word. I won't, said she; so I read it to her, and she prais'd me much for my
Wording it; but said, she thought I push'd the Matter very close; and it would
better bear talking of, than writing about. She wanted an Explanation or two, as
about the Proposal to a certain Person; but I said she must take it as she heard
it. Well, well, said she, I make no doubt you understand one another, and will
do so more and more. I seal'd up the Letter, and she undertook to convey it.
 

                                    Sunday.

For my part, I knew it in vain, to expect to have Leave to go to Church now, and
so I did not ask; and I was the more indifferent, because, if I might have had
Permission, the Sight of the neighbouring Gentry, who had despis'd my
Sufferings, would have given me great Regret and Sorrow, and it was impossible I
should have edify'd under any Doctrine preached by Mr. Peters: So I apply'd
myself to my private Devotions.
    Mr. Williams came Yesterday, and this Day, as usual, and took my Letter; but
having no good Opportunity, we avoided one another's Conversation, and kept at a
Distance: But I was concern'd I had not the Key; for I would not have lost a
Moment in that Case, had it been me. When I was at my Devotions, Mrs. Jewkes
came up, and wanted me sadly to sing her a Psalm, as she had often on common
Days importun'd me for a Song upon the Spinnet; but I decline'd it, because my
Spirits were so low, I could hardly speak, nor car'd to be spoke to; but when
she was gone, I remembering the 137th Psalm to be a little touching, turn'd to
it, and took the Liberty to alter it to my Case more; I hope I did not sin in
it: But thus I turn'd it.
 

                                       I.

When sad I sat in B--n-hall,
All watched 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;
 

                                      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.
 

                                      IV.

Alas! said I, how can I frame
My heavy Heart to sing;
Or tune my Mind, while thus inthrall'd
By such a wicked Thing!
 



                                       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.
 

                                      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.
 

                                      VII.

And thou, Almighty, recompense
The Evils I endure,
From those who seek my sad Disgrace,
So causeless, to procure.
 

                                     VIII.

Remember, Lord, this Mrs. Jewkes,
When with a mighty Sound,
She cries, Down with her Chastity,
Down to the very Ground!
 



                                      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.
 

                          Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

I Write now with a little more Liking, tho' less Opportunity, because Mr.
Williams has got a large Parcel of my Papers safe, in his Hands, to send them to
you, as he has Opportunity; so I am not quite uselessly employ'd; and I am
deliver'd, besides, from the Fear of their being found, if I should be search'd,
or discover'd. I have been permitted to take an Airing five or six Miles, with
Mrs. Jewkes: But, tho' I know not the Reason, she watches me more closely than
ever; so that we have discontinued, by Consent, for these three Days, the
Sun-flower Correspondence.
    The poor Cook-maid has had a bad Mischance; for she has been hurt much by a
Bull in the Pasture, by the Side of the Garden, not far from the Back-door. Now
this Pasture I am to cross, which is about half a Mile, and then comes to a
Common, and near that a private Horse-road, where I hope to find an Opportunity
for escaping, as soon as Mr. Williams can get me a Horse, and has made all ready
for me: For he has got me the Key, which he put under the Mould, just by the
Door, as he found an Opportunity to hint to me.
    He just now has signify'd, that the Gentleman is dead, whose Living he has
had Hope of, and he came pretendedly to tell Mrs. Jewkes of it, and so could
speak this to her, before me. She wish'd him Joy; see what the World is! one
Man's Death is another Man's Joy: Thus we thrust out one another! - My hard Case
makes me serious. He found means to slide a Letter into my Hands, and is gone
away: He look'd at me with such Respect and Solemnness at Parting, that Mrs.
Jewkes said, Why, Madam, I believe our young Parson is half in Love with you -
Ah! Mrs. Jewkes, said I, he knows better. Said she, (I believe to sound me) Why
I can't see you can either of you do better; and I have lately been so touch'd
for you, seeing how heavily you apprehend Dishonour from my Master, that I think
it is Pity you should not have Mr. Williams.
    I knew this must be a Fetch of hers, because, instead of being troubled for
me, she had watched me closer, and him too; and so I said, There is not the Man
living, that I desire to marry; if I can but keep myself honest, it is all my
Desire; and to be a Comfort and Assistance to my poor Parents, if it should be
my happy Lot to be so, is the very Top of my Ambition. Well, but, said she, I
have been thinking very seriously, that Mr. Williams would make you a good
Husband, and as he will owe all his Fortune to my Master, he will be very glad,
to be sure, to be oblige'd to him for a Wife of his choosing: Especially, said
she, such a pretty one, and one so ingenious and genteelly educated.
    This gave me a Doubt, whether she knew of my Master's Intimation of that
sort formerly; and I asked her, if she had Reason to surmize, that that was in
View? No, she said; it was only her own Thought; but it was very likely that my
Master had either that in View, or something better for me. But, if I approv'd
of it, she would propose such a thing to her Master directly; and gave a
detestable Hint, that I might take Resolutions upon it, of bringing such an
Affair to Effect. I told her, I abhorr'd her Insinuation; and as to Mr.
Williams, I thought him a civil good sort of Man; but as on one side, he was
above me; so on the other, of all Things, I did not love a Parson. So finding
she could make nothing of me, she quitted the Subject.
    I will open his Letter by-and-by, and give you the Contents of it; for she
is up and down, so much, that I am afraid of her catching me.
 
Well, I see Providence has not abandon'd me. I shall be under no Necessity to
make Advances to Mr. Williams, if I was, as I am sure I am not, dispos'd to it.
This is his Letter.
 
        »I Know not how to express myself, lest I should appear to you to have a
        selfish View in the Service I would do you. But I really know but one
        effectual and honourable Way to disengage yourself, from the dangerous
        Situation you are in. It is that of Marriage with some Person that you
        could make happy in your Approbation. As for my own part, it would be,
        as Things stand, my apparent Ruin; and, worse still, I should involve
        you in Misery too. But yet, so great is my Veneration for you, and so
        entire my Reliance in Providence, on so just an Occasion, that I should
        think myself but too happy, if I might be accepted. I would, in this
        Case, forego all my Expectations, and be your Conductor to some safe
        Distance. But why do I say, in this Case? That I will do, whether you
        think fit to reward me so eminently or not. And I will, the Moment I
        hear of the 'Squire's setting out, (and I think now I have settled a
        very good Method of Intelligence of all his Motions) get the Horse
        ready, and myself to conduct you. I refer myself wholly to your Goodness
        and Direction, and am, with the highest Respect,
                                              Your most faithful humble Servant.
        Don't think this a sudden Resolution. I always admir'd your hear-say
        Character; and the Moment I saw you, wish'd to serve so much
        Excellence.«
 
What shall I say, my dear Father and Mother, to this unexpected Declaration? I
want now more than ever your Blessing and Direction. But after all, I have no
Mind to marry. I had rather live with you. But yet, I would marry a Man who begs
from Door to Door, and has no Home nor Being, rather than indanger my Honesty.
Yet, I cannot, methinks, hear of being a Wife. - After a thousand different
Thoughts, I wrote as follows.
 
        »Reverend Sir,
            I am much confused at the Contents of your last. You are much too
        generous, and I can't bear you should risk all your future Prospects
        for so unworthy a Creature. I cannot think of your Offer without equal
        Concern and Gratitude; for nothing but to avoid my utter Ruin can make
        me think of a Change of Condition; and so, Sir, you ought not to accept
        of such an involuntary Compliance, as mine would be, were I, upon the
        last Necessity, to yield to your very generous Proposal. I will rely
        wholly upon your Goodness to me, in assisting my Escape; but shall not,
        on your account principally, think of the Honour you propose for me, at
        present; and never, but at the Pleasure of my Parents, who, poor as they
        are, in such a weighty Point, are as much entitled to my Obedience and
        Duty, as if they were ever so rich. I beg you therefore, Sir, not to
        think of any thing from me, but everlasting Gratitude, which will always
        bind me to be
                                                     Your most obliged Servant.«
 

       Thursday, Friday, Saturday, the 14th, 15th and 16th of my Bondage.

Mrs. Jewkes has received a Letter, and is much civiller to me, and Mr. Williams
too, than she used to be. I wonder I have not one in Answer to mine to my
Master. I suppose I press'd the Matter too home to him; and he is angry. I am
not the more pleas'd for her Civility; for she is horrid cunning, and is not a
bit less watchful. I laid a Trap to get at her Instructions, which she carries
in the Bosom of her Stays, but it has not succeeded.
    My last Letter is come safe to Mr. Williams, by the old Conveyance, so that
is not suspected. He has intimated, that tho' I have not come so readily as he
hop'd into his Scheme, yet his Diligence shall not be slacken'd, and he will
leave it to Providence and myself, to dispose of him as he shall be found to
deserve. He has signify'd to me, that he shall soon send a special Messenger
with the Pacquet to you, and I have added to it what has occur'd since.
 

                                    Sunday.

I am just now quite astonish'd! - I hope all is right! - But I have a strange
Turn to acquaint you with. Mr. Williams and Mrs. Jewkes came to me both
together; he in Ecstacies, she with a strange fluttering sort of Air. Well, said
she, Mrs. Pamela, I give you Joy! I give you Joy! - Let nobody speak but me!
Then she sat down, as out of Breath, puffing and blowing. Why every thing turns
as I said it would, said she! Why there is to be a Match between you and Mr.
Williams! Well, I always thought it. Never was so good a Master! Go to, go to,
naughty mistrustful Mrs. Pamela, nay, Mrs. Williams, said the forward Creature,
I may as good as call you, you ought on your Knees to beg his Pardon a thousand
times for mistrusting him.
    She was going on; but I said, Don't torture me thus, I beseech you, Mrs.
Jewkes. Let me know all! - Ah! Mr. Williams, said I, take care, take care! -
Mistrustful again, said she! why, Mr. Williams, show her your Letter; and I will
show her mine: They were brought by the same Hand.
    I trembled at the Thoughts of what this might mean; and said, You have so
Surprise'd me, that I cannot stand, nor hear, nor read! Why did you come up in
such a manner to attack such weak Spirits? Said he, to Mrs. Jewkes, Shall we
leave our Letters with Mrs. Pamela, and let her recover from her Surprise? Ay,
said she, with all my Heart; here is nothing but flaming Honour and Good-will!
And so saying, they left me their Letters, and withdrew.
    My Heart was quite sick with the Surprise; so that I could not presently
read them, notwithstanding my Impatience; but after a while, recovering, I found
the Contents thus strange and wonderful.
 
        »Mr. Williams,
            The Death of Mr. Fownes has now given me the Opportunity I have long
        wanted to make you happy, and that in a double respect. For I shall soon
        put you in Possession of his Living, and, if you have the Art of making
        yourself well receive'd, of one of the loveliest Wives in England. She
        has not been used (as she has reason to think) according to her Merit;
        but when she finds herself under the Protection of a Man of Virtue and
        Probity, and a happy Competency to support Life in the manner to which
        she has been of late Years accustom'd, I am persuaded she will forgive
        those seeming Hardships which have pav'd the Way to so happy a Lot, as I
        hope it will be to you both. I have only to account for and excuse the
        odd Conduct I have been guilty of, which I shall do, when I see you: But
        as I shall soon set out for London, I believe it will not be yet this
        Month. Mean time, if you can prevail with Pamela, you need not suspend
        for that your mutual Happiness; only, let me have Notice of it first,
        and that she approves of it; which ought to be, in so material a Point,
        entirely at her Option, as I assure you, on the other hand, I would have
        it on yours, that nothing may be wanting to complete your Happiness. I
        am
                                                           Your humble Servant.«
 
Was ever the like heard! - Lie still, my throbbing Heart, divided, as thou art,
between thy Hopes and thy Fears! - But this is the Letter Mrs. Jewkes left with
me.
 
        »Mrs. Jewkes,
            You have been very careful and diligent in the Task, which, for
        Reasons I shall hereafter explain, I had impos'd upon you. Your Trouble
        is now almost at an End; for I have wrote my Intentions to Mr. Williams
        so particularly, that I need say the less here, because he will not
        scruple, I believe, to let you know the Contents of my Letter. I have
        only one Thing to mention, that if you find what I have hinted to him in
        the least measure disagreeable to either, that you assure them both that
        they are at entire Liberty to pursue their own Inclinations. I hope you
        continue your Civilities to the mistrustful, uneasy Pamela, who now will
        begin to think better of hers and
                                                              Your Friend, etc.«
 
I had hardly time to transcribe these Letters, tho' writing so much, I write
pretty fast, before they both came up again, in high Spirits; and Mr. Williams
said, I am glad at my Heart, Madam, that I was beforehand in my Declarations to
you: This generous Letter has made me the happiest Man on Earth; and, Mrs.
Jewkes, you may be sure, that if I can procure this Fair-one's Consent, I shall
think myself - I interrupted the good Man, and said, Ah! Mr. Williams, take
care, take care; don't let - There I stopped, and Mrs. Jewkes said, Still
mistrustful! - I never saw the like in my Life! - But I see, said she, I was not
wrong while my old Orders lasted, to be wary of you both. - I should have had a
hard Task to prevent you, I find; for, as the Saying is, Nought can restrain
Consent of Twain.
    I doubted not her taking hold of his joyful Indiscretion. - - I took her
Letter, and said, Here, Mrs. Jewkes, is yours; I thank you for it; but I have
been so long in a Maze, that I can say nothing of this for the present. Time
will bring all to Light. - Sir, said I, here is yours: May every thing turn to
your Happiness! I give you Joy of my Master's Goodness in the Living - It will
be dying, said he, not a Living, without you. - Forbear, Sir, said I: While I've
a Father and Mother, I am not my own Mistress, poor as they are: And I'll see
myself quite at Liberty before I shall think myself fit to make a Choice.
    Mrs. Jewkes held up her Eyes and Hands, and said, Such Art, such Caution,
such Cunning for thy Years! - Well! - Why, said I, (that he might be more on his
Guard, tho' I hope there cannot be Deceit in this; 'it would be strange Villainy,
and that is a hard Word, if there should!) I have been so used to be made a Fool
of by Fortune, that I hardly can tell how to govern myself; and am almost an
Infidel as to Mankind. - But I hope, I may be wrong; henceforth, Mrs. Jewkes,
you shall regulate my Opinions as you please, and I will consult you in every
thing - (that I think proper, said I to myself) - for to be sure, tho' I may
forgive her, I can never love her.
    She left Mr. Williams and me, a few Minutes, together; and I said, Consider,
Sir, consider what you have done. 'Tis impossible, said he, there can be Deceit.
I hope so, said I; but what Necessity was there for you to talk of your former
Declaration? Let this be as it will, that could do no Good, especially before
this Woman. Forgive me, Sir; they talk of Womens Promptness of Speech; but
indeed I see an honest Heart is not always to be trusted with itself in bad
Company.
    He was going to reply; but, tho' her Task is said to be ALMOST (I took
Notice of that Word) at an End, she came up to us again; and said, Well, I had a
good mind to show you the way to Church tomorrow. I was glad of this, because,
tho', in my present doubtful Situation, I should not have chosen it, yet I would
have encourage'd her Proposal, to be able to judge by her being in Earnest or
otherwise, whether one might depend upon the rest. But Mr. Williams again
indiscreetly help'd her to an Excuse; by saying, that it was now best to defer
it one Sunday, and till Matters were riper for my Appearance; and she readily
took hold of it.
    After all, I hope the best; but if this should turn out to be a Plot, I fear
nothing but a Miracle can save me. But, sure the Heart of Man is not capable of
such black Deceit. Besides, Mr. Williams has it under his own Hand, and he dare
not but be in Earnest; and then again, tho' to be sure he has been very wrong to
me, yet his Education, and Parents Example, have neither of them taught him such
very black Contrivances. So I will hope for the best! -
 
Mr. Williams, Mrs. Jewkes and I, have been all three walking together in the
Garden; and she pull'd out her Key, and we walk'd a little in the Pasture to
look at the Bull, an ugly, grim, surly Creature, that hurt the poor Cook-maid,
who is got pretty well again. Mr. Williams pointed at the Sun-flower, but I was
force'd to be very reserved to him; for the poor Gentlemen has no Guard, no
Caution at all.
    We have just supp'd together, all three; and I cannot yet think but all must
be right. - Only I am resolve'd not to marry, if I can help it; and I will give
no Encouragement, I am resolve'd, at least, till I am with you.
    Mr. Williams said, before Mrs. Jewkes, he would send a Messenger with a
Letter to my Father and Mother! - I think the Man has no Discretion in the
World: But I desire you will give no Answer till I have the Pleasure and
Happiness, which now I hope for soon, of seeing you. He will, in sending my
Pacquet, send a most tedious Parcel of Stuff, of my Oppressions, my Distresses,
my Fears; and so I will send this with it (for Mrs. Jewkes gives me Leave to
send a Letter to my Father, which looks well); and I am glad I can conclude,
after all my Sufferings, with my Hopes, to be soon with you, which I know will
give you Comfort; and so I rest, begging the Continuance of your Prayers, and
Blessings,
                                                     Your ever dutiful Daughter.
 
My dear Father and Mother,
    I Have so much Time upon my Hands, that I must write on to employ myself.
The Sunday Evening, where I left off, Mrs. Jewkes asked me, If I chose to lie by
myself? I said, Yes, with all my Heart, if she pleased. Well, said she, after
tonight you shall. I ask'd her for more Paper, and she gave me a little Bottle
of Ink, eight Sheets of Paper, which she said was all her Store, (for now she
would get me to write for her to our Master, if she had Occasion) and six Pens,
with a Piece of Sealing-wax. This looks mighty well!
    She press'd me, when she came to Bed, very much, to give Encouragement to
Mr. Williams, and said many Things in his Behalf; and blam'd my Shyness to him,
etc. I told her, I was resolve'd to give no Encouragement till I had talk'd to my
Father and Mother. She said, she fancy'd I thought of somebody else, or I could
never be so insensible. I assure'd her, as I could do very safely, that there was
not a Man on Earth I wish'd to have; and, as to Mr. Williams, he might do better
by far, and I had proposed so much Happiness in living with my poor Father and
Mother, that I could not think of any Scheme of Life, with Pleasure, till I had
try'd that. I ask'd her for my Money; and she said it was above in her strong
Box, but that I shall have it to-morrow. All these Things look well, as I said.
    Mr. Williams would go home this Night, tho' late, because he would dispatch
a Messenger to you with a Letter he had propos'd from himself, and my Pacquet.
But pray don't encourage him, as I said; for he is much too heady and
precipitate as to this Matter, in my way of thinking; tho', to be sure, he is a
very good Man, and I am much oblige'd to him.
 

                                Monday Morning.

Alas-a-day! we have bad News from poor Mr. Williams. He has had a sad Mischance;
fallen among Rogues in his Way home last Night; but by good Chance has save'd my
Papers. This is the Account he gives of it to Mrs. Jewkes.
 
        »Good Mrs. Jewkes,
            I Have had a sore Misfortune in going from you; when I had got as
        near the Town as the Dam, and was going to cross the Wooden- bridge, two
        Fellows got hold of me, and swore bitterly they would kill me, if I did
        not give them what I had. They romag'd my Pockets, and took from me my
        Snuff-Box, my Seal-ring, and Half a Guinea, and some Silver, and
        Half-pence; also my Handkerchief, and two or three Letters I had in my
        Pocket. By good Fortune the Letter Mrs. Pamela gave me was in my Bosom,
        and so that escape'd; but they bruis'd my Head, and Face, and cursing me
        for having no more Money, tipt me into the Dam, Crying, Lie there,
        Parson, till to- morrow! My Shins and Knees were bruis'd much in the
        Fall against one of the Stumps; and I had like to have been suffocated
        in Water and Mud. To be sure, I shan't be able to stir out this Day or
        two. For I am a fearful Spectacle! My Hat and Wig I was force'd to leave
        behind me, and go home a Mile and a Half without; but they were found
        next Morning, and brought me, with my Snuff-box, which the Rogues must
        have dropped. My Cassock is sadly torn, as is my Band. To be sure, I was
        much frighted; for a Robbery in these Parts has not been known many
        Years. Diligent Search is making after the Rogues. My humblest Respects
        to good Mrs. Pamela. If she pities my Misfortunes, I shall be the sooner
        well, and fit to wait on her and you. This did not hinder me in writing
        a Letter, tho' with great Pain, as I do this;« [To be sure this good Man
        can keep no Secret!] »and sending it away by a Man and Horse, this
        Morning. I am, good Mrs. Jewkes,
                                               Your most obliged humble Servant.
        God be prais'd it is no worse! and I find I have got no Cold, tho'
        miserably wet from Top to Toe. My Fright, I believe, prevented me
        catching Cold; for I was not rightly myself for some Hours, and know not
        how I got home. I will write a Letter of Thanks this Night, if I am
        able, to my kind Patron for his inestimable Goodness to me. I wish I was
        enabled to say all I hope, with regard to the better Part of his Bounty
        to me, incomparable Mrs. Pamela!«
 
The wicked Brute fell a laughing when she had read this Letter, till her fat
Sides shook; said she, I can but think how the poor Parson look'd, after parting
with his pretty Mistress in such high Spirits, when he found himself at the
Bottom of the Dam! And what a Figure he must cut in his tatter'd Band and
Cassock, and without Hat and Wig, when he got home. I warrant, said she, he was
in a sweet Pickle! - I said, I thought it was very barbarous to laugh at such a
Misfortune: But she said, As he was safe, she laughed; otherwise she should have
been sorry: And she was glad to see me so concern'd for him - It look'd
promising, she said.
    I heeded not her Reflection; but as I have been used to Causes for
Mistrusts, I cannot help saying, that I don't like this thing: And their taking
his Letters most alarms me. - How happy it was, they miss'd my Pacquet! I know
not what to think of it! - But why should I let every Accident break my Peace?
But yet it will do so while I stay here.
 
Mrs. Jewkes is mightily at me, to go with her in the Chariot, to visit Mr.
Williams. She is so officious to bring on the Affair between us, that being a
cunning, artful Woman, I know not what to make of it: I have refused her
absolutely; urging, that except I intended to encourage his Suit, I ought not to
do it. And she is gone without me.
    I have strange Temptations to get away in her Absence, for all these fine
Appearances. 'Tis sad to have no body to advise with! - I know not what to do.
But, alas for me! I have no Money, if I should, to buy any body's Civilities, or
to pay for Necessaries or Lodging. But I'll go into the Garden, and resolve
afterwards. -
 
I have been in the Garden, and to the Back-door; and there I stood, my Heart up
at my Mouth. I could not see I was watch'd; so this looks well. But if any thing
should go bad afterwards, I should never forgive myself, for not taking this
Opportunity. Well, I will go down again, and see if all is clear, and how it
looks out at the Back-door in the Pasture.
 
To be sure, there is Witchcraft in this House; and I believe Lucifer is bribed,
as well as all about me, and is got into the Shape of that nasty grim Bull, to
watch me! - For I have been down again; and venture'd to open the Door, and went
out about a Bow-shoot into the Pasture; but there stood that horrid Bull,
staring me full in the Face, with fiery Saucer Eyes, as I thought. So, I got in
again; for fear he should come at me. Nobody saw me, however. - Do you think
there are such things as Witches and Spirits? if there be, I believe in my
Heart, Mrs. Jewkes has got this Bull of her Side. But yet, what could I do
without Money or a Friend? - O this wicked Woman! to trick me so! Every thing,
Man, Woman and Beast, is in a Plot against your poor Pamela, I think! - Then I
know not one Step of the Way, nor how far to any House or Cottage; and whether I
could gain Protection, if I got to a House: And now the Robbers are abroad too,
I may run into as great Danger, as I want to escape from; nay, greater much, if
these promising Appearances hold: And sure my Master cannot be so black as that
they should not! - What can I do? - I have a good mind to try for it once more;
but then I may be pursued and taken; and it will be worse for me; and this
wicked Woman will beat me, and take my Shoes away, and lock me up.
    But after all, if my Master should mean well, he can't be angry at my Fears,
if I should escape; and nobody can blame me; and I can more easily be induced
with you, when all my Apprehensions are over, to consider his Proposal of Mr.
Williams, than I could here; and he pretends he will leave me at my Choice: Why
then should I be afraid? I will go down again, I think! But yet my Heart
misgives me, because of the Difficulties before me, in escaping; and being so
poor and so friendless! -- O good God! the Preserver of the Innocent! direct me
what to do! - Well, I have just now a sort of strange Persuasion upon me, that I
ought to try to get away, and leave the Issue to Providence. So, once more! -
I'll see, at least, if this Bull be still there!
 
Alack-a-day! what a Fate is this! I have not the Courage to go, neither can I
think to stay. But I must resolve. The Gardener was in Sight last time! so made
me come up again. But I'll contrive to send him out of the way, if I can! - For
if I never should have such another Opportunity, I could not forgive myself.
Once more I'll venture. God direct my Footsteps, and make smooth my Path and my
Way to Safety!
    Well, here I am, come back again! frighted like a Fool, out of all my
Purposes! O how terrible every thing appears to me! I had got twice as far
again, as I was before, out of the Back-door; and I looked, and saw the Bull, as
I thought, between me and the Door; and another Bull coming towards me the other
way: Well, thought I, here is double Witchcraft, to be sure! Here is the Spirit
of my Master in one Bull; and Mrs. Jewkes's in the other; and now I am gone, to
be sure! O help! cry'd I, like a Fool, and run back to the Door, as swift as if
I flew. When I had got the Door in my Hand, I venture'd to look back, to see if
these supposed Bulls were coming; and I saw they were only two poor Cows, a
grazing in distant Places, that my Fears had made all this Rout about. But as
every thing is so frightful to me, I find I am not fit to think of my Escape:
For I shall be as much frighted at the first strange Man that I meet with. And I
am persuaded, that Fear brings one into more Dangers, than the Caution, that
goes along with it, delivers one from.
    I then locked the Door, and put the Key in my Pocket, and was in a sad
Quandary; but I was soon determined; for the Maid Nan came in Sight, and asked,
If any thing was the matter, that I was so often up and down Stairs? God forgive
me; but I had a sad Lye at my Tongue's End; said I, Tho' Mrs. Jewkes is
sometimes a little hard upon me, yet I know not where I am without her: I go up,
and I come down to walk about in the Garden; and not having her, know scarcely
what to do with myself. Ay, said the Idiot, she is main good Company, Madam; no
wonder you miss her.
 
So here I am again; and here likely to be; for I have no Courage to help myself
any-where else. O why are poor foolish Maidens try'd with such Dangers, when
they have such weak Minds to grapple with them! - I will, since it is so, hope
the best: But yet I cannot but observe how grievously every thing makes against
me: For here are the Robbers; tho' I fell not into their Hands myself, yet they
gave me as much Terror, and had as great an Effect upon my Fears, as if I had:
And here is the Bull; it has as effectually frighten'd me, as if I had been hurt
by it instead of the Cook-maid; and so they join'd together, as I may say, to
make a very Dastard of me. But my Folly was the worst of all; for that depriv'd
me of my Money; for had I had that, I believe I should have venture'd the other
Two.
 

                               Monday Afternoon.

So, Mrs. Jewkes is returned from her Visit: Well, said she, I would have you set
your Heart at Rest; for Mr. Williams will do very well again. He is not half so
badly off as he fancy'd. O these Scholars, said she, they have not the Hearts of
Mice! He has only a few Scratches on his Face; which, said she, I suppose he got
by grabbling among the Gravel, at the Bottom of the Dam, to try to find a Hole
in the Ground, to hide himself from the Robbers. His Shin and his Knee are
hardly to be seen to ail any thing. He says in his Letter, he was a frightful
Spectacle: He might be so indeed, when he first came in a-doors; but he looks
well enough now; and, only for a few Groans now-and-then, when he thinks of his
Danger, I see nothing is the matter with him. So, Mrs. Pamela, said she, I would
have you be very easy about it. I am glad of it, said I, for all your Jokes,
Mrs. Jewkes.
    Well, said she, he talks of nothing but you; and when I told him, I would
fain have persuaded you to come with me, the Man was out of his Wits with his
Gratitude to me; and so has laid open all his Heart to me, and told me all that
has passed, and was contriving between you two. This alarm'd me prodigiously;
and the rather, as I saw, by two or three Instances, that his honest Heart could
keep nothing, believing every one as undesigning as himself. I said, but yet
with a heavy Heart, Ah, Mrs. Jewkes, Mrs. Jewkes, this might have done with me,
had he had any thing that he could have told you of! But you know well enough,
that had we been disposed, we had no Opportunity for it, from your watchful Care
and Circumspection. No, said she, that's very true, Mrs. Pamela; not so much as
for that Declaration that he own'd before me, he had found Opportunity, for all
my Watchfulness, to make you. Come, come, said she, no more of these Shams with
me! You have an excellent Head-piece for your Years; but may-be I am as cunning
as you. - However, said she, all is well now; because my Watchments are now
over, by my Master's Direction. How have you employ'd yourself in my Absence?
    I was so troubled at what might have passed between Mr. Williams and her,
that I could not hide it. And she said, Well, Mrs. Pamela, since all Matters are
likely to be so soon and so happily ended, let me advise you to be a little less
concern'd at his Discoveries; and make me your Confident, as he has done, and I
shall think you have some Favour for me and Reliance upon me; and perhaps you
might not repent it.
    She was so earnest, that I mistrusted she did this to pump me; and I knew
how, now, to account for her Kindness to Mr. Williams, in her Visit to him;
which was only to get out of him what she could. Why, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, is
all this fishing about for something, where there is nothing, if there be an End
of your Watchments, as you call them? Nothing, said she, but Womanish Curiosity,
I'll assure you; for one is naturally led to find out Matters, where there is
such Privacy intended. Well, said I, pray let me know what he has said; and then
I'll give you an Answer to your Curiosity. I don't care, said she, whether you
do or not; for I have as much as I wanted from him; and I despair of getting out
of you any thing you han't a mind I should know, my little cunning Dear. - Well,
said I, let him have said what he would, I care not; for I am sure he can say no
Harm of me; and so let us change the Talk.
    I was the easier indeed; because, for all her Pumps, she gave no Hints of
the Key and the Door, etc. which had he communicated to her, she would not have
forborn giving me a Touch of. - And so we gave up one another, as despairing to
gain our Ends of each other. But I am sure he must have said more than he
should. - And I am the more apprehensive all is not right, because she has now
been actually, these two Hours, shut up a-writing; tho' she pretended she had
given me up all her Stores of Paper, etc. and that I should write for her. I
begin to wish I had venture'd every thing, and gone off, when I might. O when
will this State of Doubt and Uneasiness end!
 
She has just been with me, and says she shall send a Messenger to Bedfordshire;
and he shall carry a Letter of Thanks for me, if I will write it, for my
Master's Favour to me. Indeed, said I, I have no Thanks to give, till I am with
my Father and Mother: And besides, I sent a Letter, as you know; but have had no
Answer to it. She said, she thought that his Letter was sufficient to Mr.
Williams; and the least I could do, was to thank him, if but in two Lines. No
need of it, said I; for I don't intend to have Mr. Williams: What then is that
Letter to me? - Well, said she, I see thou art quite unfathomable!
    I don't like all this. O my foolish Fears of Bulls and Robbers! - For now
all my Uneasiness begins to double upon me. O what has this uncautious Man said?
That, no doubt, is the Subject of her long Letter.
    I will close this Day's writing, with just saying, that she is mighty silent
and reserved, to what she was, and says nothing but No, or Yes, to what I ask.
Something must be hatching, I doubt! - I the rather think so, because I find she
does not keep her word with me, about lying by myself, and my Money; to both
which Points, she return'd suspicious Answers, saying, as to the one, Why you
are mighty earnest for your Money: I shan't run away with it: And to the other,
Good lack! you need not be so willing, as I know of, to part with me for a
Bedfellow, till you are sure of one you like better. This cut me to the Heart! -
And at the same time stopped my Mouth.
 

                              Tuesday, Wednesday.

Mr. Williams has been here; but we have had no Opportunity to talk together: He
seem'd confounded at Mrs. Jewkes's Change of Temper, and Reservedness, after her
kind Visit, and their Freedom with one another, and much more at what I am going
to tell you. He asked, if I would take a Turn in the Garden with Mrs. Jewkes and
him. No, said she, I can't go. Said he, May not Mrs. Pamela take a Walk? - No,
said she; I desire she won't. Why, said he, Mrs. Jewkes? I am afraid I have
some-how disobliged you. Not at all, said she; but I suppose you will soon be at
Liberty to walk together as much as you please: And I have sent a Messenger for
my last Instructions, about this and more weighty Matters; and when they come, I
shall leave you to do as you both will; but till then, it is no matter how
little you are together. This alarm'd us both; and he seem'd quite struck of a
Heap, and put on, as I thought, a self-accusing Countenance. So I went behind
her Back, and held my two Hands together, flat, with a Bit of Paper, I had,
between them, and looked at him; and he seemed to take me, as I intended,
intimating the renewing of the Correspondence by the Tiles.
    So I left them both together, and retired to my Closet, to write a Letter
for the Tiles; but having no Time for a Copy, I will give you the Substance
only.
    I expostulated with him on his too great Openness and Easiness to fall into
Mrs. Jewkes's Snares; told him my Apprehensions of foul Play; and gave briefly
the Reasons which moved me: Begg'd to know what he had said; and intimated, that
I thought there was the highest Reason to resume our Project of the Escape by
the Back-door. I put this in the usual Place, in the Evening, and now wait with
Impatience for an Answer.
 

                                   Thursday.

I have the following Answer:
 
        »Dearest Madam,
            I am utterly confounded, and must plead guilty to all your just
        Reproaches. O that I was Master of half your Caution and Discretion! I
        hope, after all, this is only a Touch of this ill Woman's Temper, to
        show her Power and Importance: For I think Mr. B. neither can nor dare
        deceive me in so black a manner. I would expose him all the World over,
        if he did. But it is not, cannot be in him. I have received a Letter
        from John Arnold; in which he tells me, that the 'Squire is preparing
        for his London Journey; and believes, afterwards, he will come into
        these Parts. But he says, Lady Davers is at their House, and is to
        accompany her Brother to London, or meet him there, he knows not which.
        He professes great Zeal and Affection to your Service. But I find he
        refers to a Letter he sent me before, but which is not come to my Hand.
        I think there can be no Treachery; for it is a particular Friend at
        Gainsborough, that I have order'd him to direct to; and this is come
        safe to my Hands by this means; for well I know, I durst trust nothing
        to Brett, at the Post-house here. This gives me a little Pain; but I
        hope all will end well, and we shall soon hear, if it be necessary to
        pursue our former Intentions. If it be, I will lose no Time to provide a
        Horse for you, and another for myself; for I can never do either God or
        myself better Service, tho' I were to forego all my Expectations for it
        here. I am
                                              Your most faithful humble Servant.
        I was too free indeed with Mrs. Jewkes, led to it by her Dissimulation,
        and by her Concern to make me happy with you. I hinted, that I would not
        have scrupled to have procured your Deliverance by any means; and that I
        had proposed to you, as the only honourable one, Marriage with me. But I
        assured her, tho' she would hardly believe me, that you discouraged my
        Application. Which is too true! But not a Word of the Back-door, Key,
        etc.«
 
Mrs. Jewkes continues still sullen and ill-natur'd; and I am afraid, almost, to
speak to her. She watches me as close as ever, and pretends to wonder why I shun
her Company as I do.
    I have just put under the Tiles these Lines; inspired by my Fears, which are
indeed very strong; and, I doubt, not without Reason.
 
        »Sir,
            Every thing gives me additional Disturbance. The miss'd Letter of
        John Arnold's makes me suspect a Plot. Yet am I loth to think myself of
        so much Importance, as to suppose every one in a Plot against me. Are
        you sure, however, the London Journey is not to be a Lincolnshire one?
        May not John, who has been once a Traitor, be so again? - Why need I be
        thus in doubt? - If I could have this Horse, I would turn the Reins on
        his Neck, and trust to Providence to guide him for my Safeguard! For I
        would not indanger you, now just upon the Edge of your Preferment. Yet,
        Sir, I fear your fatal Openness will make you suspected as accessory,
        let us be ever so cautious.
            Were my Life in question, instead of my Honesty, I would not wish to
        involve you, or any body, in the least Difficulty for so worthless a
        poor Creature. But, O Sir! my Soul is of equal Importance with the Soul
        of a Princess; though my Quality is inferior to that of the meanest
        Slave.
            Save then, my Innocence, good God, and preserve my Mind spotless;
        and happy shall I be to lay down my worthless Life, and see an End to
        all my Troubles and Anxieties!
            Forgive my Impatience: But my presaging Mind bodes horrid Mischiefs!
        - Every thing looks dark around me; and this Woman's impenetrable
        Sullenness and Silence, without any apparent Reason, from a Conduct so
        very contrary, bids me fear the worst. - Blame me, Sir, if you think me
        wrong; and let me have your Advice what to do: which will oblige
                                                   Your most afflicted Servant.«
 

                                    Friday.

I Have this half-angry Answer; but, what is more to me than all the Letters in
the World could be, yours, my dear Father, enclosed.
 
        »Madam,
            I Think you are too apprehensive by much. I am sorry for your
        Uneasiness. You may depend upon me, and all I can do. But I make no
        doubt of the London Journey, nor of John's Contrition and Fidelity. I
        have just received, from my Gainsborough Friend, this Letter, as I
        suppose, from your good Father, in a Cover, as directed for me, as I had
        desired. I hope it contains nothing to add to your Uneasiness. Pray,
        dearest Madam, lay aside your Fears, and wait a few Days for the Issue
        of Mrs. Jewkes's Letter, and mine of Thanks to the 'Squire. Things, I
        hope, must be better than you expect. God Almighty will not desert such
        Piety and Innocence; and be this your Comfort and Reliance. Which is the
        best Advice that can at present be given, by
                                             Your most faithful humble Servant.«
        N. B. The Father's Letter was as follows:
 
        »My dearest Daughter,
            God has at length heard our Prayers, and we are overwhelmed with his
        Goodness. O what Sufferings, what Trials hast thou gone thro'! and,
        blessed be God, who enabled thee, what Temptations hast thou withstood!
        We have not yet had Leisure to read thro' your long Accounts of all your
        Hardships. I say long, because I wonder how you could find Time and
        Opportunity for them; but otherwise, they are the Delight of our spare
        Hours; and we shall read them over and over, as long as we live, with
        Thankfulness to God, who has given us so virtuous and so discreet a
        Daughter. How happy is our Lot, in the midst of our Poverty! O let none
        ever think Children a Burden to them; when the poorest Circumstances can
        produce so much Riches in a Pamela! Persist, my dear Daughter, in the
        same excellent Course; and we shall not envy the highest Estate, but
        defy them to produce such a Daughter as ours.
            I said, we had not read thro' all yours in Course. We were too
        impatient, and so turn'd to the End; where we find your Virtue within
        View of its Reward, and your Master's Heart turn'd to see the Folly of
        his Ways, and the Injury he had intended to our dear Child. For, to be
        sure, my Dear, he would have ruin'd you, if he could. But seeing your
        Virtue, God has touched his Heart; and he has, no doubt, been edified by
        your good Example.
            We don't see that you can do any way so well, as to come into the
        present Proposal, and make Mr. Williams, the worthy Mr. Williams, God
        bless him! - happy. And tho' we are poor, and can add no Merit, no
        Reputation, no Fortune to our dear Child, but rather must be a Disgrace
        to her, as the World will think; yet I hope I do not sin in my Pride, to
        say, that there is no good Man, of a common Degree (especially as your
        late Lady's Kindness gave you such good Opportunities, which, by God's
        Grace, you have so well improv'd) but may think himself happy in you.
        But, as you say, you had rather not marry at present, far be it from us
        to offer Violence to your Inclinations. So much Prudence as you have
        shown in all your Conduct, would make it very wrong in us to mistrust it
        in this, or to offer to direct you in your Choice. But, alas! my Child,
        what can we do for you? - To partake our hard Lot, and involve yourself
        into as hard a Life, would not help us; but add to our Afflictions. But
        it is time enough to talk of these things, when we have the Pleasure you
        now put us in Hope of, of seeing you with us; which God grant. Amen,
        Amen, say
                                              Your most indulgent Parents, Amen!
 
        Our humbest Service and Thanks to the worthy Mr. Williams. Again, we
        say, God bless him for ever!
            O what a deal have we to say to you! God give us a happy Meeting! We
        understand the 'Squire is setting out for London. He is a fine
        Gentleman, and has Wit at Will. I wish he was as good. But I hope he
        will now reform.«
            O what inexpressible Comfort, my dear Father, has your Letter given
        me. You ask, What can you do for me! - What is it you cannot do for your
        Child! - You can give her the Advice she has so much wanted, and still
        wants, and will always want; you can confirm her in the Paths of Virtue,
        into which you first initiated her; and you can pray for her, with
        Hearts so sincere and pure, that are not to be met with in Palaces! -
        Oh! how I long to throw myself at your Feet, and receive, from your own
        Lips, the Blessings of such good Parents! - But, alas! how are my
        Prospects again over-clouded to what they were when I closed my last
        Parcel! - More Trials, more Dangers, I fear, must your poor Pamela be
        engaged in: But thro' God's Goodness, and your Prayers, I hope, at last,
        to get well out of all my Difficulties; and the rather, as they are not
        the Effect of my own Vanity or Presumption!
            But I will proceed with my hopeless Story. I saw Mr. Williams was a
        little nettled at my Impatience; and so I wrote to assure him I would be
        as easy as I could, and directed by him; especially as my Father, whose
        Respects I mentioned, had assured me, my Master was setting out for
        London; which he must have some-how from his own Family, or he would not
        have written me word of it.
 

                               Saturday, Sunday.

Mr. Williams has been here both these Days, as usual; but is very indifferently
received still by Mrs. Jewkes; and, to avoid Suspicion, I left them together,
and went up to my Closet, most of the Time he was here. He and she, I found by
her, had a Quarrel; and she seems quite out of Humour with him; but I thought it
best not to say any thing. And he said, he would very little trouble the House,
till he had an Answer to his Letter from the 'Squire. And she return'd, The
less, the better. Poor Man! he has got but little by his Openness, and making
Mrs. Jewkes his Confident, as she bragged, and would have had me to do likewise.
I am more and more satisfied there is Mischief brewing, and shall begin to hide
my Papers, and be circumspect. She seems mighty impatient for an Answer to her
Letter to my Master.
 

         Monday, Tuesday, the 25th and 26th Days of my heavy Restraint.

Still, more and more strange things to write. A Messenger is return'd, and now
all is out! O wretched, wretched Pamela! What, at last, will become of me! -
Such strange Turns and Trials sure never poor Creature of my Years, experienced.
He brought two Letters, one to Mrs. Jewkes, and one to me: But as the greatest
Wits may be sometimes mistaken, they being folded and sealed alike, that for me,
was directed to Mrs. Jewkes; and that for her, was directed to me. But both are
stark naught, abominably bad! She brought me up that directed for me, and said,
Here's a Letter for you: Long look'd-for is come at last. I will ask the
Messenger a few Questions, and then I will read mine. So she went down, and I
broke it open in my Closet, and found it directed, To Mrs. PAMELA ANDREWS. But
when I open'd it, it began, Mrs. Jewkes. I was quite confounded; but, thinks I,
this may be a lucky Mistake; I may discover something. And so I read on these
horrid Contents:
 
        »Mrs. Jewkes,
            What you write me, has given me no small Disturbance. This wretched
        Fool's Plaything, no doubt, is ready to leap at any thing that offers,
        rather than express the least Sense of Gratitude for all the Benefits
        she has received from my Family, and which I was determined more and
        more to heap upon her. I reserve her for my future Resentment; and I
        charge you double your Diligence in watching her, to prevent her Escape.
        I send this by an honest Swiss, who attended me in my Travels; a Man I
        can trust; and so let him be your Assistant: For the artful Creature is
        enough to corrupt a Nation by her seeming Innocence and Simplicity; and
        she may have got a Party, perhaps, among my Servants with you, as she
        has here. Even John Arnold, whom I confided in, and favour'd more than
        any, has proved an execrable Villain; and shall meet his Reward for it.
            As to that College Novice Williams, I need not bid you take care he
        sees not this painted Bauble; for I have order'd Mr. Shorter, my
        Attorney, to throw him instantly into Gaol, on an Action of Debt, for
        Money he has had of me, which I had intended never to carry to account
        against him; for I know all his rascally Practices; besides what you
        write me of his perfidious Intrigue with that Girl, and his acknowledged
        Contrivances for her Escape; when he knew not, for certain, that I
        design'd her any Mischief; and when, if he had been guided by a Sense of
        Piety, or Compassion for injured Innocence, as he pretends, he would
        have expostulated with me, as his Function, and my Friendship for him,
        might have allow'd him. But to enter into a vile Intrigue! charm'd, like
        a godly Sensualist, with the amiable Gewgaw! to favour her Escape in so
        base a manner, (to say nothing of his disgraceful Practices against me,
        in Sir Simon Darnford's Family; of which Sir Simon himself has inform'd
        me) is a Conduct that, instead of preferring the ingrateful Wretch, as I
        had intended, shall pull down upon him utter Ruin.
            Monsieur Colbrand, my trusty Swiss, will obey you without Reserve,
        if my other Servants refuse.
            As for her denying that she encouraged his Declaration, I believe it
        not. 'Tis certain the speaking Picture, with all that pretended
        Innocence and Softness of Heart, would have run away with him. Yes, she
        would have run away with a Fellow that she had been acquainted with (and
        that not intimately, if you was as careful as you ought to be) but few
        Days; at a time, when she had the strongest Assurances of my Honour to
        her.
            Well, I think I now hate her perfectly; and tho' I will do nothing
        to her myself, yet I can bear, for the sake of my Revenge, and my
        injur'd Honour, and slighted Love, to see any thing, even what she most
        fears, be done to her; and then she may be turned loose to her evil
        Destiny, and echo to the Woods and Groves her piteous Lamentations for
        the Loss of her fantastical Innocence, which the romantick Idiot makes
        such a work about. I shall go to London, with my Sister Davers; and the
        Moment I can disengage myself, which perhaps may be in three Weeks from
        this time, I will be with you, and decide her Fate, and put an End to
        your Trouble. Mean time, be doubly careful; for this Innocent, as I have
        warn'd you, is full of Contrivances. I am
                                                                   Your Friend.«
 
I had but just read this dreadful Letter thro', when Mrs. Jewkes came up, in a
great Fright, guessing at the Mistake, and that I had her Letter; and she found
me with it open in my Hand, just sinking away. What Business, said she, had you
to read my Letter? and snatch'd it from me. You see, said she, looking upon it,
it says, Mrs. Jewkes, at top: You ought, in Manners, to have read no further. O
add not, said I, to my Afflictions! I shall be soon out of all your ways! This
is too much! too much! I never can support this! - and threw myself upon the
Couch, in my Closet, and wept most bitterly. She read it in the next Room, and
came in again afterwards; Why this, said she, is a sad Letter indeed! I am sorry
for it: But I fear'd you would carry your Niceties too far! - Leave me, dear
Mrs. Jewkes, said I, for a-while: I cannot speak nor talk! - Poor Heart! said
she; well, I'll come up again presently, and hope to find you better. But here,
take your own Letter; I wish you well; but this is a sad Mistake! And so she
laid down by me, that that was intended for me. But I had no Spirit to read it
presently. O Man! Man! hard-hearted, cruel Man! what Mischiefs art thou not
capable of, unrelenting Persecutor as thou art!
    I sat ruminating, when I had a little come to myself, upon the Terms of this
wicked Letter; and had no Inclination to look into my own. The bad Names, Fool's
Plaything, artful Creature, painted Bauble, Gewgaw, speaking Picture, are hard
things for your poor Pamela; and I began to think, whether I was not indeed a
very naughty Body, and had not done vile Things: But when I thought of his
having discover'd poor John, and of Sir Simon's base Officiousness, in telling
him of poor Mr. Williams, with what he had resolved against him, in Revenge for
his Goodness to me, I was quite mortified; and yet still more, about that
fearful Colbrand, and what he could see done to me; for then I was ready to gasp
for Breath, and my Spirits quite failed me. Then how dreadful are the Words,
that he will decide my Fate in three Weeks! Gracious Heaven, said I, strike me
dead before that time, with a Thunderbolt, or provide some way for my escaping
these threaten'd Mischiefs! God forgive me if I sinned.
    At last, I took up the Letter directed for Mrs. Jewkes, but designed for me;
and I find that little better than the other. These are the hard Terms it
contains:
 
        »Well have you done, perverse, forward, artful, yet foolish Pamela, to
        convince me, before it was too late, how ill I had done to place my
        Affections on so unworthy an Object. I had vow'd Honour and Love to your
        Unworthiness, believing you a Mirror of bashful Modesty, and unspotted
        Innocence; and that no perfidious Designs lurked in so fair a Bosom. But
        now I have found you out, you specious Hypocrite! and see, that tho' you
        could not repose the least Confidence in one you had known for Years,
        and who, under my good Mother's misplaced Favour for you, had grown up,
        in a manner, with you; when my Passion, in spite of my Pride, and the
        Difference of our Condition, made me stoop to a Meanness that now I
        despise myself for; yet you could enter into an Intrigue with a Man you
        never knew, till within these few Days past, and resolve to run away
        with a Stranger, whom your fair Face, and insinuating Arts, had
        bewitched to break thro' all the Ties of Honour and Gratitude to me,
        even at a Time when the Happiness of his future Life depended upon my
        Favour.
            Henceforth, for Pamela's sake, whenever I see a lovely Face, will I
        mistrust a deceitful Heart: And whenever I hear of the greatest
        Pretences to Innocence, will I suspect some deep-laid Mischief. You were
        determin'd to place no Confidence in me, tho' I have solemnly, over and
        over, engaged my Honour to you. What, tho' I had alarm'd your Fears, in
        sending you one way, when you hoped to go another; yet, had I not, to
        convince you of my Resolution to do justly by you, (altho' with infinite
        Reluctance, such then was my Love for you) engaged not to come near you
        without your own Consent? Was not this a voluntary Demonstration of the
        Generosity of my Intentions to you? Yet how have you requited me? The
        very first Fellow that your charming Face, and insinuating Address,
        could influence, you have practis'd upon, corrupted too, I may say, (and
        even ruin'd, as the ingrateful Wretch shall find) and thrown your
        forward Self upon him. As therefore you would place no Confidence in me,
        my Honour owes you nothing; and in a little time you shall find how much
        you have err'd in treating, as you have done, a Man, who was once
                                              Your affectionate and kind Friend.
        Mrs. Jewkes has Directions concerning you; and if your Lot is now harder
        than you might wish, you will bear it the easier, because your own rash
        Folly has brought it upon you.«
 
Alas! for me, what a Fate is mine, to be thus thought artful and forward, and
ingrateful! when all I intended, was to preserve my Innocence; and when all the
poor little Shifts, which his superior wicked Wit and Cunning have render'd
ineffectual, were forced upon me in my own necessary Defence!
 
Mrs. Jewkes came up to me again, and found me bathed in Tears. She seemed, as I
thought, to be moved to some Compassion; and finding myself now entirely in her
Power, and that it is not for me to provoke her, I said, It is now, I see, in
vain for me to contend against my evil Destiny, and the superior Arts of my
barbarous Master. I will resign myself to God's Will, and prepare to expect the
worst. But you see how this poor Mr. Williams is drawn in and undone; I am sorry
I am made the Cause of his Ruin: - Poor, poor Man! - to be taken in thus, and
for my sake too! - But, if you'll believe me, said I, I gave no Encouragement to
what he proposed, as to Marriage; nor would he have proposed it, I believe, but
as the only honourable way he thought was left to save me: And his principal
Motive to it all, was Virtue and Compassion to one in Distress. What other View
could he have? You know I am poor and friendless. All I beg of you, is to let
the poor Gentleman have Notice of my Master's Resentment; and let him flee the
Country, and not be thrown into Gaol: This will answer my Master's End as well;
for it will as effectually hinder him from assisting me, as if he was in a
Prison.
    Ask me, said she, to do any thing that is in my Power, consistent with my
Duty and Trust, and I will do it; for I am sorry for you both. But, to be sure,
I shall keep no Correspondence with him, nor let you. I offer'd to talk of a
Duty superior to that she talked of, which would oblige her to help distressed
Innocence, and not permit her to go the Lengths injoin'd by lawless Tyranny; but
she plainly bid me be silent on that Head; for it was in vain to attempt to
persuade her to betray her Trust. - All I have to advise you, said she, is to be
easy; lay aside all your Contrivances and Arts to get away; and make me your
Friend, by giving me no Reason to suspect you; for, said she, I glory in my
Fidelity to my Master: And you have both practised some strange sly Arts, to
make such a Progress as he has own'd there was between you, so seldom as, I
thought, you saw one another; that I must be more circumspect than I have been.
    This doubled my Concern; for I now apprehended I should be much closer
watch'd than before.
    Well, said I, since I have, by this strange Accident, discover'd my hard
Destiny, let me read over again that fearful Letter of yours, that I may get it
by heart, and feed my Distress upon it; for now I have nothing else to think of,
and must familiarize myself to Calamity. Then, said she, let me read yours
again. I gave her mine, and she lent me hers; and so I took a Copy of it, with
her Leave; because, as I said, I would, by it, prepare myself for the worst. And
when I had done, I pinn'd it on the Head of the Couch: This, said I, is the Use
I shall make of this wretched Copy of your Letter; and here you shall always
find it wet with my Tears.
    She said, She would go down to order Supper, and insisted upon my Company to
it: I would have excused myself; but she begun to put on a commanding Air, that
I durst not oppose. And when I went down, she took me by the Hand, and presented
me to the most hideous Monster I ever saw in my Life. Here, Monsieur Colbrand,
said she, here is your pretty Ward and mine; let us try to make her Time with us
easy. He bow'd, and put on his foreign Grimaces, and seem'd to bless himself!
and, in broken English, told me, I was happy in de Affections of de vinest
Gentleman in de Varld! - I was quite frighten'd, and ready to drop down; and I
will describe him to you, my dear Father and Mother, if now you will ever see
this; and you shall judge if I had not Reason, especially not knowing he was to
be there, and being appriz'd, as I was, of his hated Employment, to watch me
closer.
    He is a Giant of a Man, for Stature; taller by a good deal, than Harry
Mawlidge, in your Neighbourhood, and large-bon'd, and scraggly; and a Hand! - I
never saw such an one in my Life. He has great staring Eyes, like the Bull's
that frighten'd me so. Vast Jaw-bones sticking out; Eyebrows hanging over his
Eyes; two great Scars upon his Forehead, and one on his left Cheek; and two huge
Whiskers, and a monstrous wide Mouth; blubber Lips; long yellow Teeth, and a
hideous Grin. He wears his own frightful long Hair, ty'd up in a great black
Bag; a black Crape Neckcloth, about a long ugly Neck; and his Throat sticking
out like a Wen. As to the rest, he was dressed? well enough, and had a Sword on,
with a nasty red Knot to it; Leather Garters, buckled below his Knees; and a
Foot - near as long as my Arm, I verily think.
    He said, He fright de Lady, and offer'd to withdraw; but she bid him not;
and I told Mrs. Jewkes, That as she knew I had been crying, she should not have
called me to the Gentleman without letting me know he was there. I soon went up
to my Closet; for my Heart aked all the time I was at Table; not being able to
look upon him without Horror, and this Brute of a Woman, tho' she saw my
Distress, before this Addition to it, no doubt did it on purpose to strike me
more into Terror. And indeed it had its Effect; for when I went to-bed, I could
think of nothing but his hideous Person, and my Master's more hideous Actions;
and thought them too well pair'd; and when I dropped asleep, I dream'd they were
both coming to my Bed-side, with the worst Designs; and I jump'd out of Bed in
my Sleep, and frighted Mrs. Jewkes; till, waking with the Terror, I told her my
Dream: And the wicked Creature only laughed, and said, All I fear'd was but a
Dream, as well as that; and when it was over, and I was well awake, I should
laugh at it as such!
 

   And now I am come to the Close of Wednesday, the 27th Day of my Distress.

Poor Mr. Williams is actually arrested, and carried away to Stamford. So there
is an End of all my Hopes in him. Poor Gentleman! his Over-security and
Openness, have ruin'd us both! I was but too well convinced, that we ought not
to have lost a Moment's time; but he was half angry, and thought me too
impatient; and then his fatal Confessions, and the detestable Artifice of my
Master! - But one might well think, that he who had so cunningly, and so
wickedly, contrived all his Stratagems hitherto, that it was impossible to avoid
them, would stick at nothing to complete them. I fear I shall soon find it so!
    But one Stratagem I have just invented, tho' a very discouraging one to
think of; because I have neither Friends nor Money, nor know one Step of the
Way, if I was out of the House. But let Bulls, and Bears, and Lions, and Tygers,
and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful Men, stand in my Way, I cannot
be in more Danger than I am; and I depend nothing upon his three Weeks: For how
do I know, now he is in such a Passion, and has already begun his Vengeance on
poor Mr. Williams, that he will not change his Mind, and come down to
Lincolnshire before he goes to London?
    My Stratagem is this; I will endeavour to get Mrs. Jewkes to-bed without me,
as she often does, while I sit lock'd up in my Closet; and as she sleeps very
sound in her first Sleep, of which she never fails to give Notice by snoring, if
I can then but get out between the two Bars of the Window, (for you know, I am
very slender, and I find I can get my Head thro') then I can drop upon the Leads
underneath, which are little more than my Height, and which Leads are over a
little Summer-parlour, that juts out towards the Garden, and which, as I am
light, I can easily drop from; for they are not high from the Ground: Then I
shall get into the Garden; and then, as I have the Key of the Back-door, I will
get out. But I have another Piece of Cunning still; good Heaven, succeed to me
my dangerous, but innocent Devices! - I have read of a great Captain, who being
in Danger, leaped over-board, into the Sea; and his Enemies shooting at him with
Bows and Arrows, he got off his upper Garment, and swam away, while they stuck
that full of their Darts and Arrows; and he escaped, and triumphed over them
all. So what will I do, but strip off my upper Petticoat, and throw it into the
Pond, with my Neck-handkerchief; for, to be sure, when they miss me, they will
go to the Pond first, thinking I have drowned myself; and so, when they see some
of my clothes floating there, they will be all employ'd in dragging the Pond,
which is a very large one; and as I shall not, perhaps, be miss'd till the
Morning, this will give me Opportunity to get a great way off; and I am sure I
will run for it when I am out. And so, I trust, that God will direct my Steps to
some good Place of Safety, and make some worthy Body my Friend; for sure, if I
suffer ever so, I cannot be in more Danger, nor in worse Hands, than where I am;
and with such avow'd bad Designs.
 
O my dear Parents! don't be frighted when you come to read this! - But all will
be over before you can see it; and so God direct me for the best. My Writings,
for fear I should not escape, I will bury in the Garden; for, to be sure, I
shall be search'd, and used dreadfully, if I can't get off. And so I will close
here, for the present, to prepare for my Plot. Prosper thou, O gracious
Protector of oppressed Innocence! this last Effort of thy poor Handmaid! that I
may escape the crafty Devices and Snares that have already begun to entangle my
Virtue! and from which, but by this one Trial, I see no way of escaping! And Oh!
whatever becomes of me, bless my dear Parents, and protect poor Mr. Williams
from Ruin! for he was happy before he knew me!
 
Just now, just now! I heard Mrs. Jewkes, who is in her Cups, own, to the horrid
Colbrand, that the robbing of poor Mr. Williams, was a Contrivance of hers, and
executed by the Groom and a Helper, in order to seize my Letters upon him, which
they miss'd. They are now both laughing at the dismal Story, which they little
think I heard - O how my Heart akes! for what are not such Wretches capable of!
Can you blame me for endeavouring, thro' any Danger, to get out of such
Clutches?
 

                              Past Eleven o'Clock.

