Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded

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, 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 Mr. B----. Things, I

hope, must be better than you expect. Providence 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, 'Our prayers are at length heard, and we are overwhelmed with joy. O

what sufferings, what trials, hast thou gone through! Blessed be

the Divine goodness, which has enabled thee to withstand so many

temptations! We have not yet had leisure to read through 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 through all yours in course. We were too

impatient, and so turned to the end; where we find your virtue within

view of its reward, and your master's heart turned 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 ruined you, if he could. But seeing your

virtue, his heart is touched; and he has, no doubt, been awakened 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 though 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 you have

had the grace to improve,) 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 inclination! So much prudence as you have shewn 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. Rut, 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 your afflictions. But it will be

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!'