The maid Nan is a little apt to drink, if she can get at liquor; and
Mrs. Jewkes happened, or designed, 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 supped, 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 locked both doors, and saw poor Nan, as I thought, (but,
oh! 'twas 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 he better without her. Ay, said I, so we
shall; but won't she get cold? Said she, I hope you have no writing to-night. No, replied 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 conveniences of that
kind, and more paper than I am aware of; and I had intended to rummage
you, if my master had not come down; for I spied a broken tea-cup with
ink, which gave me 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 fetched a deep sigh!
What do you sigh for? said she. I am thinking, Mrs. Jewkes, answered
I, what a sad life I live, and how hard is my lot. I am sure, the thief
that has robbed is much better off than I, 'bating the guilt; and I
should, I think, take it for a mercy, to be hanged 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 instill
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 confirmed 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 byeword. 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 taught 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, though
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 I have lived about 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 them, 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
tricked 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 abandoned 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
be ruined; but contriving, if my poor wits had been able, to get out of
danger, and preserve myself honest. Then was he once jealous of poor John, though 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 strive 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 by
such an unlawful restraint; and which would not have been 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, though he is so far off. And
I have 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; and 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 closet, and kneeled down in my own, as I used to
do, to say my prayers, and this with my underclothes in my hand, all
undressed; 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 meanness will not Lucifer make his votaries stoop to, to gain their
abominable ends! Mrs. Jewkes, by this time, was got to bed, on the farther 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? though,
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-ache finely to-morrow for this! 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 but say
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 were no stranger to his fine articles. Said she, I think they were
fine articles, and you were bewitched you did not close with them: But
let us go to sleep. So I was silent; and the pretended Nan (O wicked,
base, villanous designer! what a plot, what an unexpected plot was
this!) seemed to be awaking; and Mrs. Jewkes, abhorrent 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.
Anne, I warrant your head aches most sadly! How do you do? Says he, One word with you, Pamela; one word hear me but; I must say one
word to you, it is this: You see now you are in my power!--You cannot
get from me, nor help yourself: Yet have I not offered 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!
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 sitting 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 have I
suffered 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, vowed, that he had
not offered the least indecency; that he was frightened at the terrible
manner I was taken with the fit: that he should desist from his attempt;
and begged but to see me easy and quiet, and he would leave me directly,
and go to his own bed. O then, said I, take with you 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 pacified. Here's Nan
knows, and will tell you, my concern for you. I vow to God, I have
not offered 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 be 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 not she 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, empowered me to
preserve my innocence; and, when all my strength would have signified
nothing, magnified himself in my weakness. I was so weak all day on Monday, that I could not get out of my bed. My
master shewed 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 began to
be fearful. He stopped short of the bed, and said, Rather than give you
apprehensions, I will come no farther. 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?--begged me to be composed; said, I still
looked 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 come
near you all this day, if you'll promise to compose yourself. Then,
sir, I will try. He pressed my hand very tenderly, and went out. What a
change does this shew!--O may it be lasting!--But, alas! he seems only
to have altered his method of proceeding; and 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. As soon as he saw me, 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 overflowed at the
remembrance, and I turned 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 fetched her smelling-bottle,
and we both did all we could to restore you; and my passion for you was
all swallowed 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 feared 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 passion your sex can shew when they are in earnest. But this
I repeat to you, that your mind may be entirely comforted--Whatever I
offered to you, was before you fainted away, and that, I am sure, was
innocent. 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 though 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'll 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 assured 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,
although 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 mentioned. And as to the second, considering her vile, unwomanly
wickedness, and her endeavours to instigate you more to ruin me, when
your returning goodness seemed to have some compassion upon me, it is
still harder. But, to shew 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 pleased to enjoin, which I can do,
with innocence. That's my good girl! said he, and kissed me: This is quite prudent, and
shews 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
obliged to you for all your diligence and fidelity to me; but Pamela, I
must own, is not; because the service I employed you in was not so very
obliging to her, as I could have wished she would have thought it: and
you were not to favour her, but obey me. But yet I'll assure you, at the
very first word, she has once obliged 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, shew 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 looked 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 forced to have done for that time. All this time, my papers, that I buried under the rose-bush, lay there
still; and I begged 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, may be, he may
watch an opportunity, and join force with it, on occasion, when I am
least prepared: 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 farther 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, though 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 answered. 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 thawed
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 delivered me from the paw of the
lion and the bear; that is, his and Mrs. Jewkes's violences, will soon
deliver me from this Philistine, 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 begged and
prayed he would let me go: and had I not appeared quite regardless of
all he said, and resolved not to stay, if I could help it, I know not
how far he would have proceeded; for I was forced to fall down upon my
knees. At last he walked 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 talk
with you, sir, said I, any more. Do you know, said he, whom 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 whom I talk to, 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 loved 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 towards 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 seeing him look displeased, 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 offered you?--I was bewitched
I had not gone through my purpose last Sunday night; and then your
licentious tongue had not given the worst name to little puny freedoms,
that shew my love and my folly at the same time. But, begone! said he,
taking my hand, and tossing it from him, 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 soothe me, and now
threaten me; and if I should forbear to shew my resentment, when you
offer incivilities to me, would not that be to be lost by degrees? Would
it not shew, 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 avowed my ruin?--And have you
once made me hope you will quit your purposes against me? How then, sir,
can I act, but by shewing 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 shew 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 shew 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 shew 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 walked by the side
of me some yards, without saying a word, and seemed vexed; 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 destined 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 dined, he took a turn into the stables, to look at
his stud of horses; and, when he came in, he opened 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, indeed, sir!
No, said I, pretty well, sir, considering. None of your considerings,
said he, pretty face; and tapped me on the cheek. I blushed, but was
glad he was so good-humoured; 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 used 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 loved. 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 eaten 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 teach me to
eat heartily: So I did eat it; but was much confused at his so kind and
unusual freedom and condescension. And, good lack! you can't imagine how
Mrs. Jewkes looked and stared, and how respectful she seemed to me, and
called 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 courtesied, 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
called 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 most of my ambition; and I hope, no temptation shall
make me otherwise. Notwithstanding I had no reason to be pleased 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 through 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
dreaded conflict, that my present hopes, if I am not to be deceived
again, began to dawn: which I presume to flatter myself with being
a happy omen for me, as if God Almighty would shew your poor sinful
daughter, how well I did to put my affiance in his goodness, and not
to throw away myself, because my ruin seemed inevitable, to my
short-sighted apprehension. So he was pleased 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 looked
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 good deal of wit, a great deal of penetration, much beyond
your years, and, as I thought, your opportunities. You are possessed
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 engaged
my affection 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, though in saucy terms enough, yet in such a manner as makes
me admire you the more. Your pretty chit-chat to Mrs. Jewkes, the last
Sunday night, so innocent, and so full of beautiful simplicity, half
disarmed my resolution before I approached your bed: And I see you so
watchful over your virtue, that though I hoped to find it otherwise, I
cannot but confess my passion for you is increased by it. But now,
what shall I say farther, Pamela?--I will make you, though a party, my
adviser in this matter, though not, perhaps, my definitive judge. You know I am not a very abandoned 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 gratified them, and not have shewn that remorse and
compassion for you, which have reprieved you, more than once, when
absolutely in my power; and you are as inviolate a virgin as you were
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 declined several proposals of that kind: How then,
with the distance between us in the world's judgment, 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!--Speak out, said
he, and tell me, when I bid you, What you think I ought to do? I cannot
say what you ought to do, answered I: 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 engaged without your approbation. Still he insisted upon a more explicit answer to his question, of what
I thought he ought to do. And I did, 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 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 your condition: And this, good sir, is the best advice I can
offer. Charming creature! lovely Pamela! said he, (with an ardour 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, still more explicitly,
what you would advise me to, 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 concerned 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 assured 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 border 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 shew 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 one of the
finest ladies 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 ungrateful: 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 yourself! 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 speak 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 married to, or that ever I thought of with such an idea. I
had brought my mind so to love poverty, that I hoped for nothing but to
return to the best, though the poorest of parents; and to employ myself
in serving God, and comforting them; and you know not, sir, how you
disappointed those 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 shews my fondness
for you,) have you not encouraged 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
resolved, 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
disguised 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 convinced that
you are not prepossessed, my vanity makes me assured, 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 though 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 avowed
attempts. You had shewed 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 escaped 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 prevailed
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 refused me; and then
it was he let me know, that there was no honourable way but marriage.
That I declined; 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
ruined, 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 pleased to call me. Well, said he, even in this your last speech, which, let me tell you,
shews more your honesty of heart than your prudence, you have not
over-much pleased 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! replied 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 abashed, leaned upon
his shoulder, to hide my confusion. He clasped 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 experienced in all the guilty tumults that my desiring soul
compelled 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 overpowered all my reserves. I threw myself at his
feet, and embraced 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 stopt 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 farther on this subject, I will take
my proud heart to task; and, till then, let every thing be as if this
conversation had never passed. 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 with a more formal manner, if I may so say, than before, and
lent me his hand; and so we walked toward 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 hushed, 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 rapped at our chamber-door this morning, soon after it was
light: Mrs. Jewkes asked, 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. Then, said I, and clung about her, let me slip on my
clothes first. But he rapped again, and she broke from me; and I was
frightened out of my wits, and folded myself in the bed-clothes. He
entered, and said, What, Pamela, so fearful, after what passed yesterday
between us! O, sir, sir, said I, I fear my prayers have wanted their
wished 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 up stairs, 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 the bride 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 confined, than for these three or four days
past,) that nobody sees her, nor delivers any letter to her, in that
space; for a person has been seen lurking about, and inquiring after
her, and I have been well informed, that either Mrs. Jervis, or Mr.
Longman, has written a letter, with a design of having it conveyed
to her: And, said he, you must know, Pamela, that I have ordered Mr.