Mrs. Jewkes is come up, and gone to-bed; and bids me not stay long in my Closet,
but come to-bed. O for a dead Sleep for the treacherous Brute! I never saw her
so tipsy, and that gives me Hopes. I have try'd again, and find I can get my
Head thro' the Iron Bars. I am now all prepared, as soon as I hear her fast; and
now I'll seal up these and my other Papers, my last Work: And to thy Providence,
O my gracious God, commit the rest! - Once more, God bless you both! and send us
a happy Meeting; if not here, in his heavenly Kingdom. Amen.
 

 Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, the 28th, 29th, 30th, and 31st Days of my
                                   Distress.

And Distress indeed! For here I am still! And every thing has been worse and
worse! Oh! the poor unhappy Pamela! - Without any Resource left, and ruin'd in
all my Contrivances. But, Oh! my dear Parents, rejoice with me, even in this low
Plunge of my Distress; for your poor Pamela has escape'd from an Enemy worse than
any she ever met with; an Enemy she never thought of before; and was hardly able
to stand against. I mean, the Weakness and Presumption, both in one, of her own
Mind! which had well nigh, had not divine Grace interposed, sunk her into the
lowest last Abyss of Misery and Perdition! I will proceed, as I have
Opportunity, with my sad Relation: For my Pen and Ink (in my now doubly secure'd
Closet) is all that I have, besides my own Weakness of Body, to employ myself
with: And, till yesterday Evening, I have not been able to hold a Pen.
 
I took with me but one Shift, besides what I had on, and two Handkerchiefs, and
two Caps, which my Pocket held, (for it was not for me to incumber myself) and
all my Stock of Money, which was but five or six Shillings, to set out for I
knew not where; and got out of the Window, not without some Difficulty, sticking
a little at my Shoulders and Hips; but I was resolve'd to get out, if possible.
And it was further from the Leads than I thought, and I was afraid I had
sprain'd my Ancle; and when I had dropped from the Leads to the Ground, it was
still further off; but I did pretty well there; at least, I got no Hurt to
hinder me from pursuing my Intentions: So being now on the Ground, I hid my
Papers under a Rose-bush, and cover'd them over with Mould, and there they still
lie, as I hope. Then I hy'd away to the Pond: The Clock struck Twelve, just as I
got out; and it was a dark misty Night, and coldish; but I felt none then.
    When I came to the Pond-side, I flung in my Upper-coat, as I had design'd,
and my Neck-handkerchief, and a round-ear'd Cap, with a Knot; and then with
great Speed ran to the Door, and took the Key out of my Pocket, my poor Heart
beating all the Time against my Bosom, as if it would have force'd its way out:
And beat it well might! For I then, too late, found, that I was most miserably
disappointed; for the wicked Woman had taken off that Lock, and put another on;
so that my Key would not open it. I try'd and try'd, and feeling about, I found
a Padlock besides, on another Part of the Door. O then how my Heart sunk! - I
dropped down with Grief and Confusion, unable to stir or support myself for a
while. But my Fears awakening my Resolution, and knowing that my Attempt would
be as terrible for me, as any other Danger I could then encounter, I clamber'd
up upon the Ledges of the Door, and the Lock, which was a great wooden one,
reaching the Top of the Door with my Hands; and little thinking I could climb so
well, made shift to lay hold on the Top of the Wall with my Hands; but, alas for
me! nothing but ill Luck! - no Escape for poor Pamela! The Wall being old, the
Bricks I held by, gave way, just as I was taking a Spring to get up, and down
came I, and received such a Blow upon my Head, with one of the Bricks, that it
quite stunn'd me; and I broke my Shins and my Ancle besides, and beat off the
Heel of one of my Shoes.
    In this dreadful way, flat upon the Ground, lay poor I, for I believe five
or six Minutes; and when I would have got up, I could hardly stand; for I found
I had bruis'd my left Hip and Shoulder, and was full of Pain with it; and
besides my Head bled, and ak'd with the Blow I had with the Brick. - Yet this I
valued not! but crawl'd a good way, upon my Feet and Hands, in Search of a
Ladder, I just recollected to have seen against the Wall two Days before, on
which the Gardener was nailing a Nectarine Branch, that was blown off from the
Wall: But no Ladder could I find, and the Wall was very high. What now, thinks
I, must become of the poor miserable Pamela! - Then I began to wish myself most
heartily again in my Closet, and to repent of my Attempt, which I now censur'd
as rash, because it did not succeed.
 
God forgive me! but a sad Thought came just then into my Head! - I tremble to
think of it! Indeed my Apprehensions of the Usage I should meet with, had like
to have made me miserable for ever! O my dear, dear Parents, forgive your poor
Child; but being then quite desperate, I crept along till I could get up on my
Feet, tho' I could hardly stand; and away limp'd I! - What to do, but to throw
myself into the Pond, and so put a Period to all my Griefs in this World! - But,
Oh! to find them infinitely aggravated (had I not, by God's Grace, been
with-held) in a miserable Eternity! As I have escape'd this Temptation, (blessed
be God for it!) I will tell you my Conflicts on this dreadful Occasion, that
God's Mercies may be magnify'd in my Deliverance, that I am yet on this Side the
dreadful Gulph, from which there can be no Redemption.
    It was well for me, as I have since thought, that I was so maim'd, as made
me the longer before I got to the Water; for this gave me some Reflection, and
abated that Liveliness of my Passions, which possibly might otherwise have
hurry'd me, in my first Transport of Grief, (on my seeing no way to escape, and
the hard Usage I had Reason to expect from my dreadful Keepers) to throw myself
in without Consideration; but my Weakness of Body made me move so slowly, that
it gave Time for a little Reflection, a Ray of Grace, to dart in upon my
benighted Mind; and so, when I came to the Pond-side, I sat myself down on the
sloping Bank, and began to ponder my wretched Condition: And thus I reason'd
with myself.
    Pause here a little, Pamela, on what thou art about, before thou takest the
dreadful Leap; and consider whether there be no Way yet left, no Hope, if not to
escape from this wicked House, yet from the Mischiefs threatened thee in it.
    I then consider'd, and after I had cast about in my Mind, every thing that
could make me hope, and saw no Probability; a wicked Woman devoid of all
Compassion! a horrid Helper just arrive'd in this dreadful Colbrand! an angry and
resenting Master, who now hated me, and threaten'd the most afflicting Evils!
and, that I should, in all Probability, be depriv'd even of the Opportunity I
now had before me, to free myself from all their Persecutions - What hast thou
to do, distressed Creature, said I to myself, but throw thyself upon a merciful
God, (who knows how innocently I suffer) to avoid the merciless Wickedness of
those who are determin'd on my Ruin?
    And then thought I, (and Oh! that Thought was surely of the Devil's
Instigation; for it was very soothing and powerful with me) these wicked
Wretches, who now have no Remorse, no Pity on me, will then be mov'd to lament
their Misdoings; and when they see the dead Corpse of the unhappy Pamela dragg'd
out to these slopy Banks, and lying breathless at their Feet, they will find
that Remorse to wring their obdurate Hearts, which now has no Place there! --
And my Master, my angry Master, will then forget his Resentments, and say, O
this is the unhappy Pamela! that I have so causelesly persecuted and destroy'd!
Now do I see she preferr'd her Honesty to her Life, will he say, and is no
Hypocrite, nor Deceiver; but really was the innocent Creature she pretended to
be! Then, thinks I, will he, perhaps, shed a few Tears over the poor Corse of
his persecuted Servant; and, tho' he may give out, it was Love and
Disappointment, and that too, (in order to hide his own Guilt) for the
unfortunate Mr. Williams, perhaps, yet will he be inwardly grieve'd, and order me
a decent Funeral, and save me, or rather this Part of me, from the dreadful
Stake, and the Highway Interrment; and the young Men and Maidens all around my
dear Father's, will pity poor Pamela; but O! I hope I shall not be the Subject
of their Ballads and Elegies; but that my Memory, for the sake of my dear Father
and Mother, may quickly slide into Oblivion!
    I was once rising, so indulgent was I to this sad way of thinking, to throw
myself in: But again, my Bruises made me slow; and I thought, What art thou
about to do, wretched Pamela? how knows thou, tho' the Prospect be all dark to
thy short-sighted Eye, what God may do for thee, even when all human Means fail?
God Almighty would not lay me under these sore Afflictions, if he had not given
me Strength to grapple with them, if I will exert it as I ought: And who knows,
but that the very Presence I so much dread, of my angry and designing Master,
(for he has had me in his Power before, and yet I have escape'd) may be better
for me, than these persecuting Emissaries of his, who, for his Money, are true
to their wicked Trust, and are harden'd by that, and a long Habit of Wickedness,
against Compunction of Heart? God can touch his Heart in an instant; and if this
should not be done, I can then but put an End to my Life, by some other Means,
if I am so resolved.
    But how do I know, thought I, that even these Bruises and Maims that I have
gotten, while I pursue'd only the laudable Escape I had meditated, may not kindly
furnish me with the Opportunity I now am tempted to precipitate myself upon, and
of surrendering up my Life, spotless and unguilty, to that merciful Being who
gave it!
 
Then, thought I, who gave thee, presumptuous as thou art, a Power over thy Life?
Who authoriz'd thee to put an End to it, when the Weakness of thy Mind suggests
not to thee a Way to preserve it with Honour? How knows thou what Purposes God
may have to serve, by the Trials with which thou art now tempted? Art thou to
put a Bound to God's Will, and to say, Thus much will I bear, and no more? And,
wilt thou dare to say, that if the Trial be augmented, and continued, thou wilt
sooner die than bear it?
    This Act of Despondency, thought I, is a Sin, that, if I pursue it, admits
of no Repentance, and can therefore claim no Forgiveness. - And wilt thou, for
shortening thy transitory Griefs, heavy as they are, and weak as thou fanciest
thyself, plunge both Body and Soul into everlasting Misery? Hitherto, Pamela,
thought I, thou art the innocent, the suffering Pamela; and wilt thou be the
guilty Aggressor? and, because wicked Men persecute thee, wilt thou fly in the
Face of the Almighty, and bid Defiance to his Grace and Goodness, who can still
turn all these Sufferings to thy Benefits? And how do I know, but that God, who
sees all the lurking Vileness of my Heart, may not have permitted these
Sufferings on that very Score, and to make me rely solely on his Grace and
Assistance, who perhaps have too much prided myself in a vain Dependence on my
own foolish Contrivances? Then again, thought I, wilt thou suffer in one Moment
all the good Lessons of thy poor honest Parents, and the Benefit of their
Example, (who have persisted in doing their Duty with Resignation to the Divine
Will, amidst the extremest Degrees of Disappointment, Poverty and Distress, and
the Persecutions of an ingrateful World, and merciless Creditors) to be thrown
away upon thee; and bring down, as in all Probability this thy Rashness will,
their grey Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave, when they shall understand that their
beloved Daughter, slighting the Tenders of Divine Grace, despondent in the
Mercies of a gracious God, has blemish'd, in this last Act, a whole Life, which
they had hitherto approv'd and delighted in?
    What then, presumptuous Pamela, dost thou here, thought I? Quit with Speed
these guilty Banks, and flee from these dashing Waters, that even in their
sounding Murmurs, this still Night, reproach thy Rashness! Tempt not God's
Goodness on the mossy Banks, that have been Witnesses of thy guilty Intentions;
and while thou hast Power left thee, avoid the tempting Evil, lest thy grand
Enemy, now repuls'd by Divine Grace, and due Reflection, return to the Charge
with a Force that thy Weakness may not be able to resist! And lest one rash
Moment destroy all the Convictions, which now have aw'd thy rebellious Mind into
Duty and Resignation to the Divine Will!
    And so saying, I arose; but was so stiff with my Hurts, so cold with the
moist Dew of the Night, and the wet Banks on which I had sat, as also the Damps
arising from so large a Piece of Water, that with great Pain I got from the
Banks of this Pond, which now I think of with Terror; and bending my limping
Steps towards the House, refug'd myself in the Corner of an Out-house, where
Wood and Coals are laid up for Family Use, till I should be found by my cruel
Keepers, and consign'd to a wretched Confinement, and worse Usage than I had
hitherto experienc'd; and there behind a Pile of Fire-wood I crept, and lay
down, as you may imagine, with a Mind just broken, and a Heart sensible to
nothing but the extremest Woe and Dejection.
 
This, my dear Father and Mother, is the Issue of your poor Pamela's fruitless
Enterprize; and God knows, if I had got out at the Back-door, whether I had been
at all in better Case, moneyless, friendless, as I am, and in a strange Place! -
But blame not your poor Daughter too much: Nay, if ever you see this miserable
Scribble, all bathed and blotted with my Tears, let your Pity get the better of
your Blame! But I know it will. - And I must leave off for the present - For,
Oh! my Strength and my Will are at present very far unequal to one another. -
But yet, I will add, that tho' I should have prais'd God for my Deliverance, had
I been freed from my wicked Keepers, and my designing Master; yet I have more
abundant Reason to praise God, that I have been deliver'd from a worse Enemy,
myself!
 

                        I will continue my sad Relation.

It seems Mrs. Jewkes awake not till Day-break, and not finding me in Bed, she
call'd me; and no Answer being return'd, she relates, that she got out of Bed,
and run to my Closet; and not finding me, searched under the Bed, and in another
Closet, finding the Chamber-door as she had left it, quite fast, and the Key, as
usual, about her Wrist. For if I could have got out at the Chamber-door, there
were two or three Passages, and Doors to them all, double lock'd and barr'd, to
go thro', into the great Garden; so that if I would escape, there was no Way but
that of the Window; and that very Window, because of the Summer-parlour under
it; for the other Windows were a great way from the Ground.
    She says, she was excessively frighted, and instantly raise'd the Swiss, and
the two Maids, who lay not far off; and finding every Door fast, she said, I
must be carry'd away, as St. Peter was out of Prison, by some Angel. It is a
Wonder she had not a worse Thought!
    She says, she wept and wrung her Hands, and took on sadly, running about
like a mad Woman, little thinking I could have got out of the Closet Window,
between the Iron Bars; and indeed I don't know if I could do so again. But at
last finding that Casement open, they concluded it must be so; and so they ran
out into the Garden, and found, it seems, my Footsteps in the Mould of the Bed
which I dropped down upon from the Leads: And so speeded away, all of them, that
is to say, Mrs. Jewkes, Colbrand and Nan, towards the Back-door, to see if that
was fast, while the Cook was sent to the Out-offices to raise the Men, and make
them get Horses ready, to take each a several way to pursue me.
    But it seems, that finding that Door double-lock'd and padlock'd, and the
Heel of my Shoe, and the broken Bricks, they verily concluded I was got away by
some Means, over the Wall; and then, they say, Mrs. Jewkes seem'd like a
distracted Woman: Till at last, Nan had the Thought to go towards the Pond, and
there seeing my Coat, and Cap and Handkerchief in the Water, cast almost to the
Banks by the dashing of the Waves, she thought it was me, and screaming out, run
to Mrs. Jewkes, and said, O Madam, Madam! here's a piteous Thing! - Mrs. Pamela
lies drown'd in the Pond! - Thither they all ran! and finding my clothes,
doubted not I was at the Bottom; and they all, Swiss among the rest, beat their
Breasts, and made most dismal Lamentations; and Mrs. Jewkes sent Nan to the Men,
to bid them get the Drag-net ready, and leave the Horses, and come to try to
find the poor Innocent! as she, it seems, then call'd me, beating her Breast,
and lamenting my hard Hap; but most what would become of them, and what Account
they should give to my Master.
    While every one was thus differently employ'd, some weeping and wailing,
some running here and there, Nan came into the Wood-house; and there lay poor I;
so weak, so low, and dejected, and withal so stiff with my Bruises, that I could
not stir nor help myself to get upon my Feet. And I said, with a low Voice, (for
I could hardly speak) Mrs. Ann, Mrs. Ann! - The Creature was sadly frighted, but
was taking up a Billet to knock me on the Head, believing I was some Thief, as
she said; but I cry'd out, O Mrs. Ann, Mrs. Ann, help me, for Pity's sake, to
Mrs. Jewkes! for I cannot get up! - Bless me, said she, what! you, Madam! - Why
our Hearts are almost broke, and we were going to drag the Pond for you,
believing you had drown'd yourself. Now, said she, you'll make us all alive
again!
    And, without helping me, she run away to the Pond, and brought all the Crew
to the Wood-house. - The wicked Woman, as she entered, said, Where is she? -
Plague of her Spells, and her Witchcrafts! She shall dearly repent of this
Trick, if my Name be Jewkes; and coming to me, took hold of my Arm so roughly,
and gave me such a Pull, as made me squeal out, (my Shoulder being bruis'd on
that Side) and drew me on my Face. O cruel Creature! said I, if you knew what I
had suffer'd, it would move you to pity me!
    Even Colbrand seem'd to be concern'd, and said, Fie, Madam, fie! you see she
is almost dead! You must not be so rough with her. The Coachman Robin seem'd to
be sorry for me too, and said, with Sobs, What a Scene is here! Don't you see
she is all bloody in her Head, and cannot stir? - Curse of her Contrivances!
said the horrid Creature; she has frighted me out of my Wits, I'm sure. How the
D - l came you here? - O! said I, ask me now no Questions, but let the Maids
carry me up to my Prison; and there let me die decently, and in Peace! For
indeed I thought I could not live two Hours.
    The still more inhuman Tygress said, I suppose you want Mr. Williams to pray
by you, don't you? Well, I'll send for my Master this Minute; let him come and
watch you himself, for me; for there's no such thing as holding you, I'm sure!
    So the Maids took me up between them, and carry'd me to my Chamber; and when
the Wretch saw how bad I was, she began a little to relent - while every one
wonder'd (at what I had neither Strength nor Inclination to tell them) how all
this came to pass; which they imputed to Sorcery and Witchcraft.
    I was so weak, when I had got up Stairs, that I fainted away, with
Dejection, Pain and Fatigue; and they undress'd me, and got me to Bed, and Mrs.
Jewkes order'd Nan to bathe my Shoulder, and Arm, and Ancle, with some old Rum
warm'd; and they cut the Hair a little from the back Part of my Head, and wash'd
that; for it was clotted with Blood, from a pretty long, but not deep Gash; and
put a Family Plaister upon it; for if this Woman has any good Quality, it is, it
seems, in a Readiness and Skill to manage in Cases, where sudden Misfortunes
happen in a Family.
    After this, I fell into a pretty sound and refreshing Sleep, and lay till
Twelve o'Clock, tolerably easy, considering I was very feverish and aguishly
inclin'd; and she took a good deal of Care to fit me to undergo more Trials,
which I had hop'd would have been more happily ended; But Providence did not see
fit.
    She would make me rise about Twelve; but I was so weak, I could only sit up
till the Bed was made, and went into it again; and was, as they said, delirious
some Part of the Afternoon. But having a tolerable Night on Thursday, I was a
good deal better on Friday, and on Saturday got up, and eat a little Spoon-meat
and my Feverishness seem'd to be gone, and I was so pick'd up by Evening, that I
begg'd her Indulgence in my Closet, to be left to myself; which she consented
to, it being double-barr'd the Day before, and I assuring her that all my
Contrivances, as she call'd them, were at an End. But first she made me tell her
the whole Story of my Enterprize; which I did, very faithfully, knowing now that
nothing could stand me in any stead, or contribute to my Safety and Escape: And
she seem'd full of Wonder at my Resolution and Venturesomeness; but told me
frankly, that I should have found a hard Matter to get quite off; for, that she
was provided with a Warrant from my Master, (who is a Justice of Peace in this
County, as well as the other) to get me apprehended, if I had got away, on
Suspicion of wronging him, let me have been where I would.
    O how deep-laid are the Mischiefs designed to fall on my devoted Head! -
Surely, surely, I cannot be worthy all this Contrivance! - This too well shows
me the Truth of what was hinted to me formerly at the other House, that my
Master swore he would have me! O preserve me, Heaven! from being his, in his own
wicked Sense of the Adjuration!
    I must add, that now this Woman sees me pick up so fast, she uses me worse,
and has abridg'd me of Paper all but one Sheet, which I am to show her written
or unwritten on Demand, and has reduce'd me to one Pen; yet my hidden Stores
stand me in stead. But she is more and more snappish and cross; and tauntingly
calls me Mrs. Williams, and any thing that she thinks will vex me.
 

                               Sunday Afternoon.

Mrs. Jewkes has thought fit to give me an Airing, for three or four Hours this
Afternoon, and I am much better; and should be much more so, if I knew for what
I am reserve'd. But Health is a Blessing hardly to be coveted in my
Circumstances, since that fits me for the Calamity I am in continual
Apprehensions of; whereas a weak and sickly State might possibly move Compassion
for me. O how I dread the coming of this angry and incensed Master; tho' I am
sure I have done him no Harm!
    Just now we heard, that he had like to have been drown'd in crossing a
Stream, a few Days ago, in pursuing his Game. What is the Matter, with all his
ill Usage of me, that I cannot hate him? To be sure, I am not like other People!
I am sure he has done enough to make me hate him; but yet when I heard his
Danger, which was very great, I could not in my Heart forbear rejoicing for his
Safety; tho' his Death would have ended my Afflictions. Ungenerous Master! if
you knew this, you surely would not be so much my Persecutor! But for my late
good Lady's sake, I must wish him well; and O what an Angel would he be in my
Eyes yet, if he would cease his Attempts, and reform.
 
Well, I hear by Mrs. Jewkes, that John Arnold is turn'd away, being detected in
writing to Mr. Williams; and that Mr. Longman, and Mr. Jonathan the Butler, have
incurr'd his Displeasure, for offering to speak in my Behalf. Mrs. Jervis too is
in Danger; for all these three, belike, went together to beg in my Favour; for
now it is known where I am.
    Mrs. Jewkes has, with the News about my Master, receive'd a Letter; but she
says the Contents are too bad for me to know. They must be bad indeed, if they
be worse than what I have already known.
    Just now the horrid Creature tells me, as a Secret, that she has reason to
think he has found out a Way to satisfy my Scruples: It is, by marrying me to
this dreadful Colbrand, and buying me of him on the Wedding-day, for a Sum of
Money! - Was ever the like heard? - She says that it will be my Duty to obey my
Husband; and that Mr. Williams will be force'd, as a Punishment, to marry us; and
that when my Master has paid for me, and I am surrender'd up, the Swiss is to go
home again, with the Money, to his former Wife and Children, for she says, it is
the Custom of those People to have a Wife in every Nation.
    But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing! but abominable as it is, it may
possibly serve to introduce some Plot now hatching! - With what strange
Perplexities is my poor Mind agitated! Perchance, some Sham-marriage may be
design'd, on purpose to ruin me: But can a Husband sell his Wife, against her
own Consent? - And will such a Bargain stand good in Law?
 

  Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, the 32d, 33d, and 34th Days of my Imprisonment.

Nothing offers these Days but Squabblings between Mrs. Jewkes and me. She grows
worse and worse to me. I vexed her yesterday, because she talked nastily, and
told her she talk'd more like a vile London Prostitute, than a Gentleman's
Housekeeper; and she cannot use me bad enough for it. Bless me! she curses and
storms at me like a Trooper, and can hardly keep her Hands off me. You may
believe she must talk sadly to make me say such harsh Words: Indeed it cannot be
repeated; and she is a Disgrace to her Sex. And then she ridicules me, and
laughs at my Notions of Honesty; and tells me, impudent Creature that she is!
what a fine Bedfellow I shall make for my Master, and such-like, with such
whimsical Notions about me! - Do you think this is to be borne? And yet she
talks worse than this, if possible! - Quite filthily! O what vile Hands am I put
into!
 

                                   Thursday.

I Have now all the Reason that can be, to apprehend my Master will be here soon;
for the Servants are all busy in setting the House to rights; and a Stable and
Coach-house are cleaning out, that have not been us'd some time. I ask Mrs.
Jewkes; but she tells me nothing, nor will hardly answer me when I ask her a
Question. Sometimes I think she puts on these strange wicked Airs to me,
purposely to make me wish for what I dread most of all Things, my Master's
coming down. He talk of Love! - If he had any the least Notion of Regard for me,
to be sure he would not give this naughty Body such Power over me: - And if he
does come, where is his Promise of not seeing me without I consent to it? But it
seems His Honour owes me nothing! So he tells me in his Letter; and why? Because
I am willing to keep mine. But, indeed, he says, he hates me perfectly; and it
is plain he does, or I should not be left to the Mercy of this Woman; and, what
is worse, to my woeful Apprehensions.
 

                    Friday, the 36th Day of my Imprisonment.

I Took the Liberty yesterday Afternoon, finding the Gates open, to walk out
before the House; and before I was aware, had got to the Bottom of the long Row
of Elms; and there I sat myself down upon the Steps of a sort of broad Stile,
which leads into the Road, that goes towards the Town. And as I sat musing about
what always busies my Mind, I saw a whole Body of Folks, running towards me from
the House, Men and Women, as in a Fright. At first I wonder'd what was the
Matter, till they came nearer; and I found they were all alarm'd, thinking I had
attempted to get off. There was first the horrible Colbrand, running with his
long Legs, well nigh two Yards at a Stride; then there was one of the Grooms,
poor Mr. Williams's Robber; then I spy'd Nan, half out of Breath; and the
Cook-maid after her; and lastly, came waddling, as fast as she could, Mrs.
Jewkes, exclaiming most bitterly, as I found, against me. Colbrand said, O how
have you frighted us all! - And went behind me, lest I should run away, as I
suppose.
    I sat still, to let them see I had no View to get away; for, besides the
Improbability of succeeding, my last sad Attempt had cur'd me of enterprizing
again. And when Mrs. Jewkes came within hearing, I found her terribly incens'd,
and raving about my Contrivances. Why, said I, should you be so concerned? Here
I have sat a few Minutes, and had not the least Thought of getting away, or
going further; but to return as soon as it was duskish. She would not believe
me; and the barbarous Creature struck at me with her horrid Fist, and, I
believe, would have felled me, had not Colbrand interposed, and said, He saw me
sitting still, looking about me, and not seeming to have the least Inclination
to stir. But this would not serve: She order'd the two Maids to take me each by
an Arm, and lead me back into the House, and up Stairs; and there have I been
locked up ever since, without Shoes. In vain have I pleaded that I had no
Design, as, indeed I had not the least; and, last Night I was forced to lie
between her and Nan; and I find she is resolved to make a Handle of this against
me, and in her own Behalf. - Indeed, what with her Usage, and my own
Apprehensions of still worse, I am quite weary of my Life.
 
Just now she has been with me, and given me my Shoes, and has laid her imperious
Commands upon me, to dress myself in a Suit of clothes out of the Portmanteau,
which I have not seen lately, against three or four o'Clock; for, she says, she
is to have a Visit from Lady Darnford's two Daughters, who come purposely to see
me; and so she gave me the Key of the Portmanteau. But I will not obey her; and
I told her I would not be made a Shew of, nor see the Ladies. She left me,
saying, It should be worse for me, if I did not. But how can that be?
 

                             Five o'Clock is come,

And no young Ladies! - So that, I fancy - But, hold, I hear their Coach, I
believe. I'll step to the Window. - I won't go down to them, I am resolve'd. -
    Good Sirs! good Sirs! What will become of me! Here is my Master come in his
fine Chariot! - Indeed he is! - What shall I do? Where shall I hide myself! -
Oh! what shall I do! - Pray for me! But Oh! you'll not see this! - Now, good
Heaven preserve me! if it be thy blessed Will!
 



                                 Seven o'Clock.

 
Tho' I dread to see him, yet do I wonder I have not. To be sure something is
resolved against me, and he stays to hear all her Stories. I can hardly write;
yet, as I can do nothing else, I know not how to forbear! - Yet I cannot hold my
Pen! - How crooked and trembling the Lines! - I must leave off, till I can get
quieter Fingers! - Why should the Guiltless tremble so, when the Guilty can
possess their Minds in Peace!
 

                               Saturday Morning.

Now let me give you an Account of what passed last Night; for I had no Power to
write, nor yet Opportunity, till now.
 
This naughty Woman held my Master till half an Hour after seven; and he came
hither about five in the Afternoon. And then I heard his Voice on the Stairs, as
he was coming up to me. It was about his Supper; for he said, I shall choose a
boil'd Chicken, with Butter and Parsley. - And up he came!
    He put on a stern and majestick Air; and he can look very majestick when he
pleases. Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful Runaway, said he, for my first
Salutation! - You do well, don't you, to give me all this Trouble and Vexation?
I could not speak; but throwing myself on the Floor, hid my Face, and was ready
to die with Grief and Apprehension. - He said, Well may you hide your Face! well
may you be ashamed to see me, vile forward one, as you are! - I sobb'd, and
wept, but could not speak. And he let me lie, and went to the Door, and called
Mrs. Jewkes. - There, said he, take up that fallen Angel! - Once I thought her
as innocent as one! - But I have now no Patience with her. The little Hyprocrite
prostrates herself thus, in hopes to move my Weakness in her Favour, and that
I'll raise her from the Floor myself. But I shall not touch her: No, said he,
cruel Gentleman as he was! let such Fellows as Williams be taken in by her
artful Wiles; I know her now, and see that she is for any Fool's Turn, that will
be caught by her.
    I sighed, as if my Heart would break! - And Mrs. Jewkes lifted me up upon my
Knees; for I trembled so, I could not stand. Come, said she, Mrs. Pamela, learn
to know your best Friend; confess your unworthy Behaviour, and beg his Honour's
Forgiveness of all your Faults. I was ready to faint; and he said, She is
Mistress of Arts, I'll assure you; and will mimick a Fit, ten to one, in a
Minute.
    I was struck to the Heart at this; but could not speak presently; only
lifted up my Eyes to Heaven! - And at last made shift to say - God forgive you,
Sir! - He seem'd in a great Passion, and walked up and down the Room, casting
sometimes an Eye to me, and seeming as if he would have spoken, but check'd
himself. - And at last he said, When she has acted this her first Part over,
perhaps I will see her again, and she shall soon know what she has to trust to.
    And so he went out of the Room: And I was quite sick at Heart! - Surely,
said I, I am the wickedest Creature that ever breath'd! Well, said the
Impertinent, not so wicked as that neither; but I am glad you begin to see your
Faults. Nothing like being humble! - Come, I'll stand your Friend, and plead for
you, if you'll promise to be more dutiful for the future: Come, come, added the
Wretch, this may be all made up by to-morrow Morning, if you are not a Fool. -
Begone, hideous Woman! said I; and let not my Afflictions be added to by thy
inexorable Cruelty, and unwomanly Wickedness!
    She gave me a Push, and went away in a violent Passion. And it seems, she
made a Story of this; and said, I had such a Spirit, there was no bearing it.
    I laid me down on the Floor, and had no Power to stir, till the Clock struck
Nine; and then the wicked Woman came up again. You must come down Stairs, said
she, to my Master; that is, if you please, Spirit! - Said I, I believe I cannot
stand. Then, said she, I'll send Monsieur Colbrand to carry you down.
    I got up, as well as I could, and trembled all the way down Stairs. And she
went before me into the Parlour; and a new Servant, that he had waiting on him
instead of John, withdrew as soon as I came in.
 
I thought, said he, when I came down, you should have sat at Table with me, when
I had not Company; but when I find you cannot forget your Original, but must
prefer my Menials to me, I call you down to wait on me, while I sup, that I may
have a little Talk with you, and throw away as little Time as possible upon you.
    Sir, said I, you do me Honour to wait upon you - And I never shall, I hope,
forget my Original. But I was forced to stand behind his Chair, that I might
hold by it. Fill me, said he, a Glass of that Burgundy. I went to do it; but my
Hand shook so, that I could not hold the Plate with the Glass in it, and spilt
some of the Wine. So Mrs. Jewkes pour'd it for me, and I carry'd it as well as I
could; and made a low Curchee. He took it, and said, Stand behind me, out of my
Sight!
    Why, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you tell me, she remains very sullen still, and
eats nothing. No, said she, not so much as will keep Life and Soul together. -
And is always crying, you say, too? said he. Yes, Sir, said she, I think she is,
for one thing or another. Ay, said he, your young Wenches will feed upon their
Tears; and their Obstinacy will serve them for Meat and Drink. I think I never
saw her look better, tho', in my Life! - But I suppose she lives upon Love. This
sweet Mr. Williams, and her little villainous Plots together, have kept her
alive and well, to be sure. For Mischief, Love, and Contradiction, are the
natural Aliments of a Woman.
    Poor I was forced to hear all this, and be silent; and indeed my Heart was
too full to speak.
    And so you say, said he, that she had another Project, but Yesterday, to get
away? She denies it herself, said she; but it had all the Appearance of one. I'm
sure she made me in a fearful Pucker about it. And I am glad your Honour is
come, with all my Heart; and I hope, whatever be your Honour's Intention
concerning her, you will not be long about it; for you'll find her as slippery
as an Eel, I'll assure you!
    Sir, said I, and clasped his Knees with my Arms, not knowing what I did, and
falling on my Knees, Have Mercy on me, and hear me, concerning that wicked
Woman's Usage of me. -
    He cruelly interrupted me, and said, I am satisfy'd she has done her Duty:
It signifies nothing what you say against Mrs. Jewkes. That you are here, little
Hyprocrite as you are, pleading your Cause before me, is owing to her Care of
you; else you had been with the Parson. - Wicked Girl! said he, to tempt a Man
to undo himself, as you have done him, at a Time when I was on the Point of
making him happy for his Life!
    I arose, but said, with a deep Sigh, I have done, Sir, I have done! I have a
strange Tribunal to plead before. The poor Sheep, in the Fable, had such an one;
when it was try'd before the Vultur, on the Accusation of the Wolf!
    So, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you are the Wolf, I the Vultur, and this the poor
innocent Lamb, on her Trial before us. - Oh! you don't know how well this
Innocent is read in Reflection. She has Wit at Will, when she has a mind to
display her own romantick Innocence, at the Price of other People's Characters.
    Well, said the aggravating Creature, this is nothing to what she has called
me; I have been a Jezebel, a London Prostitute, and what not? - But I am
contented with her ill Names, now I see it is her Fashion, and she can call your
Honour a Vultur.
    Said I, I had no Thought of comparing my Master - And was going to say on:
But he said, Don't prate, Girl! - No, said she, it don't become you, I'll assure
you.
    Well, said I, since I must not speak, I will hold my Peace: But there is a
righteous Judge, who knows the Secrets of all Hearts! and to him I appeal.
    See there! said he: Now this meek, good Creature is praying for Fire from
Heaven upon us! O she can curse most heartily, in the Spirit of Christian
Meekness, I'll assure you! - Come, Sawcy-face, give me another Glass of Wine!
    So I did, as well as I could; but wept so, that he said, I suppose I shall
have some of your Tears in my Wine!
    When he had supp'd, he stood up, and said, O how happy for you it is, that
you can, at Will, thus make your speaking Eyes overflow in this manner, without
losing any of their Brilliancy! you have been told, I suppose, that you are most
beautiful in your Tears! - Did you ever, said he to her, (who all this while was
standing in one Corner of the Parlour) see a more charming Creature than this?
Is it to be wonder'd at, that I demean myself thus to take Notice of her! - See,
said he, and took the Glass with one Hand, and turn'd me round with the other.
What a Shape! what a Neck! what a Hand! and what a Bloom in that lovely Face! -
But who can describe the Tricks and Artifices, that lie lurking in her little,
plotting, guileful Heart! 'Tis no Wonder the poor Parson was infatuated with
her! - I blame him less than her; for who could expect such Artifice in so young
a Sorceress!
    I went to the further Part of the Room, and held my Face against the
Wainscot; and, in spite of all I could do to refrain crying, sobb'd, as if my
Heart would break. He said, I am Surprise'd, Mrs. Jewkes, at the Mistake of the
Letters you tell me of! But, you see, I am not afraid any body should read what
I write. I don't carry on private Correspondencies, and reveal every Secret that
comes to my Knowledge, and then corrupt People to carry my Letters, against
their Duty, and all good Conscience.
    Come hither, Hussy, said he; you and I have a dreadful Reckoning to make. -
Why don't you come, when I bid you? - Fie upon it! Mrs. Pamela, said she, what!
not stir, when his Honour commands you to come to him! - Who knows but his
Goodness will forgive you?
    He came to me, (for I had no Power to stir) and put his Arms about my Neck,
and would kiss me; and said, Well, Mrs. Jewkes, if it were not for the Thought
of this cursed Parson, I believe in my Heart, so great is my Weakness, that I
could yet forgive this intriguing little Slut, and take her to my Bosom.
    O, said the Sycophant, you are very good, Sir, very forgiving, indeed! - But
come, added the profligate Wretch, I hope you will be so good, as to take her to
your Bosom; and that, by to-morrow Morning, you'll bring her to a better Sense
of her Duty!
    Could any thing, in Womanhood, be so vile! I had no Patience: But yet Grief
and Indignation choaked up the Passage of my Words; and I could only stammer out
a passionate Exclamation to Heaven, to protect my Innocence. But the Word was
the Subject of their Ridicule. Was ever poor Creature worse beset!
    He said, as if he had been considering whether he could forgive me or not.
No, I cannot yet forgive her neither - She has given me great Disturbance; has
brought great Discredit upon me, both abroad and at home; has corrupted all my
Servants at the other House; has despised my honourable Views and Intentions to
her, and sought to run away with this ingrateful Parson - And surely I ought not
to forgive her all this! - Yet, with all this wretched Grimace, he kissed me
again, and would have put his Hand in my Bosom; but I struggled, and said, I
would die before I would be used thus. - Consider, Pamela, said he, in a
threatening Tone, consider where you are! and don't play the Fool: If you do, a
more dreadful Fate awaits you than you expect. But, take her up Stairs, Mrs.
Jewkes, and I'll send a few Lines to her to consider of; and let me have your
Answer, Pamela, in the Morning. Till then you have to resolve: And after that,
your Doom is fix'd. - So I went up Stairs, and gave myself up to Grief and
Expectation of what he would send: But yet I was glad of this Night's Reprieve!
 
He sent me, however, nothing at all. And about Twelve o'Clock, Mrs. Jewkes and
Nan came up, as the Night before, to be my Bedfellows; and I would go to-bed
with two of my Petticoats on; which they mutter'd at sadly; and Mrs. Jewkes
railed at me particularly: Indeed I would have sat up all Night, for Fear, if
she would have let me. For I had but very little Rest that Night, apprehending
this Woman would let my Master in. She did nothing but praise him, and blame me;
but I answer'd her as little as I could.
    He has Sir Simon Tell-tale, alias Darnford, to dine with him to-day, whose
Family sent to welcome him into the Country; and it seems, the old Knight wants
to see me; so I suppose I shall be sent for, as Samson was, to make Sport for
him - Here I am, and must bear it all!
 

                         Twelve o'Clock Saturday Noon.

Just now he has sent me up, by Mrs. Jewkes, the following Proposals. So here are
the honourable Intentions all at once laid open. They are, my dear Parents, to
make me a vile kept Mistress: Which God, I hope, will always enable me to detest
the Thoughts of. But you'll see how they are accommodated to what I should have
most love'd, could I have honestly promoted it, your Welfare and Happiness. I
have answer'd them, as you'll, I'm sure, approve; and I am prepared for the
worst: For tho' I fear there will be nothing omitted to ruin me, and tho' my
poor Strength will not be able to defend me, yet I will be innocent of Crime in
my Intention, and in the Sight of God; and to him leave the avenging of all my
Wrongs, in his own good Time and Manner. I shall write to you my Answer against
his Articles; and hope the best, tho' I fear the worst. But if I should come
home to you ruin'd and undone, and may not be able to look you in the Face; yet
pity and inspirit the poor Pamela, to make her little Remnant of Life easy; for
long I shall not survive my Disgrace. And you may be assured it shall not be my
Fault, if it be my Misfortune.
 

                            »To Mrs. Pamela Andrews.

The following ARTICLES are proposed to your serious Consideration; and let me
have an Answer, in Writing, to them; that I may take my Resolutions accordingly.
Only remember, that I will not be trifled with; and what you give for Answer,
will absolutely decide your Fate, without Expostulation or further Trouble.
 
I. If you can convince me, that the hated Parson has had no Encouragement from
you in his Addresses; and that you have no Inclination for him, in Preference to
me; then I will offer the following Proposals to you, which I will punctually
make good.
 
II. I will directly make you a Present of 500 Guineas, for your own Use, which
you may dispose of to any Purpose you please: And will give it absolutely into
the Hands of any Person you shall appoint to receive it; and expect no Favour in
Return, till you are satisfy'd in the Possession of it.
 
III. I will likewise directly make over to you a Purchase I lately made in Kent,
which brings in 250 l. per Annum, clear of all Deductions. This shall be made
over to you in full Property for your Life, and for the Lives of any Children,
to Perpetuity, that you may happen to have: And your Father shall be immediately
put into Possession of it, in Trust for these Purposes. And the Management of it
will yield a comfortable Subsistence to him and your Mother, for Life; and I
will make up any Deficiencies, if such should happen, to that clear Sum, and
allow him 50 l. per Annum besides, for his Life, and that of your Mother, for
his Care and Management of this your Estate.
 
IV. I will, moreover, extend my Favour to any other of your Relations, that you
may think worthy of it, or that are valued by you.
 
V. I will, besides, order Patterns to be sent you for choosing four complete
Suits of rich clothes, that you may appear with Reputation, as if you was my
Wife. And I will give you the two Diamond Rings, and two Pair of Ear-rings, and
Diamond Necklace, that were bought by my Mother, to present to Miss Tomlins, if
the Match had been brought to Effect, that was proposed between her and me: And
I will confer upon you still other Gratuities, as I shall find myself obliged,
by your good Behaviour and Affection.
 
VI. Now, Pamela, will you see by this, what a Value I set upon the Free-will of
a Person already in my Power; and who, if these Proposals are not accepted,
shall find that I have not taken all these Pains, and risqued my Reputation, as
I have done, without resolving to gratify my Passion for you, at all Adventures,
and if you refuse, without making any Terms at all.
 
VII. You shall be Mistress of my Person and Fortune, as much as if the foolish
Ceremony had passed. All my Servants shall be yours; and you shall choose any two
Persons to attend yourself, either Male or Female, without any Controul of mine;
and if your Conduct be such, that I have Reason to be satisfied with it, I know
not (but will not engage for this) that I may, after a Twelvemonth's
Cohabitation, marry you; for if my Love increases for you, as it has done for
many Months past, it will be impossible for me to deny you any thing.
    And now, Pamela, consider well, it is in your Power to oblige me on such
Terms, as will make yourself, and all your Friends, happy: But this will be over
this very Day, irrevocably over; and you shall find all you would be thought to
fear, without the least Benefit arising from it to yourself. - And I beg you'll
well weigh the Matter, and comply with my Proposals; and I will instantly set
about securing to you the full Effect of them: And let me, if you value
yourself, experience a grateful Return on this Occasion; and I'll forgive all
that's past.«
 

                               This is my Answer.

Forgive, good Sir, the Spirit your poor Servant is about to show in her Answer
to your ARTICLES. Not to be warm, and in earnest, on such an Occasion as the
present, would show a Degree of Guilt, that, I hope, my Soul abhors. I will not
trifle with you, nor act like a Person doubtful of her own Mind; for it wants
not one Moment's Consideration with me; and I therefore return the Answer
following, let what will be the Consequence.
 
I. As to the first Article, Sir, it may behove me, that I may not deserve, in
your Opinion, the opprobrious Terms of forward and artful, and the like, to
declare solemnly, that Mr. Williams never had the least Encouragement from me,
as to what you hint; and I believe his principal Motive was the apprehended Duty
of his Function, quite contrary to his apparent Interest, to assist a Person he
thought in Distress. You may, Sir, the rather believe me, when I declare, that I
know not the Man breathing I would wish to marry; and that the only one I could
honour more than another, is the Gentleman, who, of all others, seeks my
everlasting Dishonour.
 
II. As to your second Proposal, let the Consequence be what it will, I reject it
with all my Soul. Money, Sir, is not my chief Good: May God Almighty desert me,
whenever it is; and whenever, for the sake of that, I can give up my Title to
that blessed Hope which will stand me in stead, at a Time when Millions of Gold
will not purchase one happy Moment of Reflection on a past mis-spent Life!
 
III. Your third Proposal, Sir, I reject, for the same Reason; and am sorry you
could think my poor honest Parents would enter into their Part of it, and be
concerned for the Management of an Estate, which would be owing to the
Prostitution of their poor Daughter. Forgive, Sir, my Warmth on this Occasion;
but you know not the poor Man, and the poor Woman, my ever dear Father and
Mother, if you think that they would not much rather choose to starve in a Ditch,
or rot in a noisome Dunghil, than accept of the Fortune of a Monarch, upon such
wicked Terms. I dare not say all that my full Mind suggests to me on this
grievous Occasion. - But indeed, Sir, you know them not; nor shall the Terrors
of Death, in its most frightful Forms, I hope, thro' God's assisting Grace, ever
make me act unworthy of such poor honest Parents.
 
IV. Your fourth Proposal, I take upon me, Sir, to answer as the third. If I have
any Friends that want the Favour of the Great, may they ever want it, if they
are capable of desiring it on unworthy Terms!
 
V. Fine clothes, Sir, become not me; nor have I any Ambition to wear them. I
have greater Pride in my Poverty and Meanness, than I should have in Dress and
Finery. Believe me, Sir, I think such things less become the humble-born Pamela,
than the Rags your good Mother raised me from. Your Rings, Sir, your Necklace,
and your Ear-rings, will better befit Ladies of Degree, than me: And to lose the
best Jewel, my Virtue, would be poorly recompensed by those you propose to give
me. What should I think, when I looked upon my Finger, or saw, in the Glass,
those Diamonds on my Neck, and in my Ears, but that they were the Price of my
Honesty; and that I wore those Jewels outwardly, because I had none inwardly?
 
VI. I know, Sir, by woeful Experience, that I am in your Power: I know all the
Resistance I can make will be poor and weak, and perhaps stand me in little
stead: I dread your Will to ruin me is as great as your Power: Yet, Sir, will I
dare to tell you, that I will make no Free-will Offering of my Virtue. All that
I can do, poor as it is, I will do, to convince you, that your Offers shall have
no Part in my Choice; and if I cannot escape the Violence of Man, I hope, by
God's Grace, I shall have nothing to reproach myself, for not doing all in my
Power to avoid my Disgrace; and then I can safely appeal to the great God, my
only Refuge and Protector, with this Consolation, That my Will bore no Part in
my Violation.
 
VII. I have not once dared to look so high, as to such a Proposal as your
seventh Article contains. Hence have proceeded all my little, abortive Artifices
to escape from the Confinement you have put me in; altho' you promised to be
honourable to me. Your Honour, well I knew, would not let you stoop to so mean
and so unworthy a Slave, as the poor Pamela: All I desire is, to be permitted to
return to my native Meanness unviolated. What have I done, Sir, to deserve it
should be otherwise? For the obtaining of this, tho' I would not have marry'd
your Chaplain, yet would I have run away with your meanest Servant, if I had
thought I could have got safe to my beloved Poverty. I heard you once say, Sir,
That a certain great Commander, who could live upon Lentils, might well refuse
the Bribes of the greatest Monarch; and, I hope, as I can contentedly live at
the meanest Rate, and think not myself above the lowest Condition, that I am
also above making an Exchange of my Honesty for all the Riches of the Indies.
When I come to be proud and vain of gaudy Apparel, and outside Finery; then,
(which, I hope, will never be) may I rest my principal Good in such vain
Trinkets, and despise for them the more solid Ornaments of a good Fame, and a
Chastity inviolate!
    Give me Leave to say, Sir, in Answer to what you hint, That you may, in a
Twelvemonth's Time, marry me, on the Continuance of my good Behaviour; that this
weighs less with me, if possible, than any thing else you have said. For, in the
first Place, there is an End of all Merit, and all good Behaviour, on my Side,
if I have now any, the Moment I consent to your Proposals. And I should be so
far from expecting such an Honour, that I will pronounce, that I should be most
unworthy of it. What, Sir, would the World say, were you to marry your Harlot? -
That a Gentleman of your Rank in Life, should stoop, not only to the base-born
Pamela, but to a base-born Prostitute? - Little, Sir, as I know of the World, I
am not to be caught by a Bait so poorly cover'd as this!
    Yet, after all, dreadful is the Thought, that I, a poor, weak, friendless,
unhappy Creature, am too fully in your Power! But permit me, Sir, to pray, as I
now write, on my bended Knees, That before you resolve upon my Ruin, you will
weigh well the Matter. Hitherto, Sir, tho' you have taken large Strides to this
crying Sin, yet are you on this Side the Commission of it - When once it is
done, nothing can recall it! And where will be your Triumph? - What Glory will
the Spoils of such a weak Enemy yield you? Let me but enjoy my Poverty with
Honesty, is all my Prayer; and I will bless you, and pray for you every Moment
of my Life! Think, O think! before it is yet too late! what Stings, what Remorse
will attend your dying Hour, when you come to reflect, that you have ruin'd,
perhaps Soul and Body, a wretched Creature, whose only Pride was her Virtue! And
how pleas'd you will be, on the contrary, if in that tremendous Moment you shall
be able to acquit yourself of this foul Crime, and to plead in your own Behalf,
that you suffer'd the earnest Supplications of an unhappy Wretch to prevail with
you to be innocent yourself, and let her remain so! - May God Almighty, whose
Mercy so lately save'd you from the Peril of perishing in deep Waters, (on which,
I hope, you will give me Cause to congratulate you!) touch your Heart in my
Favour, and save you from this Sin, and me from this Ruin! - And to Him do I
commit my Cause; and to Him will I give the Glory, and Night and Day pray for
you, if I may be permitted to escape this great Evil! - From
Your poor, oppressed,
                                                        broken-spirited Servant.
 
I took a Copy of this for your Perusal, if I shall ever be so happy to see you
again, my dear Parents (for I hope my Conduct shall be approved of by you); and
at Night, when Sir Simon was gone, he sent for me down. Well, said he, have you
considered my Proposals? Yes, Sir, said I, I have: And there is my Answer. But
pray let me not see you read it. Is it your Bashfulness, said he, or your
Obstinacy, that makes you not choose I should read it before you?
    I offer'd to go away; and he said, Don't run from me; I won't read it till
you are gone. But, said he, tell me, Pamela, whether you comply with my
Proposals, or not? Sir, said I, you will see presently; pray don't hold me; for
he took my Hand. Said he, Did you well consider before you answer'd? - I did,
Sir, said I. If it be not what you think will please me, said he, dear Girl,
take it back again, and reconsider it; for if I have this as your absolute
Answer, and I don't like it, you are undone; for I will not sue meanly, where I
can command. I fear, said he, it is not what I like, by your Manner. And, let me
tell you, That I cannot bear Denial. If the Terms I have offer'd are not
sufficient, I will augment them to two Thirds of my Estate; for, said he, and
swore a dreadful Oath, I cannot live without you: And since the thing is gone so
far, I will not! - And so he clasped me in his Arms, in such a manner as quite
frighted me; and kissed me two or three times.
 
I got from him, and run up Stairs, and went to the Closet, and was quite uneasy
and fearful.
    In an Hour's time, he called Mrs. Jewkes down to him; and I heard him very
high in Passion: And all about poor me! And I heard her say. It was his own
Fault; there would be an End of all my Complaining and Perverseness, if he was
once resolved; and other most impudent Aggravations. I am resolved not to go
to-bed this Night, if I can help it - Lie still, lie still, my poor fluttering
Heart! - what will become of me!
 

                     Almost Twelve o'Clock Saturday Night.

He sent Mrs. Jewkes, about Ten o'Clock, to tell me to come to him. Where? said
I. I'll show you, said she. I went down three or four Steps, and saw her making
to his Chamber, the Door of which was open: So I said, I cannot go there! -
Don't be foolish, said she; but come; no Harm will be done to you! - Well, said
I, if I die, I cannot go there. I heard him say, Let her come, or it shall be
worse for her. I can't bear, said he, to speak to her myself! - Well, said I, I
cannot come, indeed I cannot; and so I went up again into my Closet, expecting
to be fetch'd by Force.
    But she came up soon after, and bid me make haste to-bed: Said I, I will not
go to-bed this Night, that's certain! - Then, said she, you shall be made to
come to-bed; and Nan and I will undress you. I knew neither Prayers nor Tears
would move this wicked Woman: So, I said, I am sure you will let my Master in,
and I shall be undone! Mighty Piece of Undone, she said! But he was too
exasperated against me, to be so familiar with me, she would assure me - Ay,
said she, you'll be disposed of another way soon, I can tell you for your
Comfort; And I hope your Husband will have your Obedience, tho' nobody else can.
No Husband in the World, said I, shall make me do an unjust or base thing. - She
said, That would be soon try'd; and Nan coming in, What, said I, am I to have
two Bedfellows again, these warm Nights? Yes, said she, Slippery-ones, you are,
till you can have one good one instead of us. Said I, Mrs. Jewkes, don't talk
nastily to me. I see you are beginning again; and I shall affront you, may-be;
for next to bad Actions, are bad Words, for they could not be spoken, if they
were not in the Heart. - Come to-bed, Purity! said she. You are a Nonsuch, I
suppose. Indeed, said I, I can't come to-bed; and it will do you no harm to let
me sit all Night in the great Chair. Nan, said she, undress my young Lady. If
she won't let you, I'll help you: And if neither of us can do it quietly, we'll
call my Master to do it for us; tho', said she, I think it an Office worthier of
Monsieur Colbrand! - You are very wicked, said I. I know it, said she: I am a
Jezebel, and a London Prostitute, you know. You did great Feats, said I, to tell
my Master all this poor Stuff! But you did not tell him how you beat me: No,
Lambkin, said she, (a Word I had not heard a good while) that I left for you to
tell; and you was going to do it, if the Vultur had not taken the Wolf's Part,
and bid the poor innocent Lamb be silent! - Ay, said I, no matter for your
Fleers, Mrs. Jewkes; tho' I can have neither Justice nor Mercy here, and cannot
be heard in my Defence, yet a Time will come, may-be, when I shall be heard, and
when your own Guilt will strike you dumb - Ay, Spirit! said she; and the Vultur
too! Must we both be dumb? Why that, Lambkin, will be pretty! - Then, said the
wicked one, you'll have all the Talk to yourself! - Then how will the Tongue of
the pretty Lambkin bleat out Innocence, and Virtue, and Honesty, till the whole
Trial be at an End! - You're a wicked Woman, that's certain, said I; and if you
thought any thing of another World, could not talk thus. But no Wonder! - It
shows what Hands I am got into! - Ay, so it does, said she; but I beg you'll
undress, and come to-bed, or I believe your Innocence won't keep you from still
worse Hands. I will come to bed, said I, if you will let me have the Keys in my
own Hand; not else, if I can help it. Yes, said she, and then, hey! for another
Contrivance, another Escape! - No, no, said I, all my Contrivances are over,
I'll assure you! Pray let me have the Keys, and I will come to-bed. She came to
me, and took me in her huge Arms, as if I was a Feather; said she, I do this to
show you, what a poor Resistance you can make against me, if I pleased to exert
myself; and so, Lambkin, don't say to your Wolf, I won't come to-bed! - And set
me down, and tapped me on the Neck: Ah! said she, thou art a pretty Creature,
it's true; but so obstinate! so full of Spirit! If thy Strength was but
answerable to that, thou wouldst run away with us all, and this great House too
on thy Back! but undress, undress, I tell you.
    Well, said I, I see my Misfortunes make you very merry, and very witty too:
But I will love you, if you will humour me with the Keys of the Chamber-doors. -
Are you sure you will love me, said she? - Now speak your Conscience! - Why,
said I, you must not put it so close; neither would you, if you thought you had
not given Reason to doubt it! - But I will love you as well as I can! - I would
not tell a wilful Lye: And if I did, you would not believe me, after your hard
Usage of me. Well, said she, that's all fair, I own! - But Nan, pray pull off my
young Lady's Shoes and Stockens. - No, pray don't, said I; I will come to-bed
presently, since I must.
    And so I went to the Closet, and scribbled a little about this idle
Chit-chat. And she being importunate, I was forced to go to-bed; but with two of
my Coats on, as the former Night; and she let me hold the two Keys; for there
are two Locks, there being a double Door; and so I got a little Sleep that
Night, having had none for two or three Nights before.
    I can't imagine what she means; but Nan offer'd to talk a little once or
twice; and she snubbed her, and said, I charge you, Wench, don't open your Lips
before me! And if you are asked any Questions by Mrs. Pamela, don't answer her
one Word, while I am here! - But she is a lordly Woman to the Maid-servants, and
that has always been her Character. O how unlike good Mrs. Jervis in every
thing!
 

                                Sunday Morning.

A Thought came into my Head; I meant no Harm; but it was a little bold. For
seeing my Master dressing to go to Church, and his Chariot getting ready, I went
to my Closet, and I writ,
 
        The Prayers of this Congregation are earnestly desired for a Gentleman
        of great Worth and Honour, who labours under a Temptation to exert his
        great Power to ruin a poor, distressed, worthless Maiden.
And also,
        The Prayers of this Congregation are earnestly desired, by a poor
        distressed Creature, for the Preservation of her Virtue and Innocence.
 
Mrs. Jewkes came up; Always writing, said she! and would see it. And strait, all
that ever I could say, carry'd it down to my Master. - He look'd upon it, and
said, Tell her, she shall soon see how her Prayers are answer'd. She is very
bold. But as she has rejected all my Favours, her Reckoning for all is not far
off. I look'd after him, out of the Window, and he was charmingly dress'd: To be
sure, he is a handsome fine Gentleman! - What pity his Heart is not as good as
his Appearance! Why can't I hate him? - But don't be uneasy, if you should see
this; for it is impossible I should love him; for his Vices all ugly him over,
as I may say.
 
My Master sends Word, that he shall not come home to Dinner: I suppose he dines
with this Sir Simon Darnford. I am much concerned for poor Mr. Williams. Mrs.
Jewkes says, he is confined still, and takes on much. All his Trouble is brought
upon him for my sake: This grieves me much. My Master, it seems, will have his
Money from him. This is very hard; for it is three fifty Pounds, he gave him, as
he thought, as a Salary for three Years that he has been with him. But there was
no Agreement between them; and he absolutely depended on my Master's Favour. To
be sure, it was the more generous of him to run these Risques for the sake of
oppressed Innocence; and I hope he will meet with his Reward in due Time. Alas!
For me! I dare not plead for him; that would raise my Oppressor's Jealousy more.
And I have not Interest to save myself!
 

                                Sunday Evening.

Mrs. Jewkes has received a Line from my Master. I wonder what it is; but his
Chariot is come home without him. But she will tell me nothing; so it is in vain
to ask her. I am so fearful of Plots and Tricks, I know not what to do! - Every
thing I suspect; for now my Disgrace is avow'd, what can I think! - To be sure
the worst will be attempted! I can only pour out my Soul in Prayer to God, for
his blessed Protection. But if I must suffer, let me not be long a mournful
Survivor! - Only let me not shorten my own Time sinfully! -
    This Woman left upon the Table, in the Chamber, this Letter of my Master's
to her; and I bolted myself in, till I had transcrib'd it. You'll see how
tremblingly by the Lines. I wish poor Mr. Williams's Release at any Rate; but
this Letter makes my Heart ake. Yet I have another Day's Reprieve, thank God!
 
