 22 Saturday. I arose early in the morning, but found my father was up before me, and was gone to walk in the garden. I went to him, and with what delight, with what thankfulness, did we go over every scene of it. That had before been so dreadful to me. The fish pond, the back door, and every place. Oh, what reason had we for thankfulness and gratitude. About seven o'clock my good master joined us. In his morning gown and slippers, and looking a little heavy, I said, Sir, I fear you had not good rest last night. That is your fault, Pamela, said he. After I went from you, I must needs look into your papers, and could not leave them till I had read them through, and so it was three o'clock before I went to sleep. I wish, sir, said I, you had had better entertainment. The worst part of it, said he, was what I had brought upon myself, and you have not spared me. Sir, said I, he interrupting me, said, Well, I forgive you. You had too much reason for it. But I find, plainly enough, that if you had got away, you would soon have been William's wife, and I can't see how it could well have been otherwise. Indeed, sir, said I, I had no notion of it, or of being anybody's. I believe so, said he, but it must have come as a thing, of course, and I see your father was for it. Sir, said he, I little thought of the honour your goodness would confer upon her, and I thought that would be a match above what we could do for her. A great deal. But when I found she was not for it, I resolved not to urge her, but leave all to her own prudence. I see, said he, all was sincere, honest, and open, and I speak of it, if it had been done, as a thing that could hardly well be avoided. And I am quite satisfied. But, said he, I must observe, as I have a hundred times, with admiration what a prodigious memory and easy and happy manner of narration this excellent girl has, and though she is full of her pretty tricks and artifices, to escape the snares I had laid for her, yet all is innocent, lovely, and uniformly beautiful. You are exceedingly happy in a daughter, and I hope I shall be so in a wife. Or, said my father, may she not have that honour. I fear it not, said he, and I hope I shall deserve it of her. But Pamela, said my master, I am sorry to find in some parts of your journal that Mrs. Jukes carried her orders a little too far, and I the more take notice of it, because you have not complained to me of her behaviour as she might have expected, for some parts of it, though a good deal was occasioned by my strict orders. But she had the insolence to strike my girl I find. Sir, said I, I was a little provoking, I believe, but as we forgave one another, I was the less entitled to complain of her. Well, said he, you are very good, but if you have any particular resentment, I will indulge it so far as that she shall hereafter have nothing to do where you are. Sir, said I, you are so kind, that I ought to forgive everybody, and when I see that my happiness is brought about, by the very means that I thought, then, my greatest grievance, I ought to bless those means and forgive all that was disagreeable to me at the same time, for the great good that hath issued from it. That, said he, and kissed me, is sweetly considered, and it shall be my part to make you a mens for what you have suffered, that you may still think lighter of the one and have cause to rejoice in the other. My dear father's heart was full, and he said with his hands folded and lifted up. Pray, sir, let me go, let me go to my dear wife, and tell her all these blessed things, while my heart holds, for it is ready to burst with joy. Good man, said my master, I hope to hear this honest heart of yours speaking at your lips. I enjoin you, Pamela, to continue your relation as you have opportunity, and, though your father be here, write to your mother, that this wondrous story be perfect, and we, your friends, may read and admire you more and more. I pray, pray do, my child, said my father, and this is the reason that I write on, my dear mother, when I thought not to do it, because my father could tell you all that passed while he was here. My master took notice of my psalm and was pleased to commend it, and said that I had very charitably turned the last verses, which in the original were full of heavy curses, to a wish that showed I was not of an implacable disposition, though my then usage might have excused it if I had. But, said he, I think you shall sing it to me to-morrow. After we have breakfasted, added he, if you have no objection, Pamela, we'll take an airing together, and it shall be in the coach, because we'll have your father's company. He would have excused himself, but my master would have it so. But he was much ashamed because of the meanness of his appearance. My master would make us both breakfast with him on chocolate, and he said, I would have you, Pamela, begin to dress as you used to do, for now at least you may call your two other bundles your own, and if you want anything against the approaching occasion, private as I design it, I'll send to Lincoln for it, by a special messenger. I said my good lady's bounty and his own had set me much above my degree, and I had very good things of all sorts, and I did not desire any other, because I would not excite the censure of the ladies. That would be a different thing, he was pleased to say, when he publicly owned his nuptials, after we came to the other house. But at present, if I was satisfied, he would not make words with me. I hope, Mr. Andrews, said he to my father, you'll not leave us till you see the affair over, and then you'll be sure I mean honorably. And besides, Pamela will be induced to set the day sooner. Oh, sir, said he, I bless God I have no reason to doubt your meaning honorably, and I hope you'll excuse me if I set out on Monday morning, very early, to my dear wife, and make her as happy as I am. Why, Pamela says my good master, may it not be performed on Tuesday, and then your father maybe will stay. I should have been glad to have had it tomorrow, at it, he. But I have sent Mr. Cole brand, for a license, that you may have no scruple unanswered, and he can't very well be back before tomorrow night, for Monday morning. This was most agreeable news. I said, sir, I know my dear father will want to be at home, and as you was so good to give me a fortnight from last Thursday, I should be glad you would be pleased to indulge me still to some day in the second seven. Well said he, I will not be too urgent. But the sooner you fix the better. After Andrews, we must leave something to these Jeppe's daughters. In these cases, he was pleased to say, I suppose the little bashful folly which in the happiest circumstances may give a kind of regret to quit the maiden state, and an awkwardness at the entrance into a new one, is a reason with Pamela. And so she shall name her day. Sir said he, you are all goodness. I went up soon after, and knew dressed myself, taking possession in a happy moment, I hope, of my two bundles, as my good master was pleased to call them, alluding to my former division of those good things my lady and himself bestowed upon me. And so put on fine linen, silk shoes, and fine white-cotton stockings, a fine quilted coat, a delicate green mantilla, silk gown and coat, a French necklace, and a laced cambrick handkerchief with clean gloves, and taking my fan in my hand, I, like a little proud hussy, looked in the glass and thought myself a gentlewoman once more, but I forgot not to return due thanks for being able to put on this dress with so much comfort. Mrs. Jukes would help to dress me, and complimented me highly saying, among other things, that now I looked like a lady indeed, and as she said, the little chapel was ready, and divine service would be read in it to-morrow. She wished the happy knot might then be tied. Said she, Have you not seen the chapel, madam, since it has been cleaned out? No, said I. But are we to have service in it to-morrow, do you say? I am glad of that, for I have been a sad heathen lately. I saw against my will. But who is to officiate? Somebody replied she, Mr. Peters will send. You tell me very good news, said I, Mrs. Jukes. I hope it will never be a lumber-room again. I, said she, I can tell you more good news. For the two Mrs. Darnford and Lady Jones are to be here at the opening of it, and will stay and dine with you. My master, said I, has not told me that. It must alter your style, madam, said she. It must not be master now. Sure. O, returned I, this is a language I shall never forget. He shall always be my master, and I shall think myself more and more his servant. My poor father did not know I went up to dress myself, and he said his heart misgave him. When he saw me first, for fear, I was made a fool of, and that here was some fine lady that was to be my master's true wife. And he stood in admiration and said, O my dear child, how well will you become your happy condition? Why you look like a lady already. I hope, my dear father, said I, and boldly kissed him. I shall always be your dutiful daughter, whatever my condition be. My master sent me word he was ready. And when he saw me, said, Dressed as you will, Pamela, you're a charming girl, and so handed me to the coach, and would make my father and me sit both on the foreside, and sat backwards over against me, and bid the coachman drive to the meadow, that is, where he once met Mr. Williams. The conversation was most agreeable to me, and to my dear father, as we went, and he more and more exceeded in goodness and generosity, and while I was gone up to dress, he had presented my father with twenty guineas, desiring him to buy himself and my mother such apparel as they should think proper, and lay it all out. But I knew not this till after we came home, my father having had no opportunity to tell me of it. He was pleased to inform me of the chapel being got intolerable order, and said it looked very well, and against he came down next it should be all new whitewashed and painted and lined, and a new pulpit cloth, cushion, desk, et cetera, and that it should always be kept in order for the future. He told me that two Mrs. Darnford and Lady Jones would dine with him on Sunday, and with their servants and mine said he, we shall make a tolerable congregation, and added he, have I not well contrived to show you that the chapel is really a little house of God, and has been consecrated, before we solemnize our nuptials in it? Oh, sir, replied I, your goodness to me is inexpressible. Mr. Peters said he offered to come and officiate in it, but would not stay to dine with me, because he has company at his own house, and so I intend that divine service shall be performed in it by one to whom I shall make some yearly allowance, as a sort of chaplain. You look serious, Pamela, added he. I know you think of your friend Williams. Indeed, sir, said I, if you won't be angry, I did. Poor man, I am sorry I have been the cause of his disobliging you. When we came to the meadow where the gentry have their walk sometimes, the coach stopped and my master alighted, and led me to the brookside, and it is a very pretty summer walk. He asked my father if he chose to walk out, or go on in the coach to the farther end. He poor man chose to go on in the coach, for fear, he said, any gentry should be walking there, and he told me he was most of the way upon his knees in the coach, thanking God for his gracious mercies and goodness, and begging a blessing upon my good master and me. I was quite astonished when we came into the shady walk, to see Mr. Williams there. See there, said my master, there is poor Williams taking his solitary walk again, with his book, and it seems it was so contrived, for Mr. Peters had been, as I since find, desired to tell him to be in that walk at such an hour in the morning. So old acquaintance, said