ing, and not knowing what to do, I passed the time in my chamber till evening; when, desiring to be excused going to supper, Mrs. Jervis came up to me, and said, Why must I sup with out you, Pamela? Come, I see you are troubled at something: tell me what is the matter.' · I begged I might be permitted to lie with her on nights; for I was afraid of spirits, and they would not hurt such a good person as she. That was a silly excuse,' she said; for why were you not afraid of spirits before?' Indeed I did not think of that. 'But you shall be my bedfellow with all my heart,' added she, let your reason be what it will; only come down to supper.' I begged to be excused,For,' said I, I have been crying so, that it will be taken notice of by my fellow-servants: and I will hide nothing from you, Mrs. Jervis, when we are alone.' 6 She was so good as to indulge me; but made haste to bed; and told the servants that I should lie with her, because she could not rest well, and would get me to read her to sleep; for she knew I loved reading, she said. When we were alone, I told her all that had passed; for I thought, though he had bid me not, yet if he should come to know I had told, it would be no worse; for to keep a secret of such a nature, would be, as I apprehended, to deprive myself of the good advice which I never wanted more; and might encourage him to think I did not resent it as I ought, and would keep worse secrets, and so make him do worse by me. Was I right, my dear mother? Mrs. Jervis could not help mingling tears with my tears; for I cried all the time I was telling her my story, and begged her to advise me what to do; and I shewed her my dear father's two letters, and she praised the honesty and inditing of them, and said pleasing things to me of you both. Bat she begged I would not think of leaving my service; For,' says she, in all likelihood, you behaved so virtuously, that he will be ashamed of what he has done, and never offer the like to you again: though, my dear Pamela,' said she, I fear more for your prettiness than for any thing else; because the best man in the land might love you 80 she was pleased to say-She wished it was in her power to live independent; ་ then she would take a little private house, and I should live with her like her daughter. And so, as you ordered me to take her advice, I resolved to tarry to see how things went, except he was to turn me away; although, in your first letter, you ordered me to come away the moment I had any reason to be apprehensive. So, dear father and mother, it is not disobedience, I hope, that I stay; for I could not expect a blessing, or the good fruits of your prayers for me, if I was disobedient. All the next day I was very sad, and began my long letter. He saw me writing, and said (as I mentioned) to Mrs. Jervis, "That girl is always scribbling; methinks she might find something else to do,' or to that purpose. And when I had finished my letter, I put it under the toilet, in my late lady's dressingroom, whither nobody comes but myself and Mrs. Jervis, besides my master; but wheu I came up again to seal it, to my great concern, it was gone; and Mrs. Jervis knew nothing of it; and nobody knew of my master's having been near the place in the time; so I have been sadly troubled about it: but Mrs. Jervis, as well as I, thinks he has it, for he appears cross and angry, and seems to shun me, as much as he said I did him.' It had better be so than worse! But he has ordered Mrs. Jervis to bid me not pass so much time in writing; which is a poor matter for such a gentleman as he to take notice of, as I am not idle other-ways, if he did not resent what I wrote upon. And this has no very good look. But I am a good deal easier since I lie with Mrs. Jervis ; though after all the fears I live in on one side, and his frowning and displeasure at what I do on the other, make me more miserable than enough. O that I had never left my little bed in the loft, to be thus exposed to temptations on one hand, or disgust on the other! How happy was I awhile ago! How contrary now! Pity and pray for your afflicted LETTER XIII. MY DEAREST CHILD, PAMELA OUR hearts bleed for your distress, and the temptations vou are exposed to. You have our hourly prayers; and we would nåve you nes this evil great house and man, if you find he renews offer any thing to her in such an orderly his attempts. You ought to have done and well-governed house as yours, and it at first, had you not had Mrs. Jervis under a master of so good a character to advise with. We can find no fault for virtue and honour?'- Your serin your conduct hitherto but it makes vant, Mrs. Jervis,' says he, for your our hearts ach for fear of the worst. O good opinion; but pray, if any body my child! temptations are sore things; did, do you think Pamela would let but yet, without them, we know not you know of it? Why, Sir,' said ourselves, nor what we are able to do. she, she is a poor innocent young Your danger is great; you have creature, and I believe has so much riches, youth, and a fine gentleman to confidence in me, that she would take withstand; but how great will be your my advice as soon as she would her mohonour to withstand them! When we ther's.'