        »Mrs. Jewkes,
            I Have been so press'd on Williams's Affair, that I shall set out
        this Afternoon, in Sir Simon's Chariot, and with Parson Peters, who is
        his Intercessor, for Stamford; and shall not be back till to-morrow
        Evening, if then. As to your Ward, I am thoroughly incensed against her.
        She has withstood her Time; and now, would she sign and seal to my
        Articles, it is too late. I shall discover something, perhaps, by him,
        and will, on my Return, let her know, that all her insnaring Loveliness
        shall not save her from the Fate that awaits her. But let her know
        nothing of this, lest it put her fruitful Mind upon Plots and Artifices.
        Be-sure trust her not without another with you at Night, lest she
        venture the Window in her foolish Rashness: For I shall require her at
        your Hands.
                                                                    Yours, etc.«
 
I had but just finished taking a Copy of this, and laid the Letter where I had
it, and unbolted the Door, when she came up in a great Fright, for fear I should
have seen it; but I being in my Closet, and that lying as she left it, she did
not mistrust. O, said she, I was afraid you had seen my Master's Letter here,
which I carelesly left on the Table. I wish, said I, I had known that. Why sure,
said she, if you had, you would not have offer'd to read my Letters. Indeed,
said I, I should, at this Time, if it had been in my way - Do, let me see it -
Well, said she, I wish poor Mr. Williams well off: I understand my Master is
gone to make up Matters with him; which is very good. To be sure, added she, he
is a very good Gentleman, and very forgiving! - Why, said I, as if I had known
nothing of the Matter, how can he make up Matters with him? Is not Mr. Williams
at Stamford? Yes, said she, I believe so; but Parson Peters pleads for him, and
he is gone with him to Stamford, and will not be back to Night: So, we have
nothing to do, but to eat our Suppers betimes, and go to-bed. Ay, that's pure,
said I; and I shall have good Rest, this Night, I hope. So, said she, you might
every Night, but for your own idle Fears. You are afraid of your Friends, when
none are near you. Ay, that's true, said I; for I have not one near me.
    So have I one more good honest Night before me! What the next may be, I know
not; and so I'll try to take in a good deal of Sleep, while I can be easy. And
so here I say Good-night, my dear Parents; for I have no more to write about
this Night: And tho' his Letter shocks me, yet I will be as brisk as I can, that
she mayn't suspect I have seen it.
 

                                 Tuesday Night.

For the future, I will always mistrust most when Appearances look fairest. O
your poor Daughter, what has she not suffer'd since what I wrote of Sunday
Night! - My worst Trial, and my fearfullest Danger! O how I shudder to write you
an Account of this wicked Interval of Time! For, my dear Parents, will you not
be too much frighten'd and affected with my Distress, when I tell you, that his
Journey to Stamford was all abominable Pretence? for he came home privately, and
had well nigh effected all his vile Purposes, and the Ruin of your poor
Daughter; and that by such a Plot as I was not in the least apprehensive of: And
Oh! you'll hear what a vile and unwomanly Part that wicked Wretch, Mrs. Jewkes,
acted in it!
    I left off with letting you know how much I was pleased, that I had one
Night's Reprieve added to my Honesty. But I had less Occasion to rejoice than
ever, as you will judge by what I have said already. Take then the dreadful
Story as well as I can relate it.
    The Maid Nan is a little apt to drink, if she can get at Liquor; and Mrs.
Jewkes happen'd, or design'd, 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 supp'd, 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 I went
up to go to-bed; I pleasing myself with what a charming Night I should have. We
lock'd both Doors, and saw poor Nan, as I thought, (for Oh! it was 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 lie better without her. Ay, said I,
so we shall, if she don't get Cold.
    Said she, I hope you have no Writing to Night. No, reply'd 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 Conveniencies of that kind, and more
Paper, than I am aware of; and I had intended to romage you, if my Master had
not come down; for I 'spy'd a broken Tea-cup with Ink, which gave me a
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 fetch'd a deep Sigh! What
do you sigh so for? said she. I am thinking, Mrs. Jewkes, answer'd I, what a sad
Life I live, and how hard is my Lot. I am sure the Thief that has robb'd, is
much better off than I, 'bating the Guilt; and I should, I think, take it for a
Mercy, to be hang'd 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 instil 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 confirm'd
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 Bye-word.
    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 learnt 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, tho' 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 have I lived above 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, it 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 trick'd 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 abandon'd 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 ruin me; but
contriving, if my poor Wits had been able, to get out of my Danger, and preserve
myself honest.
    Then was he once jealous of poor John, tho' 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 try 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 to such an unlawful
Restraint; and which would not be 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, tho' he is so far off. And I had 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; but 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 Closets, and kneeled down in my own, as I used to do,
to say my Prayers; and this with my under clothes in my Hand, all undrest, 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 Meannesses will not Lucifer make
his Votaries stoop to, to gain their abominable Ends!
    Mrs. Jewkes, by this time, was got to-bed, on the further 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? tho' 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-ach finely to-morrow for it. 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 say but 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 was no Stranger to his fine Articles. Said she, I think they were fine
Articles, and you was bewitch'd you did not close in with them: But let us go to
sleep. So I was silent; and the pretended Nan (O wicked, base, villainous
Designer! what a Plot, what an unexpected Plot was this!) seem'd to be awaking;
and Mrs. Jewkes, abhorred 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. Ann, I warrant
your Head achs most sadly! How do you do? - She answer'd not one Word. Said the
superlatively wicked Woman, You know I have order'd her not to answer you. And
this Plot, to be sure, was laid when she gave her these Orders, the Night
before.
    I heard her, as I thought, breathe all quick and short: Indeed, said I, Mrs.
Jewkes, the poor Maid is not well. What ails you, Mrs. Ann? And still no Answer
was made.
    But, I tremble to relate it, the pretended She came into Bed; but quiver'd
like an Aspin-leaf; and I, poor Fool that I was! pitied her much. - But well
might the barbarous Deceiver tremble at his vile Dissimulation, and base
Designs.
    What Words shall I find, my dear Mother, (for my Father should not see this
shocking Part) to describe the rest, and my Confusion, when the guilty Wretch
took my Left-arm, and laid it under his Neck, as the vile Procuress held my
Right; and then he clasp'd me round my Waist!
    Said I, Is the Wench mad! Why, how now, Confidence? thinking still it had
been Nan. But he kissed me with frightful Vehemence; and then his Voice broke
upon me like a Clap of Thunder. Now, Pamela, said he, is the dreadful Time of
Reckoning come, that I have threaten'd. - I scream'd out in such a manner, as
never any body heard the like. But there was nobody to help me: And both my
Hands were secured, as I said. Sure never poor Soul was in such Agonies as I.
Wicked Man! said I; wicked, abominable Woman! O God! my God! this Time, this one
Time! deliver me from this Distress! or strike me dead this Moment; and then I
scream'd again and again.
    Says he, One Word with you, Pamela; one Word hear me but; and hitherto you
see I offer nothing to you. Is this nothing, said I, to be in Bed here? To hold
my Hands between you? I will hear, if you will instantly leave the Bed, and take
this villainous Woman from me!
    Said she, (O Disgrace of Womankind!) What you do, Sir, do; don't stand
dilly-dallying. She cannot exclaim worse than she has done. And she'll be
quieter when she knows the worst.
    Silence, said he to her; I must say one Word to you, Pamela; it is this: You
see, now you are in my Power! - You cannot get from me, nor help yourself: Yet
have I not offer'd 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! - And then,
(for this was all detestable Grimace) he put his Hand in my Bosom. 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 setting 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 I have suffer'd 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, vow'd, that he had not
offer'd the least Indecency; that he was frighten'd at the terrible manner I was
taken with the Fit: That he would desist from his Attempt; and begg'd but to see
me easy and quiet, and he would leave me directly, and go to his own Bed. O
then, said I, take from me 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 pacify'd. Here's Nan knows, and will
tell you my Concern for you. I vow to God, I have not offer'd 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 lie 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 she not 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, enabled me to preserve my Innocence; and when
all my Strength would have signified nothing, magnify'd himself in my Weakness!
 
I was so weak all Day on Monday, that I lay a-bed. My Master show'd 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 begun to be
fearful. He stopped short of the Bed, and said, Rather than give you
Apprehensions, I will come no further. 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? - Begg'd me to be compos'd; said I still look'd 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, said he, come near you all this Day, if
you'll promise to compose yourself. Then, Sir, said I, I will try. He pressed my
Hand very tenderly, and went out. What a Change does this show! - O may it be
lasting! But, alas! he seems only to have alter'd his Method of Proceeding, but
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. When I came, 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 overflow'd at the Remembrance, and I
turn'd 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 fetch'd her Smelling-bottle, and did all we could to restore you;
and my Passion for you was all swallow'd 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
fear'd 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 your Sex can show when they are in Earnest. But this I repeat to you,
that your Mind may be entirely comforted. - All I offer'd to you, (and that, I
am sure, was innocent) was before you fainted away.
    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 tho' 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 will 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 assure'd 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, altho' 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 mention'd. And as to the second, considering her vile unwomanly Wickedness,
and her Endeavours to instigate you more to ruin me, when your returning
Goodness seem'd to have some Compassion on me, it is still harder. But to show
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 pleas'd to
injoin, which I can do with Innocence.
    That's my good Girl, said he, and kiss'd me. This is quite prudent, and
shows 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 oblige'd to you
for all your Diligence and Fidelity to me; but Pamela, I must own, is not;
because the Service I employ'd you in was not so very obliging to her, as I
could have wish'd she would have thought it; and you was not to favour her, but
obey me. But yet I'll assure you, at the very first Word, she has once oblige'd
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, show 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 look'd 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 force'd to have done for that time.
    All this time my Papers that I had bury'd under the Rose-bush, lay there
still; and I begg'd 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, maybe, he may watch an Opportunity, and join Force with it,
on Occasion, when I am least prepare'd: 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 further 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, tho' 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 answer'd.
    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 thaw'd 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 deliver'd me from the Paw of the Lion and
the Bear; that is, his and Mrs. Jewkes's Violences; will also deliver me from
this Philistine, myself, and my own Infirmities, 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 begg'd and pray'd he would let me go:
And had I not appear'd quite regardless of all he said, and resolve'd not to
stay, if I could help it, I know not how far he would have proceeded: For I was
force'd to fall down upon my Knees.
    At last he walk'd 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 walk with you, Sir, said I,
any more. Do you know, said he, who 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 who you are, 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 love'd
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 to 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 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 offer'd you? - I was
bewitch'd I had not gone thro' my Purpose last Sunday Night; and then your
licentious Tongue had not given the worst Names to little puny Freedoms, that
show my Love and my Folly at the same time. But begone, 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 sooth me, and now threaten me; and
if I should forbear to show my Resentment, when you offer Incivilities to me,
would not that be to be lost by degrees? Would it not show 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 avow'd
my Ruin? - And have you once made me hope, you will quit your Purposes against
me? How then, Sir, can I act, but by showing 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 show 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 show 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 show 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 walk'd by the Side of
me some Yards, without saying a Word, and seem'd vex'd; 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 destin'd 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 din'd, he took a Turn into the Stables, to look at his Stud
of Horses; and, when he came in, he open'd 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, Sir, I'll assure you. No, said I, pretty well, Sir,
considering. None of your Considerings! said he, Pretty-face, and tapp'd me on
the Cheek. I blush'd, but was glad he was so good-humour'd; 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 us'd 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 love'd. 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 eat 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 learn me to eat heartily: So I did eat it; but was much
confused at his so kind and unusual Freedom and Condescension. And, good Sirs!
you can't imagine how Mrs. Jewkes look'd, and star'd, and how respectful she
seem'd to me, and call'd 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 curcheed,
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 call'd 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 utmost
of my Ambition; and, I hope, no Temptation shall make me otherwise.
    Notwithstanding I had no Reason to be pleas'd 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 thro' 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 dreadful Conflict, that my present Hopes, if I
am not to be deceive'd again, began to dawn, which I presume to flatter myself
with being an happy Omen for me, as if God Almighty would show your poor sinful
Daughter, how well I did, to put my Affiance in his Goodness, and not to throw
away myself, because my Ruin seem'd inevitable to my short-sighted Apprehension.
    So he was pleas'd 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 look'd 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 great deal of Wit, a great deal of Penetration, much beyond your
Years; and, as I thought, your Opportunities. You are possess'd 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 engage'd my Affections 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, tho' in saucy Terms enough, yet, in such a
manner, as makes me admire you more. Your pretty Chit-chat to Mrs. Jewkes, the
last Sunday Night, so innocent, and so full of beautiful Simplicity, half
disarmed my Resolutions before I approach'd your Bed. And I see you so watchful
over your Virtue, that tho' I hop'd to find it otherwise, I cannot but say, my
Passion for you is increas'd by it. But now what shall I say further, Pamela? -
I will make you, tho' a Party, my Adviser in this Matter; tho' not perhaps my
definitive Judge.
    You know I am not a very abandon'd 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 gratify'd
them, and not have shown that Remorse and Compassion for you, which have
repriev'd you more than once, when absolutely in my Power; and you are as
inviolate a Virgin as you was 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 decline'd several Proposals of that kind: How then, with the Distance
between us, and in the World's judgement, 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! - I cannot say what you ought to do: 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
engage'd without your Approbation. 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 own 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 of your Condition: And
this, good Sir, is the best Advice I can offer.
    Charming Creature, lovely Pamela, said he, (with an Ardor, 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 more explicitly, what you would advise me 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 concern'd 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 assure'd 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 Slope 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 show 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 the finest Lady 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 ingrateful; 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
your self! 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
say 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 marry'd to, or
that ever I thought of with such a Hope. I had brought my Mind so to love
Poverty, that I hop'd for nothing but to return to the best, tho' the poorest,
of Parents; and to employ myself in serving God, and comforting them; and you
know not, Sir, how you disappointed my 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 shows my Fondness for
you; have you not encourage'd 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 resolve'd, 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 disguis'd 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 convince'd that you are not
prepossess'd, my Vanity makes me assure'd, 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 tho' 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 avow'd Attempts. You had
show'd 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 escape'd 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 prevail'd 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 refuse'd me; and then it was he let me know,
that there was no honourable Way but Marriage. That I decline'd; 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 ruin'd, 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 pleas'd to call me.
    Well, said he, even in this your last Speech, which, let me tell you, shows
more your Honesty of Heart, than your Prudence, you have not overmuch pleas'd
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, reply'd 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 abash'd, lean'd upon his Shoulder, to
hide my Confusion.
    He clasp'd 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 experienc'd
in all the guilty Tumults that my desiring Soul put 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 overpower'd all my Reserves. I threw myself at his Feet,
and embrace'd 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 stopped 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 further on this Subject, I will take my proud Heart to Task; and,
till then, let every thing be, as if this Conversation had never pass'd. 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 in a more formal manner, if I may so say, than
before, and lent me his Hand, and so we walk'd towards 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 hush'd, 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 rapp'd at our Chamber-door this Morning soon after it was light: Mrs.
Jewkes ask'd 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; I clung
about her. Then, said I, let me slip on my clothes first. But he rapp'd again,
and she broke from me; and I was frighted out of my Wits, and folded myself in
the Bed-clothes. He enter'd, and said, What, Pamela, so fearful, after what
pass'd yesterday between us! O Sir, Sir, said I, I fear my Prayers have wanted
their wish'd 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 to Bed, 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 it 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 confine'd, than
for these three or four Days past) that no body sees her, nor delivers any
Letter to her in this Space; for a Person has been seen lurking about, and
inquiring after her; and I have been well inform'd, that either Mrs. Jervis, or
Mr. Longman, has wrote a Letter, with a Design of having it convey'd to her:
And, said he, you must know, Pamela, that I have order'd Mr. Longman to give up
his Accounts, and have dismiss'd 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, that 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 Bodies have suffer'd for my sake! -
Why, said he, I believe so too; and there never was a Girl of your Innocence,
that set a large Family in such 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, that 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 Mr. Peters's Niece, and one of Lady Darnford's Daughters; and Sir
Simon and his other Daughter go in his Chariot; so let all the Gates be
fasten'd, and don't take any Airing in either of the two 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 show 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 I
am gone.
    I durst not refuse, and said, God bless you, Sir, where-ever 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 dress'd; which looks
like what he said: But, really, I have had so many Tricks, and Plots, and
Surprizes, that I know not what to think. But I mourn for poor Mrs. Jervis. - So
here is Parson Williams; here is poor naughty John; here is good Mrs. Jervis,
and Mr. Jonathan, turn'd 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 by me,
have made so many of my good 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 fronted the Elms, and a
Gypsey-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; but she said, I don't like these sort of People; but we
will hear what she'll say to us. I shan't fetch you any Victuals; 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 lock'd, and she
of the Outside, and we on the Inside; and so put her Hand thro'. She said,
muttering over a Parcel of cramp Words: Why, Madam, you will marry soon, I can
tell you. At that she seem'd pleas'd, and said, I am glad to hear that, and
shook her fat Sides with laughing. The Woman look'd 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 employ'd 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 laugh'd
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, that I cannot see the Lines: But, said
she, and stoop'd, and pulled up a little Tuft of Grass, I have a Way for that;
and so rubb'd 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 look'd
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 marry'd, 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,
that she would be drown'd.
    This thing ran strongly in my Head; and we went an Hour after, to see if she
was lurking about, and Mr. Colbrand for our Guard; and looking thro' the Iron
Gate, he spy'd a Man sauntring about the middle of the Walk; which filled Mrs.
Jewkes with still more Suspicions. But 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 open'd the Iron Gate, and walked down towards the Man; and, guessing
the Woman, if employ'd, must mean something by the Tuft of Grass, I cast my Eye
that way, whence she pull'd it, and saw more Grass seemingly pull'd up: then I
doubted not something was there for me; so I walked to it, and standing over it,
said to Nan, That's a pretty Sort of a wild Flower that grows yonder, near that
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 stoop'd, and pull'd up a good Handful of the Grass, and
in it a Bit of Paper, which I put instantly in my Bosom, and dropped the Grass;
and my Heart went pit-a-pat at the odd Adventure. Said I, Let us go in, Mrs.
Ann. No, said she, we must stay till Mrs. Jewkes comes.
    I was all Impatience to read this Paper. And when Colbrand and she return'd,
I went in. Said she, Certainly there is some Reason for my Master's Caution; I
can make nothing of this sauntring Fellow; but, to be sure, there was some
Roguery in the Gypsey. 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 went up Stairs, and, hasting to my Closet, found the Billet to contain, in
a Hand that seem'd disguised, and bad Spelling, the following Words:
 
        »Twenty Contrivances have been thought of to let you know your Danger;
        but all have prov'd 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 determin'd 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 hir'd to
        personate a Minister. The Man has a broad Face, pitted much with the
        Small-pox, and is a very good Companion. So take care of yourself. Doubt
        not this Advice. Perhaps you'll have 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
too! - 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 not have 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 hop'd all the Worst was over;
and that I had the Pleasure of beholding a reclaimed Gentleman, and not an
abandon'd Libertine. What now must your poor Daughter do! Now all her Hopes are
dash'd! And if this fails him, then comes, to be sure, my forcible Disgrace! for
this shows he will never leave till he has ruin'd 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
damag'd by lying so long, Mrs. Jewkes came upon me by Surprise, and laid her
Hands upon it; for she had been looking thro' 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 punish'd.
 
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 discover'd 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 discover'd 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 deceive'd 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 own'd 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 uninclin'd 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 ruin'd. 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. My Concern for Mr. Williams's being
arrested, and 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 my
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 overhearing 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
seize'd: For, how badly I came off, and what follow'd, I still have safe, as I
hope, sew'd in my Under-coat, about my Hips. In vain were all my Prayers and
Tears to her, to get her not to show 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 but 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 coming 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
went down to the Parlour again. And what with the Gypsey 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 give them to me again. Whom, says he, are they written to? - To
my Father, Sir, said I; but I suppose you see to whom. - Indeed, return'd he, I
have not read three Lines as yet. Then pray, Sir, said I, don't read them; but
give them to me again. No, that I won't, said he, till I have read them. Sir,
said I, you serve'd me not well in the Letters I used to write formerly; I think
it was not worthy your Character to contrive to get them into 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 Gypsey's 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.
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 serious, 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 charm'd 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, tho' 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 last 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 penn'd 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; tho', 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, tho' 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 for you within me. And so went down Stairs.
 
About nine o'Clock he sent for me down in the Parlour. I went a little
fearfully; and he held the Papers 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, continue'd 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 it. 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, begun: 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 tho' 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? said he. 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, thro' John's
Baseness, and now these, thro' 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 shown me those,
had they been in your Possession?
    I was not aware of his 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, while the former Part can come,
that you will show 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, reply'd he. Why then,
Sir, said I, 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 show 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; tho' 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,
set us upon a Par, at least, in that respect. Sir, reply'd I, I could not have
taken these 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 Logick very prettily. What the Duce do we
Men go to School for? If our Wits were equal to Womens, we might spare much Time
and Pains in our Education. For Nature learns 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
sharpen'd 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 love'd you so well. But then, Sir,
reply'd I, 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,
spite of your romantick Notions, (which then too, perhaps, would not have had
such strong Place in your Mind) would 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, resum'd 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 begg'd 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 obey'd 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 Saving 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 may 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, answer'd
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, reply'd 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,
I'll assure you. 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 obey'd in this unreasonable Matter; tho' 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 show them to you; for you won't desire
to see every thing. But I will, reply'd he. - But say, Pamela, tell me Truth;
Are they above? I was more affrighted. He saw my Confusion. Tell me Truth, said
he. Why, Sir, answer'd 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 undrest a Girl in my Life; but I will now begin to strip my pretty Pamela;
and 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 ty'd 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 you. Will you, said he,
on your Honour, let me see them uncurtail'd, 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 serve'd 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 with-holds 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 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, unsew'd them
from it. And there is a vast Quantity of it. I will just slightly touch upon the
Subject; 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 Backdoor 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 to be tempted to throw myself
into the Water. My sad Reflections upon this Matter. How Mrs. Jewkes used me on
this Occasion, when she found me. How my Master had like to have been drown'd 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 marry'd to an 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 on seeing Preparations
made for my Master's coming. Their causless Fears, that I was trying to get away
again, when I had no Thought 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 of you, my dear Parents, to be his Mistress; with an Insinuation, that,
may-be, he would marry me at a Year's End. All sadly vile; with Threatnings, 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 to 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 carry'd to Church, to pray
for his reclaiming, and my Safety; which Mrs. Jewkes seize'd, and officiously
show'd 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 ake to think of
it still!) by falling into Fits. Mrs. Jewkes's detestable Part in this sad
Affair. How he seem'd mov'd at my Danger, and forbore his abominable Designs;
and assure'd me he had offer'd no Indecency. How ill I was for a Day or two
after; and how kind he seem'd. 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 kind and how good
he behave'd 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, tho' he had
used me so ill. How sadly jealous he was of Mr. Williams; and how I, as I justly
could, clear'd myself as to his Doubts on that Score. How, just when he had
raised me up to the highest Hope of his Goodness, he dash'd me sadly again, and
went off more coldly. My free Reflections upon this trying Occasion.
    This brought Matters down from Thursday the 20th Day of my Imprisonment, to
Wednesday the 41st.
    And there I was resolve'd to end, let what would come; for there is only
Thursday, Friday and Saturday, to give an Account of; and Thursday he set out to
a Ball at Stamford; and Friday was the Gypsey 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 tomorrow
Morning. To be sure I have always used him very freely in my Writings, and
show'd him no Mercy; but yet he must thank himself for it; for I have only writ
Truth; and I wish he had deserve'd a better Character at my hands, as well for
his own sake as mine - So, tho' 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 God bless you. Good Night.
 

                                Sunday Morning.

I Remember what he said, of not being obliged to ask again for my Papers; and
what I was forced to do, and could not help it, I thought I might as well do, in
such a manner as might show I would not disoblige on purpose. Tho' I stomach'd
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, tho' 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 'spy'd me, and said, Do you expect to be courted to come to me? Sir,
said I, and cross'd 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: Tho' 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
search'd, 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
scar'd, 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, I 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 diminish'd,
and have not strictly kept your Promise, woe be to you! Indeed, Sir, said I, I
have neither added nor diminish'd. But here is the Parcel, that goes on with my
sad Attempt to escape, and the terrible Consequences it had like to have been
follow'd with. And it goes down to the naughty Articles you sent me. And, as you
know all that has happen'd 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 abus'd as I am by such a saucy Slut. - Sir, said I, I
have wonder'd 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 not have an unkind 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 mov'd, it is a Sign of a very cruel and determin'd 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 open'd them. So much for your Omen, said
he. I am sorry for it, said I; and was walking away. Whither now, said he? Sir,
I was going in, 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
that 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 search'd.
    Sir, said I, I can't stay, if you won't forbear that ugly Word. - 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,
seal'd up, as the former, with this Superscription; From the naughty Articles,
down, thro' 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 I can neither write so free, nor with any
Face, what must be for your Perusal, and not for those I intended to divert with
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, added he, another thing to tell
you, 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 suffer'd 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 mention'd the Bricks
falling upon me, he got up, and walk'd to the Door, and look'd 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 would have had you.
    You may see, Sir, said I, what I venture'd rather than be ruin'd; and you
will be so good as hence to judge of the Sincerity of my Professions, that my
Honesty is dearer to me than my Life. Romantick Girl! said he, and read on.
    He was very serious at my Reflections, on what God enabled me to escape. And
when he came to my Reasonings, about throwing myself into the Water, he said,
Walk gently before; and seem'd so mov'd, that he turn'd away his Face from me;
and I bless'd 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 he said, taking me about the Waist, O my dear
Girl! you have touch'd 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 us'd 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, said he, of terrifying you to my Will, since I could not move you by
Love; and Mrs. Jewkes too well obey'd me, when the Terrors of your Return, after
your Disappointment, were so great, that you had hardly Courage to stand 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 rushing 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 alter 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
inflicted upon her.
    All this look'd well; but you shall see how strangely it was all turn'd. 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 despis'd, and thus answer'd? - 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 stampt with his Foot, and said,
Begone, I tell you. I cannot bear this stupid romantick Folly.
    One Word, said I; but one Word, I beseech you, Sir.
    He turn'd from me in great Wrath, and took down another Alley, and so I went
in 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 walk'd 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 wroth. He has order'd 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 unequal Condition would have of it, if even they
were to marry such an one! - His poor dear Mother spoil'd 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 us'd to be control'd, and cannot bear the least Thing that
crosses his violent Will. This is one of the Blessings of a high Condition! Much
good may do them with their Pride of Birth, and Pride of Fortune, say I! - All
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 me out of the House this Moment! Well, said I, but where am I
to be carry'd 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 House-keeper 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 ne'er 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 to, the grim Colbrand
going to get a Horse-back. 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 an 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. God send
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 mov'd by any thing in them to
alter his Resolution. But, if he shall 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 borrow'd: For all is over now, I find, with you.
    She saw me cry; and said, Do you repent? - Of what, said I? - Nay, I can't
tell, said she; but to be sure he has had a Taste of your satirical Flings, or
he would not be so angry. Oh! said 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, said 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 Curchee, 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, tho'
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 went by the Parlour, she stepped in, and said, Sir,
you have nothing to say to the Girl before she goes? I heard him say, tho' 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, said 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 open'd the Door
before I knew what I did; and I 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 turn'd 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 loth 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 ail'd 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 suffer'd 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 to the Chariot, the same that brought me down. So, Mr.
Robert, said I, here I am again! a pure 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, order'd me not to be wanting in Respects to you, I would
have shown 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
resign'd 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 Elmwalk, 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 turn'd 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, tho' Poverty be both your Lots, has had a
better Hap; and you are, and have always been, blessed in one another! - Yet this
pleases me too, he was so good, he would not let Mrs. Jewkes speak ill of me;
and scorn'd 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 Ale-house,
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 force'd to make hard Shift for his Horses. Mr.
Colbrand and Robert too are very civil. I see he has got my Portmanteau lash'd
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 begg'd me to eat something. I
thank'd 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 ask'd 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 order'd 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 arrive'd there. They both spoke so solemnly, that I cannot
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 Relations. --
May I not, said I, beg the Favour to see it tonight? He seem'd so loth to deny
me; that I have Hopes, I shall prevail on him by-and-by.
 
Well, my dear Father and Mother, I have, on great Promises of Secrecy, and
making no Use of it, got the Letter. 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 deliver'd 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 entertain'd 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 against me, at a Time that I was inclined
        to pass over all other Considerations, for an honourable Address too
        you; for well I found the Tables entirely turn'd upon me, and that I was
        in far more Danger from you than you was 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 Behalf, I fear'd I could not trust myself with
        my own Resolution. And this is the Reason, I frankly own, that I have
        determin'd 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, tho' you have
        spread such Mischiefs thro' 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 look'd 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 Twelve-month's Compliment, tho'
        but a mere Compliment, to my Ashes.
            Your Papers shall be faithfully return'd you, and I have paid so
        dear for my Curiosity in the Affection they have riveted upon me for
        you, that you would look upon yourself amply reveng'd, if you knew what
        they have cost me.
            I thought of writing but a few Lines; but I have run into Length. I
        will now try to recollect my scatter'd 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, tho'
        I can forgive you, I never can my Sister, nor my Domestics; for my
        Vengeance must be wreak'd 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
confess'd, and his rigorous Behaviour accounted for in such a Manner, as
tortures me much. And all this wicked Gypsey Story is, as it seems, a Forgery
upon us both, and has quite ruin'd me! For, Oh! 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 voluntier
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
begun; but creep, creep it has, like a Thief upon me; and before I knew what was
the Matter, it look'd like Love.
    I wish, since it is too late, and my Lot determin'd, that I had not had this
Letter; nor heard him take my Part to that vile Woman; for then I should have
bless'd myself, in having escape'd so happily his designing Arts upon my Virtue;
but now, my poor Mind is all topsy-turvy'd, 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 Twelve-month,
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 that Word! O why
was I not a Duchess, to show my Gratitude for it? but must labour under the
Weight of an Obligation, even had this Happiness befallen me, that would have
press'd 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 touch'd, is raise'd against 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 us'd
me so hardly! And when, likewise, thou hadst so well maintain'd thy Post against
the most violent and avowed, and therefore, as I thought, more dangerous
Attacks.
    After all, I must either not show 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 Relations of Mrs. Jewkes. 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 begg'd Pardon: And
she came, and begg'd Excuse again, very submissively, after Robin and Mr.
Colbrand had talk'd 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 retire'd, as if to read it; and so I
did; for I think I can't read it too often; tho', for my Peace of Mind 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 as 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 return'd with a Letter for me, and another, enclosed, for Mr.
Colbrand. This seem'd 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 (tho' 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 improv'd 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 quavers upon my Memory. And tho' 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 Excellency 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 prepossess'd 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 dispatch Monsieur Colbrand with a Letter to your Father,
        assuring him, that all will end happily; and 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
        answer'd, I shall have nothing to do, but to make you happy, and be so
        my self. 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 clear'd 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 me, 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 dialogu'd I with my Heart; and
yet all the time this Heart is Pamela.
    I open'd 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 deliver'd
        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 pleases 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
Gypsey 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 vow'd 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, and 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 am prepossess'd, 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! - Tho' hard will be my Lot, to
have my Credulity so justly blameable 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 desire'd
Letter to you, assuring you, that I had before me happier Prospects than ever I
yet had; and hoped all would end well. And that I begg'd you would send me, by
Mr. Thomas, my Master's Groom, the Bearer of it, 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
guess'd 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 wonder'd 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 in God, 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 Moonlight, if I should not be too much
fatigu'd; because there was no Place between that and the Town adjacent to his
Master's, fit to put up for the Night. But Monsieur Colbrand's Horse beginning
to give way, made a Doubt between them: Wherefore I said (hating to lie 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 fail'd, 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 had 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 reach'd the Gate; but every body was a-bed. But one of the
Helpers got the Keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and open'd the Gates; and the Horses
could hardly crawl into the Stables. 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 show'd 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 lay towards the Garden, on the other Side the House. Mrs. Jewkes
said, He had a feverish Complaint, and had been blooded; and, very prudently,
order'd Abraham, when he awake, 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. Yet I did not think I could have liv'd 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 order'd him to draw near him, and was infinitely 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 lie 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 pay me a
Visit; if she won't, I'll rise, and go to her. Indeed, Sir, said she, you must
lie 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 enter'd the
Room. Yes, Sir, said she; 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 concern'd 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 ill. - I
can't be ill, said he, while you are with me. I am 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 begg'd me to sit down by his Bed-side, and asked me, If I had obliged him
with sending for my former Pacquet? 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 desire'd my Company; and seem'd quite pleas'd, 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 the Chariot, or in the
Garden, or to the Town, or where-ever she will, she must 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 have 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, tho' 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 incurr'd your Displeasure, and 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; and 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 love'd, and who really was a very good Girl;
        and of this you may be asham'd. 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
        first 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 Gentleman as
        you are in your Person; so happy in the Gifts of your Mind, that every
        body courts your Company; and possess'd 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 100 l. 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 Gentlefolks, that brag of their ancient Blood,
would be glad to have it as wholsome, 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 Qualities in Life? - But, on the
contrary, may make their Condemnations the greater, as their neglected
Opportunities were the greater? Poor Souls! how I pity their Pride! - O keep me,
gracious God! 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, tho' 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 other's Dunghils? - 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 occur'd 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 Mesage 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 shown 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 may
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 Night-gown. 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 tho' ordinary, I am as clean as a Penny, tho' 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 recover'd! - 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 seem'd going to speak. What would you say? -
Sir, said I, (a little asham'd) 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 will 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-ear'd Cap, you shall go just as you are. But, Sir, said I, then you'll be
pleased to go a By-way, that it mayn't be seen you do so much Honour to your
Servant. O my good Girl, said he, I doubt you are afraid of yourself being
talk'd 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 begg'd 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 order'd 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, thro' 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 3000 l.
more than her Share came to by my Father's Will, when I enter'd 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 this
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 Publick as a Man; and
the World sees not your Excellencies and Perfections: If it did, I should
entirely stand acquitted by the severest Censurers. 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 outdo 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 transcending 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 Jokes on this Subject, with my Companions of the Chace, the Green,
and the Assemblée; 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 common Servants; and the Ladies will fly
your Acquaintance; and still, tho' 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 thro', 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 hugg'd 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 to encounter with yourself, 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 play'd 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 any 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 Oeconomy, as may not be beneath the Rank to which I
shall have the Favour 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 receive and pay
Visits, if your Goodness will allow me so to do, to the sick Poor in the
Neighbourhood around you; and administer to their Wants and Necessities, in such
small Matters, as may not be hurtful to your Estate, but comfortable to them;
and intail 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 Chace, or where-ever 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 the sweetest Part of my Time, with your agreeable Conversation,
for an Hour or two now-and-then; and be indulgent to the impertinent
Over-flowings of my grateful Heart, for all your Goodness to me.
    The Breakfasting-time, the Preparation 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-humour'd 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
indulge in; but this I am not fond of, and shall never desire to use them, but
as it may encourage such Ladies, as you may wish to see, not to abandon your
House for want of an Amusement they are used to.
    Musick, which my 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 tho' all the
latter will be employ'd in the Family Accounts, between the Servants and me, and
me and your good Self; yet Reading is a Pleasure to me, that I shall be
unwilling to give up, at proper times, 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 set 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; 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 aton'd 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 unhallow'd 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 show'd 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; tho' you, unkindly,
by your unseasonable Doubts, nipp'd 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, tho' 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 Out-cast from your House and
Favour, and as much repudiated, as if the Law had divorced me from you!
    But, Sir, continued I, tho' I was so unseasonable as I was in the Garden,
you would, I flatter myself, had you then heard me, have pardon'd my Imprudence,
and own'd 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 of 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 tho' I could part with you, while my Anger held,
yet the Regard I had then newly profess'd 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, that you would return, (tho' 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 chas'd 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 suffer'd more than
I could have imagined, till I experienced it, in being banish'd your Presence in
so much Anger; and the more still was I affected, when you answer'd so
generously, the wicked Mrs. Jewkes in my Favour, at my leaving your House: For
this, Sir, awaken'd 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
tortur'd 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 secure'd 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.
    Mean-time, 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 show 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 Gypsey Letter; but I said, before I show'd it
to him, I have this Letter, Sir, to show 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 disguis'd 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, disguis'd as the Hand is, I know the Writer: Don't
you see by the Settness 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 overwhelm'd with your
Goodness) to defend any body that you are angry with; yet, Sir, so far as they
have incurr'd 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 receive'd this? On the Friday, Sir, said I, that you was
gone to the Wedding at Stamford. - How could it be convey'd to you, said he,
unknown to Mrs. Jewkes, when I gave her such a strict Charge to attend you, and
you yourself promise'd me, 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 desire'd 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
Gypsey, 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 engage'd, 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 Conviction with it.
    You must know then, my Pamela, that I had actually form'd such a Project, so
well inform'd was this old rascally Somebody; and the Time was fix'd, for the
very Person describe'd 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 hop'd 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 undeceiv'd; so that we might have liv'd
for Years, perhaps, very lovingly together; and I had, at the same time been at
Liberty to confirm or abrogate it, as I pleas'd.
    O Sir, said I, I am out of Breath with the Thoughts of my Danger. But what
good Angel prevented this deep-laid Design to be executed?
    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 consider'd your untainted Virtue, what Dangers and
Trials you had undergone, by my Means, and what a world of Troubles I had
involv'd you in, only because you were beautiful and virtuous, which had excited
all my Passion for you; and reflected also upon your try'd Prudence and Truth,
I, tho' I doubted not effecting this my last Plot, resolve'd 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'd how much I had exclaim'd against and censur'd 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
mark'd out for me; and, as I was assure'd, with no great Satisfaction to himself,
when he came to reflect; my foolish Pride was a little piqu'd with this, because
I love'd to be, if I was 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 consider'd of the Matter, and would not have him
come, till he heard farther from me: And, in this Suspense, I suppose, some of
your Confederates, Pamela, (for we have been a Couple of Plotters, tho' your
Virtue and Merit have engage'd 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 inspir'd me with Resolutions to abandon the
Project just as it was to be put in Execution. But yet I own, that, from these
Appearances, you was but too well justify'd in your Fears, on this odd way of
coming at this Intelligence; and I have only one thing to blame you for, that
tho' I was resolve'd not to hear you in your own Defence, yet, as you have so
ready a Talent at your Pen, you might have clear'd 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, I 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 alarm'd by, and concern'd for, Preposession
for some other Person. And this would have save'd 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 Chearfulness with which I obey'd your Recalling me to your Presence.
    Ay, that my dear Pamela, said he, and clasp'd me in his Arms, was the kind,
the inexpressibly kind Action that has riveted my Affections to you, and gives
me to pour out, in this free and unreserv'd manner, my whole Soul in 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 honour'd 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 voluntier Love, in the
Person I would wish for my Wife, that I would have even Prudence and Interest,
hardly nam'd, in Comparison with it. And can you return me sincerely the honest
Compliment I now make you, that as in the Act that I hope shall soon unite us
together, it is impossible that I should have any View to my Interest; and, that
Love, true Love, is the only Motive by which I am directed; that, were I not
what I am, you could give me the Preference to any other Person in the World
that you know, notwithstanding all that has pass'd between us? Why, said I,
should your so much obligated Pamela refuse to answer this kind Question? Cruel,
as I have thought you, and dangerous your Views to my Honesty; You, Sir, are the
only Person living that ever was more than indifferent to me; and before I knew
this was what I blush now to call it, I could not hate you, or wish you ill,
tho' from my Soul, the Attempts you made, were shocking and most distasteful to
me.
    I am satisfy'd, my Pamela, said he; nor do I want to see those Papers that
you have kindly written for to your Father; tho' I still wish to see them too,
for the sake of the sweet manner in which you write your Sentiments; and to have
before me the whole Series of your Sufferings, that I may know whether all my
future Kindness is able to recompense you for them.
 
In this manner, my dear Father and Mother, did your happy Daughter find herself
bless'd by her generous Master! An ample Recompence for all her Sufferings, did
I think this sweet Conversation only. A hundred tender Things he express'd
besides, that tho' they never can escape my Memory, yet would be too tedious to
write down. O how I bless'd 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 blessed 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, thro' 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 enraptur'd 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 pass'd between us, in this pleasing Turn, my Pamela will see, and will
believe, that the Trials to her Virtue are all over from me: But perhaps, there
will be some few yet to come to 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 as 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 would be glad you will not refuse coming down to
us, if I desire it; for I would preface our Nuptials, said the dear Gentleman! O
what a sweet Word was that! - with the good Opinion of these Gentry 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 dispos'd to admire you.
    Sir, said I, after all that has pass'd, 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, weigh'd down with the 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 oblige'd to you, Pamela, said he; and pray be only dress'd as you are;
for, as 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 pleas'd it should be so,
because they will perceive you owe nothing to Dress, and make a much better
Figure with your own native Stock of Loveliness, than the greatest Ladies do in
the most splendid Attire, and stuck out 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 at me with your favourable Eyes: But, nevertheless, I should be best
pleas'd 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 show 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 raise'd 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 as they
are the Effect of my Master's Goodness, and am 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 oblige'd: 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 compar'd,
on the other, to the Creator; and so, with due Deference, may be said to be
God-like, 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 and well, and cheerful; and that makes me hope he does not repent
him of his Goodness. He handed me out of the Chariot, and to the Parlour, with
the same Goodness, that he show'd when he put me in 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 you! - No,
but the better Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you have much oblige'd 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 open'd her Lips about you. We have had quite a
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 call'd 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 force'd 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 myself, 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 Prejudice, 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, tho' we shall be acted very differently as
to the Effects, yet as these Effects proceed from one Cause, it shall be always
reverenced by me.
    See there, Mrs. Jewkes, said my Master, we are both in generous Hands; and
indeed, if she 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 should so
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
thro' the dangerous Paths I have trod, to this happy Moment.
 
My Master was pleas'd to say, that he thought I might as well dine with him, as
he was alone. But, I said, I begg'd he would excuse me, for fear so much 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 had 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 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
carry'd away my Fear and my Shame-facedness, as that does all before it, on the
Surface of the Waters!
    He clasp'd me in his Arms, with Transport, and condescendingly kneel'd by
me, and kissing me, said, O my dear obliging good Girl, on my Knee, 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 lie 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, compar'd to you!
And how far, very far, do you, in every generous Way, leave me behind you!
    He raise'd me, and as I bent towards the Door, led me to the Stairs Foot, and
saluting me there again, I went up to my Closet, and threw myself on my Knees in
Raptures of Joy, and bless'd that gracious God, who had thus chang'd my Distress
to Happiness, and so abundantly rewarded me for all the Sufferings I had pass'd
thro'. - And Oh! how light, how very light, do all those Sufferings now appear,
which then my repining Mind made so formidable 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 in
God, are strong, tho' my judgement in general may be weak and unformed; 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 wrote 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 came 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, as 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 Paper at his coming up) and so he saluted me, bid me Good-night,
and went down; and I finish'd down to this Place before I went to-bed. Mrs.
Jewkes told me, if it was more agreeable to me, she would lie in another Room;
but I said, No thank you, Mrs. Jewkes; pray let me have your Company. And she
made me a fine Curchee, and thank'd me. - How Times are alter'd!
 

                                   Thursday.

This Morning my Master came up to me, and talk'd with me on various Subjects for
a good while together in the most kind manner. Among other Things, he ask'd 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 repeating my Request, for the Reasons afore-given, 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 glow'd between Shame and Delight. O how I felt my Cheeks
burn!
    I said I fear'd 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 in 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 shows, I ought to oblige you all I may. Therefore, I will order my
own little Chapel, which has not been us'd for two Generations, for any thing
but a Lumber-room, because our Family seldom resided here long together, to be
clear'd and clean'd, 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 lumber'd 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 many 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 look'd
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 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 to 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? - Yes, 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 show 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 pleas'd to let me write over again one Sheet, I
will, tho' I had rely'd upon your Word, and not wrote them for your Perusal.
What is that, said he? tho' 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 loth you should see, are
very severe Reflections on the Letter I receive'd by the Gypsey, when I
apprehended your Design of the Sham-marriage; tho' 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, reply'd I, since you order it.
 
While we were talking, Mrs. Jewkes came up, and said Thomas was return'd. O,
said my Master, let him bring up the Papers. For he hop'd, 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 force'd 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 turn'd 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 conferr'd
together upon your Letter, Madam, came out, weeping bitterly, that grieve'd my
very Heart; and they said, Now all was over with their poor Daughter; and either
she had wrote that Letter by Compulsion, or had yielded to your Honour, so they
said, and was, or would be ruin'd!
    My Master seem'd vex'd, as I fear'd. And I said, Pray, Sir, be so good to
excuse the Fears of my honest Parents! They cannot know your Goodness to me.
    And so, (said he, without answering me,) they refuse'd to deliver the Papers?
Yes, and please your Honour, said Thomas, tho' I told them, that you, Madam, of
your own Accord, on a Letter I had brought you, very cheerfully wrote what I
carry'd. 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 contend with, that 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, 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 has been so long contending with? And
then, and please your Honour, he said, he could not bear this; for his Daughter
was ruin'd, to be sure, before now. And so, said he, the good old Couple sat
themselves down, and Hand-in-hand, leaning upon each other's Shoulder, did
nothing but lament. - I was, said he, piteously grieve'd; but all I could say
could not comfort them; nor would they give me the Papers; tho' 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 bath'd 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 the 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 wip'd my Eyes; and
said to Thomas, The good old Folks are not to be blam'd in the main. They don't
know my honourable Intentions by their dear Daughter: Who, Tom, will, in a
little Time, be your Mistress; tho' 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 fear'd 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 to-morrow to dine with me; and I have order'd
Mrs. Jewkes to prepare for them. And must I, Sir, said I, be shown to them? O
yes, said he, that's the chief Reason of their coming. And you'll see no body
equal to yourself; don't be concern'd.
 
I open'd 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 Gypsey Affair, and my Reflections, in which I call'd
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 force'd 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 escape'd, and the Troubles I had undergone. And how I
unseasonably, in the midst of his Goodness, express'd my Desire of being sent to
you, having the Intelligence of a Sham-marriage, from the Gypsey, in my
Thoughts. How this inrag'd 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 Acknowledgments 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 force'd 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 showing 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 carry'd Matters down to Tuesday Night last.
    All that follow'd was so kind of 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 farther; for I was a little asham'd to be so very open on that
tender and most grateful Subject; tho' his great Goodness to me deserves all the
Acknowledgments I can possibly make.
    And when I had look'd 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 that 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 seal'd 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 seem'd much pleas'd 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 promise'd for my Intentions in this Letter. - O what Halcyon Days are
these? God continue them! - A Change now, would kill me quite.
    He went out in his Chariot in the Afternoon; and in the Evening return'd,
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, said he, how does my dear Girl do now? - Who 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 show it you next
Opportunity - And I stepped out of my Chariot, to walk cross this Meadow, and bid
Robin meet me with it on the further Part of it. And who 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 to 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 jump'd 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 stammer'd 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, reply'd 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 believe'd
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 ask'd 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 walk'd. He
said, he was very sorry he had incurr'd 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
Sun-beams of a dangerous Affluence, and cannot think of confining ourselves to
the common Paths, tho' 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 wish'd 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, as your Function might allow you, upon
it; but immediately determin'd to counterplot me, and to turn as much an
Intriguer for a Parson, as I was for a Laick, and attempt to secure to yourself
a Prize, you would have robb'd me of, and that from my own House. But the Matter
is at an End, and I retain not any Malice upon it, tho' you did not know, but I
should, 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 Mrs. 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 Encouragement to his Address as to Matrimony.
    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, as I had, discover'd the Parson, it 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 therefore, I had no Prospect
before me but Dishonour; and was so hardly us'd into the Bargain, I should have
seem'd very little in Earnest in my Professions of Honesty, if I had not
endeavour'd to get away: But yet I resolve'd not to think of Marriage; for I
never saw the Man I could love, till your Goodness embolden'd 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; tho' at the same time, Justice calls upon me to own,
that it is, all Things consider'd, 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 dar'd not to say so. I hope in Time he will be re-instated in his
good Graces.
    He was so good as to tell me, he had given Orders for the Chapel to be
clear'd. 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 concern'd I was not dress'd
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 walk'd two or three Turns, and stepped himself to me. Come, my
Pamela, said he, the Ladies can't be satisfy'd without seeing you, and I desire
you'll come. I said, I was asham'd; but I would obey him. Said he, The two young
Ladies are dress'd 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 there? 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 or two 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 pleas'd to tell me? He said, 'spying me first, Look there, Ladies, comes
my pretty Rustick! - They all, I saw, which dash'd 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
plac'd me in, which made me shine out in their Eyes beyond my Deserts. He said
the young Ladies blush'd, and envy'd me.
    When I came near, he saw me dash'd and confuse'd and was so good to meet me,
Give me your Hand, said he, my good Girl, you walk too fast (for indeed I wanted
to be out of their gazing). I did so, with a Curchee, 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 hop'd to be better acquainted with me:
and Lady Darnford was pleas'd 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 kiss'd the loveliest Maiden in England. But
for all this, methought I ow'd him a Grudge for a Tell-tale, tho' all had turn'd
out so happily. Mr. Peters very gravely follow'd 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 pleas'd.
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 gaz'd 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 Rustick? - 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 confuse'd, 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 be thankful for the
Honour you are all pleas'd to do me.
    Mrs. Jewkes came in with the Canary, brought by Nan, to the Alcove, and some
Cake 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 serve'd 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 the 'Squire by that Name, for fear it should become a Fashion
for all our Ladies to do the like thro' 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 polish'd and improv'd by the Honour of such
an Example as yours.
    They all were very good and affable, and the young Lady Darnford, who had
wish'd to see me in this Dress, said, I beg your Pardon, dear Miss, as she
call'd me; but I had heard how sweetly this Garb became you, and was told the
History of it; and I begg'd it as a Favour that you might oblige us with your
Appearance in it. I am much oblige'd 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: Tho' 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 shall have to the kindest of Gentlemen,
when I can delight to show the humble Degree from which his Goodness has raise'd
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; saying,
It is a Reflection, Madam, upon all the Ladies, if you don't do as they do. 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 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 my good Ladies, then, will forgive me,
Sir, said I, I had rather be excused. They all said, I must not be excused. I
begg'd I might. Your Reason for it, my dear Pamela? said my Master: as the
Ladies request it, I wish you would oblige them. Sir, reply'd 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 whisper'd 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 pleas'd to say, her Distinction.
Ay, said 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 seem'd to lessen the Disgrace of his stooping so much beneath him.
    Lady Darnford said, We will not oppress you; tho' we could almost blame your
too punctilious Exactness; but if we excuse Mrs. Andrews at 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, reply'd 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, 'Squire, 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 pleas'd, they would take a Turn about the Garden
with me. I answer'd I would very gladly attend them; and so we three, and Lady
Jones's Sister-in-law, and Mr. Peters's Niece, walk'd together. They were very
affable, kind and obliging; and we soon enter'd 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 should
fain have had my Master make his Addresses to her; but tho' Sir Simon is
reckon'd rich, she was not thought a 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 pity'd her - Indeed I did! - I wish all young Persons of my Sex
could be as happy as I am likely 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 magnify'd 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 seem'd
quite pleas'd and rejoic'd. God bless him, for his Goodness to me!
    Dinner not being ready, the young Ladies propos'd a Tune upon the Spinnet. I
said, I believe'd 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; tho' 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 had learn'd me, and us'd to be pleas'd 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
pleas'd 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 spar'd no Pains nor Cost
to improve me. She said, she wish'd the 'Squire could be prevail'd 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; tho' 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 the Solemnity that I have: For
indeed, tho' I am in such an enviable Prospect of Happiness, 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 would'st 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 vye
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 Surprise'd? - 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 dash'd to see all those
strange Ladies and Gentlemen; and now to see Mr. Williams before them, as some
of them refuse'd his Application for me, when I wanted to get away, it will a
little shock me, to see them smile, in recollecting what has pass'd of that
kind. Well, said he, guard your Heart against Surprizes, tho' you shall see,
when you come down, a Man that I can allow you to love dearly; tho' hardly
preferably to me.
    This surprizes me much. I am afraid he begins to be jealous of me. What will
become of me, (for he look'd very seriously) if any Turn should happen now! - My
Heart akes! 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 suffer'd 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 Surprizes, tho' I should see, when I came
down, a Man he can allow me to love dearly, tho' hardly better than he, has
quite alarm'd 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 cannot 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 Surprizes. I never was
so Surprise'd in my Life; and never could see a Man I love'd 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 enjoin 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 God 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 Connection, will make one uniform Relation of it.
    It seems then, that my dear Father and you were so uneasy to know the Truth
of the Story that Thomas had told you, and fearing I was betrayed, and quite
undone, that 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, that he brought in his
Pocket, at an Alehouse there, and got shav'd; and so, after he had eat 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 browbeaten. 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 made out what he fear'd.
    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 ask'd for
the Housekeeper; tho' from what I had wrote, in his Heart, he could not abide
her. She sent for him in, little thinking who he was, and ask'd 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 seem'd 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 Surprise'd, 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 alarm'd 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 wrote you a Letter to
assure you, that she has Reason to be well satisfied and happy.
    Ah! Sir, 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 alter'd; for now the
sweet Girl has taken me Prisoner; and, in a few Days, I shall put on the
pleasantest 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. Mean time, 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 tortur'd 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 let me know yet, that my Father was come, and
went to the Company, and said, I have been agreeably Surprise'd. 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, begg'd 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 amus'd me about Mr. Williams, to half prepare me for some
Surprise; tho' 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's 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, that we never saw
before to Day; but cannot enough admire her.
    Said my Master, This Gentleman, Goodman Andrews, is the Minister of the
Parish; but is not young enough for Mr. Williams. This cutting Joke, 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 vertuous,
'tis all in all: For all the rest is Accident. But, I doubt, his Honour has been
too much upon the Joke with me. No, said Mrs. Peters, we are all Witness 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 open'd 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, we long'd
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 wonder'd 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; tho' my Face was that way too, and the Table before me.
    Said my Master, Did you send your Letter away to the Post-house, 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, gush'd out into a Flood of Tears, which he, good
Soul! had been struggling with, it seems; and cry'd out, O my dear Child!
    I knew the Voice, and lifting up my Eyes, and seeing my Father, gave a
Spring, overturn'd 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, seem'd concern'd. - I fear'd, said he, that the Surprise would be
too much for her Spirits; and all the Ladies run to me, and made me drink a
Glass of Water; and I found myself incircled 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 honour'd Mother? and half a dozen Questions more, before he could
answer one.
    They permitted me to retire, with my Father; and then I pour'd forth all my
Vows, and Thanksgivings to God for this additional Blessing; and confirm'd all
my Master's Goodness to his scarce-believing Amazement. And we kneeled together,
blessing God, and blessing one another, for several ecstatick Minutes; and my
Master coming in soon after, my dear Father said, O Sir, what a Change is this!
May God reward you! may God bless you 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 before hand.
    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, said he, you make this
House your own; and the longer you stay, the more welcome you'll be. After you
have a little compos'd yourself, my dear Girl, step in to us again. I am glad to
see you so well so soon. 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, said he, my dear Child! - O,
said I, several happy Days! - I have wrote 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 Goodness of God! How will your poor dear Mother be able to support
these happy Tidings? I will set out to-morrow, to acquaint her with it. For I am
but half happy till the dear good Woman shares it 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 to me, 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 Miss? I rejoice to see you
well! Pray let us have your Company. And, said she, taking my Father's Hand, and
yours too, good Mr. Andrews.
    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 broke 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 so surprised, and put out of myself, before such
good Company. They said, All was very excusable; and they were glad I suffer'd
no more by it. They were so kind, as to excuse me at Cards, and play'd by
themselves; and I went, by my Master's Command, and sat on the other Side, in
the happiest Place I ever was blessed 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 in his Eyes, blessing God, 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, to 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
jok'd with my Master, and said, 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 conformable as I.
    My Master was very urgent with them to stay Supper; and, at last, they
comply'd, on Condition that I would grace the Table, as they were pleased to
call it. I begg'd to be excuse'd. My Master said, Don't be excuse'd, 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 hope 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 plac'd 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 genteely 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 seem'd to please both Sisters; for had the youngest Miss been put there, it
might have piqu'd her, as matters had been formerly, to be placed below me;
whereas Miss Darnford giving Place to her younger 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 hedg'd 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 carv'd it in a Trice, and helped the Ladies. Miss
Darnford said, I would give something to be so dexterous a Carver. O Miss, 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, happen'd to be a little out in Carving, I'll send up for my
Pamela, to show 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 begg'd he
would permit me, at least, to come before we left these Parts. And they said, We
hope, when the happy Knot is ty'd, you will induce the 'Squire 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 ask'd my Father, if he smoak'd; he
said, No. He made us both sit down by him; and he 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 the 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
Master. What says my Pamela? said my Master. She does not use to be at a Loss
for Expression. 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
Temptation, and was not to be aw'd 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 of your Side, and,
blessed be God! so much Prudence of 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 he touch'd the Bell, and called for Mrs. Jewkes. Where, said he,
does Mr. Andrews lie to-night? 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 retire'd. 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 dreamt of
nothing but Jacob's Ladder, and Angels ascending and descending, to bless him,
and his Daughter.
 

                                   Saturday.

I Rose up 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 join'd 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
thro'; 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 spar'd me. Sir, said I - He interrupting
me, said, Well, I forgive you. You had too much Reason for it. But I find, plain
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 on 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 God's
Grace, and 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 an hundred times, with
Admiration, what a prodigious Memory, and easy and happy Manner of Narration
this excellent Girl has! And tho' 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 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 carry'd her Orders a little too far. And I the more
take Notice of it, because you have not complain'd to me of her Behaviour, as
she might have expected for some Parts of it. Tho' a good deal was occasion'd 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 God has brought about my Happiness by the very Means that I
thought then my great Grievance; I ought to bless those Means, and forgive all
that was disagreeable to me at the time, for the great Good that has issued from
it. - That, said he, and kissed me, is sweetly consider'd! and it shall be my
Part to make you Amends for what you have suffer'd, 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 love to hear this honest Heart of yours
speaking at your Lips. I injoin you, Pamela, to continue your Relation, as you
have Opportunity; and tho' 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 dear 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 pleas'd to commend it; and said,
That I had very charitably turn'd the last Verses, which, in the Original, was
full of heavy Curses, to a Wish, that show'd I was not of an implacable
Disposition; tho' 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 excuse'd himself; but my Master would have it so.
But he was much ashamed, because he was not in a Dress for my Master's Company.
    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 own'd 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, said my good Master, may it not be perform'd on Tuesday, and
then your Father, may-be, will stay? - I should have been glad to have had it
to-morrow, added he; but I have sent Monsieur Colbrand for a Licence, that you
may have no Scruple unanswer'd; 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'll be pleased to indulge me with 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 Jephtha'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 Aukwardness at the Entrance of 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 dress'd 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
bestow'd upon me) and so put on fine Linen, silk Shoes, and fine white Cotton
Stockens, a fine quilted Coat, a delicate green mantua silk Gown and Coat; a
French Necklace, and a lac'd Head, and 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 thank God, 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 her 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 ty'd. 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,
reply'd 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 Miss Darnford's, 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 Stile, Madam, said she. It must not be
Master, now, sure! - O, return'd I, that 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 Fore-side; 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 that we came home; my Father having
no Opportunity to tell me of it.
    He was pleased to tell me of the Chapel being got in tolerable Order; and
said, it look'd very well; and against he came down next, it should be all new
white-wash'd, and painted, and lin'd; 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 Miss Darnford's, and Lady Jones, would dine with him on Sunday; And with
their Servants and mine, said he, we shall make a tolerable little Congregation.
And, added he, have I not well contrive'd, to show you, that the Chapel is really
a little House of God, and has been consecrated, before we solemnize our
Nuptials in it? - O, Sir, reply'd I, your Goodness to me is inexpressible! Mr.
Peters, said he, offer'd 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 perform'd 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 stopped, 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 further End. He, poor Man, chose to go 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 astonish'd, 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 contrive'd; for Mr.
Peters had been, as I since find, desire'd 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 confuse
you. Then I said, Mr. Williams, I am very glad to see you well; and tho' 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 oblige'd 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, that I should have
had Reason to thank you, if, above all her Sex, I loved one Person, and you had
robbed me of her, and marry'd her yourself? - And then, said he, you are to
consider, that she was of long Acquaintance with me, 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 on that Score; much less could you be excuse'd, to
invade a Property so very dear to me, and to endeavour to gain an Interest in
her Affections, tho' 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 preferr'd, with
her, any Condition that could have befallen me, had I consider'd 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 was too much pre-engaged, to think of any body else. And
give me Leave further to say, Sir, That tho' 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 do for her, 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, said
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 show 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 show 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 imbib'd from
him.
    Mr. Williams said, taking my Father's Hand, You see, good Mr. Andrews, with
inexpressible Pleasure, 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 bow'd, 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 tho' I have been
telling him, I think not myself obliged to his Intentions; yet I will own, that
Pamela and you are; and tho' 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 the like; 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 she becomes
yours; for you will then have a Treasure that Princes might envy.
    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 confused; 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, tho' 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 aton'd 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 reap'd 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 aton'd 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. I thank
his dear Daughter 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
Gentleman, 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
were 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 Hands 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, unask'd, 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 thro' 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, satisfy'd 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 of 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 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, and easy, and frank manner; and I found I needed
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 fancy'd I was reserve'd, mov'd me to
be free with him, and to him, and several times called upon me to help my Father
and Mr. Williams; and seem'd to take great Delight in seeing me carve and help
round, 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 finish'd, as he designs it, against his next coming
down, will be a very pretty Place.
    My Heart, my dear Mother, when I first sat my Foot in it, throbb'd a good
deal, with awful Joy, at the Thoughts of the Solemnity, which, I hope, will be,
in a few Days, 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 stepped into a Corner, out of Sight, and poured out my
Soul to God, on my Knees, in Thankfulness and Supplication, that, after having
been so long absent from Divine Service, the first time that I enter'd 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 it, 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 know 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. Tho', if
you expect a Discourse, I am wholly unprepar'd for the Occasion. I would not
have it, reply'd 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 not 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 my 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 have
always 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 match'd to a Man of Sense and Generosity! - How edifying! -
How! -- But what shall I say! - I am at a 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, cancell'd. 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 defray'd by my Attorney: I order'd 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, answer'd he, I thank you. My Time will be so well
employ'd all the way in thinking of your Favours, that I choose to meditate upon
them, as I walk home.
    My dear Father was very uneasy about his Habit, for appearing at Chapel next
Day, because of Miss Darnfords, and the Servants, for fear, poor Man, he should
disgrace my Master; and he told me, when he was mentioning this, 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 never can deserve the hundredth Part of his
Goodness! - It is almost a hard thing to lie under the Weight of such deep
Obligations on one side; and such a Sense of one's own Unworthiness of 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 much thinner than I am, nor much shorter; he and
I will walk up together to my Wardrobe; tho' it is not so well stor'd here, as
in Bedfordshire.
    And so, said he, pleasantly, Don't you pretend to come near us, till I call
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 are told. So am not I, said my
Master: Pray come along with me.
    He carry'd him up Stairs, and show'd 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 fixing 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 to-morrow Morning.
Mr. Andrews brought only with him his common Apparel, not thinking to stay
Sunday with us. And pray see for some of my Stockens; and whether none 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 God's Goodness, and your Virtue.
 

