Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
I forced my discourse to the maid; but it was all upon general things;
for I find she is asked after every thing I say and do. When I came
near the place, as I had been devising, I said, Pray step to the
gardener, and ask him to gather a sallad for me to dinner. She called
out, Jacob! said I, He can’t hear you so far off; and pray tell him, I
should like a cucumber too, if he has one. When she had stept about a
bow-shot from me, I popt down, and whipt my fingers under the upper
tile, and pulled out a letter without direction, and thrust it in my
bosom, trembling for joy. She was with me, before I could well secure
it; and I was in such a taking that I feared I should discover myself.
You seem frightened, madam, said she; Why, said I, with a lucky
thought, (alas! your poor daughter will make an intriguer by and by;
but I hope an innocent one!) I stooped to smell at the sunflower, and a
great nasty worm ran into the ground, that startled me; for I can’t
abide worms. Said she, Sunflowers don’t smell. So I find, replied I.
And then we walked in; and Mrs. Jewkes said; Well, you have made haste
now.—You shall go another time.
I went up to my closet, locked myself in, and opening my letter, found
in it these words:
‘I am infinitely concerned for your distress. I most heartily wish it
may be in my power to serve and save so much innocence, beauty, and
merit. My whole dependance is upon Mr. B——, and I have a near view of
being provided for by his favour to me. But yet I would sooner forfeit
all my hopes in him, (trusting in God for the rest,) than not assist
you, if possible. I never looked upon Mr. B—— in the light he now
appears in to me, in your case. To be sure, he is no professed
debauchee. But I am entirely of opinion, you should, if possible, get
out of his hands; and especially as you are in very bad ones in Mrs.
Jewkes’s.
‘We have here the widow Lady Jones, mistress of a good fortune; and a
woman of virtue, I believe. We have also old Sir Simon Darnford, and
his lady, who is a good woman; and they have two daughters, virtuous
young ladies. All the rest are but middling people, and traders, at
best. I will try, if you please, either Lady Jones, or Lady Darnford,
if they’ll permit you to take refuge with them. I see no probability of
keeping myself concealed in this matter; but will, as I said, risk all
things to serve you; for I never saw a sweetness and innocence like
yours; and your hard case has attached me entirely to you; for I know,
as you so happily express, if I can serve you in this case, I shall
thereby perform all the acts of religion in one.
‘As to Lady Davers, I will convey a letter, if you please, to her; but
it must not be from our post-house, I give you caution; for the man
owes all his bread to Mr. B——, and his place too; and I believe, by
something that dropt from him, over a can of ale, has his instructions.
You don’t know how you are surrounded; all which confirms me in your
opinion, that no honour is meant you, let what will be professed; and I
am glad you want no caution on that head.
‘Give me leave to say, that I had heard much in your praise; but, I
think, greatly short of what you deserve, both as to person and mind:
My eyes convince me of the one, your letter of the other. For fear of
losing the present lucky opportunity, I am longer than otherwise I
should be. But I will not enlarge, any further than to assure you that
I am, to the best of my power,
‘Your faithful friend and servant,
‘ARTHUR WILLIAMS.’
‘I will come once every morning, and once every evening, after
school-time, to look for your letters. I’ll come in, and return without
going into the house, if I see the coast clear: Otherwise, to avoid
suspicion, I’ll come in.’
I instantly, in answer to this pleasing letter, wrote as follows:
‘REVEREND SIR,
‘O how suited to your function, and your character, is your kind
letter! God bless you for it! I now think I am beginning to be happy. I
should be sorry to have you suffer on my account: but I hope it will be
made up to you an hundred-fold, by that God whom you so faithfully
serve. I should be too happy, could I ever have it in my power to
contribute in the least to it. But, alas! to serve me, must be for
God’s sake only; for I am poor and lowly in fortune; though in mind, I
hope, too high to do a mean or unworthy deed to gain a kingdom. But I
lose time.——
‘Any way you think best, I should be pleased with; for I know not the
persons, nor in what manner it is best to apply to them. I am glad of
the hint you so kindly give me of the man at the post-house. I was
thinking of opening a way for myself by letter, when I could have
opportunity; but I see more and more that I am, indeed, strangely
surrounded with dangers; and that there is no dependance to be made on
my master’s honour.
‘I should think, sir, if either of those ladies would give leave, I
might some way get out by favour of your key: and as it is impossible,
watched as I am, to know when it can be, suppose, sir, you get one made
by it, and put it, the next opportunity, under the sunflower?—I am sure
no time is to be lost, because it is rather my wonder, that she is not
thoughtful about this key, than otherwise; for she forgets not the
minutest thing. But, sir, if I had this key, I could, if these ladies
would not shelter me, run away any where: and if I was once out of the
house, they could have no pretence to force me again; for I have done
no harm, and hope to make my story good to any compassionate body; and
by this way you need not to be known. Torture should not wring it from
me, I assure you.
‘One thing more, good sir. Have you no correspondence with my master’s
Bedfordshire family? By that means, may be, I could be informed of his
intention of coming hither, and when I enclose you a letter of a
deceitful wretch; for I can trust you with any thing; poor John Arnold.
