But, besides, how do these gentry know, that, supposing they could trace back their ancestry9 for one, two, three, or even five hundred years, that then the original stems of these poor families, though they have not kept such elaborate records of their good-for nothingness, as it often proves, were not still deeper rooted?—And how can they be assured, that one hundred years hence, or two, some of those now despised upstart families may not revel10 in their estates, while their descendants may be reduced to the others' dunghills!—And, perhaps, such is the vanity, as well as changeableness, of human estates, in their turns set up for pride of family, and despise the others!
These reflections occurred to my thoughts, made serious by my master's indisposition, and this proud letter of the lowly Lady Davers, against the high-minded Pamela. Lowly, I say, because she could stoop to such vain pride; and high-minded I, because I hope I am too proud ever to do the like!—But, after all, poor wretches12 that we be! we scarce know what we are, much less what we shall be!—But, once more pray I to be kept from the sinful pride of a high estate.
On this occasion I recall the following lines, which I have read; where the poet argues in a much better manner:—
“——————Wise Providence13
The meanest slaves, or those who hedge and ditch,
Are useful, by their sweat, to feed the rich.
The rich, in due return, impart their store;
Which comfortably feeds the lab'ring poor.
He's equally a link of Nature's chain:
Labours to the same end, joins in one view;
And both alike the will divine pursue;
And, at the last, are levell'd, king and slave,
Without distinction, in the silent grave.”
Wednesday morning.
My master sent me a message just now, that he was so much better, that he would take a turn, after breakfast, in the chariot, and would have me give him my company. I hope I shall know how to be humble, and comport16 myself as I should do, under all these favours.
Mrs. Jewkes is one of the most obliging creatures in the world; and I have such respects shewn me by every one, as if I was as great as Lady Davers—But now, if this should all end in the sham-marriage!—It cannot be, I hope. Yet the pride of greatness and ancestry, and such-like, is so strongly set out in Lady Davers's letter, that I cannot flatter myself to be so happy as all these desirable appearances make for me. Should I be now deceived, I should be worse off than ever. But I shall see what light this new honour will procure17 me!—So I'll get ready. But I won't, I think, change my garb18. Should I do it, it would look as if I would be nearer on a level with him: and yet, should I not, it might be thought a disgrace to him: but I will, I think, open the portmanteau, and, for the first time since I came hither, put on my best silk nightgown. But then that will be making myself a sort of right to the clothes I had renounced19; and I am not yet quite sure I shall have no other crosses to encounter. So I will go as I am; for, though ordinary, I am as clean as a penny, though I say it. So I'll e'en go as I am, except he orders otherwise. Yet Mrs. Jewkes says, I ought to dress as fine as I can.—But I say, I think not. As my master is up, and at breakfast, I will venture down to ask him how he will have me be.
Well, he is kinder and kinder, and, thank God, purely21 recovered!—How charmingly he looks, to what he did yesterday! Blessed be God for it!
He arose, and came to me, and took me by the hand, and would set me down by him; and he said, My charming girl seemed going to speak. What would you say?—Sir, said I, (a little ashamed,) I think it is too great an honour to go into the chariot with you. No, my dear Pamela, said he; the pleasure of your company will be greater than the honour of mine; and so say no more on that head.
But, sir, said I, I shall disgrace you to go thus. You would grace a prince, my fair-one, said the good, kind, kind gentleman! in that dress, or any you shall choose: And you look so pretty, that, if you shall not catch cold in that round-eared cap, you shall go just as you are. But, sir, said I, then you'll be pleased to go a bye-way, that it mayn't be seen you do so much honor to your servant. O my good girl! said he, I doubt you are afraid of yourself being talked of, more than me: for I hope by degrees to take off the world's wonder, and teach them to expect what is to follow, as a due to my Pamela.
O the dear good man! There's for you, my dear father and mother!—Did I not do well now to come back?—O could I get rid of my fears of this sham-marriage, (for all this is not yet inconsistent with that frightful22 scheme,) I should be too happy!
So I came up, with great pleasure, for my gloves: and now wait his kind commands. Dear, dear sir! said I to myself, as if I was speaking to him, for God's sake let me have no more trials and reverses; for I could not bear it now, I verily think!
At last the welcome message came, that my master was ready; and so I went down as fast as I could; and he, before all the servants, handed me in, as if I was a lady; and then came in himself. Mrs. Jewkes begged he would take care he did not catch cold, as he had been ill. And I had the pride to hear his new coachman say, to one of his fellow-servants, They are a charming pair, I am sure! 'tis pity they should be parted!—O my dear father and mother! I fear your girl will grow as proud as any thing! And, especially, you will think I have reason to guard against it, when you read the kind particulars I am going to relate.
He ordered dinner to be ready by two; and Abraham, who succeeds John, went behind the coach. He bid Robin23 drive gently, and told me, he wanted to talk to me about his sister Davers, and other matters. Indeed, at first setting out he kissed me a little too often, that he did; and I was afraid of Robin's looking back, through the fore-glass, and people seeing us, as they passed; but he was exceedingly kind to me, in his words, as well. At last, he said,
You have, I doubt not, read, over and over, my sister's saucy24 letter; and find, as I told you, that you are no more obliged to her than I am. You see she intimates, that some people had been with her; and who should they be, but the officious Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman, and Jonathan! and so that has made me take the measures I did in dismissing them my service.—I see, said he, you are going to speak on their behalfs; but your time is not come to do that, if ever I shall permit it.
My sister, says he, I have been beforehand with; for I have renounced her. I am sure I have been a kind brother to her; and gave her to the value of 3000L. more than her share came to by my father's will, when I entered upon my estate. And the woman, surely, was beside herself with passion and insolence25, when she wrote me such a letter; for well she knew I would not bear it. But you must know, Pamela, that she is much incensed26, that I will give no ear to a proposal of hers, of a daughter of my Lord ——, who, said he, neither in person, or mind, or acquirements, even with all her opportunities, is to be named in a day with my Pamela. But yet you see the plea, my girl, which I made to you before, of the pride of condition, and the world's censure27, which, I own, sticks a little too close with me still: for a woman shines not forth28 to the public as man; and the world sees not your excellencies and perfections: If it did, I should entirely29 stand acquitted30 by the severest censures31. But it will be taken in the lump; that here is Mr. B——, with such and such an estate, has married his mother's waiting-maid: not considering there is not a lady in the kingdom that can out-do her, or better support the condition to which she will be raised, if I should marry her. And, said he, putting his arm round me, and again kissing me, I pity my dear girl too, for her part in this censure; for, here will she have to combat the pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us. Sister Davers, you see, will never be reconciled to you. The other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with a merit superior to them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice. Should I now marry my Pamela, how will my girl relish33 all this? Won't these be cutting things to my fair-one? For, as to me, I shall have nothing to do, but, with a good estate in possession, to brazen34 out the matter of my former pleasantry on this subject, with my companions of the chase, the green, and the assemblee; stand their rude jests for once or twice, and my fortune will create me always respect enough, I warrant you. But, I say, what will my poor girl do, as to her part, with her own sex? For some company you must keep. My station will not admit it to be with my servants; and the ladies will fly your acquaintance; and still, though my wife, will treat you as my mother's waiting-maid.—What says my girl to this?