                                    Sunday.

This blessed Day all the Family seem'd 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 Miss Darnfords, in their own; with
each a Footman, besides the Coachman. And we breakfasted together, in a most
agreeable manner. My dear Father appeared quite spruce and neat, and was greatly
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 know he
had learnt Psalmody formerly, in his Youth, and had constantly practised it in
private, at home, of Sunday Evenings, (as well as endeavour'd 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 perform'd 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 perform'd his Part with great Applause, making the Responses
as if he had been a practised Parish Clerk; and giving the2 xxiiid Psalm, which
consisting 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 thro' it
distinctly, calmly, and fervently at the same time; so that Lady Jones whisper'd
me, That good Men 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 shorter 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 Blessing 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, he
judiciously keeping to Generals; and it was an elegant and sensible Discourse,
as my Master said.
    My Father was, as in the Clerk's Place, just under the Desk; and Lady Jones
beckon'd her Footman, and whisper'd him to beg 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 cxviith3.
    My Master thanked Mr. Williams for his excellent Discourse, and so did the
Ladies; as also I did, most heartily; and he was pleased to take my dear Father
by the Hand, as Mr. Williams also did, and thanked him. The Ladies also made him
their kind 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 tho', that
I dressed myself in a flower'd Satten, that was my Lady's, and look'd 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 own Version,
before these good Ladies go away. My Father smile'd, but was half concern'd 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 should be
loth to desire to hear any thing that would concern me; 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, return'd 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; I believe I put it in my Pocket on purpose.
    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, answer'd
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, reply'd 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 decline'd 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 turn'd 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 watched round about;
And thought of every 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
well observe'd, that I had need to be less concerned than themselves.
    I knew, said my Master, I should get no Credit by showing 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 Pris'ner 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 turn'd. It
is this:
 

                                      IV.

Alas! said we, who can once frame
His heavy Heart to sing
The Praises of our loving God,
Thus under a strange King?
 
Why, said my Master, it is turn'd with beautiful Simplicity, thus:
 

                                      IV.

Alas! said I, how can I frame
My heavy Heart to sing,
Or tune my Mind, while thus inthrall'd
By such a wicked Thing!
 
Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, O dear, Madam, can you wish
that we should be depriv'd 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 prais'd, but those who are not us'd 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
who you make the Sons of Edom, and how you turn the Psalmist's Execrations
against the insulting Babylonians.
    Well, Mr. Williams, reply'd 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 tho' thus oppress'd, 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 raise'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! Tho' 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 spar'd! 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 that Man be call'd,
That takes thy little ones,
And dasheth them in pieces small
Against the very Stones.
 
Thus, said he, very kindly, has my Pamela turn'd 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
borrow'd 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 his 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 of 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 sufficing 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 we 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 seem'd 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 of 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
Licence, 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 delay'd 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
delay'd 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, ask'd me if I would have it in
the first or the second Seven. I answer'd, - for how could I do otherwise? In
the second: He desire'd 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.
    Miss Darnfords 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, answer'd 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 return'd 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 the Ladies could prevail upon my Master for, was
a Dancing-match before he left this Country; 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 begg'd 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 order'd
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,
as that Horse will serve you, Mr. Andrews, to ride backwards and forwards, to
see us when we go to 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 desire'd, 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, thro' the Sense of his
Favours and Goodness.
    You may believe, my dear Mother, how loth 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 overflow'd, that I could
hardly wish to detain him.
    Mrs. Jewkes brought two Bottles of Cherry-brandy, and two Bottles of
Cinamon-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 marry'd; 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
should 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 more loth 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 begg'd 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 concern'd 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 an equivalent Degree, 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, God bless you both! Good-night! And send my Father a safe
Journey, and a happy Meeting to you both!
 

                                    Monday.

M. Colbrand being return'd, my Master came up to me to my Closet, and brought me
the Licence. O how my Heart flutter'd 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 tho' 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 mention'd Fourteen 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 he 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 today! -
Cannot! said he. - No, indeed, Sir! said I. - And was ready to sink to see his
generous Impatience! Why flatter'd you then, my fond Heart, said 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 of a Thursday: Of a Thursday my dear Father and Mother were marry'd, and tho'
poor, they are a very happy Pair. - Of a Thursday your poor Pamela was born: Of
a Thursday my dear good Lady took me from my Parents into her Protection: Of a
Thursday, Sir, you caus'd me to be carry'd away to this Place, to which I now,
by God's Goodness and your Favour, owe so amazingly all my present Prospects;
and of a Thursday it was, you nam'd 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 marry'd on the
Thursday following. Of a Monday, so many Years ago, my Mother was preparing all
her Matters, to be brought to-bed on the Thursday following. Of a Monday,
several Weeks ago, it was that you had but two Days more to stay, till you was
carry'd away on Thursday. On a Monday, I myself, said he, well remember, it was,
that I wrote you the Letter, that prevail'd 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 Æra as any you have nam'd: And now, lastly, will you
say, which will crown the Work; And, on a Monday I was marry'd. - Come, come, my
Dear, added he, Thursday has reign'd 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 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, reply'd he, the most material;
for all we have to say may be talk'd of while the Parson is coming! - O but
indeed, and indeed, said I, it cannot be today! - Well then, shall it be
to-morrow? said he. - Why, Sir, if it must not be of 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, answer'd I, if you please; for that will be,
as you injoin'd, 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, return'd 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 look'd 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 recall'd, tho' 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, tho', 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 justify'd; for
he deserves all things of me, in my poor Power.
    After this, he rode out on Horse-back, 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 should show a thorough
Reconciliation of his Part: But, said he, most generously, I am apprehensive on
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: For, as to what he may think, I can't answer; but as to
any Reason for his Thoughts, I could. But 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 ask'd,
If any thing new had occur'd? Yes, said he; I have had a Letter deliver'd 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 provok'd, added he, that after I had read it, I tore it into a
hundred Pieces, and scatter'd 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 talk'd 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 concern'd at this: And he said, Had I an 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 suffer'd so much from that of her Brother; and we are too
nearly ally'd 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 indispensable 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 showing 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, return'd 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 if you were a Princess by Descent.
    You are inexpressibly good, Sir, said I; but I am far from taking a gentle
Disposition, to show 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 where-ever I go, and
whatever I do. But now, I am on so laudable a Pursuit, that I value them not,
nor their Employers. I have already order'd my Servants to communicate with
nobody for ten or twelve Days to come. And Mrs. Jewkes tells me, every one names
Thursday come Sev'night 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
want nobody else; 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, answer'd 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 us'd to do, I will keep close up, so as not to disgust her
with my Sight. 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 show you how a Man that acts
generally 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 return'd from you, my dear Father, with the good News of your
Health, and continuing your Journey to my dear Mother, where I hope to hear soon
you are arrive'd. My Master has just now been making me play upon the Spinnet,
and singing to it; and was pleas'd 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 return'd from an Airing in the Chariot; and I have been delighted
with his Conversation upon English Authors, Poets particularly. He entertain'd
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 purpos'd 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 are
settled; for I have a great many things to adjust; and I must go to London: For
I have Accounts that have run 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 Things that were not in his own Choice.
    He was pleas'd to say, I make no doubt 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; tho' 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, where longest, is a poor transitory Stage; and I hope
we shall be so happy as to be enabled to look forward, with Comfort, to one
other, 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. Tho' I charge you, never forbear to
mingle your sweet Divinity in our Conversation, whenever it can be brought in
à-propos, and with such a Chearfulness of Temper, as shall not throw a gloomy
Cloud over our innocent Enjoyments.
    I was abash'd 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
discourag'd 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 help'd him
to; and my Heart is, every Hour, more and more inlarg'd 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, thro' real Evils, to
this hopeful Situation.
    I only fear, and, sure, 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 I am most unworthily 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 escape'd; 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 Ship 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 pass'd in
Conversation with my excellent Benefactor; nor with the Civilities of Mr.
Colbrand, Mrs. Jewkes, and all the Servants, who seem to be highly pleas'd 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 Goodwill. 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 a good Servant shall in me find a kind Encourager; an indifferent one
be made better, by inspiring them with a laudable Emulation; and a bad one, if
not too bad in Nature, and quite irreclaimable, reform'd 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 perform'd. My Heart cannot yet shake off this heavy Weight.
Sure I am ingrateful to God's 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
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 he
generously pities and comforts me! I begg'd to be excuse'd Supper; but he brought
me down himself from my Closet; and plac'd me by him, bidding Abraham not wait.
I could not eat, and yet I try'd, 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
concern'd 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 asham'd 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 reach'd a Chair, and sat
down by me, and put his kind Arms about me, and said the most generous and
affecting Things that ever dropped 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
cannot sleep.
    This sweet Confusion and Thoughtfulness in my beloved Pamela, said the kind
Man, on the near Prospect of our happy Union, when I hope all Doubts are clear'd
up, and nothing of Dishonour is apprehended, show 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 refuge herself 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 show to yours; and that I have, all the Day long, suppress'd
even the least Intimation of the coming Day, 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 in his Arms! expect not Reason from a foolish
Creature! You should have still indulg'd 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 suffer'd me to stay by myself above,
I should have made myself asham'd of so culpable a Behaviour! - But Goodness
added to Goodness every Moment, and the Sense of my own Unworthiness, quite
confound me!
    Now, said the generous Man, will I, tho' 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 that will not then be, you shall say but the
Word, and I'll submit. Yes, tho' I have, my Pamela, for 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 now been
so long us'd to it from you. This is a most generous Instance of it; but, I fear
- yes, I fear, it will be but 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 asham'd of myself, with all
these lovely Prospects before me! - The Honours you do me, the Kindness you show
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 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 strengthen'd 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 return'd. 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, return'd
I, your Goodness has made them quite happy. But I can't help being concern'd
about Lady Davers.
    He said, I am vex'd I did not hear the Footman out; because it runs in my
Head, he talk'd somewhat about her coming hither. She will meet with but an
indifferent Reception from me, without she comes resolve'd to behave better than
she writes.
    Pray, Sir, said I, be pleas'd to bear with my good Lady, for two Reasons.
What are they, said he? Why first, Sir, answer'd I, Because she is your Sister,
and, to be sure, may very well think, what all the World will, that you have
much demean'd 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 use 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 t'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 gain'd: And, if she gives me Reason, I'll try for
it, I assure you.
    Well, but my dear Girl, continue'd 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 talk'd as harshly to my Heart, as Lady Davers can do, and the
naughty Thing suggests to me a better and more grateful Behaviour.
    He smile'd, and kissing me, said, I took Notice, Pamela, of what you
observe'd, that you have none of your own Sex with you: I think it is a little
hard upon you; and I should have lik'd you should have had Miss Darnford; but
then her Sister must have been ask'd; and I might as well make a public
Wedding; which, you know, would have require'd 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 piqu'd; tho', 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 discourag'd 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
owe you, 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 pleasureable 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 acknowledge'd 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 God himself requires of us; for where there is a Will, the Actions must be
govern'd by it, or it cannot be called a Will: But no more of these little
Doubts, tho' they are the natural Impulses of a generous and grateful Heart. I
want not to be employ'd in Settlements: That is for those 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 experienc'd Truth, a well-try'd 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 a
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 offer'd 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 Lady
Darnfords. 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, answer'd 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 show 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 wonder'd that we are dress'd. And the two Parsons
have promise'd Secrecy, and will go home. I believe you can't well avoid letting
one of the Maids into the Secret; but that I leave to you.
    Sir, reply'd 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 Out-houses, 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 was
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, continue'd she, her Ladyship proposes
to be here time enough to hinder your Nuptials; which she, as well as we did,
takes 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 obey'd his Honour, to be forgiven by
you. Indeed, Mrs. Jewkes, return'd 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 be both 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, reply'd
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, answer'd I, there can be but one Reason given; and that
is, that I am a sad Fool! - But, indeed, I am not ingrateful 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 with me, with infinite 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, tho' 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 further than my Ears.
    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, poor 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 Dutchess! - And here he must stand the Shocks of common Reflection; The
great 'Squire B. has done finely! he has marry'd 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 Hands! I can only do the best I can;
and pray to God to reward him, and to 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 Chearfulness.
 

                        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
so soon to be, (be curbed in, my proud Heart, know thyself, and be conscious of
thy Unworthiness! -) has just left me, with the kindest, tenderest Expressions,
and gentlest Behaviour that ever blessed 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 dress'd!
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, continue'd 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 Doubts and Difficulties; let a
generous Confidence in me take place; and let me see it does, by your
Chearfulness, 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 sooth 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 confuse poor bashful
Maidens, on such an Occasion, when they are surrender'd 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 involv'd 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 shows 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 tost by the boisterous Winds of a more culpable Passion, I have
now conquer'd it, and am not so much the Victim of your Love, all charming as
you are, as of your Virtue; and therefore I 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 display'd, by the augmented Opportunities which the
Condition you are now entering into, will afford you. - O the dear charming Man!
how nobly, and 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 dear 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, may 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 alarm'd 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 writ thus far. I
might have mention'd, that I dress'd myself in a rich white Sattin Night-gown,
that had been my good Lady's, and my best Head-cloths, 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! lie 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, tho', 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 spoke 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 you; 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 showed Mr. Peters
my little Chapel. Will you, Pamela, after Breakfast, walk with us to it? If --
if, said I, and had like to have stammer'd, 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 recover'd your Fright yet: How came your Foot to
slip? 'Tis well you did not hurt yourself. Said Mr. Peters, improving the Hint,
You han't sprain'd your Ankle, 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, tho' 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 set more by it,
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 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 may want it; but I hope not.
    She gave me very good Words; and begg'd 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, tho'; so I must hold by you. Do you know, said I, 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 order'd 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, whisper'd 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 judgement; 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 blush'd, and said, softly, None, Sir, but
my great Unworthiness.
    Then follow'd 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 answer'd,
audibly, to this Question, I will. But I could only make a Curchee, when they
asked me; tho', I am sure, my Heart was readier than my Speech, and answer'd 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
Curchee, 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 overwhelm'd with his Goodness,
and the tender Grace wherewith he perform'd 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 Delight.
    The joining of our Hands afterwards, the Declaration of our being marry'd to
the few Witnesses present; for, reckoning Nan, whose Curiosity would not let her
stay at the Door, they 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, marry'd; and to who? - 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 behave'd
sadly. No, Madam, said she, pretty well, pretty well! While the Gentlemen were
talking, I dropped down on my Knees in a Corner, and once more blessed God for
this so signal a Mercy; and Mr. Peters afterwards walked out with me; and Mr.
Williams and my Master talked together, and came out after us.
    Mr. Peters, when we came into the Parlour, said, I once more, Madam, must
wish you Joy of 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 join'd. I told him, I was infinitely oblige'd 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 compos'd, I hope! - Well, you see this is not so
dreadful an Affair as you apprehended. Sir, said Mr. Peters, very kindly, 'tis a
very solemn Circumstance, and I love to see it so reverently and awfully enter'd
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
Breakfastings. 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 cheer'd 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 receive'd it very kindly. And to Mr. Williams he said, My old
Acquaintance, I have reserve'd for you, against a Variety of Sollicitations, the
Living I always design'd 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
50 l.
    So did this generous good Gentleman bless us all, and me in particular; for
whose sake he was as bounteous as if he had marry'd 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, blessing God, and blessing
him for his Goodness, and he overwhelm'd 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 vex'd 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 wish'd 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 travel round the Country, and
beat up their Friends Quarters all the Way; and 'tis 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
seem'd to be, as I looked out of the Window, setting up a Hunting-note, as soon
as they came to the Gate, that made the Courtyard 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 refuged
myself 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 Apprehensions
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 Epithet, came up to me; and said, Well, I just came 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 order'd 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, as 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 ask'd 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 the Station of our good Master 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, reply'd 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 eat a bit of Apple-pie, and a
little Custard; but I had no Appetite to any thing else.
    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
Snow-ball, 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
loth to sit down, but my Lady would have me! - She is very right, Mrs. Jewkes,
said my Master, and tapp'd me on the Cheek; for we are not yet half marry'd; 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, marry'd 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.
    And so Abraham coming to tell him, the Gentlemen were going, and his Chariot
was ready; Thank God, said he; and went to them, and sat 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, Oh! 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 Style, 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 return'd, and alighted there. What, my Pamela! (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 down-cast
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 Sollicitude which appears in the charmingest 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 oppress'd 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 judgement, to make you no
Compliment, are more than equal to mine: You have all the Graces that Education
can give a Woman; improv'd by a Genius which makes those Graces natural to you.
You have a Sweetness of Temper, and a noble Sincerity, beyond all Compare; 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; for if you will set
the Riches of your Mind, and your unblemished Virtue, 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 insnared by the high Condition to which your Goodness has
exalted me, you make me hope, that I shall be confirm'd and improv'd 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 caution'd 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, show 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 enter'd the House, Mrs. Jewkes having left
us as soon as my Master alighted.
 

                            Eight o'Clock at Night.

Now these sweet Assurances, my dear Father and Mother, you will say, must be
very Consolatory to me, and voluntierly on his Side, all that could be wish'd
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 thro' the sweet
tender Struggles of your over-nice Modesty, how much I owe to your Desire 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 tho' 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, thro' 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 behave'd 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 retire'd 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 he saluting me very fervently, 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 my 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 thro' 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 tho' 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 allow'd himself in Attempts, that now I will endeavour to
forget for ever, should have behave'd 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 embolden'd 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 will I, 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 ow'd Money in the World; and he gave me Fifty
Guineas, and bid me send them to you in my Pacquet, 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, continue'd 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 will 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 show the World, that I value you as I
ought, and as if I had marry'd 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 can I think of any thing, but returned 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 seem'd 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 mention'd 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 once my own 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; tho' 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 marry'd, she will keep away, if she is not willing to be
reconcil'd; for she dare not, surely, come to quarrel with me, when she knows it
is done; for that would have an 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,
sweet Gentleman; And, in short, is studious to show, on every Occasion, his
generous Affection to me. And, after Dinner, he told me, he had already wrote 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 observe'd any
Part of my Conduct such as he would have alter'd, and could not entirely
approve, that 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 answer'd 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. Said he, We will come down hither again before the
Winter, 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, my Company in 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 Sollicitation 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. Oh! how good this was! - But, indeed, his Conduct is all
of a Piece, noble, kind, and considerate! What a happy Creature, by God's
Goodness, am I! - And then, may-be, said he, they will excuse us till we return
into this County 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, reply'd 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 show 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 satisfy'd!
    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
over-pays 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 cannot 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, 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; tho' they
have given their Tongues no little Licence about me; but I could have forgiven
them, because I desire every body to love you; and it is with Pride that I
observe the Opinion and Love of them, and 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
serve'd me, against you; and, I think, when he would have betray'd 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 Gypsey 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 one single Wish more has your grateful Pamela.
My Heart is overwhelm'd 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 Thought 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 Delight to prevent her
Wishes, and to study 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 Pacquet, 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 am 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 arise from my new Condition, and the Favours that
are hourly heaped upon me by the best of Husbands. When I had got my Pacquet for
you finish'd, 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, I hardly have yet the Courage to call him freely by a
tenderer 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
        marry'd 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 past, and reinstate you all in 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, God willing, 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 show'd 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 marry'd 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 Gentlemen,
        shall be exerted to make every thing easy and agreeable to you; and as I
        shall soon have the Honour of attending my beloved Spouse to
        Bedfordshire, it will be a very considerable Addition to my Delights,
        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 this kind, except that
to my dear Father and Mother, I think I ought to show it you unsign'd, 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
Surname; 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 Pacquet 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 the
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 seem'd
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 show'd
him 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 further than 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 receive'd at the Hands of thy gracious
Providence! Then shall I not be useless in my Generation! - Then shall I not
stand a single Mark of God's Goodness to a poor worthless Creature, that in
herself is of so poor Account in the Scale of Beings, a mere Cypher on the wrong
Side of a Figure; but shall be placed on the right Side; and, tho' nothing worth
in myself, shall give Signification by my Place, and multiply the Blessings I
owe to God's Goodness, who has distinguish'd 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 Opportunity 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 Circle:
We have heaped up Treasures for those who came after us, tho' we know not
whether they will 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 Reflection, on the being
able to administer Comfort and Relief to those who stand in need of it, as
infinitely rewards the beneficent Mind. And how often have I experienced this in
my good Lady's time; tho' 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 Reports I have made of a particular
Distress, has augmented my good Lady's first Intentions in its Relief!
    This I recall, with Pleasure, because it is now, by God's 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 the 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 believe'd 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 return'd home to Dinner, in Compliment to me, tho' much press'd 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 to-morrow
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 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 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 renew'd
his kind Assurances to me, and, if possible, is kinder than ever. This is
sweetly comfortable to me; because it shows 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 begg'd 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 answer'd, I shall then, perhaps,
have you do less Good than you would otherwise do, from a Doubt of me; tho', 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
stock'd, 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 their's for both their
Lives, without paying any Rent; and I will allow them 50 l. per Annum besides,
that they may keep up the Stock, and be kind to any other of your 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, either I have not Words, or else the English Tongue affords
them not, to express sufficiently my Gratitude. Learn me, dear Sir, continued I,
and pressed his dear Hands to my Lips, learn me some other Language, if there be
any, that abounds with more grateful Terms, that I may not thus be choaked with
Meanings, for which I can find no adequate 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 overwhelm'd with his
Goodness!
    Well, said he, my Dearest, let me desire you to mention this to them, and
see if they approve it. But if it be your Choice, and theirs, to have them
nearer to you, or even under the Roof with you, I will freely consent to it.
    O no, Sir, said I (and I fear almost sinn'd 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, 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 inumerable Benefits!
    Excellent Creature! said he, my Beloved wants no Language, nor Sentiment
neither! and her charming Thoughts, so sweetly express'd, 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, signify it 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, tho' 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 bless'd me with a
very good Estate, and all of it in a prosperous Condition, and 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 the 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 blessed 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 Tranquility,
Serenity, and pleasing Vivacity in the Temper and Behaviour of my beloved
Spouse; who thereby shows he does not repent of his Goodness to me.
    I attended him to Breakfast, and drank my Chocolate with great Pleasure, and
eat two Bits of Toast; 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, gave an ingrateful 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 lie upon either
of our Minds that shall occasion the least Reservedness.
    I have often observed, in marry'd 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 shows 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; tho' 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 dress'd 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 whoever I bring home with me to my Table, you will 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 seem'd to think it the Privilege of Birth and Fortune,
to turn Day into Night, and Night into Day, and are seldom stirring till 'tis
time to sit down to Dinner; and so all the good old Family Rules are revers'd;
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 any thing but these, my Dear, continued he, I
expect you to be a Lady. And my good Mother was one of this old-fashion'd Cut,
tho', 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 hinder'd 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 lie
half an Hour after me, or so.
    Then you'll have some time at your own Dispose, 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 old-fashion'd Rules, as near as we can, we shall make
our Visitors conform to them too, and expect them from us, and suit themselves
accordingly: For I have always observe'd, 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 Byass. He is a regular Piece of
Clockwork, will they joke, and all that: And why, my Dear, should we not be so?
For Man is as frail a Piece of Machinery, as any Clockwork whatever; and, by
Irregularity, is as subject to be disorder'd.
    Then, my Dear, continued the charming Man, when they see they are received,
at my 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 Benefit of this Regularity. And
who knows, my Dear, but we may revive the good old Fashion in our Neighbourhood,
by this means? - At least, it will be doing our own 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 we
were broke in upon, so unwelcomly, last Thursday, are got out of the Way, if
that can ever be, and fall to considering whom 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 tho' I will not be so set, as to quarrel if
they are not always exactly comply'd 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 no more of your sweet Injunctions to
honour me with? They oblige and improve me at the same time! - What a happy Lot
is mine! - God Almighty reward your Goodness to me!
    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 Sweetness of
Temper, and that open Chearfulness of Countenance which adorns you, when nothing
has given my Fairest Apprehensions for her Virtue: A Sweetness, and a
Chearfulness, 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 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, observe'd, have been too much indulged by my good Mother,
have an Example from you, as well as a Pleasure in you which will hardly ever be
palled.
    One thing, continued he, I have frequently observed, at the Houses of other
Gentlemen, That when we have unexpectedly visited, or broke in upon the Family
Order, laid down by their Ladies; and especially if any of us have lain under
the Suspicion of having occasionally seduced our marry'd Companion into bad
Hours, or given indifferent Examples, the poor Gentleman has been oddly affected
at our coming; tho' 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 have been accused,
as has always shown 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
reserve'd, stiff and formal; and has behave'd 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 marry'd Life; for a Man may not (tho', in the main, he is
willing to flatter himself, that he is Master of his House, and will assert
himself upon great Occasions, when his Prerogative 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 vanquish'd 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 Out-lines; 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 show
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 not. But be facetious, kind,
obliging to all; and if to any 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
happen'd 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 suffer'd it to spread all over the Company, and it was a
pretty large one too; and not a Person in it, but turn'd 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
turn'd 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 sollicitous, methought, to keep the good Lady in
Countenance for her Anger, that I broke his Head in Revenge, and stabb'd 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; for when my Hand was in, I might as
reasonably have killed the other three.
    I was exceedingly diverted with these facetious Hints, and the pleasant
manner in which he gave them; and I promise'd to improve by the excellent Lessons
contain'd in them.
    I then went up and dressed myself, as like a Bride as I could, in my best
clothes, and, on Enquiry, finding 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 licens'd to intrude upon you, without your Commands? - No, my Dear,
said he, because you cannot intrude. I am so wholly yours, that where-ever 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, obey'd your first kind Injunction, as to dressing
myself before Dinner; but, may-be, you are busy, Sir? He put up the Paper he was
reading, and said, I can have no Business or Pleasure of equal Value to your
Company, my Dear. What was 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 spar'd 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 be most affecting to us.
    Now, my Dear, said he, be so kind 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
is 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
an excellent Example you have given me of the Lessons you teach me. For here,
Sir, you are most charmingly dress'd yourself, as you have commanded me, before
Dinner.
    Then, Sir, when you command 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 dear Wedding day, the coming of Sir Charles Hargrave, and
the other two Gentlemen, (for which you was quite unprovided, and hinder'd 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 Non-observance 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 fall back in your Goodness, tho' 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 Waste 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
passing 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, tho' 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! 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 look'd 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, thinks I, you would spare
these Compliments; for I shall have some Joke, I doubt, passed upon 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,
'Squire 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 whisper'd 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, if I may judge by your easy Deportment now, to what it was when I last saw
you, I hope you will let my Sister, if you won't me, see the happy Knot ty'd!
For she is quite wild about it. - I curcheed, and only said, You are all very
good to me, Ladies. - Mr. Peters's Niece said, Well, Miss, 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, reply'd 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, answer'd 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 Curchee, offer first to me, saying, Will
your Ladyship begin? I colour'd like Scarlet, and said, No; - my Master, to be
sure!
    But they all took the Hint; and Miss Darnford said, I'll be hang'd if they
have not stole a Wedding. Said Mrs. Peters, It must be certainly so! Ah! Mr.
Peters.
    I'll assure you, said he, I have not marry'd 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 marry'd 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 pleas'd; let me give you Joy, dear Madam, if it be so. And so they all
said, and saluted me round. - I was vexed it was before Mrs. Jewkes; for she
shook her fat Sides, and seem'd highly pleas'd 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 a 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 offer'd me, the
Upper-end of the Table; and perform'd 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 rid out to see a sick Gentleman about eighteen Miles off,
who begg'd (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 oblige'd to tarry all Night
from you; but, lest you should be alarm'd, 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. Tho' 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; tho' 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 further, 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 ask'd if I will have her for a Bedfellow in
want of a better? I said, I thank'd her; but I would see how it was to lie by
myself one Night.
    I might have mention'd, that I made Mrs. Jewkes dine and sup with me, and
she was much pleas'd 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, I must 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 us'd 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 shows, 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 nurtur'd by my good Lady, if I
should forget, with all these Mercies heap'd upon me, what belongs to the
Station God has preferr'd me to! - Oh 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 receive'd a Letter from him, which he wrote Over-night,
as I find by it, and sent early the next Morning. This is a Copy of it.
 

                               »To Mrs. Andrews.

                                                                   Monday Night.
        My dearest Pamela,
            I Hope my not coming home this Night will not frighten you. You may
        believe I can't help it. My poor Friend is so very ill, that I doubt he
        can't recover. His Desires to have me stay with him are so strong, that
        I shall sit up all Night with him, as it is now near One o'Clock in the
        Morning; for he can't bear me out of his Sight: And I have made him and
        his distress'd Wife and Children so easy, in the kindest Assurances I
        could give him, of my Consideration for him and them, that I am look'd
        upon (as the poor disconsolate Widow, as she, I doubt, will soon be,
        tells me) as their good Angel. I could have wish'd we had not engage'd to
        the good Neighbourhood at Sir Simon's for to-morrow Night; but I am so
        desirous to set out on Wednesday for the other House, that, as well as
        in Return for the Civilities of so many good Friends, who will be there
        on Purpose, I would not put it off. What I beg of you, therefore, my
        Dear, is, that you would go in the Chariot to Sir Simon's, the sooner in
        the Day the better, because you will be diverted with the Company, who
        all so much admire you; and I hope to join you there by your Tea-time in
        the Afternoon, which will be better than going home, and returning with
        you, as it will be six Miles Difference to me; and I know the good
        Company will excuse my Dress, on the Occasion. I count every Hour of
        this little Absence for a Day; for I am, with the utmost Sincerity,
My dearest Love,
                                                            For ever Yours, etc.
        If you could go to dine with them, it will be a Freedom that would be
        very pleasing to them, and the more, as they don't expect it.«
 
I began to have a little Concern, lest his Fatigue should be too great, and for
the poor sick Gentleman and Family; but told Mrs. Jewkes, that the least
Intimation of his Choice should be a Command to me, and so I would go to Dinner
there; and order'd the Chariot to be got ready to carry me: when a Messenger
came up, just as I was dress'd, to tell her, she must come down immediately. I
see at the Window, that Visitors are come; for there is a Chariot and six
Horses, the Company gone out of it, and three Footmen on Horseback; and I think
the Chariot has Coronets. Who can it be, I wonder? - But here I will stop, for I
suppose I shall soon know.
 
Good-sirs! how unlucky this is! What shall I do? - Here is Lady Davers come; her
ownself! And my kind Protector a great, great many Miles off. - Mrs. Jewkes out
of Breath comes and tells me this, and says she is inquiring for my Master and
me. She ask'd her, it seems, naughty Lady as she is, if I was whor'd yet!
There's a Word for a Lady's Mouth! - Mrs. Jewkes says, she knew not what to
answer. And my Lady said, She is not marry'd, I hope? And, said she, I said, No;
because you have not own'd it yet publicly. My Lady said, That was well enough.
Said I, I will run away, Mrs. Jewkes; and let the Chariot go to the Bottom of
the Elm-walk, and I will steal out of the Door unperceiv'd. - But, said she, she
is inquiring for you, Madam, and I said you was within, but going out; and she
said, she would see you presently, as soon as she could have Patience. What did
she call me, said I? The Creature, Madam: I will see the Creature, said she, as
soon as I can have Patience. Ay, but, said I, the Creature won't let her, if she
can help it.
    Pray, Mrs. Jewkes favour my Escape for this once, for I am sadly frighted. -
Said she, I'll bid the Chariot go down as you order, and wait till you come; and
I'll step down, and shut the Hall-door, that you may pass down unobserv'd; for
she sits cooling herself in the Parlour over-against the Stair-case. That's a
good Mrs. Jewkes! said I: But who has she with her? Her Woman, said she, and her
Nephew; but he is on Horseback, and is gone into the Stables; and they have
three Footmen. - And I wish, said I, they were all three hundred Miles off! -
What shall I do! - So I wrote thus far, and wait impatiently to hear the Coast
is clear. -
 
Mrs. Jewkes tells me, I must come down, or she will come up. What does she call
me now? said I. Wench, Madam. Bid the Wench come down to me. And her Nephew, and
her Woman are with her.
    Said I, I can't go, and that's enough! - You might contrive it that I might
get out, if you would. -- Indeed, Madam, said she, I cannot; for I went to shut
the Door, and she bid me let it stand open; and there she sits over-against the
Stair-case. Then, said I, I'll get out of the Window, I think! - (and fann'd
myself) for I am sadly frighted. Laud, Madam, said she, I wonder you so much
disturb yourself! - You're on the right Side the Hedge, I'm sure; and I would
not be so discompos'd for any body. Ay, said I, but who can help Constitution? I
dare say you would no more be so discompos'd, than I can help it. - Said she,
Indeed, Madam, if it was to me, I would put on an Air as Mistress of the House,
as you are, and go and salute her Ladyship, and bid her welcome. Ay, ay, reply'd
I, fine Talking! - But how unlucky this is, your good Master is not at home!
    What Answer shall I give her, said she, to her desiring to see you? - Tell
her, said I, I am sick a-bed; I'm dying, and must not be disturb'd; I'm gone
out, - or any thing!
    But her Woman came up to me, just as I had utter'd this, and said, How do
you do, Mrs. Pamela? My Lady desires to speak with you. So I must go. - Sure she
won't beat me! - Oh that my dear Protector was at home!
 
Well, now I will tell you all that happen'd in this frightful Interview. - And
very bad it was.
 
I went down, dress'd as I was, and my Gloves on, and my Fan in my Hand, to be
just ready to get into the Chariot, when I could get away; and I thought all my
trembling Fits had been over now; but I was mistaken, for I trembled sadly. Yet
resolve'd to put on as good an Air as I could.
    So I went to the Parlour, and said, making a very low Curchee, Your Servant,
my good Lady! And your Servant again, said she, my Lady; for I think you are
dress'd out like one.
    A charming Girl tho', said her rakish Nephew, and swore a great Oath; dear
Aunt, forgive me, but I must kiss her, and was coming to me. And I said,
Forbear, uncivil Gentleman! I won't be us'd freely. Jackey, said my Lady, sit
down, and don't touch the Creature! - She's proud enough already. There's a
great Difference in her Air, I'll assure you, since I saw her last.
    Well, Child, said she, sneeringly, how dost find thyself? - Thou'rt mightily
come on of late! - I hear strange Reports about thee! - Thou'rt almost got into
Fool's Paradise, I doubt! - And wilt find thyself terribly mistaken in a little
while, if thou thinkest my Brother will disgrace his Family to humour thy Baby-
    I see, said I, sadly vex'd, (her Woman and Nephew smiling by) your Ladyship
has no very important Commands for me, and I beg Leave to withdraw. Beck, said
she, to her Woman, shut the Door; my young Lady and I must not have done so
soon.
    Where's your well-manner'd Deceiver gone, Child? says she. - Said I, When
your Ladyship is pleas'd to speak intelligibly, I shall know how to answer.
    Well, but my dear Child, said she in Drollery, don't be too pert neither, I
beseech thee. Thou wilt not find thy Master's Sister half so ready to take thy
Freedoms, as thy mannerly Master is! - So, a little of that Modesty and Humility
that my Mother's Waiting-maid used to show, will become thee better than the
Airs thou givest thyself, since my Mother's Son has taught thee to forget
thyself.
    I would beg, said I, one Favour of your Ladyship, that if you would have me
keep my Distance, you will not forget your own Degree. - Why, suppose, Miss
Pert, I should forget my Degree, wouldst thou not keep thy Distance then?
    If you, Madam, said I, lessen the Distance yourself, you will descend to my
Level, and make an Equality, which I don't presume to think of; for I can't
descend lower than I am, - at least in your Ladyship's Esteem!
    Did I not tell you, Jackey, said she, that I should have a Wit to talk to? -
He, who swears like a Gentleman, at every Word, rapt out an Oath, and said,
drolling, I think, Mrs. Pamela, if I may be so bold as to say so, you should
know you are speaking to Lady Davers! - Sir, said I, I hope there was no Need
for your Information, and so I can't thank you for it; especially as you seem to
think it wants an Oath to convince me of it.
    He look'd more foolish than I at this, if possible, not expecting such a
Reprimand - And said at last, Why, Mrs. Pamela, you put me half out of
Countenance with your witty Reproof! - Sir, said I, you seem quite a fine
Gentleman, and it will not be easily done, I dare say.
    How now, Pert-ones, said my Lady, do you know who you talk to? - I think I
do not, Madam, reply'd I: And, for fear I should forget myself more, I'll
withdraw. Your Ladyship's Servant, said I, and was going: But she rose, and gave
me a Push, and pull'd a Chair, and setting the Back against the Door, sat down
in it.
    Well, said I, I can bear any thing at your Ladyship's Hands; but I was ready
to cry tho'. And I went, and sat down, and fann'd myself at the other End of the
Room.
    Her Woman, who stood all the Time, said softly, Mrs. Pamela, you should not
sit in my Lady's Presence. And my Lady, tho' she did not hear her, said, You
shall sit down, Child, in the Room where I am, when I give you Leave.
    So I stood up, and said, When your Ladyship will hardly permit me to stand,
one might be indulg'd to sit down. But I ask'd you, said she, Whither your
Master is gone? To one Mr. Carlton, Madam, said I, about eighteen Miles off, who
is very sick. And when does he come home? - This Evening, Madam, said I. And
where are you going? To a Gentleman's House in the Town, Madam. And how was you
to go? - In the Chariot, Madam. - Why, you must be a Lady in time, to be sure! -
I believe you'd become a Chariot mighty well, Child! - Was you ever out in it,
with your Master?
    Pray your Ladyship, said I, be pleased to ask half a dozen such Questions
together; because one Answer may do for all! - Why, Boldface, said she, you'll
forget your Distance, and bring me to your Level before my Time.
    So I could no longer refrain Tears, but said, Pray your Ladyship, let me ask
what I have done to be thus severely treated? I never did your Ladyship any
Harm. And if you think I am deceived, as you was pleas'd to hint, I should be
more entitled to your Pity than your Anger.
    She arose, and took me by the Hand, and led me to her Chair, and then sat
down; and still holding my Hand, said, Why, Pamela, I did indeed pity you while
I thought you innocent; and when my Brother seize'd you, and brought you down
hither, without your Consent, I was concern'd for you. And I was still more
concern'd for you, and love'd you, when I heard of your Virtue and Resistance,
and your virtuous Efforts to get away from him. But when, as I fear, you have
suffer'd yourself to be prevail'd upon, and have lost your Innocence, and added
another to the Number of the Fools he has ruin'd, (This shock'd me a little!) I
cannot help showing my Displeasure to you.
    Madam, reply'd I, I must beg no hasty judgement; I have not lost my
Innocence! - Take care, take care, Pamela, said she! - Don't lose your Veracity,
as well as your Honour! - Why are you here, when you are at full Liberty to go
whither you please? - I will make one Proposal to you, and if you are innocent,
I am sure you'll accept it. Will you go and live with me? - I will instantly set
out with you, in my Chariot, and not stay half an Hour longer in this House, if
you'll go with me. - Now, if you're innocent, and willing to keep so, deny me,
if you can.
    I am innocent, Madam, reply'd I, and willing to keep so; and yet I cannot
consent to this. Then, said she, very mannerly, Thou lyest, Child, that's all;
and I give thee up!
    And so she arose, and walk'd about the Room in great Wrath. Her Nephew and
her Woman said, Your Ladyship's very good; 'tis a plain Case; a very plain Case!
    I would have remove'd the Chair, to have gone out, but her Nephew came and
sat in it. This provok'd me; for I thought I should be unworthy of the Honour I
was raise'd to, tho' I was afraid to own it, if I did not show some Spirit; and I
said, What, Sir, is your Pretence in this House, to keep me a Prisoner here?
Because, said he, - I like it. - Do you so, Sir? reply'd I: If that's the Answer
of a Gentleman to such a one as I, it would not, I dare say, be the Answer of a
Gentleman to a Gentleman. - My Lady! my Lady! said he, a Challenge, a Challenge,
by Gad! No, Sir, said I, I am of a Sex that gives no Challenges; and you think
so too, or you would not give this Occasion for the Word.
    Said my Lady, Don't be Surprise'd, Nephew; the Wench could not talk thus, if
she had not been her Master's Bed-fellow. - Pamela, Pamela, said she, and tapp'd
me upon the Shoulder, two or three times, in Anger, thou hast lost thy
Innocence, Girl; and thou hast got some of thy bold Master's Assurance, and art
fit to go any-whither. - Then, and please your Ladyship, said I, I am unworthy
of your Presence, and desire I may quit it.
    No, reply'd she, I will know first what Reason you can give for not
accepting my Proposal, if you are innocent? I can give, said I, a very good one;
but I beg to be excuse'd. I will hear it, said she. Why then, answer'd I, I
should perhaps have less Reason to like this Gentleman, than where I am.
    Well then, said she, I'll put you to another Trial. I'll set out this Moment
with you to your Father and Mother, and give you up safe to them. What do you
say to that? - Ay, Mrs. Pamela, said her Nephew, now what does your Innocence
say to that? - 'Fore Gad, Madam, you have puzzled her now.
    Be pleas'd, Madam, said I, to call off this fine Gentleman. Your Kindness in
these Proposals makes me hope you will not have me baited. I'll be d-- said he,
if she does not make me a Bull-dog! Why she'll toss us all by-and-by! Sir, said
I, you indeed behave as if you were in a Bear-garden.
    Jackey, be quiet, said my Lady. You only give her a Pretence to evade my
Questions. Come, answer me, Pamela. I will, Madam, said I, and it is thus: I
have no Occasion to be beholden to your Ladyship for this Honour; for I am to
set out to-morrow Morning on the Way to my Parents. - Now again, thou lyest,
Wench. - I am not of Quality, said I, to answer to such Language. - Once again,
said she, provoke me not, by these Reflections, and this Pertness; if thou dost,
I shall do something by thee unworthy of myself. That, thinks I, you have done
already; but I venture'd not to say so. But who is to carry you, said she, to
your Father and Mother? Who my Master pleases, Madam, said I. Ay, said she, I
doubt not, thou wilt do every thing he pleases, if thou hast not already. Why
now tell me, Pamela, from thy Heart, hast thou not been in Bed with thy Master?
Ha, Wench! - I was quite shock'd at this, and said, I wonder how your Ladyship
can use me thus! - I am sure you can expect no Answer; and my Sex, and my tender
Years, might exempt me from such Treatment, with a Person of your Ladyship's
Birth and Quality, and who, be the Distance ever so great, is of the same Sex
with me.
    Thou art a confident Wench, said she, I see! - Pray, Madam, said I, let me
beg you to permit me to go. I am waited for in the Town to Dinner. No, reply'd
she, I can't spare you, and whoever you are to go to, will excuse you, when they
are told 'tis I that commands you not to go; - and you may excuse it too, young
Lady Wou'd-be, if you consider that 'tis the unexpected Coming of your late
Lady's Daughter, and your Master's Sister, that commands your Stay.
    But a Pre-engagement, your Ladyship will consider, is something! - Ay, so it
is; but I know not what Reason Waiting-maids have to assume these Airs of
Pre-engagements! - Oh Pamela, Pamela, I am sorry for thy thus aping thy Betters,
and giving thyself such Airs; I see thou'rt quite spoil'd! Of a modest, innocent
Girl, that thou wast, and humble too, thou now art fit for nothing in the World,
but what I fear thou art.
    Why, please your Ladyship, said her Kinsman, what signifies all you say? The
Matter's over with her, no doubt; and she likes it; and she is in a Fairy-dream,
and 'tis pity to awaken her before her Dream's out. - Bad as you take me to be,
Madam, said I, I am not used to such Language or Reflections as this Gentleman
gives me; and I won't bear it.
    Well, Jackey, said she, be silent; and shaking her Head, Poor Girl, said
she! - What a sweet Innocence is here destroy'd! - A thousand Pities! - I could
cry over her, if that would do her good! But she is quite lost, quite undone;
and then has assum'd a Carriage upon it, that all those Creatures are
distinguish'd by! -
    I cry'd sadly for Vexation; and said, Say what you please, Madam: If I can
help it, I will not answer another Word. -
    Mrs. Jewkes came in, and ask'd, If her Ladyship was ready for Dinner. She
said, Yes. I would have gone out with her; but my Lady said, taking my Hand, she
could not spare me. And, Miss, said she, you may pull off your Gloves, and lay
your Fan by, for you shan't go; and if you behave well, you shall wait upon me
at Dinner, and then I shall have a little further Talk with you.
    Mrs. Jewkes said to me, Madam, may I speak one Word with you? - I can't
tell, Mrs. Jewkes, said I; for my Lady holds my Hand, and you see I am a kind of
Prisoner.
    What you have to say, Mrs. Jewkes, said she, you may speak before me. But
she went out, and seem'd vex'd for me; and she says, I look'd like the very
Scarlet.
    The Cloth was laid in another Parlour, and for three Persons, and she led me
in: Come, my little Dear, said she, with a Sneer, I'll hand you in, and I wou'd
have you think it as well as if it was my Brother.
    What a sad Case, thought I, should I be in, if I were as naughty as she
thinks me! It was bad enough as it was.
    Jackey, said my Lady, come, let us go to Dinner. She said to her Woman, Do
you, Beck, help Pamela to 'tend us; we will have no Menfellows. - Come, my young
Lady, shall I help you off with your white Gloves? - I have not, Madam, said I,
deserve'd this at your Ladyship's Hands.
    Mrs. Jewkes coming in with the first Dish, she said, Do you expect any body
else, Mrs. Jewkes, that you lay the Cloth for three? - Said she, I hop'd your
Ladyship and Madam would have been so well reconcil'd, that she would have sat
down too. - What means the clownish Woman? said my Lady, in great Disdain: Could
you think the Creature should sit down with me. - She does, Madam, and please
your Ladyship, with my Master. - I doubt it not, good Woman, said she, and lyes
with him too, does she not? Answer me, Fat-face! - How these Ladies are
privileg'd!
    If she does, Madam, said she, there may be a Reason for it, perhaps! And
went out. - So, said she, has the Wench got thee over too! - Come, my little
Dear, pull off thy Gloves, I say; and off she pull'd my Left Glove herself, and
'spy'd my Ring. O my dear God! said she, if the Wench has not got a Ring! -
Well, this is a pretty Piece of Foolery, indeed! Dost know, my Friend, that thou
art miserably trick'd! - And so, poor Innocent, thou hast made a fine Exchange,
hast thou not? Thy Honesty for this Bauble! And I'll warrant, my little Dear has
topp'd her Part, and paraded it like any real Wife; and so mimicks still the
Condition! - Why, said she, and turn'd me round, thou art as mincing as any
Bride! No wonder thou art thus trick'd out, and talkest of thy Pre-engagements!
Pr'ythee, Child, walk before me to that Glass, survey thyself, and come back to
me, that I may see how finely thou canst act the Theatrical Part given thee!
    I was then resolve'd to try to be silent; although most sadly vex'd. - So I
went and sat me down in the Window, and she took her Place at the upper End of
the Table; and her saucy Jackey, fleering at me most provokingly, sat down by
her. - Said he, Shall not the Bride sit down by us, Madam? Ay, well thought of,
said my Lady: Pray, Mrs. Bride, your Pardon for sitting down in your Place? - I
said nothing.
    Said she, with a poor Pun, Thou hast some Modesty, however, Child! For thou
canst not stand it, so must sit down, tho' in my Presence! - I still kept my
Seat, and said nothing. - Thinks I, this is a sad Thing, and I am hinder'd too
from showing my Duty where it is most due, and shall have Anger there too,
may-be, if my dear Master should be there before me! - So she eat some Soup, as
did her Kinsman; and then as she was cutting up a Fowl, said, If thou long'st,
my little Dear, I will help thee to a Pinion, or Breast, or any thing. But
may-be, Child, said he, thou likest the Rump, shall I bring it thee? And then
laugh'd like an Idiot, for all he is a Lord's Son, and may be a Lord himself. -
For he is the Son of the Lord --; and his Mother, who was Lord Davers's Sister,
being dead, he has receive'd what Education he has, from Lord Davers's Direction.
Poor Wretch! for all his Greatness! he'll ne'er die for a Plot, - at least of
his own hatching. If I could then have gone up, I would have given you his
Picture. But for one of 25 or 26 Years of Age, much about the Age of my dear
Master, he is a most odd Mortal.
    Pamela, said my Lady, help me to a Glass of Wine. No, Beck, said she, you
shan't; for she was offering to do it. I will have my Lady Bride confer that
Honour upon me; and then I shall see if she can stand up. I was silent, and
never stirr'd.
    Dost hear, Chastity? said she. Help me to a Glass of Wine, when I bid thee.
- What! not stir! Then I'll come and help thee to one. Still I stirr'd not, and
fanning myself, continue'd silent. Said she, When I have ask'd thee, Meek-ones,
half a dozen Questions together, I suppose thou wilt answer them all at once!
Pretty Creature, is not that it?
    I was so vex'd, I bit a Piece of my Fan out, not knowing what I did; but
still I said nothing, and did nothing but flutter it, and fan myself.
    I believe, said she, my next Question will make up half a dozen; and then,
Modest-ones, I shall be entitled to an Answer.
    He arose, and brought the Bottle and Glass, Come, said he, Mrs. Bride, be
pleas'd to help my Lady, and I will be your Deputy. Sir, reply'd I, it is in a
good Hand; help my Lady yourself. - Why, Creature, said she, dost thou think
thyself above it? - And then flew into a Passion, Insolence! continued she, this
Moment, when I bid you, know your Duty, and give me a Glass of Wine; or -
    So, I took a little Spirit then - thinks I, I can but be beat - If, said I,
to attend your Ladyship at Table, or even kneel at your Feet, was require'd of
me, I would most gladly do it, were I only the Person you think me; but, if it
be to triumph over one who has received Honours, that she thinks requires her to
act another Part, not to be utterly unworthy of them, I must say, I cannot do
it.
    She seem'd quite Surprise'd, and look'd now upon her Kinsman, and then upon
her Woman. - I'm astonish'd! I'm quite astonish'd! - Well then, I suppose you
would have me conclude you my Brother's Wife; wou'd you not?
    Your Ladyship, said I, compels this from me! - Well, return'd she, but dost
thou thyself think thou art so? - Silence, said her Kinsman, gives Consent. 'Tis
plain enough she does. Shall I rise, Madam, and pay my Duty to my new Aunt?
    Tell me, said my Lady, what, in the Name of Impudence, possesses thee, to
dare to look upon thyself as my Sister? - Madam, reply'd I, that is a Question
will better become your most worthy Brother to answer, than me?
    She was rising in great Wrath; but her Woman said, Good your Ladyship;
you'll do yourself more Harm, than her; and if the poor Girl has been deluded
so, as you have heard, with the Sham-marriage, she'll be more deserving of your
Ladyship's Pity than Anger. True, Beck, very true, said my Lady; but there's no
bearing the Impudence of the Creature mean-time.
    I would have gone out at the Door, but her Kinsman run and set his Back
against it. I expected bad Treatment from her Pride and violent Temper; but this
was worse than I could have thought of. And I said to him, Sir, when my Master
comes to know your rude Behaviour, you will, may-be, have Cause to repent it.
And went and sat down in the Window again.
    Another Challenge, by Gad! said he; but I am glad she says her Master! - You
see, Madam, she herself does not believe she is marry'd, and so has not been so
much deluded as you think for. And coming to me with a most barbarous Air of
Insult, he said, kneeling on one Knee before me, My new Aunt, your Blessing, or
your Curse, I care not which; but quickly give me one or other, that I may not
lose my Dinner!
    I gave him a most contemptuous Look: Tinsel'd Toy, said I, (for he was lac'd
all over) Twenty or Thirty Years hence, when you are at Age, I shall know how to
answer you better; mean-time, sport with your Footmen, and not me! And so I
remove'd to another Window nearer the Door, and he look'd like a sad Foolish, as
he is.
    Beck, Beck, said my Lady, this is not to be borne! Was ever the like heard!
Is my Kinsman and Lord Davers's to be thus used by such a Slut? And was coming
to me: And indeed I began to be afraid; for I have but a poor Heart, after all.
But Mrs. Jewkes, hearing high Words, came in again, with the second Course, and
said, Pray your Ladyship, don't so discompose yourself. I am afraid this Day's
Business will make Matters wider than ever between your good Ladyship and your
Brother: For my Master doats upon Madam.
    Woman, said she, do thou be silent! Sure, I, that was born in this House,
may have some Privilege in it, without being talk'd to by the saucy Servants in
it!
    I beg Pardon, Madam, reply'd Mrs. Jewkes; and turning to me, said, Madam, my
Master will take it very ill, if you make him wait for you thus. So I rose to go
out; but my Lady said, If it was only for that Reason, she shan't go. - And went
to the Door, and shut it, and said to Mrs. Jewkes, Woman, don't come again till
I call you; and coming to me, took my Hand, and said, Find your Legs, Miss, if
you please.
    I stood up, and she tapp'd my Cheek! Oh! says she, that scarlet Glow shows
what a rancorous little Heart thou hast, if thou durst show it; but come this
way. And so led me to her Chair: Stand there, said she, and answer me a few
Questions while I dine, and I'll dismiss thee, till I call thy impudent Master
to Account; and then I'll have you Face to Face, and all this Mystery of
Iniquity shall be unravell'd; for, between you, I will come to the Bottom of it.
    When she had sat down, I mov'd to the Window on the other Side the Parlour,
looking into the private Garden; and her Woman said, Mrs. Pamela, don't make my
Lady angry. Stand by her Ladyship, as she bids you. Said I, Pray, good now, let
it suffice you to attend your Lady's Commands, and don't lay yours upon me. -
Your Pardon, sweet Mrs. Pamela, said she. Times are much alter'd with you, I'll
assure you! Said I, Her Ladyship has a very good Plea to be free in the House
that she was born in. But you may as well confine your Freedoms to the House in
which you had your Breeding. Why, how now, Mrs. Pamela, said she! Since you
provoke me to it, I'll tell you a Piece of my Mind. Hush, hush, good Woman, said
I, alluding to my Lady's Language to Mrs. Jewkes; my Lady wants not your
Assistance! - Besides, I can't scold!
    The Woman was ready to stutter with Vexation; and Lord Jackey laugh'd as if
he would burst his Sides; G--d-- me, Beck, said he, you'd better let her alone
to my Lady here; for she'll be too many for twenty such as you and I. - And then
he laugh'd again, and repeated - I can't scold, quoth-a! but, by Gad, Miss, you
can speak d--d spightful Words, I can tell you that! - Poor Beck! poor Beck! -
'Fore Gad, she's quite dumb-founder'd!
    Well, but, Pamela, said my Lady, come hither, and tell me truly: Dost thou
think thyself really marry'd? - Said I, and approach'd her Chair, My good Lady,
I will answer all your Commands, if you'll have Patience with me, and not be so
angry as you are; but I can't bear to be us'd thus by this Gentleman, and your
Ladyship's Woman. Child, said she, thou art very impertinent to my Kinsman; thou
can'st not be civil to me; and my Ladyship's Woman is much thy Betters. But
that's not the Thing! - Dost thou think thou art really marry'd?
    I see, Madam, said I, you are resolve'd not to be pleas'd with any Answer I
shall return: If I should say, I am not, then your Ladyship will call me hard
Names, and perhaps I should tell a Fib. If I should say, I am, your Ladyship
will ask how I have the Impudence to be so, - and will call it a Sham-marriage.
I will, said she, be answer'd more directly. Why, what, and please your
Ladyship, does it signify what I think? Your Ladyship will believe as you
please.
    But canst thou have the Vanity, the Pride, the Folly, said she, to think
thyself actually marry'd to my Brother? He is no Fool, Child; and Libertine
enough of Conscience; and thou art not the first in the List of his credulous
Harlots. - Well, well, said I, (and was in a sad Flutter) as I am easy and
pleas'd with my Lot, pray your Ladyship let me continue so, as long as I can. It
will be Time enough for me to know the worst, when the worst comes. And if it
will be so bad, your Ladyship should pity me, rather than thus torment me before
my Time.
    Well, said she, but dost not think I am concern'd that a young Wench, whom
my poor dear Mother love'd so well, should thus cast herself away, and suffer
herself to be deluded and undone, after such a noble Stand as thou mad'st for so
long a Time?
    I think myself far from being deluded and undone, and please your Ladyship,
and am as innocent and virtuous as ever I was in my Life. Thou lyest, Child,
said she. So your Ladyship told me twice before!
    She gave me a Slap on the Hand for this; and I made a low Curchee, and said,
I humbly thank your Ladyship! - but I could not refrain Tears. And added, Your
dear Brother, Madam, however, won't thank your Ladyship for this Usage of me,
tho' I do. Come a little nearer me, my Dear, said she, and thou shalt have a
little more than that to tell him of, if thou think'st thou hast not made
Mischief enough already between a Sister and Brother. But, Child, if he was
here, I would serve thee worse, and him too. I wish he was, said I. - Dost thou
threaten me, Mischief-maker, and insolent as thou art?
    Now, pray your Ladyship, said I, (but got to a little Distance) be pleas'd
to reflect upon all that you have said to me, since I have had the Honour, or
rather Misfortune, to come into your Presence; whether you have said one Thing
befitting your Ladyship's Degree to me, even supposing I was the Wench, and the
Creature, you suppose me to be? - Come hither, my pert Dear, reply'd she; come
but within my Reach for one Moment, and I'll answer thee as thou deservest.
    To be sure she meant to box my Ears. But I should be unworthy of my happy
Lot, if I could not show some Spirit.
    When the Cloth was taken away, I said, I suppose I may now depart your
Presence, Madam? I suppose not, said she. Why, I'll lay thee a Wager, Child, thy
Stomach's too full to eat, and so thou may'st fast till thy mannerly Master
comes home.
    Pray your Ladyship, said her Woman, let the poor Girl sit down at Table with
Mrs. Jewkes and me. - Said I, you are very kind, Mrs. Worden; but Times, as you
said, are much alter'd with me; and I have been of late so much honour'd by
better Company, that I can't stoop to yours.
    Was ever such Confidence, said my Lady! Poor Beck, poor Beck, said her
Kinsman; why, she beats you quite out of the Pit! - Will your Ladyship, said I,
be pleased to tell me how long I am to tarry? For you'll please to see by that
Letter, that I am oblige'd to attend my Master's Commands. And so I gave her the
dear Gentleman's Letter from Mr. Carlton's, which I thought would make her use
me better, as she might judge by it of the Honour done me by him. Ay, said she,
this is my worthy Brother's Hand. It is directed to Mrs. Andrews. That's to you,
I suppose, Child? And so she read on, making Remarks as she went along, in this
manner:
 
My dearest Pamela, - »Mighty well!« - I hope my not coming home this Night will
not frighten you! - »Vastly tender, indeed! - And did it frighten you, Child!« -
You may believe I can't help it. »No, to be sure! - A Person in thy Way of Life,
is more tenderly used than an honest Wife. But mark the End of it!« - I could
have wish'd, »Prythee, Jackey, mind this,« we »mind the significant We,« had not
engaged to the good Neighbourhood, at Sir Simon's for to-morrow Night. -- »Why,
does the good Neighbourhood, and does Sir Simon, permit thy Visits, Child? They
shall have none of mine then, I'll assure them!« But I am so desirous to set out
on Wednesday for the other House - »So, Jackey, we but just nick'd it, I find.«
- that, as well as in Return for the Civilities of so many good Friends, who
will be there on purpose, I would not put it off. - »Now mind, Jackey« - What I
beg of you, - »Mind the Wretch, that could use me and your Uncle, as he has
done; he is turn'd Beggar to this Creature!« I beg of you, therefore, my Dear,
»My Dear! there's for you! - I wish I may not be quite sick before I get thro'.«
- What I beg of you, therefore, my Dear, [and then she look'd me full in the
Face] is, that you will go in the Chariot to Sir Simon's, the sooner in the Day,
the better; - »Dear Heart! and why so, when WE were not expected till Night?
Why, pray observe the Reason - Hem!« [said she] Because you will be diverted
with the Company; »Mighty kind indeed!« -- who all, »Jackey, Jackey, mind this,«
- who all so much admire you. »Now he'd ha' been hang'd to have said so
complaisant a thing, had he been marry'd, I'm sure!« - »Very true, Aunt, said
he: A plain Case that!« - [Thinks I, that's hard upon poor Matrimony, tho'. I
hope my Lady don't find it so. But I durst not speak out.] Who all so much
admire you, [said she] »I must repeat that - Pretty Miss - I wish thou wast as
admirable for thy Virtue, as for that Baby-face of thine!« - And I hope to join
you there by your Tea-time, in the Afternoon! - »So, you're in very good Time,
Child, an Hour or two hence, to answer all your important Pre-engagements!« -
which will be better than going home, and returning with you; as it will be six
Miles Difference to me; and I know the good Company will excuse my Dress on the
Occasion. »Very true, any Dress is good enough, I'm sure, for such Company as
admire thee, Child, for a Companion in thy ruin'd State! - Jackey, Jackey, mind,
mind again! more fine things still.« I count every Hour of this little Absence
for a Day; - »There's for you! Let me repeat it,« I count every Hour of this
little Absence for a Day! - »Mind too the Wit of the good Man! One may see Love
is a new thing to him. Here is a very tedious time gone since he saw his Deary;
no less than, according to his amorous Calculation, a Dozen Days and Nights, at
least! and yet, TEDIOUS as it is, it is but a LITTLE ABSENCE. Well said, my good
accurate and consistent Brother. - But wise Men in Love, are always the greatest
Simpletons! - But now comes the Reason, why this LITTLE Absence, which, at the
same time, is so GREAT an Absence, is so tedious:« FOR I am, »Ay, now for it!« -
with the utmost Sincerity, My dearest Love, »Out upon DEAREST LOVE! I shall
never love the Word again! Pray bid your Uncle never call me Dearest Love,
Jackey!« - For Ever Yours! - »But, Brother, thou lyest! - Thou knows thou
dost. - And so, my good Lady Andrews, or what shall I call you? Your dearest
Love will be for Ever Yours! And hast thou the Vanity to believe this! - But
stay, here is a Postscript. The poor Man knew not when to have done to his
dearest Love. - He's sadly in for't, truly! Why, his dearest Love, you are
mighty happy in such a Lover!« - If you could go to dine with them, - »Cry your
Mercy, my dearest Love, now comes the Pre-engagement!« it will be a Freedom that
will be very pleasing to them, and the more as they don't expect it.
 