Longman to give up his accounts, and have dismissed 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, as 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 people have suffered for my
sake!--Why, said he, I believe so too; and there was never a girl of
your innocence, that set a large family in such an 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, as
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 Mrs. Peters's
niece, and one of Lady Darnford's daughters, along with me; and Sir
Simon and his other daughter go in his chariot: so let all the gates be
fastened; and don't take any airing in either of the 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 shew 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 then I am gone. I durst not refuse, and said, God bless you, sir, wherever 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 dressed,
which looks as if what he said was likely: but really I have been used
to so many tricks, and plots, and surprises, that I know not what to
think. But I mourn for poor Mrs. Jervis.--So here is Parson Williams;
here's poor naughty John; here is good Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman, and
Mr. Jonathan, turned 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 towards me have made so many of my 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
fronts the elms; and a gipsy-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. She said, I
don't like these sort of people; but we will hear what she'll say to
us, however. I shan't fetch you any victuals, woman; 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 locked,
and she on the outside, and we on the inside; and so put her hand
through. She said, muttering over a parcel of cramp words; Why, madam,
you will marry soon, I can tell you. At that she seemed pleased, and
said, I am glad to hear that; and shook her fat sides with laughing.
The woman looked 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 employed 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 laughed 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, I cannot see the lines: but,
said she, and, stooping, pulled up a little tuft of grass, I have a way
for that; and so rubbed 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
looked 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
married, 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, and she would be drowned. This thing ran strongly in all our heads; and we went, an hour after, to
see if the woman was lurking about, and took Mr. Colbrand for our guard.
Looking through the iron gate, he spied a man sauntering about the
middle of the walk; which filled Mrs. Jewkes with still more suspicions;
and 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 opened the iron gate and walked down towards the man; and
guessing the woman, if employed, must mean something by the tuft of
grass, I cast my eye that way, whence she pulled it, and saw more grass
seemingly pulled up: then I doubted not something was there for me; and
I walked to it, and standing over it, said to Nan, That's a pretty sort
of wild flower, that grows yonder, near the 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 stooped, and pulled up a good handful of the grass,
and in it a bit of paper, which I put instantly in my bosom, and dropt
the grass: and my heart went pit-a-pat at the odd adventure. Said I,
Let's go in, Mrs. Anne. No, said she, we must stay till Mrs. Jewkes
comes. I was all impatience to read this paper: and when Colbrand and she
returned, I went in. Said she, Certainly there is some reason for my
master's caution: I can make nothing of this sauntering fellow; but,
to be sure, there was some roguery in the gipsy. 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 hastened up stairs to my closet, and found the billet to contain, in a
hand that seemed disguised, and bad spelling, the following words: 'Twenty contrivances have been thought of to let you know your danger:
but all have proved 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 determined 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 hired to
personate a minister. The man has a broad face, pitted much with the
small-pox, and is a very great companion. So take care of yourself.
Doubt not this advice. Perhaps you'll have had 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 to!--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 have had 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 hoped all the worst was over; and that I had the pleasure of
beholding a reclaimed man, and not an abandoned libertine. What now must
your poor daughter do? Now all her hopes are dashed! And if this fails
him, then comes, to be sure, my forced disgrace! for this shews he will
never leave till he has ruined 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 damaged by lying so long, Mrs. Jewkes came upon me by
surprise, and laid her hands upon it; for she had been looking through
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 punished. 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 discovered 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 discovered 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 deceived 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 owned 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 uninclined 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 ruined.
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. How Mr. Williams was arrested, and thrown
into gaol; and the concern I expressed upon it; and my 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 by 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 over-hearing
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 seized: For, how badly I came off, and what followed, I
still have safe, as I hope, sewed in my under-coat, about my hips. In vain were all my prayers and tears to her, to get her not to shew
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 by 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 come 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, without coming to me, went down to the parlour again.
And what with the gipsy 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 to give them to me again. To whom, says he, are they
written?--To my father, sir; but I suppose you see to whom.--Indeed,
returned he, I have not read three lines yet. Then, pray, sir, don't
read them; but give them to me again. That I will not, said he, till
I have read them. Sir, said I, you served me not well in the letters
I used to write formerly: I think it was not worthy your character
to contrive to get them in 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 gipsy 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 to see. 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 seriously, 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 charmed 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, though 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 has 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 penned 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; though, 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, though 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 within me. And so went down stairs. About nine o'clock he sent for me down into the parlour. I went a little
fearfully; and he held the paper 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, continued 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. 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 began: 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 though 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?
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 through
John's baseness, and now these, through 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 shewn me
those, had they been in your possession? I was not aware of this 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, till the former
part can come, that you will shew 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, replied
he. Why then, sir, 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 shew 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; though 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, sets us upon a par, at least in that respect. Sir, I could not
have taken those 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 logic very prettily. What the deuse do
we men go to school for? If our wits were equal to women's, we might
spare much time and pains in our education: for nature teaches 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 sharpened 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 loved you so
well. But then, sir, 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, in spite of your romantic notions, (which then, too,
perhaps, would not have had so strong a place in your mind,) might 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, resumed 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 begged 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 obeyed 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 saying 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 might 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, answered 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, replied
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. 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 obeyed in this unreasonable manner, though 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 shew them
to you; for you won't desire to see every thing. But I will, replied
he.--But say, Pamela, tell me truth: Are they above? I was much
affrighted. He saw my confusion. Tell me truth, said he. Why, sir,
answered 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 undressed a girl in my
life; but I will now begin to strip my pretty Pamela; and I 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 tied 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 to you. Will you, said he, on your honour, let me see
them uncurtailed, 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
served 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 withholds 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 of 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, unsewed
them from it. And there is a vast quantity of it. I will just slightly
touch upon the subjects; 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 back-door 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 as to think of throwing myself into the water.
My sad reflections upon this matter. How Mrs. Jewkes used me upon this
occasion, when she found me. How my master had like to have been drowned
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
married to the 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 of seeing preparations made for my master's coming. Her
causeless fears that I was trying to get away again, when I had no
thoughts 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 you, my dear parents, to be his mistress; with
an insinuation, that, may be, he would marry me at the year's end: All
sadly vile: With threatenings, 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 towards 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 carried
to church, to pray for his reclaiming, and my safety; which Mrs.
Jewkes seized, and officiously shewed 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 ache to think of it
still!) by falling into fits. Mrs. Jewkes's detestable part in this sad
affair. How he seemed moved at my danger, and forbore his abominable
designs; and assured me he had offered no indecency. How ill I was for
a day or two after; and how kind he seemed. 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 kindly he behaved 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, though he had used me so ill.
How sadly jealous he was of Mr. Williams; and how I, as justly could,
cleared myself as to his doubts on that score. How, just when he had
raised me up to the highest hope of his goodness, he dashed me sadly
again, and went off more coldly. My free reflections upon this trying
occasion.' This brought down matters from Thursday, the 20th day of my
imprisonment, to Wednesday the 41st, and here I was resolved to end, let
what would come; for only Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, remain to give
an account of; and Thursday he set out to a ball at Stamford; and Friday
was the gipsy 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
to-morrow morning. To be sure I have always used him very freely in my
writings, and shewed him no mercy; but yet he must thank himself for
it; for I have only writ truth; and I wish he had deserved a better
character at my hands, as well for his own sake as mine.--So, though 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, my dear parents, good night. Sunday morning. I remembered what he said, of not being obliged to ask again for my
papers; and what I should be forced to do, and could not help, I thought
I might as well do in such a manner as might shew I would not disoblige
on purpose: though I stomached 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, though 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 'spied me, and said, Do you expect to be courted to come to me?
Sir, said I, and crossed 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, though 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 searched, 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
scared, 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, 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 diminished, and have not strictly kept your promise, woe be to you!
Indeed, sir, said I, I have neither added nor diminished. But there is
the parcel that goes on with my sad attempt to escape, and the terrible
consequences it had like to have been followed with. And it goes down to
the naughty articles you sent me. And as you know all that has happened
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 abused as I am by such a saucy slut.--Sir,
said I, I have wondered 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 have an 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 moved, it is a sign
of a very cruel and determined 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 opened them: So much for your omen!
replied he. I am sorry for it, said I, very seriously; and was walking
away. Whither now? said he. I was going in, sir, 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 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 searched. Sir, said I, I can't stay, if you won't forbear that ugly world.--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, sealed up, as the former, with this
superscription; From the naughty articles, down, through 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 how can I write with any face, what must be
for your perusal, and not for those I intended to read 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 another
thing to tell you, added he, 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 suffered 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 mentioned the bricks
falling upon me, he got up, and walked to the door, and looked 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 should have had
you. You may see, sir, said I, what I ventured, rather than be ruined; and
you will be so good as hence to judge of the sincerity of my profession,
that my honesty is dearer to me than my life. Romantic girl! said he,
and read on. He was very serious at my reflections, on what God had enabled me to
escape. And when he came to my reasonings about throwing myself into the
water, he said, Walk gently before; and seemed so moved, that he turned
away his face from me; and I blessed 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 said, taking me about the waist, O
my dear girl! you have touched 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 used 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, added he, of terrifying you to my will, since I
could not move you by love; and Mrs. Jewkes too well obeyed me, when the
terrors of your return, after your disappointment, were so great, that
you had hardly courage to withstand 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 pushing 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 altar
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 made her undergo. All this looked well; but you shall see how strangely it was all turned.
