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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.

TO MRS. ANDREWS

'MY DEAREST PAMELA, Monday night.

'I hope my not coming home this night will not frighten you. You may believe I can't help it. My poor friend is so very ill, that I doubt he can't recover. His desires to have me stay with him are so strong, that I shall sit up all night with him, as it is now near one o'clock in the morning; for he can't bear me out of his sight: And I have made him and his distressed wife and children so easy, in the kindest assurances I could give him of my consideration for him and them, that I am looked upon (as the poor disconsolate widow, as she, I doubt, will soon be, tells me,) as their good angel. I could have wished we had not engaged to the good neighbourhood at Sir Simon's for to-morrow night; but I am so desirous to set out on Wednesday for the other house, that, as well as in return for the civilities of so many good friends, who will be there on purpose, I would not put it off. What I beg of you, therefore, my dear, is, that you would go in the chariot to Sir Simon's, the sooner in the day the better, because you will be diverted with the company, who all so much admire you; and I hope to join you there by your tea-time in the afternoon, which will be better than going home, and returning with you, as it will be six miles difference to me; and I know the good company will excuse my dress, on the occasion. I count every hour of this little absence for a day: for I am, with the utmost sincerity,

'My dearest love, for ever yours, etc.'

'If you could go to dine with them, it will be a freedom that would be very pleasing to them; and the more, as they don't expect it.'

I begin to have a little concern, lest his fatigue should be too great, and for the poor sick gentleman and family; but told Mrs. Jewkes, that the least intimation of his choice should be a command to me, and so I would go to dinner there; and ordered the chariot to be got ready to carry me: when a messenger came up, just as I was dressed, to tell her she must come down immediately. I see at the window, that visitors are come; for there is a chariot and six horses, the company gone out of it, and three footmen on horseback; and I think the chariot has coronets. Who can it be, I wonder?—But here I will stop, for I suppose I shall soon know.

Good sirs! how unlucky this is! What shall I do!—Here is Lady Davers come, her own self! and my kind protector a great, great many miles off!—Mrs. Jewkes, out of breath, comes and tells me this, and says, she is inquiring for my master and me. She asked her, it seemed, naughty lady as she is, if I was whored yet! There's a word for a lady's mouth! Mrs. Jewkes says, she knew not what to answer. And my lady said, She is not married, I hope? And said she, I said, No: because you have not owned it yet publicly. My lady said, That was well enough. Said I, I will run away, Mrs. Jewkes; and let the chariot go to the bottom of the elm-walk, and I will steal out of the door unperceived: But she is inquiring for you, madam, replied she, and I said you was within, but going out; and she said, she would see you presently, as soon as she could have patience. What did she call me? said I. The creature, madam; I will see the creature, said she, as soon as I can have patience. Ay, but, said I, the creature won't let her, if she can help it.

Pray, Mrs. Jewkes, favour my escape, for this once; for I am sadly frighted.—Said she, I'll bid the chariot go down, as you order, and wait till you come; and I'll step down and shut the hall door, that you may pass unobserved; for she sits cooling herself in the parlour, over against the staircase. That's a good Mrs. Jewkes! said I: But who has she with her? Her woman, answered she, and her nephew; but he came on horseback, and is going into the stables; and they have three footmen.—And I wish, said I, they were all three hundred miles off!—What shall I do?—So I wrote thus far, and wait impatiently to hear the coast is clear.

Mrs. Jewkes tells me I must come down, or she will come up. What does she call me now? said I. Wench, madam, Bid the wench come down to me. And her nephew and her woman are with her.

Said I, I can't go, and that's enough!—You might contrive it that I might get out, if you would.—Indeed, madam, said she, I cannot; for I went to shut the door, and she bid me let it stand open; and there she sits over against the staircase. Then, said I, I'll get out of the window, I think!—(And fanned myself;) for I am sadly frightened. Laud, madam, said she, I wonder you so much disturb yourself!—You're on the right side the hedge, I'm sure; and I would not be so discomposed for any body. Ay, said I, but who can help constitution? I dare say you would no more be so discomposed, that I can help it.—Said she, Indeed, madam, if it was to me, I would put on an air as mistress of the house, as you are, and go and salute her ladyship, and bid her welcome. Ay, ay, replied I, fine talking!—But how unlucky this is, your good master is not at home!

What answer shall I give her, said she, to her desiring to see you?—Tell her, said I, I am sick a-bed; I'm dying, and must not be disturbed; I'm gone out—or any thing.

But her woman came up to me just as I had uttered this, and said, How do you do, Mrs. Pamela? My lady desires to speak to you. So I must go.—Sure she won't beat me!—Oh that my dear protector was at home!

Well, now I will tell you all that happened in this frightful interview.—And very bad it was.

I went down, dressed as I was, and my gloves on, and my fan in my hand, to be just ready to step into the chariot, when I could get away; and I thought all my trembling fits had been over now; but I was mistaken; for I trembled sadly. Yet resolved to put on as good an air as I could.

So I went to the parlour, and said, making a very low courtesy, Your servant, my good lady! And your servant again, said she, my lady, for I think you are dressed out like one.

A charming girl, though! said her rakish nephew, and swore a great oath: Dear aunt, forgive me, but I must kiss her; and was coming to me. And I said, Forbear, uncivil gentleman! I won't be used freely. Jackey, said my lady, sit down, and don't touch the creature—She's proud enough already. There's a great difference in her air, I'll assure you, since I saw her last.

Well, child, said she, sneeringly, how dost find thyself? Thou'rt mightily come on, of late!—I hear strange reports about thee!—Thou'rt almost got into fool's paradise, I doubt!—And wilt find thyself terribly mistaken in a little while, if thou thinkest my brother will disgrace his family, to humour thy baby-face!

I see, said I, sadly vexed, (her woman and nephew smiling by,) your ladyship has no very important commands for me; and I beg leave to withdraw. Beck, said she to her woman, shut the door, my young lady and I must not have done so soon.

Where's your well-mannered deceiver gone, child?—says she.—Said I, When your ladyship is pleased to speak intelligibly, I shall know how to answer.

Well, but my dear child, said she, in drollery, don't be too pert neither, I beseech thee. Thou wilt not find thy master's sister half so ready to take thy freedoms, as thy mannerly master is!—So, a little of that modesty and humility that my mother's waiting-maid used to shew, will become thee better than the airs thou givest thyself, since my mother's son has taught thee to forget thyself.

I would beg, said I, one favour of your ladyship, That if you would have me keep my distance, you will not forget your own degree.—Why, suppose, Miss Pert, I should forget my degree, wouldst thou not keep thy distance then?

If you, madam, said I, lessen the distance yourself, you will descend to my level, and make an equality, which I don't presume to think of; for I can't descend lower than I am—at least in your ladyship's esteem!

Did I not tell you, Jackey, said she, that I should have a wit to talk to?—He, who swears like a fine gentleman at every word, rapped out an oath, and said, drolling, I think, Mrs. Pamela, if I may be so bold as to say so, you should know you are speaking to Lady Davers!—Sir, said I, I hope there was no need of your information, and so I can't thank you for it; and am sorry you seem to think it wants an oath to convince me of the truth of it.

He looked more foolish than I, at this, if possible, not expecting such a reprimand.—And said, at last, Why, Mrs. Pamela, you put me half out of countenance with your witty reproof!—Sir, said I, you seem quite a fine gentleman; and it will not be easily done, I dare say.

How now, pert one, said my lady, do you know whom you talk to?—I think I do not, madam, replied I: and for fear I should forget myself more, I'll withdraw. Your ladyship's servant, said I; and was going: but she rose, and gave me a push, and pulled a chair, and, setting the back against the door, sat down in it.

Well, said I, I can bear anything at your ladyship's hands; but I was ready to cry though. And I went, and sat down, and fanned myself, at the other end of the room.

Her woman, who stood all the time, said softly, Mrs. Pamela, you should not sit in my lady's presence. And my lady, though she did not hear her, said, You shall sit down, child, in the room where I am, when I give you leave.

So I stood up, and said, When your ladyship will hardly permit me to stand, one might be indulged to sit down. But I ask you, said she, Whither your master is gone? To one Mr. Carlton, madam, about eighteen miles off, who is very sick. And when does he come home?—This evening, madam. And where are you going? To a gentleman's house in the town, madam.—And how was you to go? In the chariot, madam.—Why, you must be a lady in time, to be sure!—I believe you'd become a chariot mighty well, child!—Was you ever out in it with your master?

Pray, your ladyship, said I, a little too pertly, perhaps, be pleased to ask half a dozen such questions together; because one answer may do for all!—Why, bold-face, said she, you'll forget your distance, and bring me to your level before my time.

I could no longer refrain tears, but said, Pray your ladyship, let me ask what I have done, to be thus severely treated? I never did your ladyship any harm. And if you think I am deceived, as you was pleased to hint, I should be more entitled to your pity, than your anger.

She rose, and took me by the hand, and led me to her chair; and then sat down; and still holding my hand, said, Why Pamela, I did indeed pity you while I thought you innocent; and when my brother seized you, and brought you down hither, without your consent, I was concerned for you; and I was still more concerned for you, and loved you, when I heard of your virtue and resistance, and your laudable efforts to get away from him. But when, as I fear, you have suffered yourself to be prevailed upon, and have lost your innocence, and added another to the number of the fools he has ruined, (This shocked me a little,) I cannot help shewing my displeasure to you.

Madam, replied I, I must beg no hasty judgment; I have not lost my innocence.—Take care, take care, Pamela! said she: don't lose your veracity, as well as your honour!—Why are you here, when you are at full liberty to go whither you please?—I will make one proposal to you, and if you are innocent, I am sure you'll accept it. Will you go and live with me?—I will instantly set out with you in my chariot, and not stay half an hour longer in this house, if you'll go with me.—Now, if you are innocent, and willing to keep so, deny me, if you can.

I am innocent, madam, replied I, and willing to keep so; and yet I cannot consent to this. Then, said she, very mannerly, Thou liest, child, that's all: and I give thee up!

And so she arose, and walked about the room in great wrath. Her nephew and her woman said, Your ladyship's very good; 'tis a plain case; a very plain case!

