Letter XXX

My dear Father and Mother,

I Write again, tho’, may-be, I shall bring it to you in my Pocket myself. For I shall have no Writing, nor Writing-time, I hope, when I come to you. This is Wednesday Morning, and I shall, I hope, set out to you To-morrow Morning; but I have had more Trials, and more Vexation; but of another Complexion too a little, tho’ all from the same Quarter.

Yesterday my Master, after he came from Hunting, sent for me. I went with great Terror; for I expected he would storm, and be in a fine Passion with me for my Freedom of Speech before: So I was resolv’d to begin first, with Submission, to disarm his Anger; and I fell upon my Knees as soon as I saw him; and I said, For God’s Sake, good Sir, and for the Sake of my dear good Lady your Mother, who recommended me to you with her last Words, let me beg you to forgive me all my Faults, as you hope to be forgiven yourself: And only grant me this Favour, the last I have to ask you, that you will let me depart your House with Peace and Quietness of Mind, that I may take such a Leave of my dear Fellow-servants as befits me; and that my Heart be not quite broken.

He took me up, in a kinder manner, than ever I had known from him; and he said, Shut the Door, Pamela, and come to me in my Closet: I want to have a little serious Talk with you. How can I, Sir, said I, how can I? and wrung my Hands! O pray, Sir, let me go out of your Presence, I beseech you. By the God that made me, said he, I’ll do you no Harm. Shut the Parlour Door, and come to me in my Library.

He then went into his Closet, which is his Library, and full of rich Pictures besides, a noble Apartment, tho’ called a Closet, and next the private Garden, into which it has a Door that opens. I shut the Parlour Door, as he bid me; but stood at it irresolute. Place some Confidence in me surely, said he, you may, when I have spoken thus solemnly. So I crept towards him with trembling Feet, and my Heart throbbing thro’ my Handkerchief. Come in, said he, when I bid you. I did so. Pray, Sir, said I, pity and spare me. I will, said he, as I hope to be sav’d. He sat down upon a rich Settee; and took hold of my Hand, and said, Don’t doubt me, Pamela. From this Moment, I will no more consider you as my Servant; and I desire you’ll not use me with Ingratitude for the Kindness I am going to express towards you. This a little embolden’d me; and he said, holding both my Hands in his, You have too much Wit and good Sense not to discover that I, in spite of my Heart, and all the Pride of it, cannot but love you. Yes, look up to me, my sweet-fac’d Girl! I must say I love you; and have put on a Behaviour to you, that was much against my Heart, in hopes to frighten you to my Purposes. You see I own it ingenuously; and don’t play your Sex upon me for it.

I was unable to speak, and he saw me too much oppress’d with Confusion to go on in that Strain; and he said, Well, Pamela, let me know in what Situation of Life is your Father; I know he is a poor Man; but is he as low and as honest as he was when my Mother took you?

Then I could speak a little; and with a down Look, (and I felt my Face glow like Fire) I said, Yes, Sir, as poor and as honest too; and that is my Pride. Says he, I will do something for him, if it be not your Fault, and make all your Family happy. Ah! Sir, said I, he is happier already than ever he can be, if his Daughter’s Innocence is to be the Price of your Favour. And I beg you will not speak to me on the only Side that can wound me. I have no Design of that sort, said he. O Sir, said I, tell me not so, tell me not so!—’Tis easy, said he, for me to be the Making of your Father, without injuring you. Well, Sir, said I, if this can be done, let me know how; and all I can do with Innocence shall be the Study and Practice of my Life—But Oh! what can such a poor Creature as I do, and do my Duty?—Said he, I would have you stay a Week or Fortnight only, and behave yourself with Kindness to me: I stoop to beg it of you, and you shall see all shall turn out beyond your Expectation. I see, said he, you are going to answer otherwise than I would have you; and I begin to be vex’d I should thus meanly sue; and so I will say, that your Behaviour before honest Longman, when I used you as I did, and you could so well have vindicated yourself, has quite charm’d me. And tho’ I am not pleased with all you said Yesterday while I was in the Closet, yet you have mov’d me more to admire you than before; and I am awaken’d to see more Worthiness in you than ever I saw in any Lady in the World. All the Servants, from the highest to the lowest, doat upon you, instead of envying you; and look upon you in so superior a Light, as speaks what you ought to be. I have seen more of your Letters than you imagine, (This surpriz’d me!) and am quite overcome with your charming manner of Writing, so free, so easy, and so much above your Sex; and all put together, makes me, as I tell you, love you to Extravagance. Now, Pamela, when I have stoop’d so low as to acknowledge all this, oblige me only to stay another Week or Fortnight, to give me Time to bring about some certain Affairs; and you shall see how much you shall find your Account in it.