-Innocent! again; and virtuconsider your past conduct, your virtu- ous, I warrant! Well, Mrs. Jervis, ous education, and that you have been you abound with your epithets; but I bred to be more ashamed of dishonesty take her to be an artful young baggage; than poverty, we trust in God, that He and had I a young handsome butler or will enable you to overcome. Yet, as steward, she'd soon make her market we cannot see but your life must be,a of one of them, if she thought it worth burden to you, through the great appre- while to snap at him for a husband.'hensions always upon you; and it may Alack-a-day, Sir!' said she, be presumptuous to trust too much to your own strength; you are but very young; and the devil may put it into his heart to use some stratagems, of which great men are full, to decoy you; I think you had better come home to share our poverty with safety, than live with so much discontent in a plenty that may be dangerous. God direct you for the best! While you have Mrs. Jervis for an adviser and -bedfellow, (and, O my dear child, that was prudently done of you!) we are easier than we should be, and so, committing you to the Divine Protection, remain your truly loving, but careful, father and mother. LETTER XIV. DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER, MRS. JERVIS and I have lived very comfortably together for this fortnight; my master was all that time at his Lincolnshire estate, and at his sister's the Lady Davers. He came home yesterday, and had some talk with Mrs. Jervis soon after, mostly about me. He said to her, 'Well, Mrs. Jervis, I know Pamela has your good word; but do you think her of any use in the family?' She told me, she was surprised at the question, but said, that I was one of the most virtuous and industrious young creatures she ever knew. Why that word virtuous.' said he,' I pray you? Was there any reason to suppose her otherwise; or has any body taken it into his head to try her?—I wonder, Sir,' says she, you ask such a question! Who dare 'tis early days with Pamela; and she does you ought never to mention but with reverence and gratitude; what would you say to that?' Say, Sir!' said she! I cannot tell what to say. But I hope Pamela incapable of such ingratitude.' 'Well, no more of this silly girl,' says he. You may only advise her, as you are her friend, not to give herself too much licence upon the favours she meets with; and, if she stays here, that she will not write the affairs of my family purely for an exercise to her pen and her invention. I tell you, she is a subtle, artful gipsey, and time will shew it you.' Was ever the like heard, my dear father and mother? It is plain he did not expect to meet with such a repulse, and mistrusts that I have told Mrs. Jervis, and has my long letter too, that I inended for you; and so is vexed to the heart. But I can't help it. I had better be thought artful and subtle, than be so, in his sense: and as light as he makes of the words virtus and innocence in me, he would have made a less angry construction, had I less deserved that he should do so; for then, may be, my crime would have been my virtue with him; naughty gentleman as he is !— I will soon write again, but must end with saying, that I am, and shall always be, your honest daughter. LETTER XV. DEAR MOTHER, : I BROKE off abruptly my last letter; for I feared he was coming and so it happened. I put the letter in my bosom, and took up my work, which lay by me; but I had so little of the artful, as he called it, that I looked as confused as if I had been doing some great harm. and 'Sit still, Pamela,' said he, mind your work, for all me.--You don't tell me I am welcome home, after my journey to Lincolnshire.-'It would be hard. Sir,' said I, if you were not always welcome to your honour's own house.' I would have gone; but he said, 'Don't run away, I tell you, I have a word or two to say to you.' Good Sirs, how my heart went pit-a-pat! When I was a little kind to you,' said be, in the summer-house, and you carried yourself so foolishly upon it, as if I had intended to do you great harm, did I not tell you you should take no notice of what passed, to any creature? and yet you have made a common talk of the matter, not considering either my reputation or your own.' I made a common talk of it, Sir!' said I: 'I have nobody to talk to, hardly.' He interrupted me and said, ' Hardly! you little equivocator! what do you mean by hardly? Let me ask you, have not you told Mrs. Jervis for one' -Pray, your honour,' said I, all in agitation, let me go down for it is not for me to hold an argument with your honour.- Equivocator, again!' said he, and took my hand, what do you talk of an argument? Is it holding an argument with me to answer a plain question? Answer me what I asked.' -- 'O, good Sir,' said I, 'let me beg you will not urge me farther, for fear Ï forget myself again, and be saucy!' Answer me, then, I bid you!' says he: have you not told Mrs. Jervis ? It will be saucy in you, if you don't answer me directly to what I ask.'Sir,' said I, and fain would have pulled my hand away, perhaps I should be for answering you by another question, and that would not become me.'