I would have removed the chair, to have gone out; but her nephew came and sat in it. This provoked me; for I thought I should be unworthy of the honour I was raised to, though I was afraid to own it, if I did not shew some spirit; and I said, What, sir, is your pretence in this house, to keep me a prisoner here? Because, said he—I like it.—Do you so, sir? replied I: if that is the answer of a gentleman to such an one as I, it would not, I dare say, be the answer of a gentleman to a gentleman.—My lady! my lady! said he, a challenge, a challenge, by gad! No, sir, said I, I am of a sex that gives no challenges; and you think so too, or you would not give this occasion for the word.

Said my lady, Don't be surprised, nephew; the wench could not talk thus, if she had not been her master's bed-fellow.—Pamela, Pamela, said she, and tapped me upon the shoulder two or three times, in anger, thou hast lost thy innocence, girl; and thou hast got some of thy bold master's assurance, and art fit to go any where.—Then, and please your ladyship, said I, I am unworthy of your presence, and desire I may quit it.

No, replied she, I will know first what reason you can give for not accepting my proposal, if you are innocent? I can give, said I, a very good one: but I beg to be excused. I will hear it, said she. Why, then, answered I, I should perhaps have less reason to like this gentleman, than where I am.

Well then, said she, I'll put you to another trial. I'll set out this moment with you to your father and mother, and give you up safe to them. What do you say to that?—Ay, Mrs. Pamela, said her nephew, now what does your innocence say to that?—'Fore gad, madam, you have puzzled her now.

Be pleased, madam, said I, to call off this fine gentleman. Your kindness in these proposals makes me think you would not have me baited. I'll be d——d, said he, if she does not make me a bull-dog! Why she'll toss us all by and by! Sir, said I, you indeed behave as if you were in a bear-garden.

Jackey, be quiet, said my lady. You only give her a pretence to evade my questions. Come, answer me, Pamela. I will, madam, said I, and it is thus: I have no occasion to be beholden to your ladyship for this honour; for I am to set out to-morrow morning on the way to my parents.—Now again thou liest, wench!—I am not of quality, said I, to answer such language.—Once again, said she, provoke me not, by these reflections, and this pertness; if thou dost, I shall do something by thee unworthy of myself. That, thought I, you have done already; but I ventured not to say so. But who is to carry you, said she, to your father and mother? Who my master pleases, madam, said I. Ay, said she, I doubt not thou wilt do every thing he pleases, if thou hast not already. Why now tell me, Pamela, from thy heart, hast thou not been in bed with thy master? Ha, wench!—I was quite shocked at this, and said, I wonder how your ladyship can use me thus!—I am sure you can expect no answer; and my sex, and my tender years, might exempt me from such treatment, from a person of your ladyship's birth and quality, and who, be the distance ever so great, is of the same sex with me.

Thou art a confident wench, said she, I see!—Pray, madam, said I, let me beg you to permit me to go. I am waited for in the town, to dinner. No, replied she, I can't spare you; and whomsoever you are to go to, will excuse you, when they are told 'tis I that command you not to go;—and you may excuse it too, young Lady Would-be, if you consider, that it is the unexpected coming of your late lady's daughter, and your master's sister, that commands your stay.

But a pre-engagement, your ladyship will consider, is something.—Ay, so it is; but I know not what reason waiting-maids have to assume these airs of pre-engagements! Oh, Pamela, Pamela, I am sorry for thy thus aping thy betters, and giving thyself such airs: I see thou'rt quite spoiled! Of a modest, innocent girl, that thou wast, and humble too, thou art now fit for nothing in the world, but what I fear thou art.

Why, please your ladyship, said her kinsman, what signifies all you say? The matter's over with her, no doubt; and she likes it; and she is in a fairy-dream, and 'tis pity to awaken her before her dream's out.—Bad as you take me to be, madam, said I, I am not used to such language or reflections as this gentleman bestows upon me; and I won't bear it.

Well, Jackey, said she, be silent; and, shaking her head, Poor girl!—said she—what a sweet innocence is here destroyed!—A thousand pities!—I could cry over her, if that would do her good! But she is quite lost, quite undone; and then has assumed a carriage upon it, that all those creatures are distinguished by!

I cried sadly for vexation; and said, Say what you please, madam; if I can help it, I will not answer another word.

Mrs. Jewkes came in, and asked if her ladyship was ready for dinner? She said, Yes. I would have gone out with her but my lady said, taking my hand, she could not spare me. And, miss, said she, you may pull off your gloves, and lay your fan by, for you shan't go; and, if you behave well, you shall wait upon me at dinner, and then I shall have a little further talk with you.

Mrs. Jewkes said to me, Madam, may I speak one word with you?—I can't tell, Mrs. Jewkes, said I; for my lady holds my hand, and you see I am a kind of prisoner.

What you have to say, Mrs. Jewkes, said she, you may speak before me. But she went out, and seemed vexed for me; and she says, I looked like the very scarlet.

The cloth was laid in another parlour, and for three persons, and she led me in: Come, my little dear, said she, with a sneer, I'll hand you in; and I would have you think it as well as if it was my brother.

What a sad case, thought I, should I be in, if I were as naughty as she thinks me! It was bad enough as it was.

Jackey, said my lady, come, let us go to dinner. She said to her woman, Do you, Beck, help Pamela to 'tend us; we will have no men-fellows.—Come, my young lady, shall I help you off with your white gloves? I have not, madam, said I, deserved this at your ladyship's hands.

Mrs. Jewkes, coming in with the first dish, she said, Do you expect any body else, Mrs. Jewkes, that you lay the cloth for three? said she, I hoped your ladyship and madam would have been so well reconciled, that she would have sat down too.—What means the clownish woman? said my lady, in great disdain: Could you think the creature should sit down with me? She does, madam, and please your ladyship, with my master.—I doubt it not, good woman, said she, and lies with him too, does she not? Answer me, fat-face!—How these ladies are privileged.

If she does, madam, said she, there may be a reason for it, perhaps! and went out.—So! said she, has the wench got thee over too? Come, my little dear, pull off thy gloves, I say; and off she pulled my left glove herself, and spied my ring. O my dear God! said she, if the wench has not got a ring!—Well, this is a pretty piece of foolery, indeed! Dost know, my friend, that thou art miserably tricked? And so, poor innocent, thou hast made a fine exchange, hast thou not? Thy honesty for this bauble? And, I'll warrant, my little dear has topped her part, and paraded it like any real wife; and so mimics still the condition!—Why, said she, and turned me round, thou art as mincing as any bride! No wonder thou art thus tricked out, and talkest of thy pre-engagements! Pr'ythee, child, walk before me to that glass; survey thyself, and come back to me, that I may see how finely thou can'st act the theatrical part given thee!

I was then resolved to try to be silent, although most sadly vexed.—So I went and sat me down in the window, and she took her place at the upper end of the table; and her saucy Jackey, fleering at me most provokingly, sat down by her. Said he, Shall not the bride sit down by us, madam? Ay, well thought of! said my lady: Pray, Mrs. Bride, your pardon for sitting down in your place!—I said nothing.

Said she, with a poor pun, Thou hast some modesty, however, child! for thou can'st not stand it, so must sit down, though in my presence!—I still kept my seat, and said nothing.—Thought I, this is a sad thing, that I am hindered too from shewing my duty where it is most due, and shall have anger there too, may be, if my dear master should be there before me!—So she ate some soup, as did her kinsman; and then, as she was cutting up a fowl, said, If thou longest, my little dear, I will help thee to a pinion, or breast, or any thing. But may be, child, said he, thou likest the rump; shall I bring it thee? And then laughed like an idiot, for all he is a lord's son, and may be a lord himself.—For he is the son of Lord ——; and his mother, who was Lord Davers's sister, being dead, he has received what education he has, from Lord Davers's direction. Poor wretch! for all his greatness! he'll ne'er die for a plot—at least of his own hatching. If I could then have gone up, I would have given you his picture. But, for one of 25 or 26 years of age, much about the age of my dear master, he is a most odd mortal.

Pamela, said my lady, help me to a glass of wine. No, Beck, said she, you shan't; for she was offering to do it. I will have my lady bride confer that honour upon me; and then I shall see if she can stand up. I was silent, and never stirred.

Dost hear, chastity? said she, help me to a glass of wine, when I bid thee.—What! not stir? Then I'll come and help thee to one. Still I stirred not, and, fanning myself, continued silent. Said she, When I have asked thee, meek-one, half a dozen questions together, I suppose thou wilt answer them all at once! Pretty creature, is not that it?

I was so vexed, I bit a piece of my fan out, not knowing what I did; but still I said nothing, and did nothing but flutter it, and fan myself.

I believe, said she, my next question will make up half a dozen; and then, modest one, I shall be entitled to an answer.

He rose and brought the bottle and glass; Come, said he, Mrs. Bride, be pleased to help my lady, and I will be your deputy. Sir, replied I, it is in a good hand; help my lady yourself.—Why, creature, said she, dost thou think thyself above it?—And then flew into a passion:—Insolence! continued she, this moment, when I bid you, know your duty, and give me a glass of wine; or—

So I took a little spirit then—Thought I, I can but be beat.—If, said I, to attend your ladyship at table, or even kneel at your feet, was required of me, I would most gladly do it, were I only the person you think me; but, if it be to triumph over one who has received honours, that she thinks require her to act another part, not to be utterly unworthy of them, I must say, I cannot do it.

She seemed quite surprised, and looked now upon her kinsman, and then upon her woman—I'm astonished—quite astonished!—Well, then, I suppose you would have me conclude you my brother's wife; could you not?

Your ladyship, said I, compels me to say this!—Well, returned she, but dost thou thyself think thou art so?—Silence, said her kinsman, gives consent. 'Tis plain enough she does. Shall I rise, madam, and pay my duty to my new aunt?

Tell me, said my lady, what, in the name of impudence, possesses thee to dare to look upon thyself as my sister?—Madam, replied I, that is a question will better become your most worthy brother to answer, than me.

She was rising in great wrath: but her woman said, Good your ladyship, you'll do yourself more harm than her; and if the poor girl has been deluded so, as you have heard, with the sham marriage, she'll be more deserving of your ladyship's pity than anger. True, Beck, very true, said my lady; but there's no bearing the impudence of the creature in the mean time.