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 despised and answered?--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 stamped with his foot, and
said, Begone! I tell you: I cannot bear this stupid romantic folly. One word, said I; but one word, I beseech you, sir. He turned from me in great wrath, and took down another alley, and so I
went, 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 walked 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 wrath. He has ordered 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 an equal condition
would have of it, if she were even to marry such a one!--His poor dear
mother spoiled 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 used to
be controlled, and cannot bear the least thing that crosses his violent
will. This is one of the blessings attending men of high condition! Much
good may do them with their pride of birth, and pride of fortune! say
I:--All that 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 out of the house this moment. Well, said I, but
whither am I to be carried 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
housekeeper 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 never 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 too, the grim
Colbrand going to get on horseback. 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 a 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. O that 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 moved by any thing in
them to alter his resolution. But if he should 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 borrowed: for all is over now
with you, I find. She saw me cry, and said, Do you repent?--Of what? said I.--Nay, I can't
tell, replied she; but, to be sure, he has had a taste of your satirical
flings, or he would not be so angry. O! continued 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! proceeded 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 courtesy, 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, though 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 passed by the parlour, she stepped in, and
said, Sir, you have nothing to say to the girl before she goes? I heard
him reply, though 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,
added 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 opened the
door before I knew what I did; and 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 turned 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 loath 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 ailed 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 suffered 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 out to the chariot, the same that brought me down.
So, Mr. Robert, said I, here I am again! a poor 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, ordered me not
to be wanting in respect to you, I would have shewn 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 resigned 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 elm-walk, 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 turned 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, though poverty be both your
lots, has had better hap, and you are, and have always been, blest in
one another!--Yet this pleases me too; he was so good, he would not let
Mrs. Jewkes speak ill of me, and scorned 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 alehouse,
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 forced to make hard shift for
his horses. Mr. Colbrand, and Robert too, are very civil. I see he has got my
portmanteau lashed 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 begged me to eat something: I
thanked 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 asked 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 ordered
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
arrived there. They both spoke so solemnly, that I could not 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
relation's.--May I not, said I, beg the favour to see it to-night? He
seemed so loath to deny me, that I have hopes I shall prevail on him by
and by. Well, my dear father and mother, I have got the letter, on great
promises of secrecy, and making no use of it. 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 delivered 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 entertained 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, at a time that I was inclined to pass
over all other considerations, for an honourable address to you; for
well I found the tables entirely turned upon me, and that I was in
far more danger from you, than you were 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 own behalf, I feared I could not trust myself with my
own resolution. And this is the reason, I frankly own, that I have
determined 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, though you
have spread such mischief through 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 looked 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 twelvemonth's compliment, though
but a mere compliment, to my ashes. 'Your papers shall be faithfully returned you; and I have paid so dear
for my curiosity in the affection they have rivetted upon me for you,
that you would look upon yourself amply revenged if you knew what they
have cost me. 'I thought of writing only a few lines; but I have run into length. I
will now try to recollect my scattered 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,
though I can forgive you, I never can my sister, nor my domestics; for
my vengeance must be wreaked 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 confessed, and his rigorous behaviour accounted for in such
a manner, as tortures me much. And all this wicked gipsy story is, as it
seems, a forgery upon us both, and has quite ruined me: For, O 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
voluntary 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 began; but crept, crept it has, like a thief, upon
me; and before I knew what was the matter, it looked like love. I wish, since it is too late, and my lot determined, that I had not had
this letter, nor heard him take my part to that vile woman; for then I
should have blessed myself in having escaped so happily his designing
arts upon my virtue: but now my poor mind is all topsy-turvied, 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 twelvemonth, 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 the word! O why was I not a duchess, to shew my
gratitude for it! But must labour under the weight of an obligation,
even had this happiness befallen me, that would have pressed 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 touched, is come upon 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 used me so hardly; and when,
likewise, thou hadst so well maintained thy post against the most
violent and avowed, and, therefore, as I thought, more dangerous
attacks! After all, I must either not shew 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 inn kept by Mrs. Jewkes's relation. 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 asked pardon: And she came, and begged excuse again, very
submissively, after Robin and Mr. Colbrand had talked 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 retired, as if to read
it; and so I did; for I think I can't read it too often; though, for
my peace of mind's 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 that 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 returned with a letter
for me, and another, enclosed, for Mr. Colbrand. This seemed 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; (though 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 improved 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 delights my memory. And
though 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 excellence 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 prepossessed 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 despatch Monsieur Colbrand with a letter to your father,
assuring him that all will end happily; and to desire, 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 answered, I shall have nothing to do, but to make you
happy, and be so myself. 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 cleared 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, 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
dialogued I with my heart; and yet, all the time, this heart is Pamela. I opened 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 delivered
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 please 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 gipsy 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 avowed 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, or 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 was prepossessed, 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!--Though hard will be my lot, to have my credulity so
justly blamable, 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 desired letter to you, assuring you, that I had before me happier
prospects than ever I had; and hoped all would end well: And that I
begged you would send me, by the bearer, Mr. Thomas, my master's groom,
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 guessed 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 wondered 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 I 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 moon-light, if I should
not be too much fatigued because there was no place between that and
the town adjacent to his master's, fit to put up at, for the night. But
Monsieur Colbrand's horse beginning to give way, made a doubt between
them: wherefore I said, (hating to be 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 failed, 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 have 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 reached the gate; but every body was a-bed. But one of
the helpers got the keys from Mrs. Jewkes, and opened the gates; and the
horses could hardly crawl into the stable. 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 shewed 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 lies towards the garden,--on the
other side of the house. Mrs. Jewkes said, He had a feverish complaint,
and had been blooded; and, very prudently, ordered Abraham, when he
awaked, 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. I did
not think I could have lived 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 ordered him to
draw near him, and was highly 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 be 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 make me a visit: If she won't, I'll rise, and go to her. Indeed, sir,
said she, you must be 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 entered the room. Yes, sir, said we; 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 concerned 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 so ill.--I can't be ill, said he, while you
are with me. I am very 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 begged me to sit down by his bed-side, and asked me, if I had obliged
him with sending for my former packet? 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 desired my company; and seemed quite pleased, 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
our chariot, or in the garden, or to the town, or wherever she will,
let her 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 had,
before you went, 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, though 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
incurred your displeasure, and that 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;
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 loved, and who really was a very good girl:
and of this you may be ashamed. 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
best 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 man, as you are,
in your person; so happy in the gifts of your mind, that every body
courts your company; and possessed 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 100L. 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 gentry, that brag of their
ancient blood, would be glad to have it as wholesome, 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 circumstances in
life?--But, on the contrary, may make their condemnations the greater,
as their neglected opportunities were the greater? Poor souls! how do I
pity their pride!--O keep me, Heaven! 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, though 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 others' dunghills!--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 occurred 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 message 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 shewn 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 might 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
nightgown. 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, though ordinary,
I am as clean as a penny, though 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 recovered!--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 seemed going to speak. What would
you say?--Sir, said I, (a little ashamed,) 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 would 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-eared cap, you shall go just as you are. But,
sir, said I, then you'll be pleased to go a bye-way, that it mayn't be
seen you do so much honor to your servant. O my good girl! said he, I
doubt you are afraid of yourself being talked 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 begged 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 ordered 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, through 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 3000L. more than her share came to by my father's will, when I
entered 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 the 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 public as man; and the world sees not your excellencies
and perfections: If it did, I should entirely stand acquitted by the
severest censures. 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 out-do 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 superior to 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 pleasantry on this subject, with my companions
of the chase, the green, and the assemblee; 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 servants; and the ladies will fly your acquaintance;
and still, though 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 through, 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 hugged 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 yourself to encounter with, 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 played 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 my 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 economy, as may not be beneath the rank
to which I shall have the honour 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 visit, if
your goodness will allow me so to do, the sick poor in the neighbourhood
around you; and administer to their wants and necessities, in such
matters as may not be hurtful to your estate, but comfortable to them;
and entail 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 chase, or where
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 some part of my time, the
sweetest by far! with your agreeable conversation, for an hour or two
now and then; and be indulgent to the impertinent overflowings of my
grateful heart, for all your goodness to me. The breakfasting-time, the preparations 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-humoured 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
delight in; but this I am not fond of, nor shall ever desire to play,
unless to induce such ladies, as you may wish to see, not to abandon
your house for want of an amusement they are accustomed to. Music, which our 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 though all
the latter will be employed in the family accounts, between the servants
and me, and me and your good self: yet reading, at proper times, will
be a pleasure to me, which I shall be unwilling to give up, 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 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 too much so early: 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 atoned 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
unhallowed 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 shewed 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; though you, unkindly, by your unseasonable doubts, nipped
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, though 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 outcast from your house and favour,
and as much repudiated, as if the law had divorced me from you! But sir, continued I, though I was so unseasonable as I was in the
garden, you would, I flatter myself, had you then heard me, have
pardoned my imprudence, and owned 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 to 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 though
I could part with you, while my anger held, yet the regard I had then
newly professed 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 whether you would return, (though 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 chased 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