my master, again have I met you in this place? What book are you now reading? He said it was Boilot's Lutran. Said my master, you see I have brought with me my little fugitive, that would have been. While you are perfecting yourself in French, I am trying to learn English, and hope soon to be master of it. Mine, sir, said he, is a very beautiful piece of French, but your English has no equal. Your very politeness to Williams, said my master, and he that does not think as you do, deserves no share in her. Why, Pamela, added he very generously, why so strange, where you have once been so familiar, I do assure you both, that I mean not by this interview, to insult Mr. Williams, or confound you. Then I said, Mr. Williams, I am very glad to see you well, and though the generous favour of my good master has happily changed the scene, since you and I last saw one another, I am nevertheless very glad of an opportunity to acknowledge, with gratitude, your good intentions, not so much to serve me as me, but as a person, that then had great reason to believe herself in distress. And I hope, sir, added I, to my master, your goodness will permit me to say this. You, Pamela, said he, may make what acknowledgments you please to Mr. Williams' good intentions, and I would have you speak as you think, but I do not apprehend myself to be quite so much obliged to those intentions. Sir, said Mr. Williams, I beg leave to say, I knew well that, by education, you was no Libertine. Nor had I reason to think you so by inclination. And when you came to reflect, I hoped you would not be displeased with me. And this was no small motive to me, at first, to do as I did. I, but Mr. Williams, said my master, could you think I should have had reason to thank you? With loving one person above all her sex you had robbed me of her, and married her yourself. And then, said he, you are to consider that she was an old acquaintance of mine, and a quite new one to you, that I had sent her down to my own house, for better securing her, and that you, who had access to my house, could not affect your purpose without being guilty in some sort of a breach of the laws of hospitality and friendship. As to my designs upon her, I own they had not the best appearance. But still I was not answerable to Mr. Williams for those. Much less could you be excused to invade a property so very dear to me, and to endeavour to gain an interest in her affections, when you could not be certain that matters would not turn out, as they have actually done. I own, said he, that some parts of my conduct seem exceptional, as you stated. But sir, I am but a young man. I meant no harm. I had no interest, I am sure, to incur your displeasure. And when you think of everything and the inimitable graces of person, and perfections of mind, that adorn this excellent lady, so he called me, you will perhaps find your generosity allow something as an extenuation of a fault, which your anger would not permit as an excuse. I have done, said my master, nor did I meet you here to be angry with you. Pamela knew not that she should see you, and now you are both present, I would ask you, Mr. Williams, if now you know my honourable designs towards this good girl. You can really be almost, I will not say quite, as well pleased with the friendship of my wife, as you could be with the favour of Mrs. Andrews. Sir, said he, I will answer you truly. I think I could have preferred, with her, any condition that could have befallen me, had I considered only myself. But sir, I was very far from having any encouragement to expect her favour, and I had much more reason to believe that if she could have hoped for your goodness, her heart would have been too much pre-engaged to think of anybody else. And give me leave further to say, sir, that though I tell you sincerely my thoughts, were I only to consider myself, yet, when I consider her good, and her merit, I should be highly ungenerous, were it put to my choice, if I could not wish her in a condition so much superior to what I could raise her to, and so very answerable to her merit. Pamela said, my master, you are obliged to Mr. Williams and ought to thank him. He has distinguished well, but as for me who had liked to have lost you by his means, I am glad the matter was not left to his choice. Mr. Williams added he, I give you Pamela's hand, because I know it will be pleasing to her. In token of her friendship and esteem for you, and I give you mine, that I will not be your enemy, but yet I must say that I think I owe this proper manner of your thinking more to your disappointment than to the generosity you talk of. Mr. Williams kissed my hand as my master gave it him, and my master said, Sir, you will go home and dine with me, and I'll show you my little chapel. And do you, Pamela, look upon yourself at liberty to number Mr. Williams in the list of your friends. How generous, how noble was this! Mr. Williams, and so had I, had tears of pleasure in his eyes. I was silent, but Mr. Williams said, Sir, I shall be taught by your generosity to think myself inexcusably wrong in every step I took that could give you offence, and my future life shall show my respectful gratitude. We walked on till we came to the coach where was my dear father. Pamela said my master, tell Mr. Williams who that good man is. Oh, Mr. Williams, said I, it is my dear father, and my master was pleased to say one of the honestest men in England. Pamela owes everything that she is to be as well as her being to him, for I think she would not have brought me to this, nor made so great resistance, but for the good lessons and religious education she had imbibed from him. Mr. Williams said, taking father's hand, you see good Mr. Andrews with inexpressible pleasure, no doubt, the fruits of your pious care, and now are in a way with your beloved daughter, to reap the happy effects of it. I am overcome, said my dear father, with his honour's goodness, but I can only say, I bless God and bless him. Mr. Williams and I being nearer the coach than my master, and he offering to draw back, to give way to him. He kindly said, pray Mr. Williams, oblige Pamela with your hand, and step in yourself. He bowed and took my hand, and my master made him step in and sit next to me, all that ever he could do, and set himself over against him, next to my father, who sat against me. And he said, Mr. Andrews, I told you yesterday that the divine you saw was not Mr. Williams. I now tell you, this gentleman is. And though I have been telling him I think not myself obliged to his intentions, yet I will own that Pamela and you are. And though I won't promise to love him, I would have you. Here, said Mr. Williams, you have a way of overcoming, that hardly all my reading affords an instance of. And it is the more noble, as it is on this side, as I presume, the happy ceremony, which, great as your fortune is, will lay you under an obligation, to so much virtue and beauty, when the lady becomes yours, for you will then have a treasure that princes might envy you. Said my generous master, God bless him. Mr. Williams, it is impossible that you and I should long live at variance, when our sentiments agree so well together on subjects, the most material. I was quite confounded, and my master, seeing it, took my hand and said, Look up, my good girl, and collect yourself. Don't injure Mr. Williams and me so much, as to think we are capping compliments, as we used to do verses at school. I dare answer for us both, that we say not a syllable we don't think. Oh, sir, said I, how unequal am I to all this goodness? Every moment that passes adds to the weight of the obligations you oppress me with. Think not too much of that, said he most generously. Mr. Williams complements to you have great advantage of mine. For though equally sincere I have a great deal to say, and to do, to compensate the sufferings I have made you undergo, and at last must sit down dissatisfied, because those will never be balanced by all I can do for you. He saw my dear father quite unable to support these affecting instances of his goodness, and he let go my hand, and took his, and said, Seeing his tears, I wonder not, my dear Pamela's father, that your honest heart springs thus to your eyes, to see all her trials at an end. I will not pretend to say that I had formerly either power or will, to act thus, but since I began to resolve on the change you see, I have reaped so much pleasure in it that my own interest will keep me steady, for till within these few days I knew not what it was to be happy. Poor Mr. Williams, with tears of joy in his eyes, said, How happily sir have you been touched by the divine grace, before you have been hurried into the commission of sins, that the deepest penitence could hardly have atoned for. God has enabled you to stop short of the evil, and you have nothing to do but to rejoice in the good, which now will be doubly so, because you can receive it without the least inward reproach. You do well, said he, to remind me, that I owe all this to the grace of God. I bless him for it, and I thank this good man for his excellent lessons to his daughter. I thank her for following them, and I hope, from her good example, and your friendship, Mr. Williams, in time to be half as good as my tutorous. And that, said he, I believe you'll own will make me, without disparagement to any man, the best fox-hunter in England. Mr. Williams was going to speak, and he said, You put on so grave a look, Mr. Williams, that I believe what I have said, with you practical good folks, is liable to exception. But I see we are become quite grave, and we must not be too serious neither. What a happy creature, my dear mother, is your Pamela. O may my thankful heart, in the good use I may be enabled to make of the blessings before me, via means to continue this delightful prospect, to a long date, for the sake of the dear good gentleman who thus becomes the happy instrument in the hand of Providence, to bless all he smiles upon. To be sure I shall never enough acknowledge the value he is pleased to express for my unworthiness, in that he has prevented my wishes, and unasked sought the occasion of being reconciled to a good man, who for my sake had incurred his displeasure, and whose name he could not, a few days before, permit to pass through my lips, but see the wonderful ways of Providence. The very things that I most dreaded his seeing or knowing, the contents of my papers, have, as I hope, satisfied all his scruples, and been a means to promote my happiness. Henceforth let not us poor, short-sighted mortals pretend to rely on our own wisdom, or vainly think that we are absolutely to direct for ourselves. I have abundant reason, I am sure, to say that, when I was most disappointed, I was nearer my happiness. For had I made my escape, which was so often my chief point in view, and what I had placed my heart upon, I had escaped the blessings now before me, and fallen, perhaps headlong, into the miseries I would have avoided, and yet, after all, it was necessary I should take the steps I did to bring on this wonderful turn. O the unsearchable wisdom of God, and how much ought I to adore the divine goodness, and humble myself, who have made a poor instrument, as I hope not only to magnify his graciousness to this fine gentleman and myself, but also to dispense benefits to others which God of his mercy grant. In the agreeable manner I have mentioned did we pass the time in our second happy tour, and I thought Mrs. Jukes would have sunk into the ground when she saw Mr. Williams brought in the coach with us, and treated so kindly. We dined together in a most pleasant, easy and frank manner, and I found I need not from my master's generosity to be under any restraint as to my conduct to this good clergyman. For he, so often as he fancied I was reserved, moved me to be