Its contents will tell why I enclose it. Perhaps by his means,
something may be discovered; for he seems willing to atone for his
treachery to me, by the intimation of future service. I leave the hint
to you to improve upon, and am,
‘Reverend Sir,
‘Your for ever obliged, and thankful servant.’
‘I hope, sir, by your favour, I could send a little packet, now and
then, some how, to my poor father and mother. I have a little stock of
money, about five or six guineas: Shall I put half in your hands, to
defray the charge of a man and horse, or any other incidents?’
I had but just time to transcribe this, before I was called to dinner;
and I put that for Mr. Williams, with a wafer in it, in my bosom, to
get an opportunity to lay it in the dear place.
O good sirs, of all the flowers in the garden, the sunflower, sure, is
the loveliest!—It is a propitious one to me! How nobly my plot
succeeds! But I begin to be afraid my writings may be discovered; for
they grow large: I stitch them hitherto in my under-coat, next my
linen. But if this brute should search me—I must try to please her, and
then she won’t.
Well, I am but just come off from a walk in the garden, and have
deposited my letter by a simple wile. I got some horse-beans; and we
took a turn in the garden, to angle, as Mrs. Jewkes had promised me.
She baited the hook, and I held it, and soon hooked a lovely carp. Play
it, play it, said she: I did, and brought it to the bank. A sad thought
just then came into my head; and I took it, and threw it in again; and
O the pleasure it seemed to have, to flounce in, when at liberty!—Why
this? says she. O Mrs. Jewkes! said I, I was thinking this poor carp
was the unhappy Pamela. I was likening you and myself to my naughty
master. As we hooked and deceived the poor carp, so was I betrayed by
false baits; and when you said, Play it, play it, it went to my heart,
to think I should sport with the destruction of the poor fish I had
betrayed; and I could not but fling it in again: and did you not see
the joy with which the happy carp flounced from us? O! said I, may some
good merciful body procure me my liberty in the same manner; for to be
sure, I think my danger equal!
Lord bless thee! said she, what a thought is there!—Well, I can angle
no more, added I. I’ll try my fortune, said she, and took the rod. Do,
answered I; and I will plant life, if I can, while you are destroying
it. I have some horse-beans here, and will go and stick them in one of
the borders, to see how long they will be coming up; and I will call
them my garden.
So you see, dear father and mother, (I hope now you will soon see; for,
may be, if I can’t get away so soon myself, I may send my papers some
how; I say you will see,) that this furnishes me with a good excuse to
look after my garden another time; and if the mould should look a
little freshish, it won’t be so much suspected. She mistrusted nothing
of this; and I went and stuck in here and there my beans, for about the
length of five ells, of each side of the sunflower; and easily
deposited my letter. And not a little proud am I of this contrivance.
Sure something will do at last!
Friday, Saturday.
I have just now told you a trick of mine; now I’ll tell you a trick of
this wicked woman’s. She comes up to me: Says she, I have a bill I
cannot change till to-morrow; and a tradesman wants his money most
sadly: and I don’t love to turn poor trades-folks away without their
money: Have you any about you? I have a little, replied I: How much
will do? Oh! said she, I want eight pounds. Alack! said I, I have but
between five and six. Lend me that, said she, till to-morrow. I did so;
and she went down stairs: and when she came up, she laughed, and said,
Well, I have paid the tradesman. Said I, I hope you’ll give it me again
to-morrow. At that, the assurance, laughing loud, said, Why, what
occasion have you for money? To tell you the truth, lambkin, I didn’t
want it. I only feared you might make a bad use of it; and now I can
trust Nan with you a little oftener, especially as I have got the key
of your portmanteau; so that you can neither corrupt her with money,
nor fine things. Never did any body look more silly than I.—O how I
fretted, to be so foolishly outwitted!—And the more, as I had hinted to
Mr. Williams, that I would put some in his hands to defray the charges
of my sending to you. I cried for vexation.—And now I have not five
shillings left to support me, if I can get away.—Was ever such a fool
as I! I must be priding myself in my contrivances, indeed! said I. Was
this your instructions, wolfkin? (for she called me lambkin). Jezebel,
you mean, child! said she.—Well, I now forgive you heartily; let’s buss
and be friends.—Out upon you said I; I cannot bear you!—But I durst not
call her names again; for I dread her huge paw most sadly. The more I
think of this thing, the more do I regret it, and blame myself.
This night the man from the post-house brought a letter for Mrs.
Jewkes, in which was one enclosed for me: She brought it me up. Said
she, Well, my good master don’t forget us. He has sent you a letter:
and see what he writes to me. So she read, That he hoped her fair
charge was well, happy, and contented. Ay, to be sure, said I, I can’t
choose—That he did not doubt her care and kindness to me: that I was
very dear to him, and she could not use me too well; and the like.
There’s a master for you! said she: sure you will love and pray for
him. I desired her to read the rest. No, no, said she, but I won’t.
Said I, Are there any orders for taking my shoes away, and for beating
me? No, said she, nor about Jezebel neither. Well, returned I, I cry
truce; for I have no mind to be beat again. I thought, said she, we had
forgiven one another.
My letter is as follows:
‘MY DEAR PAMELA,
‘I begin to repent already, that I have bound myself, by promise, not