suffered more than I could have imagined, till I experienced it, in
being banished your presence in so much anger; and the more still was I
affected, when you answered the wicked Mrs. Jewkes so generously in
my favour, at my leaving your house. For this, sir, awakened 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 tortured
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
secured 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. Meantime, 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 shew 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 gipsy letter; but I said, before I shewed
it to him, I have this letter, sir, to shew 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 disguised 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, disguised as the hand is, I know the
writer: Don't you see, by the setness 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 overwhelmed with your goodness,) to defend any body
that you are angry with: Yet, sir, so far as they have incurred 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 received this? On the Friday, sir, said I, that
you were gone to the wedding at Stamford.--How could it be conveyed
to you, said he, unknown to Mrs. Jewkes, when I gave her such a strict
charge to attend you, and you had promised me, that 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 desired 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 gipsy, 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 engaged, 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 a conviction with it. You must know, then, my Pamela, that I had actually formed such a
project, so well informed was this old rascally Somebody! and the time
was fixed for the very person described 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 hoped 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 undeceived; so that we might have lived for years, perhaps, very
lovingly together; and I had, at the same time, been at liberty to
confirm or abrogate it as I pleased. O sir, said I, I am out of breath with the thoughts of my danger! But
what good angel prevented the execution of this deep-laid design? 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 considered your untainted virtue, what dangers and
trials you had undergone by my means, and what a world of troubles I had
involved you in, only because you were beautiful and virtuous, which
had excited all my passion for you; and reflected also upon your tried
prudence and truth! I, though I doubted not effecting this my last plot,
resolved 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 how much I had
exclaimed against and censured 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 marked out for me; and, as I was assured, with no great satisfaction
to himself, when he came to reflect; my foolish pride was a little
piqued with this, because I loved to be, if I went 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
considered of the matter, and would not have him come, till he
heard further from me: And, in this suspense I suppose, some of your
confederates, Pamela, (for we have been a couple of plotters, though
your virtue and merit have procured 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 inspired me with resolutions to abandon the project, just as it
was to have been put into execution. But yet I own, that, from these
appearances, you were but too well justified in your fears, on this odd
way of coming at this intelligence; and I have only one thing to blame
you for, that though I was resolved not to hear you in your own defence,
yet, as you have so ready a talent at your pen, you might have cleared
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, 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 alarmed by, and concerned for) prepossession for some
other person: And this would have saved 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 cheerfulness with which I obeyed your recalling me to
your presence. Ay, that, my dear Pamela, said he, and clasped me in his arms, was the
kind, the inexpressibly kind action, that has rivetted my affections
to you, and obliges me, in this free and unreserved manner, to pour my
whole soul into 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 honoured 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
voluntary love in the person I would wish for my wife, that I would have
even prudence and interest hardly named in comparison with it: And can
you return me sincerely the honest compliment I now make you?--In
the choice I have made, it is impossible I should have any view to my
interest. Love, true love, is the only motive by which I am induced. And
were I not what I am, could you give me the preference to any other you
know in the world, notwithstanding what has passed between us? Why,
said I, should your so much obliged Pamela refuse to answer this kind
question? Cruel as I have thought you, and dangerous as your views to
my honesty have been; you, sir, are the only person living that ever was
more than indifferent to me: and before I knew this to be what I blush
now to call it, I could not hate you, or wish you ill, though, from my
soul, the attempts you made were shocking, and most distasteful to me. I am satisfied, my Pamela, said he; nor shall I want to see those papers
that you have kindly written for to your father; though I still wish to
see them too, for the sake of the sweet manner in which you relate what
has passed, and to have before me the whole series of your sufferings,
that I may learn what degree of kindness may be sufficient to recompense
you for them. In this manner, my dear father and mother, did your happy daughter find
herself blessed by her generous master! An ample recompense for all her
sufferings did I think this sweet conversation only. A hundred tender
things he expressed besides, that though they never can escape my
memory, yet would be too tedious to write down. Oh, how I blessed 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 blest 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, through 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 enraptured
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 passed between us in this pleasing turn, my Pamela will
see, and will believe, that the trials of her virtue are all over from
me: But, perhaps, there will be some few yet to come of 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, since 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 should be glad you would not refuse coming down
to us if I should desire it; for I would preface our nuptials, said the
dear gentleman! O what a sweet word was that!--with their good opinion
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
disposed to admire you. Sir, said I, after all that has passed, 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, weighed down with a 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 obliged to you, Pamela, said he, and pray be only dressed as you
are; for since 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 pleased it should be so, because they will perceive you owe
nothing to dress, but make a much better figure with your own native
stock of loveliness, than the greatest ladies arrayed in the most
splendid attire, and adorned 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 upon me with your favourable eyes: but,
nevertheless, I should be best pleased 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 shew 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
raised 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
because they are the effect of my master's goodness, being 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 obliged: 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, compared,
on the other, to the Creator; and so, with due deference, may his
beneficence be said to be Godlike, 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 well, and cheerful; and that makes me hope he
does not repent him of his late generous treatment of me. He handed me
out of the chariot, and to the parlour, with the same goodness, that
he shewed when he put me into 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
of you!--No, but the better, Mrs. Jewkes, said he; you have much obliged
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 opened her lips about
you. We have had a quite 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 called 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 forced 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 me, 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 any disservice, 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, if the
effects of our obedience may be different, yet as they proceed from one
cause, that must be always reverenced by me. See there, Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, we are both in generous hands;
and indeed, if Pamela 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 were likely so to 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 through the
dangerous paths I have trod, to this happy moment. My master was pleased to say, that he thought I might as well dine with
him, since he was alone: But I begged he would excuse me, for fear, as
I said, such 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 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 that 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 carried away my fear and my shamefacedness, as that does
all before it on the surface of its waters! He clasped me in his arms with transport, and condescendingly kneeled by
me, and kissing me, said, O my dear obliging good girl, on my knees, 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 be 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, compared to you! and how far, very far, do you, in every
generous way, leave me behind you! He raised me, and, as I bent towards the door, led me to the stairs
foot, and, saluting me there again, left me to go up to my closet, where
I threw myself on my knees in raptures of joy, and blessed that gracious
God, who had thus changed my distress to happiness, and so abundantly
rewarded me for all the sufferings I had passed through.--And oh, how
light, how very light, do all those sufferings now appear, which then
my repining mind made so grievous 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 on God, are strong, though my judgment in
general may be weak and uninformed: 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 written 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 stepped 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 since 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 papers at his coming up,) and so he saluted me, bid me good night,
and went down; and I finished up to this place before I went to bed.
Mrs. Jewkes told me, if it was more agreeable to me, she would be in
another room; but I said, No thank you, Mrs. Jewkes; pray let me have
your company. And she made me a fine courtesy, and thanked me.--How
times are altered! Thursday. This morning my master came up to me, and talked with me on various
subjects, for a good while together, in the most kind manner. Among
other things, he asked 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 repeated
my request, for the reasons aforegiven, 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 glowed between shame and delight. O how I
felt my cheeks burn! I said, I feared 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 with 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 shews I ought to oblige you all I may. Therefore
I will order my own little chapel, which has not been used for two
generations, for any thing but a lumber-room, because our family seldom
resided here long together, to be cleared and cleaned, 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 lumbered 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
several 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
looked 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 would 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 till 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?--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 shew 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 pleased to let me write over again one
sheet, I will; though I had relied upon your word, and not written them
for your perusal. What is that? said he: though 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 loath you should see, are very severe
reflections on the letter I received by the gipsy, when I apprehended
your design of the sham-marriage; though 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, replied
I, since you order it. While we were talking, Mrs. Jewkes came up, and said Thomas was
returned. O, said my master, let him bring up the papers: for he hoped,
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 forced 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 turned 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 conferred together upon your letter, madam, came out, weeping
bitterly, that grieved my very heart; and they said, Now all was over
with their poor daughter; and either she had written that letter by
compulsion, or had yielded to your honour; so they said; and was, or
would be ruined! My master seemed vexed, as I feared. And I said, Pray, sir, be so good
as to excuse the fears of my honest parents. They cannot know your
goodness to me. And so (said he, without answering me,) they refused to deliver the
papers? Yes, and please your honour, said Thomas, though I told them,
that you, madam, of your own accord, on a letter I had brought you, very
cheerfully wrote what I carried: 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 struggle with! and 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, and 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 had been so long
contending with? And then, and please your honour, he said, he could not
bear this; for his daughter was ruined, to be sure, before now. And so,
said Thomas, the good old couple sat themselves down, and, hand-in-hand,
leaning upon each other's shoulder, did nothing but lament.--I was
piteously grieved, said he; but all I could say could not comfort them;
nor would they give me the papers; though 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 bathed 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 their 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 wiped my eyes; and said to
Thomas, The good old folks are not to be blamed in the main. They don't
know my honourable intentions by their dear daughter; who, Tom, will, in
a little time, be your mistress; though 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 feared 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 tomorrow to dine with me, and I have ordered Mrs. Jewkes to
prepare for them. And must I, sir, said I, be shewn to them? O yes, said
he; that's the chief reason of their coming. And you'll see nobody equal
to yourself: don't be concerned. I opened 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 gipsy affair, and my
reflections, in which I called 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 forced 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 escaped and the troubles I had undergone. And how I
unseasonably, in the midst of his goodness, expressed my desire of being
sent to you, having the intelligence of a sham-marriage, from the gipsy,
in my thoughts. How this enraged 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
acknowledgment 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 forced
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 shewing 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 carried matters
down to Tuesday night last. All that followed was so kind on 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 further; for I was a little ashamed to be
so very open on that tender and most grateful subject; though his great
goodness to me deserves all the acknowledgments I can possibly make. And when I had looked 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 the
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 sealed 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 seemed much pleased 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 promised for my intentions in this letter.--O what halcyon days are
these! God continue them!--A change would kill me quite. He went out in his chariot in the afternoon; and in the evening
returned, 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, says he, how does my dear girl do now?--Whom 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 shew it you next opportunity.--And I stept out of my
chariot, to walk across this meadow, and bid Robin meet me with it on
the further part of it: And whom 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 towards 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 jumped 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
stammered 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, replied
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 believed 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
asked 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 walked.