free with him and to him, and several times called upon me to help my father and Mr. Williams, and seemed to take great delight in seeing me carve as, indeed, he does in everything I do. After dinner we went and looked into the chapel, which is a very pretty one, and very decent, and when finished as he designs it, against his next coming down will be a very pretty place. My heart, my dear mother, when I first set my foot in it, throbbed a good deal with awful joy at the thoughts of the solemnity, which I hope will in a few days be performed here, and when I came up towards the little pretty altar-piece, while they were looking at a communion picture and saying it was prettily done, I gently stepped into a corner out of sight and poured out my soul to God on my knees in supplication and thankfulness, that after having been so long absent from divine service, the first time I entered into a house dedicated to his honour should be with such blessed prospects before me, and begging of God to continue me humble and to make me not unworthy of his mercies, and that he would be pleased to bless the next author of my happiness, my good master. I heard my master say, Where's Pamela? and so I broke off sooner than I would, and went up to him. He said, Mr. Williams, I hope I have not so offended you by my conduct past, for really it is what I ought to be ashamed of, as that you will refuse to officiate and to give us your instructions here to-morrow. Mr. Peters was so kind for the first time to offer it, but I knew it would be inconvenient for him, and besides, I was willing to make this request to you an introduction to our reconciliation. Mr. Peters said he, most willingly and most gratefully will I obey you, though if you expect a discourse I am wholly unprepared for the occasion. I would not have it, replied he, pointed to any particular occasion, but if you have one upon the text there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repentant than over ninety-nine just persons that need no repentance, and if it makes me not such a sad fellow as to be pointed at by mine and the lady's servants we shall have here. I shall be well content, to the general subject added he makes me speak of that, but any one you please will do, for you cannot make a bad choice, I am sure. Sir said he, I have one upon that text, but I am ready to think that a thanksgiving one which I made on a great mercy to myself, if I may be permitted to make my own acknowledgments of your favor the subject of a discourse will be suitable to my grateful sentiments. It is on the text, Now letest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation. That text, said I, will be a very suitable one for me. Not so, Pamela, said my master, because I don't let you depart in peace, but I hope you will stay here with content. Oh, but sir, said I, I have seen God's salvation, I am sure, added I. If anybody ever had reason, I have to say with the blessed virgin, my soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath regarded the lowest state of his handmaiden, and exalted one of low degree. Said my good father, I am sure, if there were time for it, the Book of Roof would afford a fine subject for the honor done my dear child. Why, good Mr. Andrews, said my master, should you say so? I know that story, and Mr. Williams will confirm what I say, that my good girl here will confer at least as much honor as she will receive. Sir, said I, you are inexpressibly generous, but I shall never think so. Why, my Pamela said he, that's another thing. It will be best for me to think you will, and it will be kind in you to think you shan't. And then we shall always have an excellent rule, to regulate our conduct by to one another. Was not this finally nobly, wisely said, my dear mother? Oh, what a blessed thing it is to be matched to a man of sense and generosity. How edifying! How, but what shall I say? I am at a loss for words. Mr. Williams said, when we came out, the little chapel, he would go home and look over his discourses. For one for the next day. My master said, I have one thing to say before you go. When my jealousy, on account of this good girl, put me upon such a vindictive conduct to you, you know I took a bond for the money I had caused you to be troubled for. I really am ashamed of the matter, because I never intended when I presented it to you. To have it again you may be sure. But I knew not what might happen between you and her, nor how far matters might have gone between you. And so I was willing to have that in awe over you. And I think it is no extraordinary present, therefore, to give you up your bond again cancelled. And so he took it from his pocket and gave it him. I think, added he, all the charges attending it, and the trouble you had, were defrayed by my attorney. I ordered that they should. They were, sir, said he, and ten thousand thanks to you for this goodness, and the kind manner in which you do it. If you will go, Mr. William, said he, shall my chariot carry you home? No, sir, answered he. I thank you. My time will be so well employed all the way in thinking of your favors that I choose to meditate upon them as I walk home. My dear father was a little uneasy about his habit, for appearing at chapel next day, because of Mrs. Darnford and the servants. For fear-poor man, he should disgrace my master. And he told me, when he was mentioning this of my master's kind present of twenty guineas for clothes, for you both. Which made my heart truly joyful. But oh, to be sure, I can never deserve the hundredth part of his goodness. It is almost a hard thing to be under the weight of such deep obligations on one side, and such a sense of one's own unworthiness on the other. Oh, what a godlike power is that of doing good. I envy the rich and the great for nothing else. My master coming to us just then, I said, Oh, sir, will your bounty no no limits? My dear father has told me what you have given him. A trifle, Pamela, said he, a little earnest only of my kindness. Say no more of it. But did I not hear the good man expressing some sort of concern, for somewhat? Hide nothing from me, Pamela. Only, sir, said I, he knew not how to absent himself from divine service, and yet is afraid of distracing you by appearing. Fie, Mr. Andrews, said he. I thought you knew that the outward appearance was nothing. I wish I had as good a habit inwardly as you have. But I'll tell you, Pamela. Your father is not so much thinner than I am, nor much shorter. He and I will walk up together to my wardrobe, though it is not so well stored here as in Bedfordshire. And so said he pleasantly, Don't you pretend to come near us till I call for you, for you must not yet see how men dress and undress themselves. Oh, sir, said my father, I beg to be excused. I am sorry you were told. So am not I, said my master. Ray come along with me. He carried him upstairs and showed him several suits, and would have had him take his choice. My poor father was quite confounded, for my master saw not any he thought too good, and my father none that he thought bad enough, and my good master, at last, he fixed his eye upon a fine drab, which he thought looked the plainest, would help him to try the coat and wasket on himself. And indeed one would not have thought it, because my master is taller and rather plumper, as I thought, but as I saw afterwards they fitted him very well, and, being plain and lined with the same colour and made for travelling in a coach, pleased my poor father much. He gave him the whole suit, and, calling up Mrs. Jukes, said, Let these clothes be well aired against tomorrow morning. Mr. Andrews brought only with him his common apparel, not thinking to stay Sunday with us, and pray, see for some of my stockings, and whether any of my shoes will fit him, and see also for some of my linen, for we have put the good man quite out of his course by keeping him Sunday over. He was then pleased to give him the silver buckles out of his own shoes. So, my good mother, you must expect to see, my dear father, a great bow. Like said my master, he wants none, for his own venerable white locks are better than all the parooks in England. But I am sure I have hats enough somewhere. I'll take care of everything, sir, said Mrs. Jukes, and my poor father, when he came to me, could not refrain tears. I know not how, said he, to comport myself under these great favours. Oh, my child! It is all owing to the divine goodness, and your virtue. Sunday. This blessed day all the family seemed to take delight to equip themselves for the celebration of the Sabbath in the little chapel, and Lady Jones and Mr. Williams came in her chariot, and the two missies darned for it in their own. And we breakfasted together in a most agreeable manner. My dear father appeared quite spruce and neat, and was quite caressed by the three ladies. As we were at breakfast, my master told Mr. Williams, we must let the Psalms alone, he doubted, for want of a clerk. But Mr. Williams said, No, nothing should be wanting that he could supply. My father said, if it might be permitted him, he would, as well as he was able, perform that office, for it was always what he had taken delight in. And as I knew he had learnt psalmody formally in his youth, and had constantly practised it in private at home on Sunday evenings, as well as endeavoured to teach it in the little school he so unsuccessfully set up, at the beginning of his misfortunes, before he took to hard labour. I was in no pain for his undertaking it in this little congregation. They seemed much pleased with this, and so we went to chapel and made a pretty tolerable appearance. Mrs. Jukes and all the servants attending but the cook. And I never saw divine service performed with more psalmody, nor assisted out with greater devotion and decency. My master, Lady Jones, and the two Mrs. setting a lovely example. My good father performed his part with great applause, making the responses as if he had been a practised parish clerk, and giving the twenty-third psalm. The Lord is only my support, and he that doth me feed. How can I then lack anything, whereof I stand in need? In pastures green he feedeth me, where I do safely lie, and after leads me to the streams which run most pleasantly, and when I find myself near lost, then home he doth me take, conducting me in his right paths, iron for his own namesake. And though I were I not death's door, yet would I fear no ill, for both thy rod and shepherd's crook afford me comfort still. Thou hast my table richly spread in presence of my foe, thou hast my head with balm refreshed, my cup doth overflow. And finally, while breath doth last, thy grace shall me defend, and in the house of God will I my life for ever spend. Which consisted of but three staves. We had it all, and he read the line, and began the tune with a heart so entirely affected with the duty, that he went through it distinctly, calmly, and fervently at the same time, so that Lady Jones whispered me, that good man were fit for all companies, and present to every lottable occasion. And Miss Darnford said, God bless the dear good man. You must think how I rejoiced in my mind. I know, my dear mother, you can say most of the shortest psalms by heart, so I need not transcribe it, especially as your chief treasure is a Bible, and a worthy treasure it is. I know nobody makes more or better use of it. Mr. Williams gave us an excellent discourse on liberality and generosity, and the blessings attending the right use of riches, from the eleventh chapter of Proverbs, verses 24 and 25. There is that scattereth, and yet increaseeth, and there is that withholdeth more than is meat. But it tendeth to poverty, the liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself. And he treated the subject in so handsome a manner, that my master's delicacy, who at first was afraid