Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
Jonathan? Troth, sir, said he, an’t please your honour, I never knew
her peer, and all your honour’s family are of the same mind. Do you
hear now? said my master.—Well, said the ladies, we will make a visit
to Mrs. Jervis by and by, and hope to see this paragon.
I believe they are coming; and will tell you the rest by and by. I wish
they had come, and were gone. Why can’t they make their game without
me?
Well, these fine ladies have been here, and are gone back again. I
would have been absent, if I could, and did step into the closet: so
they saw me when they came in.
There were four of them, Lady Arthur at the great white house on the
hill, Lady Brooks, Lady Towers, and the other, it seems, a countess, of
some hard name, I forget what.
So Mrs. Jervis, says one of the ladies, how do you do? We are all come
to inquire after your health. I am much obliged to your ladyships, said
Mrs. Jervis: Will your ladyships please to sit down? But, said the
countess, we are not only come to ask after Mrs. Jervis’s health
neither; but we are come to see a rarity besides. Ah, says Lady Arthur,
I have not seen your Pamela these two years, and they tell me she is
grown wondrous pretty in that time.
Then I wished I had not been in the closet; for when I came out, they
must needs know I heard them; but I have often found, that bashful
bodies owe themselves a spite, and frequently confound themselves more,
by endeavouring to avoid confusion.
Why, yes, says Mrs. Jervis, Pamela is very pretty indeed; she’s but in
the closet there:—Pamela, pray step hither. I came out all covered with
blushes, and they smiled at one another.
The countess took me by the hand: Why, indeed, she was pleased to say,
report has not been too lavish, I’ll assure you. Don’t be ashamed,
child; (and stared full in my face;) I wish I had just such a face to
be ashamed of. O how like a fool I looked!
Lady Arthur said, Ay, my good Pamela, I say as her ladyship says: Don’t
be so confused; though, indeed, it becomes you too. I think your good
lady departed made a sweet choice of such a pretty attendant. She would
have been mighty proud of you, as she always was praising you, had she
lived till now.
Ah! madam, said Lady Brooks, do you think that so dutiful a son as our
neighbour, who always admired what his mother loved, does not pride
himself, for all what he said at table, in such a pretty maiden?
She looked with such a malicious sneering countenance, I can’t abide
her.
Lady Towers said with a free air, (for it seems she is called a wit,)
Well, Mrs. Pamela, I can’t say I like you so well as these ladies do;
for I should never care, if you were my servant, to have you and your
master in the same house together. Then they all set up a great laugh.
I know what I could have said, if I durst. But they are ladies—and
ladies may say any thing.
Says Lady Towers, Can the pretty image speak, Mrs. Jervis? I vow she
has speaking eyes! O you little rogue, said she, and tapped me on the
cheek, you seem born to undo, or to be undone!
God forbid, and please your ladyship, said I, it should be either!—I
beg, said I, to withdraw; for the sense I have of my unworthiness
renders me unfit for such a presence.
I then went away, with one of my best courtesies; and Lady Towers said,
as I went out, Prettily said, I vow!—And Lady Brooks said, See that
shape! I never saw such a face and shape in my life; why, she must be
better descended than you have told me!
And so they run on for half an hour more in my praises, as I was told;
and glad was I, when I got out of the hearing of them.
But, it seems, they went down with such a story to my master, and so
full of me, that he had much ado to stand it; but as it was very little
to my reputation, I am sure I could take no pride in it; and I feared
it would make no better for me. This gives me another cause for wishing
myself out of this house.
This is Thursday morning, and next Thursday I hope to set out; for I
have finished my task, and my master is horrid cross! And I am vexed
his crossness affects me so. If ever he had any kindness towards me, I
believe he now hates me heartily.
Is it not strange, that love borders so much upon hate? But this wicked
love is not like the true virtuous love, to be sure: that and hatred
must be as far off, as light and darkness. And how must this hate have
been increased, if he had met with such a base compliance, after his
wicked will had been gratified.
Well, one may see by a little, what a great deal means. For if
innocence cannot attract common civility, what must guilt expect, when
novelty has ceased to have its charms, and changeableness had taken
place of it? Thus we read in Holy Writ, that wicked Amnon, when he had
ruined poor Tamar, hated her more than he ever loved her, and would
have turned her out of door.
How happy am I, to be turned out of door, with that sweet companion my
innocence!—O may that be always my companion! And while I presume not
upon my own strength, and am willing to avoid the tempter, I hope the
divine grace will assist me.
Forgive me, that I repeat in my letter part of my hourly prayer. I owe
every thing, next to God’s goodness, to your piety and good examples,
my dear parents, my dear poor parents! I say that word with pleasure;
for your poverty is my pride, as your integrity shall be my imitation.
As soon as I have dined, I will put on my new clothes. I long to have
them on. I know I shall surprise Mrs. Jervis with them; for she shan’t
see me till I am full dressed.—John is come back, and I’ll soon send
you some of what I have written.—I find he is going early in the
morning; and so I’ll close here, that I am
Your most dutiful DAUGHTER.
Don’t lose your time in meeting me; because I am so uncertain. It is
hard if, some how or other, I can’t get a passage to you. But may be my
master won’t refuse to let John bring me. I can ride behind him, I
believe, well enough; for he is very careful, and very honest; and you
know John as well as I; for he loves you both. Besides, may be, Mrs.