He said he was very sorry he had incurred 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 sunbeams of a dangerous
affluence; and cannot think of confining ourselves to the common paths,
though 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 wished 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 upon it, as your function
might have allowed you to do; but immediately determined to counterplot
me, and attempt to secure to yourself a prize you would have robbed
me of, and that from my own house. But the matter is at an end, and I
retain not any malice upon it; though you did not know but I might, 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 Miss 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 any encouragement to his
addresses. 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 discovered the parson as I did,
the correspondence between you 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 I was so
hardly used, and had no prospect before me but dishonour, you will allow
that I should have seemed very little in earnest in my professions of
honesty, if I had not endeavoured to get away: but yet I resolved not
to think of marriage; for I never saw the man I could love, till your
goodness emboldened 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; though, at the same time, justice
calls upon me to say, that it is, some things considered, 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 dared not to say so. I hope in time he will be
reinstated in his good graces. He was so good as to tell me, he had given orders for the chapel to
be cleared. 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
concerned I was not dressed 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 walked two or three turns, and stept
himself to me. Come, my Pamela, said he, the ladies can't be satisfied
without seeing you, and I desire you'll come. I said, I was ashamed; but
I would obey him. Said he, The two young ladies are dressed 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 thither? 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 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 pleased to tell me? He said, 'spying me first, Look, there,
ladies, comes my pretty rustic!--They all, I saw, which dashed 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 placed me in, which made
me shine out in their eyes beyond my deserts. He said the young ladies
blushed, and envied me. When I came near, he saw me in a little confusion, and was so kind as
to meet me: Give me your hand, said he, my poor girl; you walk too fast,
(for, indeed, I wanted to be out of their gazing). I did so, with a
courtesy, 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 hoped to be better acquainted with me: and
Lady Darnford was pleased 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 kissed the loveliest
maiden in England. But, for all this, methought I owed him a grudge
for a tell-tale, though all had turned out so happily. Mr. Peters very
gravely followed 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 pleased.
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 gazed 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 rustic?--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 confused, 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 to be thankful for
the honour you are pleased to do me. Mrs. Jewkes came in with the canary, brought by Nan, to the alcove, and
some cakes 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 served 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 Mr. B---- by that name, for fear it should become a fashion
for all our ladies to do the like through 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 polished and
improved by the honour of such an example as yours. They all were very good and affable; and the young Lady Darnford, who
had wished to see me in this dress, said, I beg your pardon, dear miss,
as she called me; but I had heard how sweetly this garb became you, and
was told the history of it; and I begged it, as a favour, that you
might oblige us with your appearance in it. I am much obliged 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:
though 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 should have to the kindest
of gentlemen, when I can delight to shew the humble degree from which
his goodness had raised 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 too,
saying, It will be a reflection, madam, upon all the ladies, if you
don't do as they. 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 to 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 the good ladies, then,
will forgive me, sir, said I, I had rather be excused. They all said,
I must not be excused. I begged I might. Your reason for it, my dear
Pamela? said my master: since the ladies request it, I wish you would
oblige them. Sir, replied 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 whispered 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 pleased to say,
her distinction. Ay, says 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 seemed to lessen the disgrace of his stooping
so much beneath himself. Lady Darnford said, We will not oppress you; though we could almost
blame your too punctilious exactness: but if we excuse Miss Andrews from
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, replied 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, sir, 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 pleased they would take a turn about the
garden with me. I answered, I would very gladly attend them; and so we
three, and Lady Jones's sister-in-law, and Mr. Peters's niece, walked
together. They were very affable, kind, and obliging; and we soon
entered 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 would fain have had
my master make his addresses to her: but though Sir Simon is reckoned
rich, she was not thought 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 pitied her.--Indeed I did!--I wish all young persons
of my sex could be as happy as I am like 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 magnified 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 seemed quite pleased and rejoiced.
God bless him for his goodness to me! Dinner not being ready, the young ladies proposed a tune upon the
spinnet. I said, I believed 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;
though 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 made me learn, and used to be pleased 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 pleased
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 spared no
pains nor cost to improve me. She said, she wished Mr. B---- could be
prevailed 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; though 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 that solemnity that I have: For, indeed, though I have
before me a prospect of happiness, that may be envied by ladies of high
rank, yet 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 wouldst 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 vie
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 surprised?--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 dashed to see all those strange ladies and gentlemen; and now
to see Mr. Williams before them, as some of them refused his application
for me, when I wanted to get away, it will a little shock me, to see
them smile, in recollecting what has passed of that kind. Well, said he,
guard your heart against surprises, though you shall see, when you
come down, a man that I can allow you to love dearly; though hardly
preferably to me. This surprises me much. I am afraid he begins to be jealous of me. What
will become of me, (for he looked very seriously,) if any turn should
happen now!--My heart aches! 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
suffered 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 surprises,
though I should see, when I came down, a man he can allow me to love
dearly, though hardly better than himself, has quite alarmed 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 can't 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 surprises. I
never was so surprised in my life; and never could see a man I loved
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 enjoined 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 Providence 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 connexion, will
make one uniform relation of it. It seems, then, my dear father and you were so uneasy to know the truth
of the story which Thomas had told you, that fearing I was betrayed, and
quite undone, 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 (which he brought in his pocket) at an alehouse there, and got
shaved; and so, after he had eaten 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 brow-beaten. 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 confirmed his fears. 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 asked for the housekeeper; though, from what I had written, in
his heart he could not abide her. She sent for him in, little thinking
who he was, and asked 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 seemed 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 surprised, 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 alarmed 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
written you a letter to assure you, that she has reason to be well
satisfied, and happy. Ah, sir I 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
altered; for now the sweet girl has taken me prisoner; and in a few days
I shall put on the most agreeable 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. Meantime, 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 tortured 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 to let me know yet, that my father
was come; and went to the company, and said, I have been agreeably
surprised: 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,
begged 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 amused me about Mr. Williams, to half
prepare me for some surprise; though 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 is 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; whom we never saw before to-day, but cannot enough
admire. Said my master, This gentleman, Goodman Andrews, is the minister of the
parish; but is not young enough for Mr. Williams. This airy expression,
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 virtuous, 'tis all in all:
For all the rest is accident. But I doubt his honour has been too much
upon the jest with me. No, said Mrs. Peters, we are all witnesses, 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 opened 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
Andrews, we longed 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 wondered 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; though my face was that way too, and the table
before me. Said my master, Did you send your letter away to the posthouse, 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, gushed out
into a flood of tears, which he, good soul! had been struggling with, it
seems; and cried out, O my dear child! I knew the voice, and, lifting up my eyes, and seeing my father, gave a
spring, overturned 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 seemed concerned--I feared, said he, that the surprise would
be too much for her spirits; and all the ladies ran to me, and made me
drink a glass of water; and I found myself encircled 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 honoured mother? And half a dozen
questions more, before he could answer one. They permitted me to retire with my father; and then I poured forth
all my vows and thanksgivings to God for this additional blessing; and
confirmed all my master's goodness to his scarce-believing amazement.
And we kneeled together, blessing God, and one another, for several
ecstatic minutes and my master coming in soon after, my dear father
said, O sir, what a change is this! May, God reward and bless you, both
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 beforehand. 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, added he, do
you make this house your own; and the longer you stay, the more welcome
you'll be. After you have a little composed yourself, my dear girl, step
in to us again. I am glad to see you so well already. 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, my dear child?--O, said I,
several happy days!--I have written 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 divine goodness! How will your poor dear mother
be able to support these happy tidings? I will set out to-morrow, to
acquaint her with them: for I am but half happy, till the dear good
woman shares them 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, 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 madam? I rejoice to
see you so well! Pray let us have your company. And yours too, good Mr.
Andrews, taking his hand. 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 broken 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 surprised, and put out of
myself, before such good company. They said, All was very excusable; and
they were glad I suffered no more by it. They were so kind as to excuse me at cards, and played by themselves;
and I went by my master's commands and sat on the other side, in the
happiest place I ever was blest 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, lifting up his eyes, 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, so 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 joked with my master, saying, 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 comfortable as
I. My master was very urgent with them to stay supper; and at last they
complied, on condition that I would grace the table, as they were
pleased to call it. I begged to be excused. My master said, Don't be
excused, 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 hopes 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 placed 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 genteelly 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 seemed to please both sisters; for had the youngest miss been put
there, it might have piqued her, as matters have been formerly, to be
placed below me; whereas Miss Darnford giving place to her youngest
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 hedged 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 carved
it in a trice, and helped the ladies. Miss Darnford said, I would give
something to be so dexterous a carver. O madam, 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, happened to be a little out in carving, I'll send up
for my Pamela, to shew 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
begged he would permit me, at least, to come before we left those parts.
And they said, We hope, when the happy knot is tied, you will induce Mr.
B---- 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 asked my father, if he smoked? He
answered, No. He made us both sit down by him, and 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 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 gentleman. What says my Pamela? said my master: She does not
use to be at a loss for expressions. 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
temptations, and was not to be awed 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 on your side, and, blessed be God! so much prudence on 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 touched the bell, and called for Mrs. Jewkes. Where, said
he, does Mr. Andrews lie tonight? 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 retired. 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 dreamed of nothing but Jacob's ladder, and
angels ascending and descending, to bless him and his daughter. Saturday. I arose 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 joined 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 through; 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 spared me. Sir, said I--He interrupting me, said, Well, I
forgive you. You had too much reason for it. But I find, plainly 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 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 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 a hundred
times, with admiration, what a prodigious memory, and easy and happy
manner of narration, this excellent girl has! And though 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 I 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 carried her orders a little too far: and I
the more take notice of it, because you have not complained to me of
her behaviour, as she might have expected for some parts of it; though a
good deal was occasioned 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 my happiness is brought about
by the very means that I thought then my greatest grievance, I ought to
bless those means, and forgive all that was disagreeable to me at the
same time, for the great good that hath issued from it.--That, said he,
and kissed me, is sweetly considered! and it shall be my part to make
you amends for what you have suffered, 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 hope to hear this honest
heart of yours speaking at your lips. I enjoin you, Pamela, to continue
your relation, as you have opportunity; and though 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
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 pleased to commend it; and
said, That I had very charitably turned the last verses, which, in the
original, were full of heavy curses, to a wish that shewed I was not of
an implacable disposition though 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 excused himself; but
my master would have it so: but he was much ashamed, because of the
meanness of his appearance. 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 owned 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, says my good master, may it not be performed on Tuesday?