I trembled to find my poor Heart giving way!—O good Sir, said I, pray your Honour, spare a poor Maiden, that cannot look up to you, and speak. My Heart is full! And why should you wish to undo me!—Only oblige me, said he, to stay a Fortnight longer, and John shall carry word to your Father, that I will see him in the Time, either here or at the Swan in his Village. O my Heart will burst, said I! but, on my bended Knees, I beg you, Sir, to let me go to-morrow, as I design’d! And don’t offer to tempt a poor Creature, whose whole Will would be to do yours, if my Virtue and my Duty would permit.—They will, they shall permit it, said he; for I intend no Injury to you, God is my Witness!—Impossible, said I; I cannot, Sir, believe you after what has pass’d! How many Ways are there to undo poor Creatures! Good God, protect me this one time, and send me but to my dear Father’s Cot in Safety!—Strange, damn’d Fate! says he, that when I speak so solemnly, I can’t be believ’d!—What should I believe, Sir? said I; what can I believe? What have you said, but that I am to stay a Fortnight longer? and what then is to become of me!—My Pride of Birth and Fortune, (damn them both! said he, since they cannot obtain Credit with you, but must add to your Suspicions) will not let me stoop at once; and I ask you but for a Fortnight’s Stay, that after this Declaration, I may pacify those proud Demands upon me.

O how my Heart throbbed! and I begun, for I did not know what I did, to say the Lord’s Prayer. None of your Beads to me, Pamela, said he, thou art a perfect Nun, I think.

But I said aloud, with my Eyes lifted up to Heaven, Lead me not into Temptation. But deliver me from Evil, O my good God!—He hugg’d me in his Arms, and said, Well, my dear Girl, then you stay this Fortnight, and you shall see what I will do for you.—I’ll leave you a Moment, and walk into the next Room, to give you Time to think of it, that you shall see I have no Design upon you. Well, this, I thought, did not look amiss.

He went out, and I was tortur’d with twenty different Thoughts in a Minute; sometimes I thought, that to stay a Week or Fortnight longer in this House to obey him, while Mrs. Jervis was with me, could do no great Harm: But then, thinks I, how do I know what I may be able to do? I have withstood his Anger; but may I not relent at his Kindness?—How shall I stand that!—Well, I hope, thought I, by the same protecting Grace in which I will always confide!—But then, what has he promised?—Why he will make my poor Father and Mother’s Life comfortable. O, said I to myself, that is a rich Thought; but let me not dwell upon it, for fear I should indulge it to my Ruin.—What can he do for me, poor Girl as I am!—What can his Greatness stoop to! He talks, thought I, of his Pride of Heart, and Pride of Condition; O these are in his Head, and in his Heart too, or he would not confess them to me at such an Instant. Well then, thought I, this can be only to seduce me!—He has promis’d nothing.—But I am to see what he will do, if I stay a Fortnight; and this Fortnight, thought I again, is no such great Matter; and I shall see, in a few Days, how he carries it.—But then, when I again reflected upon the Distance between us, and his now open Declaration of Love, as he called it, and that after this he would talk with me on that Subject more plainly than ever, and I should be less arm’d, may be, to withstand him; and then I bethought myself, why, if he meant no Dishonour, he should not speak before Mrs. Jervis; and the odious frightful Closet came again into my Head, and my narrow Escape upon it; and how easy it might be for him to send Mrs. Jervis and the Maids out of the way; and so that all the Mischief he design’d me might be brought about in less than that Time; I resolved to go away, and trust all to Providence, and nothing to myself. And O how ought I to bless God for this Resolution! as you shall hear.