You may well guess, my dear father and mother, how transporting these kind, these generous and condescending35 sentiments were to me!—I thought I had the harmony of the spheres all around me; and every word that dropped from his lips was as sweet as the honey of Hybla to me.—Oh! sir, said I, how inexpressibly kind and good is all this! Your poor servant has a much greater struggle than this to go through, a more knotty36 difficulty to overcome.
What is that? said he, a little impatiently: I will not forgive your doubts now.—No, sir, said I, I cannot doubt; but it is, how I shall support, how I shall deserve your goodness to me.—Dear girl! said he, and hugged me to his breast, I was afraid you would have made me angry again; but that I would not be, because I see you have a grateful heart; and this your kind and cheerful return, after such cruel usage as you had experienced in my house, enough to make you detest37 the place, has made me resolve to bear any thing in you, but doubts of my honour, at a time when I am pouring out my soul, with a true and affectionate ardour, before you.
But, good sir, said I, my greatest concern will be for the rude jests you will have yourself to encounter with, for thus stooping beneath yourself. For, as to me, considering my lowly estate, and little merit, even the slights and reflections of the ladies will be an honour to me: and I shall have the pride to place more than half their ill will to their envy at my happiness. And if I can, by the most cheerful duty, and resigned obedience38, have the pleasure to be agreeable to you, I shall think myself but too happy, let the world say what it will.
He said, You are very good, my dearest girl! But how will you bestow39 your time, when you will have no visits to receive or pay? No parties of pleasure to join in? No card-tables to employ your winter evenings; and even, as the taste is, half the day, summer and winter? And you have often played with my mother, too, and so know how to perform a part there, as well as in the other diversions: and I'll assure you, my girl, I shall not desire you to live without such amusements, as my wife might expect, were I to marry a lady of the first quality.
O, sir, said I, you are all goodness! How shall I bear it?—But do you think, sir, in such a family as yours, a person whom you shall honour with the name of mistress of it, will not find useful employments for her time, without looking abroad for any others?
In the first place, sir, if you will give me leave, I will myself look into such parts of the family economy, as may not be beneath the rank to which I shall have the honour of being exalted40, if any such there can be; and this, I hope, without incurring42 the ill will of any honest servant.
Then, sir, I will ease you of as much of your family accounts, as I possibly can, when I have convinced you that I am to be trusted with them; and you know, sir, my late good lady made me her treasurer43, her almoner, and every thing.
Then, sir, if I must needs be visiting or visited, and the ladies won't honour me so much, or even if they would now and then, I will visit, if your goodness will allow me so to do, the sick poor in the neighbourhood around you; and administer to their wants and necessities, in such matters as may not be hurtful to your estate, but comfortable to them; and entail44 upon you their blessings46, and their prayers for your dear health and welfare.
Then I will assist your housekeeper47, as I used to do, in the making jellies, comfits, sweetmeats, marmalades, cordials; and to pot, and candy, and preserve for the uses of the family; and to make, myself, all the fine linen48 of it for yourself and me.
Then, sir, if you will sometimes indulge me with your company, I will take an airing in your chariot now and then: and when you shall return home from your diversions on the green, or from the chase, or where you shall please to go, I shall have the pleasure of receiving you with duty, and a cheerful delight; and, in your absence, count the moments till you return; and you will, may be, fill up some part of my time, the sweetest by far! with your agreeable conversation, for an hour or two now and then; and be indulgent to the impertinent overflowings of my grateful heart, for all your goodness to me.
The breakfasting-time, the preparations for dinner, and sometimes to entertain your chosen friends, and the company you shall bring home with you, gentlemen, if not ladies, and the supperings, will fill up a great part of the day in a very necessary manner.
And, may be, sir, now and then a good-humoured lady will drop in; and, I hope, if they do, I shall so behave myself, as not to add to the disgrace you will have brought upon yourself: for, indeed, I will be very circumspect49, and try to be as discreet50 as I can; and as humble too, as shall be consistent with your honour.
Cards, 'tis true, I can play at, in all the usual games that our sex delight in; but this I am not fond of, nor shall ever desire to play, unless to induce such ladies, as you may wish to see, not to abandon your house for want of an amusement they are accustomed to.
And then, sir, you know, I love reading and scribbling52; and though all the latter will be employed in the family accounts, between the servants and me, and me and your good self: yet reading, at proper times, will be a pleasure to me, which I shall be unwilling53 to give up, for the best company in the world, except yours. And, O sir! that will help to polish my mind, and make me worthier54 of your company and conversation; and, with the explanations you will give me, of what I shall not understand, will be a sweet employment, and improvement too.
But one thing, sir, I ought not to forget, because it is the chief: My duty to God will, I hope, always employ some good portion of my time, with thanks for his superlative goodness to me; and to pray for you and myself: for you, sir, for a blessing45 on you, for your great goodness to such an unworthy creature: for myself, that I may be enabled to discharge my duty to you, and be found grateful for all the blessings I shall receive at the hands of Providence, by means of your generosity55 and condescension56.
With all this, sir, said I, can you think I shall be at a loss to pass my time? But, as I know, that every slight to me, if I come to be so happy, will be, in some measure, a slight to you, I will beg of you, sir, not to let me go very fine in dress; but appear only so, as that you may not be ashamed of it after the honour I shall have of being called by your worthy32 name: for well I know, sir, that nothing so much excites the envy of my own sex, as seeing a person above them in appearance, and in dress. And that would bring down upon me an hundred saucy things, and low-born brats57, and I can't tell what!
There I stopped; for I had prattled58 a great deal too much so early: and he said, clasping me to him, Why stops my dear Pamela?—Why does she not proceed? I could dwell upon your words all the day long; and you shall be the directress of your own pleasures, and your own time, so sweetly do you choose to employ it: and thus shall I find some of my own bad actions atoned59 for by your exemplary goodness, and God will bless me for your sake.
O, said he, what pleasure you give me in this sweet foretaste of my happiness! I will now defy the saucy, busy censurers of the world; and bid them know your excellence60, and my happiness, before they, with unhallowed lips, presume to judge of my actions, and your merit!—And let me tell you, my Pamela, that I can add my hopes of a still more pleasing amusement, and what your bashful modesty61 would not permit you to hint; and which I will no otherwise touch upon, lest it should seem, to your nicety, to detract from the present purity of my good intentions, than to say, I hope to have superadded to all these, such an employment, as will give me a view of perpetuating62 my happy prospects63, and my family at the same time; of which I am almost the only male.
I blushed, I believe; yet could not be displeased65 at the decent and charming manner with which he insinuated66 this distant hope: And oh! judge for me, how my heart was affected67 with all these things!
He was pleased to add another charming reflection, which shewed me the noble sincerity68 of his kind professions. I do own to you, my Pamela, said he, that I love you with a purer flame than ever I knew in my whole life; a flame to which I was a stranger; and which commenced for you in the garden; though you, unkindly, by your unseasonable doubts, nipped the opening bud, while it was too tender to bear the cold blasts of slight or negligence70. And I know more sincere joy and satisfaction in this sweet hour's conversation with you, than all the guilty tumults71 of my former passion ever did, or (had even my attempts succeeded) ever could have afforded me.
