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, though I should have nothing but
silliness to write; for I know you divert yourselves on 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 hoped something would happen to
hinder it. I am glad you did not tell him the occasion of my coming away; for if
my fellow-servants should guess, it were better so, than to have it from
you or me. Besides, I really am concerned, that my master should
cast away a thought upon such a poor creature as me; for, besides the
disgrace, it has quite turned his temper; and I begin to believe what
Mrs. Jervis told me, that 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 dined, up stairs I went, and locked myself into my
little room. There I tricked myself up as well as I could in my new
garb, and put on my round-eared 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; though 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 equipped, I took my straw hat in my hand, with
its two blue strings, and looked about me in the glass, as proud as any
thing--To say truth, I never liked 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 liked me. I met, as I was upon the stairs, our Rachel, who is the house-maid; and
she made me a low courtesy, and I found did not know me. So I smiled,
and went to the housekeeper'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 pulled 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 looked at me
from top to toe: Why, you surprise me, said she: What! Pamela thus
metamorphosed! How came this about? As it happened, in stept 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 for her?--She turned me
about and about, and I shewed 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 returned 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 possibly to my sister
Davers's, and be absent some weeks. But, pray, what pretty neat damsel
was with you? She says, she smiled, and asked, 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?--Though 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 outdoes 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 stept to me, and told me, I must go in with her to her
master; but, said she, for goodness' sake, let him find you out; for he
don't know you. O fie, 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; though 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 dropt a low courtesy, 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, though I would not do her so much favour. This was a sad trick upon me, indeed, and what I could not expect; and
Mrs. Jervis looked like a fool as much as I, for her officiousness.--At
last I got away, and ran out of the parlour, most sadly vexed, as you
may well think. He talked a good deal to Mrs. Jervis, and at last ordered me to come
in to him. Come in, said he, you little villain!--for so he called 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 heaped 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 hooted 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 pushed 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.
I was going, however; but he stept 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 looked at me, and, as I thought afterwards, as sillily
as such a poor girl as I. At last he said, Well, Mrs. Jervis, as I was
telling you, you may permit 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 a 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, said 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 were
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 turned her away: and
when the time is come, that I should return to my poor parents, I am not
suffered to go quietly. Good your honour, what have I done, that I must
be used worse than if I had robbed you? Robbed me! said he, why so you have, hussy; you have robbed me. Who? I,
sir? said I; have I robbed you? Why then you are a justice of peace, and
may send me to gaol, if you please, and bring me to a trial for my life!
If you can prove that I have robbed you, I am sure I ought to die. Now I was quite ignorant of his meaning; though I did not like it, when
it was afterwards explained, neither: And well, thought I, what will
this come to at last, if poor Pamela is esteemed a thief! Then I thought
in an instant, how I should shew 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 called 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 turned 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, cried 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
distinguished by me, above a common servant? And does your ingratitude
upbraid me for this? I said something mutteringly, and he vowed he would hear it. I begged
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 the 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 more fearful
now. Just now Mr. Jonathan sent me these lines--(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--d 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, though 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: though I can't say too often, that I am (though with
great apprehension) 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 poor Pamela! Indeed, 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 when
I think of him!--But yet, don't be frightened--for--I hope--I hope, I am
honest!--But if my head and my hand will let me, you shall hear all.--Is
there no constable, nor headborough, though, 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: he 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 or Rachel, and
one I hate to see or be seen by and indeed I hate now to see any body.
Strange things I have to tell you, that happened since last night, that
good Mr. Jonathan's letter, and my master's harshness, put me into such
a fluster; but I will not keep you in suspense. I went to Mrs. Jervis's chamber; and, O dreadful! 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;
though 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 resolved to be angry with Mrs. Jervis for what had happened 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
suffered 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 turned 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
encouraged him. Do you think, my dear, said she, that I would encourage him?--I never
said so to you before; but, since you have forced 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, though
he pretends to be sorry for it: Well, he has given me warning to leave
my place, and uses me very harshly; perhaps 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 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! 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 considerations, and for what
I have heard this day, after you ran 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 were 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, 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 ashamed to
continue in the same mind? But, said she, when you had muttered this to
yourself, you might have told him any thing else. Well, said I, I cannot
tell a wilful lie, 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; so 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 your 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, said 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 into the closet;
but, hearing no more noise, thought it needless, and so went again and
sat myself down on the bed-side, and went on undressing myself. And
Mrs. Jervis being by this time undressed, 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: Indeed,
Mr. Jonathan's note was enough to make it do so, with what Mrs. Jervis
had said. I pulled off my stays, and my stockings, and all my clothes to
an under-petticoat; and then hearing a rustling again in the closet, I
said, Heaven 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
rushed my master in a rich silk and silver morning gown. I screamed, and ran to the bed, and Mrs. Jervis screamed 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 Heaven's sake! for pity's sake! Mrs. Jervis, said I, if I am not
betrayed, 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 threatened 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. Ay, 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 screamed, 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 dewy 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 proved to be, I found myself in bed, and Mrs.
Jervis sitting upon 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
overjoyed, 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? Tell
me! can I?--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 judged Rachel knew nothing of the matter; and it seems my
wicked master had, upon Mrs. Jervis's second noise on my fainting away,
slipt 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, 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; though they dare not say any thing. When I think of my danger, and the freedoms he actually took, though I
believe Mrs. Jervis saved me from worse, and she said she did, (though
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.--This
was a dreadful trial! This was the worst of all! Oh, that I was out of
the power of this dreadfully wicked man! Pray for