-but I must break off, with only assuring your ladyship,

that I am, and ever will be,

Your obliged and grateful

P. B——.

LETTER LXVI.

Lady Davers to Mrs. B——.

MY DEAREST PAMELA,-I understand things go not so well as I wish. If you think my coming up to town, and residing with you, while you stay in it, will be of service to you, or help to get you out of it, I will set out directly. I will pretend some indisposition, and a desire of consulting the London physicians; or anything you shall think fit to be done, by

Your affectionate sister,

And faithful friend,

B. DAVERS.

LETTER LXVII.

Mrs. B. to Lady Davers.

MY DEAREST LADY,-A thousand thanks for your goodness to me: but I hope all will be well. I hope God will enable me to act so prudent a part, as will touch his generous breast. Be pleased to tell me what your ladyship has heard but it becomes not me, I think, till I cannot help it, to make any appeals; for I know those will not be excused and I do all I can to suppress my uneasiness before him. But I pay for it, when I am alone. My nursery, and my reliance on God (I should have said the

latter first), are all my consolation-God preserve and bless you, my good lady and my noble lord! (but I am apt to think your ladyship's presence will not avail) prays

Your affectionate and obliged

P. B.

LETTER LXVIII.

Lady Davers to Mrs. B——.

WHY does not my sweet girl subscribe sister, as usual? I have done nothing amiss to you! I love you dearly, and ever will. I can't help my brother's faults. But I hope he treats you with politeness and decency. He shall be none of my brother if he don't. I rest a great deal upon your prudence; and it will be very meritorious, if you can overcome yourself, so as to act unexceptionably, though it may not be deserved, on this occasion: For, in doing so, you'll have a triumph over nature itself; for, my dear girl, as you have formerly owned, you have a little touch of jealousy in your composition.*

What I have heard is no secret to anybody. The injured party is generally the last who hears in these cases, and you shall not first be told anything by me that must afflict you, but cannot you more than it does me. God give you patience and comfort! The wicked lady has a deal to answer for, to disturb such an uncommon happiBut no more, than that I am

ness.

Your ever affectionate sister,

B. DAVERS.

I am all impatience to hear how you conduct yourself upon this trying occasion. Let me know what you have heard, and how you came to hear it.

* See page So.

LETTER LXIX.

Mrs. B to Lady Davers.

WHY don't I subscribe sister? asks my dearest Lady Davers-I have not had the courage to do it of late. For my title to that honour arises from the dear, thrice dear Mr. B! And how long I may be permitted to call him mine, I cannot say. But since you command it, I will call your ladyship by that beloved name, let the rest happen as God shall see fit.

Mr. B- - cannot be unpolite, in the main; but he is cold, and a little cross, and short in his speeches to me. I try to hide my grief from everybody, and most from him; for, my dear lady, neither my father, mother, nor Miss Darnford know anything from me. Mrs. Jervis, from whom I seldom hide anything, as she is on the spot with me, hears not my complainings, nor my uneasiness: for I would not lessen the dear man. He may yet see the error of the way he is in. God grant it, for his own sake, as well as mine!—I am even sorry your ladyship is afflicted with the knowledge of the matter.

The poor unhappy lady, God forgive her! is to be pitied. She loves him, and having strong passions, and being unused to be controlled, is lost to a sense of honour and justice! Poor, poor lady!—Oh, these wicked masquerades! From them springs all my unhappiness. My Spaniard was too amiable, and met with a lady who was no nun, but in habit. Every one was taken with him in that habit, so suited to the natural dignity of his person.— Oh, these wicked, wicked masquerades!

I am all patience in appearance, all uneasiness in reality. I did not think I could, especially in this point, this most affecting point, be such a hypocrite. It has cost me― your ladyship knows not what it has cost me-to be able to assume that character? Yet my eyes are swelled with crying, and look red, although I am always breathing on

VOL. III.

L

my hand, and patting them with that, and my warm breath, to hide the distress that will, from my overcharged heart, appear in them.

Then he says, What's the matter with the little fool? You're always in this way of late! What ails you,

Pamela?

Only a little vapourish, sir!-Nasty vapours! Don't angry at me! Then Billy, I thought, was not very well!

be

This boy will spoil your temper. At this rate, what should be your joy, will become your misfortune. Don't receive me in this manner, I charge you.

In what manner, sir? I always receive you with a grateful heart! If anything troubles me, it is in your absence. But see, sir (then I try to smile and seem pleased), I am all sunshine now you are come !—Don't you see I am?

Yes, your sunshine of late is all through a cloud!—I know not what's the matter with you. Your temper will alter, and then

It shan't alter, sir-it shan't-if I can help it—and then I kissed his hand; that dear hand, that perhaps was last about his more beloved countess's neck-distracting reflection!

But come, maybe I think the worst!-To be sure I do! -For my apprehensions were ever aforehand with events; and bad must be the case, if it is worse than I think it! But it will ripen of itself; it is a corroding evil. It will increase to its crisis, and then it may dissipate happily, or end in death!

All that grieves me (for I have had the happiness of a whole life crowded thick upon me in a few past months, and so ought to be grateful for the good I have reaped) is for his own dear sake, for his soul's sake.-But, come, he is a young gentleman, and may see his error:-This may be a trial to him, as well as to me. And if he should con

quer it, what a charming thing would that be!

You command me to let you know what I have heard,

and how I came to hear it. I told your ladyship, in one of my former,* that two gentlemen, brought up to the law, but above the practice of it, though, I doubt, not above practices less honourable, had visited us on coming

to town.

They have been often here since, Mr. Turner particularly; and sometimes by himself, when Mr. B has happened to be out; and he it was, as I guessed, that gave me, at the wicked masquerade, the advice to look after my Musidorus.+

I did not like their visits, and his much less: for he seemed to me a man of an intriguing spirit. But about three weeks ago, Mr. B- setting out upon a party of pleasure to Oxford, he came, and pretending great business with me, and I happening to be at breakfast in the parlour, only Polly attending me, admitted him to drink a dish. of chocolate with me. And when Polly had stept out, he told me, after many apologies, that he had discovered who the nun was at the masquerade that had engaged Mr. B.

I said, it was very indifferent to me who the lady was. He replied (making still more apologies, and pretending great reluctance to speak out), that it was no less a lady than the young Countess Dowager of ———, a lady noted for her wit and her beauty; but of a gay disposition, though he believed not yet culpable.

I was alarmed, but would not let him see it; and he ran into the topic of the injustice of married men, who had virtuous wives, and gave themselves up to intrigues of this kind.

I remembered some of Mr. B's lessons formerly, of which I once gave your ladyship a transcript,‡ particularly that of drawing a kind veil over his faults, and extenuating those I could not hide, and still more particularly that caution that if ever rakes attempted a married woman, their encouragement proceeded from the slights and con+ Ibid. p. 120.

* See page 45.

See vol. ii. p. 95, et seq.