Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded

Your dutiful DAUGHTER.

Oh! I forgot to say, that I would stay to finish the waistcoat, if I

might with safety. Mrs. Jervis tells me I certainly may. I never did a

prettier piece of work; and I am up early and late to get it over; for I

long to be with you.

LETTER XX

DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,

I did not send my last letters so soon as I hoped, 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; though he is very civil to me too. So I was forced

to stay till John returned.

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, perhaps, to read them myself, when I am come to you, to remind me of

what I have gone through, and how great God's goodness has been to me,

(which, I hope, will further 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, cambric head-clothes, fine holland linen,

laced shoes that were my lady's; and fine stockings! And how in a little

while must these have looked, like old cast-offs, indeed, and I looked

so for wearing them! And people would have said, (for poor folks are

envious as well as rich,) See there Goody Andrews's daughter, turned

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 should come to be

threadbare and worn out? And how should I look, even if I could purchase

homespun clothes, to dwindle into them one by one, as I got them?--May

be, an old silk gown, and a linsey-woolsey petticoat, and the like. So,

thought I, I had better get myself at once equipped in the dress that

will become my condition; and though it may look but poor to what I have

been used to wear of late days, yet it will serve me, when I am with

you, for a good holiday and Sunday suit; and what, by a blessing on my

industry, I may, perhaps, make shift to keep up to.