Jervis can put me in some way.
LETTER XXIV
DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,
I shall write on, as long as I stay, though I should have nothing but
silliness to write; for I know you divert yourselves on nights with
what I write, because it is mine. John tells me how much you long for
my coming; but he says, he told you he hoped something would happen to
hinder it.
I am glad you did not tell him the occasion of my coming away; for if
my fellow-servants should guess, it were better so, than to have it
from you or me. Besides, I really am concerned, that my master should
cast away a thought upon such a poor creature as me; for, besides the
disgrace, it has quite turned his temper; and I begin to believe what
Mrs. Jervis told me, that he likes me, and can’t help it; and yet
strives to conquer it; and so finds no way but to be cross to me.
Don’t think me presumptuous and conceited; for it is more my concern
than my pride, to see such a gentleman so demean himself, and lessen
the regard he used to have in the eyes of all his servants, on my
account.—But I am to tell you of my new dress to-day.
And so, when I had dined, up stairs I went, and locked myself into my
little room. There I tricked myself up as well as I could in my new
garb, and put on my round-eared ordinary cap; but with a green knot,
however, and my homespun gown and petticoat, and plain leather shoes;
but yet they are what they call Spanish leather; and my ordinary hose,
ordinary I mean to what I have been lately used to; though I shall
think good yarn may do very well for every day, when I come home. A
plain muslin tucker I put on, and my black silk necklace, instead of
the French necklace my lady gave me; and put the ear-rings out of my
ears; and when I was quite equipped, I took my straw hat in my hand,
with its two blue strings, and looked about me in the glass, as proud
as any thing—To say truth, I never liked myself so well in my life.
O the pleasure of descending with ease, innocence, and
resignation!—Indeed, there is nothing like it! An humble mind, I
plainly see, cannot meet with any very shocking disappointment, let
fortune’s wheel turn round as it will.
So I went down to look for Mrs. Jervis, to see how she liked me.
I met, as I was upon the stairs, our Rachel, who is the house-maid; and
she made me a low courtesy, and I found did not know me. So I smiled,
and went to the housekeeper’s parlour; and there sat good Mrs. Jervis
at work, making a shift: and, would you believe it? she did not know me
at first; but rose up, and pulled off her spectacles; and said, Do you
want me, forsooth? I could not help laughing, and said, Hey-day! Mrs.
Jervis, what! don’t you know me?—She stood all in amaze, and looked at
me from top to toe: Why, you surprise me, said she: What! Pamela thus
metamorphosed! How came this about?
As it happened, in stept my master; and my back being to him, he
thought it was a stranger speaking to Mrs. Jervis, and withdrew again:
and did not hear her ask, If his honour had any commands for her?—She
turned me about and about, and I shewed her all my dress, to my
under-petticoat: and she said, sitting down, Why, I am all in amaze, I
must sit down. What can all this mean? I told her, I had no clothes
suitable to my condition when I returned to my father’s; and so it was
better to begin here, as I was soon to go away, that all my
fellow-servants might see I knew how to suit myself to the state I was
returning to.
Well, said she, I never knew the like of thee. But this sad preparation
for going away (for now I see you are quite in earnest) is what I know
not how to get over. O my dear Pamela, how can I part with you!
My master rung in the back-parlour, and so I withdrew, and Mrs. Jervis
went to attend him. It seems, he said to her, I was coming in to let
you know, that I shall go to Lincolnshire, and possibly to my sister
Davers’s, and be absent some weeks. But, pray, what pretty neat damsel
was with you? She says, she smiled, and asked, If his honour did not
know who it was? No, said he, I never saw her before. Farmer Nichols,
or Farmer Brady, have neither of them such a tight prim lass for a
daughter! have they?—Though I did not see her face neither, said he. If
your honour won’t be angry, said she, I will introduce her into your
presence; for I think, says she, she outdoes our Pamela.
Now I did not thank her for this, as I told her afterwards, (for it
brought a great deal of trouble upon me, as well as crossness, as you
shall hear). That can’t be, he was pleased to say. But if you can find
an excuse for it, let her come in.
At that she stept to me, and told me, I must go in with her to her
master; but, said she, for goodness’ sake, let him find you out; for he
don’t know you. O fie, Mrs. Jervis, said I, how could you serve me so?
Besides, it looks too free both in me, and to him. I tell you, said
she, you shall come in; and pray don’t reveal yourself till he finds
you out.
So I went in, foolish as I was; though I must have been seen by him
another time, if I had not then. And she would make me take my straw
hat in my hand.
I dropt a low courtesy, but said never a word. I dare say he knew me as
soon as he saw my face: but was as cunning as Lucifer. He came up to
me, and took me by the hand, and said, Whose pretty maiden are you?—I
dare say you are Pamela’s sister, you are so like her. So neat, so
clean, so pretty! Why, child, you far surpass your sister Pamela!
I was all confusion, and would have spoken: but he took me about the
neck: Why, said he, you are very pretty, child: I would not be so free
with your sister, you may believe; but I must kiss you.
O sir, said I, I am Pamela, indeed I am: indeed I am Pamela, her own