O, sir, said I, expect not words from your poor servant, equal to these most generous professions. Both the means, and the will, I now see, are given to you, to lay me under an everlasting72 obligation. How happy shall I be, if, though I cannot be worthy of all this goodness and condescension, I can prove myself not entirely unworthy of it! But I can only answer for a grateful heart; and if ever I give you cause, wilfully73, (and you will generously allow for involuntary imperfections,) to be disgusted with me, may I be an outcast from your house and favour, and as much repudiated74, as if the law had divorced me from you!
But sir, continued I, though I was so unseasonable as I was in the garden, you would, I flatter myself, had you then heard me, have pardoned my imprudence, and owned I had some cause to fear, and to wish to be with my poor father and mother: and this I the rather say, that you should not think me capable of returning insolence for your goodness; or appearing foolishly ungrateful to you, when you was so kind to me.
Indeed, Pamela, said he, you gave me great uneasiness; for I love you too well not to be jealous of the least appearance of your indifference76 to me, or preference to any other person, not excepting your parents themselves. This made me resolve not to hear you; for I had not got over my reluctance77 to marriage; and a little weight, you know, turns the scale, when it hangs in an equal balance. But yet, you see, that though I could part with you, while my anger held, yet the regard I had then newly professed78 for your virtue79, made me resolve not to offer to violate it; and you have seen likewise, that the painful struggle I underwent when I began to reflect, and to read your moving journal, between my desire to recall you, and my doubt whether you would return, (though yet I resolved not to force you to it,) had like to have cost me a severe illness: but your kind and cheerful return has dispelled80 all my fears, and given me hope, that I am not indifferent to you; and you see how your presence has chased away my illness.
I bless God for it, said I; but since you are so good as to encourage me, and will not despise my weakness, I will acknowledge, that I suffered more than I could have imagined, till I experienced it, in being banished81 your presence in so much anger; and the more still was I affected, when you answered the wicked Mrs. Jewkes so generously in my favour, at my leaving your house. For this, sir, awakened82 all my reverence83 for you; and you saw I could not forbear, not knowing what I did, to break boldly in upon you, and acknowledge your goodness on my knees. 'Tis true, my dear Pamela, said he, we have sufficiently84 tortured one another; and the only comfort that can result from it, will be, reflecting upon the matter coolly and with pleasure, when all these storms are overblown, (as I hope they now are,) and we sit together secured in each other's good opinion, recounting the uncommon85 gradations by which we have ascended86 to the summit of that felicity, which I hope we shall shortly arrive at.
Meantime, said the good gentleman, let me hear what my dear girl would have said in her justification87, could I have trusted myself with her, as to her fears, and the reason of her wishing herself from me, at a time that I had begun to shew my fondness for her, in a manner that I thought would have been agreeable to her and virtue.
I pulled out of my pocket the gipsy letter; but I said, before I shewed it to him, I have this letter, sir, to shew you, as what, I believe, you will allow must have given me the greatest disturbance88: but, first, as I know not who is the writer, and it seems to be in a disguised hand, I would beg it as a favour, that, if you guess who it is, which I cannot, it may not turn to their prejudice, because it was written, very probably, with no other view, than to serve me.
He took it, and read it. And it being signed Somebody, he said, Yes, this is indeed from Somebody; and, disguised as the hand is, I know the writer: Don't you see, by the setness of some of these letters, and a little secretary cut here and there, especially in that c, and that r, that it is the hand of a person bred in the law-way? Why, Pamela, said he, 'tis old Longman's hand: an officious rascal90 as he is!—But I have done with him. O sir, said I, it would be too insolent91 in me to offer (so much am I myself overwhelmed with your goodness,) to defend any body that you are angry with: Yet, sir, so far as they have incurred92 your displeasure for my sake, and for no other want of duty or respect, I could wish—But I dare not say more.
But, said he, as to the letter and the information it contains: Let me know, Pamela, when you received this? On the Friday, sir, said I, that you were gone to the wedding at Stamford.—How could it be conveyed to you, said he, unknown to Mrs. Jewkes, when I gave her such a strict charge to attend you, and you had promised me, that you would not throw yourself in the way of such intelligence? For, said he, when I went to Stamford, I knew, from a private intimation given me, that there would be an attempt made to see you, or give you a letter, by somebody, if not to get you away; but was not certain from what quarter, whether from my sister Davers, Mrs. Jervis, Mr. Longman, or John Arnold, or your father; and as I was then but struggling with myself, whether to give way to my honourable93 inclinations95, or to free you, and let you go to your father, that I might avoid the danger I found myself in of the former; (for I had absolutely resolved never to wound again even your ears with any proposals of a contrary nature;) that was the reason I desired you to permit Mrs. Jewkes to be so much on her guard till I came back, when I thought I should have decided96 this disputed point within myself, between my pride and my inclinations.
This, good sir, said I, accounts well to me for your conduct in that case, and for what you said to me and Mrs. Jewkes on that occasion: And I see more and more how much I may depend upon your honour and goodness to me.—But I will tell you all the truth. And then I recounted to him the whole affair of the gipsy, and how the letter was put among the loose grass, etc. And he said, The man who thinks a thousand dragons sufficient to watch a woman, when her inclination94 takes a contrary bent97, will find all too little; and she will engage the stones in the street, or the grass in the field, to act for her, and help on her correspondence. If the mind, said he, be not engaged, I see there is hardly any confinement98 sufficient for the body; and you have told me a very pretty story; and, as you never gave me any reason to question your veracity99, even in your severest trials, I make no doubt of the truth of what you have now mentioned: and I will, in my turn, give you such a proof of mine, that you shall find it carry a conviction with it.
You must know, then, my Pamela, that I had actually formed such a project, so well informed was this old rascally100 Somebody! and the time was fixed101 for the very person described in this letter to be here; and I had thought he should have read some part of the ceremony (as little as was possible, to deceive you) in my chamber102; and so I hoped to have you mine upon terms that then would have been much more agreeable to me than real matrimony. And I did not in haste intend you the mortification103 of being undeceived; so that we might have lived for years, perhaps, very lovingly together; and I had, at the same time, been at liberty to confirm or abrogate104 it as I pleased.
O sir, said I, I am out of breath with the thoughts of my danger! But what good angel prevented the execution of this deep-laid design?
Why, your good angel, Pamela, said he; for when I began to consider, that it would have made you miserable105, and me not happy; that if you should have a dear little one, it would be out of my own power to legitimate106 it, if I should wish it to inherit my estate; and that, as I am almost the last of my family, and most of what I possess must descend11 to a strange line, and disagreeable and unworthy persons; notwithstanding that I might, in this case, have issue of my own body; when I further considered your untainted virtue, what dangers and trials you had undergone by my means, and what a world of troubles I had involved you in, only because you were beautiful and virtuous107, which had excited all my passion for you; and reflected also upon your tried prudence75 and truth! I, though I doubted not effecting this my last plot, resolved to overcome myself; and, however I might suffer in struggling with my affection for you, to part with you, rather than to betray you under so black a veil. Besides, said he, I remember how much I had exclaimed against and censured108 an action of this kind, that had been attributed to one of the first men of the law, and of the kingdom, as he afterwards became; and that it was but treading in a path that another had marked out for me; and, as I was assured, with no great satisfaction to himself, when he came to reflect; my foolish pride was a little piqued109 with this, because I loved to be, if I went out of the way, my own original, as I may call it. On all these considerations it was, that I rejected this project, and sent word to the person, that I had better considered of the matter, and would not have him come, till he heard further from me: And, in this suspense110 I suppose, some of your confederates, Pamela, (for we have been a couple of plotters, though your virtue and merit have procured111 you faithful friends and partisans112, which my money and promises could hardly do,) one way or other got knowledge of it, and gave you this notice; but, perhaps, it would have come too late, had not your white angel got the better of my black one, and inspired me with resolutions to abandon the project, just as it was to have been put into execution. But yet I own, that, from these appearances, you were but too well justified113 in your fears, on this odd way of coming at this intelligence; and I have only one thing to blame you for, that though I was resolved not to hear you in your own defence, yet, as you have so ready a talent at your pen, you might have cleared your part of this matter up to me by a line or two; and when I had known what seeming good grounds you had for pouring cold water on a young flame, that was just then rising to an honourable expansion, should not have imputed114 it, as I was apt to do, to unseasonable insult for my tenderness to you, on one hand; to perverse115 nicety, on the other; or to (what I was most alarmed by, and concerned for) prepossession for some other person: And this would have saved us both much fatigue116, I of mind, you of body.
