Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
him; but yet, when I heard his danger, which was very great, I could
not in my heart forbear rejoicing for his safety; though his death
would have ended my afflictions. Ungenerous master! if you knew this,
you surely would not be so much my persecutor! But, for my late good
lady’s sake, I must wish him well; and O what an angel would he be in
my eyes yet, if he would cease his attempts, and reform!
Well, I hear by Mrs. Jewkes, that John Arnold is turned away, being
detected in writing to Mr. Williams; and that Mr. Longman, and Mr.
Jonathan the butler, have incurred his displeasure, for offering to
speak in my behalf. Mrs. Jervis too is in danger; for all these three,
probably, went together to beg in my favour; for now it is known where
I am.
Mrs. Jewkes has, with the news about my master, received a letter: but
she says the contents are too bad for me to know. They must be bad
indeed, if they be worse than what I have already known.
Just now the horrid creature tells me, as a secret, that she has reason
to think he has found out a way to satisfy my scruples: It is, by
marrying me to this dreadful Colbrand, and buying me of him on the
wedding day, for a sum of money!—Was ever the like heard?—She says it
will be my duty to obey my husband; and that Mr. Williams will be
forced, as a punishment, to marry us; and that, when my master has paid
for me, and I am surrendered up, the Swiss is to go home again, with
the money, to his former wife and children; for, she says, it is the
custom of those people to have a wife in every nation.
But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing! Yet, abominable as it is, it
may possibly serve to introduce some plot now hatching!—With what
strange perplexities is my poor mind agitated! Perchance, some
sham-marriage may be designed, on purpose to ruin me; But can a husband
sell his wife against her own consent?—And will such a bargain stand
good in law?
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, the 32d, 33d, and 34th days of my
imprisonment.
Nothing offers these days but squabblings between Mrs. Jewkes and me.
She grows worse and worse to me. I vexed her yesterday, because she
talked nastily; and told her she talked more like a vile London
prostitute, than a gentleman’s housekeeper; and she thinks she cannot
use me bad enough for it. Bless me! she curses and storms at me like a
trooper, and can hardly keep her hands off me. You may believe she must
talk sadly, to make me say such harsh words: indeed it cannot be
repeated; as she is a disgrace to her sex. And then she ridicules me,
and laughs at my notions of honesty; and tells me, impudent creature as
she is! what a fine bed-fellow I shall make for my master (and
such-like), with such whimsical notions about me!—Do you think this is
to be borne? And yet she talks worse than this, if possible! quite
filthily! O what vile hands am I put into!
Thursday.
I have now all the reason that can be, to apprehend my master will be
here soon; for the servants are busy in setting the house to rights;
and a stable and coach-house are cleaning out, that have not been used
some time. I asked Mrs. Jewkes; but she tells me nothing, nor will
hardly answer me when I ask her a question. Sometimes I think she puts
on these strange wicked airs to me, purposely to make me wish for, what
I dread most of all things, my master’s coming down. He talk of
love!—If he had any the least notion of regard for me, to be sure he
would not give this naughty body such power over me:—And if he does
come, where is his promise of not seeing me without I consent to it?
But, it seems, his honour owes me nothing! So he tells me in his
letter. And why? Because I am willing to keep mine. But, indeed, he
says, he hates me perfectly: But it is plain he does, or I should not
be left to the mercy of this woman: and, what is worse, to my woful
apprehensions.
Friday, the 36th day of my imprisonment.
I took the liberty yesterday afternoon, finding the gates open, to walk
out before the house; and, ere I was aware, had got to the bottom of
the long row of elms; and there I sat myself down upon the steps of a
sort of broad stile, which leads into the road, and goes towards the
town. And as I sat musing upon what always busies my mind, I saw a
whole body of folks running towards me from the house, men and women,
as in a fright. At first I wondered what was the matter, till they came
nearer; and I found they were all alarmed, thinking I had attempted to
get off. There was first the horrible Colbrand, running with his long
legs, well nigh two yards at a stride; then there was one of the
grooms, poor Mr. Williams’s robber; then I spied Nan, half out of
breath, and the cook-maid after her! and lastly, came waddling, as fast
as she could, Mrs. Jewkes, exclaiming most bitterly, as I found,
against me. Colbrand said, O how have you frighted us all!—And went
behind me, lest I should run away, as I suppose.
I sat still, to let them see I had no view to get away; for, besides
the improbability of succeeding, my last sad attempt has cured me of
enterprising again. And when Mrs. Jewkes came within hearing, I found
her terribly incensed, and raving about my contrivances. Why, said I,
should you be so concerned? Here I have sat a few minutes, and had not
the least thought of getting away, or going farther; but to return as
soon as it was duskish. She would not believe me; and the barbarous
creature struck at me with her horrid fist, and, I believe, would have
felled me, had not Colbrand interposed, and said, He saw me sitting
still, looking about me, and not seeming to have the least inclination
to stir. But this would not serve: She ordered the two maids to take me
each by an arm, and lead me back into the house, and up stairs; and
there have I been locked up ever since, without shoes. In vain have I
pleaded, that I had no design, as indeed I had not the least; and last
night I was forced to be between her and Nan; and I find she is
resolved to make a handle of this against me, and in her own
behalf.—Indeed, what with her usage, and my own apprehensions of still
worse, I am quite weary of my life.