And then your father, maybe, will stay.--I should have been glad to
have had it to-morrow, added he; but I have sent Monsieur Colbrand for
a license, that, you may have no scruple unanswered; 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 would be pleased to indulge me still
to 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 Jephthah'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 awkwardness at the entrance into
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 dressed 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 bestowed upon me;) and so put on fine linen, silk
shoes, and fine white cotton stockings, a fine quilted coat, a delicate
green Mantea silk gown and coat, a French necklace, and a laced cambric
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 return due thanks, 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 a 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 tied. 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, replied 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 Misses Darnford, 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 style, madam, said she: It must
not be master now, sure!--O, returned I, this 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 foreside, 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
we came home; my father having had no opportunity to tell me of it. He was pleased to inform me of the chapel being got in tolerable order;
and said, it looked very well; and against he came down next, it should
be all new white-washed, and painted and lined; 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 Misses Darnford, and Lady Jones, would dine
with him on Sunday: And, with their servants and mine, said he, we shall
make a tolerable congregation. And, added he, have I not well contrived
to shew you that the chapel is really a little house of God, and has
been consecrated, before we solemnize our nuptials in it?--O, sir,
replied I, your goodness to me is inexpressible! Mr. Peters, said he,
offered 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 performed 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 stopt, 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 farther end? He, poor man, chose
to go on 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 astonished, 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
contrived; for Mr. Peters had been, as I since find, desired 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 confound you. Then I said, Mr. Williams, I am very glad
to see you well; and though 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 obliged 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 I should have had
reason to thank you, if, loving one person above all her sex, you had
robbed me of her, and married her yourself?--And then, said he, you are
to consider, that she was an old acquaintance of mine, 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 for those; much less could you be excused to invade a property
so very dear to me, and to endeavour to gain an interest in her
affections, when 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 preferred,
with her, any condition that could have befallen me, had I considered
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 would have been too much
pre-engaged to think of any body else. And give me leave further to
say, sir, that, though 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 raise her to, 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, added 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 shew 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 shew 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 had imbibed from him. Mr. Williams said, taking father's hand, You see, good Mr. Andrews, with
inexpressible pleasure, no doubt, 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 bowed,
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 though I
have been telling him, I think not myself obliged to his intentions; yet
I will own that Pamela and you are; and though 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; 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 the lady becomes yours; for you will then have a treasure
that princes might envy you. 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 confounded; 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, though 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 balanced 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 reaped 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 atoned 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 to his daughter; I thank her 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 man, 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 are 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 hand 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, unasked, 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 through 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,
satisfied 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 in 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 also 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, easy, and frank
manner; and I found I need 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 fancied I was reserved, moved me to be free with him, and to him;
and several times called upon me to help my father and Mr. Williams; and
seemed to take great delight in seeing me carve, 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 finished as he designs it, against his
next coming down, will be a very pretty place. My heart, my dear mother, when I first set my foot in it, throbbed a
good deal, with awful joy, at the thoughts of the solemnity, which, I
hope, will in a few days be 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 stept into
a corner, out of sight, and poured out my soul to God on my knees, in
supplication and thankfulness, that, after having been so long absent
from divine service, the first time I entered 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 my
happiness, 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 knew 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:
Though, if you expect a discourse, I am wholly unprepared for the
occasion. I would not have it, replied 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 no 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 mine 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 always have 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 matched to a man of sense and generosity!--How
edifying! How!--But what shall I say?--I am at 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 cancelled. 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 defrayed by my attorney; I ordered 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, answered he, I thank
you. My time will be so well employed all the way, in thinking of your
favours, that I choose to meditate upon them, as I walk home. My dear father was a little uneasy about his habit, for appearing at
chapel next day, because of Misses Darnford and the servants, for fear,
poor man, he should disgrace my master; and he told me, when he was
mentioning this, of 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 can never deserve the hundredth part of his goodness!--It is
almost a hard thing to be under the weight of such deep obligations on
one side, and such a sense of one's own unworthiness on 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 so much thinner than
I am, nor much shorter; he and I will walk up together to my wardrobe;
though it is not so well stored here, as in Bedfordshire. And so, said he, pleasantly, don't you pretend to come near us, till
I call for 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
were told. So am not I, said my master: Pray come along with me. He carried him up stairs, and shewed 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 fixed 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
tomorrow morning. Mr. Andrews brought only with him his common apparel,
not thinking to stay Sunday with us. And pray see for some of my
stockings, and whether any 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 the divine
goodness, and your virtue. Sunday. This blessed day all the family seemed 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 Misses
Darnford in their own. And we breakfasted together in a most agreeable
manner. My dear father appeared quite spruce and neat, and was quite
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 knew he had learnt psalmody formerly, in his
youth, and had constantly practised it in private, at home, on Sunday
evenings, (as well as endeavoured 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
performed 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 performed his part with great applause, making the
responses, as if he had been a practised parish-clerk; and giving the
xxiiid psalm, [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 paths,
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.] which consisted 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 through it distinctly, calmly, and fervently at the
same time; so that Lady Jones whispered me, That good man 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 shortest 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 blessings 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. Mr. Williams
judiciously keeping to generals; and it was an elegant and sensible
discourse, as my master said. My father was in the clerk's place, just under the desk; and Lady Jones,
by her footman, whispered 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 cxviith. [O all ye nations of the world,
Praise ye the Lord always:
And all ye people every 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.] My master thanked Mr. Williams for his excellent discourse, and so did
the ladies; as also did I most heartily: and he was pleased to take my
dear father by the hand, as did also Mr. Williams, and thanked him.
The ladies, likewise, made him their 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, though, that I dressed myself in a flowered satin, that
was my lady's, and looked 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 on version, before these good ladies go away.
My father smiled, but was half concerned 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 would
be loath to desire to hear any thing that would give me concern; 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, returned 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: here it is: and took it out
of his pocket. 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,
answered 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, replied 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 declined 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 turned 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 guarded 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. The ladies said, It was very pretty; and Miss Darnford, That somebody
else had more need to be concerned than the versifier. I knew, said my master, I should get no credit by shewing 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 prisoner 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
turned. It is this: IV. Alas! said we; who can once frame
His heavy heart to sing
The praises of our living God,
Thus under a strange king? Why, said my master, it is turned with beautiful simplicity, thus: IV. Alas! said I, how can I frame
My heavy heart to sing,
Or tune my mind, while thus enthrall'd
By such a wicked thing? Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, O, dear madam! could
you wish that we should be deprived 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 praised, but those who are not used 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 whom you make the Sons of Edom, and how you turn the
Psalmist's execrations against the insulting Babylonians. Well, Mr. Williams, replied 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, though thus oppressed, 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 ras'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. Though 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 spared! 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 the man be call'd
That takes thy little ones,
And dasheth them in pieces small
Against the very stones. Thus he said, very kindly, has my Pamela turned 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 borrowed 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 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 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 sufficient 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 he 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 seemed 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 on
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 license, 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
delayed 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
delayed 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,
asked me if I would have it in the first or the second seven? I
answered--for how could I do otherwise?--In the second. He desired 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. Misses Darnford 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, answered 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 returned 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 that the ladies could prevail upon my master
for, was a dancing match before he left this county: 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 begged 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 ordered 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, since
that horse will serve you, Mr. Andrews, to ride backwards and forwards,
to see us, when we go into 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 desired, 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, through the sense of his favours
and goodness. You may believe, my dear mother, how loath 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 overflowed, that I could hardly wish to detain him. Mrs. Jewkes brought two bottles of cherry-brandy, and two of
cinnamon-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 married; 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 would 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 both
loath 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 begged 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 concerned 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 a degree equivalent, 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 good night, my dear mother: And
God send my father a safe journey, and a happy meeting to you both! Monday. Mr. Colbrand being returned, my master came up to me to my closet, and
brought me the license. O how my heart fluttered 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,
though 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 mentioned
four 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 be
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
to-day!--Cannot! said he.--No, indeed, sir! said I--And was ready to
sink to see his generous impatience. Why flattered you then my fond
heart, replied 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 on a Thursday: On a Thursday my dear father and mother were
married; and, though poor, they are a very happy pair.--On a Thursday
your poor Pamela was born. On a Thursday my dear good lady took me from
my parents into her protection. On a Thursday, sir, you caused me to be
carried away to this place, to which I now, by God's goodness, and your
favour, owe so amazingly all my present prospects; and on a Thursday it
was, you named 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
married on the Thursday following. On a Monday, so many years ago,
my mother was preparing all her matters to be brought to bed on the
Thursday following. On a Monday, several weeks ago, it was that you had
but two days more to stay, till you was carried away on Thursday. On a
Monday, I myself, said he, well remember, it was that I wrote you the
letter, that prevailed 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 era as any you have named: And now, lastly, will you say,
which will crown the work; And, on a Monday I was married.--Come, come,
my dear, added he, Thursday has reigned 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 a
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, replied he, the
most material: for all we have to say may be talked of while the
parson is coming.--O, but indeed, and indeed, said I, it cannot be
to-day!--Well, then, shall it be to-morrow? said he.--Why, sir, if it
must not be on 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, answered I, if you please; for that will be, as you enjoined,
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, returned 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 looked 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 recalled, though 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, though, 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 justified; for he deserves of me all things in my poor
power. After this, he rode out on horseback, 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
would shew a thorough reconciliation on his part. But, said he, most