I would have gone out at the door, but her kinsman ran and set his back against it. I expected bad treatment from her pride, and violent temper; but this was worse than I could have thought of. And I said to him, Sir, when my master comes to know your rude behaviour, you will, may be, have cause to repent it: and went and sat down in the window again.

Another challenge, by gad! said he; but I am glad she says her master!—You see, madam, she herself does not believe she is married, and so has not been so much deluded as you think for: And, coming to me with a most barbarous air of insult, he said, kneeling on one knee before me, My new aunt, your blessing or your curse, I care not which; but quickly give me one or other, that I may not lose my dinner!

I gave him a most contemptuous look: Tinselled toy, said I, (for he was laced all over), twenty or thirty years hence, when you are at age, I shall know how to answer you better; mean time, sport with your footman, and not with me! and so I removed to another window nearer the door, and he looked like a sad fool, as he is.

Beck, Beck, said my lady, this is not to be borne! Was ever the like heard! Is my kinsman and Lord Davers's to be thus used by such a slut? And was coming to me: And indeed I began to be afraid; for I have but a poor heart, after all. But Mrs. Jewkes hearing high words, came in again, with the second course, and said, Pray your ladyship, don't so discompose yourself. I am afraid this day's business will make matters wider than ever between your good ladyship and your brother: For my master doats upon madam.

Woman, said she, do thou be silent! Sure, I that was born in this house, may have some privilege in it, without being talked to by the saucy servants in it!

I beg pardon, madam, replied Mrs. Jewkes; and, turning to me, said, Madam, my master will take it very ill if you make him wait for you thus. So I rose to go out; but my lady said, If it was only for that reason she shan't go.—And went to the door and shut it, and said to Mrs. Jewkes, Woman, don't come again till I call you; and coming to me, took my hand, and said, Find your legs, miss, if you please.

I stood up, and she tapped my cheek! Oh, says she, that scarlet glow shews what a rancorous little heart thou hast, if thou durst shew it! but come this way; and so led me to her chair: Stand there, said she, and answer me a few questions while I dine, and I'll dismiss thee, till I call thy impudent master to account; and then I'll have you face to face, and all this mystery of iniquity shall be unravelled; for, between you, I will come to the bottom of it.

When she had sat down, I moved to the window on the other side of the parlour, looking into the private garden; and her woman said, Mrs. Pamela, don't make my lady angry. Stand by her ladyship, as she bids you. Said I, Pray, good now, let it suffice you to attend your lady's commands, and don't lay yours upon me.—Your pardon, sweet Mrs. Pamela, said she. Times are much altered with you, I'll assure you! said I, Her ladyship has a very good plea to be free in the house that she was born in; but you may as well confine your freedoms to the house in which you had your breedings. Why, how now, Mrs. Pamela, said she; since you provoke me to it, I'll tell you a piece of my mind. Hush, hush, good woman, said I, alluding to my lady's language to Mrs. Jewkes, my lady wants not your assistance:—Besides, I can't scold!

The woman was ready to flutter with vexation; and Lord Jackey laughed as if he would burst his sides: G—d d—n me, Beck, said he, you'd better let her alone to my lady here for she'll be too many for twenty such as you and I!—And then he laughed again, and repeated—I can't scold, quoth-a! but, by gad, miss, you can speak d——d spiteful words, I can tell you that!—Poor Beck, poor Beck!—'Fore gad, she's quite dumbfoundered!

Well, but Pamela, said my lady, come hither, and tell me truly, Dost thou think thyself really married?—Said I, and approached her chair, My good lady, I'll answer all your commands, if you'll have patience with me, and not be so angry as you are: But I can't bear to be used thus by this gentleman, and your ladyship's woman. Child, said she, thou art very impertinent to my kinsman; thou can'st not be civil to me; and my ladyship's woman is much thy betters. But that's not the thing!—Dost thou think thou art really married?

I see, madam, said I, you are resolved not to be pleased with any answer I shall return: If I should say, I am not, then your ladyship will call me hard names, and, perhaps, I should tell a fib. If I should say, I am, your ladyship will ask, how I have the impudence to be so?—and will call it a sham-marriage. I will, said she, be answered more directly. Why, what, madam, does it signify what I think? Your ladyship will believe as you please.

But can'st thou have the vanity, the pride, the folly, said she, to think thyself actually married to my brother? He is no fool, child; and libertine enough of conscience; and thou art not the first in the list of his credulous harlots.—Well, well, said I, (and was in a sad flutter,) as I am easy, and pleased with my lot, pray, madam, let me continue so, as long as I can. It will be time enough for me to know the worst, when the worst comes. And if it should be so bad, your ladyship should pity me, rather than thus torment me before my time.

Well, said she, but dost not think I am concerned, that a young wench, whom my poor dear mother loved so well, should thus cast herself away, and suffer herself to be deluded and undone, after such a noble stand as thou madst for so long a time?

I think myself far from being deluded and undone, and am as innocent and virtuous as ever I was in my life. Thou liest, child, said she.

So your ladyship told me twice before.

She gave me a slap on the hand for this; and I made a low courtesy, and said, I humbly thank your ladyship! but I could not refrain tears: And added, Your dear brother, madam, however, won't thank your ladyship for this usage of me, though I do. Come a little nearer me, my dear, said she, and thou shalt have a little more than that to tell him of, if thou think'st thou hast not made mischief enough already between a sister and brother. But, child, if he was here, I would serve thee worse, and him too. I wish he was, said I.—Dost thou threaten me, mischief-maker, and insolent as thou art?

Now, pray, madam, said I, (but got to a little distance,) be pleased to reflect upon all that you have said to me, since I have had the honour, or rather misfortune, to come into your presence; whether you have said one thing befitting your ladyship's degree to me, even supposing I was the wench and the creature you imagine me to be?—Come hither, my pert dear, replied she, come but within my reach for one moment, and I'll answer thee as thou deservest.

To be sure she meant to box my ears. But I should not be worthy my happy lot if I could not shew some spirit.

When the cloth was taken away, I said, I suppose I may now depart your presence, madam? I suppose not, said she. Why, I'll lay thee a wager, child, thy stomach's too full to eat, and so thou may'st fast till thy mannerly master comes home.

Pray your ladyship, said her woman, let the poor girl sit down at table with Mrs. Jewkes and me.—Said I, You are very kind, Mrs. Worden; but times, as you said, are much altered with me; and I have been of late so much honoured with better company, that I can't stoop to yours.

Was ever such confidence! said my lady.—Poor Beck! poor Beck! said her kinsman; why she beats you quite out of the pit!—Will your ladyship, said I, be so good as to tell me how long I am to tarry? For you'll please to see by that letter, that I am obliged to attend my master's commands. And so I gave her the dear gentleman's letter from Mr. Carlton's, which I thought would make her use me better, as she might judge by it of the honour done me by him. Ay, said she, this is my worthy brother's hand. It is directed to Mrs. Andrews. That's to you, I suppose, child? And so she ran on, making remarks as she went along, in this manner:

My dearest PAMELA,—'Mighty well!'—I hope my not coming home this night, will not frighten you!—'Vastly tender, indeed!—And did it frighten you, child?'—You may believe I can't help it. 'No, to be sure!—A person in thy way of life, is more tenderly used than an honest wife. But mark the end of it!'—I could have wished—'Pr'ythee, Jackey, mind this,'—we—'mind the significant we,'—had not engaged to the good neighbourhood, at Sir Simon's, for to-morrow night.—'Why, does the good neighbourhood, and does Sir Simon, permit thy visits, child? They shall have none of mine, then, I'll assure them!'—But I am so desirous to set out on Wednesday for the other house—'So, Jackey, but we just nicked it, I find:'—that, as well as in return for the civilities of so many good friends, who will be there on purpose, I would not put it off.—'Now mind, Jackey.'—What I beg of you—'Mind the wretch, that could use me and your uncle as he has done; he is turned beggar to this creature!'—I beg of you, therefore, my dear—'My dear! there's for you!—I wish I may not be quite sick before I get through.'—What I beg of you, therefore, my dear, [and then she looked me full in the face,] is, that you will go in the chariot to Sir Simon's, the sooner in the day the better;—'Dear heart! and why so, when WE were not expected till night? Why, pray observe the reason—Hem!' [said she]—Because you will be diverted with the company;—'Mighty kind, indeed!'—who all—'Jackey, Jackey, mind this,'—who all so much admire you. 'Now he'd ha' been hanged before he would have said so complaisant a thing, had he been married, I'm sure!'—Very true, aunt, said he: A plain case that!—[Thought I, that's hard upon poor matrimony, though I hope my lady don't find it so. But I durst not speak out.]—Who all so much admire you, [said she,] 'I must repeat that—Pretty miss!—I wish thou wast as admirable for thy virtue, as for that baby-face of thine!'—And I hope to join you there by your tea-time in the afternoon!—'So, you're in very good time, child, an hour or two hence, to answer all your important pre-engagements!'—which will be better than going home, and returning with you; as it will be six miles difference to me; and I know the good company will excuse my dress on this occasion.—'Very true; any dress is good enough, I'm sure, for such company as admire thee, child, for a companion, in thy ruined state!—Jackey, Jackey, mind, mind, again! more fine things still!'—I count every hour of this little absence for a day!—'There's for you! Let me repeat it'—I count every hour of this little absence for a day!—'Mind, too, the wit of the good man! One may see love is a new thing to him. Here is a very tedious time gone since he saw his deary; no less than, according to his amorous calculation, a dozen days and nights, at least! and yet, TEDIOUS as it is, it is but a LITTLE ABSENCE. Well said, my good, accurate, and consistent brother!—But wise men in love are always the greatest simpletons!—But now cones the reason why this LITTLE ABSENCE, which, at the same time, is SO GREAT an ABSENCE, is so tedious:'—FOR I am—'Ay, now for it!'—with the UTMOST sincerity, my dearest love—'Out upon DEAREST love! I shall never love the word again! Pray bid your uncle never call me dearest love, Jackey!'—For ever yours!—'But, brother, thou liest!—Thou knowest thou dost.—And so, my good Lady Andrews, or what shall I call you? Your dearest love will be for ever yours! And hast thou the vanity to believe this?—But stay, here is a postscript. The poor man knew not when to have done to his dearest love.—He's sadly in for't, truly! Why, his dearest love, you are mighty happy in such a lover!'—If you could go to dine with them—'Cry you mercy, my dearest love, now comes the pre-engagement!'—it will be a freedom that will be very pleasing to them, and the more, as they don't expect it.