- What is it you would say?' replies he; speak out.' · 'Then, Sir,' said I, 'why should your honour be so angry, I should tell Mrs. Jervis, or any body else, what passed, if you intended no harm?' 'Well said, pretty innocent and artless! as Mrs. Jervis calls you,' said he; and it is thus you taunt and retort upon me, insolent as you are! But still I will be answered directly to my question.' Why, then Sir,' said I, I will not tell a lie for the world: I did tell Mrs. Jervis; for my heart was almost broken: but I opened not my mouth to any other, Very well, bold-face,' said he, and equivocator again; You did not open your mouth to any other; but did you not write to some other? Why now, and please your honour,' said I, (for I was quite courageous just then) you could not have asked me this question, if you had not taken from me my letter to my father and mother, in which I own I opened my mind freely to them, and asked their advice, and poured forth my griefs!' And so I am to be exposed, am I,' said he, in my own house, and out of my house, to the whole world, by such a saucebox as you?'- No, good Sir,' said I; and I hope your honour won't be angry with me: it is not I that expose you, if I say nothing but the truth.' So, taunting again! Assurance as you are!' said he, I will not be thus talked to!" Pray, Sir,' said I, of whom can a poor girl take advice, if it must not be of her father and mother, and such a good woman as Mrs. Jervis?'-Insolent!' said he, and stamped with his foot, am I to be questioned thus by such a one as you?' I fell down on my knees, and said, For heaven's sake, your honour, pity a poor creature, that knows nothing of her duty, but how to cherish her virtue and good name! I have nothing else to trust to; and, though poor and friendless, yet I have always been taught to value honesty above my life.' Here's ado with your honesty,' said he, 'foolish girl! Is it not one part of honesty to be dutiful and grateful to your master, do you think?' - Indeed, Sir,' said, I, 'it is impossible I should be ungrateful to your honour, or disobedient, or deserve the names of Bold-face and Insolent, which you call me, but when your commands are contrary to that first duty which thall ever be the principle of my life?' He seemed to be moved, and rose up, and walked into the great chamber two or three turns, leaving me on my knees; I threw my apron over my face, and laid my head on a chair, and cried as my heart would break, having no power to stir. At last he came in again; but, alas! with mischief in his heart, and raising me up, he said, 'Rise, Pamela, rise; you are your own enemy. Your perverse folly will be your ruin. I tell you this, that I am very much displeased with the freedoms you have taken with my name to my housekeeper, as also to your father and mother; and you may as well have real cause to make these freedoms with me, as to make my name suffer for imaginary ones.' And saying 30, he offered to take me on his knee, with some force. O how I was terrified! I said, like as I had read in a book a night or two before, Angels and saints, and all the host of heaven, defend me! And may I never survive, one moment, that fatal one in which I shall forfeit my innocence.'—' Pretty fool!' said he, 'how will you forfeit your innocence, if you are obliged to yield to a force you cannot withstand? Be easy,' said he : for, let the worst happen that can, you'll have the merit, and I the blame; and it will be a good subject for letters 6 to your father and mother, and a tale into the bargain for Mrs. Jervis.' · He by force kissed my neck and lips; and said, Who ever blamed Lucretia! All the shame lay on the ravisher only: and I am content to take all the blame upon me; as I have already borne too great a share for what I have deserved.' May I,' said I, Lucretia-like, justify myself with my death, if I am used barbarously?'-' O my good girl,' said he, tauntingly, 'you are well read, I see; and we shall make out between us, before we have done, a pretty story in romance, I warrant ye.' He then put his hand in my bosom, and indignation gave me double strength, and I got loose from him by a sudden spring, and ran out of the room; and the next chamber being open, I entered it, shut to the door, and it locked after me but he followed me so close, he got hold of my gown, and tore a piece off, which hung without the door; for the key was on the inside. I just remember I got into the room; for I knew nothing further of the matter till afterwards; for I fell into a fit with my terror, and there I lay, till he, as I suppose, looking through the keyhole, spied me upon the floor, stretched out at length, on my face; and then he called Mrs. Jervis to me, who, by his assistance, bursting open the door, he went away, seeing me coming to myself; and bid her say nothing of the matter, if she was wise. Poor Mrs. Jervis thought it