of some personal compliments, was not offended, Mr. Williams judiciously keeping to generals, and it was an elegant and sensible discourse, as my master said. My father was in the clerk's place, just under the desk, and Lady Jones by her footmen whispered him to favour us with another psalm, when the sermon was ended. He thinking, as he said afterwards that the former was rather of the longest, chose the shortest in the book, which you know is the 117. O all ye nations of the world, praise ye the Lord always, and all ye people everywhere, set forth his noble praise, for great his kindness is to us, his truth doth not decay, wherefore praise ye the Lord our God, praise ye the Lord all way. My master thanked Mr. Williams for his excellent discourse, and so did the ladies, as also did I most heartily, and he was pleased to take my dear father by the hand, as did also Mr. Williams, and thanked him. The ladies likewise made him their compliments, and the servants all looked upon him with countenances of respect and pleasure. At dinner, do what I could, I was forced to take the upper end of the table, and my master sat at the lower end between Mr. Williams and my father, and he said, Pamela, you are so dexterous, that I think you may help the ladies yourself, and I will help my two good friends. I should have told you, though, that I dressed myself in a flowered satin that was my ladies, and looked quite fresh and good, and which was given me, at first, by my master, and the ladies who had not seen me out of my homespun before, made me abundance of fine compliments as soon as they saw me first. Talking of the psalms just after dinner, my master was very naughty, if I may say so, for he said to my father, Mr. Andrews, I think in the afternoon, as we shall have only prayers, we may have one longer psalm, and what think you, of the one hundred and thirty-seventh. Oh, good sir, said I, pray, pray, not a word more. Say what you will, Pamela, said he. You shall sing it to us, according to your own version, before these good ladies go away. My father smiled, but was half concerned for me, and said, Will it bear and please your honour? Oh, I, said he, never fear it, so long as Mrs. Jukes is not in the hearing. This excited all the ladies' curiosity, and Lady Jones said, She would be loathed to desire to hear anything that would give me concern, but should be glad I would give leave for it. Indeed, madam, said I, I must beg you won't insist upon it. I cannot bear it. You shall see it, indeed, ladies, said my master, and pray, Pamela, not always as you please, neither. Then pray, sir, said I, not in my hearing, I hope. Sure, Pamela, returned he, you would not write what is not fit to be heard. But sir, said I, there are particular cases, times, and occasions that may make a thing passable at one time that would not be tolerable at another. Oh, said he, let me judge of that, as well as you, Pamela, these ladies know a good part of your story, and let me tell you what they know is more to your credit than mine, so that if I have no averseness to reviving the occasion you may very well bear it. Said he, I will put you out of your pain, Pamela, here it is, and took it out of his pocket. I stood up and said, indeed, sir, I can't bear it. I hope you'll allow me to leave the room a minute, if you will read it. Indeed, but I won't, answered he. Lady Joan said, pray good, sir, don't let us hear it if Mrs. Andrews be so unwilling. Well, Pamela, said my master, I will put it to your choice whether I shall read it now, or you will sing it by and by. That's very hard, sir, said I. It must be one I assure you, said he. Why then, sir, replied I, you must do as you please, for I cannot sing it. Well, then, said my master, I find I must read it, and yet, added he, after all, I had as well let it alone, for it is no great reputation to myself. Oh, then, said Miss Darnford, pray let us hear it, to choose. Why then, proceeded he, the case was this. Pamela, I find, when she was in the time of her confinement, that is, added he, when she was taken prisoner in order to make me one, for that is the upshot of the matter. In the journal she kept, which was intended for nobody's perusal but her parents, tells them that she was importuned one Sunday by Mrs. Jukes to sing a psalm, but her spirits not permitting she declined it, but after Mrs. Jukes was gone down she says she recollected that the one hundred thirty-seven psalm was applicable to her own case, Mrs. Jukes having often on other days in vain besought her to sing a psalm, that thereupon she turned it more to her own supposed case, and believing Mrs. Jukes had a design against her honour, and looking upon her as her jailer she thus gives her version of this psalm. But pray, Mr. Williams, do you read one verse of the common translation, and I will read one of Pamela's. Then Mr. Williams, pooling out his little pocket-common prayer-book, read the first two stanzas. When we did sit in Babylon the rivers round about, then in remembrance of Sion the tears for grief burst out. We hanged our harps and instruments, the willow trees upon, for in that place men for that use had planted many a one. My master then read, When sad I sat and be in hall, all guarded round about, and thought of every absent friend the tears for grief burst out. My joys and hopes all overthrown, my heart strings almost broke, unfit my mind for melody, much more to bear a joke. The lady said, it was very pretty, and Miss Donford, that somebody else had more need to be concerned than the verse of fire. I knew, said my master, I should get no credit by showing this. But let us read on, Mr. Williams, so Mr. Williams read. Even they to whom we prisoners were said to us tauntingly, now let us hear your Hebrew songs and pleasant melody. Now this, said my master, is very near and read. Then she to whom I prisoner was said to me tauntingly, now cheer your heart and sing a song and tune your mind to joy. Mighty sweet, said Mr. Williams, but let us see how the next verse is turned. It is this. Alas, said we, who can once frame, his heavy heart to sing, the praises of our living God, thus under a strange king. Why, said my master, it is turned with beautiful simplicity. Thus, alas, said I, how can I frame my heavy heart to sing, or tune my mind while thus enthralled by such a wicked thing? Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, Oh dear madam, could you wish that we should be deprived of this new instance of your genius and accomplishments? Oh, said my dear father, you will make my good child proud. No, said my master very generously. Hamela can't be proud. For no one is proud to hear themselves praised, but those who are not used to it. Would proceed, Mr. Williams. He read, But yet, if I, Jerusalem, out of my heart, let slide, then let my fingers quite forget the warbling harp to guide. Well, now, said my master, for Hamela's version, but yet, if from my innocence I even and thought should slide, then let my fingers quite forget the sweet spinot to guide, Mr. Williams read, Then let my tongue within my mouth be tied forever fast, if I rejoice before I see thy full deliverance past. This also, said my master, is very near. And let my tongue within my mouth be locked forever fast, if I rejoice before I see my full deliverance past. Now good sir, said I, oblige me, don't read any further, pray don't. Oh, pray, madam, said Mr. Williams. Let me beg to have the rest read, for I long to know whom you make the sons of Edom, and how you turn the psalmist's execrations against the insulting Babylonians. Well, Mr. Williams, replied I, you should not have said so. Oh, said my master, that is one of the best things of all. Our Mrs. Juke stands for Edom's sons, and we must not lose this. Because I think, at one of my panel's excellencies, that, though thus oppressed, she prays for no harm upon the oppressor. Read Mr. Williams the next stanza. So he read, Therefore, O Lord, remember now the cursed noise and cry, that Edom's sons against us made, when they raised our city. For, Lord, their cruel words, when with a mighty sound, they cried down, yea down with it, unto the very ground. Well, said my master, here seems, in what I am going to read, a little bit of a curse indeed. But I think it makes no ill figure in the comparison. And thou, Almighty, recompense the evils I endure, from those who seek my sad disgrace so costless to procure. And now, said he, for Edom's sons, though a little severe in the imputation. Remember, Lord, this Mrs. Juke's, when with a mighty sound, she cries down with her chastity, down to the very ground. Sure, sir, said I, this might have been spared. But the ladies in Mr. Williams said, No, by no means. And I see the poor wicked woman has no favors among them. Now, said my master, read the psalmist's heavy curses. And Mr. Williams read, Even so shall thou, O Babylon, at length to dust be brought, And happy shall that man be called, that our revenge hath wrought. Yea blessed shall the man be called, that takes thy little ones, And dashes them in pieces small, against the very stones. Yes, he said, very kindly, as my Pamela turned these lines. Even so shall thou, O wicked one, at length to shame be brought, And happy shall all those be called, that my deliverance wrought. Yea blessed shall the man be called, that shames thee of thy evil, And saves me from thy vile attempts, and thee too, from the devil. I fancy this blessed man, said my master, smiling, was at that time hoped to be you, Mr. Williams, if the truth was known. Sir, said he, whoever it was intended for then, it can be nobody but your good self now. I could hardly hold up my head for the praises the kind ladies were pleased to heap upon me. I am sure by this they are very partial in my favor. All because my master is so good to me, and loves to hear me praised. For I see no such excellence in these lines as they would make me believe, besides what is borrowed from the psalmist. We all, as before, and the cook made too, attended the prayers of the church in the afternoon. And my dear father concluded with the following stanzas of the one hundred sixty-fifth psalm, suitably magnifying the holy name of God for all mercies. But did not observe altogether the method in which they stand, which was the last necessary, he thought, as he gave out the lines. The Lord is just in all his ways, his works are holy all, and he is near all those that do in truth upon him call. He the desires of all them that fear him will fulfill, and he will hear them when they cry, and save them all he will. The eyes of all do wait on thee, thou dust them all relieve, and thou to each sufficient food in season do dust give. Thou openest thy plenteous hand, and bountiously dust fill, all things whatever that do live, with gifts of thy good will. My thankful mouth shall gladly speak the praises of the Lord. All flesh, to praise his holy name, forever shall accord. We walked in the garden till tea was ready, and as he went by the back door my master said to me, of all the flowers in the garden, the sunflower is the fairest. O sir, said I, let that be now forgot! Mr. Williams heard him say so, and seemed a little out of countenance. Whereupon my master said, I mean not to make you serious, Mr. Williams, but we see how strangely things are brought about. I see other scenes hereabouts that, in my Pamela's dangers, give me more cause of concern than anything you ever did should give you. Sir, said he, you are very generous. My master and Mr. Williams afterwards walked together for a quarter of an hour, and talked about general things, and some scholastic subjects, and joined us very well pleased with one another's conversation. Lady Jones said, putting herself on one side of me, as my master was on the other. But praise her, when is the happy time to be! We want it over, that we may