Well, so much for this kind letter! But you see you cannot honour this admiring company with this little expected, and, but in complaisance to his folly, I dare say, little desired freedom. And I cannot forbear admiring you so much myself, my dearest love, that I will not spare you at all, this whole evening: For 'tis a little hard, if thy master's sister may not be blest a little bit with thy charming company.

So I found I had shewn her my letter to very little purpose, and repented it several times, as she read on.—Well, then, said I, I hope your ladyship will give me leave to send my excuses to your good brother, and say, that your ladyship is come, and is so fond of me, that you will not let me leave you.—Pretty creature, said she; and wantest thou thy good master to come, and quarrel with his sister on thy account?—But thou shalt not stir from my presence; and I would now ask thee, What it is thou meanest by shewing me this letter?—Why, madam, said I, to shew your ladyship how I was engaged for this day and evening.—And for nothing else? said she. Why, I can't tell, madam, said I: But if you can collect from it any other circumstances, I might hope I should not be the worse treated.

I saw her eyes began to sparkle with passion: and she took my hand, and said, grasping it very hard, I know, confident creature, that thou shewedst it me to insult me!—You shewed it me, to let me see, that he could be civiller to a beggar born, than to me, or to my good Lord Davers!—You shewed it me, as if you'd have me to be as credulous a fool as yourself, to believe your marriage true, when I know the whole trick of it, and have reason to believe you do too; and you shewed it me, to upbraid me with his stooping to such painted dirt, to the disgrace of a family, ancient and untainted beyond most in the kingdom. And now will I give thee one hundred guineas for one bold word, that I may fell thee at my foot!

Was not this very dreadful! To be sure, I had better have kept the letter from her. I was quite frightened!—And this fearful menace, and her fiery eyes, and rageful countenance, made me lose all my courage.—So I said, weeping, Good your ladyship, pity me!—Indeed I am honest; indeed I am virtuous; indeed I would not do a bad thing for the world!

Though I know, said she, the whole trick of thy pretended marriage, and thy foolish ring here, and all the rest of the wicked nonsense, yet I should not have patience with thee, if thou shouldst but offer to let me know thy vanity prompts thee to believe thou art married to my brother!—I could not bear the thought!—So take care, Pamela; take care, beggarly brat; take care.

Good madam, said I, spare my dear parents. They are honest and industrious: they were once in a very creditable way, and never were beggars. Misfortunes may attend any body: And I can bear the cruellest imputations on myself, because I know my innocence; but upon such honest, industrious parents, who went through the greatest trials, without being beholden to any thing but God's blessing, and their own hard labour; I cannot bear reflection.

What! art thou setting up for a family, creature as thou art! God give me patience with thee! I suppose my brother's folly, and his wickedness, together, will, in a little while, occasion a search at the heralds' office, to set out thy wretched obscurity! Provoke me, I desire thou wilt! One hundred guineas will I give thee, to say but thou thinkest thou art married to my brother.

Your ladyship, I hope, won't kill me: And since nothing I can say will please you, but your ladyship is resolved to quarrel with me; since I must not say what I think, on one hand nor another; whatever your ladyship designs by me, be pleased to do, and let me depart your presence!

She gave me a slap on the hand, and reached to box my ear; but Mrs. Jewkes hearkening without, and her woman too, they both came in at that instant; and Mrs. Jewkes said, pushing herself in between us; Your ladyship knows not what you do! Indeed you don't! My master would never forgive me, if I suffered, in his house, one he so dearly loves, to be so used; and it must not be, though you are Lady Davers. Her woman too interposed, and told her, I was not worth her ladyship's anger. But she was like a person beside herself.

I offered to go out, and Mrs. Jewkes took my hand to lead me out: But her kinsman set his back against the door, and put his hand to his sword, and said, I should not go, till his aunt permitted it. He drew it half-way, and I was so terrified, that I cried out, Oh, the sword! the sword! and, not knowing what I did, I ran to my lady herself, and clasped my arms about her, forgetting, just then, how much she was my enemy, and said, sinking on my knees, Defend me, good your ladyship! the sword! the sword!—Mrs. Jewkes said, Oh! my lady will fall into fits! But Lady Davers was herself so startled at the matter being carried so far, that she did not mind her words, and said, Jackey, don't draw your sword!—You see, as great as her spirit is, she can't bear that.

Come, said she, be comforted; he shan't frighten you!—I'll try to overcome my anger, and will pity you. So, wench, rise up, and don't be foolish. Mrs. Jewkes held her salts to my nose, and I did not faint. And my lady said, Mrs. Jewkes, if you would be forgiven, leave Pamela and me by ourselves; and, Jackey, do you withdraw; only you, Beck, stay.

So I sat down in the window, all in a sad fluster; for, to be sure, I was sadly frightened.—Said her woman, You should not sit in my lady's presence, Mrs. Pamela. Yes, let her sit till she is a little recovered of her fright, said my lady, and do you set my chair by her. And so she sat over-against me, and said, To be sure, Pamela, you have been very provoking with your tongue, to be sure you have, as well upon my nephew, (who is a man of quality too,) as me. And palliating her cruel usage, and beginning, I suppose, to think herself she had carried it further than she could answer it to her brother, she wanted to lay the fault upon me. Own, said she, you have been very saucy; and beg my pardon, and beg Jackey's pardon, and I will try to pity you. For you are a sweet girl, after all; if you had but held out, and been honest.

'Tis injurious to me, madam, said I, to imagine I am not honest!—Said she, Have you not been a-bed with my brother? tell me that. Your ladyship, replied I, asks your questions in a strange way, and in strange words.

O! your delicacy is wounded, I suppose, by my plain questions!—This niceness will soon leave you, wench: It will, indeed. But answer me directly. Then your ladyship's next question, said I, will be, Am I married? And you won't bear my answer to that—and will beat me again.

I han't beat you yet; have I, Beck? said she. So you want to make out a story, do you?—But, indeed, I can't bear thou shouldst so much as think thou art my sister. I know the whole trick of it; and so, 'tis my opinion, dost thou. It is only thy little cunning, that it might look like a cloak to thy yielding, and get better terms from him. Pr'ythee, pr'ythee, wench, thou seest I know the world a little;—almost as much at thirty-two, as thou dost at sixteen.—Remember that!

I rose from the window, and walking to the other end of the room, Beat me again, if you please, said I, but I must tell your ladyship, I scorn your words, and am as much married as your ladyship!

At that she ran to me; but her woman interposed again: Let the vain wicked creature go from your presence, madam, said she. She is not worthy to be in it. She will but vex your ladyship. Stand away, Beck, said she. That's an assertion that I would not take from my brother, I can't bear it. As much married as I!—Is that to be borne? But if the creature believes she is, madam, said her woman, she is to be as much pitied for her credulity, as despised for her vanity.

I was in hopes to have slipt out at the door; but she caught hold of my gown, and pulled me back. Pray your ladyship, said I, don't kill me!—I have done no harm.—But she locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. So, seeing Mrs. Jewkes before the window, I lifted up the sash, and said, Mrs. Jewkes, I believe it would be best for the chariot to go to your master, and let him know, that Lady Davers is here; and I cannot leave her ladyship.

She was resolved to be displeased, let me say what I would.

Said she, No, no; he'll then think, that I make the creature my companion, and know not how to part with her. I thought your ladyship, replied I, could not have taken exceptions at this message. Thou knowest nothing, wench, said she, of what belongs to people of condition: How shouldst thou? Nor, thought I, do I desire it, at this rate.

What shall I say, madam? said I. Nothing at all, replied she; let him expect his dearest love, and be disappointed; it is but adding a few more hours, and he will make every one a day, in his amorous account.—Mrs. Jewkes coming nearer me, and my lady walking about the room, being then at the end, I whispered, Let Robert stay at the elms; I'll have a struggle for't by and by.

As much married as I! repeated she.—The insolence of the creature!—And so she walked about the room, talking to herself, to her woman, and now and then to me; but seeing I could not please her, I thought I had better be silent. And then it was, Am I not worthy an answer? If I speak, said I, your ladyship is angry at me, though ever so respectfully; if I do not, I cannot please: Would your ladyship tell me but how I shall oblige you, and I would do it with all my heart.

Confess the truth, said she, that thou art an undone creature; hast been in bed with thy master; and art sorry for it, and for the mischief thou hast occasioned between him and me; and then I'll pity thee, and persuade him to pack thee off, with a hundred or two of guineas; and some honest farmer may take pity of thee, and patch up thy shame, for the sake of the money; and if nobody will have thee, thou must vow penitence, and be as humble as I once thought thee.

I was quite sick at heart, at all this passionate extravagance, and to be hindered from being where was the desire of my soul, and afraid too of incurring my dear master's displeasure; and, as I sat, I saw it was no hard matter to get out of the window into the front yard, the parlour being even with the yard, and so have a fair run for it; and after I had seen my lady at the other end of the room again, in her walks, having not pulled down the sash, when I spoke to Mrs. Jewkes, I got upon the seat, and whipped out in a minute, and ran away as hard as I could drive, my lady calling after me to return, and her woman at the other window: But two of her servants appearing at her crying out, and she bidding them to stop me, I said, Touch me at your peril, fellows! But their lady's commands would have prevailed on them, had not Mr. Colbrand, who, it seems, had been kindly ordered, by Mrs. Jewkes, to be within call, when she saw how I was treated, come up, and put on one of his deadly fierce looks, the only time, I thought, it ever became him, and said, He would chine the man, that was his word, who offered to touch his lady; and so he ran alongside of me; and I heard my lady say, The creature flies like a bird! And, indeed, Mr. Colbrand, with his huge strides, could hardly keep pace with me; and I never stopped, till I got to the chariot; and Robert had got down, seeing me running at a distance, and held the door in his hand, with the step ready down; and in I jumped, without touching the step, saying, Drive me, drive me, as fast as you can, out of my lady's reach! And he mounted; and Colbrand said, Don't be frightened, madam; nobody shall hurt you.—And shut the door, and away Robert drove; but I was quite out of breath, and did not recover it, and my fright, all the way.

