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.