Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
thinkest thou art married to my brother.
Your ladyship, I hope, won’t kill me: And since nothing I can say will
please you, but your ladyship is resolved to quarrel with me; since I
must not say what I think, on one hand nor another; whatever your
ladyship designs by me, be pleased to do, and let me depart your
presence!
She gave me a slap on the hand, and reached to box my ear; but Mrs.
Jewkes hearkening without, and her woman too, they both came in at that
instant; and Mrs. Jewkes said, pushing herself in between us; Your
ladyship knows not what you do! Indeed you don’t! My master would never
forgive me, if I suffered, in his house, one he so dearly loves, to be
so used; and it must not be, though you are Lady Davers. Her woman too
interposed, and told her, I was not worth her ladyship’s anger. But she
was like a person beside herself.
I offered to go out, and Mrs. Jewkes took my hand to lead me out: But
her kinsman set his back against the door, and put his hand to his
sword, and said, I should not go, till his aunt permitted it. He drew
it half-way, and I was so terrified, that I cried out, Oh, the sword!
the sword! and, not knowing what I did, I ran to my lady herself, and
clasped my arms about her, forgetting, just then, how much she was my
enemy, and said, sinking on my knees, Defend me, good your ladyship!
the sword! the sword!—Mrs. Jewkes said, Oh! my lady will fall into
fits! But Lady Davers was herself so startled at the matter being
carried so far, that she did not mind her words, and said, Jackey,
don’t draw your sword!—You see, as great as her spirit is, she can’t
bear that.
Come, said she, be comforted; he shan’t frighten you!—I’ll try to
overcome my anger, and will pity you. So, wench, rise up, and don’t be
foolish. Mrs. Jewkes held her salts to my nose, and I did not faint.
And my lady said, Mrs. Jewkes, if you would be forgiven, leave Pamela
and me by ourselves; and, Jackey, do you withdraw; only you, Beck,
stay.
So I sat down in the window, all in a sad fluster; for, to be sure, I
was sadly frightened.—Said her woman, You should not sit in my lady’s
presence, Mrs. Pamela. Yes, let her sit till she is a little recovered
of her fright, said my lady, and do you set my chair by her. And so she
sat over-against me, and said, To be sure, Pamela, you have been very
provoking with your tongue, to be sure you have, as well upon my
nephew, (who is a man of quality too,) as me. And palliating her cruel
usage, and beginning, I suppose, to think herself she had carried it
further than she could answer it to her brother, she wanted to lay the
fault upon me. Own, said she, you have been very saucy; and beg my
pardon, and beg Jackey’s pardon, and I will try to pity you. For you
are a sweet girl, after all; if you had but held out, and been honest.
’Tis injurious to me, madam, said I, to imagine I am not honest!—Said
she, Have you not been a-bed with my brother? tell me that. Your
ladyship, replied I, asks your questions in a strange way, and in
strange words.
O! your delicacy is wounded, I suppose, by my plain questions!—This
niceness will soon leave you, wench: It will, indeed. But answer me
directly. Then your ladyship’s next question, said I, will be, Am I
married? And you won’t bear my answer to that—and will beat me again.
I han’t beat you yet; have I, Beck? said she. So you want to make out a
story, do you?—But, indeed, I can’t bear thou shouldst so much as think
thou art my sister. I know the whole trick of it; and so, ’tis my
opinion, dost thou. It is only thy little cunning, that it might look
like a cloak to thy yielding, and get better terms from him. Pr’ythee,
pr’ythee, wench, thou seest I know the world a little;—almost as much
at thirty-two, as thou dost at sixteen.—Remember that!
I rose from the window, and walking to the other end of the room, Beat
me again, if you please, said I, but I must tell your ladyship, I scorn
your words, and am as much married as your ladyship!
At that she ran to me; but her woman interposed again: Let the vain
wicked creature go from your presence, madam, said she. She is not
worthy to be in it. She will but vex your ladyship. Stand away, Beck,
said she. That’s an assertion that I would not take from my brother, I
can’t bear it. As much married as I!—Is that to be borne? But if the
creature believes she is, madam, said her woman, she is to be as much
pitied for her credulity, as despised for her vanity.
I was in hopes to have slipt out at the door; but she caught hold of my
gown, and pulled me back. Pray your ladyship, said I, don’t kill me!—I
have done no harm.—But she locked the door, and put the key in her
pocket. So, seeing Mrs. Jewkes before the window, I lifted up the sash,
and said, Mrs. Jewkes, I believe it would be best for the chariot to go
to your master, and let him know, that Lady Davers is here; and I
cannot leave her ladyship.
She was resolved to be displeased, let me say what I would.
Said she, No, no; he’ll then think, that I make the creature my
companion, and know not how to part with her. I thought your ladyship,
replied I, could not have taken exceptions at this message. Thou
knowest nothing, wench, said she, of what belongs to people of
condition: How shouldst thou? Nor, thought I, do I desire it, at this
rate.
What shall I say, madam? said I. Nothing at all, replied she; let him
expect his dearest love, and be disappointed; it is but adding a few
more hours, and he will make every one a day, in his amorous
account.—Mrs. Jewkes coming nearer me, and my lady walking about the
room, being then at the end, I whispered, Let Robert stay at the elms;
I’ll have a struggle for’t by and by.
