fact; and if God hears my prayers, never will, for all three of our sakes.

But, madam, think for me, what a task I have! How my heart throbs in my bosom ! How I tremble! How I struggle with myself! What rules I form for my behaviour. to this naughty lady! How they are dashed in pieces as soon as formed, and new ones taken up! And yet I doubt myself when I come to the test.

But one thing will help me: I pity the poor lady; and as she comes with the heart of a robber, to invade me in my lawful right, I pride myself in a superiority over this countess ; and will endeavour to show her the country girl in a light which would better become her to appear in.

I must be forced to leave off here: for Mr. B― is just come in to receive his guests; and I am in a sad flutter upon it. All my resolution fails me. What shall I do!—Oh, that this countess was come, and gone!-I tremble so, that I shall behave like a guilty one before the guilty, who will enjoy their minds, I'll warrant, as if they were innocent!— Why should that be!-But surely, if all was bad as this Turner has said, they could not act thus barbarously by me! For I have not deserved to be given up to be insulted! I hope I have not for what have I done?

I have one comfort, however, in the midst of all my griefs; and that is in your ladyship's goodness, which gives me leave to assume the honoured title, that, let what will happen, will always give me equal pride and pleasure, in subscribing myself

Your ladyship's obliged sister,

And humble servant,
P. B——.

LETTER LXXII.

Mrs. B to Lady Davers.

MY DEAR LADY, I will now pursue my last affecting subject; for the visit is over; but a sad situation I am in with Mr. B for all that: But bad as it is, I'll try to forget it till I come to it in course.

came in to receive He came up to me. put it up, and set

At four in the afternoon Mr. Bhis guests, whom he expected at five. I had just closed my last letter; but before me your ladyship's play subjects. So, Pamela !-How do you do now? Your ladyship may guess, by what I wrote before, that I could not give any extraordinary account of myself.-As well—as well, sir, as possible.-Half out of breath.

You give yourself strange melancholy airs of late, my dear. You don't do well.-All that cheerfulness, which used to delight me whenever I saw you, I'm sorry for it, is quite vanished of late—you and I must shortly have a little serious talk together.

When you please, sir-I believe it is only not being used to this smoky thick air of London!—I shall be better when you carry me into the country.—I daresay I shall.—But I never was in London so long before, you know, sir.

All in good time, Pamela!-But is this the best appearance you choose to make to receive such guests?

If it displease you, sir, I will dress otherwise in a minute. You look well in anything. But I thought you'd have been better dressed.-Yet it would never have less become you for of late your eyes have lost that brilliancy that used to strike me with a lustre much surpassing that of the finest diamonds.

I

am sorry for it, sir. But as I never could pride my

self in deserving such a kind compliment, I should be too happy (forgive me, my dearest Mr. B—), if the failure be not rather in your eyes than in mine.

He looked at me steadfastly.-I fear, Pamela-but don't be a fool.

You are angry with me, sir!

No, not I.

Would you have me dress better?

No, not I. If your eyes looked a little more brilliant, you want no addition.

Down he went.

Strange, short speeches these, my lady, to what you have heard from his dear mouth!-Yet they shall not rob me of the merit of a patient sufferer, I am resolved, thought I.

Now, my lady, as I doubted not my rival would come adorned with every outward ornament, I put on only a white damask gown, having no desire to vie with her in appearance; for a virtuous and honest heart is my glory, I bless God! I wish the countess had the same to boast of! About five, their ladyships came in the countess's new chariot; for she has not been long out of her transitory mourning, and dressed as rich as jewels, and a profusion of expense, could make her.

I saw them from the window alight. Oh, how my heart throbbed!--Lie still, said I, busy thing! Why all this emotion? - Those shining ornaments cover not such a guileless flutterer as thou. Why then all this emotion? Polly Barlow came up instantly from Mr. B

I hastened down: tremble, tremble, tremble, went my feet, in spite of all the resolution I had been endeavouring so long to collect together.

Mr. B

presented the countess to me, both of us covered with blushes; but from very different motives, as I imagine.

She saluted me, and looked, as I thought, half with envy, half with shame: But one is apt to form people's countenances by what one judges of their hearts.

Oh too lovely, too charming rival! thought I-Would to Heaven I saw less attraction in you!-For indeed, indeed, madam, she is a charming lady!-Yet she could not help

calling me Mrs. B-; that was some pride to me; every little distinction is a pride to me now-and said, she hoped I would excuse the liberty she had taken: but the character given of me by Mr. B― made her desirous of paying her respects to me.

Oh these villainous masquerades! thought I.-You would never have wanted to see me, but for them, poor naughty nun, that was !

Mr. B

presented also the viscountess to me: I saluted her ladyship; her sister saluted me.

She is a graceful lady; better, as I hope, in heart, but not equal in person to her sister.

You have a charming boy, I am told, madam; but no wonder from such a pair!

Oh dear heart, thought I, i'n't it so !-Your ladyship may guess what I thought further.

Will your ladyship see him now? said Mr. B

He did not look down, no, not one bit!-though the countess played with her fan, and looked at him, and looked at me, and then looked down by turns a little consciously; while I wrapt up myself in my innocence, my first flutters being over, and thought I was superior, by reason of that, even to a countess.

With all her heart, she said.

I rang. Polly, bid nurse bring my Billy down-my, said I with an emphasis.

I met the nurse at the stairs foot, and brought in my dear baby in my arms. Such a child, and such a mamma!

said the viscountess.

Will you give master to my arms one moment, madam ? said the countess.

Yes, thought I, much rather than my dear naughty gentleman should any other.

I yielded it to her: I thought she would have stifled it with her warm kisses. Sweet boy! Charming creature! And pressed it to her too lovely bosom with such emotion, looking on the child, and on Mr. B, that I liked it not by any means.

VOL. III.

M

Go, you naughty lady! thought I:-but I durst not say so. And go, naughty man, too! thought I; for you seem to look too much gratified in your pride, by her fondness for your boy. I wish I did not love you so well as I do!— But neither, your ladyship may believe, did I say this.

Mr. Blooked at me, but with a bravery, I thought, too like what I had been a witness to in some former scenes, in as bad a cause. But, thought I, GOD delivered me then I will confide in Him-He will now, I doubt not, restore thy heart to my prayers; untainted, I hope, for thy own dear sake as well as mine.

The viscountess took the child from her sister, and kissed him with great pleasure. She is a married lady. Would to God the countess was so too! for Mr. B never corresponded, as I told your ladyship once,* with married ladies: So I was not afraid of her love to my Billy. But let me, said the viscountess, have the pleasure of restoring master to his charming mamma. I thought, added she, I never saw a lovelier sight in my life, than when in his mamma's arms.

Why, I can't say, said the countess, but master and his mamma do credit to one another. Dear madam, let us have the pleasure of seeing him still on your lap, while he is so good.

I wondered the dear baby was so quiet; though indeed he is generally so: but he might surely, if but by sympathy, have complained for his poor mamma, though she durst not for herself.

How apt one is to engage everything in one's distress, when it is deep! And one wonders, too, that things animate and inanimate look with the same face, when we are greatly moved by any extraordinary and interesting event!

I sat down with my baby on my lap, looking, I believe, with a righteous boldness (I will call it so; for well says the text, The righteous is as bold as a lion!) now on my Billy, now on his papa, and now on the countess, with * See her Journal of Saturday morning, vol. ii. p. 362.