Just now she has been with me, and given me my shoes, and has laid her
imperious commands upon me, to dress myself in a suit of clothes out of
the portmanteau, which I have not seen lately, against three or four
o’clock; for she says, she is to have a visit from Lady Darnford’s two
daughters, who come purposely to see me; and so she gave me the key of
the portmanteau. But I will not obey her; and I told her, I would not
be made a show of, nor see the ladies. She left me, saying, it would be
worse for me, if I did not. But how can that be?
Five o’clock is come,
And no young ladies!—So that I fancy—But hold! I hear their coach, I
believe. I’ll step to the window.—I won’t go down to them, I am
resolved—
Good sirs! good sirs! What will become of me! Here is my master come in
his fine chariot!—Indeed he is! What shall I do? Where shall I hide
myself?—O! What shall I do? Pray for me! But oh! you’ll not see
this!—Now, good God of heaven, preserve me; if it be thy blessed will!
Seven o’clock.
Though I dread to see him, yet do I wonder I have not. To be sure
something is resolved against me, and he stays to hear all her stories.
I can hardly write; yet, as I can do nothing else, I know not how to
forbear!—Yet I cannot hold my pen—How crooked and trembling the
lines!—I must leave off, till I can get quieter fingers!—Why should the
guiltless tremble so, when the guilty can possess their minds in peace?
Saturday morning.
Now let me give you an account of what passed last night: for I had no
power to write, nor yet opportunity till now.
This vile woman held my master till half an hour after seven; and he
came hither about five in the afternoon. And then I heard his voice on
the stairs, as he was coming up to me. It was about his supper; for he
said, I shall choose a boiled chicken with butter and parsley.—And up
he came!
He put on a stern and majestic air; and he can look very majestic when
he pleases. Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful runaway, said he, for my
first salutation!—You do well, don’t you, to give me all this trouble
and vexation! I could not speak; but throwing myself on the floor, hid
my face, and was ready to die with grief and apprehension.—He said,
Well may you hide your face! well may you be ashamed to see me, vile
forward one, as you are!—I sobbed and wept, but could not speak. And he
let me lie, and went to the door, and called Mrs. Jewkes.—There, said
he, take up that fallen angel!—Once I thought her as innocent as an
angel of light but I have now no patience with her. The little
hypocrite prostrates herself thus, in hopes to move my weakness in her
favour, and that I’ll raise her from the floor myself. But I shall not
touch her: No, said he, cruel gentleman as he was! let such fellows as
Williams be taken in by her artful wiles! I know her now, and see she
is for any fool’s turn, that will be caught by her.
I sighed, as if my heart would break!—And Mrs. Jewkes lifted me up upon
my knees; for I trembled so, I could not stand. Come, said she, Mrs.
Pamela, learn to know your best friend; confess your unworthy
behaviour, and beg his honour’s forgiveness of all your faults. I was
ready to faint: And he said, She is mistress of arts, I’ll assure you;
and will mimic a fit, ten to one, in a minute.
I was struck to the heart at this; but could not speak presently; only
lifted up my eyes to heaven!—And at last made shift to say—God forgive
you, sir!—He seemed in a great passion, and walked up and down the
room, casting sometimes an eye upon me, and seeming as if he would have
spoken, but checked himself—And at last he said, When she has acted
this her first part over, perhaps I will see her again, and she shall
soon know what she has to trust to.
And so he went out of the room: And I was quite sick at heart!—Surely,
said I, I am the wickedest creature that ever breathed! Well, said the
impertinent, not so wicked as that neither; but I am glad you begin to
see your faults. Nothing like being humble!—Come, I’ll stand your
friend, and plead for you, if you’ll promise to be more dutiful for the
future: Come, come, added the wretch, this may be all made up by
to-morrow morning, if you are not a fool.—Begone, hideous woman! said
I, and let not my affliction be added to by thy inexorable cruelty, and
unwomanly wickedness.
She gave me a push, and went away in a violent passion: And it seems,
she made a story of this; and said, I had such a spirit, there was no
bearing it.
I laid me down on the floor, and had no power to stir, till the clock
struck nine: and then the wicked woman came up again. You must come
down stairs, said she, to my master; that is, if you please,
spirit!—Said I, I believe I cannot stand. Then, said she, I’ll send
Mons. Colbrand to carry you down.
I got up as well as I could, and trembled all the way down stairs: And
she went before me into the parlour; and a new servant that he had
waiting on him, instead of John, withdrew as soon as I came in: And, by
the way, he had a new coachman too, which looked as if Bedfordshire
Robin was turned away.
I thought, said he, when I came down, you should have sat at table with
me, when I had not company; but when I find you cannot forget your
original, but must prefer my menials to me, I call you down to wait on
me while I sup, that I may have some talk with you, and throw away as
little time as possible upon you.
Sir, said I, you do me honour to wait upon you:—And I never shall, I
hope, forget my original. But I was forced to stand behind his chair,
that I might hold by it. Fill me, said he, a glass of that Burgundy. I
went to do it, but my hand shook so, that I could not hold the plate