As much married as I! repeated she.—The insolence of the creature!—And
so she walked about the room, talking to herself, to her woman, and now
and then to me; but seeing I could not please her, I thought I had
better be silent. And then it was, Am I not worthy an answer? If I
speak, said I, your ladyship is angry at me, though ever so
respectfully; if I do not, I cannot please: Would your ladyship tell me
but how I shall oblige you, and I would do it with all my heart.
Confess the truth, said she, that thou art an undone creature; hast
been in bed with thy master; and art sorry for it, and for the mischief
thou hast occasioned between him and me; and then I’ll pity thee, and
persuade him to pack thee off, with a hundred or two of guineas; and
some honest farmer may take pity of thee, and patch up thy shame, for
the sake of the money; and if nobody will have thee, thou must vow
penitence, and be as humble as I once thought thee.
I was quite sick at heart, at all this passionate extravagance, and to
be hindered from being where was the desire of my soul, and afraid too
of incurring my dear master’s displeasure; and, as I sat, I saw it was
no hard matter to get out of the window into the front yard, the
parlour being even with the yard, and so have a fair run for it; and
after I had seen my lady at the other end of the room again, in her
walks, having not pulled down the sash, when I spoke to Mrs. Jewkes, I
got upon the seat, and whipped out in a minute, and ran away as hard as
I could drive, my lady calling after me to return, and her woman at the
other window: But two of her servants appearing at her crying out, and
she bidding them to stop me, I said, Touch me at your peril, fellows!
But their lady’s commands would have prevailed on them, had not Mr.
Colbrand, who, it seems, had been kindly ordered, by Mrs. Jewkes, to be
within call, when she saw how I was treated, come up, and put on one of
his deadly fierce looks, the only time, I thought, it ever became him,
and said, He would chine the man, that was his word, who offered to
touch his lady; and so he ran alongside of me; and I heard my lady say,
The creature flies like a bird! And, indeed, Mr. Colbrand, with his
huge strides, could hardly keep pace with me; and I never stopped, till
I got to the chariot; and Robert had got down, seeing me running at a
distance, and held the door in his hand, with the step ready down; and
in I jumped, without touching the step, saying, Drive me, drive me, as
fast as you can, out of my lady’s reach! And he mounted; and Colbrand
said, Don’t be frightened, madam; nobody shall hurt you.—And shut the
door, and away Robert drove; but I was quite out of breath, and did not
recover it, and my fright, all the way.
Mr. Colbrand was so kind, but I did not know it till the chariot
stopped at Sir Simon’s, to step up behind the carriage, lest, as he
said, my lady should send after me; and he told Mrs. Jewkes, when he
got home, that he never saw such a runner as me in his life.
When the chariot stopped, which was not till six o’clock, so long did
this cruel lady keep me, Miss Darnford ran out to me: O madam, said
she, ten times welcome! but you’ll be beat, I can tell you! for here
has been Mr. B—— come these two hours, and is very angry with you.
That’s hard indeed, said I;—Indeed I can’t afford it;—for I hardly knew
what I said, having not recovered my fright. Let me sit down, miss, any
where, said I; for I have been sadly off. So I sat down, and was quite
sick with the hurry of my spirits, and leaned upon her arm.
Said she, Your lord and master came in very moody; and when he had
staid an hour, and you not come, he began to fret, and said, He did not
expect so little complaisance from you. And he is now sat down, with
great persuasion, to a game at loo.—Come, you must make your
appearance, lady fair; for he is too sullen to attend you, I doubt.
You have no strangers, have you miss? said I.—Only two women relations
from Stamford, replied she, and an humble servant of one of them.—Only
all the world, miss! said I.—What shall I do, if he be angry? I can’t
bear that.
Just as I had said so, came in Lady Darnford and Lady Jones to chide
me, as they said, for not coming sooner. And before I could speak, came
in my dear master. I ran to him. How dy’e Pamela? said he; and saluting
me, with a little more formality than I could well bear.—I expected
half a word from me, when I was so complaisant to your choice, would
have determined you, and that you’d have been here to dinner;—and the
rather, as I made my request a reasonable one, and what I thought would
be agreeable to you. O dear sir, said I, pray, pray, hear me, and
you’ll pity me, and not be displeased! Mrs. Jewkes will tell you, that
as soon as I had your kind commands, I said, I would obey you, and come
to dinner with these good ladies; and so prepared myself instantly,
with all the pleasure in the world. Lady Darnford and miss said I was
their dear!—Look you, said miss, did I not tell you, stately one, that
something must have happened? But, O these tyrants! these men!
Why, what hindered it, my dear? said he: give yourself time; you seem
out of breath!—O sir, said I, out of breath! well I may!—For, just as I
was ready to come away, who should drive into the court-yard, but Lady
Davers!—Lady Davers! Nay, then, my sweet dear, said he, and saluted me
more tenderly, hast thou had a worse trial than I wish thee, from one
of the haughtiest women in England, though my sister!—For, she too, my
Pamela, was spoiled by my good mother!—But have you seen her?
Yes, sir, said I, and more than seen her!—Why sure, said he, she has
not had the insolence to strike my girl!—Sir, said I, but tell me you
forgive me; for indeed I could not come sooner; and these good ladies
but excuse me; and I’ll tell you all another time; for to take up the
good company’s attention now, will spoil their pleasantry, and be to
them, though more important to me, like the broken china you cautioned
me about.
That’s a dear girl! said he; I see my hints are not thrown away upon