Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
Well, sir, said the dear little miss, then you will not let me go home
with my aunt, will you? I am sure she will love me. When you break up
next, my dear, said he, if you are a good girl, you shall pay your new
aunt a visit. She made a low courtesy. Thank you, sir, answered she.
Yes, my dear, said I, and I will get you some fine things against the
time. I would have brought you some now, had I known I should have seen
my pretty love. Thank you, madam, returned she.
How old, sir, said I, is miss? Between six and seven, answered he. Was
she ever, sir, said I, at your house? My sister, replied he, carried
her thither once, as a near relation of her lord’s. I remember, sir,
said I, a little miss; and Mrs. Jervis and I took her to be a relation
of Lord Davers.
My sister, returned he, knew the whole secret from the beginning; and
it made her a great merit with me, that she kept it from the knowledge
of my father, who was then living, and of my mother, to her dying-day;
though she descended so low in her rage, to hint the matter to you.
The little misses took their leaves soon after: and I know not how, but
I am strangely affected with this dear child. I wish he would be so
good as to let me have her home. It would be a great pleasure to have
such a fine opportunity, obliged as I am, to shew my love for himself,
in my fondness for his dear miss.
As we came home together in the chariot, he gave me the following
particulars of this affair, additional to what he had before mentioned:
That this lady was of a good family, and the flower of it but that her
mother was a person of great art and address, and not altogether so
nice in the particular between himself and miss, as she ought to have
been: That, particularly, when she had reason to find him unsettled and
wild, and her daughter in more danger from him, than he was from her,
yet she encouraged their privacies; and even, at last, when she had
reason to apprehend, from their being surprised together, in a way not
so creditable to the lady, that she was far from forbidding their
private meetings; on the contrary, that, on a certain time, she had set
one that had formerly been her footman, and a half-pay officer, her
relation, to watch an opportunity, and to frighten him into a marriage
with the lady: That, accordingly, when they had surprised him in her
chamber, just as he had been let in, they drew their swords upon him,
and threatened instantly to kill him, if he did not promise marriage on
the spot; and that they had a parson ready below stairs, as he found
afterwards: That then he suspected, from some strong circumstances,
that miss was in the plot; which so enraged him, with their menaces
together, that he drew, and stood upon his defence; and was so much in
earnest, that the man he pushed into the arm, and disabled; and
pressing pretty forward upon the other, as he retreated, he rushed in
upon him near the top of the stairs, and pushed him down one pair, and
he was much hurt by the fall: Not but that, he said, he might have paid
for his rashness; but that the business of his antagonists was rather
to frighten than to kill him: That, upon this, in the sight of the old
lady, the parson she had provided, and her other daughters, he went out
of their house, with bitter execrations against them all.
That after this, designing to break off all correspondence with the
whole family, and miss too, she found means to engage him to give her a
meeting at Woodstock, in order to clear herself: That, poor lady! she
was there obliged, naughty creature as he was! to make herself quite
guilty of a worse fault, in order to clear herself of a lighter: That
they afterwards met at Godstow often, at Woodstock, and every
neighbouring place to Oxford, where he was then studying, as it proved,
guilty lessons, instead of improving ones; till, at last, the effect of
their frequent interviews grew too obvious to be concealed: That the
young lady then, when she was not fit to be seen, for the credit of the
family, was confined, and all manner of means were used, to induce him
to marry her: That, finding nothing would do, they at last resolved to
complain to his father and mother; but that he made his sister
acquainted with the matter, who then happened to be at home; and, by
her management and spirit, their intentions of that sort were
frustrated; and, seeing no hopes, they agreed to Lady Davers’s
proposals, and sent poor miss down to Marlborough, where, at her
expense, which he answered to her again, she was provided for, and
privately lay-in: That Lady Davers took upon herself the care of the
little one, till it came to be fit to be put to the boarding-school,
where it now is: And that he had settled upon the dear little miss such
a sum of money, as the interest of it would handsomely provide for her:
and the principal would be a tolerable fortune, fit for a gentlewoman,
when she came to be marriageable. And this, my dear, said he, is the
story in brief. And I do assure you, Pamela, added he, I am far from
making a boast of, or taking a pride in, this affair: But since it has
happened, I can’t say but I wish the poor child to live, and be happy;
and I must endeavour to make her so.
Sir, said I, to be sure you should; and I shall take a very great pride
to contribute to the dear little soul’s felicity, if you will permit me
to have her home.—But, added I, does miss know any thing who are her
father and mother? I wanted him to say if the poor lady was living or
dead.—No, answered he. Her governess has been told, by my sister, that
she is the daughter of a gentleman and his lady, who are related, at a
distance, to Lord Davers, and now live in Jamaica; and she calls me
uncle, only because I am the brother to Lady Davers, whom she calls
aunt, and who is very fond of her: as is also my lord, who knows the
whole matter; and they have her, at all her little school recesses, at
their house, and are very kind to her.