Mr. Colbrand was so kind, but I did not know it till the chariot stopped at Sir Simon's, to step up behind the carriage, lest, as he said, my lady should send after me; and he told Mrs. Jewkes, when he got home, that he never saw such a runner as me in his life.

When the chariot stopped, which was not till six o'clock, so long did this cruel lady keep me, Miss Darnford ran out to me: O madam, said she, ten times welcome! but you'll be beat, I can tell you! for here has been Mr. B—— come these two hours, and is very angry with you.

That's hard indeed, said I;—Indeed I can't afford it;—for I hardly knew what I said, having not recovered my fright. Let me sit down, miss, any where, said I; for I have been sadly off. So I sat down, and was quite sick with the hurry of my spirits, and leaned upon her arm.

Said she, Your lord and master came in very moody; and when he had staid an hour, and you not come, he began to fret, and said, He did not expect so little complaisance from you. And he is now sat down, with great persuasion, to a game at loo.—Come, you must make your appearance, lady fair; for he is too sullen to attend you, I doubt.

You have no strangers, have you miss? said I.—Only two women relations from Stamford, replied she, and an humble servant of one of them.—Only all the world, miss! said I.—What shall I do, if he be angry? I can't bear that.

Just as I had said so, came in Lady Darnford and Lady Jones to chide me, as they said, for not coming sooner. And before I could speak, came in my dear master. I ran to him. How dy'e Pamela? said he; and saluting me, with a little more formality than I could well bear.—I expected half a word from me, when I was so complaisant to your choice, would have determined you, and that you'd have been here to dinner;—and the rather, as I made my request a reasonable one, and what I thought would be agreeable to you. O dear sir, said I, pray, pray, hear me, and you'll pity me, and not be displeased! Mrs. Jewkes will tell you, that as soon as I had your kind commands, I said, I would obey you, and come to dinner with these good ladies; and so prepared myself instantly, with all the pleasure in the world. Lady Darnford and miss said I was their dear!—Look you, said miss, did I not tell you, stately one, that something must have happened? But, O these tyrants! these men!

Why, what hindered it, my dear? said he: give yourself time; you seem out of breath!—O sir, said I, out of breath! well I may!—For, just as I was ready to come away, who should drive into the court-yard, but Lady Davers!—Lady Davers! Nay, then, my sweet dear, said he, and saluted me more tenderly, hast thou had a worse trial than I wish thee, from one of the haughtiest women in England, though my sister!—For, she too, my Pamela, was spoiled by my good mother!—But have you seen her?

Yes, sir, said I, and more than seen her!—Why sure, said he, she has not had the insolence to strike my girl!—Sir, said I, but tell me you forgive me; for indeed I could not come sooner; and these good ladies but excuse me; and I'll tell you all another time; for to take up the good company's attention now, will spoil their pleasantry, and be to them, though more important to me, like the broken china you cautioned me about.

That's a dear girl! said he; I see my hints are not thrown away upon you; and I beg pardon for being angry with you; and, for the future, will stay till I hear your defence, before I judge you. Said Miss Darnford, This is a little better! To own a fault is some reparation; and what every lordly husband will not do. He said, But tell me, my dear, did Lady Davers offer you any incivility? O sir, replied I, she is your sister, and I must not tell you all; but she has used me very severely! Did you tell her, said he, you were married? Yes, sir, I did at last; but she will have it 'tis a sham-marriage, and that I am a vile creature: and she was ready to beat me, when I said so: for she could not have patience, that I should be deemed her sister, as she said.

How unlucky it was, replied he, I was not at home?—Why did you not send to me here? Send, sir! I was kept prisoner by force. They would not let me stir, or do you think I would have been hindered from obeying you? Nay, I told them, that I had a pre-engagement; but she ridiculed me, and said, Waiting-maids talk of pre-engagements! And then I shewed her your kind letter; and she made a thousand remarks upon it, and made me wish I had not. In short, whatever I could do or say, there was no pleasing her; and I was a creature and wench, and all that was naught. But you must not be angry with her on my account.

Well, but, said he, I suppose she hardly asked you to dine with her; for she came before dinner, I presume, if it was soon after you had received my letter! No, sir, dine with my lady! no, indeed! Why, she would make me wait at table upon her, with her woman, because she would not expose herself and me before the men-servants; which you know, sir, was very good of her ladyship.

Well, said he, but did you wait upon her? Would you have had me, sir? said I.—Only, Pamela, replied he, if you did, and knew not what belonged to your character, as my wife, I shall be very angry with you. Sir, said I, I did not, but refused it, out of consideration to the dignity you have raised me to; else, sir, I could have waited on my knees upon your sister.

Now, said he, you confirm my opinion of your prudence and judgment. She is an insolent woman, and shall dearly repent it. But, sir, she is to be excused, because she won't believe I am indeed married; so don't be too angry at her ladyship.

He said, Ladies, pray don't let us keep you from the company; I'll only ask a question or two more, and attend you. Said Lady Jones, I so much long to hear this story of poor madam's persecution, that, if it was not improper, I should be glad to stay. Miss Darnford would stay for the same reason; my master saying, He had no secrets to ask; and that it was kind of them to interest themselves in my grievances.

But Lady Darnford went into the company, and told them the cause of my detention; for, it seems, my dear master loved me too well, to keep to himself the disappointment my not being here to receive him, was to him; and they had all given the two Misses Boroughs and Mr. Perry, the Stamford guests, such a character of me, that they said they were impatient to see me.

Said my master, But, Pamela, you said they and them: Who had my sister with her besides her woman? Her nephew, sir, and three footmen on horseback; and she and her woman were in her chariot and six.

That's a sad coxcomb, said he: How did he behave to you?—Not extraordinarily, sir; but I should not complain; for I was even with him; because I thought I ought not to bear with him as with my lady.

By Heaven! said he, if I knew he behaved unhandsomely to my jewel, I'd send him home to his uncle without his ears. Indeed, sir, returned I, I was as hard upon him as he was upon me. Said he, 'Tis kind to say so; but I believe I shall make them dearly repent their visit, if I find their behaviour to call for my resentment.

But, sure, my dear, you might have got away when you went to your own dinner? Indeed, sir, said I, her ladyship locked me in, and would not let me stir.—So you ha'nt ate any dinner? No, indeed, sir, nor had a stomach for any. My poor dear, said he. But then, how got you away at last? O sir, replied I, I jumped out of the parlour window, and ran away to the chariot, which had waited for me several hours, by the elm-walk, from the time of my lady's coming (for I was just going, as I said); and Mr. Colbrand conducted me through her servants, whom she called to, to stop me; and was so kind to step behind the chariot, unknown to me, and saw me safe here.

I'm sure, said he, these insolent creatures must have treated you vilely. But tell me, what part did Mrs. Jewkes act in this affair? A very kind part, sir, said I, in my behalf; and I shall thank her for it. Sweet creature! said he, thou lovest to speak well of every body; but I hope she deserves it; for she knew you were married.—But come, we'll now join the company, and try to forget all you have suffered, for two or three hours, that we may not tire the company with our concerns and resume the subject as we go home: and you shall find I will do you justice, as I ought. But you forgive me, sir, said I, and are not angry? Forgive you, my dear! returned he—I hope you forgive me! I shall never make you satisfaction for what you have suffered from me, and for me! And with those words he led me into the company.

He very kindly presented me to the two stranger ladies, and the gentleman, and them to me: and Sir Simon, who was at cards, rose from table, and saluted me: Adad! madam, said he, I'm glad to see you here. What, it seems you have been a prisoner! 'Twas well you was, or your spouse and I should have sat in judgment upon you, and condemned you to a fearful punishment for your first crime of laesae majestatis: (I had this explained to me afterwards, as a sort of treason against my liege lord and husband:) for we husbands hereabouts, said he, are resolved to turn over a new leaf with our wives, and your lord and master shall shew us the way, I can tell you that. But I see by your eyes, my sweet culprit, added he, and your complexion, you have had sour sauce to your sweet meat.

Miss Darnford said, I think we are obliged to our sweet guest, at last; for she was forced to jump out at a window to come to us. Indeed! said Mrs. Peters;—and my master's back being turned, says she, Lady Davers, when a maiden, was always vastly passionate; but a very good lady when her passion was over. And she'd make nothing of slapping her maids about, and begging their pardons afterwards, if they took it patiently; otherwise she used to say the creatures were even with her.

Ay, said I, I have been a many creatures and wenches, and I know not what; for these were the names she gave me. And I thought I ought to act up to the part her dear brother has given me; and so I have but just escaped a good cuffing.

Miss Boroughs said to her sister, as I overheard, but she did not design I should, What a sweet creature is this! and then she takes so little upon her, is so free, so easy, and owns the honour done her, so obligingly! said Mr. Perry, softly, The loveliest person I ever saw! Who could have the heart to be angry with her one moment?

Says Miss Darnford, Here, my dearest neighbour, these gentry are admiring you strangely; and Mr. Perry says, you are the loveliest lady he ever saw; and he says it to his own mistress's face too, I'll assure you!—Or else, says Miss Boroughs, I should think he much flattered me.

O, madam, you are exceedingly obliging! but your kind opinion ought to teach me humility, and to reverence so generous a worth as can give a preference against yourself, where it is so little due. Indeed, madam, said Miss Nanny Boroughs, I love my sister well; but it would be a high compliment to any lady, to be deemed worthy a second or third place after you.

There is no answering such politeness, said I: I am sure Lady Davers was very cruel to keep me from such company. 'Twas our loss, madam, says Miss Darnford. I'll allow it, said I, in degree; for you have all been deprived, several hours, of an humble admirer.

Mr. Perry said, I never before saw so young a lady shine forth with such graces of mind and person. Alas! sir, said I, my master coming up, mine is but a borrowed shine, like that of the moon. Here is the sun, to whose fervent glow of generosity I owe all the faint lustre, that your goodness is pleased to look upon with so much kind distinction.