And, indeed, sir, said I, of mind too; and I could not better manifest this, than by the cheerfulness with which I obeyed your recalling me to your presence.
Ay, that, my dear Pamela, said he, and clasped me in his arms, was the kind, the inexpressibly kind action, that has rivetted my affections to you, and obliges me, in this free and unreserved manner, to pour my whole soul into your bosom117.
I said, I had the less merit in this my return, because I was driven, by an irresistible118 impulse to it; and could not help it, if I would.
This, said he, (and honoured me by kissing my hand,) is engaging, indeed; if I may hope, that my Pamela's gentle inclination for her persecutor119 was the strongest motive120 to her return; and I so much value a voluntary love in the person I would wish for my wife, that I would have even prudence and interest hardly named in comparison with it: And can you return me sincerely the honest compliment I now make you?—In the choice I have made, it is impossible I should have any view to my interest. Love, true love, is the only motive by which I am induced. And were I not what I am, could you give me the preference to any other you know in the world, notwithstanding what has passed between us? Why, said I, should your so much obliged Pamela refuse to answer this kind question? Cruel as I have thought you, and dangerous as your views to my honesty have been; you, sir, are the only person living that ever was more than indifferent to me: and before I knew this to be what I blush now to call it, I could not hate you, or wish you ill, though, from my soul, the attempts you made were shocking, and most distasteful to me.
I am satisfied, my Pamela, said he; nor shall I want to see those papers that you have kindly69 written for to your father; though I still wish to see them too, for the sake of the sweet manner in which you relate what has passed, and to have before me the whole series of your sufferings, that I may learn what degree of kindness may be sufficient to recompense you for them.
In this manner, my dear father and mother, did your happy daughter find herself blessed by her generous master! An ample recompense for all her sufferings did I think this sweet conversation only. A hundred tender things he expressed besides, that though they never can escape my memory, yet would be too tedious to write down. Oh, how I blessed God, and, I hope, ever shall, for all his gracious favours to his unworthy handmaid! What a happy change is this! And who knows but my kind, my generous master, may put it in my power, when he shall see me not quite unworthy of it, to be a means, without injuring him, to dispense around me, to many persons, the happy influences of the condition to which I shall be, by his kind favour, exalted? Doubly blest shall I be, in particular, if I can return the hundredth part of the obligations I owe to such honest good parents, to whose pious121 instructions and examples, under God, I owe all my present happiness, and future prospects.—O the joy that fills my mind on these proud hopes! on these delightful122 prospects!—It is too mighty123 for me, and I must sit down to ponder all these things, and to admire and bless the goodness of that Providence, which has, through so many intricate mazes124, made me tread the paths of innocence125, and so amply rewarded me for what it has itself enabled me to do! All glory to God alone be ever given for it, by your poor enraptured126 daughter!——
I will now continue my most pleasing relation.
As the chariot was returning home from this sweet airing, he said, From all that has passed between us in this pleasing turn, my Pamela will see, and will believe, that the trials of her virtue are all over from me: But, perhaps, there will be some few yet to come of her patience and humility127. For I have, at the earnest importunity128 of Lady Darnford, and her daughters, promised them a sight of my beloved girl: And so I intend to have their whole family, and Lady Jones, and Mrs. Peters's family, to dine with me once in a few days. And, since I believe you would hardly choose, at present, to grace the table on the occasion, till you can do it in your own right, I should be glad you would not refuse coming down to us if I should desire it; for I would preface our nuptials129, said the dear gentleman! O what a sweet word was that!—with their good opinion of your merits: and to see you, and your sweet manner, will be enough for that purpose; and so, by degrees, prepare my neighbours for what is to follow: And they already have your character from me, and are disposed to admire you.
Sir, said I, after all that has passed, I should be unworthy, if I could not say, that I can have no will but yours: And however awkwardly I shall behave in such company, weighed down with a sense of your obligations on one side, and my own unworthiness, with their observations on the other, I will not scruple130 to obey you.
I am obliged to you, Pamela, said he, and pray be only dressed as you are; for since they know your condition, and I have told them the story of your present dress, and how you came by it, one of the young ladies begs it as a favour, that they may see you just as you are: and I am the rather pleased it should be so, because they will perceive you owe nothing to dress, but make a much better figure with your own native stock of loveliness, than the greatest ladies arrayed in the most splendid attire131, and adorned132 with the most glittering jewels.
O sir, said I, your goodness beholds133 your poor servant in a light greatly beyond her merit! But it must not be expected, that others, ladies especially, will look upon me with your favourable134 eyes: but, nevertheless, I should be best pleased to wear always this humble garb, till you, for your own sake, shall order it otherwise: for, oh, sir, said I, I hope it will be always my pride to glory most in your goodness! and it will be a pleasure to me to shew every one, that, with respect to my happiness in this life, I am entirely the work of your bounty135; and to let the world see from what a lowly original you have raised me to honours, that the greatest ladies would rejoice in.
Admirable Pamela! said he; excellent girl!—Surely thy sentiments are superior to those of all thy sex!—I might have addressed a hundred fine ladies; but never, surely, could have had reason to admire one as I do you.
As, my dear father and mother, I repeat these generous sayings, only because they are the effect of my master's goodness, being far from presuming to think I deserve one of them; so I hope you will not attribute it to my vanity; for I do assure you, I think I ought rather to be more humble, as I am more obliged: for it must be always a sign of a poor condition, to receive obligations one cannot repay; as it is of a rich mind, when it can confer them without expecting or needing a return. It is, on one side, the state of the human creature, compared, on the other, to the Creator; and so, with due deference137, may his beneficence be said to be Godlike, and that is the highest that can be said.
The chariot brought us home at near the hour of two; and, blessed be God, my master is pure well, and cheerful; and that makes me hope he does not repent138 him of his late generous treatment of me. He handed me out of the chariot, and to the parlour, with the same goodness, that he shewed when he put me into it, before several of the servants. Mrs. Jewkes came to inquire how he did. Quite well, Mrs. Jewkes, said he; quite well: I thank God, and this good girl, for it!—I am glad of it, said she; but I hope you are not the worse for my care, and my doctoring of you!—No, but the better, Mrs. Jewkes, said he; you have much obliged me by both.