generously, I am apprehensive, from 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: As to what he may think, I can't answer; but as to any reason
for his thoughts, I can: For 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
asked, if any thing new had occurred? Yes, said he; I have had a
letter delivered 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 provoked,
added he, that after I had read it, I tore it in a hundred pieces, and
scattered 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 talked
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 concerned at this: And he said, Had I a 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 suffered so much from that of
her brother; and we are too nearly allied 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 unavoidable 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 shewing 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, returned 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
much 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 shew 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 wherever I go, and whatever I do: But now, I am on so laudable
a pursuit, that I value them not, nor those who employ them. I have
already ordered my servants to have no conference with any body for
ten or twelve days to come. And Mrs. Jewkes tells me every one names
Thursday come se'nnight 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 nobody else be wanting; 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, answered 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 used to do, I will keep close
up, so as not to disgust her with the sight of me. 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
have shewn you how a man, that generally acts 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 returned from you, my dear father, with the good news
of your health, and your proceeding in your journey to my dear mother,
where I hope to hear soon you are arrived. My master has just now been
making me play upon the spinnet, and sing to it; and was pleased 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 returned from an airing in the chariot; and I have
been delighted with his conversation upon English authors, poets
particularly. He entertained 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
proposed 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 have
settled; for I have a great many things to adjust: And I must go to
London; for I have accounts that have run on 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
entertainments that were not in his own choice. He was pleased to say, I make no doubt but that 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; though 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, at the
longest, is a poor transitory one; and I hope we shall be so happy as
to be enabled to look forward, with comfort, to another, 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: though
I charge you never forbear to mingle your sweet divinity in our
conversation, whenever it can be brought in a propos, and with such
a cheerfulness of temper, as shall not throw a gloomy cloud over our
innocent enjoyments. I was abashed 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 discouraged 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 helped
him to; and my heart is, every hour, more and more enlarged 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 through real
evils to this hopeful situation. I only fear, and surely 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, though most
unworthy, I am 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 escaped; 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 bark
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 passed in
conversation with my excellent benefactor; nor with the civilities of
M. Colbrand, Mrs. Jewkes, and all the servants, who seem to be highly
pleased 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 good-will: 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 good servants shall find in me a
kind encourager; indifferent ones be made better, by inspiring them with
a laudable emulation; and bad ones, if not too bad in nature, and quite
irreclaimable, reformed 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 performed. My heart cannot yet shake off this
heavy weight. Sure I am ungrateful to the divine 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 the 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
generously pities and comforts me! I begged to be excused supper; but
he brought me down himself from my closet, and placed me by him, bidding
Abraham not wait. I could not eat, and yet I tried, 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 concerned 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 ashamed 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 reached a chair,
and sat down by me, and put his kind arms about me, and said the most
generous and affecting things that ever dropt 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 could not sleep. This sweet confusion and thoughtfulness in my beloved Pamela, said
the kind man, on the near approach of our happy union, when I hope all
doubts are cleared up, and nothing of dishonour is apprehended, shew 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 seek a
refuge 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 shew to yours; and since I have, all the day long, suppressed even
the least intimation of the coming days, 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 on his arm; expect not reason from a
foolish creature: You should have still indulged 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
suffered me to stay by myself above, I should have made myself ashamed
of so culpable a behaviour!--But goodness added to goodness every
moment, and the sense of my own unworthiness, quite overcome my spirits. Now, said the generous man, will I, though 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 you will not then
have; you shall say but the word, and I'll submit. Yes, my Pamela; for
though I have, 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 been
so long used to it from you. This is a most generous instance of it; but
I fear--yes, I fear it will be 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 ashamed of myself, with all
these lovely views before me!--The honours you do me, the kindness you
shew 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 a 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 strengthened 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 returned: 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, returned I, your goodness has made them quite
happy! But I can't help being concerned about Lady Davers. He said, I am vexed I did not hear the footman out; because it runs in
my head he talked somewhat about her coming hither. She will meet with
but an indifferent reception from me, unless she comes resolved to
behave better than she writes. Pray, sir, said I, be pleased to bear with my good lady, for two
reasons. What are they? said he. Why, first, sir, answered I, because
she is your sister; and, to be sure, may very well think, what all the
world will, that you have much undervalued 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 have 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 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 gained: And, if she gives me reason, I'll try for it, I assure
you. Well, but, my dear girl, continued 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 talked as harshly to my heart, as Lady
Davers can do; and the naughty thing suggests to me a better, and more
grateful behaviour. He smiled, and, kissing me, said, I took notice, Pamela, of what you
observed, that you have none of your own sex with you; I think it is a
little hard upon you; and I should have liked you should have had Miss
Darnford; but then her sister must have been asked; and I might as well
make a public wedding: which, you know, would have required 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
piqued; though, 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 discouraged 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 lie under, 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 pleasurable 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 acknowledged 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 Heaven itself requires of us: But no more of these little
doubts, though they are the natural impulses of a generous and grateful
heart: I want not to be employed in settlements. Those are for such 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 experienced
truth, a well-tried 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 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 offered 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 Ladies Darnford. 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, answered 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 shew 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 wondered
that we are dressed. And the two parsons have promised secrecy, and will
go home. I believe you can't well avoid letting one of the maids into
the secret; but that I'll leave to you. Sir, replied 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 outhouses, 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 were 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, continued she, her ladyship,
proposes to be here time enough to hinder your nuptials, which she
takes, as we did, 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 obeyed his honour, to be
forgiven by you. Indeed, Mrs. Jewkes, returned 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 both be 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, replied 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, answered I, there can be but one reason given;
and that is, that I am a sad fool!--But, indeed, I am not ungrateful
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 from me with very great 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, though
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
farther than the ear. 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, good
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 duchess!--And here he must stand
the shocks of common reflection! The great Mr. B---- has done finely! he
has married 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 hand! I can only do the best I can; and
pray to God to reward him; and 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 cheerfulness. 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 soon to be--(be curbed in, my proud heart, know thy self, and
be conscious of thy unworthiness!)--has just left me, with the kindest,
tenderest expressions, and gentlest behaviour, that ever blest 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 dressed! 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, continued 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 doubt and
uneasiness; let a generous confidence in me take place; and let me see
it does, by your cheerfulness 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 soothe 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 confound poor bashful maidens, on such an
occasion, when they are surrendered 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 involved 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 shews 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 tossed by the boisterous
winds of a more culpable passion, I have now conquered it, and am not
so much the victim of your beauty, all charming as you are, as of your
virtue; and therefore 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 displayed by the augmented opportunities
which the condition you are now entering into will afford you.--O the
dear charming man! how nobly, how 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 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, will 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 alarmed
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
wrote thus far. I might have mentioned, that I dressed myself in a rich white satin
night-gown, that had been my good lady's, and my best head-clothes, 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! be 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, though 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 spoken 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 your
airing. 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 shewn Mr. Peters my little
chapel. Will you, Pamela, after breakfast, walk with us to it? If,
if, said I, and had like to have stammered, 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 recovered your fright
yet: how came your foot to slip? 'Tis well you did not hurt yourself.
Said Mr. Peters, improving the hint, You ha'n't sprained your ancle,
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, though 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 value it more 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 little 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 shall want it: but I
hope not. She gave me very good words, and begged 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, though; so I must hold by
you, Mrs. Jewkes. Do you know 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 ordered 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, whispered 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 judgment; 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 blushed, and said
softly, None, sir, but my great unworthiness. Then followed 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
answered, audibly, to this question, I will. But I could only make a
courtesy, when they asked me; though, I am sure, my heart was readier
than my speech, and answered 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 courtesy, 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 overwhelmed with his goodness, and the tender
grace wherewith he performed 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 joy. The joining of our hands afterwards, the declaration of our being
married to the few witnesses present; for, reckoning Nan, whose
curiosity would not let her stay at the door, there 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 married; and to whom?--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 behaved sadly. No, madam, said she, pretty well, pretty well! Mr. Peters walked out with me; and Mr. Williams and my master came out
after us, talking together. Mr. Peters, when we came into the parlour, said, I once more, madam,
must wish you joy on 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 joined. I told him, I was highly obliged
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 composed, I hope. Well, you see this is not
so dreadful an affair as you apprehended. Sir, said Mr. Peters, very kindly, it is a very solemn circumstance; and
I love to see it so reverently and awfully entered 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
breakfasting. 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 cheered 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 received it very kindly. And to Mr. Williams he said,
My old acquaintance, I have reserved for you, against a variety of
solicitations, the living I always designed 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 50l. So did this generous good gentleman bless us all, and me in particular;
for whose sake he was as bounteous as if he had married 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,
blessed God, and blessed him for his goodness; and he overwhelmed 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 vexed 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 wished 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 to travel round the country, and beat up their friends' quarters all
the way; and it is 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 seemed to be, as I looked through the window, setting up a hunting
note, as soon as they came to the gate, that made the court-yard 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 took refuge 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 apprehension 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 name) came up to me, and said, Well, I just come 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 ordered 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,
since 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 asked 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 my new station 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, replied 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 get down a bit of
apple-pye, and a little custard; but that was all. 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 snowball, 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 loath to sit
down; but my lady would have me.--She is very right, Mrs. Jewkes, said
my master, and tapped me on the cheek; for we are but yet half married;
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,
married 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. Abraham coming in to tell him the gentlemen were going, and that his
chariot was ready; I am glad of that, said he; and went to them, and set
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, O! 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 stile, 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 returned, and alighted there. What, my Pamela!