Mr. Perry was pleased to hold up his hands; and the ladies looked upon one another. And my master said, hearing part of the last sentence, What's the pretty subject, that my Pamela is displaying so sweetly her talents upon?

Oh! sir, said Mr. Perry, I will pronounce you the happiest man in England: and so said they all.

My master said, most generously, Thank ye, thank ye, thank ye, all round, my dear friends. I know not your subject; but if you believe me so, for a single instance of this dear girl's goodness, what must I think myself, when blessed with a thousand instances, and experiencing it in every single act and word! I do assure you my Pamela's person, all lovely as you see it, is far short of her mind: That, indeed, first attracted my admiration, and made me her lover: but they were the beauties of her mind, that made me her husband; and proud, my sweet dear, said he, pressing my hand, am I of that title.

Well, said Mr. Perry, very kindly and politely, excellent as your lady is, I know not the gentleman that could deserve her, but that one who could say such just and such fine things.

I was all abashed; and took Miss Darnford's hand, and said, Save me, dear miss, by your sweet example, from my rising pride. But could I deserve half these kind things, what a happy creature should I be! said Miss Darnford, You deserve them all, indeed you do.

The greatest part of the company having sat down to loo, my master being pressed, said he would take one game at whist; but had rather be excused too, having been up all night: and I asked how his friend did? We'll talk of that, said he, another time; which, and his seriousness, made me fear the poor gentleman was dead, as it proved.

We cast in, and Miss Boroughs and my master were together, and Mr. Perry and I; and I had all four honours the first time, and we were up at one deal. Said my master, An honourable hand, Pamela, should go with an honourable heart; but you'd not have been up, if a knave had not been one. Whist, sir, said Mr. Perry, you know, was a court game originally; and the knave, I suppose, signified always the prime minister.

'Tis well, said my master, if now there is but one knave in a court, out of four persons, take the court through.

The king and queen, sir, said Mr. Perry, can do no wrong, you know. So there are two that must be good out of four; and the ace seems too plain a card to mean much hurt.

We compliment the king, said my master, in that manner; and 'tis well to do so, because there is something sacred in the character. But yet, if force of example be considered, it is going a great way; for certainly a good master makes a good servant, generally speaking.

One thing, added he, I will say, in regard to the ace: I have always looked upon that plain and honest looking card in the light you do: and have considered whist as an English game in its original; which has made me fonder of it than of any other. For by the ace I have always thought the laws of the land denoted; and as the ace is above the king or queen, and wins them, I think the law should be thought so too; though, may be, I shall be deemed a Whig for my opinion.

I shall never play whist, said Mr. Perry, without thinking of this, and shall love the game the better for the thought; though I am no party-man. Nor I, said my master; for I think the distinctions of whig and tory odious; and love the one or the other only as they are honest and worthy men; and have never (nor never shall, hope) given a vote, but according to what I thought was for the public good, let either whig or tory propose it.

I wish, sir, replied Mr. Perry, all gentlemen in your station would act so. If there was no undue influence, said my master, I am willing to think so well of all mankind, that I believe they generally would.

But you see, said he, by my Pamela's hand, when all the court-cards get together, and are acted by one mind, the game is usually turned accordingly: Though now and then, too, it may be so circumstanced, that honours will do them no good, and they are forced to depend altogether upon tricks.

I thought this way of talking prettier than the game itself. But I said, Though I have won the game, I hope I am no trickster. No, said my master, God forbid but court-cards should sometimes win with honour! But you see, for all that, your game is as much owing to the knave as the king; and you, my fair-one, lost no advantage, when it was put into your power.

Else, sir, said I, I should not have done justice to my partner. You are certainly right, Pamela, replied he; though you thereby beat your husband. Sir, said I, you may be my partner next, and I must do justice, you know. Well, said he, always choose so worthy a friend, as chance has given you for a partner, and I shall never find fault with you, do what you will.

Mr. Perry said, You are very good to me, sir; and Miss Boroughs, I observed, seemed pleased with the compliment to her humble servant; by which I saw she esteemed him, as he appears to deserve. Dear sir! said I, how much better is this, than to be locked in by Lady Davers!

The supper was brought in sooner on my account, because I had had no dinner; and there passed very agreeable compliments on the occasion. Lady Darnford would help me first, because I had so long fasted, as she said. Sir Simon would have placed himself next me: And my master said, He thought it was best, where there was an equal number of ladies and gentlemen, that they should sit, intermingled, that the gentlemen might be employed in helping and serving the ladies. Lady Darnford said, She hoped Sir Simon would not sit above any ladies at his own table especially. Well, said he, I shall sit over-against her, however, and that's as well.

My dearest sir could not keep his eyes off me, and seemed generously delighted with all I did, and all I said; and every one was pleased to see his kind and affectionate behaviour to me.

Lady Jones brought up the discourse about Lady Davers again; and my master said, I fear, Pamela, you have been hardly used, more than you'll say. I know my sister's passionate temper too well, to believe she could be over-civil to you, especially as it happened so unluckily that I was out. If, added he, she had no pique to you, my dear, yet what has passed between her and me, has so exasperated her, that I know she would have quarrelled with my horse, if she had thought I valued it, and nobody else was in her way. Dear sir, said I, don't say so of good Lady Davers.

Why, my dear, said he, I know she came on purpose to quarrel; and had she not found herself under a very violent uneasiness, after what had passed between us, and my treatment of her lord's letter, she would not have offered to come near me. What sort of language had she for me, Pamela? O sir, very good, only her well-mannered brother, and such as that!

Only, said he, 'tis taking up the attention of the company disagreeably, or I could tell you almost every word she said. Lady Jones wished to hear a further account of my lady's conduct, and most of the company joined with her, particularly Mrs. Peters; who said, that as they knew the story, and Lady Davers's temper, though she was very good in the main, they could wish to be so agreeably entertained, if he and I pleased; because they imagined I should have no difficulties after this.

Tell me, then, Pamela, said he, did she lift up her hand at you? Did she strike you? But I hope not! A little slap of the hand, said I, or so.—Insolent woman! She did not, I hope, offer to strike your face? Why, said I, I was a little saucy once or twice; and she would have given me a cuff on the ear, if her woman and Mrs. Jewkes had not interposed. Why did you not come out at the door? Because, said I, her ladyship sat in the chair against it, one while, and another while locked it; else I offered several times to get away.

She knew I expected you here: You say, you shewed her my letter to you? Yes, sir, said I; but I had better not; for she as then more exasperated, and made strange comments upon it. I doubt it not, said he; but, did she not see, by the kind epithets in it, that there was no room to doubt of our being married? O, sir, replied I, and made the company smile, she said, For that very reason she was sure I was not married.

That's like my sister! said he; exactly like her; and yet she lives very happily herself: for her poor lord never contradicts her. Indeed he dares not.

You were a great many wenches, were you not, my dear? for that's a great word with her.—Yes, sir, said I, wenches and creatures out of number; and worse than all that. What? tell me, my dear. Sir, said I, I must not have you angry with Lady Davers; while you are so good to me, 'tis all nothing; only the trouble I have that I cannot be suffered to shew how much I honoured her ladyship, as your sister.

Well, said he, you need not be afraid to tell me: I must love her after all; though I shall not be pleased with her on this occasion. I know it is her love for me, though thus oddly expressed, that makes her so uneasy: and, after all, she comes, I'm sure, to be reconciled to me; though it must be through a good hearty quarrel first: for she can shew a good deal of sunshine; but it must be always after a storm; and I'll love her dearly, if she has not been, and will not be, too hard upon my dearest.

Mr. Peters said, Sir, you are very good, and very kind; I love to see this complaisance to your sister, though she be in fault, so long as you can shew it with so much justice to the sweetest innocence and merit in the world. By all that's good, Mr. Peters, said he, I'd present my sister with a thousand pounds, if she would kindly take my dear Pamela by the hand, and wish her joy, and call her sister!—And yet I should be unworthy of the dear creature that smiles upon me there, if it was not principally for her sake, and the pleasure it would give her, that I say this: for I will never be thoroughly reconciled to my sister till she does; for I most sincerely think, as to myself, that my dear wife, there she sits, does me more honour in her new relation, than she receives from me.

Sir, said I, I am overwhelmed with your goodness!—And my eyes were filled with tears of joy and gratitude: and all the company with one voice blessed him. And Lady Jones was pleased to say, The behaviour of you two happy ones, to each other, is the most edifying I ever knew. I am always improved when I see you. How happy would every good lady be with such a gentleman, and every good gentleman with such a lady!—In short, you seem made for one another.

O madam, said I, you are so kind, so good to me, that I know not how to thank you enough!—Said she, You deserve more than I can express; for, to all that know your story, you are a matchless person. You are an ornament to our sex and your virtue, though Mr. B—— is so generous as he is, has met with no more than its due reward. God long bless you together!

You are, said my dearest sir, very good to me, madam, I am sure. I have taken liberties in my former life, that deserved not so much excellence. I have offended extremely, by trials glorious to my Pamela, but disgraceful to me, against a virtue that I now consider as almost sacred; and I shall not think I deserve her, till I can bring my manners, my sentiments, and my actions, to a conformity with her own. In short, my Pamela, continued he, I want you to be nothing but what you are, and have been. You cannot be better; and if you could, it would be but filling me with despair to attain the awful heights of virtue at which you have arrived. Perhaps, added the dear gentleman, the scene I have beheld within these twelve hours, has made me more serious than otherwise I should have been: but I'll assure you, before all this good company, I speak the sentiments of my heart, and those not of this day only.

What a happy daughter is yours, O my dear father and mother! I owe it all to God's grace, and to yours and my good lady's instructions: And to these let me always look back with grateful acknowledgments, that I may not impute to myself, and be proud, my inexpressible happiness.

The company were so kindly pleased with our concern, and my dear master's goodness, that he, observing their indulgence, and being himself curious to know the further particulars of what had passed between my lady and me, repeated his question, What she had called me besides wench and creature? And I said, My lady, supposing I was wicked, lamented over me, very kindly, my depravity and fall, and said, What a thousand pities it was, so much virtue, as she was pleased to say, was so destroyed; and that I had yielded, after so noble a stand! as she said.