Then he said, Mrs. Jewkes, you and I have used this good girl very hardly.—I was afraid, sir, said she, I should be the subject of her complaints.—I assure you, said he, she has not opened her lips about you. We have had a quite different subject to talk of; and I hope she will forgive us both: You especially she must; because you have done nothing but by my orders. But I only mean, that the necessary consequence of those orders has been very grievous to my Pamela: And now comes our part to make her amends139, if we can.
Sir, said she, I always said to madam (as she called me), that you was very good, and very forgiving. No, said he, I have been stark140 naught141; and it is she, I hope, will be very forgiving. But all this preamble142 is to tell you, Mrs. Jewkes, that now I desire you'll study to oblige her, as much as (to obey me) you was forced to disoblige her before. And you'll remember, that in every thing she is to be her own mistress.
Yes, said she, and mine too, I suppose, sir? Ay, said the generous gentleman, I believe it will be so in a little time.—Then, said she, I know how it will go with me! And so put her handkerchief to her eyes.—Pamela, said my master, comfort poor Mrs. Jewkes.
This was very generous, already to seem to put her in my power: and I took her by the hand, and said, I shall never take upon me, Mrs. Jewkes, to make a bad use of any opportunities that may be put into my hands by my generous master; nor shall I ever wish to do you any disservice, if I might: for I shall consider, that what you have done, was in obedience to a will which it will become me also to submit to and so, if the effects of our obedience may be different, yet as they proceed from one cause, that must be always reverenced143 by me.
See there, Mrs. Jewkes, said my master, we are both in generous hands; and indeed, if Pamela did not pardon you, I should think she but half forgave me, because you acted by my instructions.—Well, said she, God bless you both together, since it must be so; and I will double my diligence to oblige my lady, as I find she will soon be.
O my dear father and mother! now pray for me on another score; for fear I should grow too proud, and be giddy and foolish with all these promising144 things, so soothing145 to the vanity of my years and sex. But even to this hour can I pray, that God would remove from me all these delightful prospects, if they were likely so to corrupt146 my mind, as to make me proud and vain, and not acknowledge, with thankful humility, the blessed Providence which has so visibly conducted me through the dangerous paths I have trod, to this happy moment.
My master was pleased to say, that he thought I might as well dine with him, since he was alone: But I begged he would excuse me, for fear, as I said, such excess of goodness and condescension, all at once, should turn my head;—and that he would, by slower degrees, bring on my happiness, lest I should not know how to bear it.
Persons that doubt themselves, said he, seldom do amiss: And if there was any fear of what you say, you could not have it in your thoughts: for none but the presumptuous147, the conceited148, and the thoughtless, err149 capitally. But, nevertheless, said he, I have such an opinion of your prudence, that I shall generally think what you do right, because it is you that do it.
Sir, said I, your kind expressions shall not be thrown away upon me, if I can help it; for they will task me with the care of endeavouring to deserve your good opinion, and your approbation150, as the best rule of my conduct.
Being then about to go up stairs, Permit me, sir, said I, (looking about me with some confusion, to see that nobody was there,) thus on my knees to thank you, as I often wanted to do in the chariot, for all your goodness to me, which shall never, I hope, be cast away upon me. And so I had the boldness to kiss his hand.
I wonder, since, how I came to be so forward. But what could I do?—My poor grateful heart was like a too full river, which overflows151 its banks: and it carried away my fear and my shamefacedness, as that does all before it on the surface of its waters!
He clasped me in his arms with transport, and condescendingly kneeled by me, and kissing me, said, O my dear obliging good girl, on my knees, as you on yours, I vow152 to you everlasting truth and fidelity153! and may God but bless us both with half the pleasures that seem to be before us, and we shall have no reason to envy the felicity of the greatest princes!—O sir, said I, how shall I support so much goodness! I am poor, indeed, in every thing, compared to you! and how far, very far, do you, in every generous way, leave me behind you!
He raised me, and, as I bent towards the door, led me to the stairs foot, and, saluting154 me there again, left me to go up to my closet, where I threw myself on my knees in raptures155 of joy, and blessed that gracious God, who had thus changed my distress156 to happiness, and so abundantly rewarded me for all the sufferings I had passed through.—And oh, how light, how very light, do all those sufferings now appear, which then my repining mind made so grievous to me!—Hence, in every state of life, and in all the changes and chances of it, for the future, will I trust in Providence, who knows what is best for us, and frequently turns the very evils we most dread157, to be the causes of our happiness, and of our deliverance from greater.—My experiences, young as I am, as to this great point of reliance on God, are strong, though my judgment158 in general may be weak and uninformed: but you'll excuse these reflections, because they are your beloved daughter's; and, so far as they are not amiss, derive159 themselves from the benefit of yours and my late good lady's examples and instructions.
I have written a vast deal in a little time; and shall only say, to conclude this delightful Wednesday, That in the afternoon my good master was so well, that he rode out on horseback, and came home about nine at night; and then stepped up to me, and, seeing me with pen and ink before me in my closet, said, I come only to tell you I am very well, my Pamela: and since I have a letter or two to write, I will leave you to proceed in yours, as I suppose that was your employment, (for I had put by my papers at his coming up,) and so he saluted160 me, bid me good night, and went down; and I finished up to this place before I went to bed. Mrs. Jewkes told me, if it was more agreeable to me, she would be in another room; but I said, No thank you, Mrs. Jewkes; pray let me have your company. And she made me a fine courtesy, and thanked me.—How times are altered!
Thursday.
This morning my master came up to me, and talked with me on various subjects, for a good while together, in the most kind manner. Among other things, he asked me, if I chose to order any new clothes against my marriage. (O how my heart flutters when he mentions this subject so freely!) I said, I left every thing to his good pleasure, only repeated my request, for the reasons aforegiven, that I might not be too fine.
He said, I think, my dear, it shall be very private: I hope you are not afraid of a sham-marriage; and pray get the service by heart, that you may see nothing is omitted. I glowed between shame and delight. O how I felt my cheeks burn!
I said, I feared nothing, I apprehended162 nothing, but my own unworthiness. Said he, I think it shall be done within these fourteen days, from this day, at this house. O how I trembled! but not with grief, you may believe—What says my girl? Have you to object against any day of the next fourteen: because my affairs require me to go to my other house, and I think not to stir from this till I am happy with you?
I have no will but yours, said I (all glowing like the fire, as I could feel:) But, sir, did you say in the house? Ay, said he; for I care not how privately163 it be done; and it must be very public if we go to church. It is a holy rite89, sir, said I; and would be better, methinks, in a holy place.
I see (said he, most kindly) my lovely maid's confusion; and your trembling tenderness shews I ought to oblige you all I may. Therefore I will order my own little chapel164, which has not been used for two generations, for any thing but a lumber-room, because our family seldom resided here long together, to be cleared and cleaned, and got ready for the ceremony, if you dislike your own chamber or mine.
Sir, said I, that will be better than the chamber, and I hope it will never be lumbered165 again, but kept to the use for which, as I presume, it has been consecrated166. O yes, said he, it has been consecrated, and that several ages ago, in my great great grandfather's time, who built that and the good old house together.
But now, my good girl, if I do not too much add to your sweet confusion, shall it be in the first seven days, or the second of this fortnight? I looked down, quite out of countenance167. Tell me, said he.
