Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded

My dear Pamela, said she, and kissed me, I don't know how I should act,

or what I should think. I hope I should act as you do. But I know nobody

else that would. My master is a fine gentleman; he has a great deal of

wit and sense, and is admired, as I know, by half a dozen ladies, who

would think themselves happy in his addresses. He has a noble estate;

and yet I believe he loves my good maiden, though his servant, better

than all the ladies in the land; and he has tried to overcome it,

because you are so much his inferior; and 'tis my opinion he finds he

can't; and that vexes his proud heart, and makes him resolve you shan't

stay; and so he speaks so cross to you, when he sees you by accident.

Well, but, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you, if he can stoop to like

such a poor girl as me, as perhaps he may, (for I have read of things

almost as strange, from great men to poor damsels,) What can it be

for?--He may condescend, perhaps, to think I may be good enough for his

harlot; and those things don't disgrace men that ruin poor women, as the

world goes. And so if I was wicked enough, he would keep me till I was

undone, and till his mind changed; for even wicked men, I have read,

soon grow weary of wickedness with the same person, and love variety.

Well, then, poor Pamela must be turned off, and looked upon as a vile

abandoned creature, and every body would despise her; ay, and justly

too, Mrs. Jervis; for she that can't keep her virtue, ought to live in

disgrace. But, Mrs. Jervis, I continued, let me tell you, that I hope, if I was

sure he would always be kind to me, and never turn me off at all, that I

shall have so much grace, as to hate and withstand his temptations, were

he not only my master, but my king: and that for the sin's sake. This

my poor dear parents have always taught me; and I should be a sad wicked

creature indeed, if, for the sake of riches or favour, I should forfeit

my good name; yea, and worse than any other young body of my sex;

because I can so contentedly return to my poverty again, and think it

a less disgrace to be obliged to wear rags, and live upon rye-bread and

water, as I used to do, than to be a harlot to the greatest man in the

world. Mrs. Jervis lifted up her hands, and had her eyes full of tears.

God bless you, my dear love! said she; you are my admiration and

delight.--How shall I do to part with you!