But just as I have writ to this Place, John sends me word, that he is going this Minute your way; and so I will send so far as I have written, and hope, by to-morrow Night, to ask your Blessings, at your own poor, but happy Abode, and tell you the rest by word of Mouth; and so I rest, till then, and for ever,

Your dutiful Daughter.

Letter XXXI

My dear Father and Mother,

I Will continue my Writing still, because, may-be, I shall like to read it, when I am with you, to see what Dangers God has enabled me to escape; and tho’ I bring it in my Pocket.

I told you my Resolution, my happy Resolution, which, to be sure God inspired me with. And just then he came in again, with great Kindness in his Looks, and said, I make no doubt, Pamela, you will stay this Fortnight to oblige me. I knew not how to frame my Words so as to deny, and yet not make him storm. But, said I, Forgive, Sir, your poor distressed Maiden. I know I cannot possibly deserve any Favour at your Hands, consistent with my Honesty; and I beg you will let me go to my poor Father. Why, said he, thou art the veriest Fool that I ever knew. I tell you I will see your Father; I’ll send for him here to-morrow, in my Travelling Chariot, if you will; and I’ll let him know what I intend to do for him and you. What, Sir, may I ask you, can that be? Your Honour’s noble Estate may easily make him happy, and not unuseful perhaps to you in some respect or other. But what Price am I to pay for all this?—You shall be happy as you can wish, said he, I do assure you: And here I will now give you this Purse, in which are Fifty Guineas, which I will allow your Father yearly, and find an Employ suitable to his Liking, to deserve that and more: Pamela, he shall never want, depend upon it. I would have given you still more for him; but that perhaps you’d suspect I intended it as a Design upon you.—O Sir, said I, take back your Guineas, I will not touch one, nor will my Father, I am sure, till he knows what is to be done for them; and particularly what is to become of me. Why then, Pamela, said he, suppose I find a Man of Probity and genteel Calling for a Husband for you, that shall make you a Gentlewoman as long as you live?—I want no Husband, Sir, said I; for now I begun to see him in all his black Colours!—But being in his Power so, I thought I would a little dissemble. But, said he, you are so pretty, that go where you will, you will never be free from the Designs of some or other of our Sex; and I shall think I don’t answer the Care of my dying Mother for you, who committed you to me, if I don’t provide you a Husband, to protect your Virtue and your Innocence; and a worthy one I have thought of for you.

O black, perfidious Creature, thought I! what an Implement art thou in the Hands of Lucifer, to ruin the innocent Heart!—But still I dissembled; for I fear’d much both him and the Place I was in. But who, pray Sir, have you thought of?—Why, said he, young Mr. Williams, my Chaplain in Lincolnshire, who will make you happy. Does he know, Sir, said I, any thing of your Honour’s Intentions?—No, my Girl, said he, and kissed me (much against my Will; for his very Breath was now Poison to me!) but his Dependence on my Favour, and your Beauty and Merit, will make him rejoice at my Goodness to him.—Well, Sir, said I, then it is time enough to consider of this Matter; and this cannot hinder me from going to my Father’s: For what will staying a Fortnight longer signify to this? Your Honour’s Care and Goodness may extend to me there as well as here; and Mr. Williams, and all the World, shall know that I am not ashamed of my Father’s Poverty.