In the second, if you please, sir, said I.—As you please, said he most kindly; but I should thank you, Pamela, if you would choose the first. I'd rather, sir, if you please, said I, have the second. Well, said he, be it so; but don't defer136 it till the last day of the fourteen.
Pray sir, said I, since you embolden168 me to talk on this important subject, may I not send my dear father and mother word of my happiness?—You may, said he; but charge them to keep it secret, till you or I direct the contrary. And I told you, I would see no more of your papers; but I meant, I would not without your consent: but if you will shew them to me (and now I have no other motive for my curiosity, but the pleasure I take in reading what you write,) I shall acknowledge it as a favour.
If, sir, said I, you will be pleased to let me write over again one sheet, I will; though I had relied upon your word, and not written them for your perusal169. What is that? said he: though I cannot consent to it beforehand: for I more desire to see them, because they are your true sentiments at the time, and because they were not written for my perusal. Sir, said I, what I am loath170 you should see, are very severe reflections on the letter I received by the gipsy, when I apprehended your design of the sham-marriage; though there are other things I would not have you see; but that is the worst. It can't be worse, said he, my dear sauce-box, than I have seen already; and I will allow your treating me in ever so black a manner, on that occasion, because it must have a very black appearance to you.—Well, sir, said I, I think I will obey you before night. But don't alter a word, said he. I won't, sir, replied I, since you order it.
While we were talking, Mrs. Jewkes came up, and said Thomas was returned. O, said my master, let him bring up the papers: for he hoped, and so did I, that you had sent them by him. But it was a great balk171, when he came up and said, Sir, Mr. Andrews did not care to deliver them; and would have it, that his daughter was forced to write that letter to him: and, indeed, sir, said he, the old gentleman took on sadly, and would have it that his daughter was undone172, or else, he said, she would not have turned back, when on her way, (as I told him she did, said Thomas,) instead of coming to them. I began to be afraid now that all would be bad for me again.
Well, Tom, said he, don't mince173 the matter; tell me, before Mrs. Andrews, what they said. Why, sir, both he and Goody Andrews, after they had conferred together upon your letter, madam, came out, weeping bitterly, that grieved my very heart; and they said, Now all was over with their poor daughter; and either she had written that letter by compulsion, or had yielded to your honour; so they said; and was, or would be ruined!
My master seemed vexed174, as I feared. And I said, Pray, sir, be so good as to excuse the fears of my honest parents. They cannot know your goodness to me.
And so (said he, without answering me,) they refused to deliver the papers? Yes, and please your honour, said Thomas, though I told them, that you, madam, of your own accord, on a letter I had brought you, very cheerfully wrote what I carried: But the old gentleman said, Why, wife, there are in these papers twenty things nobody should see but ourselves, and especially not the 'squire175. O the poor girl has had so many stratagems176 to struggle with! and now, at last, she has met with one that has been too hard for her. And can it be possible for us to account for her setting out to come to us, and in such post haste, and, when she had got above half-way, to send us this letter, and to go back again of her own accord, as you say; when we know that all her delight would have been to come to us and to escape from the perils177 she had been so long contending with? And then, and please your honour, he said, he could not bear this; for his daughter was ruined, to be sure, before now. And so, said Thomas, the good old couple sat themselves down, and, hand-in-hand, leaning upon each other's shoulder, did nothing but lament178.—I was piteously grieved, said he; but all I could say could not comfort them; nor would they give me the papers; though I told them I should deliver them only to Mrs. Andrews herself. And so, and please your honour, I was forced to come away without them.
My good master saw me all bathed in tears at this description of your distress and fears for me; and he said, I would not have you take on so. I am not angry with your father in the main; he is a good man; and I would have you write out of hand, and it shall be sent by the post to Mr. Atkins, who lives within two miles of your father, and I'll enclose it in a cover of mine, in which I'll desire Mr. Atkins, the moment it comes to his hand, to convey it safely to your father or mother; and say nothing of their sending their papers, that it may not make them uneasy; for I want not now to see them on any other score than that of mere179 curiosity; and that will do at any time. And so saying, he saluted me before Thomas, and with his own handkerchief wiped my eyes; and said to Thomas, The good old folks are not to be blamed in the main. They don't know my honourable intentions by their dear daughter; who, Tom, will, in a little time, be your mistress; though I shall keep the matter private some days, and would not have it spoken of by my servants out of my house.
Thomas said, God bless your honour! You know best. And I said, O, sir, you are all goodness!—How kind is this, to forgive the disappointment, instead of being angry, as I feared you would! Thomas then withdrew. And my master said, I need not remind you of writing out of hand, to make the good folks easy: and I will leave you to yourself for that purpose; only send me down such of your papers, as you are willing I should see, with which I shall entertain myself for an hour or two. But, one thing, added he, I forgot to tell you: The neighbouring gentry I mentioned will be here tomorrow to dine with me, and I have ordered Mrs. Jewkes to prepare for them. And must I, sir, said I, be shewn to them? O yes, said he; that's the chief reason of their coming. And you'll see nobody equal to yourself: don't be concerned.
I opened my papers, as soon as my master had left me; and laid out those beginning on the Thursday morning he set out for Stamford, 'with the morning visit he made me before I was up, and the injunctions of watchfulness180, etc. to Mrs. Jewkes; the next day's gipsy affair, and my reflections, in which I called him truly diabolical181, and was otherwise very severe, on the strong appearances the matter had then against him. His return on Saturday, with the dread he put me in, on the offering to search me for my papers which followed those he had got by Mrs. Jewkes's means. My being forced to give them up. His carriage to me after he had read them, and questions to me. His great kindness to me on seeing the dangers I had escaped and the troubles I had undergone. And how I unseasonably, in the midst of his goodness, expressed my desire of being sent to you, having the intelligence of a sham-marriage, from the gipsy, in my thoughts. How this enraged182 him, and made him turn me that very Sunday out of his house, and send me on my way to you. The particulars of my journey, and my grief at parting with him; and my free acknowledgment to you, that I found, unknown to myself, I had begun to love him, and could not help it. His sending after me, to beg my return; but yet generously leaving me at my liberty, when he might have forced me to return whether I was willing or not. My resolution to oblige him, and fatiguing183 journey back. My concern for his illness on my return. His kind reception of me, and shewing me his sister Davers's angry letter, against his behaviour to me, desiring him to set me free, and threatening to renounce20 him as a brother, if he should degrade himself by marrying me. My serious reflections on this letter, etc.' (all which, I hope, with the others, you will shortly see.) And this carried matters down to Tuesday night last.
All that followed was so kind on his side, being our chariot conference, as above, on Wednesday morning, and how good he has been ever since, that I thought I would go no further; for I was a little ashamed to be so very open on that tender and most grateful subject; though his great goodness to me deserves all the acknowledgments I can possibly make.
And when I had looked these out, I carried them down myself into the parlour to him; and said, putting them into his hands, Your allowances, good sir, as heretofore; and if I have been too open and free in my reflections or declarations, let my fears on one side, and my sincerity on the other, be my excuse. You are very obliging, my good girl, said he. You have nothing to apprehend161 from my thoughts, any more than from my actions.
