Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
What shall I do, what steps take, if all this be designing—O the
perplexities of these cruel doubtings!—To be sure, if he be false, as I
may call it, I have gone too far, much too far!—I am ready, on the
apprehension of this, to bite my forward tongue (or rather to beat my
more forward heart, that dictated to that poor machine) for what I have
said. But sure, at least, he must be sincere for the time!—He could not
be such a practised dissembler!—If he could, O how desperately wicked
is the heart of man!—And where could he learn all these barbarous
arts?—If so, it must be native surely to the sex!—But, silent be my
rash censurings; be hushed, ye stormy tumults of my disturbed mind! for
have I not a father who is a man?—A man who knows no guile! who would
do no wrong!—who would not deceive or oppress, to gain a kingdom!—How
then can I think it is native to the sex? And I must also hope my good
lady’s son cannot be the worst of men!—If he is, hard the lot of the
excellent woman that bore him!—But much harder the hap of your poor
Pamela, who has fallen into such hands!—But yet I will trust in God,
and hope the best: and so lay down my tired pen for this time.
Thursday morning.
Somebody rapped at our chamber-door this morning, soon after it was
light: Mrs. Jewkes asked, who it was? My master said, Open the door,
Mrs. Jewkes! O, said I, for God’s sake, Mrs. Jewkes, don’t! Indeed,
said she, but I must. Then, said I, and clung about her, let me slip on
my clothes first. But he rapped again, and she broke from me; and I was
frightened out of my wits, and folded myself in the bed-clothes. He
entered, and said, What, Pamela, so fearful, after what passed
yesterday between us! O, sir, sir, said I, I fear my prayers have
wanted their wished effect! Pray, good sir, consider—He sat down on the
bed-side, and interrupted me; No need of your foolish fears; I shall
say but a word or two, and go away.
After you went up stairs, said he, I had an invitation to a ball, which
is to be this night at Stamford, on occasion of a wedding; and I am
going to call on Sir Simon, and his lady and daughters; for the bride
is a relation of theirs: so I shall not be at home till Saturday. I
come, therefore, to caution you, Mrs. Jewkes, before Pamela, (that she
may not wonder at being closer confined, than for these three or four
days past,) that nobody sees her, nor delivers any letter to her, in
that space; for a person has been seen lurking about, and inquiring
after her, and I have been well informed, that either Mrs. Jervis, or
Mr. Longman, has written a letter, with a design of having it conveyed
to her: And, said he, you must know, Pamela, that I have ordered Mr.
Longman to give up his accounts, and have dismissed Jonathan and Mrs.
Jervis, since I have been here; for their behaviour has been
intolerable; and they have made such a breach between my sister Davers
and me, as we shall never, perhaps, make up. Now, Pamela, I shall take
it kindly in you, if you will confine yourself to your chamber pretty
much, for the time I am absent, and not give Mrs. Jewkes cause of
trouble or uneasiness; and the rather, as you know she acts by my
orders.
Alas! sir, said I, I fear all these good people have suffered for my
sake!—Why, said he, I believe so too; and there was never a girl of
your innocence, that set a large family in such an uproar, surely.—But
let that pass. You know both of you my mind, and, in part, the reason
of it. I shall only say, that I have had such a letter from my sister,
as I could not have expected; and, Pamela, said he, neither you nor I
have reason to thank her, as you shall know, perhaps at my return.—I go
in my coach, Mrs. Jewkes, because I take Lady Darnford, and Mrs.
Peters’s niece, and one of Lady Darnford’s daughters, along with me;
and Sir Simon and his other daughter go in his chariot: so let all the
gates be fastened; and don’t take any airing in either of the chariots,
nor let any body go to the gate, without you, Mrs. Jewkes. I’ll be
sure, said she, to obey your honour.
I will give Mrs. Jewkes no trouble, sir, said I; and will keep pretty
much in my chamber, and not stir so much as into the garden without
her; to shew you I will obey in every thing I can. But I begin to
fear—Ay, said he, more plots and contrivances, don’t you?—But I’ll
assure you, you never had less reason; and I tell you the truth; for I
am really going to Stamford this time; and upon the occasion I tell
you. And so, Pamela, give me your hand, and one kiss; and then I am
gone.
I durst not refuse, and said, God bless you, sir, wherever you go!—But
I am sorry for what you tell me about your servants!
He and Mrs. Jewkes had a little talk without the door; and I heard her
say, You may depend, sir, upon my care and vigilance.
He went in his coach, as he said he should, and very richly dressed,
which looks as if what he said was likely: but really I have been used
to so many tricks, and plots, and surprises, that I know not what to
think. But I mourn for poor Mrs. Jervis.—So here is Parson Williams;
here’s poor naughty John; here is good Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman,
and Mr. Jonathan, turned away for me!—Mr. Longman is rich, indeed, and
so need the less matter it; but I know it will grieve him: and for poor
Mr. Jonathan, I am sure it will cut that good old servant to the heart.
Alas for me! what mischiefs am I the occasion of!—Or, rather, my
master, whose actions towards me have made so many of my kind friends
forfeit his favour, for my sake!
I am very sad about these things: If he really loved me, methinks he
should not be so angry, that his servants loved me too.—I know not what
to think!
Friday night.
I have removed my papers from under the rose-bush; for I saw the
gardener begin to dig near that spot; and I was afraid he would find
them.