(and Mrs. Jewkes then left me,) What (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 downcast 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
solicitude, which appears in the most charming 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 oppressed 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 judgment, to make you no compliment, are more than
equal to mine: You have all the graces that education can give a woman,
improved by a genius which makes those graces natural to you. You have
a sweetness of temper, and a noble sincerity, beyond all comparison; 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;
although, if the riches of your mind, and your unblemished virtue, be
set 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 ensnared by the high condition to which your goodness
has exalted me, you make me hope, that I shall be confirmed and approved
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 cautioned 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, shew 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 entered the house together. Eight o'clock at night. Now these sweet assurances, my dear father and mother, you will say,
must be very consolatory to me; and being voluntary on his side, were
all that could be wished 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 through the sweet tender struggles of your over-nice
modesty, how much I owe to your intentions 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 though 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, through 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 behaved
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 retired 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 saluting me very
fervently, he 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 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 through
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 though
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 allowed
himself in attempts, that now I will endeavour to forget for ever,
should have behaved 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 emboldened 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 I will, 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 owed money in
the world; and he gave me fifty guineas, and bid me send them to you
in my packet, 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, continued 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 would 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 shew the
world, that I value you as I ought, and as if I had married 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, my dear parents,
can I think of any thing, but redoubled 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 seemed 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 mentioned 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 my own so lately 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; though 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 married, she will keep away, if she is not willing
to be reconciled; for she dares not, surely, come to quarrel with me,
when she knows it is done; for that would have a 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, kind gentleman; and, in short, is studious to shew, on every
occasion, his generous affection to me. And, after dinner, he told
me, he had already written 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 observed any part of my conduct such as he could not entirely
approve, 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 answered 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. We will come down hither again
before the winter, said he, 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, the diversions of
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
solicitation 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. O! how good
was this! But, indeed, his conduct is all of a piece, noble, kind, and
considerate! What a happy creature am I!--And then, may be, said he,
they will excuse us till we return into this country 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, replied 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 shew, 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
satisfied! 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 overpays 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 should not 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, must 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; though they have given their tongues no little license
about me: But I could have forgiven them, because I desire every body
should admire you; and it is with pride that I observe not only their
opinion and love, but that of 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 served me against you; and, I think, when he would have betrayed
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 gipsy 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 a single wish more has your grateful
Pamela! My heart is overwhelmed 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 thoughts 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 study
to prevent her wishes, and 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 packet, 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'm 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 rise from my new condition, and
the favours that are hourly heaped upon me by the best of husbands. When
I had got my packet for you finished, 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 (for I delight, and always shall, to call him by that
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 married
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
passed, and reinstate you in all 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 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 shewed 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 married 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 men, shall
be exerted to make every thing easy and agreeable to you: And as I shall
soon have the honour of attending my beloved to Bedfordshire, it will
be a very considerable addition to my delight, 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
the kind, except that to my dear father and mother, I think I ought to
shew it you unsigned, 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 sirname; 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 packet 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 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 seemed 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 shewed he was 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
farther than to 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 received at the hand
of thy gracious Providence! Then shall I not be useless in my
generation!--Then shall I not stand a single mark of thy goodness to a
poor worthless creature, that in herself is of so small account in the
scale of beings, a mere cipher on the wrong side of a figure; but shall
be placed on the right side; and, though nothing worth in myself, shall
give signification by my place, and multiply the blessings I owe to thy
goodness, which has distinguished 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
opportunities 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, compass: We have heaped up treasures
for those who came after us, though we knew not whether they would 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 reflect on the being
able to administer comfort and relief to those who stand in need of it,
as infinitely, of itself, rewards the beneficent mind. And how
often have I experienced this in my good lady's time, though 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 report I have made of a particular
distress, has augmented my good lady's first intentions in relief of it! This I recall with pleasure, because it is now, by the divine 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
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 believed 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 returned home to dinner, in compliment to me, though much
pressed 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 tomorrow 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 us 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 he 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
renewed his kind assurances to me, and, if possible, is kinder than
ever. This is sweetly comfortable to me, because it shews 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 begged 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
answered, I shall then, perhaps, have you do less good than you would
otherwise do, from a doubt of me; though, 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 well stocked, 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 theirs for both their
lives, without paying any rent; and I will allow them 50l. per annum
besides, that they may keep up the stock, and be kind to any other of
their 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, the English tongue affords not words, or, at least, I
have them not, to express sufficiently my gratitude! Teach me, dear sir,
continued I, and pressed his dear hand to my lips, teach me some other
language, if there be any, that abounds with more grateful terms; that I
may not thus be choked with meanings, for which I can find no 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
overwhelmed with his goodness! Well, said he, my dearest, let me desire you to mention this to them, to
see if they approve it. But, if it be your choice, and theirs, to have
them nearer to you, or even under the same roof with you, I will freely
consent to it. O no, sir, said I, (and I fear almost sinned 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, it 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 innumerable benefits. Excellent creature! said he: My beloved wants no language, nor
sentiments neither; and her charming thoughts, so sweetly expressed,
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, be signified 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,
though 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 blessed me with a
very good estate, and all of it in a prosperous condition, and generally
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 our 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 blest 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 tranquillity, and pleasing vivacity, in the temper
and behaviour of my beloved, who thereby shews he does not repent of his
goodness to me. I attended him to breakfast with great pleasure and freedom, 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, might give an unacceptable 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
be upon either of our minds that may occasion the least reservedness. I have often observed, in married 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 shews 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: though 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 dressed 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
whomsoever I bring home with me to my table, you'll 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 seemed to think it
the privilege of birth and fortune, to turn day into night, and night
into day, and are seldom stirring till it is time to sit down to dinner;
and so all the good old family rules are reversed: 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 all things but these, my dear, continued
he, I expect you to be a lady. And my good mother was one of this
oldfashioned cut, and, 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
hindered 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 be half an hour after me, or so. Then you'll have some time you may call your own, 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 oldfashioned rules, as near as
we can, we shall have our visitors conform to them too, and expect them
from us, and suit themselves accordingly: For I have always observed,
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 bias. He is a regular piece of
clock-work, they will joke, and all that: And why, my dear, should we
not be so? For man is as frail a piece of machinery as any clock-work
whatever; and, by irregularity, is as subject to be disordered. Then, my dear, continued the charming man, when they see they are
received, at my own 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 benefits of
this regularity. And who knows, my dear, but we may revive the good
oldfashion in our neighbourhood, by this means?--At least it will be
doing our 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 who broke in upon us, so
unwelcomely, last Thursday, are got out of the way, if that can ever be,
and begin to consider who 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 though I will not be so set, as to
quarrel, if they are not always exactly complied 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 nothing more to honour me with?
You oblige and improve me at the same time.--What a happy lot is mine! 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 natural
sweetness of temper, and that open cheerfulness of countenance, which
adorns you, when nothing has given my fairest apprehensions for her
virtue: A sweetness, and a cheerfulness, 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 a
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 observed, have been too much indulged by my good mother, have
an example from you, as well as a pleasure in you, which will never be
palled. One thing, continued he, I have frequently observed at the house of many
a gentleman, That when we have unexpectedly visited, or broken in upon
the family order laid down by the lady; and especially if any of us
have lain under the suspicion of having occasionally seduced our married
companion into bad hours, or given indifferent examples, the poor
gentleman has been oddly affected at our coming; though 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 had been accused, as have
always shewn 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 reserved, stiff, and formal; and has behaved 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 married life; for a man may not
(though, in the main, he is willing to flatter himself that he is master
of his house, and will assert his prerogative upon great occasions, when
it 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 vanquished 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
outlines; 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 shew 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 he had not. But be facetious,
kind, obliging to all; and, if to 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 happened 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 suffered it to spread all
over the company; and it was a pretty large one too; and not a person
in it but turned 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 turned
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 solicitous, methought, to keep
the good lady in countenance for her anger, that I broke his head in
revenge, and stabbed 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. I was exceedingly diverted with the facetious hints, and the pleasant
manner in which he gave them; and I promised to improve by the excellent
lessons contained in them. I then went up and dressed myself, as like a bride as I could, in my
best clothes; and, on inquiry, hearing 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 licensed to intrude upon you?--No, my
dear, said he, because you cannot intrude. I am so wholly yours, that,
wherever 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, obeyed your first kind injunction, as to dressing
myself before dinner; but may be you are busy, sir. He put up the papers
he was reading, and said, I can have no business or pleasure of equal
value to your company, my dear. What were 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 spared 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 occasion uneasiness to either. Now, my dear, said he, be so kind as 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's
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 excellent lessons you teach me! When you commanded 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 happy wedding-day, the coming of
Sir Charles Hargrave, and the other two gentlemen, (for which you were
quite unprovided, and which hindered 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 nonobservance 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 recede in your goodness, though 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 waist 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 passed 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,
though 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 Andrews, 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
looked 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, thought I, you would spare these compliments; for I
shall have some joke, I doubt, passed on 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, Mr. 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 whispered 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 Andrews, if I may judge by your easy deportment now, to what it was
when I saw you last, I hope you will let my sister, if you won't me, see
the happy knot tied! For she is quite wild about it.--I courtesied,
and only said, You are all very good to me, ladies.--Mr. Peters's niece
said, Well, Miss Andrews, 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, replied 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, answered 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 courtesy, offered first to me;
saying, Will your ladyship begin? I coloured like scarlet, and said,
No;--my master, to be sure! But they all took the hint; and Miss Darnford said, I'll be hanged if
they have not stolen a wedding! said Mrs. Peters, It must certainly be
so! Ah! Mr. Peters. I'll assure you, said he, I have not married 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
married 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 pleased; let me give you joy, dear madam, if it be so. And so
they all said, and saluted me all round.--I was vexed it was before Mrs.
Jewkes; for she shook her fat sides, and seemed highly pleased 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 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 offered me,
the upper end of the table; and performed 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 rode out to see a sick gentleman about
eighteen miles off, who begged (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 obliged to tarry all night from you; but, lest you should be
alarmed, 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. Though 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; though 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 farther, 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 asked if I will have her for a
bed-fellow, in want of a better? I thanked her; but I said, I would see
how it was to be by myself one night. I might have mentioned, that I made Mrs. Jewkes dine and sup with me;
and she was much pleased 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 much, I 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 used 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 shews,
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 nurtured by my good lady, if I should forget, with all
these mercies heaped upon me, what belongs to the station I am preferred
to!--O 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 received a letter
from him, which he wrote overnight, as I find by it, and sent early this
morning. This is a copy of it.