Well, so much for this kind Letter! But you see you cannot honour this admiring
Company with this little-expected, and, but in Complaisance to his Folly, I dare
say, little-desired Freedom. And I cannot forbear admiring you so much myself,
my dearest Love, that I will not spare you at all, this whole Evening. For 'tis
a little hard, if thy Master's Sister may not be blessed a little bit with thy
charming Company.
    So I found I had showed her my Letter to very little Purpose, and repented
it several times, as she read on. - Well then, I hope, said I, your Ladyship
will give me Leave to send my Excuses to your good Brother, and say, that your
Ladyship is come, and is so fond of me, that you will not let me leave you. -
Pretty Creature! said she; and wantest thou thy good Master to come, and quarrel
with his Sister on thy Account? - But thou shalt not stir from my Presence; and
I would now ask thee, What it is thou meanest by showing me this Letter? - Why,
Madam, said I, to show your Ladyship how I was engaged for this Day and Evening.
- And for nothing else? said she. Why, I can't tell, Madam, said I: But if you
can collect from it any other Circumstances, I might hope I should be not the
worse treated.
    I saw her Eyes began to sparkle with Passion; and she took my Hand, and
said, grasping it very hard, I know, confident Creature, that you show'd it me
to insult me! - You show'd it me, to let me see, that he could be civiller to a
Beggar-born, than to me, or to my good Lord Davers! - You show'd it me, as if
you'd have me as credulous a Fool as yourself, to believe your true Marriage,
when I know the whole Trick of it, and have Reason to believe you do too; and
you show'd it me, to upbraid me with his stooping to such painted Dirt, to the
Disgrace of a Family, ancient and untainted beyond most in the Kingdom; and now
will I give thee One hundred Guineas for one bold Word, that I may fell thee at
my Foot.
    Was not this very dreadful! To be sure, I had better have kept the Letter
from her. I was quite frighten'd! - And this fearful Menace, and her fiery Eyes,
and rageful Countenance, made me lose all my Courage! - So I said, weeping, Good
your Ladyship, pity me! - Indeed I am honest; indeed I am virtuous; indeed I
would not do a bad thing for the World.
    Tho' I know, said she, the whole Trick of thy pretended Marriage, and thy
foolish Ring here, and all the rest of the wicked Nonsense; yet I should not
have Patience with thee, if thou but offerest to let me know thy Vanity prompts
thee to believe thou art marry'd to my Brother! - I could not bear the Thought!
- So take care, Pamela; take care, beggarly Brat; take care.
    Good your Ladyship, said I, spare my dear Parents. They are honest and
industrious: They were once in a very creditable Way, and never were Beggars.
Misfortunes may attend any body: And I can bear the cruellest Imputations on
myself, because I know my Innocence; but upon such honest, industrious Parents,
who lived thro' the greatest Trials, without being beholden to any thing but
God's Blessing, and their own hard Labour; I cannot bear Reflection.
    What! art thou setting up for a Family, Creature as thou art! God! give me
Patience with thee! I suppose my Brother's Folly for thee, and his Wickedness
together, will, in a little while, occasion a Search at the Herald's-office, to
set out thy wretched Obscurity. Provoke me, I desire thou wilt. One hundred
Guineas will I give thee, to say but thou thinkest thou art marry'd to my
Brother!
    Your Ladyship, I hope, won't kill me. And since nothing I can say, will
please; but your Ladyship is resolved to quarrel with me; since I must not say
what I think, on one hand nor another, whatever your Ladyship designs by me, be
pleased to do, and let me depart your Presence!
    She gave me a Slap on the Hand, and reached to box my Ear; but Mrs. Jewkes
hearkening without, and her Woman too, they both came in at that Instant; and
Mrs. Jewkes said, pushing herself in between us, Your Ladyship knows not what
you do. Indeed you don't. My Master would never forgive me, if I suffer'd, in
his House, one he so dearly loves, to be so used; and it must not be, tho' you
are Lady Davers. Her Woman too interposed, and told her, I was not worth her
Ladyship's Anger. But she was like a Person beside herself.
    I offer'd to go out, and Mrs. Jewkes took my Hand, to lead me out: But her
Kinsman set his back against the Door, and put his Hand to his Sword, and said,
I should not go, till his Aunt permitted it. He drew it half-way; and I was so
terrified, that I cry'd out, Oh! the Sword! the Sword! and, not knowing what I
did, I run to my Lady herself, and clasp'd my Arms about her, forgetting, just
then, how much she was my Enemy, and said, sinking on my Knees, Defend me, good
your Ladyship! The Sword! the Sword! - Mrs. Jewkes said, Oh! my Lady will fall
into Fits; but Lady Davers was, herself, so startled at the matter being carry'd
so far, that she did not mind her Words, and said, Jackey, don't draw your
Sword! - You see, as great as her Spirit is, she can't bear that.
    Come, said she, be comforted; he shan't fright you! - I'll try to overcome
my Anger, and will pity you. So, Wench, rise up, and don't be foolish. Mrs.
Jewkes held her Salts to my Nose, and I did not faint. And my Lady said, Mrs.
Jewkes, if you would be forgiven, leave Pamela and me by ourselves; and, Jackey,
do you withdraw; only you, Beck, stay.
    So I sat down in the Window, all in a sad Fluster; for, to be sure, I was
sadly frighted. - Said her Woman, You should not sit in my Lady's Presence, Mrs.
Pamela. Yes, let her sit till she is a little recover'd of her Fright, said my
Lady, and set my Chair by her. And so she sat over-against me, and said, To be
sure, Pamela, you have been very provoking with your Tongue, to be sure you
have, as well upon my Nephew, (who is a Man of Quality too) as me. And,
palliating her cruel Usage, and beginning, I suppose, to think herself, she had
carry'd it further than she could answer it to her Brother, she wanted to lay
the Fault upon me; Own, said she, you have been very saucy, and beg my Pardon,
and beg Jackey's Pardon; and I will try to pity you: For you are a sweet Girl,
after all; - if you had but held out, and been honest.
    'Tis injurious to me, Madam, said I, to imagine I am not honest! - Said she,
Have you not been a-bed with my Brother? tell me that. - Your Ladyship, reply'd
I, asks your Questions in a strange Way, and in strange Words.
    Oh! your Delicacy is wounded, I suppose, by my plain Question! - This
Niceness will soon leave you Wench: It will indeed. But answer me directly. Said
I, Then your Ladyship's next Question will be, Am I marry'd? And you won't bear
my Answer to that, - and will beat me again.
    I han't beat you yet; have I, Beck? said she. So you want to make out a
Story, do you? - But, indeed, I can't bear thou should'st so much as think thou
art my Sister. I know the whole Trick of it; and so, 'tis my Opinion, dost thou.
It is only thy little Cunning, that it may look like a Cloak to thy yielding,
and get better Terms from him. Pr'ythee, pr'ythee, Wench, thou seest I know the
World a little; - almost as much at Thirty-two, as thou dost at Sixteen. -
Remember that!
    I rose from the Window, and walking to the other End of the Room, Beat me
again, if you please, said I; but I must tell you Ladyship, I scorn your Words,
and am as much marry'd as your Ladyship!
    At that she run to me, but her Woman interposed again; Let the vain wicked
Creature go from your Presence, Madam, said she. She is not worthy to be in it.
She will but vex your Ladyship. Stand away, Beck, said she. That's an Assertion
that I would not take from my Brother. I can't bear it. As much marry'd as I! -
Is that to be borne? But if the Creature believes she is, Madam, said her Woman,
she is to be as much pity'd for her Credulity, as despised for her Vanity.
    I was in hopes to have splipped out of the Door; but she caught hold of my
Gown, and pulled me back. Pray your Ladyship, said I, don't kill me! - I have
done no Harm. - But she lock'd the Door, and put the Key in her Pocket. So
seeing Mrs. Jewkes before the Window, I lifted up the Sash, and said, Mrs.
Jewkes, I believe it would be best for the Chariot to go to your Master, and let
him know, that Lady Davers is here; and I cannot leave her Ladyship.
    She was resolved to be displeased, let me say what I would. Said she, No,
no; he'll then think that I make the Creature my Companion, and know not how to
part with her. I thought your Ladyship, reply'd I, could not have taken
Exceptions at this Message. Thou knows nothing, Wench, said she, of what
belongs to People of Condition: How shouldst thou? Nor, thought I, do I desire
it, at this Rate.
    What shall I say, Madam? said I. Nothing at all, reply'd she; let him expect
his Dearest Love, and be disappointed; it is but adding a few more Hours, and he
will make every one a Day, in his amorous Account. - Mrs. Jewkes coming nearer
me, and my Lady walking about the Room, being then at the End, I whisper'd, Let
Robert stay at the Elms; I'll have a Struggle for't by-and-by.
    As much marry'd as I! repeated she. - The Insolence of the Creature! - And
so she walk'd about the Room, talking to herself, to her Woman, and now-and-then
to me; but seeing I could not please her, I thought I had better be silent. And
then it was, Am I not worthy an Answer? If I speak, said I, your Ladyship is
angry at me, tho' ever so respectfully; if I do not, I cannot please: Would your
Ladyship tell me but how I shall oblige you, and I would do it with all my
Heart?
    Confess the Truth, said she, that thou'rt an undone Creature; hast been in
Bed with thy Master; and art sorry for it, and for the Mischief thou hast
occasion'd between him and me; and then I'll pity thee, and persuade him to pack
thee off, with a hundred or two of Guineas, and some honest Farmer may take Pity
of thee, and patch up thy Shame, for the sake of the Money; and if nobody will
have thee, thou must vow Penitence, and be as humble as I once thought thee.
    I was quite sick at Heart, at all this passionate Extravagance, and to be
hinder'd from being where was the Desire of my Soul, and afraid too of incurring
my dear Master's Displeasure; and, as I sat, I saw it was no hard matter to get
out of the Window, into the Front-yard, the Parlour being even with the Yard,
and so have a fair Run for it; and after I had seen my Lady at the other End of
the Room again, in her Walks, having not pulled down the Sash, when I spoke to
Mrs. Jewkes, I got upon the Seat, and whipped out in a Minute, and ran away as
hard as I could drive, my Lady calling after me to return, and her Woman at the
other Window: But two of her Servants appearing at her crying out, and she
bidding them stop me, I said, Touch me at your Peril, Fellows; but their Lady's
Commands would have prevail'd on them, had not Mr. Colbrand, who, it seems, had
been kindly order'd, by Mrs. Jewkes, to be within Call, when she saw how I was
treated, come up, and put on one of his deadly fierce Looks, the only time, I
thought, it ever became him, and said, He would chine the Man, that was his
Word, who offer'd to touch his Lady; and so he run along-side of me; and I heard
my Lady say, The Creature flies like a Bird! And, indeed, Mr. Colbrand, with his
huge Strides, could hardly keep pace with me; and I never stopped till I got to
the Chariot; and Robert had got down, seeing me running at a Distance, and held
the Door in his Hand, with the Step ready down; and in I jumpt, without touching
the Step, saying, Drive me, drive me, as fast as you can, out of my Lady's
Reach! And he mounted, and Colbrand said, Don't be frighten'd, Madam; nobody
shall hurt you. - And shut the Door, and away Robert drove; but I was quite out
of Breath, and did not recover it, and my Fright, all the Way.
    Mr. Colbrand was so kind, but I did not know it till the Chariot stopped at
Sir Simon's, to step up behind the Coach, lest, as he said, my Lady should send
after me; and he told Mrs. Jewkes, when he got home, that he never saw such a
Runner as me, in his Life.
    When the Chariot stopped, which was not till Six o'Clock, so long did this
cruel Lady keep me, Miss Darnford run out to me; O, Madam, said she, ten times
welcome! but you'll be beat, I can tell you; for here has been the 'Squire come
these two Hours, and is very angry at you.
    That's hard indeed, said I! - Indeed I can't afford it! - for I hardly knew
what I said, having not recover'd my Fright. Let me sit down, Miss, anywhere,
said I; for I have been sadly off. So I sat down, and was quite sick with the
Hurry of my Spirits, and lean'd upon her Arm.
    Said she, Your Lord and Master came in very moody; and when he had staid an
Hour, and you not come, he began to fret, and said, He did not expect so little
Complaisance from you. And he is now sat down, with great Persuasions, to a Game
at Loo. - Come, you must make your Appearance, Lady fair; for he's too sullen to
attend you, I doubt.
    You have no Strangers, have you, Miss, said I? - Only two Women Relations
from Stamford, reply'd she, and an humble Servant of one of them. - Only all the
World, Miss! said I. -- What shall I do, if he be angry? I can't bear that.
    Just as I had said so, came in Lady Darnford and Lady Jones, to chide me, as
they said, for not coming sooner. And before I could speak, came in my dear
Master. I ran to him. How d'ye, Pamela, said he, and saluted me, with a little
more Formality than I could well bear. - I expected half a Word from me, when I
was so complaisant to your Choice, would have determin'd you, and that you'd
been here to Dinner; - and the rather, as I made my Request a reasonable one,
and what, I thought, would be agreeable to you. O dear Sir, said I, pray, pray
hear me, and you'll pity me, and not be displeased: Mrs. Jewkes will tell you,
that as soon as I had your kind Commands, I said, I would obey you, and come to
Dinner with these good Ladies; and so prepared myself instantly, with all the
Pleasure in the World. Lady Darnford and Miss said, I was their Dear! - Look
you, said Miss, did I not tell you, Stately-ones, that something must have
happen'd? But O these Tyrants! these Men!
    Why, what hinder'd it, my Dear? said he: Give yourself Time; you seem out of
Breath! - O Sir, said I, Out of Breath! well I may! - For, just as I was ready
to come away, who should drive into the Court-yard, but Lady Davers! - Lady
Davers! Nay, then, my sweet Dear, said he, and kissed me more tenderly, hast
thou had a worse Trial than I wish thee, from one of the haughtiest Women in
England, tho' my Sister! - For she, too, my Pamela, was spoiled by my good
Mother! - But have you seen her?
    Yes, Sir, said I, and more than seen her! - Why, sure, said he, she has not
had the Insolence to strike my Girl! - Sir, said I, but tell me you forgive me;
for indeed I could not come sooner; and these good Ladies but excuse me; and
I'll tell you all another time; for to take up the good Company's Attention now,
will spoil their Pleasantry, and be to them, tho' more important to me, like the
Lady's broken China, you caution'd me about.
    That's a dear Girl! said he; I see my Hints are not thrown away upon you;
and I beg Pardon for being angry at you; and, for the future, will stay till I
hear your Defence before I judge you. Said Miss Darnford, This is a little
better! To own a Fault, is some Reparation; and what every lordly Husband will
not do. He said, But tell me, my Dear, Did Lady Davers offer you any Incivility?
O Sir, reply'd I, she is your Sister, and I must not tell you all; but she has
used me very severely. Did you tell her, said he, you was marry'd? - Yes, Sir, I
did at last: But she will have it, 'tis a Sham-marriage, and that I am a vile
Creature: And she was ready to beat me, when I said so; for she could not have
Patience that I should be deem'd her Sister, as she said.
    How unlucky it was, reply'd he, I was not at home? - Why did you not send to
me here? Send, Sir! I was kept Prisoner by Force. They would not let me stir, or
do you think, I would have been hinder'd from obeying you? Nay, I told them,
that I had a Pre-engagement; but she ridiculed me, and said, Waiting-maids talk
of Pre-engagements! and then I show'd her your kind Letter; and she made a
thousand Remarks upon it, and made me wish I had not. In short, whatever I could
do or say, there was no pleasing her; and I was a Creature, and Wench, and all
that was naught. But you must not be angry with her, on my Account.
    Well, but, said he, I suppose she hardly asked you to dine with her; for she
came before Dinner, I suppose, if it was soon after you had received my Letter?
No, Sir, dine with my Lady! no indeed! Why, she would make me wait at Table upon
her, with her Woman, because she would not expose herself and me before the
Men-servants; which, you know, Sir, was very good of her Ladyship.
    Well, said he, but did you wait at Table upon her? Would you have had me,
Sir? said I. - Only, Pamela, reply'd he, if you did, and knew not what belong'd
to your Character, as my Wife, I shall be very angry with you. Sir, said I, I
did not; but refused it, out of Consideration of the Dignity you have raised me
to; else, Sir, I could have waited on my Knees upon your Sister.
    Now, said he, you confirm my Opinion of your Prudence and judgement. She is
an insolent Woman, and shall dearly repent it. But, Sir, she is to be excuse'd,
because she won't believe I am indeed marry'd; so don't be too angry at her
Ladyship.
    He said, Ladies, pray don't let us keep you from the Company; I'll only ask
a Question or two more, and attend you. Said Lady Jones, I so much long to hear
this Story of poor Madam's Persecution, that if it was not improper, I should be
glad to stay. Miss Darnford would stay for the same Reason; my Master saying, he
had no Secrets to ask, and that it was kind of them to interest themselves in my
Grievances.
    But Lady Darnford went in to the Company, and told them the Cause of my
Detention; for, it seems, my dear Master loved me too well, to keep to himself
the Disappointment my not being here to receive him, had given him; and they had
all given the two Miss Boroughs's, and Mr. Perry, the Stamford Guests, such a
Character of me, that they said they were impatient to see me.
    Said my Master, But, Pamela, you said, They and Them; Who had my Sister with
her, besides her Woman? Her Nephew, Sir, and three Footmen on Horseback; and she
and her Woman were in her Chariot and Six.
    That's a sad Coxcomb, said he: How did he behave to you? - Not
extraordinarily, Sir; but I should not complain; for I was even with him;
because I thought I ought not to bear with him as with my Lady.
    By Heaven! said he, if I knew he behave'd unhandsomely to my Jewel, I'd send
him home to his Uncle without his Ears. Indeed, Sir, return'd I, I was as hard
upon him, as he was upon me. Said he, 'Tis kind to make the best for them. But I
believe I shall make them dearly repent their Visit, if I find their Behaviour
to call for my Resentment.
    But, sure, my Dear, you might have got away when you went to your own
Dinner? Indeed, Sir, said I, her Ladyship locked me in, and would not let me
stir. - So you han't eat any Dinner? No, indeed, Sir, nor had a Stomach to any.
My poor Dear! said he. But then, how got you away at last? - O, Sir, reply'd I,
I jump'd out of the Parlour Window, and run away to the Chariot, which had
waited for me several Hours, by the Elm-walk, from the Time of my Lady's coming
(for I was just going, as I said); and Mr. Colbrand saw me thro' her Servants,
whom she call'd to, to stop me; and was so kind to step behind the Chariot,
unknown to me, and saw me safe here.
    I'm sure, said he, these insolent Creatures must have treated you vilely.
But tell me, What Part did Mrs. Jewkes act in this Affair? A very kind Part,
Sir, said I, in my Behalf; and I shall thank her for it. Sweet Creature, said
he, thou makest the best for every body; but I hope she deserves it; for she
knew you are married. - But come, we'll now join the Company, and try to forget
all you have suffer'd, for two or three Hours, that we may not fill the Company
with our Concerns; and resume the Subject as we go home. And you shall find, I
will do you Justice as I ought. But you forgive me, Sir, said I, and are not
angry? Forgive you, my Dear! return'd he. - I hope you forgive me! - I shall
never make you Satisfaction for what you have suffer'd from me, and for me! And
with those Words, he led me into the Company.
    He very kindly presented me to the two Stranger Ladies, and the Gentleman,
and them to me; and Sir Simon, who was at Cards, rose from Table, and saluted
me; Adad! Madam, said he, I'm glad to see you here. What, it seems you have been
a Prisoner! 'Tis well you was, or your Spouse and I should have sat in judgement
upon you, and condemned you to a fearful Punishment for your first Crime of Læsæ
Majestatis (I had this explained to me afterwards, as a sort of Treason against
my Liege Lord and Husband). For we Husbands, hereabout, said he, are resolve'd to
turn over a new Leaf with our Wives, and your Lord and Master shall show us the
Way, I can tell you that. But I see by your Eyes, my sweet Culprit, added he,
and your Complection, you have had sour Sauce to your sweet Meat.
    Miss Darnford said, I think we are oblige'd to our sweet Guest, at last; for
she was forced to jump out at a Window to come to us. Indeed! said Mrs. Peters;
- and my Master's Back being turn'd, says she, Lady Davers, when a Maiden, was
always vastly passionate; but a very good Lady when it was over. And she'd make
nothing of slapping her Maids about, and begging their Pardons afterwards, if
they took it patiently; otherwise she used to say, The Creatures were even with
her.
    Ay, said I, I have been a many Creatures and Wenches, and I know not what;
for these were the best of her Names. And I thought I ought to act up to the
Part her dear Brother has given me; and so, truly, I have but just escaped a
good Cuffing.
    Miss Boroughs said to her Sister, as I heard, but she did not design it,
What a sweet Creature is this! And then she takes so little upon her, is so
free, so easy, and owns the Honour done her so obligingly! Said Mr. Perry,
softly, The loveliest Person I ever saw! Who could have the Heart to be angry
with her one Moment?
    Says Miss Darnford, Here, my dearest Neighbour, these Gentry are admiring
you strangely; and Mr. Perry says, you are the loveliest Lady he ever saw; and
says it to his own Mistress's Face too, I'll assure you. - Or else, says Miss
Boroughs, I should think he much flatter'd me.
    O Miss, return'd I, you are exceedingly obliging; but your kind Opinion
ought to learn me Humility, and to reverence so generous a Worth as can give a
Preference against yourself, where it is so little due. Indeed, Madam, said Miss
Nanny Boroughs, I love my Sister well; but it would be a high Compliment to any
Lady, to be deem'd worthy of a second or third Place after you.
    There is no answering such Politeness, said I: I am sure Lady Davers, was
very cruel to keep me from such kind Company. 'Twas our Loss, Madam, said Miss
Darnford. I'll allow it, said I, in Degree, Miss; for you have all been
deprived, several Hours, of an humble Admirer.
    Mr. Perry said, I never before saw so young a Lady shine forth with such
Graces of Mind and Person. Alas! Sir, said I, my Master coming up, Mine is but a
borrow'd Shine, like that of the Moon: Here is the Sun, to whose fervent Glow of
Generosity I owe all the faint Lustre that your Goodness is pleased to look upon
with so much kind Distinction.
    Mr. Perry was pleased to hold up his Hands; and the Ladies look'd upon one
another. And my Master said, hearing part of the last Sentence, What's the
pretty Subject, that my Pamela is displaying, so sweetly, her Talents upon?
    Oh! Sir, said Mr. Perry, I will pronounce you the happiest Gentleman in
England. And I, said Miss Boroughs; And I, said Miss Darnford; And I, said each
of the others.
    My Master said, most generously, Thank ye, Thank ye, Thank ye, all round, my
dear Friends. I know not your Subject; but if you believe me so, for a single
Instance of this dear Girl's Goodness, what must I think myself, when blessed with
a thousand Instances, and experiencing it in every single Act and Word! I do
assure you, my Pamela's Person, all lovely as you see it, is far short of her
Mind; That first impress'd me in her Favour; but that only made me her Lover:
But they were the Beauties of her Mind, that made me her Husband; and proud, my
sweet Dear, said he, pressing my Hand, am I of that Title.
    Well, said Mr. Perry, very kindly and politely, Excellent as your Lady is, I
know not the Gentleman that could deserve her, but that one, who could say such
just and such fine things.
    I was all abash'd; and took Miss Darnford's Hand, and said, Save me, dear
Miss, by your sweet Example, from my rising Pride. But could I deserve half
these kind things, what a happy Creature should I be! Said Miss Darnford, You
deserve them all, indeed you do.
    The greatest Part of the Company being sat down to Loo, my Master being
press'd, said, he would take one Game at Whist; but had rather be excused too,
having been up all Night; and I asked how his Friend did? We'll talk of that,
said he, another time; which, and his Seriousness, made me fear the poor
Gentleman was dead, as it prov'd.
    We cast in, and Miss Boroughs and my Master were together, and Mr. Perry and
I; and I had all four Honours the first time, and we were up at one Deal. Said
my Master, An honourable Hand, Pamela, should go with an honourable Heart; but
you'd not have been up, if a Knave had not been one. Whist, Sir, said Mr. Perry,
you know, was a Court Game originally, and the Knave, I suppose, signified
always the prime Minister.
    'Tis well, said my Master, if now there is but One Knave in a Court, out of
Four Persons, take the Court thro'.
    The King and Queen, Sir, said Mr. Perry, can do no Wrong, you know. So there
are Two that must be good out of Four; and the Ace seems too plain a Card to
mean much Hurt.
    We compliment the King, said my Master, in that manner; and 'tis well to do
so, because there is something sacred in the Character. But yet, if Force of
Example be consider'd, it is going a great way; for certainly a good Master
makes a good Servant, generally speaking.
    One thing, added he, in regard to the Ace; I have always look'd upon that
plain and honest-looking Card, in the Light you do. And have consider'd Whist as
an English Game in its Original; which has made me fonder of it than of any
other. For, by the Ace, I have always thought the Laws of the Land denoted; and,
as the Ace is above the King or Queen, and wins them; I think the Law should be
thought so too; tho', may-be, I shall be deem'd a Whig for my Opinion.
    I shall never play at Whist, said Mr. Perry, without thinking of this, and
shall love the Game the better for the Thought; tho' I am no Party-man. Nor I,
said my Master; for I think the Distinctions of Whig and Tory odious; and love
the one or the other, only as they are honest and worthy Men; and have never,
(nor ever shall, I hope) given a Vote, but according to what I thought was for
the public Good, let either Whig or Tory propose it.
    I wish, Sir, reply'd Mr. Perry, all Gentlemen, in your Station, would act
so. If there was no undue Influence, said my Master, I am willing to think so
well of all Mankind, that I believe they generally would.
    But you see, said he, by my Pamela's Hand, when all the Court-cards get
together, and are acted by one Mind, the Game is usually turn'd accordingly.
Tho' now-and-then, too, it may be so circumstanced, that Honours will do them no
Good; and they are forced to depend altogether upon Tricks.
    I thought this way of Talking prettier than the Game itself. But I said,
Tho' I have won the Game, I hope, Sirs, I am no Trickster. No, said my Master,
God forbid but Court-cards should sometimes win with Honour! But you see, for
all that, your Game is as much owing to the Knave, as the King; and you, my Fair
one, lost no Advantage, when it was put into your Power.
    Else, Sir, said I, I should not have done Justice to my Partner: You are
certainly right, Pamela, reply'd he; tho' you thereby beat your Husband. Sir,
said I, You may be my Partner next, and I must do Justice, you know. Well, said
he, always choose so worthy a Friend, as Chance has given you for a Partner, and
I shall never find Fault with you, do what you will.
    Mr. Perry said, You are very good to me, Sir; and Miss Boroughs, I observed,
seem'd pleas'd with the Compliment to her humble Servant; by which I saw she
esteem'd him, as he seems to deserve. Dear-sirs! said I, how much better is
this, than to be lock'd in by Lady Davers?
    The Supper was brought in sooner on my Account, because I had had no Dinner;
and there passed very agreeable Compliments on the Occasion. Lady Darnford would
help me first, because I had so long fasted, as she said. Sir Simon would have
placed himself next me: And my Master said, he thought it was best, where there
was an equal Number of Ladies and Gentlemen, that they should sit intermingled,
that the Gentlemen might be employ'd in helping and serving the Ladies. Lady
Darnford said, She hoped Sir Simon would not sit above any Ladies, at his own
Table especially. Well, said he, I shall sit over-against her however; and
that's as well.
    My dearest Sir could not keep his Eye off me, and seem'd generously to be
delighted with all I did, and all I said; and every one was pleased to see his
kind and affectionate Behaviour to me.
    Lady Jones brought up the Discourse about Lady Davers again; and my Master
said, I fear, Pamela, you have been hardly used, more than you'll say. I know my
Sister's passionate Temper too well, to believe she could be over-civil to you,
especially as it happen'd so unluckily that I was out. If, added he, she had had
no Pique to you, my Dear, yet what has passed between her and me, has so
exasperated her, that I know she would have quarrel'd with my Horse, if she had
thought I valued it, and nobody else was in her way. Dear Sir, said I, don't say
so of good Lady Davers.
    Said he, Why, my Dear, I know she came on purpose to quarrel; and had she
not found herself under a very violent Uneasiness, after what had passed between
us, and my Treatment of her Lord's Letter, she would not have offer'd to come
near me. What sort of Language had she for me, Pamela? O, Sir, very good, only
her well-manner'd Brother, and such as that!
    Only, said he, 'tis taking up the Attention of the Company disagreeably, or
I could tell you almost every Word she said. Lady Jones wish'd to hear a further
Account of my Lady's Conduct, and most of the Company join'd with her,
particularly Mrs. Peters; who said, That as they knew the Story, and Lady
Davers's Temper, tho' she was very good in the main, they could wish to be so
agreeably entertain'd, if he and I pleas'd; because they imagine'd I should have
no Difficulties after this.
    Tell me then, Pamela, said he, did she lift up her Hand at you? Did she
strike you? But I hope not! A little Slap of the Hand, said I, or so! - Insolent
Woman! She did not, I hope, offer to strike your Face? Why, said I, I was a
little saucy once or twice, and she would have given me a Cuff on the Ear, if
her Woman and Mrs. Jewkes had not interpos'd? Why did you not come out at the
Door? Because, said I, her Ladyship sat her Chair against it, one while, and
another while lock'd it; else I offer'd, several times, to get away.
    She knew I expected you here? You say, you show'd her my Letter to you? Yes,
Sir, said I; but I had better not; for she was then more exasperated, and made
strange Comments upon it. I doubt it not, said he; but, did she not see, by the
kind Epithets in it, that there was room to think we were marry'd? O, Sir,
reply'd I, and made the Company smile, she said, For that very Reason, she was
sure I was not marry'd.
    That's like my Sister! said he, exactly like her; and yet she lives very
happily herself. For her poor Lord never contradicts her. Indeed he dare not.
    You was a great many Wenches, was you not, my Dear? for that's a great Word
with her. - Yes, Sir, said I, Wenches and Creatures out of Number; and worse
than all that. What? tell me, my Dear. Sir, said I, I must not have you angry
with Lady Davers. While you are so good to me, 'tis all nothing, only the
Trouble that I cannot be suffer'd to show how much I honour her Ladyship, as
your Sister.
    Well, said he, you need not be afraid to tell me: I must love her, after
all; tho' I shall not be pleas'd with her on this Occasion. And I know it is her
mistaken Love for me, that makes her so uneasy; and, after all, she comes, I
know, to be reconciled to me; tho' it must be thro' a good hearty Quarrel first.
For she can show a deal of Sunshine; but it must be always after a Storm. And
I'll love her dearly, if she has not been, and will not be, too hard upon my
Dearest.
    Mr. Peters said, Sir, you are very good, and very kind. I love to see this
Complaisance to your Sister, tho' she be in Fault, so long as you can show it
with so much Justice to the sweetest Innocence and Merit in the World. By all
that's good, Mr. Peters, said he, I'd present my Sister with One thousand
Pounds, if she would kindly take my dear Pamela by the Hand, and wish her Joy,
and call her Sister! - And yet I should be unworthy of the dear Creature that
smiles upon me there, if it was not principally for her sake, and the Pleasure
it would give her, that I say this: For I will never be thoroughly reconciled to
my Sister, till she does; for I most sincerely think, as to myself, that my dear
Spouse, there she sits, does me more Honour in her new Relation, than she
receives from me!
    Sir, said I, I am overwhelm'd with your Goodness! - And my Eyes were filled
with Tears of Joy and Gratitude. And all the Company, with one Voice, blessed
him. And Lady Jones was pleased to say, The Company and Behaviour of you two
happy Ones to each other, are the most edifying I ever knew. I am always
improv'd when I see you. How happy would every good Lady be with such a
Gentleman, and every good Gentleman with such a Lady! - In short, you seem made
for one another.
    O, Madam, said I, you are so kind, so good to me, that I know not how to
thank you enough. Said she, You deserve more than I can express; for, to all who
know your Story, you are a matchless Person. You are an Ornament to our Sex, and
your Virtue, tho' your dear Spouse is so excellent and generous as he is, has
met with no more than its due Reward. And God long bless you together.
    You are, said my dearest Sir, very good to me, Madam, I am sure. I have
taken Liberties in my former Life, that deserved not so much Excellence. I have
offended extremely, by Trials glorious to my Pamela, but disgraceful to me,
against a Virtue that I now consider as almost sacred; and I shall not think I
deserve her, till I can bring my Manners, my Sentiments, and my Actions, to a
Conformity with her own. And, in short, my Pamela, said he, I want you to be
nothing but what you are, and have been. You cannot be better; and if you could,
it would be but filling me with Despair to attain the awful Heights of Virtue,
at which you are arrived. Perhaps, added the dear Gentleman, the Scene I have
beheld within these twelve-Hours, has made me more serious than otherwise I
should have been; but I'll assure you, before all this good Company, I speak the
Sentiments of my Heart; and those not of this Day only.
    What a happy Daughter is yours, O my dear Father and Mother! I owe it all to
God's Grace, and yours and my good Lady's Instructions; and to these let me
always look back with grateful Acknowledgments, that I may not impute to myself,
and be proud, my very great Happiness.
    The Company were so kindly pleas'd with our Concerns, and my dear Master's
Goodness, that he observing their Indulgence, and being himself curious to know
what had pass'd between my Lady and me, repeated his Question, What she had
call'd me besides Wench and Creature? And I said, My Lady, supposing I was
wicked, lamented over me very kindly, my Depravity and Fall, and said what a
thousand Pities it was, so much Virtue, as she was pleas'd to say, was so
destroy'd, and that I had yielded after so noble a Stand, as she said.
    Excuse me, Gentlemen and Ladies, said I; you know my Story, it seems; and I
am commanded by one, who has a Title to all my Obedience, to proceed.
    They gave all of them Bows of Approbation, that they might not interrupt me;
and I continued my Story. -
    I told her Ladyship, continued I, that I was still innocent, and would be
so, and it was injurious to suppose me otherwise! Why, tell me, Wench, said she,
- but I think I must not tell you what she said. Yes, do, said my Master, to
clear my Sister; we shall think it very bad else.
    I held my Hand before my Face, and said, Why, she said, Tell me, Wench, hast
thou not been a-bed with thy Master! - That she said. - And when I said, she
ask'd strange Questions, and in strange Words, she ridicul'd my Delicacy, as she
call'd it, and said my Niceness would not last long. She said, I must know I was
not really marry'd, that my Ring was only a Sham, and all was my Cunning to
cloak my yielding, and get better Terms: She said, she knew the World as much at
Thirty-two, as I did at Sixteen; and bid me remember that.
    I took the Liberty to say, (but I got a good way off) That I scorn'd her
Ladyship's Words, and was as much marry'd as her Ladyship. And then, Good-sirs,
I had certainly been cuff'd, if her Woman had not interposed, and told her I was
not worth her Anger; and that I was as much to be pitied for my Credulity, as
despis'd for my Vanity.
    My poor Pamela, said my Master, this was too-too hard upon you! O Sir, said
I, how much easier it was to me, than if it had been so! - That would have broke
my Heart quite! - For then I should have deserve'd it all, and worse; and these
Reproaches, added to my own Guilt, would have made me truly wretched!
    Lady Darnford, at whose Right-hand I sat, kissed me with a kind of Rapture,
and call'd me a sweet Exemplar for all my Sex. Mr. Peters said very handsome
Things. So did Mr. Perry; and Sir Simon had Tears in his Eyes, and said to my
Master, Why, Neighbour, Neighbour, this is excellent, by my Troth. I believe
there is something in Virtue, that we had not well considered. On my Soul there
has been but one Angel come down for these thousand Years, and you have got her.
    Well, my Dearest, said my Master, pray proceed with your Story till we have
done Supper, since the Ladies seem pleas'd with it. Why, Sir, said I, her
Ladyship went on in the same manner; but said one time, (and held me by the
Hand) she would give me a hundred Guineas for one provoking Word, or if I would
but say, I believe'd myself marry'd, that she might fell me at her Foot. But,
Sir, you must not be angry with her Ladyship. She call'd me Painted Dirt,
Baby-face, Waiting-maid, Beggar-brat, and Beggar-born; but I said, as long as I
knew my Innocence, I was easy in every thing, but to have my dear Parents
abused. I said, they were never Beggars, nor beholden to any body; nor to any
thing but God's Grace, and their own Labour: That they once lived in Credit;
that Misfortunes might befal any body; and that I could not bear they should be
treated so undeservedly.
    Then her Ladyship said, Ay, she supposed my Master's Folly would make us now
set up for a Family, and that the Herald's Office would shortly be search'd to
make it out.
    Exactly my Sister again! said he. So you could not please her any way?
    No, indeed, Sir. When she commanded me to fill her a Glass of Wine, and
would not let her Woman do it, she ask'd, If I was above it? I then said, If, to
attend your Ladyship at Table, or even kneel at your Feet, was require'd of me, I
would most gladly do it, were I only the Person you think me. But, if it be to
triumph over one, who has received Honours that she thinks require from her
another Part, that she may not be utterly unworthy of them, I must say, I cannot
do it. This quite astonish'd her Ladyship; and a little before, her Kinsman
brought me the Bottle and Glass, and require'd me to fill it for my Lady at her
Command, and call'd himself my Deputy; and I said, 'Tis in a good Hand; help my
Lady yourself. So, Sir, added I, you see I could be a little saucy upon
Occasion.
    You please me well, my Pamela, said he. This was quite right. But proceed.
    Her Ladyship said, She was astonish'd! adding, she suppose'd I would have her
look upon me as her Brother's Wife: And ask'd me, What, in the Name of
Impudence, possessed me, to dare to look upon myself as her Sister! And I said,
That was a Question better became her most worthy Brother to answer than me. And
then I thought I should have had her Ladyship upon me; but her Woman interposed.
    I afterwards told Mrs. Jewkes at the Window, That since I was hinder'd from
going to you, I believe'd it was best to let Robert go with the Chariot, and say,
Lady Davers was come, and I could not leave her Ladyship. But this did not
please, and I thought it would, too; for she said, No, no, he'll think I make
the Creature my Companion, and know not how to part with her.
    Exactly, said he, my Sister again!
    And she said, I knew nothing what belong'd to People of Condition; how
should I? - What shall I say, Madam? said I. Nothing at all, answer'd she; let
him expect his dearest Love, alluding to your kind Epithet in your Letter, and
be disappointed; it is but adding a few more Hours to this heavy Absence, and
every one will become a Day in his amorous Account.
    So, to be short, I saw nothing to be done, and I fear'd, Sir, you would
wonder at my Stay, and be angry; and I watch'd my Opportunity, while my Lady,
who was walking about the Room, was at the further End; and the Parlour being a
Ground-floor in a manner, I jump'd out of the Window, and run for it.
    Her Ladyship call'd after me; so did her Woman; and I heard her say, I flew
like a Bird; and she call'd to two of her Servants in Sight to stop me; but I
said, Touch me at your Peril, Fellows. And Mr. Colbrand having been planted at
hand by Mrs. Jewkes, (who was very good in the whole Affair, and incurr'd her
Ladyship's Displeasure, once or twice, by taking my Part, seeing how I was us'd)
put on a fierce Look, cock'd his Hat with one Hand, and put t'other on his
Sword, and said, He would chine the Man who offer'd to touch his Lady; And so he
ran a long-side of me, and could hardly keep Pace with me: - And here, my dear
Sir, concluded I, I am, at yours, and the good Company's Service.
    They seem'd highly pleas'd with my Relation; and my Master said, he was glad
Mrs. Jewkes behave'd so well, as also Mr. Colbrand. Yes, Sir, said I, when Mrs.
Jewkes interposed once, her Ladyship said, It was hard, she, who was born in
that House, could not have some Privilege in it, without being talk'd to by the
saucy Servants. And she call'd her another time Fat-face, and woman'd her most
violently.
    Well, said my Master, I am glad, my Dear, you have had such an Escape. My
Sister was always passionate, as Mrs. Peters knows. And my poor Mother had
enough to do with us both. For we neither of us wanted Spirit; and when I was a
Boy, I never came home from School or College, for a few Days, but tho' we
long'd to see one another before, yet ere the first Day was over, we had a
Quarrel; for she being seven Years older than me, was always for domineering
over me, and I could not bear it. And I used, on her frequently quarrelling with
the Maids, and being always a Word and a Blow, to call her Captain Bab, for her
Name is Barbara. And when my Lord Davers courted her, my poor Mother has made up
Quarrels between them three times in a Day; and I used to tell her, she would
certainly beat her Husband, marry whom she would, if he did not beat her first,
and break her Spirit.
    Yet has she, continued he, very good Qualities. She was a dutiful Daughter,
is a good Wife; she is bountiful to her Servants, firm in her Friendships,
charitable to the Poor, and, I believe, never any Sister better loved a Brother,
than she me: And yet, she always love'd to vex and tease me; and as I would bear
a Resentment longer than she, she'd be one Moment the most provoking Creature in
the World, and the next would do any thing to be forgiven; and I have made her,
when she was the Aggressor, follow me all over the House and Garden to be upon
good Terms with me.
    But this Case piques her the more, because she had found out a Match for me,
in the Family of a Person of Quality, and had set her Heart upon bringing it to
Effect, and had even proceeded far in it, without my Knowledge, and brought me
into the Lady's Company, unknowing of her Design: But I was then averse to
Matrimony at all; and was angry at her proceeding in it so far without my
Privity or Encouragement: And she cannot, for this Reason, bear the Thoughts of
my being now marry'd; and to her Mother's Waiting-maid too, as she reminds my
dear Pamela, when I had decline'd her Proposal with the Daughter of a noble Earl.
    This is the whole Case, said he; and allowing for the Pride and Violence of
her Spirit, and that she knows not, as I do, the transcendent Excellencies of my
dear Spouse, and that all her View, in her own Conception, is, mine and my
Family's Honour, she is a little to be allow'd for. Tho' never fear, my Pamela,
but that I, who never had a Struggle with her, that I did not get the better,
will do you Justice, and myself too.
    This Account of Lady Davers pleas'd every body, and was far from being to
her Ladyship's Disadvantage in the main: And I would do any thing in the World
to have the Honour to be in her Ladyship's good Graces. Yet I fear it will not
be easily, if at all effected. But I will proceed:
    After Supper, nothing would serve Miss Darnford and Miss Boroughs, but we
must have a Dance, and Mr. Peters, who plays a good Fiddle, urg'd it forward; my
dear Master, tho' in a Riding-dress, dance?'d (and dance?'d sweetly) with Miss
Boroughs.
    Sir Simon, for a Gentleman of his Years, dance?'d well, and took me out; but
put on one of his free Jokes, that I was fitter to dance with a younger
Gentleman; and he would have it, tho' I had not dance?'d since my dear Lady's
Death to signify, except once or twice to please Mrs. Jervis, and indeed
believe'd all my dancing Days over, that as my Master and I were the best
Dancers, we should dance once together before Folks, as the odd Gentleman said;
and my dear Sir was pleas'd to oblige him: And he afterwards dance?'d with Miss
Darnford, who I think has much more Skill and judgement than I; tho' they
compliment me with an easier Shape and Air.
    We left the Company, with great Difficulty, at about Eleven, my dear Master
having been up all Night before, and we being at the greatest Distance from
Home; tho' they seem'd inclinable not to break up so soon, as they were
Neighbours; and the Ladies said they long'd to hear what would be the End of
Lady Davers's Interview with her Brother.
    My Master said, He fear'd we must not now think of going next Day to
Bedfordshire, as we had intended, and perhaps might see them again. And so we
took Leave, and set out for Home; where we arrive'd not till Twelve o'Clock; and
found Lady Davers had gone to Bed about Eleven, wanting sadly that we should
come home first; but so did not I.
    Mrs. Jewkes told us, That my Lady was sadly fretted, that I had got away so;
and seem'd a little apprehensive of what I would say of the Usage I had receive'd
from her. She ask'd Mrs. Jewkes, If she thought I was really marry'd? And Mrs.
Jewkes telling her, Yes, she fell into a Passion, and said, Begone, bold Woman;
I cannot bear thee. See not my Face till I send for thee. Thou hast been very
impudent to me once or twice to-day already, and art now worse than ever. She
said, She would not have told her Ladyship, if she had not ask'd her; and was
sorry she had offended.
    She sent for her at Supper-time; Said she, I have another Question to ask
thee, Woman, and tell me Yes, if thou darest. Was ever any thing so odd? - Why
then, said Mrs. Jewkes, I will say No, before your Ladyship speaks. - My Master
laugh'd, Poor Woman! said he. - She call'd her insolent, and Assurance; and
said, Begone, bold Woman as thou art; - but come hither. Dost thou know if that
young Harlot is to lie with my Brother to-night?
    She said, she knew not what to answer, because she had threaten'd her, if
she said Yes. But at last, my Lady said, I will know the Bottom of this
Iniquity. I suppose they won't have so much Impudence to lie together, while I'm
in the House; but I dare say they have been Bedfellows.
    Said she, I will lie to-night in the Room I was born in; so get that Bed
ready. That Room being our Bed-chamber, Mrs. Jewkes, after some Hesitation,
reply'd, Madam, my Master lies there, and has the Key. I believe, Woman, said
she, thou tellest me a Story. Indeed Madam, said she, he does; and has some
Papers there he will let nobody see; for Mrs. Jewkes said, she fear'd she would
beat her, if she went up, and found by my clothes, and some of my Master's, how
it was.
    So she said, I will then lie in the best Room, as it is called; and Jackey
shall lie in the little green Room adjoining to it. Has thy Master got the Key
of those? - No, Madam, said Mrs. Jewkes; I will order them to be made ready for
your Ladyship.
    And where dost thou lay thy pursy Sides, said she? Up two Pair of Stairs,
Madam, next the Garden. And where lies the young Harlotry, continued she?
Sometimes with me, Madam, said she. And sometimes with thy virtuous Master, I
suppose, said my Lady. - Ha, Woman! what say'st thou? I must not speak, said
Mrs. Jewkes. Well, thou mayst go, said she; but thou hast the Air of a
Secret-keeper of that sort: I dare say thou'lt set the good Work forward most
cordially. Poor Mrs. Jewkes! said my Master, and laugh'd most heartily.
    This Talk we had whilst we were undressing. So she and her Woman lay
together in the Room my Master lay in before I was happy.
    I said, Dear Sir, pray in the Morning let me lock myself up in the Closet,
as soon as you rise; and not be call'd down for ever so much; for I am afraid to
see her Ladyship: And I will employ myself about my Journal, while these Things
are in my Head. Don't be afraid, my Dear, said he; am not I with you?
    Mrs. Jewkes pity'd me for what I had undergone in the Day; and I said, We
won't make the worst of it to my dear Master, because we won't exasperate where
we would reconcile; but, added I, I am much oblige'd to you, Mrs. Jewkes, and I
thank you. Said my Master, I hope she did not beat your Lady, Mrs. Jewkes? Not
much, Sir, said she; but I believe I save'd my Lady once: Yet, added she, I was
most vex'd at the young Lord. Ay, Mrs. Jewkes, said my Master, let me know his
Behaviour. I can chastise him, tho' I cannot my Sister, who is a Woman; let me
therefore know the Part he acted.
    Nothing, my dear Sir, said I, but Impertinence, if I may so say, and
Foolishness, that was very provoking; but I spared him not, and so there is no
Room, Sir, for your Anger. No, Sir, said Mrs. Jewkes, nothing else indeed.
    How was her Woman? said my Master. Pretty impertinent, reply'd Mrs. Jewkes,
as Ladies Women will be. But, said I, you know she save'd me once or twice. Very
true, Madam, return'd Mrs. Jewkes. And she said to me at Table, continued she,
that you was a sweet Creature; she never saw your Equal; but that you had a
Spirit, and she was sorry you answer'd her Lady so, who never bore so much
Contradiction before. I told her, added Mrs. Jewkes, that if I was in your
Ladyship's Place, I should have taken much more upon me, and that you was all
Sweetness. And she said, I was got over, she saw.
 

                  Tuesday Morning, the Sixth of my Happiness.