Mrs. Jewkes and I were looking yesterday through the iron gate that
fronts the elms; and a gipsy-like body made up to us, and said; If,
madam, you will give me some broken victuals, I will tell you both your
fortunes. I said, Let us hear our fortunes, Mrs. Jewkes. She said, I
don’t like these sort of people; but we will hear what she’ll say to
us, however. I shan’t fetch you any victuals, woman; but I will give
you some pence, said she.
But Nan coming out, she said, Fetch some bread, and some of the cold
meat, and you shall have your fortune told, Nan.
This, you’ll think, like some of my other matters, a very trifling
thing to write about. But mark the discovery of a dreadful plot, which
I have made by it. O, bless me! What can I think of this naughty, this
very naughty gentleman!—Now will I hate him most heartily. Thus it
was:—
Mrs. Jewkes had no suspicion of the woman, the iron gate being locked,
and she on the outside, and we on the inside; and so put her hand
through. She said, muttering over a parcel of cramp words; Why, madam,
you will marry soon, I can tell you. At that she seemed pleased, and
said, I am glad to hear that; and shook her fat sides with laughing.
The woman looked most earnestly at me, all the time, and as if she had
meaning. Then it came into my head, from my master’s caution, that
possibly this woman might be employed to try to get a letter into my
hands; and I was resolved to watch all her motions. So Mrs. Jewkes
said, What sort of a man shall I have, pray?—Why, said she, a man
younger than yourself; and a very good husband he’ll prove.—I am glad
of that, said she; and laughed again. Come, madam, let us hear your
fortune.
The woman came to me, and took my hand. O! said she, I cannot tell your
fortune: your hand is so white and fine, I cannot see the lines: but,
said she, and, stooping, pulled up a little tuft of grass, I have a way
for that; and so rubbed my hand with the mould part of the tuft: Now,
said she, I can see the lines.
Mrs. Jewkes was very watchful of all her ways, and took the tuft, and
looked upon it, lest any thing should be in that. And then the woman
said, Here is the line of Jupiter crossing the line of life; and
Mars—Odd! my pretty mistress, said she, you had best take care of
yourself; for you are hard beset, I’ll assure you. You will never be
married, I can see; and will die of your first child. Out upon thee,
woman! said I, better thou hadst never come here.
Said Mrs. Jewkes, whispering, I don’t like this: it looks like a cheat:
Pray, Mrs. Pamela, go in, this moment. So I will, said I; for I have
enough of fortune-telling. And in I went.
The woman wanted sadly to tell me more, which made Mrs. Jewkes threaten
her, suspecting still the more; and away the woman went, having told
Nan her fortune, and she would be drowned.
This thing ran strongly in all our heads; and we went, an hour after,
to see if the woman was lurking about, and took Mr. Colbrand for our
guard. Looking through the iron gate, he spied a man sauntering about
the middle of the walk; which filled Mrs. Jewkes with still more
suspicions; and she said, Mr. Colbrand, you and I will walk towards
this fellow, and see what he saunters there for: And, Nan, do you and
madam stay at the gate.
So they opened the iron gate and walked down towards the man; and
guessing the woman, if employed, must mean something by the tuft of
grass, I cast my eye that way, whence she pulled it, and saw more grass
seemingly pulled up: then I doubted not something was there for me; and
I walked to it, and standing over it, said to Nan, That’s a pretty sort
of wild flower, that grows yonder, near the elm, the fifth from us on
the left; pray pull it for me. Said she, It is a common weed. Well,
said I, but pull it for me; there are sometimes beautiful colours in a
weed.
While she went on, I stooped, and pulled up a good handful of the
grass, and in it a bit of paper, which I put instantly in my bosom, and
dropt the grass: and my heart went pit-a-pat at the odd adventure. Said
I, Let’s go in, Mrs. Anne. No, said she, we must stay till Mrs. Jewkes
comes.
I was all impatience to read this paper: and when Colbrand and she
returned, I went in. Said she, Certainly there is some reason for my
master’s caution: I can make nothing of this sauntering fellow; but, to
be sure, there was some roguery in the gipsy. Well, said I, if there
was, she lost her aim, you see! Ay, very true, said she; but that was
owing to my watchfulness; and you was very good to go away, when I
spoke to you.
I hastened up stairs to my closet, and found the billet to contain, in
a hand that seemed disguised, and bad spelling, the following words:
‘Twenty contrivances have been thought of to let you know your danger:
but all have proved in vain. Your friends hope it is not yet too late
to give you this caution, if it reaches your hands. The ’squire is
absolutely determined to ruin you; and, because he despairs of any
other way, he will pretend great love and kindness to you, and that he
will marry you. You may expect a parson, for this purpose, in a few
days; but it is a sly artful fellow, of a broken attorney, that he has
hired to personate a minister. The man has a broad face, pitted much
with the small-pox, and is a very great companion. So take care of
yourself. Doubt not this advice. Perhaps you’ll have had but too much
reason already to confirm you in the truth of it. From your zealous
well-wisher, ‘SOMEBODY.’
Now, my dear father and mother, what shall we say of this truly
diabolical master! O, how shall I find words to paint my griefs, and
his deceit! I have as good as confessed I love him; but, indeed, it was
on supposing him good.—This, however, has given him too much advantage.
But now I will break this wicked forward heart of mine, if it will not
be taught to hate him! O, what a black dismal heart must he have! So
here is a plot to ruin me, and by my own consent to!—No wonder he did