So I went up, and wrote the letter to you, briefly184 acquainting you with my present happiness, and my master's goodness, and expressing the gratitude185 of heart, which I owe to the kindest gentleman in the world, and assuring you, that I should soon have the pleasure of sending back to you, not only those papers, but all that succeeded them to this time, as I know you delight to amuse yourself in your leisure hours with my scribble186: And I said, carrying it down to my master, before I sealed it, Will you please, sir, to take the trouble of reading what I write to my dear parents? Thank you, Pamela, said he, and set me on his knee, while he read it; and seemed much pleased with it; and giving it me again, You are very happy, said he, my beloved girl, in your style and expressions: and the affectionate things you say of me are inexpressibly obliging; and again, with this kiss, said he, do I confirm for truth all that you have promised for my intentions in this letter.—O what halcyon187 days are these! God continue them!—A change would kill me quite.
He went out in his chariot in the afternoon; and in the evening returned, and sent me word, he would be glad of my company for a little walk in the garden; and down I went that very moment.
He came to meet me. So, says he, how does my dear girl do now?—Whom do you think I have seen since I have been out?—I don't know, sir, said I. Why, said he, there is a turning in the road, about five miles off, that goes round a meadow, that has a pleasant foot-way, by the side of a little brook188, and a double row of limes on each side, where now and then the gentry in the neighbourhood walk, and angle, and divert themselves.—I'll shew it you next opportunity.—And I stept out of my chariot, to walk across this meadow, and bid Robin meet me with it on the further part of it: And whom should I 'spy there, walking, with a book in his hand, reading, but your humble servant Mr. Williams! Don't blush, Pamela, said he. As his back was towards me, I thought I would speak to the man: and, before he saw me, I said, How do you, old acquaintance? (for, said he, you know we were of one college for a twelvemonth.) I thought the man would have jumped into the brook, he gave such a start at hearing my voice, and seeing me.
Poor man! said I. Ay, said he, but not too much of your poor man, in that soft accent, neither, Pamela.—Said I, I am sorry my voice is so startling to you, Mr. Williams. What are you reading? Sir, said he, and stammered189 with the surprise, it is the French Telemachus; for I am about perfecting myself, if I can, in the French tongue.—Thought I, I had rather so, than perfecting my Pamela in it.—You do well, replied I.—Don't you think that yonder cloud may give us a small shower? and it did a little begin to wet.—He said, he believed not much.
If, said I, you are for the village, I'll give you a cast; for I shall call at Sir Simon's in my return from the little round I am taking. He asked me if it was not too great a favour?—No, said I, don't talk of that; let us walk to the further opening there, and we shall meet my chariot.
So, Pamela, continued my master, we fell into conversation as we walked. He said he was very sorry he had incurred my displeasure; and the more, as he had been told, by Lady Jones, who had it from Sir Simon's family, that I had a more honourable view than at first was apprehended. I said, We fellows of fortune, Mr. Williams, take sometimes a little more liberty with the world than we ought to do; wantoning, very probably, as you contemplative folks would say, in the sunbeams of a dangerous affluence190; and cannot think of confining ourselves to the common paths, though the safest and most eligible191, after all. And you may believe I could not very well like to be supplanted192 in a view that lay next my heart; and that by an old acquaintance, whose good, before this affair, I was studious to promote.
I would only say, sir, said he, that my first motive was entirely such as became my function: And, very politely, said my master, he added, And I am very sure, that however inexcusable I might seem in the progress of the matter, yourself, sir, would have been sorry to have it said, you had cast your thoughts on a person, that nobody could have wished for but yourself.
Well, Mr. Williams, said I, I see you are a man of gallantry, as well as religion: But what I took most amiss was, that, if you thought me doing a wrong thing, you did not expostulate with me upon it, as your function might have allowed you to do; but immediately determined193 to counterplot me, and attempt to secure to yourself a prize you would have robbed me of, and that from my own house. But the matter is at an end, and I retain not any malice194 upon it; though you did not know but I might, at last, do honourably195 by her, as I actually intend.
I am sorry for myself, sir, said he, that I should so unhappily incur41 your displeasure; but I rejoice for her sake in your honourable intentions: give me leave only to say, that if you make Miss Andrews your lady, she will do credit to your choice with every body that sees her, or comes to know her; and, for person and mind both, you may challenge the county.
In this manner, said my master, did the parson and I confabulate; and I set him down at his lodgings196 in the village. But he kept your secret, Pamela; and would not own, that you gave any encouragement to his addresses.
Indeed, sir, said I, he could not say that I did; and I hope you believe me. I do, I do, said he: but 'tis still my opinion, that if, when I saw plots set up against my plots, I had not discovered the parson as I did, the correspondence between you might have gone to a length that would have put our present situation out of both our powers.
Sir, said I, when you consider, that my utmost presumption197 could not make me hope for the honour you now seem to design me; that I was so hardly used, and had no prospect64 before me but dishonour198, you will allow that I should have seemed very little in earnest in my professions of honesty, if I had not endeavoured to get away: but yet I resolved not to think of marriage; for I never saw the man I could love, till your goodness emboldened199 me to look up to you.
I should, my dear Pamela, said he, make a very ill compliment to my vanity, if I did not believe you; though, at the same time, justice calls upon me to say, that it is, some things considered, beyond my merit.
There was a sweet, noble expression for your poor daughter, my dear father and mother!—And from my master too!
I was glad to hear this account of the interview between Mr. Williams and himself; but I dared not to say so. I hope in time he will be reinstated in his good graces.
He was so good as to tell me, he had given orders for the chapel to be cleared. O how I look forward with inward joy, yet with fear and trembling!
Friday.
About twelve o'clock came Sir Simon, and his lady and two daughters; and Lady Jones, and a sister-in-law of hers; and Mr. Peters, and his spouse200 and niece. Mrs. Jewkes, who is more and more obliging, was much concerned I was not dressed in some of my best clothes, and made me many compliments.
They all went into the garden for a walk, before dinner; and, I understood, were so impatient to see me, that my master took them into the largest alcove201, after they had walked two or three turns, and stept himself to me. Come, my Pamela, said he, the ladies can't be satisfied without seeing you, and I desire you'll come. I said, I was ashamed; but I would obey him. Said he, The two young ladies are dressed out in their best attire; but they make not such an appearance as my charming girl in this ordinary garb.—Sir, said I, shan't I follow you thither202? For I can't bear you should do me so much honour. Well, said he, I'll go before you. And he bid Mrs. Jewkes bring a bottle of sack, and some cake. So he went down to them.
This alcove fronts the longest gravel-walk in the garden, so that they saw me all the way I came, for a good way: and my master told me afterwards, with pleasure, all they said of me.
Will you forgive the little vain slut, your daughter, if I tell you all, as he was pleased to tell me? He said, 'spying me first, Look, there, ladies, comes my pretty rustic203!—They all, I saw, which dashed me, stood at the windows, and in the door-way, looking full at me.
My master told me, that Lady Jones said, She is a charming creature, I see that, at this distance. And Sir Simon, it seems, who has been a sad rake in his younger days, swore he never saw so easy an air, so fine a shape, and so graceful204 a presence.—The Lady Darnford said, I was a sweet girl. And Mrs. Peters said very handsome things. Even the parson said, I should be the pride of the county. O, dear sirs! all this was owing to the light my good master's favour placed me in, which made me shine out in their eyes beyond my deserts. He said the young ladies blushed, and envied me.