was worse, and cried over me like as if she was my mother; and I was two hours before I came to myself; and just as I got a little upon my feet, he coming in, I fainted away again with the terror; and so he withdrew; but he staid in the next room to let nobody come near us, that his foul proceedings might not be known. Mrs. Jervis gave me her smelling bot. tle, and had cut my laces, and set me in a great chair, he called her to him. How is the girl?' said he: I never saw such a fool in my life. I did nothing to her.' Mrs. Jervis could not speak for crying. So,' he said, she has told you, it seems, that I was kind to her in the summer-house, though I'll assure you, I was quite innocent then as well as now and I desire you to keep this matter to yourself, and let me not be named in it. O, Sir, said she, for your honour's sake, and for Christ's sake!" But he would not hear her, and said, For your own sake, I tell you, Mrs. Jervis, say not a word more. I have done her no harm. And I won't have her stay in my house; prating, perverse fool, as she is! But since she is so apt to fall into fits, or at least pretend to do so, prepare her to see me to-morrow after dinner, in my mother's closet; do you be with her, and you shall hear what passes between us." And so he went out in a pet, and ordered his chariot and four to be got ready, and went a visiting somewhere. Mrs. Jervis then came to me; I told her all that had happened, and said I was resolved not to stay in the house: and she replying-He seemed to threaten as much; I said, 'I am glad of that; then I shall be easy.' So she told me all he had said to her, as above. Mrs. Jervis is very loath I should go; and yet, poor woman, she begins to be afraid for herself; but would not have me ruined for the world. She says, to be sure he means no good; but may be, now he sees me so resolute, he will give over all attempts: and that I shall better know what to do after to-morrow, when I am to appear before a very bad judge, I doubt. O how I dread this to-morrow's appearance! But be assured, my dear parents, of the honesty of your poor child, as I am of your prayers for your dutiful daughter. O this frightful to-morrow! how I dread it! LETTER XVI. MY DEAR PARENTS, I KNOW you longed to hear from me soon; and I send you as soon as I could. Well, you may believe how uneasily I passed the time till his appointed hour came. Every minute, as it grew nearer, my terrors increased; and sometimes I had great courage, and sometimes none at all; and I thought I should faint when it came to the time my master had dined, I could neither eat nor drink, for my part; and do what I could, my eyes were swelled with crying. At last he went up to the closet, which was my good lady's dressing room; a room I once loved, but then as much hated. Don't your heart ach for me? I am sure mine fluttered about like a new caught bird in a cage. O Pamela,' said I to myself, 'why art thou so foolish and fearful? Thou hast done no harm! What, if thou fearest an unjust judge, when thou art innocent, wouldst thou do before a just one, if thou wert guilty? Have courage, Pamela; thou knowest the worst! And how easy a choice poverty and honesty is, rather than plenty and wickedness.' So I cheered myself, but yet my poor heart sunk, and my spirits were quite broken. Every thing that stirred, I thought was to call me to my account. I dreaded it, and yet I wished it to 6 come. Well, at last he rung the bell; 0,' thought I, that it was my passing-bell !' Mrs. Jervis went up, with a full heart enough, poor good woman! He said, Where's Pamela! Let her come up; and do you come with her.' She came to me: I was ready to go; but my heart was with my dear father and mother, wishing to share your poverty and happiness. I went up, however. O how can wicked men seem so steady and untouched with such black hearts while poor innocents stand like malefactors before them! He looked so stern that my heart failed me, and I wished myself any where but there, though I had before been summoning up all my courage. 'Good heaven,' said I to myself, 'give me courage to stand before this naughty master! O soften him, or harden me!' Come in, fool!' said he, angrily, (and snatched my hand with a pull ;) you may well be ashamed to see me after your noise and nonsense, and exposing me as you have done.'-'I ashamed to see you!' thought I'very pretty, indeed!' But I said nothing. 'Mrs. Jervis,' said he, here you are both together. Do you sit down; but let her stand, if she will. Aye,' thought I, if I can;' for my knees beat one against the other. Did you not think, when you saw the girl in the way you found her, that I had given her the greatest occasion for complaint that could possibly be given to a woman? And that I had actually ruined her, as she calls it? Tell me, could you think any thing less?'-' Indeed,' said she, 'I feared so at first.'-' Has she told you what I did to her, and all I did to her, to occasion all this folly, by which my reputation might have suffered in your opinion, and in that of all the family; inform me what she has told you?' |