Excuse me, gentlemen and ladies, said I! you know my story, it seems; and I am commanded, by one who has a title to all my obedience, to proceed.

They gave all of them bows of approbation, that they might not interrupt me; and I continued my story—the men-servants withdrawing, at a motion of Mr. B——, on my looking towards them: and then, at Lady Darnford's coming in, I proceeded.

I told her ladyship, that I was still innocent, and would be so, and it was injurious to suppose me otherwise. Why, tell me, wench, said she—But I think I must not tell you what she said. Yes, do, said my master, to clear my sister; we shall think it very bad else.

I held my hand before my face—Why, she said, Tell me, wench, hast thou not been—hesitating—a very free creature with thy master? That she said, or to that effect—And when I said, She asked strange questions, and in strange words, she ridiculed my delicacy, as she called it; and said, My niceness would not last long. She said, I must know I was not really married, that my ring was only a sham, and all was my cunning to cloak my yielding, and get better terms. She said, She knew the world as much at thirty-two, as I did at sixteen; and bid me remember that.

I took the liberty to say, (but I got a good way off,) that I scorned her ladyship's words, and was as much married as her ladyship. And then I had certainly been cuffed, if her woman had not interposed, and told her I was not worthy her anger; and that I was as much to be pitied for my credulity, as despised for my vanity.

My poor Pamela, said my master, this was too, too hard upon you! O sir, said I, how much easier it was to me than if it had been so!—That would have broken my heart quite!—For then I should have deserved it all, and worse; and these reproaches, added to my own guilt, would have made me truly wretched!

Lady Darnford, at whose right-hand I sat, kissed me with a kind of rapture, and called me a sweet exemplar for all my sex. Mr. Peters said very handsome things; so did Mr. Perry and Sir Simon, with tears in his eyes, said to my master, Why, neighbour, neighbour, this is excellent, by my troth. I believe there is something in virtue, that we had not well considered. On my soul, there has been but one angel come down for these thousand years, and you have got her.

Well, my dearest, said my master, pray proceed with your story until, we have done supper, since the ladies seem pleased with it. Why, sir, said I, her ladyship went on in the same manner; but said, one time, (and held me by the hand,) she would give me an hundred guineas for one provoking word; or, if I would but say I believed myself married, that she might fell me at her foot: But, sir, you must not be angry with her ladyship. She called me painted dirt, baby-face, waiting-maid, beggar's brat, and beggar-born; but I said, As long as I knew my innocence, I was easy in every thing, but to have my dear parents abused. They were never beggars, nor beholden to any body; nor to any thing but God's grace and their own labour; that they once lived in credit; that misfortunes might befall any body; and that I could not bear they should be treated so undeservedly.

Then her ladyship said, Ay, she supposed my master's folly would make us set up for a family, and that the heralds' office would shortly be searched to make it out.

Exactly my sister again! said he. So you could not please her any way?

No, indeed, sir. When she commanded me to fill her a glass of wine, and would not let her woman do it, she asked, If I was above it? I then said, If to attend your ladyship at table, or even kneel at your feet, was required of me, I would most gladly do it, were I only the person you think me. But if it be to triumph over one, who has received honours which she thinks require from her another part, that she may not be utterly unworthy of them, I must say, I cannot do it. This quite astonished her ladyship; and a little before, her kinsman brought me the bottle and glass, and required me to fill it for my lady, at her command, and called himself my deputy: And I said, 'Tis in a good hand; help my lady yourself. So, sir, added I, you see I could be a little saucy upon occasion.

You please me well, my Pamela, said he. This was quite right. But proceed.

Her ladyship said, She was astonished! adding, She supposed I would have her look upon me as her brother's wife: And asked me, What, in the name of impudence, possessed me, to dare to look upon myself as her sister? And I said, That was a question better became her most worthy brother to answer, than me. And then I thought I should have had her ladyship upon me; but her woman interposed.

I afterwards told Mrs. Jewkes, at the window, that since I was hindered from going to you, I believed it was best to let Robert go with the chariot, and say, Lady Davers was come, and I could not leave her ladyship. But this did not please; and I thought it would too; for she said, No, no, he'll think I make the creature my companion, and know not how to part with her.

Exactly, said he, my sister again.

And she said, I knew nothing what belonged to people of condition; how should I?—What shall I say, madam? said I. Nothing at all, answered she; let him expect his dearest love, alluding to your kind epithet in your letter, and be disappointed; it is but adding a few more hours to this heavy absence, and every one will become a day in his amorous account.

So, to be short, I saw nothing was to be done; and I feared, sir, you would wonder at my stay, and be angry; and I watched my opportunity, till my lady, who was walking about the room, was at the further end; and the parlour being a ground-floor, in a manner, I jumped out at the window, and ran for it.

Her ladyship called after me; so did her woman; and I heard her say, I flew like a bird; and she called two of her servants in sight to stop me; but I said, Touch me at your peril, fellows! And Mr. Colbrand, having been planted at hand by Mrs. Jewkes, (who was very good in the whole affair, and incurred her ladyship's displeasure, once or twice, by taking my part,) seeing how I was used, put on a fierce look, cocked his hat with one hand, and put t'other on his sword, and said, he would chine the man who offered to touch his lady. And so he ran alongside of me, and could hardly keep pace with me:—And here, my dear sir, concluded I, I am, at yours and the good company's service.

They seemed highly pleased with my relation; and my master said, he was glad Mrs. Jewkes behaved so well, as also Mr. Colbrand. Yes, sir, said I: when Mrs. Jewkes interposed once, her ladyship said, It was hard, she, who was born in that house, could not have some privilege in it, without being talked to by the saucy servants. And she called her another time fat-face, and womaned her most violently.

Well, said my master, I am glad, my dear, you have had such an escape. My sister was always passionate, as Mrs. Peters knows: And my poor mother had enough to do with us both. For we neither of us wanted spirit: and when I was a boy, I never came home from school or college for a few days, but though we longed to see one another before, yet ere the first day was over, we had a quarrel; for she, being seven years older than I, was always for domineering over me, and I could not bear it. And I used, on her frequently quarrelling with the maids, and being always at a word and a blow, to call her Captain Bab; for her name is Barbara. And when my Lord Davers courted her, my poor mother has made up quarrels between them three times in a day; and I used to tell her, she would certainly beat her husband, marry whom she would, if he did not beat her first, and break her spirit.

Yet has she, continued he, very good qualities. She was a dutiful daughter, is a good wife; she is bountiful to her servants, firm in her friendships, charitable to the poor, and, I believe, never any sister better loved a brother, than she me: and yet she always loved to vex and tease me; and as I would bear a resentment longer than she, she'd be one moment the most provoking creature in the world, and the next would do any thing to be forgiven; and I have made her, when she was the aggressor, follow me all over the house and garden to be upon good terms with me.

But this case piques her more, because she had found out a match for me in the family of a person of quality, and had set her heart upon bringing it to effect, and had even proceeded far in it, without my knowledge, and brought me into the lady's company, unknowing of her design. But I was then averse to matrimony upon any terms; and was angry at her proceeding in it so far without my privity or encouragement: And she cannot, for this reason, bear the thoughts of my being now married, and to her mother's waiting-maid too, as she reminds my dear Pamela, when I had declined her proposal with the daughter of a noble earl.

This is the whole case, said he; and, allowing for the pride and violence of her spirit, and that she knows not, as I do, the transcendent excellencies of my dear Pamela, and that all her view, in her own conception, is mine and the family honour, she is a little to be allowed for: Though, never fear, my Pamela, but that I, who never had a struggle with her, wherein I did not get the better, will do you justice, and myself too.

This account of Lady Davers pleased every body, and was far from being to her ladyship's disadvantage in the main; and I would do any thing in the world to have the honour to be in her good graces: Yet I fear it will not be easily, if at all, effected. But I will proceed.

After supper, nothing would serve Miss Darnford and Miss Boroughs, but we must have a dance; and Mr. Peters, who plays a good fiddle, urged it forward. My dear master, though in a riding-dress, took out Miss Boroughs.

Sir Simon, for a man of his years, danced well, and took me out; but put on one of his free jokes, that I was fitter to dance with a younger man; and he would have it, (though I had not danced since my dear lady's death to signify, except once or twice to please Mrs. Jervis, and, indeed, believed all my dancing days over,) that as my master and I were the best dancers, we should dance once together, before folks, as the odd gentleman said; and my dear sir was pleased to oblige him: And afterwards danced with Miss Darnford, who has much more skill and judgment than I; though they compliment me with an easier shape and air.

We left the company with great difficulty at about eleven, my dear master having been up all night before, and we being at the greatest distance from home; though they seemed inclinable not to break up so soon, as they were neighbours; and the ladies said, They longed to hear what would be the end of Lady Davers's interview with her brother.

My master said, He feared we must not now think of going next day to Bedfordshire, as we had intended; and perhaps might see them again. And so we took leave, and set out for home; where we arrived not till twelve o'clock; and found Lady Davers had gone to bed about eleven, wanting sadly that we should come home first; but so did not I.

Mrs. Jewkes told us, That my lady was sadly fretted that I had got away so; and seemed a little apprehensive of what I would say of the usage I had received from her. She asked Mrs. Jewkes, if she thought I was really married? And Mrs. Jewkes telling her yes, she fell into a passion, and said, Begone, bold woman, I cannot bear thee! See not my face till I send for thee! Thou hast been very impudent to me once or twice to-day already, and art now worse than ever. She said, She would not have told her ladyship, if she had not asked her; and was sorry she had offended.

She sent for her at supper time: Said she, I have another question to ask thee, woman, and tell me yes, if thou darest. Was ever any thing so odd?—Why then, said Mrs. Jewkes, I will say No, before your ladyship speaks.—My master laughed: Poor woman! said he.—She called her insolent, and assurance; and said, Begone, bold woman as thou art!—but come hither. Dost thou know if that young harlot is to be with my brother to-night?

She said she knew not what to answer, because she had threatened her if she said yes. But at last my lady said, I will know the bottom of this iniquity. I suppose they won't have so much impudence to be together while I'm in the house; but I dare say they have been bed-fellows.