have you with us as long afterwards as you can. Said my master. I would have it tomorrow or next day at farthest, if Pamela will, for I have sent for a license and the messenger will be here to-night, or early in the morning, I hope. But, added he, pray Pamela, do not take beyond Thursday. She was pleased to say, sure it will not be delayed by you, madam, more than needs. Well, said he, now you are on my side. I will leave you with her to settle it, and I hope she will not let little bashful niceties be important with her. And so he joined the two misses. Lady Jones told me I was to blame. She would take upon her to say, if I delayed at a moment, because she understood Lady Davors was very uneasy at the prospect that it would be so, and if anything should happen it would be a sad thing. Madam, said I, when he was pleased to mention it to me first, he said it should be in fourteen days, and afterwards asked me if I would have it in the first or the second seven. I answered, for how could I do otherwise? In the second. He desired it might not be the last day of the second seven. Now, madam, said I, as he was then pleased to speak his mind, no doubt, I would not, for anything, seem too forward. Well, but, said she, as he now urges you in so gentile and gentimately a manner for a short a day, I think, if I was in your place, I would agree to it. She saw me hesitate and blush, and said, well, you know best. But I say only what I would do. I said I would consider of it, and if I saw he was very earnest to be sure I should think I ought to oblige him. Mrs. Darnford were begging to be at the wedding and to have a ball, and they said, pray, Mrs. Andrews, second our request, and we shall be greatly obliged to you. Indeed, ladies, said I, I cannot promise that, if I might. Why so, said they? Because, answered I, I know not what. But I think one may, with pleasure, celebrate an anniversary of one's nuptials, but the day itself, indeed, ladies, I think it is too solemn of business, for the parties of our sex to be very gay upon. It is a quite serious and awful affair, and I am sure, in your own cases, you would be of my mind. Why, then, said Mrs. Darnford, the more need one has to be as light-hearted and merry as one can. I told you, said my master, what sort of an answer you'd have from Pamela. The younger Miss said she never heard of such grave folks in her life on such an occasion. Why, sir, said she, I hope you'll sing psalms all day, and this will fast and pray. Such sackcloth and ashes-doings for a wedding did I never hear of. She spoke a little spitefully, I thought, and I returned no answer. I shall have enough to do, I reckon, in a while, if I am to answer everyone that will envy me. We went in to tea, and all that the ladies could prevail upon my master for was a dancing match before he left this county. But Miss Darnford said it should then be at their house, for truly if she might not be at the wedding she would be affronted and come no more hither till we had been there. When they were gone my master would have had my father stay till the affair was over, but he begged he might set out as soon as it was light in the morning. For, he said, my mother would be doubly uneasy at his stay, and he burned with impatience to let her know all the happy things that had befallen her daughter. When my master found him so desirous to go he called Mr. Thomas, and ordered him to get a particular bay-horse ready betimes in the morning for my father, and a porter-man too, to put his things in, and to attend him a day's journey, and if, said he, Mr. Andrews chooses it see him safe to his own home, and added he, since that horse will serve you, Mr. Andrews, to ride backwards and forwards to see us when we go into bed for sure, I make you a present of it, with the accontraments. And seeing my father going to speak, he added, I won't be said nay, oh how good was this! He also said a great many kind things at supper-time, and gave him all the papers he had of mine, but desired when he and my mother had read them that he would return them to him again. And then he said, so affectionate a father and daughter may, perhaps be glad to be alone together, therefore remember me to your good wife, and tell her, it will not be long, I hope, before I see you together, on a visit to your daughter, at my other house. And so I wish you good night, and a good journey, if you go before I see you. And then he shook hands, and left my dear father almost unable to speak, through the sense of his favours and goodness. You may believe, my dear mother, how loathe I was to part with my good father, and he was also unwilling to part with me. But he was so impatient to see you, and tell you the blessed tidings with which his heart overflowed, that I could hardly wish to detain him. Mrs. Jukes brought two bottles of cherry brandy, and two of cinnamon water, and some cake, and they were put up in the portamen too, with my father's newly presented clothes, for he said he would not, for anything, be seen in them in his neighbourhood, till I was actually known by everybody, to be married, nor would he lay out any part of the twenty guineas till then neither, for fear of reflections, and then he would consult me as to what he would buy. Well, said I, as you please, my dear father, and I hope now we shall often have the pleasure of hearing from one another without needing any art or contrivances. He said he would go to bed at times, that he might be up as soon as it was light, and so he took leave of me and said he would not love me if I got up in the morning to see him go, which would but make us both loathe to part, and grieve us both all day. Mr. Thomas brought him a pair of boots, and told him he would call him up at the peep of day, and put up everything overnight, and so I received his blessing and his prayers, and his kind promises of procuring the same from you, my dear mother, and went up to my closet with a heavy heart, and yet a half-pleased one, if I may so say, for that, as he must go, he was going to the best of wives, and with the best of tidings. But I begged he would not work so hard as he had done, for I was sure my master would not have given him twenty guineas for clothes, if he had not designed to do something else for him, and that he should be the less concerned at receiving benefits from my good master, because he, who had so many persons to employ in his large possessions, could make him serviceable to a degree equivalent without hurting anybody else. He promised me fair, and, pray, dear mother, see he performs. I hope my master will not see this, for I will not send at you, at present, till I can send you the best of news, and the rather, as my dear father, can supply the greatest part of what I have written since the papers he carries you, by his own observation. So good night, my dear mother, and God send my father a safe journey and a happy meeting to you both, Monday. Mr. Cole-brand, being returned, my master came up to me to my closet and brought me the license. Oh, how my heart fluttered at the sight of it! Now Pamela said he, tell me, if you can oblige me with the day. Your word is all that's wanting. I made bold to kiss his dear hand, and, though unable to look up, said, I know not what to say, sir, to all your goodness. I would not, for any consideration, that you should believe me capable of receiving negligently an honour, that all the duty of a long life, were it to be lent me, will not be sufficient to enable me to be grateful for. I ought to resign myself in everything I may or can implicitly to your will. But, but what? said he, with a kind impatience. Why, sir, said I, when from last Thursday you mentioned four days I had reason to think that term your choice, and my heart is so wholly yours, that I am afraid of nothing but that I may be forwarder than you wish. Impossible, my dear creature, said he, and folded me in his arms. Impossible! If this be all, it shall be set about this moment, and this happy day shall make you mine. I'll send away instantly, said the dear gentleman, and was going. I said, no, pray, sir, pray, sir, hear me. Indeed, it cannot be today, cannot, said he. No, indeed, sir, said I, and was ready to sink to see his generous impatience. Why, flattered you then, my fond heart, replied he, with the hope that it might. Sir, said I, I will tell you what I had thought, if you'll vouch safe me your attention. You then, said he, I have, sir, proceeded I, a great desire that, whenever the day is, it may be on a Thursday. On a Thursday my dear father and mother were married, and though poor, they are a very happy pair. On a Thursday your poor Pamela was born. On a Thursday my dear good lady took me from my parents into her protection. On a Thursday, sir, you caused me to be carried away to this place, to which I now, by God's goodness, and your favour, owe so amazingly all my present prospects. And on a Thursday it was, you named to me, that fourteen days from that, you would confirm my happiness. Now, sir, if you please to indulge my superstitious folly, you will greatly oblige me. I was sorry, sir, for this reason, when you bid me not defer to the last day of the fourteen, that Thursday and next week was that last day. This Pamela is a little superstitious, I must need say. And I think you should begin now to make another day in the week a happy one, as, for example, on a Monday may you say, my father and mother concluded to be married on the Thursday following. On a Monday, so many years ago, my mother was preparing all her matters to be brought to bed on the Thursday following. On a Monday, several weeks ago, it was that you had but two days more to stay, till you was carried away on Thursday. On a Monday I myself, said he, well remember, it was that I wrote you the letter that prevailed on you so kindly to return to me, and on the same day you did return to my house here, which I hope, my girl, will be as propitious an error as any you have named. And now, lastly, will you say, which will crown the work? And on a Monday I was married. Come, come, my dear, added he. Thursday has rained long enough for conscience. Let us now set Monday in its place, or at least on an equality with it, since you see it has a very good title. And as we now stand in the week before us, claims priority. And then I hope we shall make Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday as happy days as Monday and Thursday, and so, by God's blessing, move round as the days move in a delightful circle, so we are at a loss what day to prefer to the rest. Oh, how charmingly was this said, and how sweetly kind. Indeed, sir, said I, you rally my folly very agreeably, but don't let a little matter stand in the way when you are so generously obliging and a greater. Indeed I like Thursday best, if I may choose. Well then, said he, if you can say you have a better reason than this I will oblige you, else I'll send away for the parson this moment, and so I protest he was going. Dear sirs, how I trembled. Stay, stay, sir, said I. We have a great deal to say first. I have a deal of silly prat to trouble you with. Well say then, in a minute, replied he, the most material for all we have to say may be talked of while the parson is coming. Oh, but indeed, and indeed, said I, it cannot be today. Well then shall it be tomorrow, said he. Why, sir, if it must not be on a Thursday you have given so many pleasant distinctions for a Monday that let it then be next Monday. What? A week still? said he. Dear, answered I, if you please, for that will be as you enjoined within the second seven days. Why girl, said he, till be seven months till next Monday. Let it, said he, if not tomorrow, beyond Wednesday. I protest I will stay no longer. Then, sir, returned I, please to defer it, however, for one day more, and it will be my beloved Thursday. If I