When I came near, he saw me in a little confusion, and was so kind as to meet me: Give me your hand, said he, my poor girl; you walk too fast, (for, indeed, I wanted to be out of their gazing). I did so, with a courtesy, and he led me up the steps of the alcove, and, in a most gentleman-like manner, presented me to the ladies, and they all saluted me, and said, They hoped to be better acquainted with me: and Lady Darnford was pleased to say, I should be the flower of their neighbourhood. Sir Simon said, Good neighbour, by your leave; and saluting me, added, Now will I say, that I have kissed the loveliest maiden205 in England. But, for all this, methought I owed him a grudge206 for a tell-tale, though all had turned out so happily. Mr. Peters very gravely followed his example, and said, like a bishop207, God bless you, fair excellence! said Lady Jones, Pray, dear madam, sit down by me: and they all sat down: But I said, I would stand, if they pleased. No, Pamela, said my master: pray sit down with these good ladies, my neighbours:—They will indulge it to you, for my sake, till they know you better; and for your own, when they are acquainted with you. Sir, said I, I shall be proud to deserve their indulgence.
They all so gazed at me, that I could not look up; for I think it is one of the distinctions of persons of condition, and well-bred people, to put bashful bodies out of countenance. Well, Sir Simon, said my master, what say you now to my pretty rustic?—He swore a great oath, that he should better know what to say to me if he was as young as himself. Lady Darnford said, You will never leave, Sir Simon.
Said my master, You are a little confused, my good girl, and out of breath; but I have told all my kind neighbours here a good deal of your story, and your excellence. Yes, said Lady Darnford, my dear neighbour, as I will call you; we that are here present have all heard of your uncommon story. Madam, said I, you have then heard what must make your kind allowance for me very necessary. No, said Mrs. Peters, we have heard what will always make you valued as an honour to our sex, and as a worthy pattern for all the young ladies in the county. You are very good, madam, said I, to make me able to look up, and to be thankful for the honour you are pleased to do me.
Mrs. Jewkes came in with the canary, brought by Nan, to the alcove, and some cakes on a silver salver; and I said, Mrs. Jewkes, let me be your assistant; I will serve the ladies with the cake. And so I took the salver, and went round to the good company with it, ending with my master. The Lady Jones said, She never was served with such a grace, and it was giving me too much trouble. O, madam, said I, I hope my good master's favour will never make me forget, that it is my duty to wait upon his friends. Master, sweet one! said Sir Simon, I hope you won't always call Mr. B—— by that name, for fear it should become a fashion for all our ladies to do the like through the county. I, sir, said I, shall have many reasons to continue this style, which cannot affect your good ladies.
Sir Simon, said Lady Jones, you are very arch upon us but I see very well, that it will be the interest of all the gentlemen, to bring their ladies into an intimacy208 with one that can give them such a good example. I am sure then, madam, said I, it must be after I have been polished and improved by the honour of such an example as yours.
They all were very good and affable; and the young Lady Darnford, who had wished to see me in this dress, said, I beg your pardon, dear miss, as she called me; but I had heard how sweetly this garb became you, and was told the history of it; and I begged it, as a favour, that you might oblige us with your appearance in it. I am much obliged to your ladyship, said I, that your kind prescription209 was so agreeable to my choice. Why, said she, was it your choice then?—I am glad of that: though I am sure your person must give, and not take, ornament210 from any dress.
You are very kind, madam, said I: but there will be the less reason to fear I should forget the high obligations I should have to the kindest of gentlemen, when I can delight to shew the humble degree from which his goodness had raised me.—My dear Pamela, said my master, if you proceed at this rate, I must insist upon your first seven days. You know what I mean. Sir, said I, you are all goodness!
They drank a glass of sack each, and Sir Simon would make me do so too, saying, It will be a reflection, madam, upon all the ladies, if you don't do as they. No, Sir Simon, said I, that can't be, because the ladies' journey hither makes a glass of canary a proper cordial for them: but I won't refuse; because I will do myself the honour of drinking good health to you, and to all this worthy company.
Said good Lady Darnford, to my master, I hope, sir, we shall have Mrs. Andrews's company at table. He said, very obligingly, Madam, it is her time now; and I will leave it to her choice. If the good ladies, then, will forgive me, sir, said I, I had rather be excused. They all said, I must not be excused. I begged I might. Your reason for it, my dear Pamela? said my master: since the ladies request it, I wish you would oblige them. Sir, replied I, your goodness will make me, every day, worthier of the honour the ladies do me; and when I can persuade myself that I am more worthy of it than at present, I shall with great joy embrace all the opportunities they will be pleased to give me.
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1
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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comport
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| vi.相称，适合 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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renounced
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| v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布放弃；宣布与…决裂；宣布摒弃 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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censures
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| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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knotty
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| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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40
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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41
incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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incurring
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
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43
treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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44
entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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45
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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47
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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48
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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49
circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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50
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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51
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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52
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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53
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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54
worthier
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| 应得某事物( worthy的比较级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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55
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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56
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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57
brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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61
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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perpetuating
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| perpetuate的现在进行式 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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insinuated
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| v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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tumults
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| 吵闹( tumult的名词复数 )； 喧哗； 激动的吵闹声； 心烦意乱 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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75
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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80
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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83
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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rascally
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| adj. 无赖的，恶棍的 adv. 无赖地，卑鄙地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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102
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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103
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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104
abrogate
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| v.废止，废除 | |
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105
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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106
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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107
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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108
censured
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| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的过去式 ) | |
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109
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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110
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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111
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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112
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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113
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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114
imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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116
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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117
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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118
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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119
persecutor
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| n. 迫害者 | |
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120
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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121
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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122
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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123
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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124
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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125
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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126
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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128
importunity
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| n.硬要，强求 | |
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129
nuptials
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| n.婚礼；婚礼( nuptial的名词复数 ) | |
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130
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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131
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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132
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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133
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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134
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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135
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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136
defer
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| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
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137
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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138
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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139
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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140
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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141
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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142
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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143
reverenced
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| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的过去式和过去分词 )；敬礼 | |
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144
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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145
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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146
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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147
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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148
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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149
err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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150
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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151
overflows
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| v.溢出，淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 )；充满；挤满了人；扩展出界，过度延伸 | |
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152
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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153
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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154
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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155
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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156
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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157
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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158
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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159
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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160
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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161
apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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162
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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163
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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164
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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165
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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166
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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167
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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168
embolden
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| v.给…壮胆，鼓励 | |
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169
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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170
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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171
balk
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| n.大方木料；v.妨碍；不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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172
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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173
mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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174
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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175
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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176
stratagems
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| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
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177
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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178
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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179
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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180
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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181
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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182
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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183
fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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184
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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185
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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186
scribble
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| v.潦草地书写，乱写，滥写；n.潦草的写法，潦草写成的东西，杂文 | |
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187
halcyon
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| n.平静的，愉快的 | |
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188
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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189
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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190
affluence
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| n.充裕，富足 | |
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191
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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192
supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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193
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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194
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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195
honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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196
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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197
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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198
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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199
emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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200
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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201
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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202
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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203
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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204
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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205
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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206
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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207
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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208
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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209
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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210
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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