My Master had said to Mrs. Jewkes, That he should not rise till Eight or Nine,
as he had sat up all the Night before; but it seems, my Lady, knowing he usually
rose about Six, got up soon after that Hour, raise'd her Woman, and her Nephew;
having a whimsical Scheme in her Head, to try to find whether we were in Bed
together: And at about half an Hour after Six, she rapt at our Chamber-door.
    My Master was wak'd at the Noise, and asked who was there? Open the Door,
said she; open it this Minute! I said, clinging about his Neck, Dear, dear Sir,
pray, pray don't! - O save me, save me! Don't fear, Pamela, said he. The Woman's
mad, I believe.
    But he call'd out, Who are you? What do you want? - You know my Voice well
enough, said she! - I will come in! - Pray, Sir, said I, don't let her Ladyship
in. - Don't be frighted, my Dear, said he; she thinks we are not marry'd, and
are afraid to be found a-bed together. I'll let her in; but she shan't come near
my Dearest.
    So he splipped out of Bed, and putting on some of his clothes, and Gown, and
Slippers, he said, What bold body dares disturb my Repose thus? and open'd the
Door. In rush'd she; I'll see your Wickedness, said she, I will! In vain shall
you think to hide it from me! - What should I hide? said he. How dare you set a
Foot into my House after the Usage I have receive'd from you? - I had cover'd
myself over Head and Ears, and trembled every Joint. He look'd and 'spy'd her
Woman, and Kinsman, in the Room, she crying out, Bear Witness, Jackey: bear
Witness, Beck; the Creature is now in his Bed. And not seeing the young
Gentleman before, who was at the Feet of the Bed, he said, How now, Sir? What's
your Business in this Apartment! Begone this Moment! - And he went away
directly.
    Beck, said my Lady, you see the Creature is in his Bed. I do, Madam,
answer'd she. My Master came to me, and said, Ay look, Beck, and bear Witness;
here is my Pamela! - My dear Angel, my lovely Creature, don't be afraid; look
up, and see how frantickly this Woman of Quality behaves.
    At that I just peep'd, and saw my Lady, who could not bear this, coming to
me; and she said, Wicked abandon'd Wretch, vile Brother, to brave me thus! I'll
tear the Creature out of Bed before your Face, and expose you both as you
deserve.
    At that he took her in his Arms, as if she had been nothing, and carrying
her out of the Room, she cry'd out, Beck, Beck! help me, Beck; the Wretch is
going to fling me down Stairs. Her Woman ran to him, and said, Good Sir, for
God's sake, do no Violence to my Lady: Her Ladyship has been ill all Night.
    He sat her down in the Chamber she lay in, and she could not speak for
Passion. Take care of your Lady, said he; and when she has render'd herself more
worthy of my Attention, I'll see her; till then, at her Peril, and yours too,
come not near my Apartment. And so he came to me, and with all the sweet
soothing Words in the world, pacify'd my Fears, and gave me Leave to go to write
in my Closet, as soon as my Fright was over, and to stay there till Things were
more calm. And so he dress'd himself, and went out of the Chamber, permitting
me, at my Desire, to fasten the Door after him.
    At Breakfast-time my Master tapp'd at the Door, and I said, Who's there? I,
my Dearest, said he. Oh! then, reply'd I, will I open it with Pleasure. I had
wrote on a good deal; but I put it by when I ran to the Door. I would have
lock'd it again, when he was in; but he said, Am not I here! Don't be afraid.
Said he, Will you come down to Breakfast, my Love? O no, dear Sir, said I; be
pleas'd to excuse me. Said he, I cannot bear the Look of it, that the Mistress
of my House should breakfast in her Closet, as if she durst not come down, and I
in it! - O dearest Sir, reply'd I, pray pass that over for my sake; and don't
let my Presence aggravate your Sister, for a kind Punctilio. Then, my Dear, said
he, I shall breakfast with you here. No, pray, dear Sir, answer'd I, breakfast
with your Sister. That, my Dear, reply'd he, will too much gratify her Pride,
and look like a Slight to you. - Dear Sir, said I, your Goodness is too great,
for me to want punctilious Proofs of it. Pray oblige her Ladyship. She is your
Guest; surely, Sir, you may be freest with your dutiful Wife!
    She is a strange Woman, said he: How I pity her! - She has thrown herself
into a violent Fit of the Colick, thro' Passion: And is but now, her Woman says,
a little easier. I hope, Sir, said I, when you carry'd her Ladyship out, you did
not hurt her. No, reply'd he, I love her too well. I sat her down in the
Apartment she had chosen; and she but now desires to see me, and that I will
breakfast with her, or refuses to touch any thing. But, if my Dearest please, I
will insist it shall be with you at the same time.
    O no, no, dear Sir, said I; I should never forgive myself, if I did. I would
on my Knees beg her Ladyship's Goodness to me, now I am in your Presence, tho' I
thought I ought to carry it a little stiff when you was absent, for the sake of
the Honour you had done me. And, dear Sir, if my deepest Humility will please,
permit me to show it.
    You shall do nothing, return'd he, unworthy of my Wife, to please the proud
Woman! - But I will, however, permit you to breakfast by yourself this once, as
I have not seen her since I have used her in so barbarous a manner, as I
understand she exclaims I have; and as she will not eat any thing, unless I give
her my Company. - So he saluted me, and withdrew, and I lock'd the Door after
him again for Fear.
    Mrs. Jewkes, soon after, rapp'd at my Door. Who's there? said I. Only I,
Madam. So I open'd the Door. 'Tis a sad Thing, Madam, said she, you should be so
much afraid in your own House. She brought me some Chocolate and Toast; and I
ask'd her about my Lady's Behaviour. She said, She would not suffer any body to
attend but her Woman, because she would not be heard what she had to say; but
she believe'd, she said, her Master was very angry with the young Lord, as she
call'd her Kinsman; for as she pass'd by the Door, she heard him say, in a high
Tone, I hope, Sir, you did not forget what belongs to the Character you assume:
or to that Effect. -
    About one o'Clock, my Master came up again, and he said, Will you come down
to Dinner, Pamela, when I send for you? Whatever you command, Sir, I must do:
But my Lady won't desire to see me. No matter whether she will or no. But I will
not suffer that she shall prescribe her insolent Will to my Wife, and in your
own House too. - I will by my Tenderness to you, mortify her Pride, and it
cannot be done so well as to her Face.
    Dearest Sir, said I, pray indulge me, and let me dine here by myself. It
will make my Lady but more inveterate. - Said he, I have told her we are
marry'd. She is out of all Patience about it, and yet pretends not to believe
it. Upon that I tell her, Then she shall have it her own way, and that I am not.
And what has she to do with it either way? She has scolded and begg'd, commanded
and pray'd, bless'd me, and curs'd me, by Turns, twenty times, in these few
Hours. And I have sometimes soothed her, sometimes storm'd at her, sometimes
argued, sometimes raged; and at last I left her, and took a Turn in the Garden
for an Hour to compose myself, because you should not see how the foolish Woman
ruffled me; and just now, I came out, seeing her coming in.
    Just as he had said so, I cry'd, Oh! my Lady, my Lady! for I heard her Voice
in the Chamber, saving. Brother, Brother, one Word with you! - Stopping in Sight
of the Closet where I was. He stepped out, and she went up to the Window that
looks towards the Garden, and said, Mean Fool that I am, to follow you up and
down the House in this manner, tho' I am shunn'd and avoided by you! You a
Brother! - you a Barbarian! - Is it possible we could be born of one Mother?
    Why, said he, do you charge me with a Conduct to you, that you bring upon
yourself? - Is it not surprising, that you should take Liberties with me, that
the dear Mother you have nam'd, never gave you an Example for to any of her
Relations? - Was it not sufficient, that I was insolently taken to Task by you
in your Letters, but my Retirements must be invaded? My House insulted? And, if
I have one Person dearer to me than another, that that Person must be singled
out for an Object of Violence?
    Ay, said she, that one Person is the Thing! - But tho' I came up with a
Resolution to be temperate, and to expostulate with you on your avoiding me so
unkindly, yet cannot I have Patience to look upon that Bed in which I was born,
and to be made the guilty Scene of your Wickedness with such a -
    Huh! said he, I charge you, call not the dear Girl by any Name unworthy of
her. You know not, as I told you, her Excellence; and I desire you'll not repeat
the Freedoms you have taken below.
    She stamp'd with her Foot, and said, God give me Patience! So much Contempt
to a Sister that loves you so well; and so much Tenderness to a vile -
    He put his Hand before her Mouth, Be silent, said he, once more, I charge
you. You know not the Innocence you abuse so freely; I ought not, neither will I
bear it.
    She sat down, and fann'd herself, and burst into Tears, and such Sobs of
Grief, or rather Passion, that grieve'd me to hear; and I sat and trembled sadly.
-
    He walk'd about the Room, in great Anger; and at last said, Let me ask you,
Lady Davers, why I am thus insolently to be called to Account by you. Am I not
independent? Am I not of Age? Am I not at Liberty to please myself? - Would to
God, that instead of a Woman and my Sister, any Man breathing had dar'd,
whatever his Relation under that of a Father, to give himself half the Airs you
have done! - Why did you not send of this accursed Errand your Lord, who could
write me such a Letter as no Gentleman should write, nor any Gentleman tamely
receive? He should have seen the Difference.
    We all know, said she, that since your Italian Duel, you have commenc'd a
Bravo; and all your Airs breathe as strongly of the Man-slayer as of the
Libertine. This, said he, I will bear; for I have no Reason to be asham'd of
that Duel, nor the Cause of it; since it was to save a Friend; and because 'tis
levell'd at myself only: But suffer not your Tongue to take too great a Liberty
with my Pamela.
    She interrupted him, in a violent Burst of Passion. If I bear this, said
she, I can bear any thing! - O the little Strumpet! - He interrupted her then,
and said wrathfully, Begone, rageful Woman, begone this Moment from my Presence!
Leave my House this Instant! - I renounce you, and all Relation to you; and
never more let me see your Face, or call me Brother. And took her by the Hand to
lead her out. She laid hold of the Curtains of the Window, and said, I will not
go! you shall not force me from you thus ignominiously in the Wretch's Hearing,
and suffer her to triumph over me in your barbarous Treatment of me.
    Not considering any thing, I run out of the Closet, and threw myself at my
dear Master's Feet, as he held her Hand, in order to lead her out; and I said,
Dearest Sir, let my beg, that no Act of Unkindness, for my sake, pass between so
worthy and so near Relations. Dear, dear Madam, said I, and clasp'd her Knees,
pardon and excuse the unhappy Cause of all this Evil; on my Knees I beg your
Ladyship to receive me to your Grace and Favour, and you shall find me incapable
of any Triumph but in your Ladyship's Goodness to me.
    Creature, said she, art thou to beg an Excuse for me! - Art thou to implore
my Forgiveness! Is it to thee I am to owe the Favour that I am not cast headlong
from my Brother's Presence! Begone to thy Corner, Wench; begone, I say, lest thy
Paramour kill me for trampling thee under my Foot.
    Rise, my dear Pamela, said my Master; rise, dear Life of my Life, and expose
not so much Worthiness to the ingrateful Scorn of so violent a Spirit. And so he
led me to my Closet again, and there I sat and wept.
    Her Woman came up, just as he had led me to my Closet, and was returning to
her Lady; and she very humbly said, Excuse my Intrusion, good Sir! - I hope I
may come to my Lady. Yes, Mrs. Worden, said he, you may come in, and pray take
your Lady down Stairs with you, for fear I should too much forget what belongs
either to my Sister or myself!
    I began to think (seeing her Ladyship so outrageous with her Brother) what a
happy Escape I had had the Day before, tho' hardly enough us'd in Conscience
too, as I thought.
    Her Woman begg'd her Ladyship to walk down, and she said, Beck, seest thou
that Bed? That was the Bed that I was born in; and yet that was the Bed, thou
sawest as well as I, the wicked Pamela in this Morning, and this Brother of mine
just risen from her!
    True, said he; you both saw it, and 'tis my Pride that you could see it.
'Tis my Bridal-bed, and 'tis abominable, that the Happiness I knew before you
came hither, should be so barbarously interrupted.
    Swear to me but, thou bold Wretch, said she; swear to me, that Pamela
Andrews is really and truly thy lawful Wife, without Sham, without Deceit,
without Double-meaning, and I know what I have to say.
    I'll humour you for one once, said he; and then swore a solemn Oath, that I
was. And, said he, did I not tell you so at first?
    I cannot yet believe you, said she, because, in this Particular, I had
rather have called you Knave than Fool. - Provoke me not too much, said he; for
if I should as much forget myself as you have done, you'd have no more of a
Brother in me, than I have a Sister in you!
    Who marry'd you? said she; tell me that: Was it not a broken Attorney in a
Parson's Habit? Tell me truly, in the Wench's Hearing. When she's undeceived,
she'll know how to behave herself better! Thank God, thought I, it is not so.
    No, said he, and I'll tell you, that I bless God, I abhorred that Project,
before it was brought to bear; and Mr. Williams marry'd us. - Nay then, said she
- but answer me another Question or two, I beseech you. Who gave her away?
Parson Peters, said he. Where was the Ceremony perform'd? In my own little
Chapel, which you may see, as it was put in Order on purpose.
    Now, said she, I begin to fear there is something in it! But who was
present? said she. Methinks, reply'd he, I look like a fine Puppy, to suffer
myself to be thus interrogated by an insolent Sister. But, if you must know,
Mrs. Jewkes was present. O the Procuress, said she! But nobody else? Yes, said
he, all my Heart and Soul!
    Wretch! said she! And what would thy Father and Mother have said, had they
lived to this Day? Their Consents, reply'd he, I should have thought it my Duty
to ask; but not yours, Madam.
    Suppose, said she, I had marry'd my Father's Groom! what would you have said
to that? - I could not have behave'd worse, reply'd he, than you have done. And
would you not have thought, said she, I had deserve'd it?
    Said he, Does your Pride let you see no Difference in the Case you put? None
at all, said she. Where can the Difference be between a Beggar's Son marry'd by
a Lady; or a Beggar's Daughter made a Gentleman's Wife?
    Then I'll tell you, reply'd he: The Difference is, a Man ennobles the Woman
he takes, be she who she will; and adopts her into his own Rank, be it what it
will: But a Woman, tho' ever so nobly born, debases herself by a mean Marriage,
and descends from her own Rank, to his she stoops to.
    When the noble Family of Stuart ally'd itself into the low Family of Hyde,
(comparatively low, I mean) did any body scruple to call the Lady Royal
Highness, and Duchess of York? And did any body think her Daughters, the late
Queen Mary and Queen Anne, less Royal for that?
    When the broken-fortun'd Peer goes into the City to marry a rich Tradesman's
Daughter, be he Duke or Earl, does not his Consort immediately become ennobled
by his Choice? and who scruples to call her Lady Duchess, or Countess?
    But when a Duchess, or Countess Dowager, descends to mingle with a Person of
obscure Birth, does she not then degrade herself? and is she not effectually
degraded? And will any Duchess or Countess rank with her?
    Now, Lady Davers, do you not see a Difference between my marrying my dear
Mother's beloved and deserving Waiting-maid, with a Million of Excellencies
about her, and such Graces of Mind and Person, as would adorn any Distinction;
and your marrying a sordid Groom, whose constant Train of Education,
Conversation, and Opportunities, could possibly give him no other Merit, than
that which must proceed from the vilest lowest Taste, in his sordid Dignifier?
    O the Wretch! said she, how he finds Excuses to palliate his Meanness!
    Again, said he, let me observe to you, Lady Davers, when a Duke marries a
private Person, is he not still her Head, by virtue of being her Husband? But,
when a Lady descends to marry a Groom, is not that Groom her Head, as her
Husband? And does not that Difference strike you? For what Lady of Quality ought
to respect another, who has made so sordid a Choice, and set a Groom above her?
For, would not that be to put that Groom upon a Par with themselves? - Call this
Palliation, or what you will; but if you see not the Difference, you are blind,
and a very unfit Judge for yourself, much more unfit to be a Censurer of me.
    I'd have you, said she, publish your fine Reasons to the World, and they
will be sweet Encouragements to all the young Gentlemen that read them, to cast
themselves away on the Servant-wenches in their Families.
    Not at all, Lady Davers, reply'd he: For, if any young Gentleman stays till
he finds such a Person as my Pamela; so inrich'd with the Beauties of Person and
Mind, so well accomplish'd, and so fitted to adorn the Degree she is raised to,
he will stand as easily acquitted, as I shall be to all the World that sees her,
except there be many more Lady Davers's than I apprehend can possibly be met
with.
    And so, return'd she, you say, You are actually and really marry'd,
honestly, or rather foolishly, marry'd to this Slut?
    I am indeed, said he, if you presume to call her so! And why should I not,
if I please? Who is there ought to contradict me? Whom have I hurt by it? - Have
I not an Estate, free and independent? Am I likely to be beholden to you, or any
of my Relations? And why, when I have a Sufficiency in my own single Hands,
should I scruple to make a Woman equally happy, who has all I want? For Beauty,
Virtue, Prudence, and Generosity too, I will tell you, she has more than any
Lady I ever saw. Yes, Lady Davers, she has all these naturally; they are born
with her; and a few Years Education, with her Genius, has done more for her,
than a whole Life has done for others.
    No more, no more, I beseech you, said she; thou surfeitest me, honest Man,
with thy weak Folly. Thou are worse than an Idolater; thou hast made a graven
Image, and thou fallest down and worshippest the Works of thine own Hands; and,
Jeroboam like, would have every body else bow down before thy Calf!
    Well said, Lady Davers! Whenever your Passion suffers you to descend to
Witticism, 'tis almost over with you. But, let me tell you, tho' I worship
myself this sweet Creature that you call such Names, I want nobody else to do
it; and should be glad you had not intruded upon me, to interrupt me in the
Course of our mutual Happiness.
    Well said, well said, my kind, my well-manner'd Brother! said she. I shall,
after this, very little interrupt your mutual Happiness, I'll assure you. I
thought you a Gentleman once, and prided myself in my Brother; but I'll say with
the Burial Service, Ashes to Ashes, and Dirt to Dirt!
    Ay, said he, Lady Davers, and there we must all end at last; you with all
your Pride, and I with my plentiful Fortune, must come to it; and then where
will be your Distinction? Let me tell you, except you and I both mend our
Manners, tho' you have been no Duellist, no Libertine, as you call me, this
amiable Girl, whom your Vanity and Folly so much despises, will out-soar us
both, infinitely out-soar us; and He that judges best, will give the Preference
where due, without Regard to Birth or Fortune.
    Egregious Preacher, said she! What, my Brother already turn'd Puritan! - See
what Marriage and Repentance may bring a Man to! I heartily congratulate this
Change! - Well, said she, and came towards me, and I trembled to see her coming;
but her Brother followed to observe her, and I stood up at her Approach, and she
said, Give me thy Hand, Mrs. Pamela, Mrs. Andrews, Mrs. -- what shall I call
thee! - Thou hast done Wonders in a little time: Thou hast not only made a Rake
a Husband; but thou hast made a Rake a Preacher! But take care, added she, after
all, in ironical Anger, and tapp'd me on the Neck, take care that thy Vanity
begins not where his ends; and that thou callest not thyself my Sister!
    She shall, I hope, Lady Davers, said he, when she can make as great a
Convert of you from Pride, as she has of me from Libertinism.
    Mrs. Jewkes just then came up, and said, Dinner was ready. Come, my Pamela,
said my dear Master; you desired to be excuse'd from breakfasting with us; but I
hope you'll give Lady Davers and me your Company to Dinner.
    How dare you insult me thus? said my Lady. - How dare you, said he, insult
me by your Conduct in my own House, after I have told you I am marry'd? How dare
you think of staying here one Moment, and refuse my Wife the Honours that belong
to her, as such?
    Merciful God! said she, give me Patience! and held her Hand to her Forehead.
    Pray, Sir, dear Sir, said I, excuse me; don't vex my Lady. - Be silent, my
dear Love, said he; you see already what you have got by your sweet
Condescension. You have thrown yourself at her Feet, and, insolent as she is,
she has threaten'd to trample upon you. She'll ask you presently, if she is to
owe her Excuse to your Interposition; and yet nothing else can make her
forgiven.
    Poor Lady! she could not bear this, and, as if she was discomposed, she ran
to her poor grieved Woman, and took hold of her Hand, and said, Lead me down,
lead me down, Beck! Let us instantly quit this House, this cursed House, that
once I took Pleasure in; order the Fellows to get ready, and I will never see
it, nor its Owner, more. And away she went down Stairs, in a great Hurry. And
the Servants were order'd to make ready for their Departure.
    I saw my Master was troubled, and I went to him, and I said, Pray, dear Sir,
follow my Lady down, and pacify her. 'Tis her Love to you. - Poor Woman! said
he, I am concern'd for her! But I insist upon your coming down, since Things are
gone so far. Her Pride will get new Strength else, and we shall be all to begin
again.
    Dearest, dear Sir, said I, excuse me going down this once! Indeed, my Dear,
I won't, reply'd he. What! shall it be said, that my Sister shall scare my Wife
from my Table, and I present? - No, I have borne too much already; and so have
you. And I charge you come down, when I send for you.
    He departed, saying these Words, and I durst not dispute; for I saw, he was
determin'd. And there is as much Majesty as Goodness in him; as I have often had
Reason to observe, tho' never more, than on the present Occasion with his
Sister. Her Ladyship instantly put on her Hood and Gloves, and her Woman ty'd up
a Handkerchief full of Things; for her principal Matters were not unpack'd, and
her Coachman got her Chariot ready, and her Footmen their Horses, and she
appear'd resolved to go. But her Kinsman and Mr. Colbrand had taken a Turn
together, some-where; and she would not come in, but sat fretting on a Seat in
the Fore-yard, with her Woman by her; and at last said, to one of the Footmen,
Do you, James, stay, to attend my Nephew; and we'll take the Road we came.
    Mrs. Jewkes went to her Ladyship, and said, Your Ladyship will be pleas'd to
stay Dinner; 'tis just coming upon Table. No, said she, I have enough of this
House! I have indeed. But give my Service to your Master, and I wish him happier
than he has made me.
    He had sent for me down, and I came, tho' unwillingly, and the Cloth was
laid in the Parlour I had jump'd out of; and there was my Master walking about
it. Mrs. Jewkes came in, and asked, If he pleas'd to have Dinner brought in? for
my Lady would not come in, but desired her Service, and wish'd him happier than
he had made her. He seeing at the Window, when he went to that Side of the Room,
all ready to go, stepped out to her, and said, Lady Davers, if I thought you would
not be harden'd rather than soften'd by my Civility, I would ask you to walk in,
and at least let your Kinsman and Servants dine before they go. She wept, and
turn'd her Face from him to hide it; he took her Hand, and said, Come, Sister,
let me prevail upon you: Walk in. No! said she, don't ask me. - I wish I could
hate you, as much as you hate me! - You do, said he, and a great deal more, I'll
assure you; or else you'd not vex me as you do. - Come, pray, walk in. Don't ask
me, said she. Her Kinsman just then return'd: Why, Madam, said he, your Ladyship
won't go till you have din'd, I hope. No, Jackey, said she, I can't stay; I'm an
Intruder here, it seems! - Think, said my Master, of the Occasion you gave for
that Word. Your violent Passions are the only Intruders! Lay them aside, and
never Sister was dearer to a Brother. Don't say such another Word, said she, I
beseech you; for I am too easy to forgive you any thing, for one kind Word! -
You shall have One hundred, said he, nay, Ten thousand, if they will do, my dear
Sister. And kissing her, he added, Pray give me your Hand. John, said he, put up
the Horses; you are all as welcome to me, for all your Lady's angry with me, as
at any Inn you can put up at. Come, Mr. H. said he, lead your Aunt in; for she
won't permit that Honour to me.
    This quite overcame her; and she said, giving her Brother her Hand, Yes, I
will, and you shall lead me any-whither! - and kiss'd him. But don't think, said
she, I can forgive you neither. And so he led her into the Parlour where I was.
But, said she, why do you lead me to this Wench? 'Tis my Wife, my dear Sister;
and if you will not love her, yet don't forget common Civilities to her, for
your own sake.
    Pray, Madam, said her Kinsman, since your Brother is pleas'd to own his
Marriage, we must not forget common Civilities, as the 'Squire says. And, Sir,
added he, permit me to wish you Joy. Thank you, Sir, said he. And may I, said
he, looking at me? Yes, Sir, reply'd my Master. So he saluted me, very
complaisantly, and said, I vow to Gad, Madam, I did not know this Yesterday;
and, if I was guilty of a Fault, I beg your Pardon.
    My Lady said, Thou'rt a good-natur'd foolish Fellow; thou mightst have save'd
this nonsensical Parade, till I had given thee Leave. Why, Aunt, said he, if
they're actually marry'd, there's no Help for't, and we must not make Mischief
between Man and Wife.
    But, Brother, said she, do you think I'll sit at Table with the Creature? No
contemptuous Names I beseech you, Lady Davers! I tell you she is really my Wife;
and I must be a Villain to suffer her to be ill used. She has no Protector but
me; and, if you will permit her, she will always love and honour you. - Indeed,
indeed, I will, Madam, said I.
    I cannot, I wo'not sit down at Table with her, said she: Pamela, I hope thou
dost not think I will? Indeed, Madam, said I, if your good Brother will permit
it, I will attend your Chair all the time you dine, to show my Veneration for
your Ladyship, as the Sister of my kind Protector. See, said he, her Condition
has not altered her; but I cannot permit in her a Conduct unworthy of my Wife,
and I hope my Sister would not expect it neither.
    Let her leave the Room, reply'd she, if I must stay. Indeed, you're out of
the Way, Aunt, said her Kinsman; that is not right, as Things stand. Said my
Master, No, Madam, that must not be; but if it must be so, we'll have two
Tables; you and your Nephew shall sit at one, and my Spouse and I at the other:
And then see what a Figure your unreasonable Punctilio will make you cut. - She
seem'd irresolute, and he sat her down at the Table, the first Course, which was
Fish, being brought in. Where, said she to me, wouldst thou presume to sit?
Wouldst have me give Place to thee too, Wench? - Come, come, said my Master,
I'll put that out of Dispute: and so sat himself down by her Ladyship, at the
upper End of the Table, and plac'd me on his Left-hand. Excuse me, my Dear, said
he, this once excuse me! - Oh! your cursed Complaisance, said she, to such a --
Hush, Sister! Hush, said he! I will not bear her to be spoken slightingly of!
'Tis enough, that to oblige your violent and indecent Caprice, you make me
compromise with you thus.
    Come, Sir, added he, pray take your Place next your gentle Aunt! - Beck,
said she, do you sit down by Pamela there, since it must be so; we'll be hail
Fellow all! With all my Heart, reply'd my Master: I have so much Honour for all
the Sex, that I would not have the meanest Person of it stand, while I sit, had
I been to have made the Custom. Mrs. Worden, pray sit down. Sir, said she, I
hope I shall know my Place better.
    My Lady sat considering, and then lifting up her Hands, said, Lord! what
will this World come to? - To nothing but what's very good, reply'd my Master,
if such Spirits as Lady Davers's do but take the Rule of it. Shall I help you,
Sister, to some of that Carp? Help your Beloved, said she! That's kind, said he!
- Now, that's my good Lady Davers. Here, my Love, let me help you, since my
Sister desires it! - Mighty well! return'd she, mighty well! - But sat on one
Side, turning from me, as it were.
    Dear Aunt, said her Kinsman, let's see you buss and be Friends; since 'tis
so, what signifies it? Hold thy Fool's Tongue, said she! Is thy Tone so soon
turn'd since Yesterday? Said my Master, I hope nothing affronting was offer'd
Yesterday to my Wife in her own House. She hit him a good smart Slap on the
Shoulder; Take that, impudent Brother, said she. I'll Wife you, and in her own
House! She seem'd half afraid; but he, in very good Humour, kiss'd her, and
said, I thank you, Sister, I thank you. But I have not had a Blow from you
before of some Time!
    'Fore Gad, Sir, said her Kinsman, 'tis very kind of you to take it so well.
Her Ladyship is as good a Woman as ever liv'd; but I have had many a Cuff from
her myself.
    I won't put it up neither, said my Master, except you'll assure me, you have
seen her serve her Lord so.
    I press'd my Foot to his, and said, softly, Don't, dear Sir! - What, said
she, is the Creature begging me off from Insult? If his Manners won't keep him
from outraging me, I wo'not owe his Forbearance to thee, Wench.
    Said my Master, and put some Fish on my Lady's Plate, Well, does Lady Davers
use the Word Insult! - But, come, let me see you eat one Mouthful, and I'll
forgive you; and he put the Knife in one of her Hands, and the Fork in the
other. As I hope to live, said he, I cannot bear this silly Childishness, for
nothing at all. I am quite asham'd of it.
    She put a little Bit to her Mouth, but put it down in her Plate again: I
cannot eat, said she; I cannot swallow, I'm sure. It will certainly choke me. He
had forbid his Men-servants to come in, that they might not behold the Scene he
expected; and rose from Table himself, and fill'd a Glass of Wine, her Woman
offering, and her Kinsman rising to do it. Mean-time, his Seat between us being
vacant, she turn'd to me, How now, Confidence, said she, darest thou sit next
me? Why dost thou not rise, and take the Glass from thy Property?
    Sit still, my Dear, said he, I'll help you both. But I arose; for I was
afraid of a good Cuff; and said, Pray, Sir, let me help my Lady! So you shall,
reply'd he, when she's in a Humour to receive it as she ought. Sister, said he,
with a Glass in his Hand, Pray drink; you'll perhaps eat a little Bit of
something then. Is this to insult me, said she? - No, really, return'd he; but
to incite you to eat; for you'll be sick for want of it.
    She took the Glass, and said, God forgive you, wicked Wretch, for your Usage
of me this Day! - This is a little as it used to be! - I once had your Love; -
and now it is changed; and for who? that vexes me! And wept so, she was forced
to set down the Glass.
    You don't do well, said he. You neither treat me like your Brother, nor a
Gentleman; and if you would suffer me, I would love you as well as ever. - But,
for a Woman of Sense and Understanding, and a fine-bred Woman, as I once thought
my Sister, you act quite a childish Part. Come, added he, and held the Glass to
her Lips, let your Brother, that you once love'd, prevail on you to drink this
Glass of Wine. - She then drank it. He kiss'd her, and said, Oh! how Passion
deforms the noblest Minds! You have lost a good deal of that Loveliness that
used to adorn my Sister. And let me persuade you to compose yourself, and be my
Sister again! - For Lady Davers is indeed a fine Woman, and has a presence as
majestick for a Lady, as her dear Brother has for a Gentleman.
    He then sat down between us again, and said, when the second Course came in,
Let Abraham come in, and wait. I touch'd his Toe again; but he minded it not;
and I saw he was right; for her Ladyship began to recollect herself, and did not
behave half so sorrowfully before the Servants, as she had done; and help'd
herself with some little Freedom; but she could not forbear a strong Sigh and a
Sob, now-and-then. She call'd for a Glass of the same Wine she had drank before.
Said he, shall I help you again, Lady Davers? - and rose at the same time, and
went to the Side-board, and filled her a Glass. Indeed, said she, I love to be
sooth'd by my Brother! - Your Health, Sir!
    Said my Master to me with great Sweetness, My Dear, now I'm up, I'll fill
for you! - I must serve both Sisters alike! She look'd at the Servant, as if he
were a little Check upon her, and said to my Master, How now, Sir! - Not that
you know of. He whisper'd her, Don't show any Contempt before my Servants to one
I have so deservedly made their Mistress. Consider 'tis done. - Ay, said she,
that's the Thing that kills me.
    He gave me a Glass; My good Lady's Health, Sir, said I, and stood up. - That
won't do, said she, leaning towards me, softly; and was going to say, Wench, or
Creature, or some such Word. And my Master, seeing Abraham look towards her, her
Eyes being red and swell'd, said, Indeed, Sister, I would not vex myself about
it, if I was you. About what, said she? Why, reply'd he, about your Lord's not
coming down, as he had promised. He sat down, and she tapp'd him on the
Shoulder: Ah! Wicked-one, said she, nor will that do neither! - Why, to be sure,
added he, it would vex a Lady of your Sense and Merit, to be slighted, if it was
so; but I am sure my Lord loves you, as well as you love him; and you know not
what may have happen'd.
    She shook her Head, and said, That's like your Art! - This makes one amaz'd
you should be so caught! - Who, my Lord caught! said he; no, no! he'll have more
Wit than so! But I never heard you was jealous before. Nor, said she, have you
any Reason to think so now! Honest Friend, you need not wait, said she, my Woman
will help us to what we want. Yes, let him, reply'd he. Abraham, fill me a
Glass. Come, said my Master, Lord Davers to you, Madam: I hope he'll take care
he is not found out! - You're very provoking, Brother, said she. I wish you was
as good as Lord Davers. - But don't carry your Jest too far. Well, said he, 'tis
a tender Point, I own. I've done!
    By these kind Managements the Dinner passed over better than I expected. And
when the Servants were withdrawn, my Master said, still keeping his Place
between us, I have a Question to ask you, Lady Davers; and that is, If you'll
bear me Company to Bedfordshire. I was intending to set out thither to-morrow.
But I'll tarry your Pleasure, if you'll go with me.
    Is thy Wife, as thou callest her, to go along with thee, Friend? said she.
Yes, to be sure, answered he, my dear Quaker Sister, and took her Hand, and
smile'd. And wouldst have me parade it with her on the Road? - Hay! - And make
one to grace her Retinue? - Hay! - Tell me how thou'dst chalk it out, if I would
do as thou wouldst have me, honest Friend!
    He clasped his Arms about her, and kissed her: You are a dear saucy Sister,
said he; but I must love you! - Why, I'll tell you how I'd have it. Here shall
you, and my Pamela - Leave out my, I desire you, if you'd have me sit patiently.
No, said he, I can't do that. Here shall you, and my Pamela, go together in your
Chariot, if you please; and she will then appear as one of your Retinue; and
your Nephew and I will sometimes ride, and sometimes go into my Chariot, to your
Woman.
    Shouldst thou like this, Creature? said she to me. - If your Ladyship think
it not too great an Honour for me, Madam, said I. Yes, reply'd she, but my
Ladyship does think it would be too great an Honour.
    Now I think of it, said he, this must not be, neither; for without you'd
give her the Hand, in your own Chariot, my Wife would be thought your Woman, and
that must not be. Why, that would, maybe, said she, be the only Inducement for
me to bear her near me, in my Chariot. - But, how then? - Why then, when we came
home, we'd get Lord Davers to come to us, and stay a Month or two.
    And what if he was to come? - Why I would have you, as I know you have a
good Fancy, give Pamela your judgement on some Patterns I expect from London, for
clothes. - Provoking Wretch! said she; now I wish I may keep my Hands to myself.
I don't say it to provoke you, said he, nor ought it to do so. But when I tell
you, I am marry'd, Is it not a Consequence, that we must have new clothes?
    Hast thou any more of these obliging things to say to me, Friend? said she.
I will make you a Present, return'd he, worth your Acceptance, if you will grace
us with your Company at Church, when we make our Appearance! - Take that, said
she, if I die for't; Wretch that thou art! And was going to hit him a great
Slap, but he held her Hand. Her Kinsman said, Dear Aunt, I wonder at you! why
all these are things of Course.
    I begg'd Leave to withdraw; and, as I went out, my good Master said, There's
a Person! There's a Shape! There's a Sweetness! O Lady Davers! were you a Man,
you would dote on her, as I do. Yes, said the naughty Lady, so I should, for my
Harlot, but not for a Wife. I turn'd, on this, and said, Indeed your Ladyship is
cruel; and well may Gentlemen take Liberties, when Ladies of Honour say such
things! And I wept, and added, Your Ladyship's Influence, if your good Brother
were not the most generous of Men, would make me very unhappy.
    No Fear, Wench; no Fear, said she: Thou'lt hold him, as long as any body
can, I see that! - Poor Sally Godfrey never had half the Interest in him, I'll
assure you!
    Stay, my Pamela, said he, in a Passion; stay, when I bid you. You have
heard, this Day, two vile Charges upon me! I love you with such a true
Affection, that I ought to say something before this malicious Accuser, that you
may not think your consummate Virtue link'd to too black a Villain.
    Her Nephew seemed uneasy, and blam'd her much; and I came back, but trembled
as I stood; and he sat me down, and said, taking my Hand, I have been accused,
my Dear, as a Dueller, and now as a Profligate, in another Sense! and there was
a Time, I should not have received these Imputations with so much Concern as I
now do, when I would wish, by degrees, by a Conformity of my Manners to your
Virtue, to show every one the Force your Example has upon me. But this briefly
is the Case of the first.
    I had a Friend, who had been basely attempted to be assassinated by Bravoes,
hir'd by a Man of Title in Italy, who, like many other Persons of Title, had no
Honour; and at Padua, I had the Fortune to disarm one of these Bravoes in my
Friend's Defence, and made him confess his Employer; and him, I own, I
challeng'd. At Sienna we met, and he dy'd in a Month after, of a Fever, but, I
hope, not occasioned by the slight Wounds he had receive'd from me, tho' I was
obliged to leave Italy upon it, sooner than I intended, because of his numerous
Relations, who looked upon me as the Cause of his Death. Tho' I pacify'd them by
a Letter I wrote them from Inspruck, acquainting them with the Baseness of the
Deceased; and they followed me not to Munich, as they had intended.
    This is one of the good-natured Hints, that might shock your Sweetness on
reflecting that you are yoked with a Murderer. The other - Nay, Brother, said
she, say no more. 'Tis your own Fault if you go further. She shall know it all,
said he; and I defy the utmost Stretch of your Malice.
    When I was at College, I was well received by a Widow Lady, who had several
Daughters, and but small Fortunes to give them; and the old Lady set one of
them; a deserving good Girl she was; to draw me in to a Marriage with her, for
the sake of the Fortune I was Heir to; and contrive'd many Opportunities to bring
us and leave us together. I was not then of Age; and the young Lady, not half so
artful as her Mother, yielded to my Addresses, before the Mother's Plot could be
ripen'd, and so utterly disappointed it. This, my Pamela, is the Sally Godfrey
this malicious Woman, with the worst Intentions, has inform'd you of. And
whatever other Liberties I may have taken; for perhaps some more I have, which,
had she known, you had heard of, as well as this; I desire Heaven will only
forgive me till I revive its Vengeance by the like Offences, in Injury to my
Pamela.
    And now, my Dear, you may withdraw; for this worthy Sister of mine has said
all the Bad she knows of me; and what, at a proper Opportunity, when I could
have convinced you, that they were not my Boast, but my Concern, I should have
acquainted you with, myself; for I am not fond of being thought better than I
am: Tho', I hope, from the Hour I devoted myself to so much Virtue, to that of
my Death, my Conduct shall be irreproachable.
    She was greatly mov'd at this, and the noble Manner in which the dear
Gentleman own'd and repented of his Faults; and gushed out into Tears, and said,
No, don't yet go, Pamela, I beseech you. My Passion has carry'd me too far a
great deal; and coming to me, she took my Hand, and said, You must stay to hear
me beg his Pardon, and so took his Hand - But, to my Concern, (for I was grieved
for her Ladyship's Grief) he burst from her; and went out of the Parlour into
the Garden, in a violent Rage, that made me tremble. Her Ladyship sat down, and
leaned her Head against my Bosom, and made my Neck wet with her Tears, holding
me by my Hands; and I wept for Company. -- Her Kinsman walked up and down the
Parlour, in a sad Fret; and going out afterwards, he came in, and said, The
'Squire has order'd his Chariot to be got ready, and won't be spoken to by any
body. Where is he? said she - Walking in the Garden till 'tis ready, reply'd he.
    Well, said she, I have indeed gone too far. I was bewitched! And now, said
she, malicious as he calls me, will he not forgive me for a Twelvemonth: For I
tell you, Pamela, if ever you offend, he will not easily forgive. I was all
delighted, tho' sad, to see her Ladyship so good to me. Will you venture, said
she, to accompany me to him! - Dare you follow a Lion in his Retreats? - I'll
attend your Ladyship, said I, where-ever you command. Well, Wench, said she,
Pamela, I mean, thou art very good in the main! - I should have love'd thee as
well as my Mother did - if - but 'tis all over now! Indeed you should not have
marry'd my Brother! But come, I must love him! Let's find him out. And yet will
he now use me worse than a Dog! - I should not, added she, have so much
exasperated him: For whenever I have, I have always had the worst of it. He
knows I love him!
    In this manner her Ladyship talk'd to me, leaning on my Arm, and walked into
the Garden. I saw he was still in a Tumult, as it were; and he took another Walk
to avoid us. - She call'd after him, and said, Brother, Brother, Let me speak to
you! - One Word with you! And as we made haste towards him, and came near to
him; I desire, said he, That you'll not oppress me more with your Follies and
your Violence. I have borne too much with you. And I will vow for a Twelvemonth,
from this Day - Hush, said she, don't vow, I beg you; for too well will you keep
it, I know by Experience, if you do: You see, said she, I stoop to ask Pamela to
be my Advocate. Sure that will pacify you!
    Indeed, said he, I desire to see neither of you, on such an Occasion; and
let me only be left to myself; for I will not be intruded upon thus; and was
going away. - But she said, One Word first, I desire - If you'll forgive me,
I'll forgive you! - What, said the dear Man, haughtily, will you forgive me! -
Why, said she, for she saw him too angry to mention his Marriage, as a Subject
that require'd her Pardon, - I will forgive you all your bad Usage of me this
Day.
    I will be serious with you, Sister, said he: I wish you most sincerely well;
but let us, from this Time, study so much one another's Quiet, as never to come
near one another more. - Never? said she. - And can you desire this, barbarous
Brother! can you? - I can, I do, said he; and I have nothing to do, but hide
from you, not a Brother, but a Murderer, and a Profligate, unworthy of your
Relation; and let me be consign'd to Penitence for my past Evils: A Penitence
however, that shall not be broken in upon by so violent an Accuser.
    Pamela, said he, and made me tremble, How dare you approach me, without
Leave, when you see me thus disturb'd! - Never, for the future, come near me,
while I am in these Tumults, unless I send for you.
    Dear Sir! said I -- Leave me, interrupted he. I will set out for
Bedfordshire this Moment: What! Sir, said I, without me? - What have I done! You
have too meanly, said he, for my Wife, stooped to this furious Sister of mine;
and, till I can recollect, I am not pleased with you: But Colbrand shall attend
you, and two other of my Servants; and Mrs. Jewkes shall wait upon you part of
the Way. And I hope, you'll find me in a better Disposition to receive you
there, than I am at parting with you here.
    Had I not hoped, that this was partly put on to intimidate my Lady, I
believe I could not have borne it: But it was grievous to me; for I saw he was
most sincerely in a Passion.
    I was afraid, said she, he would be angry at you, as well as me; for well do
I know his unreasonable Violence, when he is moved. But one Word, Sir, said she;
Pardon Pamela, if you won't me; for she has committed no Offence, but that of
Good-nature to me, and at my Request. I will begone myself, directly, as I was
about to do, had you not prevented me.
    I prevented you, said he, thro' Love; but you have stung me for it, thro'
Hatred. But as for my Pamela, I know, besides the present Moment, I cannot be
angry with her; and therefore I desire her never to see me on such Occasions,
till I can see her in the Temper I ought to be in when so much Sweetness
approaches me. 'Tis therefore, I say, my Dearest, leave me now.
    But, Sir, said I, must I leave you, and let you go to Bedford without me! O
dear Sir, how can I? -- Said my Lady, You may go to-morrow, both of you, as you
had design'd, and I will go away this Afternoon; and since I cannot be forgiven,
I will try to forget I have a Brother.
    May I, Sir, said I, beg all your Anger on myself, and to be reconciled to
your good Sister? Presuming Pamela! reply'd he, and made me start, art thou then
so hardy, so well able to sustain a Displeasure, which, of all things, I
expected, from thy Affection and thy Tenderness, thou wouldst have wished to
avoid? - Now, said he, and took my Hand, and, as it were, tost it from him,
begone from my Presence, and reflect upon what you have said to me!
    I was so frighted, for then I saw he took amiss what I said, that I took
hold of his Knees, as he was turning from me, and I said, Forgive me, good Sir;
you see I am not so hardy! I cannot bear your Displeasure! And was ready to
sink.
    His Sister said, Only forgive Pamela; 'tis all I ask! -- You'll break her
Spirit quite! -- You'll carry your Passion as much too far as I have done! -- I
need not say, said he, how well I love her: but she must not intrude upon me at
such times as these! -- I had intended, as soon as I could have quell'd, by my
Reason, the Tumults you had caused by your Violence, to have come in, and taken
such a Leave of you both, as might become a Husband and a Brother; but she has,
unbidden, broken in upon me, and must take the Consequence of a Passion, which,
when raised, is as uncontroulable as your own.
    Said she, Did I not love you so well, as Sister never loved a Brother, I
should not have given you all this Trouble. And did I not, said he, love you
better than you are resolve'd to deserve, I should be indifferent to all you say.
But this last Instance, (after the Duelling-story, which you would not have
mention'd, had you not known it is always matter of Concern for me to think
upon) of poor Sally Godfrey, is a Piece of Spite and Meanness, that I can
renounce you my Blood for.
    Well, said she, I am convinced it was wrong. I am asham'd of it myself.
'Twas poor, 'twas mean, 'twas unworthy of your Sister: And 'tis for this Reason
I stoop to follow you, to beg your Pardon, and even to procure for my Advocate
one, that I thought had some Interest in you, if I might have believed your own
Professions to her; which now I shall begin to think made purposely to insult
me.
    I care not what you think! -- After the Meanness you have been guilty of, I
can only look upon you with Pity. For, indeed, you have fallen very low with me.
    'Tis plain I have, said she. But, I'll begone. - And so, Brother, let me
call you so this once! God bless you! And, Pamela, said her Ladyship, God bless
you! And kissed me, and wept.
    I durst say no more; and my Lady turning from him, he said, Your Sex is the
D--l; how strangely can you discompose, calm, and turn, as you please, us poor
Weathercocks of Men! Your last kind Blessing to my Pamela, I cannot stand! Kiss
but each other again. And he then took both our Hands, and join'd them; and my
Lady saluting me again, with Tears on both sides, he put his kind Arms about
each of our Waists, and saluted us with great Affection, saying, Now, God bless
you both, the two dearest Creatures I have in the World.
    Well, said she, you will quite forget my Fault about Miss -- He stopped her,
before she could speak the Name, and said, For ever forget it! - And, Pamela,
I'll forgive you too, if you don't again make my Displeasure so light a thing to
you, as you did just now!
    Said my Lady, She did not make your Displeasure a light thing to her; but
the heavier it was, the higher Compliment she made me, that she would bear it
all, rather than not see you and me reconciled. No matter for that, said he: It
was either an Absence of Thought, or a Slight, by Implication at least, that my
Niceness could not bear from her Tenderness. For, looked it not presuming, that
she could stand my Displeasure, or was sure of making her Terms when she
pleas'd? Which, fond as I am of her, I assure her, will not be always, in wilful
Faults, in her own Power.
    Nay, said my Lady, I can tell you, Pamela, you have a Gentleman here in my
Brother; and you may expect such Treatment from him, as that Character, and his
known good Sense and Breeding, will always oblige him to show: But if you
offend, the Lord have Mercy upon you! - You see how it is by poor me! - And yet,
I never knew him forgive so soon.
    I am sure, said I, I will take care as much as I can! for I have been
frighted out of my Wits, and had offended before I knew where I was.
    So happily did this Storm blow over; and my Lady was quite subdu'd and
pacify'd. When we came out of the Garden, his Chariot was ready; and he said,
Well, Sister, I had most assuredly gone away towards my other House, if things
had not taken this happy Turn; and if you please, instead of it, you and I will
take an Airing: And pray, my Dear, said he to me, bid Mrs. Jewkes order Supper
by Eight o'Clock, and we shall then join you.
    Sir, added he, to her Nephew, will you take your Horse, and escorte us. I
will, said he; and am glad, at my Soul, to see you all so good Friends. - So my
dear lordly Master (O my dear Parents! he is very dreadful when he pleases, I
see! - But, I hope, I shall never incur his Anger) handed my Lady into his
Chariot, and her Kinsman, and his Servant, rode after them; and I went up to my
Closet, to ruminate on these things. And, foolish thing that I am, this poor
Miss Sally Godfrey runs in my Head! -- How soon the Name and Quality of a Wife
gives one Privileges, in one's own Account! - Yet, methinks, I want to know more
about her; for, is it not strange, that I, who lived Years in the Family, should
have heard nothing of this? But I was so constantly with my Lady, that I might
the less hear of it; for she, I dare say, never knew it, or she would have told
me.
    But I dare not ask him about the poor Lady - Yet I wonder what became of
her? Whether she be living? And whether any thing came of it? -- May-be I shall
hear full soon enough: - But I hope not to any bad Purpose.
    As to the other unhappy Case, I know it was talk'd of, that in his Travels,
before I was taken into the Family long, he had one or two Broils; and, from a
Youth, he was always remarkable for Courage, and is reckon'd a great Master of
his Sword. God grant he may never be put to use it! And that he may be always
preserved in Honour and Safety!
 
About Seven o'Clock, my Master sent word, that he would have me not expect him
to Supper. For that he and my Lady his Sister, and Nephew, were prevailed upon
to stay with Lady Jones; and that Lady Darnford, and Mr. Peters's Family, had
promised to meet them there. I was glad that they did not send for me; and the
rather, as I hoped those good Families, being my Friends, would confirm my Lady
a little in my Favour; and so I follow'd my Writing closely.
 
About Eleven o'Clock they return'd. I had but just come down, having tir'd
myself with my Pen, and was sitting talking with Mrs. Jewkes and Mrs. Worden,
whom I would, tho' unwillingly on their Sides, make sit down over-against me.
Mrs. Worden asked me Pardon, in a good deal of Confusion, for the Part she had
acted against me; saying, That Things had been very differently represented to
her; and that she little thought I had been marry'd, and that she was behaving
so rudely to the Lady of the House.
    I said, I took nothing amiss, and very freely forgave her; and hoped my new
Condition would not make me forget how to behave properly to every one; but that
I must endeavour to act not unworthy of it, for the Honour of the Gentleman who
had so generously raised me to it.
    Mrs. Jewkes said, that my Situation gave me great Opportunities of showing
the Excellency of my Nature, that I could forgive Offences against me so
readily, as she for her own Part, must always, she said, acknowledge, with
Confusion of Face.
    People, said I, Mrs. Jewkes, don't know how they shall act, when their Wills
are in the Power of their Superiors; and I always thought one should distinguish
between Acts of Malice, and of implicit Obedience; tho', at the same time, a
Person should know how to judge between Lawful and Unlawful. And even the Great,
continued I, tho' at present angry they are not obey'd, will afterwards have no
ill Opinion of a Person for withstanding them in their unlawful Commands.
    Mrs. Jewkes seem'd a little concern'd at this; and I said, I spoke chiefly
from my own Experience; for that I might say, as they both knew my Story, that I
had not wanted both for Menaces and Temptations; and had I comply'd with the
one, or been intimidated by the other, I should not have been what I was.
    Ah! Madam, said Mrs. Jewkes, I never knew any body like you: And I think
your Temper sweeter since the happy Day, than before; and that, if possible, you
take less upon you than before.
    Why, a good Reason, said I, may be assigned for that: I thought myself in
Danger: I look'd upon every one as my Enemy; and it was impossible that I should
not be fretful, uneasy, jealous. But when my dearest Sir had taken from me the
Ground of my Uneasiness, and made me quite happy, I should have been very
blameable if I had not shown a satisfy'd and easy Mind, and a Temper that should
engage every one's Respect and Love at the same time, if possible: And so much
the more, as it was but justifying, in some sort, the Honour I had received; for
the fewer Enemies I made myself, the more I engaged every one to think, that my
good Benefactor had been less to blame in descending as he has done.
    This way of talking pleas'd them both very much; and they made me many
Compliments upon it, and wished me to be always happy, as, they said, I so well
deserved.
    We were thus engaged, when my Master and his Sister, and her Nephew, came
in. And they made me quite alive, in the happy Humour in which they all
return'd. The two Women would have withdrawn; but my Master said, Don't go, Mrs.
Worden; Mrs. Jewkes, pray stay; I shall speak to you presently. So he came to
me, and saluting me, said, Well, my dear Love, I hope I have not trespass'd upon
your Patience, by an Absence longer than we design'd. But it has not been to
your Disadvantage; for tho' we had not your Company, we have talked of nobody
else but you.
    My Lady came up to me, and said, Ay, Child, you have been all our Subject. I
don't know how it is; but you have made two or three whole Families, in this
Neighbourhood, as much your Admirers, as your Friend here.
    My Sister, said he, has been hearing your Praises, Pamela, from half a score
Mouths, with more Pleasure than her Heart will easily let her express.
    My good Lady Davers's Favour, said I, and the Continuance of yours, Sir,
would give me more Pride than that of all the rest of the World put together.
    Well, Child, said she, proud Hearts don't come down all at once; tho' my
Brother here has, this Day, set mine a good many Pegs lower than I ever knew it:
But I will say, I wish you Joy with my Brother; and so kissed me.
    My dear Lady, said I, you for ever oblige me! - I shall now believe myself
quite happy. This was all I wanted to make me so! - And, I hope, I shall always,
thro' my Life, show your Ladyship, that I have the most grateful and respectful
Sense of your Goodness.
    But, Child, said she, I shall not give you my Company when you make your
Appearance. Let your own Merit make all your Bedfordshire Neighbours your
Friends, as it has done here, by your Lincolnshire ones; and you'll have no need
of my Countenance, nor any body's else.
    Now, said her Nephew, 'tis my Turn; I wish you Joy with all my Soul, Madam;
and, by what I have seen, and by what I have heard, 'fore Gad, I think you have
met with no more than you deserve; and so all the Company says, where we have
been. And pray forgive all my Nonsense to you.
    Sir, said I, I shall always, I hope, respect as I ought, so near a Relation
of my good Lord and Lady Davers; and I thank you for your kind Compliment.
    Gad, Beck, said he, I believe you've some Forgiveness too to ask; for we
were all to blame, to make Madam, here, fly the Pit, as she did! Little did we
think we made her quit her own House.
    Thou always, said my Lady, say'st too much or too little.
    Mrs. Worden said, I have been treated with so much Goodness and
Condescension, since you went, that I have been beforehand, Sir, in asking
Pardon for myself.
    So my Lady sat down with me half an Hour, and told me how her Brother had
carry'd her a fine Airing, and had quite charm'd her with his kind Treatment of
her; and had much confirm'd her in the good Opinion she had begun to entertain
of my discreet and obliging Behaviour: But, continued she, when he would make me
visit, without intending to stay, my old Neighbours, (for, said she, Lady Jones
being nearest, we visited her first; and she scrap'd all the rest of the Company
together) they were all so full of your Praises, that I was quite borne down;
and, truly, it was Saul among the Prophets!
    You may believe how much I was delighted with this; and I spar'd not my due
Acknowledgments.
    When her Ladyship took Leave, to go to-bed, she said, Good-night to you,
heartily, and to your good Man. I kiss'd you when I came in, out of Form; but I
now kiss you out of more than Form, I'll assure you.
    Join with me, my dear Parents, in my Joy for this happy Turn; the contrary
of which, I so much dreaded, and was the only Difficulty I had to labour with! -
This poor Miss Sally Godfrey, I wonder what's become of her, poor Soul! - I wish
he would, of his own Head, mention her again. - Not that I am very uneasy
neither. - You'll say, I must be a little saucy, if I was.
    My dear Master gave me an Account, when we went up, of the Pains he had
taken with his beloved Sister, as he himself styled her; and of all the kind
Things the good Families had said in my Behalf; and that he observe'd she was not
so much displeas'd with hearing them, as she was at first; when she would not
permit any body to speak of me as his Wife. And that my Health, as his Spouse,
being put; when it came to her, she drank it; but said, Come, Brother, here's
your Pamela to you. - But I shall not know how to stand this Affair, when the
Countess -- and the young Ladies come to visit me. It was with one of those
young Ladies, that she was so fond of promoting a Match with her Brother. - Lady
Betty, I know, said she, will rally me smartly upon it; and you know, Brother,
she wants neither Wit, nor Satire. He said, I hope, Lady Betty, whenever she
marries, will meet with a better Husband than I should have made her; for, on my
Conscience, I think, I should hardly have made a tolerable one to any but
Pamela.
    He told me, That they rallied him on the Stateliness of his Temper; and
said, They saw he would make an exceeding good Husband where he was; but it must
be owing to my Meekness, more than his Complaisance; for, said Miss Darnford, I
could see, well enough, when your Ladyship detained her, tho' he had but hinted
his Desire of finding her at our House, he was so out of Humour at her supposed
Non-complaisance, that mine and my Sister's Pity for her was much more engage'd
than our Envy.
    Ay, said my Lady, he is too lordly a Creature, by much, and can't bear
Disappointment, and never could.
    Said he, Well, Lady Davers, you should not, of all Persons, find Fault with
me; for I bore a great deal from you, before I was at all angry.
    Yes, reply'd she; but when I had gone a little too far, as I own I did, you
made me pay for it severely enough! You know you did, Sauce-box. And the poor
thing too, added she, that I took with me for my Advocate, so low had he brought
me! he treated in such a manner, as made my Heart ach for her: But part was Art,
I know, to make me think the better of her.
    Indeed, Sister, said he, there was very little of that; for, at that time, I
cared not what you thought, nor had Complaisance enough to have given a Shilling
for your good or bad Opinion of her or me. And, I own, I was displeased to be
broken in upon, after your Provocations, by either of you; and she must learn
that Lesson, never to come near me, when I am in those Humours; which shall be
as little as possible; for, after a-while, if let alone, I always come to
myself, and am sorry for the Violence of a Temper so like my dear Sister's here:
And, for this Reason, think it is no matter how few Witnesses I have of its
Intemperance, while it lasts; especially since every Witness, whether they merit
it or not, as you see in my Pamela's Case, must be a Sufferer by it, if, unsent
for, they come in my Way.
    He repeated the same Lesson to me again, and inforc'd it; and own'd, that he
was angry with me in Earnest, just then; tho' more with himself, afterwards, for
being so: But when, Pamela, said he, you wanted to transfer all my Displeasure
upon yourself, it was so much braving me with your Merit, as if I must soon end
my Anger, if placed there; or it was making it so light to you, that I was truly
displeased. For, continued he, I cannot bear that you should wish, on any
Occasion whatever, to have me angry with you, or not to value my Displeasure, as
the heaviest Misfortune that could befal you.
    But, Sir, said I, you know, that what I did was to try to reconcile my Lady,
and as she herself observe'd, it was paying her a high Regard. It was so, reply'd
he; but never think of making a Compliment to her, or any body living, at my
Expense. Besides, she had behave'd herself so intolerably, that I began to think
you had stooped too much, and more than I ought to permit my Wife to do; and
Acts of Meanness are what I can't endure in any body, but especially where I
love; and as she had been guilty of a very signal one, I had much rather have
renounced her, at that time, than have been reconciled to her.
    Sir, said I, I hope I shall always comport myself so, as not wilfully to
disoblige you for the future; and the rather do I hope this, as I am sure I
shall want only to know your Pleasure, to obey it. But this Instance shows me,
that I may much offend, without designing it in the least.
    Now, Pamela, reply'd he, don't be too serious; I hope I shan't be a very
tyrannical Husband to you. Yet do I not pretend to be perfect, or to be always
govern'd by Reason in my first Transports; and I expect, from your Affection,
that you will bear with me when you find me wrong. I have no ingrateful Spirit,
and can, when cool, enter as impartially into myself, as most Men; and then I am
always kind and acknowledging, in proportion as I have been out of the Way.
    But, to convince you, my Dear, continued he, of your Fault, (I mean, with
regard to the Impetuosity of my Temper; for there was no Fault in your
Intention, that I acknowledge) I'll observe only, that you met, when you came to
me, while I was so out of Humour, a Reception you did not expect, and a harsh
Word or two, that you did not deserve. Now, had you not broken in upon me, while
my Anger lasted, but stay'd till I had come to you, or sent to desire your
Company, you'd have seen none of this; but that affectionate Behaviour, that, I
doubt not, you'll always merit, and I shall always take Pleasure in expressing;
and in this Temper shall you always find a proper Influence over me: But you
must not suppose, whenever I am out of Humour, that, in opposing yourself to my
Passion, you oppose a proper Butt to it; but when you are so good, like the
slender Reed, to bend to the Hurricane, rather than, like the sturdy Oak, to
resist it, you will always stand firm in my kind Opinion, while a contrary
Conduct would uproot you, with all your Excellencies, from my Soul.
    Sir, said I, I will endeavour to conform myself, in all things, to your
Will. I make no Doubt, but you will: And I'll endeavour to make my Will as
conformable to Reason as I can. And, let me tell you, that this Belief of you,
is one of the Inducements I have had to marry at all. For nobody was more averse
to this State than myself; and now we're upon this Subject, I'll tell you why I
was so averse.
    We People of Fortune, or such as are born to large Expectations, of both
Sexes, are generally educated wrong. You have occasionally touch'd upon this,
Pamela, several times in your Journal, so justly, that I need say the less to
you. We are usually so headstrong, so violent in our Wills, that we very little
bear Controul.
    Humour'd by our Nurses, thro' the Faults of our Parents, we practise first
upon them; and show the Gratitude of our Dispositions, in an Insolence that
ought rather to be check'd and restrain'd, than encouraged.
    Next, we are to be indulged in every thing at School; and our Masters and
Mistresses are rewarded with further grateful instances of our boisterous
Behaviour.
    But, in our wise Parents Eyes, all looks well, all is forgiven and excuse'd;
and for no other Reason, but because we are Theirs.
    Our next Progression is, we exercise our Spirits, when brought home, to the
Torment and Regret of our Parents themselves, and torture their Hearts by our
undutiful and perverse Behaviour to them; which, however ingrateful in us, is
but the natural Consequence of their culpable Indulgence to us, from Infancy
upwards.
    And then, next, after we have, perhaps, half broken their Hearts, a Wife is
look'd out for: Convenience, or Birth and Fortune, are the first Motives,
Affection the last (if it is at all consulted): And two People thus educated,
thus trained up in a Course of unnatural Ingratitude, and who have been
headstrong Torments to every one who has had a Share in their Education, as well
as to those to whom they owe their Being, are brought together; and what can be
expected, but that they should pursue, and carry on, the same comfortable
Conduct, in Matrimony, and join most heartily to plague one another? And, in
some measure, indeed, this is right, because hereby they revenge the Cause of
all those who have been aggrieved and insulted by them, upon one another.
    The Gentleman has never been controlled: The Lady has never been
contradicted.
    He cannot bear it from one whose new Relation, he thinks, should oblige her
to show a quite contrary Conduct.
    She thinks it very barbarous, now, for the first time, to be opposed by a
Man, from whom she expected nothing but Tenderness.
    So great is the Difference, between what they both expect from one another,
and what they both find in each other, that no wonder Misunderstandings happen;
that these ripen to Quarrels; that Acts of Unkindness pass, which, even had the
first Motive to their Union been Affection, as usually it is not, would have
effaced all manner of tender Impressions on both sides.
    Appeals to Parents or Guardians often ensue: If, by Mediation of Friends, a
Reconciliation takes place, it hardly ever holds; for why? The Fault is in the
Minds of both, and neither of them will think so; so that the Wound (not
permitted to be probed) is but skinn'd over, and rankles still at the Bottom,
and at last breaks out with more Pain and Anguish than before. Separate Beds are
often the Consequence; perhaps Elopements; if not, an unconquerable
Indifference, possibly Aversion. And whenever, for Appearance-sake, they are
obliged to be together, every one sees, that the yawning Husband, and the
vapourish Wife, are truly insupportable to one another; but, separate, have
freer Spirits, and can be tolerable Company.
    Now, my Dear, I would have you think, and, I hope, you will have no other
Reason, that had I marry'd the first Lady in the Land, I would not have treated
her better than I will my Pamela. For my Wife is my Wife; and I was the longer
in resolving on the State, because I knew its Requisites, and doubted my Conduct
in it.
    I believe I am more nice than many Gentlemen; but it is because I have been
a close Observer of the Behaviour of wedded Folks, and hardly have ever seen it
to be such as I could like in my own Case. I shall, possibly, give you
Instances, of a more particular Nature, of this, as we are longer, and, perhaps,
I might say, better acquainted.
    Had I marry'd with the Views of most Gentlemen, and with such as my good
Sister (supplying the Place of my Father and Mother) would have recommended, I
had wedded a fine Lady, brought up pretty much in my own Manner, and used to
have her Will in every thing.
    Some Gentlemen can come into a Compromise; and, after a few Struggles, sit
down tolerably contented. But, had I marry'd a Princess, I could not have done
so. I must have loved her exceedingly well, before I had consented to knit the
Knot with her, and preferr'd her to all her Sex; for without this, Pamela,
Indifferences, if not Disgust, will arise in every wedded Life, that could not
have made me happy at home; and there are fewer Instances, I believe, of Mens
loving better after Matrimony, than of Womens; the Reasons of which 'tis not my
present Purpose to account for.
    Then I must have been morally sure, that she preferr'd me to all Men; and,
to convince me of this, she must have lessen'd, not aggravated, my Failings; she
must have borne with my Imperfections; she must have watch'd and study'd my
Temper; and if ever she had any Points to carry, any Desire of overcoming, it
must have been by Sweetness and Complaisance; and yet not such a slavish one, as
should make her Condescension seem to be rather the Effect of her Insensibility,
than judgement or Affection.
    She should not have given Cause for any Part of my Conduct to her, to wear
the least Aspect of Compulsion or Force. The Word Command, on my Side, or
Obedience, on hers, I would have blotted from my Vocabulary. For this Reason I
should have thought it my Duty to have desired nothing of her, that was not
significant, reasonable, or just; and that then she should, on hers, have shown
no Reluctance, Uneasiness, or Doubt, to oblige me, even at half a Word.
    I would not have excuse'd her to let me twice injoin the same thing, while I
took such care to make her Compliance with me reasonable, and such as should not
destroy her own free Agency, in Points that ought to be allow'd her. And if I
was not always right, that yet she would bear with me, if she saw me set upon
it; and expostulate with me on the right side of Compliance; for that would show
me, (supposing small Points in Dispute, from which the greatest Quarrels, among
Friends, generally arise) that she differ'd from me, not for Contradiction-sake,
but desire'd to convince me for my own; and that I should, another time, take
better Resolutions.
    This would be so obliging a Conduct, that I should, in Justice, have doubled
my Esteem for one, who, to humour me, could give up her own judgement; and I
should see she could have no other View in her Expostulations, after her
Compliance had passed, than to rectify my Notions for the future; and it would
have been impossible then, but I must have paid the greater Deference to her
Opinion and Advice in more momentous Matters.
    In all Companies she must have shown, that she had, whether I deserved it
altogether, or not, a high Regard and Opinion of me; and this the rather, as
that such a Conduct in her, would be a Reputation and Security to herself; for
if ever we Rakes attempt a marry'd Lady, our first Encouragement, exclusive of
our own Vanity, arises from the indifferent Opinion, Slight, or Contempt she
expresses for her Husband.
    That therefore she would draw a kind Veil over my Faults; that such as she
could not hide, she would extenuate: That she would place my better Actions in
an advantageous Light, and show, that I had her good Opinion, at least, whatever
Liberties the World took with my Character.
    She must have valued my Friends for my sake; been cheerful and easy,
whomever I had brought home with me; and whatever Faults she had observed in me,
have never blamed me before Company; at least, with such an Air of Superiority
as should have shown she had a better Opinion of her own judgement, than mine.
    Now, my Pamela, this is but a faint Sketch of the Conduct I must have
expected from my Wife, let her Quality have been what it would, or have lived
with her on bad Terms. Judge then, if, to me, a Lady of the modish Taste could
have been tolerable.
    The Perverseness and Contradiction I have too often seen, in some of my
Visits, even among People of Sense, as well as Condition, had prejudiced me to
the marry'd State; and, as I knew I could not bear it, surely I was in the right
to decline it; and you see, my Dear, that I have not gone among this Class of
People for a Wife; nor know I indeed, where, in any Class, I could have sought
one, or had one, suitable to my Mind, if not you. For here is my Misfortune; I
could not have been contented to have been but moderately happy in a Wife.
    Judge you, from all this, if I could very well bear, that you should think
yourself so well secure'd of my Affection, that you could take the Faults of
others upon yourself; and, by a supposed supererogatory Merit, think your
Interposition sufficient to atone for the Faults of others.
    Yet am I not perfect myself: No, I am greatly imperfect. Yet will I not
allow, that my Imperfections shall excuse those of my Wife, or make her think I
ought to bear Faults in her, that she can rectify, because she bears greater
from me.
    Upon the Whole, I may expect, that you will bear with me, and study my
Temper, till, and only till, you see I am capable of returning Insult for
Obligation; and till you think that I shall be of a gentler Deportment, if I am
roughly used, than otherwise. One thing more I will add, That I should scorn
myself, if there was one Privilege of your Sex, that a Princess might expect, as
my Wife, to be indulg'd in, that I would not allow to my Pamela. For you are the
Wife of my Affections: I never wish'd for one before you, nor ever do I hope to
have another!
    I hope, Sir, said I, my future Conduct -- Pardon me, said he, my Dear, for
interrupting you; but it is to assure you, that I am so well convince'd of your
affectionate Regards for me, that I know I might have spared the greatest Part
of what I have said: And indeed, it must be very bad for both of us, if I should
have Reason to think it necessary to say so much. But one thing has brought on
another; and I have rather spoken what my Niceness has made me observe in other
Families, than what I fear in my own. And therefore, let me assure you, I am
thoroughly satisfy'd with your Conduct hitherto. You shall have no Occasion to
repent it. And you shall find, tho' greatly imperfect, and passionate, on
particular Provocations, (which yet I will try to overcome) that you have not a
brutal or ungenerous Husband, who is capable of offering Insult for
Condescension, or returning Evil for Good.
    I thank'd him for these kind Rules, and generous Assurances; and assured
him, that they had made so much Impression on my Mind, that these, and his most
agreeable Injunctions before given me, and such as he should hereafter be
pleased to give me, should be so many Rules for my future Conduct.
    And I am glad of the Method I have taken of making a Journal of all that
passes in these first Stages of my Happiness, because it will sink the
Impression still deeper; and I shall have recourse to them for my better
Regulation, as often as I shall mistrust my Memory.
    Let me see: What are the Rules I am to observe from this awful Lecture? Why,
these:
 