I believe, added he, the truth of the matter is very little known or
suspected; for, as her mother is of no mean family, her friends
endeavour to keep it secret, as much as I: and Lady Davers, till her
wrath boiled over, t’other day, has managed the matter very dexterously
and kindly.
The words, mother is of no mean family, gave me not to doubt the poor
lady was living. And I said, But how, sir, can the dear miss’s poor
mother be content to deny herself the enjoyment of so sweet a child?
Ah, Pamela, replied he, now you come in; I see you want to know what’s
become of the poor mother. ’Tis natural enough you should; but I was
willing to see how the little suspense would operate upon you.—Dear
sir, said I.—Nay, replied he, ’tis very natural, my dear! I think you
have had a great deal of patience, and are come at this question so
fairly that you deserve to be answered.
You must know then, there is some foundation for saying, that her
mother, at least, lives in Jamaica; for there she does live, and very
happily too. For I must observe, that she suffered so much in
child-bed, that nobody expected her life; and this, when she was up,
made such an impression upon her, that she dreaded nothing so much as
the thoughts of returning to her former fault; and, to say the truth, I
had intended to make her a visit as soon as her month was well up. And
so, unknown to me, she engaged herself to go to Jamaica, with two young
ladies, who were born there; and were returning to their friends, after
they had been four years in England for their education: and,
recommending to me, by a very moving letter, her little baby, and that
I would not suffer it to be called by her name, but Goodwin, that her
shame might be the less known, for hers and her family’s sake; she got
her friends to assign her five hundred pounds, in full of all her
demands upon her family, and went up to London, and embarked, with her
companions, at Gravesend, and so sailed to Jamaica; where she is since
well and happily married, passing to her husband for a young widow,
with one daughter, which her husband’s friends take care of, and
provide for. And so you see, Pamela, that in the whole story on both
sides, the truth is as much preserved as possible.
Poor lady! said I; how her story moves me! I am glad she is so happy at
last!—And, my dear, said he, are you not glad she is so far off too?—As
to that, sir, said I, I cannot be sorry, to be sure, as she is so
happy; which she could not have been here. For, sir, I doubt you would
have proceeded with your temptations, if she had not gone; and it
shewed she was much in earnest to be good, that she could leave her
native country, leave all her relations, leave you, whom she so well
loved, leave her dear baby, and try a new fortune, in a new world,
among quite strangers, and hazard the seas; and all to preserve herself
from further guiltiness! Indeed, indeed, sir, said I, I bleed for what
her distresses must be, in this case I am grieved for her poor mind’s
remorse, through her childbed terrors, which could have so great and so
worthy an effect upon her afterwards; and I honour her resolution; and
would rank such a returning dear lady in the class of those who are
most virtuous; and doubt not God Almighty’s mercy to her; and that her
present happiness is the result of his gracious providence, blessing
her penitence and reformation.—But, sir, said I, did you not once see
the poor lady after her lying-in?
I did not believe her so much in earnest, answered he; and I went down
to Marlborough, and heard she was gone from thence to Calne. I went to
Calne, and heard she was gone to Reading, to a relation’s there.
Thither I went, and heard she was gone to Oxford. I followed; and there
she was; but I could not see her.
She at last received a letter from me, begging a meeting with her; for
I found her departure with the ladies was resolved on, and that she was
with her friends, only to take leave of them, and receive her agreed on
portion: And she appointed the Saturday following, and that was
Wednesday, to give me a meeting at the old place, at Woodstock.
Then, added he, I thought I was sure of her, and doubted not I should
spoil her intended voyage. I set out on Thursday to Gloucester, on a
party of pleasure; and on Saturday I went to the place appointed, at
Woodstock: But when I came thither, I found a letter instead of my
lady; and when I opened it, it was to beg my pardon for deceiving me;
expressing her concern for her past fault; her affection for me; and
the apprehension she had, that she should be unable to keep her good
resolves, if she met me: that she had set out on the Thursday for her
embarkation; for that she feared nothing else could save her; and had
appointed this meeting on Saturday, at the place of her former guilt,
that I might be suitably impressed upon the occasion, and pity and
allow for her; and that she might get three or four days start of me,
and be quite out of my reach. She recommended again, as upon the spot
where the poor little one owed its being, my tenderness to it, for her
sake; and that was all she had to request of me, she said; but would
not forget to pray for me in all her own dangers, and in every
difficulty she was going to encounter.
I wept at this moving tale. And did not this make a deep impression
upon you, sir? said I. Surely such an affecting lesson as this, on the
very guilty spot too, (I admire the dear lady’s pious contrivance!)
must have had a great effect upon you. One would have thought, sir, it
was enough to reclaim you for ever! All your naughty purposes, I make
no doubt, were quite changed?
Why, my dear, said he, I was much moved, you may be sure, when I came
to reflect: But, at first, I was so assured of being a successful
tempter, and spoiling her voyage, that I was vexed, and much out of