consent to defer it till then, may I hope, my Pamela, said he, that next Thursday shall certainly be the happy day. Yes, sir, said I, and I am sure I looked very foolishly. And yet, my dear father and mother, why should I, with such a fine gentleman, and whom I so dearly love, and so much to my honor too, but there is something greatly awful upon my mind, in the solemn circumstance, and a change of condition never to be recalled, though all the prospects are so desirable, and I can but wonder at the thoughtless precipitancy with which most young folks run into this important change of life. So now, my dear parents, have I been brought to fix so near a day as next Thursday, and this is Monday. Oh, dear, it makes one out of breath almost to think of it. This, though, was a great cut-off a whole week out of ten days. I hope I am not too forward. I'm sure if it obliges my dear master, I am justified, for he deserves of me all things in my poor power. After this he rode out on horseback, attended by Abraham, and did not return till night, how by degrees things steal upon one. I thought even this small absence tedious, and the more, as we expected him home to dinner. I wish I may not be too fond, and make him indifferent, but yet my dear father and mother, you were always fond of one another, and never indifferent. Let the world run as it would. When he returned, he said, he had had a pleasant ride, and was led out to a greater distance than he intended. At supper he told me that he had a great mind Mr. Williams should marry us, because, he said, it would show a thorough reconciliation on his part. But, said he, most generously, I am apprehensive from what passed between you that the poor man will take it hardly. But as a sort of insult, which I am not capable of, what says my girl? Do you think he would? I hope not, sir, said I. As to what he may think, I can't answer. But as to any reason for his thoughts, I can. For indeed, sir, said I, you have been already so generous, that he cannot, I think, mistake your goodness. He then spoke with some resentment of Lady Dabber's and I asked if anything new had occurred. Yes, said he, I have had a letter delivered me from her impertinent husband, professedly at her instigation, that amounted to little less than a piece of insolent bravery, on supposing I was about to marry you. I was so provoked, added he, that after I had read it I tore it in a hundred pieces and scattered them in the air, and bid the man who brought it let his master know what I had done with his letter, and so would not permit him to speak to me, as he would feign have done. I think the fellow talked somewhat of his lady coming hither. But she shall not set her foot within my doors, and I suppose this treatment will hinder her. I was much concerned at this. And he said, Had I a hundred sisters, Pamela, their opposition should have no weight with me, and I did not intend you should know it. But you can't but expect a little difficulty from the pride of my sister, who have suffered so much from that of her brother, and we are too nearly allied in mind, as well as blood, I find. But this is not her business, and if she would have made it so, she should have done it with more decency. Little occasion had she to boast of her birth, that knows not what belongs to good manners. I said I am very sorry, sir, to be the unhappy occasion of a misunderstanding between so good a brother and so worthy a sister. Don't say so, Pamela, because this is an unavoidable consequence of the happy prospect before us. Only bear it well yourself, because she is my sister, and leave it to me to make her sensible of her own rashness. If, sir, said I, the most lowly behaviour and humble deportment, and in everything showing a dutiful regard to good lady Davers, will have any weight with her ladyship, assure yourself of all in my power to mollify her. No, Pamela, returned he, don't imagine, when you are my wife, I will suffer you to do anything unworthy of that character. I know the duty of a husband, and will protect your gentleness to the utmost, as much as if you were a princess by descent. You are inexpressibly good, sir, said I, but I am far from taking a gentle disposition to show a meanness of spirit, and this is a trial I ought to expect, and well I may bear it, that have so many benefits to set against it, which all spring from the same cause. Well, said he, all the matter shall be this. We will talk of our marriage as a thing to be done next week. I find I have spies upon me wherever I go, and whatever I do. But now I am on so laudable a pursuit that I value them not, nor those who employ them. I have already ordered my servants to have no conference with anybody for ten or twelve days to come, and Mrs. Jukes tells me every one names Thursday comes say night, for our nuptials. So I will get Mr. Peters, who wants to see my little chapel, to assist Mr. Williams under the notion of breakfasting with me next Thursday morning, since you won't have it sooner, and there will nobody else be wanting, and I will beg of Mr. Peters to keep it private, even from his own family, for a few days. Has my girl any objection? Oh, sir, answered I, you are so generous in all your ways. I can have no objections, but I hope Lady Davors in you will not proceed to irreconcilable lengths, and when her ladyship comes to see you, and to tarry with you two or three weeks as she used to do, I will keep close up, so as not to disgust her with the sight of me. Well, Pamela said he, we will talk of that afterwards. You must do, then, as I shall think fit, and I should be able to judge what both you and I ought to do. But what still aggravates the matter is that she should instigate the titled ape her husband to write to me, after she had so little succeeded herself. I wish I had kept his letter, that I might have shown you how a man that generally acts like a fool can take upon him to write like a lord, but I suppose it is of my sister's pinning, and he, poor man, is the humble copier. End of Section 23. Section 24 of Pamela or Virtue Rewarded. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Pamela or Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson. Section 24. Tuesday. Mr. Thomas is returned from you, my dear father, with the good news of your health, and your proceeding in your journey to my dear mother, where I hope to hear soon you are arrived. My master has just now been making me play upon the spinet, and sing to it, and was pleased to commend me for both. But he does so for everything I do. So partial does his goodness make him to me. One o'clock. We are just returned from an airing in the chariot, and I have been delighted with his conversation upon English authors, poets particularly. He entertained me also with the description of some of the curiosities he had seen in Italy and France, when he made what the polite world called the Grand Tour. He said he wanted to be at his other seat, for he knew not well how to employ himself here, having not proposed to stay half the time. And when I get there, Pamela, said he, you will hardly be troubled with so much of my company. After we have settled. For I have a great many things to adjust. And I must go to London, for I have accounts that have run on longer than ordinary with my banker there. And I don't know, added he, but the ensuing winter I may give you a little taste of the diversions of the town for a month or so. I said, his will and pleasure should determine mine, and I never would, as near as I could, have a desire after those, or any other entertainments that were not in his own choice. He was pleased to say, I make no doubt, but that I shall be very happy in you, and hope you will be so in me. For, said he, I have no very enormous vices to gratify, though I pretend not to the greatest purity, neither, my girl. Sir, said I, if you can account to your own mind, I shall always be easy in whatever you do. But our greatest happiness here, sir, continued I, is a very short duration, and this life, at the longest, is a poor transitory one, and I hope we shall be so happy as to be enabled to look forward, with comfort, to another, where our pleasures will be everlasting. You say well, Pamela, and I shall, by degrees, be more habituated to this way of thinking, as I more and more converse with you. But, at present, you must not be over-serious with me all at once. Though I charge you never forbear to mingle your sweet divinity in our conversation, whenever it can be brought in a propose, and with such a cheerfulness of temper, as shall not throw a gloomy cloud over our innocent enjoyments. I was abashed at this, and silent, fearing I had offended, but he said, if you attend rightly to what I said, I need not tell you again, Pamela, not to be discouraged from suggesting to me, on every proper occasion, the pious impulses of your own amiable mind. Sir, said I, you will be always indulgent, I make no doubt, to my imperfections so long as I mean well. My master made me dine with him, and would eat nothing but what I helped him to, and my heart is, every hour, more and more enlarged with his goodness and condescension. But still, what ails me, I wonder! A strange sort of weight hangs upon my mind, as Thursday draws on, which makes me often sigh involuntarily, and damps, at times, the pleasures of my delightful prospects. I hope this is not ominous, but only the foolish weakness of an over-thoughtful mind on an occasion the most solemn and important of one's life, next to the last scene, which shuts up all. I could be very serious, but I will commit all my ways to that blessed providence, which hitherto has so wonderfully conducted me through real evils to this hopeful situation. I only fear, and surely I have great reason, that I shall be too unworthy to hold the affections of so dear a gentleman. God teach me humility, and to know my own demerit, and this will be, next to his grace, my sureest guard, in the state of life to which, though most unworthy, I am going to be exalted. And don't cease your prayers for me, my dear parents, for perhaps this new condition may be subject to still worse hazards than those I have escaped, as would be the case were conceitedness, vanity, and pride, to take hold of my frail heart. And if I was, for my sins, to be left to my own conduct, a frail bark in a tempetuous ocean without ballast or other pilot than my own inconsiderate will. But my master said, on another occasion, that those who doubted most always erred least, and I hope I shall always doubt my own strength, my own worthiness. I will not trouble you with twenty sweet agreeable things that passed in conversation with my excellent benefactor, nor with the civilities of M. Col. Brand, Mrs. Jukes, and all the servants, who seem to be highly pleased with me, and with my conduct to them. And as my master hitherto finds no fault that I go too low, nor they that I carry it too high, I hope I shall continue to have everybody's goodwill. But yet will I not seek to gain any ones by little meannesses or debasements, but aim at a uniform and regular conduct, willing to conceal involuntary errors as I would have my own forgiven, and not too industrious to discover real ones, or to hide such, if any such should appear, as might encourage bad hearts, or unclean hands, in material cases, where my master should receive damage, or where the morals of the transgressors should appear willfully and habitually corrupt. In short, I will endeavor as much as I can that good servants shall find in me a kind encourager, in different ones be made better, by inspiring them with a laudable emulation, and bad ones, if not too bad in nature, and quite irreclaimable, reformed by kindness, expotulation, and even proper menaces, if necessary, but most by a good example. All this, if God pleases. Wednesday Now, my dear parents, I