1. That I must not, when he is in great Wrath with any body, break in upon him,
without his Leave. -- Well, I'll remember it, I warrant. But yet I fancy this
Rule is almost peculiar to himself.
    2. That I must think his Displeasure the heaviest thing that can befal me.
To be sure I shall.
    3. And so that I must not wish to incur it, to save any body else. I'll be
further if I do.
    4. That I must never make a Compliment to any body at his Expense.
    5. That I must not be guilty of any Acts of wilful Meanness! There is a
great deal meant in this; and I'll endeavour to observe it all. To be sure, the
Occasion on which he mentions this, explains it; that I must say nothing, tho'
in Anger, that is spiteful or malicious; that is disrespectful or undutiful, and
such-like.
    6. That I must bear with him, even when I find him in the wrong. This is a
little hard, as the Case may be!
I wonder whether poor Miss Sally Godfrey be living or dead!
    7. That I must be as flexible as the Reed in the Fable, lest, by resisting
the Tempest, like the Oak, I be torn up by the Roots. Well! I'll do the best I
can! - There is no great Likelihood, I hope, I should be too perverse; yet,
sure, the Tempest will not lay me quite level with the Ground neither.
    8. That the Education of young People of Condition is generally wrong.
Memorandum, That if any Part of Childrens Education fall to my Lot, I never
indulge or humour them in things that they ought to be restrain'd in.
    9. That I accustom them to bear Disappointments and Controul.
    10. That I suffer them not to be too much indulged in their Infancy.
    11. Nor at School.
    12. Nor spoil them when they come home.
    13. For that Children generally extend their Perverseness from the Nurse to
the Schoolmaster; from the Schoolmaster to the Parents.
    14. And, in their next Step, as a proper Punishment for all, make their own
Selves unhappy.
    15. That undutiful and perverse Children make bad Husbands and Wives: And,
collaterally, bad Masters and Mistresses.
    16. That not being subject to be controlled early, they cannot, when
marry'd, bear one another.
    17. That the Fault lying deep, and in the Minds of each, neither will mend
it.
    18. Whence follow Misunderstandings, Quarrels, Appeals, ineffectual
Reconciliations, Separations, Elopements - or, at best, Indifference; perhaps,
Aversion. - Memorandum, A good Image of unhappy Wedlock, in the Words YAWNING
HUSBAND and VAPOURISH WIFE, when together: - But separate, both quite alive.
    19. Few marry'd Persons behave as he likes! - Let me ponder this with Awe
and Improvement.
    20. Some Gentlemen can compromise with their Wives for Quietness-sake; but
he can't. - Indeed I believe that's true! - I don't desire he should.
    21. That Love before Marriage is absolutely necessary.
    22. That there are fewer Instances of Mens than Womens loving better after
Marriage. - But why so? I wish he had given his Reasons for this! I fancy they
would not have been to the Advantage of his own Sex.
    23. That a Woman gives her Husband Reason to think she prefers him before
all Men. Well, to be sure this should be so.
    24. That if she would overcome, it must be by Sweetness and Complaisance;
that is, by yielding, he means, no doubt.
    25. Yet not such a slavish one neither, as should rather seem the Effect of
her Insensibility, than judgement or Affection!
    26. That the Words COMMAND and OBEY shall be blotted out of his Vocabulary.
Very good!
    27. That a Man should desire nothing of his Wife but what is significant,
reasonable, just. To be sure that is right.
    28. But then, that she must not show Reluctance, Uneasiness, or Doubt, to
oblige him; and that too at half a Word; and must not be bid twice to do one
thing. - But may not there be some Occasions, where this may be a little
dispens'd with? But he says afterwards, indeed,
    29. That this must be only while he took care to make her Compliance
reasonable, and consistent with her free Agency, in Points that ought to be
allow'd her. - Come, this is pretty well, considering.
    30. That if the Husband be set upon a wrong Thing, she must not dispute with
him, but do it, and expostulate afterwards. - Good-sirs! I don't know what to
say to this! - It looks a little hard, methinks! - This would bear a smart
Debate, I fancy, in a Parliament of Women. - But then he says,
    31. Supposing they are only small Points that are in Dispute. - Well, this
mends it a little. For small Points, I think, should not be stood upon.
    32. That the greatest Quarrels among Friends, and Wives and Husbands are or
should be Friends, arise from small Matters. - I believe this is very true; for
I had like to have had Anger here, when I intended very well.
    33. That a Wife should not desire to convince her Husband for CONTRADICTION
sake; but for HIS OWN. As both will find their Account in this, if one does; I
believe 'tis very just.
    34. That in all Companies a Wife must show Respect and Love to her Husband.
    35. And this for the sake of her own Reputation and Security; for,
    36. That Rakes cannot have a greater Encouragement to attempt a marry'd
Lady's Virtue, than her slight Opinion of her Husband. To be sure, this stands
to Reason, and is a fine Lesson.
    37. That a Wife should therefore draw a kind Veil over her Husband's Faults.
    38. That such as she could not conceal, she should extenuate.
    39. That his Virtues she should place in an Advantageous Light.
    40. And show the World, that he had HER good Opinion at least.
    41. That she must value his Friends for his sake.
    42. That she must be cheerful and easy in her Behaviour, to whomsoever he
brings home with him.
    43. That whatever Faults she sees in him, she never blames him before
Company.
    44. At least, with such an Air of Superiority, as if she had a less Opinion
of his judgement than her own.
    45. That a Man of nice Observation cannot be contented to be only moderately
happy in a Wife.
    46. That a Wife take care how she ascribe supererogatory Merit to herself;
so as to take the Faults of others upon her. - Indeed, I think it is well if we
can bear our own! This is of the same Nature with the Third. And touches upon me
on the present Occasion, for this wholsome Lecture.
    47. That his Imperfections must not be a Plea for hers. To be sure, 'tis no
matter how good the Women are; but 'tis to be hoped, Men will allow a little.
But, indeed, he says,
    48. That a Husband who expects all this, is to be incapable of returning
Insult for Obligation, or Evil for Good; and ought not to abridge her of any
Privilege of her Sex.
 
Well, my dear Parents, I think this last Rule crowns the rest, and makes them
all very tolerable; and a generous Man, and a Man of Sense, cannot be too much
obliged. And, as I have this Happiness, I shall be very unworthy, if I do not
always so think, and so act.
    Yet, after all, you'll see I have not the easiest Task in the World. But I
know my own Intentions, that I shall not wilfully err; and so fear the less.
    Not one Hint did he give, that I durst lay hold of, about poor Miss Sally
Godfrey. I wish my Lady had not spoken of it. For it has given me a Curiosity
that is not quite so pretty in me; especially so early in my Nuptials, and in a
Case so long ago past. Yet he intimated too, to his Sister, that he had had
other Faults, (of this Sort, I suppose) that had not come to her Knowledge! -
But I make no Doubt, he has seen his Error, and will be very good for the
future. I wish it, and pray it may be so, for his own dear sake!
 

                            Wednesday, the Seventh.

When I arose in the Morning, I went to wait on Lady Davers, seeing her Door
open; and she was in Bed, but awake, and talking to her Woman. I said, I hope I
don't disturb your Ladyship: No, not at all, said she; I am glad to see you. How
do you? - Well, added she, when do you set out for Bedfordshire? I said, I can't
tell, Madam. It was design'd as to-day; but I have heard no more of it.
    Sit down, said she, on the Bed-side. - I find, by the Talk we had Yesterday
and last Night, you have had but a poor Time of it, Pamela, (I must call you so
yet, said she) since you was brought to this House, till within these few Days.
And Mrs. Jewkes too has given Beck such an Account, as makes me pity you.
    Indeed, Madam, said I, if your Ladyship knew all, you would pity me; for
never poor Creature was so hard put to it. But I ought to forget it all now, and
be thankful.
    Why, said she, as far as I can find, 'tis a Mercy you are here now. I was
sadly moved with some part of your Story. And you have really made a noble
Defence, and deserve the Praises of all our Sex.
    It was God enabled me, Madam, reply'd I. Why, said she, 'tis the more
extraordinary, because, I believe, if the Truth was known, you love'd the Wretch
not a little. While my Trials lasted, Madam, said I, I had not a Thought of any
thing, but to preserve my Innocence; much less of Love.
    But tell me truly, said she, Did you not love him all the time? I had
always, Madam, answer'd I, a great Reverence for my Master, and thought all his
good Actions doubly good; and for his naughty ones, tho' I abhorr'd his Attempts
upon me, yet I could not hate him; and always wish'd him well; but I did not
know that it was Love. Indeed I had not the Presumption!
    Sweet Girl! said she; that's prettily said: But when he found he could not
gain his Ends, and begun to be sorry for your Sufferings, and to admire your
Virtue, and to profess honourable Love to you, What did you think?
    Think, and please your Ladyship! I did not know what to think! I could
neither hope, nor believe so great an Honour would fall to my Lot; and I fear'd
more from his Kindness, for some time, than I had done from his Unkindness: And
having had a private Intimation, from a kind Friend, of a Sham-marriage
intended, by means of a Man who was to personate a Minister, it kept my Mind in
too much Suspense, to be greatly overjoy'd at his kind Declaration.
    Said she, I think he did make two or three Attempts upon you in
Bedfordshire? Yes, Madam, said I, he was very naughty, to be sure!
    And here, he proposed Articles to you, I understand? Yes, Madam, reply'd I;
but I abhorr'd so much the Thoughts of being a kept Creature, that I rejected
them with great Boldness; and was resolved to die before I would consent to
them.
    He afterwards attempted you, I think; Did he not? O, yes, Madam! said I, a
most sad Attempt he made; and I had like to have been lost; for Mrs. Jewkes was
not so good as she should have been. And so I told her Ladyship that sad Offer,
and how I fell into Fits; and that they, believing me dying, forbore. Any
Attempts after this base one? said she.
    He was not so good as he should have been, return'd I, once, in the Garden,
afterwards; but I was so watchful, and so ready to take the Alarm!
    But, said she, did he not threaten you, at times, and put on his stern Airs,
every now-and-then? - Threaten, Madam! reply'd I; yes, I had enough of that! - I
thought I should have dy'd for Fear, several times. How could you bear that?
said she: For he is a most daring and majestick Mortal! He has none of your puny
Hearts, but as courageous as a Lion; and, Boy and Man, never fear'd any thing. I
myself, said she, have a pretty good Spirit; but when I have made him truly
angry, I have always been forced to make it up with him, as well as I could.
For, Child, he is not one that is easily reconciled, I'll assure you.
    But, after he had profess'd honourable Love to you, Did he never attempt you
again? No, indeed, Madam, he did not. But he was a good while struggling with
himself, and with his Pride, as he called it, before he could stoop so low; and
consider'd, and consider'd again: And once, upon my saying but two or three
Words, that displeas'd him, when he was very kind to me, he turn'd me out of
Doors, in a manner, at an Hour's Warning; for he sent me above a Day's Journey
towards my Father's; and then sent a Man and Horse, Post-haste, to fetch me back
again; and has been exceedingly kind and gracious to me ever since, and made me
happy.
    That sending you away, said she, one Hour, and sending after you the next,
is exactly like my Brother; and 'tis well if he don't turn you off twice or
thrice before a Year come about, if you vex him: And he would have done the same
by the first Lady in the Land, if he had been marry'd to her. Yet has he his
Virtues, as well as his Faults; for he is generous, nay, he is noble in his
Spirit; hates little dirty Actions; he delights in doing Good: But does not pass
over a wilful Fault easily. He is wise, prudent, sober and magnanimous; and will
not tell a Lye, nor disguise his Faults; but you must not expect to have him all
to yourself, I doubt.
    But I'll no more harp upon this String: You see how he was exasperated at
me; and he seem'd to be angry at you too; tho' something of it was Art, I
believe.
    Indeed, Madam, said I, he has been pleased to give me a most noble Lecture;
and I find he was angry with me in Earnest, and that it will not be an easy Task
to behave unexceptionably to him: For he is very nice and delicate in his
Notions, I perceive; but yet, as your Ladyship says, exceeding generous.
    Well, says she, I'm glad thou hadst a little bit of his Anger, else I should
have thought it Art; and I don't love to be treated with low Art, any more than
he; and I should have been vex'd, if he had done it by me.
    But I understand, Child, says she, that you keep a Journal of all Matters
that pass, and he has several times found means to get at it: Should you care I
should see it? It could not be to your Disadvantage; for I find it had no small
Weight with him in your Favour; and I should take great Pleasure to read all his
Stratagems, Attempts, Contrivances, Menaces, and Offers to you, on one hand; and
all your pretty Counter-plottings, which he much praises, your resolute
Resistance, and the noble Stand you have made to preserve your Virtue; and the
Steps by which his Pride was subdued, and his Mind induced to honourable Love,
till you were made what you now are: For it must be a rare, an uncommon Story;
and will not only give me great Pleasure in reading, but will entirely reconcile
me to the Step he has taken. And that, let me tell you, is what I never thought
to be; for I had gone a great way in bringing about a Match with him and Lady
Betty --; and had said so much of it, that the Earl, her Father, approv'd of it;
and so did the Duke of --, her Uncle; and Lady Betty herself was not averse: And
now shall I be hunted to Death about it; and this has made me so outrageous as
you have seen me upon the Matter. But when I can find, by your Writings, that
your Virtue is but suitably rewarded, it will be not only a good Excuse for me,
but for him, and make me love you.
    There is nothing that I would not do, said I, to oblige your Ladyship; but
my poor Father and Mother (who would rather have seen me buried quick in the
Earth, than to be seduced by the greatest of Princes) have them in their Hands
at present; and your dear Brother has bespoken them, when they have done reading
them; but if he gives me Leave, I will show them to your Ladyship with all my
Heart; not doubting your generous Allowances, as I have had his; tho' I have
treated him very freely all the way, while he had naughty Views; and that your
Ladyship would consider them as the naked Sentiments of my Heart, from Time to
Time, deliver'd to those, whose Indulgence I was sure of; and for whose Sight,
only, they were written.
    Give me a Kiss now, said her Ladyship, for your cheerful Compliance; for I
make no doubt my Brother will consent I shall see them, because they must needs
make for your Honour; and I see he loves you better than any one in the World.
    I have heard, continued her Ladyship, a mighty good Character of your
Parents, as industrious, honest, sensible, good Folks, who know the World; and,
as I doubt not my Brother's Generosity, I am glad they will make no ill Figure
in the World's Eye.
    Madam, said I, they are the honestest, the lovingest, and the most
conscientious Couple breathing. They once lived creditably; brought up a great
Family, of which I am the youngest; but had Misfortunes, thro' their doing
beyond their Power for two unhappy Brothers, who are both dead, and whose Debts
they stood bound for, and so became reduced, and, by harsh Creditors, (where
most of the Debts were not of their own contracting) turn'd out of all; and
having, without Success, try'd to set up a little Country School, (for my Father
understood a little of Accompts, and wrote a pretty good Hand) forced to take to
hard Labour; but honest all the Time; contented; never repining; and loving to
one another; and, in the midst of their Poverty and Disappointments, above all
Temptation; and all their Fear was, that I should be wicked, and yield to
Temptation, for the sake of worldly Riches: And to God's Grace, and their good
Lessons, and those I imbib'd from my dear good Lady, your Ladyship's Mother, it
is that I owe the Preservation of my Innocence, and the happy Station I now am
exalted to.
    She was pleased to kiss me again, and said, There is such a noble Simplicity
in thy Story, such an honest Artlesness in thy Mind, and such a sweet Humility
in thy Deportment, notwithstanding thy present Station, that I believe I shall
be forced to love thee, whether I will or not: And the Sight of your Papers, I
dare say, will crown the Work, will disarm my Pride, banish my Resentment on
Lady Betty's account, and justify my Brother's Conduct; and, at the same time,
redound to your own everlasting Honour, as well as to the Credit of our Sex: And
so I make no doubt but my Brother will let me see them.
    Mrs. Worden, said my Lady, I can say any thing before you; and you will take
no Notice of our Conversation; but I see you are much touched with it: Did you
ever hear any thing prettier, more unaffected, sincere, free, easy? - No, never,
Madam, answer'd she, in my Life; and it is a great Pleasure, to see so happy a
Reconciliation taking Place, where there is so much Merit.
    I said, I have discover'd so much Prudence in Mrs. Worden, that, as well for
that, as for the Confidence your Ladyship places in her, I have made no Scruple
of speaking my Mind freely before her; and of blaming my dear Master, while he
was blame-worthy, as well as acknowledging his transcendent Goodness to me
since; which, I am sure, exceeds all I can ever deserve. May-be not, said my
Lady. I hope you'll be very happy in one another; and I'll now rise, and tell
him my Thoughts, and ask him to let me have the reading of your Papers; for I
promise myself much Pleasure in them; and shall not grudge a Journey, and a
Visit to you, to the other House, to fetch them.
    Your Ladyship's Favour, said I, was all I had to wish for; and if I have
that, and the Continuance of your dear Brother's Goodness to me, I shall be easy
under whatever else may happen.
    And so I took my Leave, and withdrew; and she let me hear her say to Mrs.
Worden, 'Tis a charming Creature, Mrs. Worden! - I know not which excels, her
Person or her Mind! - And so young a Creature too! - Well may my Brother love
her!
    I am afraid, my dear Father and Mother, I shall now be too proud indeed. - I
had once a good mind to have asked her Ladyship about Miss Sally Godfrey; but I
thought it was better let alone, as she did not mention it herself. May-be, I
shall hear it too soon. But I hope not! - I wonder, tho', whether she be living
or dead!
    We breakfasted together with great good Temper; and my Lady was very kind,
and asking my good Master, he gave Leave, very readily, she should see all my
Papers, when you return'd them to me; and he said, He was sure, when she came to
read them, she would say, that I had well deserve'd the Fortune I had met with,
and would be of Opinion, that, all the Kindness of his future Life would hardly
be a sufficient Reward for my Virtue, and make me Amends for my Sufferings.
 
My Lady resolving to set out the next Morning, to return to her Lord, my Master
order'd every thing to be made ready for his doing the like, to Bedfordshire;
and this Evening our good Neighbours will sup with us, to take Leave of my Lady
and us.
 

                                Wednesday Night.

Nothing particular having passed at Dinner and Supper, but the most
condescending Goodness, on my Lady's side, to me; and the highest Civilities
from Mr. Peters's Family; from Lady Jones, from Sir Simon's Family, etc. and
reciprocal good Wishes all round; and a Promise obtain'd from my Benefactor,
that he would endeavour to pass a Fortnight or three Weeks in these Parts,
before the Winter set in; I shall conclude this Day with observing, that I
disposed of the Money my Master was so good to put into my Hands, in the Method
he was pleased to direct; and I gave Mrs. Jewkes hers, in such a manner, as
highly pleased her; and she wished me, with Tears, all kind of Happiness; and
pray'd me to forgive her all her past Wickedness to me, as she herself called
it. I begg'd Leave of my Master to present Mrs. Worden with Five Guineas, for a
Pair of Gloves; which he said was well thought of.
 

                                   Saturday.

On Thursday Morning my Lady set out for her own Seat; and my good Sir and I,
attended by Mr. Colbrand, Abraham and Thomas, for this dear House. Her Ladyship
parted with her Brother and me with great Tenderness, and made me promise to
send her my Papers; which I find she intends to entertain Lady Betty with, and
another Lady or two, her Intimates, as also her Lord; and hopes to find, as I
believe, in the Reading of them, some Excuse for her Brother's Choice.
 
My dearest Master has been all Love and Tenderness on the Road, as he is in
every Place, and on every Occasion. And Oh! what a delightful Change was this
Journey, to that which, so contrary to all my Wishes, and so much to my
Apprehensions, carry'd me hence to the Lincolnshire House! And how did I bless
God at every Turn, and at every Stage!
    We did not arrive here till yesterday Noon. Abraham rode before, to let them
know we were coming. And I had the Satisfaction to find every body there I
wished to see. When the Chariot enter'd the Courtyard, I was so strongly
impress'd with the Favour and Mercies of God Almighty, on remembering how I was
sent away the last time I saw this House; the Leave I took; the Dangers I had
encounter'd; a poor cast-off Servant Girl; and now returning a joyful Wife, and
the Mistress, thro' his Favour, of the noble House I was turn'd out of; that I
was hardly able to support the Joy I felt in my Mind on the Occasion. He saw how
much I was moved, and tenderly ask'd me, why I seem'd so affected? I told him,
and lifted his dear Hand to my Lips, and said, O, Sir! God's Mercies, and your
Goodness to me, on entering this dear, dear Place, are above my Expression! I
can hardly bear the Thoughts of them! - He said, Welcome, thrice welcome, Joy of
my Life! to your own House: And kissed my Hand in Return. All the common
Servants stood at the Windows, as unseen as they could, to observe us. He took
my Hand, with the most condescending Goodness in the World, and, with great
Complaisance, led me into the Parlour, and kissed me with the greatest Ardour.
Welcome again, my dearest Spouse, said he, a thousand times welcome, to the
Possession of a House that is not more mine than yours.
    I threw myself at his Feet: Permit me, dear Sir, thus to bless God, and
thank you, for all his Mercies, and your Goodness. O may I so behave, as not to
be utterly unworthy; and then how happy shall I be! God give me, my Dearest,
said he, Life and Health to reward all your Sweetness: And no Man can be then so
blessed as I!
    Where (said he to Abraham, who passed by the Door, Where) is Mrs. Jervis? -
She bolted in! Here, good Sir, said she, here, good Madam, am I, waiting
impatiently, till called for, to congratulate you both! - I ran to her, and
clasp'd my Arms about her Neck, and kissed her: O my dear Mrs. Jervis! said I,
my other dear Mother! receive your happy, happy, Pamela: And join with me to
bless God, and bless our Master, for all these great Things! - I was ready to
sink into her Arms thro' Excess of Joy, to see the dear good Woman, who had been
so often a mournful Witness of my Distress, as now of my Triumph! - Dearest
Madam, said she, you do me too much Honour. Let my whole Life show the Joy I
take in your deserve'd good Fortune, and in my Duty to you, for the early
Instance I received of your Goodness in your kind Letter. O, Mrs. Jervis,
reply'd I, There all Thanks are due, both from you and me: For our dear Master
granted me this Blessing, as I may justly call it, the very first Moment I
begg'd it of him. Your Goodness, Sir, said she, I will for ever acknowledge; and
I beg Pardon for the wrong Step I made, in applying to my Lady Davers. - He was
so good as to salute her, and said, All's over now, Mrs. Jervis; and I shall not
remember you ever disoblig'd me. I always respected you, and shall now, more and
more, value you, for the sake of that dear good Creature, that, with Joy
unfeign'd, I can call my Wife. God bless your Honour, for ever! said she; and
many, many happy Years may ye live together, the Envy and Wonder of all who know
you!
    But where, said my dear Master, is honest Longman? and where is Jonathan? -
Come, Mrs. Jervis, said I, you shall show me them, and all the good Folks,
presently; and let me go up with you to behold the dear Apartments, which I have
seen before with such different Emotions to what I shall now do.
    We went up; and in every Room, the Chamber I took Refuge in, when my Master
pursue'd me, my Lady's Chamber, her Dressing-room, Mrs. Jervis's Room, not
forgetting her Closet, my own little Bed-chamber, the Green-room, and in each of
the others, I kneeled down severally, and blessed God for my past Escapes, and
present Happiness; and the good Woman was quite affected with the Zeal and
Pleasure with which I made my thankful Acknowledgments to the Divine Goodness. O
my excellent Lady! said she, you are still the same good, pious, humble Soul I
knew you; and your Marriage has added to your Graces, as I hope it will to your
Blessings.
    Dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, you know not what I have gone thro'! You know not
what God has done for me! You know not what a happy Creature I am now! I have a
thousand, thousand things to tell you; and a whole Week would be too little,
every Moment of it spent in relating to you what has befallen me, to make you
acquainted with it all. We shall be sweetly happy together, I make no doubt. But
I charge you, my dear Mrs. Jervis, whatever you call me before Strangers, that
when we are by ourselves, you call me nothing but your Pamela. For what an
ingrateful Creature should I be, who have receive'd so many Mercies at the Hand
of God, if I attributed them not to his Divine Goodness, but assumed to myself
insolent Airs upon them! No, I hope, I shall be more and more thankful, as I am
more and more blessed; and more humble, as God, the Author of all my Happiness,
shall more distinguish me.
    We went down again to the Parlour, to my dear Master. Said he, Call in again
Mr. Longman; he longs to see you, my Dear. He came in: God bless you, my sweet
Lady, said he; as now, God be praised, I may call you. Did I not tell you,
Madam, that Providence would find you out? O, Mr. Longman, said I, God be
praised for all his Mercies! -- I am rejoiced to see you; and I laid my Hand on
his, and said, Good Mr. Longman, how do you do! - I must always value you; and
you don't know how much of my present Happiness I owe to the Sheets of Paper,
and Pens and Ink you furnish'd me with. I hope, my dear Sir and you are quite
reconciled. - O Madam, said he, how good you are! - Why, I cannot contain myself
for Joy! and then he wiped his Eyes, good Man!
    Said my Master, Yes, I have been telling Mr. Longman, that I am obliged to
him for his ready Return to me; and that I will entirely forget his Appeal to
Lady Davers; and I hope he'll find himself quite as easy and happy as he wishes.
-- My Partner here, Mr. Longman, I dare promise you, will do all she can to make
you so. God bless you both together! said he. 'Tis the Pride of my Heart to see
this! - I return'd with double Delight, when I heard the blessed News; and I am
sure, Sir, said he, mark old Longman's Words, God will bless you for this every
Year more and more! - You don't know how many Hearts you have made happy by this
generous Deed! - I am glad of it, said my dear Master; I am sure I have made my
own happy: And, Mr. Longman, tho' I must think you SOMEBODY, yet, as you are not
a young Man, and so won't make me jealous, I can allow you to wish my dear Wife
Joy in the tenderest manner. Adad, Sir, said he, I am sure you rejoice me with
your Favour: 'Twas what I long'd for, but durst not presume. My Dear, said my
Master, receive the Compliment of one of the honestest Hearts in England, that
always rever'd your Virtues! - And the good Man saluted me with great Respect;
and said, God in Heaven bless you both, and kneeled on one Knee. I must quit
your Presence! Indeed I must! - And away he went.
    Your Goodness, Sir, said I, knows no Bounds! O may my Gratitude never find
any! - I saw, said my Master, when the good Man approach'd you, that he did it
with so much Awe and Love mingled together, that I fansied he long'd to salute
my Angel; and I could not but indulge his honest Heart. How bless'd am I, said
I, and kiss'd his Hand - And indeed I make nothing now of kissing his dear Hand,
as if it was my own!
    When honest old Mr. Jonathan came in to attend at Dinner, so clean, so
sleek, and so neat, as he always is, with his silver Hair, I said, Well, Mr.
Jonathan, how do you? I am glad to see you? - You look as well as ever, thank
God! O dear, Madam! said he, better than ever, to have such a blessed Sight! -
God bless you and my good Master! - and I hope, Sir, said he, you'll excuse all
my past Failings. Ay, that I will, Jonathan, said he; because you never had any,
but what your Regard for my dear Spouse here was the Occasion of. And now I can
tell you, you can never err, because you cannot respect her too much. O Sir,
said he, your Honour is exceeding good. I'm sure I shall always pray for you
both.
    After Dinner Mr. Longman coming in, and talking of some Affairs under his
Care, he said afterwards, All your Honour's Servants are now happy; for Robert,
who left you, had a pretty little Fortune fallen to him, or he never would have
quitted your Service. He was here but Yesterday, to enquire when you and my Lady
return'd hither; and hop'd he might have Leave to pay his Duty to you both. Ay,
said my Master, I shall be glad to see honest Robin; for that's another of your
Favourites, Pamela. - It was high time, I think, I should marry you, were it but
to engage the Respects of all my Family to myself. There are, Sir, said I, ten
thousand Reasons why I should rejoice in your Goodness.
    But I was going to say, said Mr. Longman, That all your Honour's old
Servants are now happy, but one. You mean John Arnold? said my Master. I do,
indeed, said he, if you'll excuse me, Sir. O said I, I have had my Prayer for
poor John answer'd, as favourably as I could wish. - Why, said Mr. Longman, to
be sure poor John has acted no very good Part, take it all together; but he so
much honour'd you, Sir, and so much respected you, Madam, that he would have
been glad to have been obedient to both; and so was faithful to neither. But
indeed the poor Fellow's Heart's almost broke, and he won't look out for any
other Place; and says, he must live in your Honour's Service, or he must die
wretched very shortly. Mrs. Jervis was there when this was said; Indeed, says
she, the poor Man has been here every Day since he heard the Tidings that have
rejoiced us all; and he says, he hopes he shall yet be forgiven. Is he in the
House now? said my Master. He is, Sir; and was here when your Honour came in,
and play'd at hide-and-seek to have one Look at you both when you alighted; and
was ready to go out of his Wits for Joy, when he saw your Honour hand my Lady
in. Pamela, said my dear Master, you're to do with John as you please. You have
full Power. Then pray Sir, said I, let poor John come in.
    The poor Fellow came in, with so much Confusion, that I have never seen a
Countenance that express'd so lively Consciousness of his Faults, and mingled
Joy and Shame. How do you do, John? said I; I hope you're very well! - The poor
Fellow could hardly speak, and look'd with Awe upon my Master, and Pleasure upon
me. Said my Master, Well, John, there is no room to say any thing to a Man that
has so much Concern already: I am told you will serve me whether I will or not;
but I turn you over altogether to my Spouse here. And she is to do by you as she
pleases. You see, John, said I, your good Master's Indulgence. Well may I
forgive, that have so generous an Example. I was always persuaded of your honest
Intentions, if you had known how to distinguish between your Duty to your
Master, and your Good-will to me: You will now have no more Puzzles on that
Account, from the Goodness of your dear Master. I shall be but too happy said
the poor Man. God bless your Honour! God bless you, Madam! - I now have the Joy
of my Soul, in serving you both; and I will make the best of Servants, to my
Power. Well then, John, said I, your Wages will go on, as if you had not left
your Master: May I not say so, Sir? said I. Yes, surely, my Dear, reply'd he,
and augment them too, if you find his Duty to you deserves it. A thousand
Million of Thanks, said the poor Man: I am very well satisfy'd, and desire no
Augmentation; and so he withdrew overjoy'd; and Mrs. Jervis and Mr. Longman were
highly pleas'd; for tho' they were incens'd against him for his Fault to me,
when Matters look'd badly for me, yet they, and all his Fellow-servants, always
love'd John.
    When Mr. Longman and Mrs. Jervis had din'd, they came in again, to know if
he had any Commands; and my dear Master filling a Glass of Wine, said, Mr.
Longman, I am going to toast the happiest and honestest Couple in England, my
dear Pamela's Father and Mother. - Thank you, dear Sir, said I.
    Said he, I think that little Kentish Purchase wants a Manager; and as it is
a little out of your Way, Mr. Longman, I have been purposing, if I thought Mr.
Andrews would accept of it, that he should enter upon Hodges's Farm, that was,
and so manage for me that whole little Affair; and we will well stock the Farm
for him, and make it comfortable; and I think, if he will take that Trouble upon
him, it will be an Ease to you, and a Favour to me.
    Your Honour, said he, cannot do a better thing; and I have had some Inkling
given me, that you might, if you pleased, augment that Estate, by a Purchase, of
equal Amount, contiguous to it; and as you have so much Money to spare, I can't
see your Honour can do better. Well, said he, let me have the particulars
another time, and we will consider about it. But my Dear, added he, you'll
mention this to your Father, if you please.
    I have too much Money, Mr. Longman, continue'd he, lies useless; tho', upon
this Occasion, I shall not grudge laying out as much in Liveries, and other
things, as if I had marry'd a Lady of a Fortune equal, if possible, to my
Pamela's Merit; and I reckon you have a good deal in Hand. Yes, Sir, said he,
more than I wish I had. But I have a Mortgage in View, if you don't buy that
Kentish thing, that I believe will answer very well; and when Matters are riper,
will mention it to your Honour.
    I took with me to Lincolnshire, said my Master, upwards of Six hundred
Guineas, and thought to have laid most of them out there (Thank God, thought I,
you did not! for he offer'd me Five hundred of them, you know!) But I have not
laid out above Two hundred and fifty of them; so Two hundred I left there in my
Escritoire; because I shall go again for a Fortnight or so, before Winter; and
Two hundred I have brought with me. And I have Money, I know not what, in three
Places here; the Account of which is in my Pocket-book, in my Library.
    You have made some little Presents, Pamela, to my Servants there, on our
Nuptials; and these Two hundred that I have brought up, I will put into your
Disposal, that, with some of them, you shall do here as you did there.
    I am asham'd, good Sir, said I, to be so costly and so worthless! Pray, my
Dear, said he, say not a Word of that.
    Said Mr. Longman, Why, Madam, with Money in Stocks, and one thing or
another, his Honour could buy half the Gentlemen round him. He wants not Money,
and lays up every Year. And it would have been pity, but his Honour should have
wedded just as he has. Very true, Mr. Longman, said my Master; and pulling out
his Purse, said, Tell out, my Dear, Two hundred Guineas, and give me the rest. -
I did so. Now, said he, take them yourself, for the Purposes I mentioned. But,
Mr. Longman, do you, before Sun-set, bring my dear Girl Fifty Pounds, which is
due to her this Day, by my Promise; and every three Months, from this Day, pay
her Fifty Pounds more; which will be Two hundred Pounds per Annum; and this is
for her to lay out at her own Discretion, and without Account, in such a way, as
shall derive a Blessing upon us all: For she was my Mother's Almoner, and shall
be mine, and her own too. - I'll go for it this Instant, said Mr. Longman.
    When he was gone, I looked upon my dear generous Master, and on Mrs. Jervis;
and he gave me a Nod of Assent; and I took Twenty Guineas, and said, Dear Mrs.
Jervis, accept of this; which is no more than my generous Master order'd me to
present to Mrs. Jewkes, for a pair of Gloves, on my happy Nuptials, and so you,
who are so much better entitled to them, by the Love I bear you, must not refuse
them.
    Said she, Mrs. Jewkes was on the Spot, Madam, at the happy Time. Yes, said
my Master, but Pamela would have rejoiced to have had you there instead of her.
That I should, Sir, reply'd I, or instead of any body except my own Mother. She
gratefully accepted them, and thank'd us both: But I don't know what she should
thank me for; for I was not worth a fourth Part of them myself.
    I'd have you, my Dear, said he, in some handsome manner, as you know how,
oblige Longman to accept of the like Present.
    Mr. Longman return'd from his Office, and brought me the fifty Pounds,
saying, I have enter'd this new Article with great Pleasure. To my Lady - Fifty
Pounds, to be paid the same Sum quarterly. O Sir, said I, what will become of me
to be so poor in myself, and so rich in your Bounty. - It is a Shame to take all
that your profuse Goodness would heap upon me thus: But indeed it shall not be
without Account. - Make no Words, my Dear, said he. Are you not my Wife? And
have I not endow'd you with my Goods? and, hitherto, this is a very small Part.
    Mr. Longman, said I, and Mrs. Jervis, you both see how I am even oppress'd
with unreturnable Obligations. God bless the Donor, and God bless the Receiver!
said Mr. Longman; I am sure they will bring back good Interest; for, Madam, you
had ever a bountiful Heart; and I have seen the Pleasure you used to take to
dispense my late Lady's Alms and Donations.
    I'll warrant, Mr. Longman, said I, notwithstanding you are so willing to
have me take large Sums for nothing at all, I should affront you, if I asked you
to accept from me a Pair of Gloves only, on Account of my happy Nuptials. He
seem'd not readily to know how to answer, and my Master said, If Mr. Longman
refuse you, my Dear, he may be said to refuse your first Favour. On that I put
twenty Guineas in his Hand; but he insisted upon it, that he would take but
Five. I said, I must desire you to oblige me, Mr. Longman, or I shall think I
have affronted you. Well, if I must, said he, I know what I know. What is that,
Mr. Longman, said I? - Why, Madam, said he, I will not lay it out till my young
Master's Birth Day, which I hope will be within this Twelve-month.
    Not expecting any thing like this from the old Gentleman, I look'd at my
Master, and then blush'd so, I could not hold up my Head. Charmingly said, Mr.
Longman, said my Master, and clasped me in his Arms; O my dear Life! God send it
may be so. - You have quite delighted me, Mr. Longman! Tho' I durst not have
said such a Thing for the World. - Madam, said the old Gentleman, I beg your
Pardon; I hope no Offence. But I'd speak it ten times in a Breath to have it so,
take it how you please, as long as my good Master takes it so well. Mrs. Jervis,
said my Master, this is an over-nice dear Creature; you don't know what a Life I
have had with her, even on this side Matrimony. - Said Mrs. Jervis, I think Mr.
Longman says very well; I am sure I shall hope for it too.
    Mr. Longman, who had struck me of a Heap, withdrawing soon after, my Master
said, Why, My Dear, you can't look up! The old Man said nothing shocking. I did
not expect it, tho', from him, said I. I was not aware but of some innocent
Pleasantry. Why, so it was, said he, both innocent and pleasant. And I won't
forgive you, if you don't say as he says. Come, speak before Mrs. Jervis. May
every thing happen, Sir, said I, that will give you Delight! - That's my dear
Love, said he, and kiss'd me with great Tenderness.
 
When the Servants had dined, I desired to see the Maidens, and all Four came up
together. You are welcome home, Madam, said Rachel; We rejoice all to see you
here, and more to see you our Lady. O my good old Acquaintances, said I, you see
how good God, and the best of Gentlemen have been to me! O I joy to see you! How
do you do, Rachel? How do you do, Jane? How do you do, Hannah? How do you do,
Cicely? And I took each of them by the Hand, and could have kissed them. - For,
said I to myself, I kissed you all last time I saw you, in Sorrow; why should I
not kiss you all with Joy? But I forbore in Honour of their dear Master's
Presence.
    They seem'd quite transported with me; and my good Master was pleas'd with
the Scene. See here, my Lasses, said he, your Mistress! I need not bid you
respect her; for you always love'd her; and she'll have it as much in her Power
as Inclination to be kind to the Deserving. Indeed, said I, I shall always be a
kind Friend to you; and your dear good Master, has order'd me to give each of
you this, that you may rejoice with me, on my Happiness. And so I gave them five
Guineas a-piece; and said God bless you every one. I am over-joy'd to see you! -
And they withdrew with the greatest Gratitude and Pleasure, praying for us both.
    I turn'd to my dear Master, 'Tis to you, dear Sir, said I, next to God, who
put it into your generous Heart, that all my Happiness is owing! That my Mind
thus overflows with Joy and Gratitude! And I would have kissed his Hand; but he
clasped me in his Arms, and said, You deserve it, my Dear! You deserve it all.
Mrs. Jervis came in; said she, I have seen a very affecting Sight; you have made
your Maidens quite happy, Madam, with your Kindness and Condescension! I saw
them all Four, as I came by the Hall Door, just got up from their Knees,
praising and praying for you both! Dear good Bodies, said I; and did Jane pray
too? God return their Prayers upon themselves, I say.
    My Master sent for Jonathan, and I held up all the Fingers of my two Hands;
and my Master giving a Nod of Approbation as he came in, I said, Well, Mr.
Jonathan, I could not be satisfy'd without seeing you in Form, as it were, and
thanking you for all your past Good-will to me. You'll accept of that for a Pair
of Gloves, on this happy Occasion; and I gave him ten Guineas, and took his
honest Hand between both mine: God bless you, said I, with your Silver Hairs, so
like my dear Father! - I shall always value such a good old Servant of the best
of Masters! - He said, O such Goodness! Such kind Words! - It is Balm to my
Heart! Blessed be God I have lived to this Day! - And his Eyes swam in Tears,
and he withdrew. - My Dear, said my Master, you make every one happy! - O Sir,
said I, 'tis you, 'tis you; and let my grateful Heart always spring to my Lips,
to acknowledge the Blessings you heap upon me.
    Then in came Harry, and Isaac, and Benjamin, and the two Grooms of this
House, and Arthur the Gardener, for my dear Master had order'd them by Mrs.
Jervis thus to be marshall'd out; and he said, Where's John? Poor John was
asham'd, and did not come in till he heard himself call'd for. I said to them,
How do you do, Henry? How do you do, Isaac? How do you do, Benjamin? How do you
do, Arthur? And you, and you, Richard and Roger? God bless you every one. My
Master said, I have given you a Mistress, my Lads, that is the Joy of my Heart.
You see her Goodness and Condescension! Let your Respects to her be but
answerable, and she'll be proportionably as great a Blessing to you all as she
is to me. Harry said, In the Names of all your Servants, Sir, I bless your
Honour and your good Lady: And it shall be all our Studies to deserve her
Ladyship's Favour, as well as your Honour's. And so I gave every one five
Guineas, to rejoice, as I said, in my Happiness.
    When I came to John, I said, I saw you before, John; but I again tell you, I
am glad to see you. He said, he was quite asham'd and confounded. O, said I,
forget every thing that's past, John! - Your dear good Master will, and so will
I. For God has wonderfully brought about all these Things, by the very Means I
once thought most grievous. Let us therefore look forward, and be only asham'd
to commit Faults for the Time to come. For they may not always be attended with
like happy Consequences.
    Arthur, said my Master, I have brought you a Mistress that is a great
Gardener. She'll show you a new Way to plant Beans. And never anybody had such a
Hand at improving a Sun-flower, as she! - O Sir, Sir, said I; but yet a little
dash'd; all my Improvements in every kind of Thing are owing to you, I am sure!
- And so I think I was even with the dear Man, and yet appear'd grateful before
his Servants. They withdrew, blessing us both, as the rest had done.
    And then came in the Postilion, and two Helpers, (for my Master has both
here, and at Lincolnshire, fine Hunting-horses, and it is the chief Sport he
takes Delight in) as also the Scullion-boy; and I said, How do you, all of you?
And how dost do, Tommy? I hope you're very good. Here, your dear Master has
order'd you something a piece, in Honour of me. And my Master holding three
Fingers to me, I gave the Postilion and Helpers three Guineas each, and the
little Boy two; and bid him let his poor Mother lay it out for him, for he must
not spend it idly. Mr. Colbrand, Abraham and Thomas, I had before presented at
t'other House.
    And when they were all gone, but Mrs. Jervis, I said, And now, dearest Sir,
permit me on my Knees, thus, to bless you, and pray for you. And Oh, may God
crown you with Length of Days, and Increase of Honour; and may your happy, happy
Pamela, by her grateful Heart, appear always worthy in your dear Eyes, tho' she
cannot be so in her own, nor in those of any others!
    Mrs. Jervis, said my Master, you see the Excellency of this sweet Creature!
And when I tell you, that the Charms of her Person, all lovely as she is, bind
me not so strongly to her as the Graces of her Mind, congratulate me, that my
Happiness is built on so stable a Basis! - Indeed I do, most sincerely, Sir,
said she! - This is a happy Day to me.
    I stepped into the Library, while he was thus pouring out his Kindness for me
to Mrs. Jervis; and bless'd God there on my Knees, for the Difference I now
found to what I had once known in it. - And when I have done the same in the
first Scene of my Fears, the once frightful Summer-house, I shall have gone
thro' most of my distressful Scenes with Gratitude; but shall never forbear
thanking God in my Mind, for his Goodness to me in every one. Mrs. Jervis I
find, had whisper'd him what I had done above, and he saw me on my Knees, with
my Back towards him, unknown to me; but softly put to the Door again, as he had
open'd it a little Way. And I said, not knowing he had seen me, You have some
charming Pictures here, Sir: - Yes, said he, my dear Life, so I have; but none
equal to that, which your Piety affords me! - And may the God you delight to
serve bless more and more my dear Angel. Sir, said I, you are all Goodness! - I
hope, reply'd he, after your sweet Example, I shall be better and better! - Do
you think, my dear Father and Mother, there ever was so happy a Creature as I!
To be sure it would be very ingrateful to think with Uneasiness, or any thing
but Compassion, of poor Miss Sally Godfrey.
    He order'd Jonathan to let the Evening be pass'd merrily, but wisely, as he
said, with what every one liked, whether Wine or October.
    He was pleased afterwards to lead me up Stairs, and gave me Possession of my
Lady's Dressing-room and Cabinet, and her fine Repeating-watch and Equipage; and
in short of a complete Set of Diamonds, that were his good Mother's; as also of
the two Pair of Diamond Earrings, the two Diamond Rings, and Diamond Necklace he
mention'd in his naughty Articles, which her Ladyship had intended for Presents
to Miss Tomlins, a rich Heiress that was proposed for his Wife, when he was just
come from his Travels; but which went off, after all was agreed upon on both the
Friends Sides, because he approv'd not her Conversation; and she had, as he told
his Mother, too masculine an Air; and he never could be brought to see her but
once, tho' the Lady lik'd him very well. He presented me also with her
Ladyship's Books, Pictures, Linnen, Laces, etc. that were in her Apartments, and
bid me call those Apartments mine. O give me, my good God, Humility and
Gratitude!
 

                                 Sunday Night.

This Day, as Matters could not be ready for our Appearance at a better Place, we
staid at home; and my dear Master imploy'd himself a good deal in his Library.
And I have been taken up pretty much, I hope, as I ought to be, in Thankfulness,
Prayer, and Meditation in my newly presented Closet: And I hope God will be
pleas'd to give a Blessing to me; for I have the Pleasure to think I am not
puffed up with this great Alteration; and yet am not wanting to look upon all
these Favours and Blessings in the Light wherein I ought to receive them, both
at the Hands of God, and my dear Benefactor.
    We din'd together with great Pleasure, and I had in every Word and Action,
all the Instances of Kindness and Affection that the most indulg'd Heart could
wish. He said he would return to his Closet again; and at Five o'Clock would
come and take a Walk with me in the Garden, and so retire'd as soon as he had
din'd; and I went up to mine.
    About Six he was pleas'd to come up to me, and said, Now, my Dear, I will
attend you for a little Walk in the Garden; and I gave him my Hand with great
Pleasure. This Garden is much better cultivated than the Lincolnshire one; but
that is larger; and has nobler Walks in it; and yet here is a pretty Canal in
this, and a Fountain, and Cascade. We had a deal of sweet Conversation as we
walk'd; and, after we had taken a Turn round, I bent towards the little Garden,
and when I came near the Summer-house, took the Opportunity to slip from him,
and just whipped up the Steps of this once frightful Place, and kneeled down, and
said, I bless thee, O God, for my Escapes, and for thy Mercies! O let me always
possess a grateful and humble Heart! And I whipped down again, and join'd him; and
he hardly missed me.
    Several of the neighbouring Gentry sent their Compliments to him on his
Return, but not a Word about his Marriage, particularly 'Squire Arthur, 'Squire
Towers, 'Squire Brooks, and 'Squire Martin of the Grove.
 

                                    Monday.

I had a good deal of Employment in choosing Patterns for my new clothes. He
thought nothing too good; but I thought every thing I saw was; and he was so
kind, to pick out Six of the richest, for me to choose three Suits out of,
saying, we would furnish ourselves with more in Town, when we went thither. One
was a white flower'd with Gold most richly; and he was pleased to say, that as I
was a Bride, I should make my Appearance in that the following Sunday. And so we
shall have in two or three Days, from several Places, nothing but Mantua-makers
and Taylors at Work. Bless me! what a chargeable, and what a worthless Hussy I
am, to the dear Gentleman! - But his Fortune and Station require a great deal of
it; and his Value for me, will not let him do less than if he had marry'd a
Fortune equal to his own; and then, as he says, it would be a Reflection upon
him if he did. - And so I doubt it will be as it is: For, either way, the World
will have something to say. He made me also choose some very fine Laces, and
Linen; and has sent a Message on purpose, with his Orders, to hasten all down;
what can be done in Town, as the Millenary Matters, etc. to be completed there,
and sent by particular Messengers, as done. All to be here, and finished by
Saturday Afternoon without fail.
    I send away John this Morning, with some more of my Papers to you, and with
the few he will give you, separate. My Desire is, that you will send me all the
Papers you have done with, that I may keep my Word with Lady Davers; to beg the
Continuance of your Prayers and Blessings; to hope you will give me your Answer
about my dear Benefactor's Proposal of the Kentish Farm; to beg you to buy two
Suits of clothes, each, of the finest Cloth for you, my dear Father, and of a
creditable Silk for my dear Mother; and good Linen, and every thing answerable;
and that you will, as my dearest Sir bid me say, let us see you here, as soon as
possible, and he will have his Chariot come for you, when you tell John the Day.
Oh! how I long to see you both, my dear good Parents, and to share with you my
Felicities!
    You will have, I am sure, the Goodness to go to all your Creditors, which
are chiefly those of my poor unhappy Brothers, and get an Account of all you are
bound for; and every one shall be paid to the utmost Farthing, and Interest
besides, tho' some of them have been very cruel and unrelenting. - But they are
all entitled to their own, and shall be thankfully paid.
    Now I think of it, John shall take my Papers down to this Place; that you
may have something to amuse you of your dear Child's, instead of those you part
with; and I will continue writing till I am settled, and you are determin'd; and
then I shall apply myself to the Duties of the Family, in order to become as
useful to my dear Benefactor, as my small Abilities will let me.
    If you think a Couple of Guineas will be of Use to Mrs. Mumford, who I doubt
has not much aforehand, pray give them to her, from me, (and I will return them
to you) as for a Pair of Gloves on my Nuptials: And look thro' your poor
Acquaintance, and Neighbours, and let me have a List of such honest, industrious
Poor, as may be true Objects of Charity; and have no other Assistance;
particularly such as are blind, lame, or sickly, with their particular Cases;
and also, such poor Families and Housekeepers as are reduced by Misfortunes, as
ours was, and where a great Number of Children may keep them from rising to a
State of tolerable Comfort: And I will choose as well as I can; for I long to be
making a Beginning, with the kind Quarterly Benevolence my dear good Benefactor
has bestowed on me for such good Purposes.
    I am resolve'd to keep Account of all these Matters, and Mr. Longman has
already furnish'd me with a Vellum-book of all white Paper; some Sides of which
I hope soon to fill, with the Names of proper Objects: And tho' my dear Master
has given me all this without Account, yet shall he see, (but nobody else) how I
lay it out, from Quarter to Quarter; and I will, if any be left, carry it on,
like an Accomptant, to the next Quarter, and strike a Ballance four times a
Year, and a general Ballance at every Year's End. - And I have written in it,
Humble RETURNS for DIVINE MERCIES; and lock it up safe in my newly presented
Cabinet.
    I intend to let Lady Davers see no further of my Papers, than to her own
angry Letter to her Brother; for I would not have her see my Reflections upon
it; and she'll know, down to that Place, all that's necessary for her Curiosity,
as to my Sufferings, and the Stratagems used against me, and the honest Part God
enabled me to act: And I hope, when she sees them all, she will be quite
reconcil'd; for she will see it is all God Almighty's Doings; and that a
Gentleman of his Parts and Knowledge was not to be drawn in by such a poor young
Body as me. I will detain John no longer. He will tell you to read this last
Part first, and while he stays. And so with my humble Duty to you both, and my
dear Sir's kind Remembrance, I rest,
                                Your ever dutiful and gratefully happy Daughter.
 

                               Wednesday Evening.

Honoured Father and Mother,
    I Will now proceed with my Journal.
    On Tuesday Morning, my dear Sir rode out, attended by Abraham; and he
brought with him to Dinner Mr. Martin of the Grove, and Mr. Arthur, and Mr.
Brooks, and one Mr. Chambers; and he stepped up to me, and said he had rode out
too far to return to Breakfast; but he had brought with him some of his old
Acquaintance, to dine with me. Are you sorry for it, Pamela, said he? I
remembered his Lessons, and said, No, sure, Sir; I can't be angry at any thing
you are pleas'd to do. Said he, you know Mr. Martin's Character, and have
severely censur'd him in one of your Letters, as one of my Brother Rakes, and
for his three Lyings-in. -
    He then gave me the following Account, how he came to bring them. Said he,
»I met them all at Mr. Arthur's, and his Lady asked me, if I was really marry'd?
I said, Yes, really. And to who, said Mr. Martin? Why, reply'd I, bluntly, to my
Mother's Waiting-maid. They could not tell what to say to me, hereupon, and
look'd one upon another. And I saw I had spoil'd a Jest, from each. Mrs. Arthur
said, You have indeed, Sir, a charming Creature as ever I saw, and she has
mighty good Luck. Ay, said I; and so have I. But I shall say the less, because a
Man never did any thing of this Nature, that he did not think he ought, if it
were but in Policy, to make the best of it. Nay, said Mr. Arthur, if you have
sinn'd, it is with your Eyes open: For you know the World as well as any
Gentleman of your Years in it.
    Why, really, Gentlemen, said I, I should be glad to please all my Friends;
but I can't expect, till they know my Motives and Inducements, that it will be
so immediately. But I do assure you, I am exceedingly pleased myself; and, that,
you know, is most to the Purpose.
    Said Mr. Brooks, I have heard my Wife praise your Spouse that is, so much,
for Beauty and Shape, that I wanted to see her of all Things. Why, reply'd I, if
you'll all go and take a Dinner with me, you shall see her with all my Heart.
And, Mrs. Arthur, will you bear us Company? No, indeed, Sir, said she. What,
I'll warrant, my Wife will not be able to reconcile you to my Mother's
Waiting-maid; is not that it? Tell Truth, Mrs. Arthur. Nay, said she, I shan't
be backward to pay your Spouse a Visit, in Company of the neighbouring Ladies;
but for one single Woman to go, on such a sudden Motion too, with so many
Gentlemen, is not right. But that need not hinder you, Gentlemen. So, said he,
the rest sent, that they should not dine at home; and they, and Mr. Chambers, a
Gentleman lately settled in these Parts, one and all came with me: And so, my
Dear, concluded he, when you make your Appearance next Sunday, you're sure of a
Party in your Favour; for all that see you must esteem you.«
    He went to them; and when I came down to Dinner, he was pleased to take me
by the Hand, at my Entrance into the Parlour, and said, My dear Love, I have
brought some of my good Neighbours to take a Dinner with you. I said, You are
very good, Sir! - My Dear, this Gentleman is Mr. Chambers; and so he presented
every one, to me; and they saluted me, and wish'd us both Joy.
    Mr. Brooks said, I, for my Part, wish you Joy most heartily. My Wife told me
a good deal of the Beauties of your Person; but I did not think we had such a
Flower in our County. Sir, said I, your Lady is very partial to me; and you are
so polite a Gentleman, that you will not contradict your good Lady.
    I'll assure you, Madam, return'd he, you have not hit the Matter at all; for
we contradict one another twice or thrice a Day. But the Devil's in't if we are
not agreed in so clear a Case.
    Said Mr. Martin, Mr. Brooks says very true, Madam, in both respects (meaning
his Wife's and his own Contradiction to one another, as well as in my Favour);
for, added he, they have been marry'd some Years.
    As I had not the best Opinion of this Gentleman, nor his Jest, I said, I am
almost sorry, Sir, for the Gentleman's Jest upon himself and his Lady; but I
think it should have reliev'd him from a greater Jest, your pleasant
Confirmation of it. - But still, the Reason you give that it may be so, I hope,
is the Reason that may be given that it is not so, - to wit, That they have been
married some Years.
    Said Mr. Arthur, Mr. Martin, I think the Lady has very handsomely reprov'd
you. I think so too, said Mr. Chambers; and it was but a very indifferent
Compliment to a Bride. Said Mr. Martin, Compliment or not, Gentlemen, I have
never seen a Matrimony of any time standing, that it was not so, little or much.
But I dare say, it will never be so here.
    To be sure, Sir, said I, if it was, I must be the ungratefullest Person in
the World, because I am the most obliged Person in it. That Notion, said Mr.
Arthur, is so excellent, that it gives a moral Certainty, that it never can.
    Sir, said Mr. Brooks, to my dear Sir, softly, You have a most accomplished
Lady, I do assure you, as well in her Behaviour and Wit, as in her Person, call
her what you please. Why, my dear Friend, said my Master, I must tell you, That
her Person made me her Lover; but her Mind made her my Wife.
    The first Course coming in, my dear Sir led me himself to my Place; and set
Mr. Chambers, as the greatest Stranger, at my Right-hand, and Mr. Brooks at my
Left; and Mr. Arthur was pleased to observe, much to my Advantage, on the Ease
and Freedom with which I behave'd myself, and helped them; and said, He would
bring his Lady to be a Witness, and a Learner both, of my Manner. I said, I
should be proud of any Honour Lady Arthur would vouchsafe to do me; and if I
once could promise myself the Opportunity of his good Lady's Example, and those
of the other Gentlemen present, I should have the greater Opinion of my
Worthiness to sit in the Place I fill'd, at present, with much Insufficiency.
    Mr. Arthur drank to my Health and Happiness, and said, my Wife told your
Spouse, Madam, You had very good Luck in such a Husband; but I now see who has
the best of it. Said Mr. Brooks, Come, come, let's make no Compliments; for the
plain Truth of the Matter is, our good Neighbour's Generosity and judgement have
met with so equal a Match, in his Lady's Beauty and Merit, that I know not which
has the best Luck. But may you be both long happy together, say I! And so he
drank a Glass of Wine.
    My dear Sir, who always takes Delight to have me praised, seemed much
pleased with our Conversation; and he said the kindest, tenderest, and most
respectful Things in the World to me. Insomuch, that the rough Mr. Martin said,
Did you ever think our good Friend here, who used to ridicule Matrimony so much,
would have made so complaisant a Husband? How long do you intend, Sir, that this
shall hold? As long as my good Girl deserves it, said he, and that I hope will
be for ever. But, continued he, you need not wonder I have changed my Mind as to
Wedlock; for I never expected to meet with one whose Behaviour and Sweetness of
Temper was so well adapted to make me happy.
    After Dinner, and having drank good Healths to each of their Ladies, I
withdrew; and they sat and drank two Bottles of Claret apiece, and were very
merry; and went away, full of my Praises, and vowing to bring their Ladies to
see me.
 