Said she, I will lie to-night in the room I was born in; so get that bed ready. That room being our bedchamber, Mrs. Jewkes, after some hesitation, replied, Madam, my master lies there, and has the key. I believe, woman, said she, thou tellest me a story. Indeed, madam, said she, he does; and has some papers there he will let nobody see; for Mrs. Jewkes said, she feared she would beat her if she went up, and found by my clothes, and some of my master's, how it was.

So she said, I will then lie in the best room, as it is called; and Jackey shall lie in the little green room adjoining to it. Has thy master got the keys of those?—No, madam, said Mrs. Jewkes: I will order them to be made ready for your ladyship.

And where dost thou lay the pursy sides? said she. Up two pair of stairs, madam, next the garden. And where lies the young harlotry? continued she. Sometimes with me, madam, said she. And sometimes with thy virtuous master, I suppose? said my lady.—Ha, woman! what sayest thou? I must not speak, said Mrs. Jewkes. Well, thou mayest go, said she; but thou hast the air of a secret keeper of that sort I dare say thoul't set the good work forward most cordially. Poor Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, and laughed most heartily.

This talk we had whilst we were undressing. So she and her woman lay together in the room my master lay in before I was happy.

I said, Dear sir, pray, in the morning let me lock myself up in the closet, as soon as you rise; and not be called down for ever so much; for I am afraid to see her ladyship: And I will employ myself about my journal, while these things are in my head. Don't be afraid, my dear, said he: Am not I with you?

Mrs. Jewkes pitied me for what I had undergone in the day; and I said, We won't make the worst of it to my dear master, because we won't exasperate where we would reconcile: but, added I, I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Jewkes, and I thank you. Said my master, I hope she did not beat your lady, Mrs. Jewkes? Not much, sir, said she; but I believe I saved my lady once: Yet, added she, I was most vexed at the young lord. Ay, Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, let me know his behaviour. I can chastise him, though I cannot my sister, who is a woman; let me therefore know the part he acted.

Nothing, my dear sir, said I, but impertinence, if I may so say, and foolishness, that was very provoking; but I spared him not; and so there is no room, sir, for your anger. No, sir, said Mrs. Jewkes, nothing else indeed.

How was her woman? said my master. Pretty impertinent, replied Mrs. Jewkes, as ladies' women will be. But, said I, you know she saved me once or twice. Very true, madam, returned Mrs. Jewkes. And she said to me at table, that you were a sweet creature; she never saw your equal; but that you had a spirit; and she was sorry you answered her lady so, who never bore so much contradiction before. I told her, added Mrs. Jewkes, that if I was in your ladyship's place, I should have taken much more upon me, and that you were all sweetness. And she said, I was got over, she saw.

Tuesday morning, the sixth of my happiness.

My master had said to Mrs. Jewkes, that he should not rise till eight or nine, as he had sat up all the night before: but it seems, my lady, knowing he usually rose about six, got up soon after that hour; raised her woman and her nephew; having a whimsical scheme in her head, to try to find whether we were in bed together: And, about half an hour after six, she rapped at our chamber door.

My master was waked at the noise, and asked, Who was there? Open the door, said she; open it this minute! I said, clinging about his neck, Dear, dear sir, pray, pray don't!—O save me, save me! Don't fear, Pamela, said he. The woman's mad, I believe.

But he called out; Who are you? What do you want?—You know my voice well enough, said she:—I will come in.—Pray, sir, said I, don't let her ladyship in.—Don't be frightened, my dear, said he; she thinks we are not married, and are afraid to be found a-bed together. I'll let her in; but she shan't come near my dearest.

So he slipt out of bed, and putting on some of his clothes, and gown and slippers, he said, What bold body dare disturb my repose thus? and opened the door. In rushed she: I'll see your wickedness, said she, I will! In vain shall you think to hide it from me.—What should I hide? said he. How dare you set a foot into my house, after the usage I have received from you?—I had covered myself over head and ears, and trembled every joint. He looked, and 'spied her woman and kinsman in the room, she crying out, Bear witness, Jackey; bear witness, Beck; the creature is now in his bed! And not seeing the young gentleman before, who was at the feet of the bed, he said, How now, sir? What's your business in this apartment? Begone this moment!—And he went away directly.

Beck, said my lady, you see the creature is in his bed. I do, madam, answered she. My master came to me, and said, Ay, look, Beck, and bear witness: Here is my Pamela!—My dear angel, my lovely creature, don't be afraid; look up, and see how frantickly this woman of quality behaves.

At that, I just peeped, and saw my lady, who could not bear this, coming to me; and she said, Wicked abandoned wretch! Vile brother, to brave me thus! I'll tear the creature out of bed before your face, and expose you both as you deserve.

At that he took her in his arms, as if she had been nothing; and carrying her out of the room, she cried out, Beck! Beck! help me, Beck! the wretch is going to fling me down stairs! Her woman ran to him, and said, Good sir, for Heaven's sake do no violence to my lady! Her ladyship has been ill all night.

He sat her down in the chamber she lay in, and she could not speak for passion. Take care of your lady, said he; and when she has rendered herself more worthy of my attention, I'll see her; till then, at her peril, and yours too, come not near my apartment. And so he came to me, and, with all the sweet soothing words in the world, pacified my fears, and gave me leave to go to write in my closet, as soon as my fright was over, and to stay there till things were more calm. And so he dressed himself, and went out of the chamber, permitting me, at my desire, to fasten the door after him.

At breakfast-time my master tapped at the door, and I said, Who's there? I, my dearest, said he. Oh! then, replied I, I will open it with pleasure. I had written on a good deal; but I put it by, when I ran to the door. I would have locked it again, when he was in; but he said, Am not I here? Don't be afraid. Said he, Will you come down to breakfast, my love? O no, dear sir, said I; be pleased to excuse me! said he, I cannot bear the look of it, that the mistress of my house should breakfast in her closet, as if she durst not come down, and I at home!—O, dearest sir, replied I, pray pass that over, for my sake; and don't let my presence aggravate your sister, for a kind punctilio! Then, my dear, said he, I will breakfast with you here. No, pray, dear sir, answered I, breakfast with your sister. That, my dear, replied he, will too much gratify her pride, and look like a slight to you.—Dear sir, said I, your goodness is too great, for me to want punctilious proofs of it. Pray oblige her ladyship. She is your guest surely, sir, you may be freest with your dutiful wife!

She is a strange woman, said he: How I pity her!—She has thrown herself into a violent fit of the colic, through passion: And is but now, her woman says, a little easier. I hope, sir, said I, when you carried her ladyship out, you did not hurt her. No, replied he, I love her too well. I set her down in the apartment she had chosen: and she but now desires to see me, and that I will breakfast with her, or refuses to touch any thing. But, if my dearest please, I will insist it shall be with you at the same time.

O, no, no, dear sir! said I; I should not forgive myself, if I did. I would on my knees beg her ladyship's goodness to me, now I am in your presence; though I thought I ought to carry it a little stiff when you were absent, for the sake of the honour you have done me. And, dear sir, if my deepest humility will please, permit me to shew it.

You shall do nothing, returned he, unworthy of my wife, to please the proud woman!—But I will, however, permit you to breakfast by yourself this once, as I have not seen her since I have used her in so barbarous a manner, as I understand she exclaims I have; and as she will not eat any thing, unless I give her my company.—So he saluted me, and withdrew; and I locked the door after him again for fear.

Mrs. Jewkes soon after rapped at the door. Who's there? said I. Only I, madam. So I opened the door. 'Tis a sad thing, madam, said she, you should be so much afraid in your own house. She brought me some chocolate and toast; and I asked her about my lady's behaviour. She said, she would not suffer any body to attend but her woman, because she would not be heard what she had to say; but she believed, she said, her master was very angry with the young lord, as she called her kinsman; for, as she passed by the door, she heard him say, in a high tone, I hope, sir, you did not forget what belongs to the character you assume; or to that effect.

About one o'clock my master came up again, and he said, Will you come down to dinner, Pamela, when I send for you? Whatever you command, sir, I must do. But my lady won't desire to see me. No matter whether she will or no. But I will not suffer, that she shall prescribe her insolent will to my wife, and in your own house too.—I will, by my tenderness to you, mortify her pride; and it cannot be done so well as to her face.

Dearest sir, said I, pray indulge me, and let me dine here by myself. It will make my lady but more inveterate.—Said he, I have told her we are married. She is out of all patience about it, and yet pretends not to believe it. Upon that I tell her, Then she shall have it her own way, and that I am not. And what has she to do with it either way? She has scolded and begged, commanded and prayed, blessed me, and cursed me, by turns, twenty times in these few hours. And I have sometimes soothed her, sometimes raged; and at last left her, and took a turn in the garden for an hour to compose myself, because you should not see how the foolish woman has ruffled me; and just now I came out, seeing her coming in.

Just as he had said so, I cried, Oh! my lady, my lady! for I heard her voice in the chamber, saying, Brother, brother, one word with you—stopping in sight of the closet where I was. He stepped out, and she went up to the window that looks towards the garden, and said, Mean fool that I am, to follow you up and down the house in this manner, though I am shunned and avoided by you! You a brother!—You a barbarian! Is it possible we could be born of one mother?

Why, said he, do you charge me with a conduct to you, that you bring upon yourself?—Is it not surprising that you should take the liberty with me, that the dear mother you have named never gave you an example for to any of her relations?—Was it not sufficient, that I was insolently taken to task by you in your letters, but my retirements must be invaded? My house insulted? And, if I have one person dearer to me than another, that that person must be singled out for an object of your violence?

Ay, said she, that one person is the thing!—But though I came with a resolution to be temperate, and to expostulate with you on your avoiding me so unkindly, yet cannot I have patience to look upon that bed in which I was born, and to be made the guilty scene of your wickedness with such a——

Hush! said he, I charge you! call not the dear girl by any name unworthy of her. You know not, as I told you, her excellence; and I desire you'll not repeat the freedoms you have taken below.

She stamped with her foot, and said, God give me patience! So much contempt to a sister that loves you so well; and so much tenderness to a vile——