have but this one day between me and the most solemn rite that can be performed. My heart cannot yet shake off this heavy weight. Sure I am ungrateful to the divine goodness and the favor of the best of benefactors. Yet I hope I am not. For at times my mind is all exultation, with the prospect of what good to-morrow's happy somnity may possibly, by the leave of my generous master, put it in my power to do. Oh, how shall I find words to express, as I ought my thankfulness, for all the mercies before me. Wednesday evening. My dear master is all love and tenderness. He sees my weakness and generously pities and comforts me. I beg to be excused to supper, but he brought me down himself on my closet and placed me by him, bidding Abraham not wait. I could not eat, and yet I tried, for fear he should be angry. He kindly forbore to hint anything of the dreadful yet delightful to-morrow, and put, now and then, a little bit on my plate, and guided it to my mouth. I was concerned to receive his goodness with so ill a grace. Well, said he, if you won't eat with me, drink at least with me. I drank two glasses by his over-persuasions, and said, I am really ashamed of myself. Why, indeed, said he, my dear girl, I am not a very dreadful enemy, I hope. I cannot bear anything that is the least concerning to you. Oh, sir, said I, all is owing to the sense I have of my own unworthiness. To be sure it cannot be anything else. He rung for the things to be taken away, and then reached a chair, and sat down by me, and put his kind arms about me, and said the most generous and affecting things that ever dropped from the honey-flowing mouth of love. All I have not time to repeat, some I will. And, oh, indulge your foolish daughter, who troubles you with her weak nonsense, because what she has to say is so affecting to her, and because, if she went to bed, instead of scribbling, she could not sleep. This sweet confusion and thoughtfulness in my beloved Pamela, said the kind man, on the near approach of our happy union, when I hope all doubts are cleared up, and nothing of dishonour is apprehended, show me most abundantly what a wretch I was to attempt such purity with a worse intention. No wonder, that one so virtuous, should find herself deserted of life itself on a violent so dreadful to her honour, and seek a refuge in the shadow of death. But now, my dearest Pamela, that you have seen a purity on my side, as nearly imitating your own, as our sex can show to yours, and since I have, all the day long, suppressed even the least intimation of the coming days, that I might not alarm your tender mind, why all this concern, why all this affecting, yet sweet confusion. You have a generous friend, my dear girl, in me, a protector now, not a violator of your innocence, why then, once more I ask, this strange perplexity, this sweet confusion. Oh, sir, said I, and hid my face on his arm. Expect not reason from a foolish creature. You should have still indulged me in my closet. I am ready to beat myself for this ungrateful return to your goodness, but I know not what. I am, to be sure, a silly creature. Oh, had you but suffered me to stay by myself above, I should have made myself ashamed of so culpable behaviour, but goodness added to goodness every moment, and the sense of my own unworthiness quite overcome my spirits. Now, said the generous man, will I, though reluctantly, make a proposal to my sweet girl. If I have been too pressing for the day, if another day will still be more obliging, if you have fears you will not then have, you shall say but the word, and I'll submit. Yes, my Pamela, for though I have these three days past, thought every tedious hour a day till Thursday comes, if you earnestly desire it, I will postpone it. Say, my dear girl, freely say, but accept not my proposal, without great reason, which yet I will not ask for. Sir, said I, I can expect nothing but superlative goodness. I have been so long used to it from you. This is a most generous instance of it. But I fear, yes, I fear it will be too much the same thing, some days hence, when the happy yet fool that I am, dreaded time shall be equally near. Kind lovely charmer, said he, now do I see you are to be trusted with power, from the generous use you make of it. Not one offensive word or look, from me, shall wound your nicest thoughts. But pray try to subdue this overscrupulousness and unseasonable timidity. I persuade myself you will if you can. Indeed, sir, I will, said I, for I am quite ashamed of myself, with all these lovely views before me. The honors you do me, the kindness you show me. I cannot forgive myself. For, oh, if I know the least of this idle foolish heart of mine, it is not a misgiving thought of your goodness. And I should have bore it if it were capable of the least affectation. But, dear good, sir, leave me a little to myself, and I will take myself to a severe task then your goodness will let you do, and I will present my heart before you, a worthier offering to you, then at present its wayward follies will let it seem to be. But one thing is, one has no kind friend of one's own sex, to communicate one's foolish thoughts to, and to be strengthened by their comfortings. But I am left to myself, and, oh, what a weak silly thing I am. He kindly withdrew to give me time to recollect myself, and in about half an hour returned, and then, that he might not begin at once upon the subject and say at the same time something agreeable to me, said, Your father and mother have had a great deal of talk by this time about you, Pamela. Oh, sir, returned I, your goodness has made them quite happy. But I can't help being concerned about Lady Davvers. He said, I am vexed I did not hear the footman out, because it runs in my head he talked somewhat about her coming hither. She will meet with but an indifferent reception from me, unless she comes resolved to behave better than she writes. Pray, sir, said I, be pleased to bear with my good lady. For two reasons. What are they, said he, why first, sir, answered I, because she is your sister. And, to be sure, may very well think what all the world will, that you have much undervalued yourself in making me happy. And next, because if her ladyship finds you out of temper with her, it will still aggravate her more against me. And every time that any warm words you may have between you come into her mind, she will disdain me more. Don't concern yourself about it, said he, for we have more proud ladies than she in our other neighborhood, who perhaps have still less reason to be punctilious about their dissent, and yet will form themselves upon her example, and say, why, his own sister will not forgive him, nor visit him. And so, if I can subdue her spirit, which is more than her husband ever could, or indeed anybody else, it is a great point gained. And, if she gives me reason, I'll try for it, I assure you. Well, but, my dear girl, continued he, since the subject is so important, may I not say one word about it to-morrow? Sir, said I, I hope I shall be less a fool. I have talked as harshly to my heart as Lady Davors can do, and the naughty things suggest to me a better and more grateful behavior. He smiled, and, kissing me, said, I took notice, Pamela, of what you observed, that you have none of your own sex with you. I think it is a little hard upon you, and I should have liked you should have had Miss Darnford, but then her sister must have been asked. And I might as well make a public wedding, which, you know, would have required clothes and other preparations. Besides, added he, a foolish proposal was once made me of that second sister, who has two or three thousand pounds more than the other, left her by a godmother, and she can't help being a little peaked, though said he, it was a proposal they could not expect should succeed, for there is nothing in her person nor mind, and her fortune, as that must have been the only inducement, would not do by any means, and so I discouraged it at once. I am thinking, sir, said I, of another mortifying thing, too, that were you to marry a lady of birth and fortune answerable to your own, all the eve to the day would be taken up in reading, signing, and sealing of settlements, and portion, and such like. But now the poor Pamela brings you nothing at all. And the very clothes she wears so very low is she, are entirely the effects of your bounty, and that of your good mother. This makes me a little sad. For alas, sir, I am so much oppressed by your favors, and the sense of the obligations I lie under, that I cannot look up with the confidence that I otherwise should on this awful occasion. There is, my dear Pamela, said he, where the power is wanting as much generosity in the will as in the action. To all that know your story and your merit it will appear that I cannot recompense you for what I have made you suffer. You have had too many hard struggles and exercises, and have nobly overcome, and who shall grudge you the reward of the hard-bought victory? This affair is so much the act of my own will, that I glory in being capable of distinguishing so much excellence, and my fortune is the more pleasurable to me, as it gives me hope that I may make you some part of satisfaction for what you have undergone. This, sir, said I, is all goodness unmerited on my side, and makes my obligations the greater. I can only wish for more worthiness. But how poor is it to offer nothing but words for such generous deeds! And to say, I wish, for what is a wish, but the acknowledged want of power to oblige, and the demonstration of one's poverty in everything but will. And that, my dear girl, said he, is everything, to his all I want, to his all that heaven itself requires of us. But no more of these little doubts, though they are the natural impulses of a generous and grateful heart, I want not to be employed in settlements. Those are for such to regard, who make convenience in fortune the prime considerations. I have possessions ample enough for us both, and you deserve to share them with me, and you shall do it, with as little reserve as if you had brought me with the world reckons and equivalent, for as to my own opinion you bring me what is infinitely more valuable, an experienced truth, a well-tried virtue, and a wit and behavior more than equal to the station you will be placed in. To say nothing of this sweet person that itself might captivate a monarch, and of the meekness of temper and sweetness of disposition which make you superior to all the women I ever saw. Thus kind and soothing and honourably affectionate was the dear gentleman to the unworthy, doubting yet a short pamela, and thus patiently did he indulge, and generously pardon, my impertinent weakness. He offered to go up himself to Lady Jones in the morning, and reveal the matter to her, and desire her secrecy and presence, but I said, that would disoblige the young lady's Danford. No, sir, said I, I will cast myself upon your generous kindness, for why should I fear the kind protector of my weakness and the guide and director of my future steps? You cannot, said he, forgive Mrs. Jukes, for she must know it, and suffer her to be with you. Yes, sir, said I, I can. She is very civil to me now, and her former wickedness I will forgive, for the sake of the happy fruits that have attended it, and because you mention her. Well, said he, I will call her in, if you please. As you please, sir, said I, and he rung for her. And when she came in he said, Mrs. Jukes, I am going to entrust you with a secret. Sir, answered she, I will be sure to keep it as such. Why, said he, we intend to-morrow privately as possible, for our wedding-day, and Mr. Peters and Mr. Williams are to be here, as to breakfast with me, and to show Mr. Peters my little chapel. As soon as the ceremony is over, we will take a little airing in the chariot, as we have done