John having brought me your kind Letter, my dear Father, I told my good Master,
after his Friends were gone, how gratefully you received his generous Intentions
as to the Kentish Farm, and promised your best Endeavours to serve him in that
Estate; and that you hoped your Industry and Care would be so well employ'd in
it, that you should be very little troublesome to him as to the liberal Manner
in which he had intended to add to a Provision, that of itself exceeded all your
Wishes. He was very well pleased with your cheerful Acceptance of it.
    I am glad your Engagements in the World lie in so small a Compass: As soon
as you have gotten an Account of them exactly, you will be pleased to send it
me, with the List of the poor Folks you are so kind to promise to procure me.
    I think, as my dear Master is so generous, you should think nothing that is
plain too good. Pray, don't be afraid of laying out upon yourselves. My dear Sir
intends that you shall not, when you come to us, return to your old Abode, but
stay with us, till you set out for Kent; and so you must dispose of yourselves
accordingly. And, I hope, my dear Father, you have quite left off all Slavish
Business. As Farmer Jones has been kind to you, as I have heard you say, pray,
when you take Leave of them, present them with three Guineas worth of good
Books, such as a Family-Bible, a Common-Prayer, a Whole Duty of Man, or any
other you think will be acceptable; for they live a great way from Church; and
in Winter, the Ways from their Farm thither are impassable.
    He has brought me my Papers safe: And I will send them to Lady Davers the
first Opportunity, down to the Place I mentioned in my last.
    My dear Sir just now tells me, that he will carry me in the Morning a little
Airing, about ten Miles off, in his Chariot and Four, to Breakfast at a
Farm-house, noted for a fine Dairy, and where, now-and-then, the neighbouring
Gentry of both Sexes resort, for that Purpose. And he will send Abraham on
Horse-back, before us; to let the good Folks know it.
 

                                   Thursday.

We set out at about half an Hour after Six, accordingly, and driving pretty
smartly, got at this truly neat House at half an Hour after Eight, and found
Abraham there; and I was much pleas'd with the Neatness of the good Woman, and
Daughter, and Maid; and he was so good as to say he would now-and-then take a
Turn with me to the same Place, and on the same Occasion, as I seem'd to like
it; for that it would be a pretty Exercise, and procure us Appetites to our
Breakfasts, as well as our Return would to our Dinners. But I find this was not
(tho' a very good Reason) the only one for which he gave me this agreeable
Airing; as I shall acquaint you.
    We were prettily receive'd and entertain'd here, and an Elegance ran through
every thing, Persons as well as Furniture, yet all plain. And my Master said to
the good Housewife, Do your young Boarding-school Ladies still at times continue
their Visits to you, Mrs. Dobson? Yes, Sir, said she, I expect three or four of
them every Minute.
    There is, my Dear, said he, within three Miles of this Farm, a very good
Boarding-school for Ladies: The Governess of it keeps a Chaise and Pair, which
is to be made a double Chaise at Pleasure; and in Summer-time, when the Misses
perform their Tasks to Satisfaction, she favours them with an Airing to this
Place, three or four at a Time; and after they have breakfasted, they are
carried back: And this serves both for a Reward, and for Exercise; and the
Misses who have this Favour are not a little proud of it; and it brings them
forward in their respective Tasks.
    A very good Method, Sir, said I. And just as we were talking, the Chaise
came in with four Misses, all pretty much of a Size, and a Maid-servant to
attend them. They were shown another little neat Apartment, that went thro'
ours, and made their Honours very prettily, as they passed by us. I went into
the Room to them, and asked them Questions about their Work, and their Lessons;
and what they had done to deserve such a fine Airing and Breakfasting; and they
all answer'd me very prettily. And pray, little Ladies, said I, what may I call
your Names? One was called Miss Burdoff, one Miss Nugent, one Miss Booth, and
the fourth Miss Goodwin. I don't know which, said I, is the prettiest; but you
are all best, my little Dears; and you have a very good Governess to indulge you
with such a fine Airing, and such delicate Cream, and Bread and Butter. I hope
you think so too.
    My Master came in, and I had no Mistrust in the World; and he kissed each of
them; but look'd more wistfully on Miss Goodwin, than any of the others; but I
thought nothing just then: Had she been called Miss Godfrey, I had hit upon it
in a trice.
    When we went from them, he said, Which do you think the prettiest of those
Misses? Really, Sir, reply'd I, it is hard to say; Miss Booth is a pretty brown
Girl, and has a fine Eye; Miss Burdoff has a great deal of Sweetness in her
Countenance, but not so regularly featur'd. Miss Nugent is very fair: And Miss
Goodwin has a fine black Eye, and is besides, I think, the genteelest shap'd
Child; but they are all pretty.
    The Maid led them into the Garden, to show them the Bee-hives; and Miss
Goodwin made a particular fine Curchee to my Master; and I said, I believe Miss
knows you, Sir; and taking her by the Hand, I said, Do you know this Gentleman,
my pretty Dear? -- Yes, Madam, said she, It is my own dear Uncle. I clasp'd her
in my Arms, O why did you not tell me, Sir, said I, that you had a Niece among
these little Ladies? And I kissed her, and away she tript, after the others.
    But pray, Sir, said I; How can this be? - You have no Sister nor Brother,
but Lady Davers! -- How can this be?
    He smiled; and then I said, O my dear Sir, tell me now of a Truth, Does not
this pretty Miss stand in a nearer Relation to you, than as a Niece? - I know
she does! I know she does! And I embrace'd him as he stood.
    'Tis even so, my Dear, reply'd he; and you remember my Sister's good-natur'd
Hint of Miss Sally Godfrey! I do well, Sir! answer'd I. But this is Miss
Goodwin. Her Mother chose that for her, said he, because she should not be
called by her own.
    Well, said I, excuse me, Sir, I must go and have a little Prattle with her.
I'll send for her in again, reply'd he; and in she came, in a Moment. I took her
in my Arms, and said, O my charming Dear! will you love me? - Will you let me be
your Aunt? Yes, Madam, answer'd she, with all my Heart! And I will love you
dearly! But I mustn't love my Uncle! Why so? said he. Because, reply'd she, you
would not speak to me at first! - And because you would not let me call you,
Uncle; (for it seems she was bid not, that I might not guess at her presently)
and yet, said the pretty Dear, I had not seen you a great while, so I hadn't!
    Well, Pamela, said he, now can you allow me to love this little Innocent?
Allow you, Sir! reply'd I; you would be very barbarous if you did not; and I
should be more so, if I did not further it all I could, and love the little Lamb
myself, for your sake, and for her own sake; and in Compassion to her poor dear
Mother, tho' unknown to me. And Tears stood in my Eyes.
    Said he, Why, my Love, are your Words so kind, and your Countenance so sad?
- I drew to the Window, from the Child, and said, Sad it is not, Sir; but I have
a strange Grief and Pleasure mingled at once in my Breast, on this Occasion: It
is indeed a twofold Grief, and a twofold Pleasure. As how, my Dear? said he. -
Why, Sir, said I, I cannot help being grieved for the poor Mother of this sweet
Babe, to think, if she be living, that she must call her chiefest Delight her
Shame; if she be no more, that she must have sad Remorses on her poor Mind, when
she came to leave the World, and her little Babe: And, in the second Place, I
grieve, that it must be thought a Kindness to the dear little Soul, not to let
her know how near the dearest Relation she has in the World is to her! - Forgive
me, dear Sir, I say not this to reproach you, in the least. Indeed, I don't. And
I have a twofold Cause of Joy; first, That I have had the Grace to escape the
like Unhappiness with this poor Gentlewoman; and next, That this Discovery has
given me an Opportunity to show the Sincerity of my grateful Affection for you,
Sir, in the Love I will always express to this dear Child!
    And then I stepped to her again, and kissed her; and said, Join with me, my
pretty Love, to beg your dear Uncle to let you come home, and live with your new
Aunt! Indeed, my little Precious, I'll love you dearly!
    Will you, Sir, said the little Charmer, will you let me go and live with my
Aunt?
    You are very good, my Pamela, said he. - And I have not once been deceived
in the Hopes my fond Heart had entertained of your Prudence. -- But will you,
Sir, said I, will you grant me this Favour! - I shall most sincerely love the
little Charmer; and all I am capable of doing for her, both by Example and
Affection, shall most cordially be done. - My dearest Sir, added I, oblige me in
this thing! I think already my Heart is set upon it! - What a sweet Employment
and Companionship shall I have!
    We'll talk of this some other Time, reply'd he; but I must, in Prudence, put
some Bounds to your amiable Generosity. I had always intended to surprise you
into this Discovery; but my Sister led the Way to it, out of a Poorness in her
Spite, that I could not brook; and tho' you have pleased me beyond Expression,
in your Behaviour on this Occasion; yet I can't say, that you have gone much
beyond my Expectations; for I have such an high Opinion of you, that I think
nothing could have shaken it, but a contrary Conduct to this you have express'd
on so tender a Circumstance.
    Well, Sir, said the dear little Miss, then you won't let me go home with my
Aunt, will you? I'm sure she'll love me! When you break up next, my Dear, said
he, if you're a good Girl, you shall make your new Aunt a Visit. She made a low
Curchee, Thank you, Sir, said she. Yes, my Dear, said I, and I'll get you some
fine things against the Time. I'd have brought you some now, had I known I
should have seen my pretty Love! Thank you, Madam, return'd she.
    How old, Sir, said I, is Miss? Between Six and Seven, answer'd he. Was she
ever, Sir, said I, at your House? My Sister, reply'd he, carry'd her there once,
as a little Relation of her Lord's. I remember, Sir, said I, a little Miss; and
Mrs. Jervis and I took her to be a Relation of Lord Davers's.
    My Sister, said he, knew the whole Secret from the Beginning; and it made
her a great Merit with me, that she kept it from the Knowledge of my Father, who
was then living, and of my Mother, to her Dying-day; tho' she descended so low,
in her Rage, to hint the Matter to you.
    The little Misses took their Leaves soon after; and I know not how, but I am
strangely affected with this dear Child. I wish he would be so good as to let me
have her home. It would be a great Pleasure to have such a fine Opportunity,
oblige'd as I am, to show my Love for himself, in my Fondness for this dear Miss.
    As we came home together in the Chariot, he gave me the following
Particulars of this Affair, additional to what he had before mention'd.
    That this Lady was of a good Family, and the Flower of it: But that her
Mother was a Person of great Art and Address, and not altogether so nice in the
Particular between himself and Miss, as she ought to have been. That,
particularly, when she had Reason to find him unsettled and wild, and her
Daughter in more Danger from him, than he was from her; yet she encouraged their
Privacies; and even, at last, when she had Reason to apprehend, from their being
Surprise'd together, in a way not so creditable to the Lady, that she was far
from forbidding their private Meetings; on the contrary, that on a certain Time,
she had set one, that had formerly been her Footman, and a Half-pay Officer, her
Relation, to watch an Opportunity, and to frighten him into a Marriage with the
Lady. That accordingly, when they had Surprise'd him in her Chamber, just as he
had been let in, they drew their Swords upon him, and threaten'd instantly to
kill him, if he did not promise Marriage on the Spot; and that they had a Parson
ready below Stairs, as he found afterwards. That then he suspected, from some
strong Circumstances, that Miss was in the Plot; which so enraged him, with
their Menaces together, that he drew, and stood upon his Defence, and was so
much in Earnest, that the Man he push'd into the Arm, and disabled; and pressing
pretty forward upon the other, as he retreated, he rushed in upon him, near the
Top of the Stairs, and push'd him down one Pair, and he was much hurt with the
Fall: - Not but that, he said, he might have paid for his Rashness; but that the
Business of his Antagonists was rather to frighten than kill him. That, upon
this, in the Sight of the old Lady, the Parson she had provided, and her other
Daughters, he went out of their House, with bitter Execrations against them all.
    That after this, designing to break off all Correspondence with the whole
Family, and Miss too, she found means to engage him to give her a Meeting at
Woodstock, in order to clear herself. That, poor Lady! she there was obliged,
naughty Creature as he was! to make herself quite guilty of a worse Fault, in
order to clear herself of a lighter. That they afterwards met at Godstow often,
at Woodstock, and every neighbouring Place to Oxford; where he was then
studying, as it prov'd, guilty Lessons, instead of improving ones; till, at
last, the Effect of their frequent Interviews grew too obvious to be concealed.
That the young Lady then, when she was not fit to be seen, for the Credit of the
Family, was confine'd, and all manner of Means were used, to induce him to marry
her. That, finding nothing would do, they at last resolved to complain to his
Father and Mother. But that he made his Sister acquainted with the Matter, who
then happen'd to be at home, and, by her Management and Spirit, their Intentions
of that sort, were frustrated; and seeing no Hopes, they agreed to Lady Davers's
Proposals, and sent poor Miss down to Marlborough, where, at her Expense, which
he answer'd to her again, she was provided for, and privately lay-in. That Lady
Davers took upon herself the Care of the Little-one, till it came to be fit to
be put to the Boarding-school, where it now is; and that he had settled upon the
dear little Miss such a Sum of Money, as the Interest of it would handsomely
provide for her; and the Principal would be a tolerable Fortune, fit for a
Gentlewoman, when she came to be marriageable. And this, my Dear, said he, is
the Story in brief. And I do assure you, Pamela, added he, I am far from making
a Boast of, or taking a Pride in, this Affair: But since it has happen'd, I
can't say, but I wish the poor Child to live, and be happy; and I must endeavour
to make her so.
    Sir, said I, to be sure you should; and I shall take a very great Pride to
contribute to the dear little Soul's Felicity, if you will permit me to have her
home. - But, added I, does not Miss know any thing who are her Father and
Mother? - I wanted him to say, if the poor Lady was living or dead. - No,
answer'd he. Her Governess has been told, by my Sister, That she is the Daughter
of a Gentleman and his Lady, who are related, at a Distance, to Lord Davers, and
now live in Jamaica; and she calls me Uncle, only because I am the Brother to
Lady Davers, whom she calls Aunt, and who is very fond of her; as is also my
Lord, who knows the whole Matter; and they have her, at all her little School
Recesses, at their House, and are very kind to her.
    I believe, added he, the Truth of the Matter is very little known or
suspected; for as her Mother is of no mean Family, her Friends endeavour to keep
it secret, as much as I; and Lady Davers, till her Wrath boil'd over, t'other
Day, has manage'd the Matter very dexterously and kindly.
    The Words, Mother is of no mean Family, gave me not to doubt the poor Lady
was living. And I said, But how, Sir, can the dear Miss's poor Mother be content
to deny herself the Enjoyment of so sweet a Child? - Ay, Pamela, reply'd he, now
you come in; I see you want to know what's become of the poor Mother! - 'Tis
natural enough you should; but I was willing to see how the little Suspence
would operate upon you. - Dear Sir, said I - Nay, reply'd he, 'tis very natural,
my Dear! I think you have had a great deal of Patience, and are come at this
Question so fairly, that you deserve to be answer'd.
    You must know then, there is some Foundation for saying, That her Mother, at
least, lives in Jamaica; for there she does live, and very happily too. For you
must know, that she suffer'd so much in Childbed, that nobody expected her Life;
and this, when she was up, made such an Impression upon her, that she dreaded
nothing so much as the Thoughts of returning to her former Fault; and to say the
Truth, I had intended to make her a Visit as soon as her Month was well up. And
so, unknown to me, she engaged herself to go to Jamaica, with two young Ladies,
who were born there; but were returning to their Friends, after they had been
four Years in England for their Education; and recommending to me, by a very
moving Letter, her little Baby, and that I would not suffer it to be called by
her Name, but Goodwin, that her Shame might be the less known, for hers and her
Family's sake; she got her Friends to assign her Five hundred Pounds, in full of
all her Demands upon her Family, and went up to London, and imbarked, with her
Companions, at Gravesend, and so sailed to Jamaica; where she is since well and
happily marry'd; passing, to her Husband, for a young Widow, with one Daughter,
which her first Husband's Friends take care of, and provide for. And so, you
see, Pamela, that in the whole Story on both sides, the Truth is as much
preserve'd as possible.
    Poor Lady! said I; how her Story moves me! - I am glad she is so happy at
last! And, my Dear, said he, Are you not glad she is so far off too? - As to
that, Sir, said I, I cannot be sorry, to be sure, as she is so happy; which she
could not have been here. For, Sir, I doubt, you would have proceeded with your
Temptations, if she had not gone; and it show'd she was much in Earnest to be
good, that she could leave her native Country, leave all her Relations, leave
you that she so well love'd, leave her dear Baby, and try a new Fortune, in a new
World, among quite Strangers, and hazard the Seas; and all to preserve herself
from further Guiltiness! - Indeed, indeed, Sir, said I, I bleed for what her
Distresses must be in this Life: I am grieved for her poor Mind's Remorse, thro'
her Childbed Terrors, which could have so great and so worthy an Effect upon her
afterwards; and I honour her Resolution; and should rank such a returning dear
Lady in the Class of those who are most virtuous, and doubt not God Almighty's
Mercies to her; and that her present Happiness is the Result of his gracious
Providence, blessing her Penitence and Reformation. - But, Sir, said I, Did you
not once see the poor Lady after her Lying-in?
    I did not believe her so much in Earnest, answer'd he; and I went down to
Marlborough, and heard she was gone from thence to Calne. I went to Calne, and
heard she was gone to Reading, to a Relation's there. Thither I went, and heard
she was gone to Oxford. I follow'd; and there she was; but I could not come at
her Speech.
    She at last received a Letter from me, begging a Meeting with her; for I
found her Departure with the Ladies was resolved on; and that she was with her
Friends only to take Leave of them, and receive her agreed-on Portion: And she
appointed the Saturday following, and that was Wednesday, to give me a Meeting
at the old Place, at Woodstock.
    Then, added he, I thought I was sure of her, and doubted not I should spoil
her intended Voyage. I set out on Thursday to Gloucester, on a Party of
Pleasure; and on Saturday I went to the Place appointed, at Woodstock; but when
I came there, I found a Letter instead of my Lady; and when I open'd it, it was
to beg my Pardon for deceiving me. Expressing her Concern for her past Fault;
her Affection to me; and the Apprehension she had, that she should be unable to
keep her good Resolves if she met me: That she had set out the Thursday for her
Embarkation; for that she fear'd nothing else could save her; and had appointed
this Meeting on Saturday, at the Place of her former Guilt, that I might be
suitably impress'd upon the Occasion, and pity and allow for her; and that she
might get three or four Days start of me, and be quite out of my Reach. She
recommended again, as upon the Spot where the poor Little-one ow'd its Being, my
Tenderness to it, for her sake: and that was all she had to request of me, she
said; but would not forget to pray for me in all her own Dangers, and in every
Difficulty she was going to encounter.
    I wept at this moving Tale: And did not this impress you much, my dear Sir,
said I? Surely, such an affecting Lesson as this, on the very guilty Spot too,
(I admire the dear Lady's pious Contrivance!) must have had a great Effect upon
you. One would have thought, Sir, it was enough to reclaim you for ever. All
your naughty Purposes, I make no Doubt, were quite chang'd. Why, my Dear, said
he, I was much mov'd, you may be sure, when I came to reflect: But, at first, I
was so assure'd of being a successful Tempter, and spoiling her Voyage, that I
was vexed, and much out of Humour; but when I came to reflect, as I said, I was
quite overcome with this Instance of her Prudence, her Penitence, and her
Resolution; and more admir'd her than I had ever done. Yet I could not bear she
should so escape me neither; so much overcome me, as it were, in an heroical
Bravery; and I hasten'd away, and got a Bill of Credit of Lord Davers, upon his
Banker in London, for Five hundred Pounds, and set out for that Place; having
called at Oxford, and got what Light I could, as to where I might hear of her
there.
    When I arrive'd in Town, which was not till Monday Morning, I went to a Place
called Crosby-square, where the Friends of the two Ladies liv'd. She had set
out, in the Flying-coach, on Tuesday; got to the two Ladies that very Night;
and, on Saturday, had set out, with them, for Gravesend, much about the Time I
was expecting her at Woodstock.
    You may suppose, that I was much affected, my Dear, with this. However, I
got my Bill of Credit converted into Money; and I set out, with my Servant, on
Monday Afternoon, and reached Gravesend that Night; and there I understood that
she and the two Ladies had gone on Board from the very Inn I put up at, in the
Morning; and the Ship waited only for the Wind, which then was turning about in
its Favour.
    I got a Boat directly, and put on Board the Ship, and asked for Mrs.
Godfrey. But judge you, my dear Pamela, her Surprise and Confusion when she saw
me. She had like to have fainted away. I offer'd any Money to put off the
Sailing till next Day, but it would not be comply'd with; and fain would I have
got her on Shore, and promised to attend her, if she would go over Land, to any
Part of England the Ship would touch at. But she was immoveable.
    Every one concluded me her humble Servant; and were touched at the moving
Interview; the young Ladies, and their Female Attendants especially. With great
Difficulty, upon my solemn Assurances of Honour, she trusted herself with me in
one of the Cabins; and there I try'd, what I could, to prevail upon her to quit
her Purpose: But all in vain: She said, I had made her quite unhappy by this
Interview! She had Difficulties enough upon her Mind before; but now I had
imbitter'd all her Voyage, and given her the deepest Distress.
    I could prevail upon her, but for one Favour, and that with the greatest
Reluctance; which was, to accept of the Five hundred Pounds, as a Present from
me; and she promised, at my earnest Desire, to draw upon me for a greater Sum,
as a Person that had her Effects in my Hands, when she arrive'd, if she should
find it convenient for her. In short, this was all the Favour I could procure;
for she would not promise so much as to correspond with me; and was determin'd
on going; and, I believe, if I would have marry'd her, which yet I had not in my
Head, she would not have been diverted from her Purpose.
    But how, Sir, said I, did you part? I would have sailed with her, answer'd
he, and been landed at the first Port in England, or Ireland, I cared not which,
they should put in at. But she was too full of Apprehensions to admit it; and
the rough Fellow of a Master, Captain they call'd him, (but, in my Mind, I could
have thrown him overboard) would not stay a Moment, the Wind and Tide being
quite fair, and was very urgent with me to go ashore, or to go the Voyage; and
being impetuous in my Temper, spoilt, you know, my Dear, by my Mother, and not
used to Controul, I thought it very strange that Wind and Tide, or any thing
else, should be preferr'd to me, and my Money: But so it was, I was forced to
go, and so took Leave of the Ladies and the other Passengers; wish'd them a good
Voyage; gave Five Guineas among the Ship's Crew, to be good to the Ladies; and
took such a Leave as you may better imagine, than I express. She recommended,
once more, to me, the dear Guest, as she called her, the Ladies being present,
and thanked me for all these Instances of my Regard, which, she said, would
leave a strong Impression on her Mind; and, at parting, she threw her Arms about
my Neck, and we took such a Leave, as affected every one present, Men, as well
as Ladies.
    So, with a truly heavy Heart, I went down the Ship's Side to my Boat; and
stood up in it, looking at her, as long as I could see her, and she at me, with
her Handkerchief at her Eyes; and then I gaz'd at the Ship, till and after I had
landed, as long as I could discern the least Appearance of it; for she was under
Sail, in a manner, when I left her: And so I return'd, highly disturb'd, to my
Inn.
    I went to-bed, but rested not; return'd to London the next Morning; and set
out that Afternoon again, for the Country. And so much, my Dear, for poor Sally
Godfrey. - She sends, I understand, by all Opportunities, with the Knowledge of
her Husband, to learn how her Child, by her first Husband, does; and has the
Satisfaction to know she is happily provided for. And, about half a Year ago,
her Spouse sent a little Negro Boy, of about ten Years old, as a Present, to
wait upon her. But he was taken ill of the Small-pox, and died in a Month after
he was landed.
    Sure, Sir, said I, your generous Mind must have been long affected with this
melancholy Case, and all its Circumstances. It hung upon me, indeed, some time,
said he; but I was full of Spirits and Inconsideration. I went soon after to
travel; a hundred new Objects danced before my Eyes, and kept Reflection from
me. And, you see, I had, five or six Years afterwards, and even before that, so
thoroughly lost all the Impressions you talk of, that I doubted not to make my
Pamela change her Name, without either Act of Parliament or Wedlock, and be
Sally Godfrey the Second.
    O you dear naughty Gentleman! said I, this seems but too true! But I bless
God that it is not so! - I bless God for your Reformation, and that for your own
dear sake, as well as mine!
    Well, my Dear, said he, and I bless God for it too! - I do most sincerely! -
And 'tis my greater Pleasure, because I have, as I hope, seen my Error so early;
and that, with such a Stock of Youth and Health of my Side, in all Appearance, I
can truly abhor my past Liberties, and pity poor Sally Godfrey, from the same
Motives that I admire my Pamela's Virtues; and resolve, by the Grace of God, to
make myself as worthy of them as possible: And I will hope, my Dear, your
Prayers for my Pardon and my Perseverance, will be of no small Efficacy on this
Occasion.
    These agreeable Reflections, on this melancholy, but instructive, Story,
brought us in View of his own House; and we alighted, and took a Walk in the
Garden till Dinner was ready. And now we are so busy about making ready for our
Appearance, that I shall hardly have time to write till that be over.
 

                                Monday Morning.

Yesterday we set out, attended by John, Abraham, Benjamin and Isaac, in fine new
Liveries, in the best Chariot, which had been new clean'd, and lin'd, and new
harness'd; so that it look'd like a quite new one: But I had no Arms to quarter
with my dear Spouse's; tho' he jocularly, upon my taking Notice of my Obscurity,
said, that he had a good mind to have the Olive-branch, which would allude to
his Hopes, quarter'd for mine. I was dress'd in the Suit I mention'd, of White
flower'd with Gold, and a rich Head-dress, and the Diamond Necklace, Ear-rings,
etc. I also mention'd before. And my dear Sir, in a fine laced silk Waistcoat,
of blue Paduasoy, and his Coat a pearl-colour'd fine Cloth, with gold Buttons
and Button-holes, and lin'd with white Silk; and he look'd charmingly indeed. I
said, I was too fine, and would have laid aside some of the Jewels; but he said,
It would be thought a Slight to me from him, as his Wife; and tho', as I
apprehended, it might be, that People would talk as it was, yet he had rather
they should say any thing, than that I was not put upon an equal Foot, as his
Wife, with any Lady he might have marry'd.
    It seems, the neighbouring Gentry had expected us; and there was a great
Congregation; for (against my Wish) we were a little of the latest; so that, as
we walked up the Church to his Seat, we had abundance of Gazers, and Whisperers:
But my dear Master behave'd with so intrepid an Air, and was so cheerful and
complaisant to me, that he did Credit to his kind Choice, instead of showing as
if he was asham'd of it; and as I was resolved to busy my Mind entirely with the
Duties of the Day, my Intentness on that Occasion, and my Thankfulness to God,
for his unspeakable Mercies to me, so took up my Attention, that I was much less
concern'd than I should otherwise have been, at the Gazings and Whisperings of
the Ladies and Gentlemen, as well as of the rest of the Congregation; whose Eyes
were all turn'd to our Seat.
    When the Sermon was ended, we staid the longer, because the Church should be
pretty empty; but we found great Numbers at the Church Doors, and in the Church
Porch; and I had the Pleasure of hearing many Commendations, as well of my
Person, as my Dress and Behaviour, and not one Reflection, or Mark of
Disrespect. 'Squire Martin, who is single, Mr. Chambers, Mr. Arthur, and Mr.
Brooks, with their Families, were all there: And the four Gentlemen came up to
us, before we went into the Chariot, and, in a very kind and respectful manner,
complimented me, and my dear Sir; and Mrs. Arthur, and Mrs. Brooks, were so kind
as to wish me Joy; and Mrs. Brooks said, You sent my Spouse, Madam, home,
t'other Day, quite charm'd with that easy and sweet Manner, which you have
convinced a thousand Persons, this Day, is so natural to you.
    You do me great Honour, Madam, reply'd I. Such a good Lady's Approbation
must make me too sensible of my Happiness. My dear Master handed me into the
Chariot, and stood talking with Sir Thomas Atkyns, at the Door of it, (who was
making him abundance of Compliments, and is a very ceremonious Gentleman, a
little to Extremes) and I believe, to familiarize me to the Gazers, which
concern'd me a little. For I was dash'd to hear the Praises of the Country
People, and to see how they crowded about the Chariot. Several poor People
begg'd my Charity, and I beckon'd John with my Fan, and said, Divide, in the
further Church-Porch, that Money to the Poor, and let them come to-morrow
Morning to me, and I will give them something more, if they don't importune me
now. -- So I gave him all the Silver I had, which happen'd to be between twenty
and thirty Shillings; and this drew away from me, their clamorous Prayers for
Charity.
    Mr. Martin came up to me on the other side of the Chariot, and lean'd on the
Door, while my Master was talking to Sir Thomas, from whom he could not get
away, and said, By all that's good, you have charm'd the whole Congregation. Not
a Soul but is full of your Praises. My Neighbour knew, better than any body
could tell him, how to choose for himself. Why, said he, the Dean himself look'd
more upon you than his Book.
    O Sir, said I, you are very encouraging to a weak Mind! I vow, said he, I
say no more than's Truth: I'd marry to-morrow, if I was sure of meeting with a
Person of but one half of the Merit you have. You are, said he, and 'tis not my
way to praise too much, an Ornament to your Sex, an Honour to your Spouse, and a
Credit to Religion! - Every body is saying so, added he; for you have, by your
Piety, edified the whole Church.
    As he had done speaking, the Dean himself complimented me, that the
Behaviour of so sweet a Bride would be very edifying to his Congregation, and
encouraging to himself. Sir, said I, you are very kind. I hope I shall not
behave unworthy of the good Instructions I shall have the Pleasure to receive
from so worthy a Divine. He bow'd, and went on.
    Sir Thomas then apply'd to me, my Master stepping into the Chariot, and
said, I beg Pardon, Madam, for detaining your good Spouse from you. But I have
been saying, he is the happiest Man in the World. I bow'd to him; but I could
have wish'd him further, to make me sit so in the Notice of every one; which,
for all I could do, dash'd me not a little.
    Mr. Martin said to my Master, If you'll come to Church every Sunday, with
your charming Lady, I will never absent myself, and she'll give a good Example
to all the Neighbourhood. O, my dear Sir, said I, to my Master, You know not how
much I am obliged to good Mr. Martin. He has, by his kind Expressions, made me
dare to look up with Pleasure and Gratitude.
    Said my Master, My dear Love, I am very much oblige'd, as well as you, to my
good Friend Mr. Martin. And he said to him, We will constantly go to Church, and
to every other Place, where we can have the Pleasure of seeing Mr. Martin.
    Mr. Martin said, Gad, Sir, you are a happy Man; and I think your Lady's
Example has made you more polite, and handsome too, than I ever knew you before,
tho' we never thought you unpolite neither. And so he bow'd, and went to his own
Chariot; and as we drove away, the People kindly blessed us, and called us a
charming Pair. As I have no other Pride, I hope, in repeating these things, than
in the Countenance the general Approbation gives to my dear Master for his
stooping so low, you will excuse me for it, I know.
 
In the Afternoon, we went again to Church, and a little early, at my Request;
but the Church was quite full, and soon after even crowded; so much does
Novelty, the more's the Pity! attract the Eyes of Mankind. 'Squire Martin came
in, after us, and made up to our Seat, and said, If you please, my dear Friend,
I will take my Seat with you this Afternoon. With all my Heart, said my Master.
I was sorry for it; but was resolved my Duty should not be made second to
Bashfulness, or any other Consideration; and when Divine Service began, I
withdrew to the further End of the Pew, and left the Gentlemen in the Front; and
they behave'd quite suitably, both of them, to the Occasion. I mention this the
rather, because Mr. Martin was not very noted for coming to Church, or Attention
when there, before.
    The Dean preached again, which he was not used to do, out of Compliment to
us; and an excellent Sermon he made on the relative Duties of Christianity; and
it took my peculiar Attention; for he made many fine Observations on the
Subject. Mr. Martin address'd himself twice or thrice to me, during the Sermon;
but he saw me so wholly engross'd with hearkening to the good Preacher, that he
forbore interrupting me; yet I took care, according to my dear Sir's Lesson,
formerly, to observe to him a cheerful and obliging Behaviour, as one of his
Friends and Intimates. My Master ask'd him to give him his Company to Supper;
and he said, I am so taken with your Lady, that you must not give me too much
Encouragement; for I shall be always with you, if you do. He was pleased to say,
You cannot favour us with too much of your Company; and as I have left you in
the Lurch, in your single State, I think you will do well to oblige us as much
as you can; and who knows but my Happiness may reform another Rake? Who knows? -
said Mr. Martin - Why, I know! - for I am more than half reform'd already.
    At the Chariot-door, Mrs. Arthur, Mrs. Brooks, Mrs. Chambers, were brought
to me, by their respective Spouses; and presently, the witty Lady Towers, who
banter'd me before, (as I once told you) join'd them; and Mrs. Arthur said, She
wished me Joy: And that all the good Ladies, my Neighbours, would collect
themselves together, and make me a Visit. This, said I, will be an Honour,
Madam, that I can never enough acknowledge. It will be very kind so to
countenance a Person, who will always study to deserve your Favour, by the most
respectful Behaviour.
    Lady Towers said, My dear Neighbour, you want no Countenance; your own Merit
is sufficient. I had a slight Cold, that kept me at home in the Morning; but I
heard you so much talk'd of, and prais'd, that I resolved not to stay away in
the Afternoon. And I join in the Joy every one gives you. She turn'd to my
Master, and said, You are a sly Thief, as I always thought you. Where have you
stolen this Lady! And now, how barbarous is it, thus, unawares in a manner, to
bring her here upon us, to mortify and eclipse us all! - You are very kind,
Madam, said he, that you, and all my worthy Neighbours, see with my Eyes. But
had I not known she had so much Excellency of Mind and Behaviour, as would
strike every body in her Favour at first Sight, I should not have dared to class
her with such of my worthy Neighbours, as now so kindly congratulate us both.
    I own, said she, softly, I was one of your Censurers; but I never lik'd you
so well in my Life, as for this Action, now I see how capable your Bride is of
giving Distinction to any Condition. - And coming to me, My dear Neighbour, said
she, excuse me for having but in my Thought, the Remembrance that I have seen
you formerly, when, by your sweet Air, and easy Deportment, you so much surpass
us all, and give Credit to your present happy Condition.
    Dear good Madam, said I, how shall I suitably return my Acknowledgments! But
it will never be a Pain to me to look back upon my former Days, now I have the
kind Allowance and Example of so many worthy Ladies to support me in the Honours
to which the most generous of Men has raised me.
    Sweetly said! she was pleased to say. If I was in another Place, I would
kiss you for that Answer. Oh! happy, happy, Mr. B. said she to my Master; what
Reputation have you not brought upon your judgement! - I won't be long before I
see you, added she, I'll assure you, if I come by myself. That shall be your own
Fault, Madam, said Mrs. Brooks, if you do.
    And so they took Leave; and I gave my Hand to my dear Sir, and said, How
happy have you made me, generous Sir! - And the Dean, who was just come up,
heard me, and said, And how happy you have made your Spouse, I'll venture to
pronounce, is hard to say, from what I observe of you both. I curt'sy'd, and
blush'd, not thinking any body heard me. And my Master telling him he should be
glad of the Honour of a Visit from him; he said, He would pay his Respects to
us, the first Opportunity, and would bring his Wife and Daughter to attend me. I
said, That was doubly kind; and I should be very proud of cultivating so worthy
an Acquaintance. I thanked him for his fine Discourse; and he thanked me for my
Attention to it, which he called Exemplary: And so my dear Sir handed me into
the Chariot; and we were carried home, both happy, and both pleased, thank God!
 
Mr. Martin came in the Evening, with another Gentleman, his Friend, one Mr.
Dormer; and he entertained us with the favourable Opinion, he said, every one
had of me, and of the Choice my good Benefactor had made.
 
This Morning the Poor came, according to my Invitation; and I sent them away
with glad Hearts, to the Number of Twenty-five. They were not above Twelve or
Fourteen, on Sunday, that John divided the Silver I gave among them; but others
got hold of the Matter, and made up to the above Number.
 

                                    Tuesday.

My generous Master has given me, this Morning, a most considerate, but yet, from
the Nature of it, melancholy Instance of his great Regard for my Unworthiness,
which I never could have wished, hoped for, or even thought of.
    He took a Walk with me, after Breakfast, into the Garden; and a little
Shower falling, he led me, for Shelter, into the little Summer-house, in the
private Garden, where he formerly gave me Apprehensions; and sitting down by me,
he said, I have now finish'd all that lies on my Mind, my Dear, and am very
easy: For have you not wonder'd, that I have so much employ'd myself in my
Library? Been so much at home, and yet not in your Company? -- No, Sir, said I,
I have never been so impertinent as to wonder at any thing you please to employ
yourself about; nor would give way to a Curiosity that should be troublesome to
you: And besides, I know your large Possessions, and the Method you take of
looking yourself into your Affairs, must needs take up some Portions of your
Time, that I ought to be very careful how I invade.
    Well, said he, but I'll tell you what has been my last Work: I have taken it
into my Consideration, that, at present, my Line is almost extinct; and a great
Part of my Estate, in case I die without Issue, will go to another Line; and
other Parts of my personal Estate, will go into such Hands, as I should not care
my Pamela should lie at their Mercy. I have therefore, as human Life is
uncertain, made such a Disposition of my Affairs, as will make you absolutely
independent and happy; as will secure to you the Power of doing a great deal of
Good; and living as a Person ought to do, who is my Relict; and shall put it out
of any body's Power to molest your Father and Mother, in the Provision I design
them, for the Remainder of their Days: And I have finish'd all this very
Morning, except to naming Trustees for you; and if you have any body you would
confide in more than another, I would have you speak.
    I was so touch'd with this mournful Instance of his excessive Goodness to
me, and the Thoughts necessarily flowing from the solemn Occasion, that I was
unable to speak, and at last reliev'd my Mind by a violent Fit of weeping; and
could only say, clasping my Arms around the dear generous Gentleman! How shall I
support this! So very cruel, yet so very kind!
    Don't, my Dear, said he, be concern'd at what gives me Pleasure. I am not
the nearer my End, for having made this Disposition; but I think the putting off
these material Points, when so many Accidents every Day happen, and Life is so
precarious, is one of the most inexcusable Things in the World. And there are so
many important Points to be thought of, when Life is drawing to its utmost
Verge; and the Mind may be so agitated and unfit, that it is a most sad thing to
put off, to that Time, any of those Concerns, which more especially require a
considerate and composed Frame of Temper, and perfect Health and Vigor to
manage. My poor Friend, Mr. Carlton, who died in my Arms so lately, and had a
Mind disturb'd by worldly Considerations on one side, a Weakness of Body, thro'
his Distemper's Violence, on another, and the Concerns of still as much more
Moment, as the Soul is to the Body, on a third, made so great an Impression upon
me then, that I was the more impatient to come to this House, where were most of
my Writings, in order to make the Disposition I have now perfected: And since it
is grievous to my dear Girl, I will think myself of such Trustees, as shall be
most for her Benefit. I have only therefore to assure you, my Dear, that in this
Instance, as I will do in every other I can think of, I have studied to make you
quite easy, free, and independent. And because I shall avoid all Occasions, for
the future, which may discompose you, I have but one Request to make; which is,
That if it please God, for my Sins, to separate me from my dearest Pamela, that
you will only resolve not to marry one Person; for I would not be such an Herod,
as to restrict you from a Change of Condition with any other, however
reluctantly I may think of any other Person succeeding me in your Esteem.
    I could not answer, and thought my Heart would have burst. And he continued,
To conclude at once, a Subject that is so grievous to you, I will tell you, my
Pamela, that this Person is Mr. Williams: And now I will acquaint you with my
Motive for this Request; which is wholly owing to my Niceness, and to no Dislike
I have for him, or Apprehension of any Likelihood that it will be so: But,
methinks, it would reflect a little upon my Pamela, if she was to give way to
such a Conduct, as if she had marry'd a Man for his Estate, when she had rather
have had another, had it not been for that; and that now, the World will say,
she is at Liberty to pursue her Inclination, the Parson is the Man! -- And I
cannot bear even the most distant Apprehension, that I had not the Preference
with you, of any Man living, let me have been what I would; as I have shown my
dear Life, that I have preferr'd her to all her Sex, of whatever Degree.
    I could not speak, might I have had the World; and he took me in his Arms,
and said, I have now spoken all my Mind, and expect no Answer; and I see you too
much mov'd to give me one. - Only forgive me the Mention, as I have told you my
Motive; which as much affects your Reputation as my Niceness; and offer not at
an Answer; - only say, You forgive me. And I hope I have not one discomposing
thing to say to my Dearest, for the rest of my Life; which, I pray God, for both
our sakes, to lengthen for many happy Years.
    Grief still choaked up the Passage of my Words; and he said, The Shower is
over, my Dear, let us walk out again. - He led me by the Hand, and I would have
spoke; but he said, I will not hear my dear Creature say any thing: To hearken
to your Assurance of complying with my Request, would look as if I doubted you,
and wanted it. I am confident I needed only to speak my Mind, to be observed by
you; and I shall never more think of the Subject, if you don't remind me of it.
He then most sweetly chang'd the Discourse.
    Don't you with Pleasure, my Dear, said he, take in the delightful Fragrance
that this sweet Shower has given to these Banks of Flowers? Your Presence is so
enlivening to me, that I could almost fancy, that what we owe to the Shower, is
owing to That: And all Nature, methinks, blooms around me, when I have my Pamela
by my Side. You are a Poetess, my Dear; and I will give you a few Lines, that I
made myself on such an Occasion as this I am speaking of, the Presence of a
sweet Companion, and the fresh Verdure, that, after a Shower succeeding a long
Draught, show'd itself throughout all vegetable Nature. And then in a sweet and
easy Accent, (with his dear Arms about me as we walk'd) he sung me the following
Verses; of which he afterwards favour'd me with a Copy.
 

                                       I.

All Nature blooms when you appear;
The Fields their richest Liv'ries wear;
Oaks, Elms and Pines, blessed with your View,
Shoot out fresh Greens, and bud anew.
The varying Seasons you supply;
And when you're gone, they fade and die.
 

                                      II.

Sweet Philomel, in mournful Strains,
To you appeals, to you complains.
The tow'ring Lark, on rising Wing,
Warbles to you, your Praise does sing;
He cuts the yielding Air, and flies
To Heav'n, to type your future Joys.
 



                                      III.

The purple Violet, damask Rose,
Each to delight your Senses blows.
The Lilies ope', as you appear,
And all the Beauties of the Year
Diffuse their Odors at your Feet,
Who give to ev'ry Flow'r its Sweet.
 

                                      IV.

For Flow'rs and Women are ally'd;
Both, Nature's Glory, and her Pride!
Of ev'ry fragrant Sweet possest,
They bloom but for the Fair One's Breast;
And to the swelling Bosom born,
Each other mutually adorn.
 
Thus sweetly did he palliate the Woes, which the Generosity of his Actions,
mix'd with the Solemness of the Occasion, and the strange Request he had
vouchsafed to make me, had occasion'd. And all he would permit me to say, was,
That I was not displeased with him! - Displeased with you, dearest Sir! said I:
Let me thus testify my Obligations, and the Force all your Commands shall have
upon me. And I took the Liberty to clasp my Arms about his Neck, and kissed him.
    But yet my Mind was pained at times, and has been to this Hour. - God grant
that I may never see the dreadful Moment, that shall shut up the precious Life
of this excellently generous Benefactor of mine! And - but I cannot bear to
suppose - I cannot say more on such a deep Subject!
    Oh! what a poor thing is human Life in its best Enjoyments! - subjected to
imaginary Evils, when it has no real ones to disturb it! and that can be made as
effectually unhappy by its Apprehensions of remote Contingencies, as if it was
struggling with the Pangs of a present Distress! This, duly reflected upon,
methinks, should convince every one, that this World is not a Place for the
immortal Mind to be confined to; and that there must be an Hereafter, where the
whole Soul shall be satisfy'd.
    But I shall get out of my Depth; my shallow Mind cannot comprehend, as it
ought, these weighty Subjects: Let me, therefore, only pray, that after having
made a grateful Use of God's Mercies here, I may, with my dear Benefactor,
rejoice in that happy State, where is no Mixture, no Unsatisfiedness; and where
all is Joy, and Peace, and Love, for evermore!
    I said, when we sat at Supper, The charming Taste you gave me, Sir, of your
poetical Fancy, makes me sure you have more Favours of this Kind, to delight me
with, if you please; and may I beg to be indulged on this agreeable Head? -
Hitherto, said he, my Life has been too much a Life of Gaiety and Action, to be
busy'd so innocently. Some little Essays I have now-and-then attempted; but very
few have I completed. Indeed I had not Patience nor Attention enough to hold me
long to any one thing. Now-and-then, perhaps, I may occasionally show you what I
have attempted. But I never could please myself in this way.
 

                                    Friday.

We were Yesterday favour'd with the Company of almost all the neighbouring
Gentry, and their good Ladies, who, by Appointment with one another, met to
congratulate our Happiness. Nothing could be more obliging, more free and
affectionate, than the Ladies; nothing more polite than the Gentlemen. All was
perform'd, (for they came to Supper,) with Decency and Order, and much to every
one's Satisfaction, which was principally owing to good Mrs. Jervis's Care and
Skill; who is an excellent Manager.
    For my part, I was dress'd out, only to be admir'd, as it seems; and truly,
if I had not known, that I did not make myself, as you, my dear Father, once
hinted to me; and if I had had the Vanity to think as well of myself, as the
good Company was pleased to do, I might possibly have been proud. But I know, as
my Lady Davers said, tho' in Anger, yet in Truth, that I am but a poor Bit of
painted Dirt. All that I value myself upon, is, that God has raised me to a
Condition to be useful in my Generation, to better Persons than myself. This is
my Pride: And I hope this will be all my Pride. For what was I of myself! - All
the Good I can do, is but a poor third-hand Good; for my dearest Master himself
is but the Second-hand. GOD, the All-gracious, the All-good, the All-bountiful,
the All-mighty, the All-merciful GOD, is the First: To HIM, therefore, be all
the Glory!
    As I expect the Happiness, the unspeakable Happiness, my ever-dear and
ever-honour'd Father and Mother, of enjoying you both here, under this Roof, so
soon, (and pray let it be as soon as you can) I will not enter into the
Particulars of the last agreeable Evening: For I shall have a thousand things,
as well as that, to talk to you upon. I fear you will be tir'd with my Prattle
when I see you!
    I am to return these Visits singly; and there were Eight Ladies here, of
different Families. Dear Heart, I shall find enough to do! - I doubt my Time
will not be so well filled up, as I once promised my dear Sir! - But he is
pleas'd, cheerful, kind, affectionate! O what a happy Creature am I! - May I be
always thankful to GOD, and grateful to him! - When all these tumultuous
Visitings are over, I shall have my Mind, I hope, subside into a Family Calm,
that I may make myself a little useful to the Houshold of my dear Master; or
else I shall be an unprofitable Servant indeed!
    Lady Davers sent this Morning her Compliments to us both, very
affectionately; and her Lord's good Wishes and Congratulations. And she desire'd
my Writings per Bearer; and says, she will herself bring them to me again, with
Thanks, as soon as she has read them; and she and her Lord will come and be my
Guests (that was her particularly kind Word) for a Fortnight.
    I have now but one thing to wish for, and then, methinks, I shall be all
Ecstasy; and that is, Your Presence, both of you, and your Blessings; which I
hope you will bestow upon me every Morning and Night, till you are settled in
the happy manner my dear Spouse has intended.
    Methinks I want sadly your List of the honest and worthy Poor; for the Money
lies by me, and brings me no Interest. You see I am become a mere Usurer; and
want to make Use upon Use: And yet, when I have done all, I cannot do so much as
I ought. God forgive my Imperfections!
    I tell my dear Sir, I want another Dairy-house Visit. To be sure, if he
won't, at present, permit it, I shall, if it please God to spare us, tieze him
like any over-indulged Wife, if, as the dear Charmer grows older, he won't let
me have the Pleasure of forming her tender Mind, as well as I am able, lest,
poor little Soul! she fall into such Snares as her unhappy dear Mother fell
into. I am providing a Power of pretty Things for her, against I see her next,
that I may make her love me, if I can.
 
Just now I have the blessed News, that you will set out, for this happy House,
on Tuesday Morning. The Chariot shall be with you without fail. God give us a
happy Meeting! O, how I long for it! Forgive your impatient Daughter, who sends
this, to amuse you on your Journey; and desires to be
                                                      Ever most dutifully Yours.
 
Here end the Letters of the incomparable PAMELA to her Father and Mother. For,
as they arrive'd at their Daughter's House on Tuesday Evening in the following
Week, she had no Occasion to continue her Journal longer.
    The good old Couple were receive'd, by her, with the utmost Joy and Duty; and
with great Goodness and Complaisance by her generous Spouse. And having resided
there till every thing was put in Order for them at the Kentish Estate, they
were carried down thither by the 'Squire himself, and their Daughter, and put
into Possession of the pretty Farm he had designed for them. In which they long
liv'd comfortably, doing Good by their Examples, and their judicious Charities,
to all about them.
    They constantly, twice in every Year, for a Fortnight together, so long as
they liv'd, visited their dear Daughter; and once a Year, at least, for a Week
at a time, were visited by them again: And the 'Squire having added, by new
Purchases, to that Estate, they, by their Diligence, augmented the Value of it,
and deserved of him the Kindness he show'd them.
    As for the excellent PAMELA, she enjoy'd, for many Years, the Reward of her
Virtue, Piety and Charity; exceedingly beloved by both Sexes, and by all
Degrees; and was look'd upon as the Mirror of her Age and Sex.
    She made her beloved Spouse happy in a numerous and hopeful Progeny. And he
made her the best and fondest of Husbands; and, after her Example, became
remarkable for Piety, Virtue, and all the Social Duties of a Man and a
Christian. And they charm'd every one within the Circle of their Acquaintance,
by the Sweetness of their Manners, the regular Order and Oeconomy of their
Houshold; by their cheerful Hospitality, and a diffusive Charity to all worthy
Objects within the Compass of their Knowledge.
    She was regularly visited by the principal Ladies in the Neighbourhood; who
were fond of her Acquaintance, and better'd by her Example.
    Lady Davers became one of her sincerest and most affectionate Admirers. And
her Lord, in a manner, doted upon her.
    The poor little Miss Goodwin was, after a while, given up to her Wishes and
Importunities, in order to be form'd by her Example; and, in Process of Time,
was joined in Marriage with a Gentleman of Merit and Fortune, to whom she made
an excellent Wife.
 
Having thus brought this little History to a happy Period, the Reader will
indulge us in a few brief Observations, which naturally result from it; and
which will serve as so many Applications, of its most material Incidents, to the
Minds of the Youth of both Sexes.
 
First, then, in the Character of the GENTLEMAN, may be seen that of a
fashionable Libertine, who allow'd himself in the free Indulgence of his
Passions, especially as to the Fair Sex; and found himself supported in his
daring Attempts, by an affluent Fortune in Possession, a personal Bravery, as it
is called, readier to give than take Offence, and an imperious Will; yet as he
betimes sees his Errors, and reforms in the Bloom of Youth, an edifying Lesson
may be drawn from it, for the Use of such as are born to large Fortunes; and who
may be taught, by his Example, the inexpressible Difference between the Hazards
and Remorse which attend a profligate Course of Life; and the Pleasures which
flow from virtuous Love, and virtuous Actions.
    The Generosity of his Mind; his Sobriety, as to Wine and Hours; his prudent
Oeconomy and Hospitality; the Purity and Constancy of his Affection, after his
Change; his polite Behaviour to his Pamela; his generous Provision for her, in
case he had died; his Bounty to her Parents, attended with such Marks of
Prudence as made them useful to himself, as well as render'd them happy; and
show'd he was not acted merely by a blind and partial Passion; are so many
Instances worthy of being remember'd in his Favour, and of being imitated, in
Degree, by all such as are cricumstanced as he was.
 
In the Character of Lady DAVERS, let the Proud and the High-born see the
Deformity of unreasonable Passion, and how weak and ridiculous such Persons must
appear, who suffer themselves, as is usually the Case, to be hurried from one
Extreme to another; from the Height of Violence, to the most abject Submission;
and subject themselves to be out-done by the humble Virtue they so much despise.
 
Let good CLERGYMEN, in Mr. WILLIAMS, see that whatever Displeasure the doing of
their Duty may give, for a Time, to their proud Patrons, Providence will, at
last, reward their Piety, and turn their Distresses to Triumph; and make them
even more valued for a Conduct that gave Offence while the Violence of Passion
lasted, than if they had meanly stoop'd to flatter or sooth the Vices of the
Great.
 
In the Examples of good old ANDREWS, and his WIFE, let those, who are reduced to
a low Estate, see, that Providence never fails to reward their Honesty and
Integrity; and that God will, in his own good Time, extricate them, by means
unforeseen, out of their present Difficulties, and reward them with Benefits
unhop'd-for.
 
The UPPER SERVANTS of great Families may, from the odious Character of Mrs.
Jewkes, and the amiable ones of Mrs. Jervis, Mr. Longman, etc. learn what to
avoid, and what to choose, to make themselves valued and esteem'd by all who know
them.
 
And, from the double Conduct of poor John, the LOWER SERVANTS may learn
Fidelity, and how to distinguish between the lawful and unlawful Commands of a
Superior.
 
The poor deluded Female, who, like the once unhappy Miss GODFREY, has given up
her Honour, and yielded to the Allurements of her designing Lover, may learn
from her Story, to stop at the first Fault; and, by resolving to repent and
amend, see the Pardon and Blessing which await her Penitence, and a kind
Providence ready to extend the Arms of its Mercy to receive and reward her
returning Duty. While the abandon'd Prostitute, pursuing the wicked Courses,
into which, perhaps, she was at first inadvertently drawn, hurries herself into
filthy Diseases, and an untimely Death; and, too probably, into everlasting
Perdition afterwards.
 
Let the despondent Heart be comforted by the happy Issue which the Troubles and
Trials of the lovely PAMELA met with, when they see, in her Case, that no Danger
nor Distress, however inevitable or deep to their Apprehensions, can be out of
the Power of Providence to obviate or relieve; and which, as in various
Instances in her Story, can turn the most seemingly grievous Things to its own
Glory, and the Reward of suffering Innocence; and that, too, at a Time when all
human Prospects seem to fail.
 
Let the Rich, and those who are exalted from a low to a high Estate, learn from
her, that they are not promoted only for a single Good; but that Providence has
raised them, that they should dispense to all within their Reach, the Blessings
it has heaped upon them; and that the greater the Power is to which GOD has
raised them, the greater is the Good that will be expected from them.
 
From the low Opinion she every-where shows of herself, and her attributing all
her Excellencies to her pious Education, and her Lady's virtuous Instructions
and Bounty; let Persons, even of Genius and Piety, learn, not to arrogate to
themselves those Gifts and Graces, which they owe least of all to themselves:
Since the Beauties of Person are frail, and it is not in our Power to give them
to ourselves, or to be either prudent, wise, or good, without the Assistance of
Divine Grace.
 
From the same good Example, let Children see what a Blessing awaits their Duty
to their Parents, tho' ever so low in the World: And that the only Disgrace is
to be dishonest; but none at all to be poor.
 
From the Oeconomy she purposes to observe in her Elevation, let even Ladies of
Condition learn, that there are Family Employments in which they may, and ought
to, make themselves useful, and give good Examples to their Inferiors, as well
as Equals. And that their Duty to God, Charity to the Poor and Sick, and the
different Branches of Houshold Management, ought to take up the most
considerable Portions of their Time.
 
From her signal Veracity, which she never forfeited, in all the Hardships she
was try'd with, tho' her Answers, as she had Reason to apprehend, would often
make against her; and the Innocence she preserved throughout all her Stratagems
and Contrivances to save herself from Violation; Persons, even sorely tempted,
may learn to preserve a sacred Regard to Truth; which always begets a Reverence
for them, even in the corruptest Minds.
 
In short,
    Her obliging Behaviour to her Equals, before her Exaltation; her Kindness to
them afterwards, her forgiving Spirit, and her Generosity;
    Her Meekness, in every Circumstance where her Virtue was not concern'd;
    Her charitable Allowances for others, as in the Case of Miss Godfrey, for
Faults she would not have forgiven in herself;
    Her Kindness and Prudence to the Offspring of that melancholy Adventure;
    Her Maiden and Bridal Purity, which extended as well to her Thoughts as to
her Words and Actions;
    Her signal Affiance in God;
    Her thankful Spirit;
    Her grateful Heart;
    Her diffusive Charity to the Poor, which made her blessed by them whenever
she appear'd abroad;
    The cheerful Ease and Freedom of her Deportment;
    Her Parental, Conjugal and Maternal Duty;
    Her Social Virtues;
 
Are all so many signal Instances of the Excellency of her Mind; which may make
her Character worthy of the Imitation of her Sex, from low to high Life. And the
Editor of these Sheets will have his End, if it inspires a laudable Emulation in
the Minds of any worthy Persons, who may thereby intitle themselves to the
Rewards, the Praises, and the Blessings, by which she was so deservedly
distinguished.
 

                                     Notes

1 See pp. 93-94; her Alterations are in a different Character.
 
2 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 Path,
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.
 
3 O All ye Nations of the World,
Praise ye the Lord always:
And all ye People ev'ry-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.