at other times, and so it will not be wondered that we are dressed, and the two Parsons have promised secrecy, and will go home. I believe you can't well avoid letting one of the maids into the secret, but that I'll leave to you. Sir, replied she, we all concluded it would be in a few days, and I doubt it won't be long a secret. No, said he, I don't desire it should, but you know we are not provided for a public wedding, and I shall declare it when we go to Bedfordshire, which won't be long. But the men who lie in the outhouses need not know it, for by some means or other my sister Davers knows all that passes. Do you know, sir, said she, that her ladyship intends to be down here with you in a few days? Her servant told me so, who brought you the letter you were angry at. I hope, said he, we shall be set out for Tother House first, and shall be pleased she loses her labour. Sir, continued she, her ladyship proposes to be here time enough to hinder your nuptials, which she takes, as we did, will be the latter end of next week. Well, said he, let her come, but yet I desire not to see her. Mrs. Juke said to me, Give me leave, madam, to wish you all manner of happiness, but I am afraid I have too well obeyed his honour to be forgiven by you. Indeed, Mrs. Juke's, returned I, you will be more your own enemy than I will be. I will look all forward and shall not presume so much as by a whisper to set my good master against any one he pleases to approve of, and as to his old servants I shall always value them and never offer to dictate to his choice or influence it by my own caprices. Mrs. Juke's, said my master, you find you have no cause to apprehend anything. My Pamela is very placable, and as we have both been sinners together we must both be included in one act of grace. Such an example of condescension as I have before me, Mrs. Juke's, said I, may make you very easy, for I must be highly unworthy if I did not forego all my little resentments if I had any, for the sake of so much goodness to myself. You are very kind, madam, said she, and you may depend upon it. I will atone for all my faults by my future duty and respect to you, as well as to my master. That's well said on both sides, said he. But Mrs. Juke's to assure you that my good girl here has no malice she chooses you to attend her in the morning at the ceremony, and you must keep up her spirits. I shall, replied she, be very proud of the honour. But I cannot, madam, but wonder to see you so very low-spirited, as you have been these two or three days past with so much happiness before you. Why, Mrs. Juke's, answered I, there can be but one reason given, and that is, that I am a sad fool. But, indeed, I am not ungrateful neither, nor would I put on a foolish affectation, but my heart at time sinks within me. I know not why, except at my own unworthiness, and because the honour done me is too high for me to support myself under, as I should do. It is an honour, Mrs. Juke's, added I, I was not born to, and no wonder then I behave so awkwardly. She made me a fine compliment upon it, and withdrew, repeating her promises of care, secrecy, etc. He parted from me with very great tenderness, and I came up in such a writing, to amuse my thoughts, and wrote thus far. And Mrs. Juke's being come up, and it being past twelve, I will go to bed, but not one wink I fear shall I get this night. I could beat myself for anger. Sure there is nothing ominous in this strange folly, but I suppose all young maidens are the same, so near, so great a change of condition, that they carry it off more discreetly than I. Thursday, six o'clock in the morning. I might as well have not gone to bed last night, for what sleep I had. Mrs. Juke's often was talking to me, and said several things that would have been well enough from anybody else of our sex, but the poor woman has so little purity of heart that it is all safe from her, and goes no farther than the ear. I fancy my master has not slept much neither, for I heard him up in walking about his chamber ever since break of day. To be sure, good gentlemen, he must have some concern as well as I, for here he is going to marry a poor foolish unworthy girl brought up on the charity, as one may say, at least bounty, of his worthy family. And this foolish girl must be, to all intents and purposes, after twelve o'clock this day, as much as wife, as if he were to marry a duchess. And here he must stand the shocks of common reflection. The great Mr. B. has done finally, has married his poor servant, Winch, will some say. The ridicule and rudeness of his equals and companions too he must stand, and the disdain of his relations and indignation of Lady Davar's, his lofty sister. Dear good gentlemen, he will have enough to do to be sure. Oh, how shall I merit all these things at his hand? I can only do the best I can, and pray to God to reward him, and resolve to love him with a pure heart, and serve him with a sincere obedience. I hope the dear gentleman will continue to love me for this, for, alas, I have nothing else to offer. But, as I can hardly expect so great a blessing, if I can be secure from his contempt, I shall not be unfortunate, and must bear his indifference, if his rich friend should inspire him with it, and proceed with doing my duty with cheerfulness. Half an hour past eight o'clock. My good dear master, my kind friend, my generous benefactor, my worthy protector, and oh, all the good words in one, my affectionate husband, that is soon to be. Be curved in, my proud heart, know thyself, and be conscious of thy unworthiness. Has just left me, with the kindest, tenderest expressions, and gentlest behavior that ever blessed a happy maiden. He approached me with a sort of brained-in rapture. My Pamela, said he, may I just ask after your employment? Don't let me chide, my dear girl, this day, however. The two Parsons will be here to breakfast with us at nine, and yet you are not a bit dressed. Why this absence of mind and sweet irresolution? Why, indeed, sir, said I, I will set about a reformation this instant. He saw the common prayer-book lying in the window. I hope, said he, my lovely maiden has been coning the lessons she is by and by to repeat. Have you not, Pamela, and clasped his arms about me, and kissed me? Indeed, sir, said I, I have been reading over the solemn service. And what thinks my fairest, for so he called me, of it? Oh, sir, tis very awful, it makes one shudder to reflect upon it. No wonder, said he, it should affect my sweet Pamela. I have been looking into it this morning, and I can't say, but I think it a solemn, but very suitable service. But this I tell my dear love, continued he, and again clasped me to him. There is not a tittle in it that I can not joyfully subscribe to. And that, my dear Pamela, should make you easy and join cheerfully in it with me. I kissed his dear hand. Oh, my generous kind protector, said I, how gracious is it to confirm thus the doubting mind of your poor servant which apprehends nothing so much as her own unworthiness of the honour and blessing that await her. He was pleased to say, I know well, my dearest creature, that according to the liberties we people of fortune generally give ourselves, I have promised a great deal when I say so. But I would not have said it, if deliberately I could not with all my heart, so banish from your mind all doubt and uneasiness that a generous confidence in me take place, and let me see it does by your cheerfulness in this day's solemn business, and then I will love you for ever. May God Almighty, sir, said I, reward all your goodness to me. That is all I can say. But, oh, how kind it is in you to supply the want of the presence and comfortings of a dear mother, of a loving sister, or of the kind companions of my own sex, which most maidens have to sue their anxieties on the so near approach of so awful assomnity. You, sir, are all these tender relations in one to me. Your condescensions in kindness shall, if possible, embolden me to look up to you without that sweet tear that must confound poor bashful maidens on such an occasion when they are surrendered up to a more doubtful happiness, and to half-strange men whose good faith and good usage of them must be less experienced, and is all involved in the dark bosom of futurity, and only to be proved by the event. This, my dear Pamela, said he, is most kindly said. It shows me that you intergratefully into my intention, for I would, by my conduct, supply all these dear relations to you, and I voluntarily promise from my heart to you what I think I could not with such assured resolutions of performance to the highest born lady in the kingdom. For let me tell my sweet girl that after having been long-tossed by the boisterous winds of a more culpable passion, I have now conquered it and am not so much the victim of your beauty, all charming as you are, as of your virtue, and therefore may more boldly promise for myself, having so stable a foundation for my affection, which, should this outward beauty fail, will increase with your virtue and shine forth the brighter, as that is more illustrously displayed by the augmented opportunities which the condition you are now entering into will afford you. Oh, the dear charming man, how nobly, how encouragingly kind was all this. I could not suitably express myself, and he said, I see my girl is at a loss for words. I doubt not your kind acceptance of my declarations, and when I have acted too much the part of a libertine formerly, for you to look back without some anxiety, I ought not, being now happily convicted to say less. But why lose my girl her time? I will now only add that I hope for many happy years to make good by my conduct with so willingly flows from my lips. He kissed me again and said, but whatever you do, Pamela, be cheerful, for else, maybe, of the small company we shall have, someone not knowing how to account for your too nice modesty, will think there is some other person in the world whose addresses would be still more agreeable to you. This, he said, with an air of sweetness and pleasantry, but it alarmed me exceedingly, and made me resolve to appear as calm and cheerful as possible. For this was indeed a most affecting expression, and enough to make me, if anything can, behave as I ought, and to force my idle fears to give way to hope so much better grounded. And I began almost on this occasion to wish Mr. Williams were not to marry me, lest I should behave like a fool, and so be liable to an imputation which I should be most unworthy, if I deserved. So I set about dressing me instantly, and he sent Mrs. Jukes to assist me. But I am never long addressing when I set about it, and my master has now given me a hint, that will, for half an hour more at least, keep my spirits in a brisk circulation. Yet it concerns me a little too, lest he should have any the least shadow of a doubt that I am not mind and person entirely his. And so being now ready and not called to breakfast, I sat down and wrote thus far. I might have mentioned that I dressed myself in a rich white satin nightgown, that had been my good ladies, and my best head clothes, etc. I have got such a knack of writing, that when I am by myself I cannot sit without a pin in my hand. But I am now called to breakfast. I suppose the gentlemen are calm. Now, courage, Pamela, remember thou art upon thy good behavior, fire upon it. My heart begins to flutter again. Foolish heart, be still! Never sure was any maiden's perverse heart under so little command as mine. It gave itself away at first without my leave. It has been for weeks pressing me with its wishes, and yet now, when it should be happy itself, and make me so, it is throb, throb, throb, like a little fool, and filling me with such unseasonable misgivings as abate the rising comforts of all my better prospects. End of Section 24