He would kiss me again, and I said, If I am to think of Mr. Williams, or any body else, I beg you’ll not be so free with me: That is not pretty I’m sure. Well, said he, but you stay this next Fortnight, and in that time I’ll have both Williams and your Father here; for I will have the Match concluded in my House; and when I have brought it on, you shall settle it as you please together. Mean time take and send only these Fifty Pieces to your Father, as an Earnest of my Favour, and I’ll make you all happy.—Sir, said I, I beg at least two Hours to consider of this. I shall, said he, be gone out in one Hour, and I would have you write to your Father, what I propose, and John shall carry it on purpose; and he shall carry the Purse with him for the good old Man, if you approve it. Sir, said I, I will let you know in one Hour then my Resolution. Do so, said he; and gave me another Kiss, and let me go.

O how I rejoiced I had got out of his Clutches!—So I write you this, that you may see how Matters stand; for I am resolv’d to come away, if possible. Base, wicked, treacherous Gentleman, as he is!

So here was a Trap laid for your poor Pamela! I tremble to think of it!—O what a Scene of Wickedness was here laid down for all my wretched Life. Black-hearted Wretch! How I hate him!—For at first, as you’ll see by what I have written, he would have made me believe other things; and this of Mr. Williams, I believe, came into his Head after he walked out from his Closet, as I suppose, to give himself time to think, as well as me, how to delude me better: But the Covering was now too thin, and easy to be seen through.

I went to my Chamber, and the first thing I did, was to write to him; for I thought it was best not to see him again, if I could help it; and I put it under his Parlour-door, after I had copy’d it, as follows:

So he has since sent Mrs. Jervis to tell me, that since I am resolv’d to go, go I may, and the Travelling Chariot shall be ready; but it shall be worse for me; for that he will never trouble himself about me as long as he lives. Well, so I get out of the House, I care not; only I should have been glad I could, with Innocence, have made you, my poor Parents, happy.

I cannot imagine the Reason of it, but John, who I thought was gone with my last, is but now going; and he sends to know if I have any thing else to carry. So I break off to send you this with the former.

I am now preparing for my Journey; and about taking Leave of my good Fellow-servants. And if I have not time to write, I must tell you the rest, when I am so happy as to be with you.

One Word more, I slip in a Paper of Verses, on my going; sad poor Stuff! but as they come from me, you’ll not dislike them, may-be. I shew’d them to Mrs. Jervis, and she liked them; and took a Copy; and made me sing them to her, and in the green Room too; but I looked into the Closet first. I will only add, that I am

Your dutiful Daughter.

XXXII

O my dearest Father and Mother,

Let me write and bewail my miserable hard Fate, tho’ I have no Hope that what I write will be convey’d to your Hands!—I have now nothing to do but write, and weep, and fear, and pray; and yet, What can I pray for, when God Almighty, for my Sins, to be sure, vouchsafes not to hear my Prayers; but suffers me to be a Prey to a wicked Violator of all the Laws of God and Man!—But, gracious Heaven, forgive me my Rashness! O let me not sin against thee; for thou best knowest what is fittest for thy poor Handmaid!—And as thou sufferest not thy poor Creatures to be tempted above what they can bear; I will resign, thro’ thy Grace assisting me, to thy good Pleasure. But since these Temptations are not of my own seeking, the Effects of my Presumption and Vanity, O enable me to withstand them all, and deliver me from the Dangers that hang over my poor Head, and make me perfect thro’ Sufferings, and, in thy own good Time, deliver me from them!

Thus do I pray, imperfectly as I am forced by my distracting Fears and Apprehensions; and O join with me, my dear Parents!—But, alas! how can you know, how can I reveal to you, the dreadful Situation of your poor Daughter! The unhappy Pamela may be undone, (which God forbid, and sooner deprive me of Life!) before you can know my hard Lot!

O the unparallel’d Wickedness, and Stratagems, and Devices of those who call themselves Gentlemen, and pervert the Design of Providence, in giving them ample Means to do good, to their own Perdition, and to the Ruin of poor oppressed Innocence!

But let me tell you what has befallen me; and yet, How shall you receive it? For I have now no honest John to carry my Letters to you; but am likely to be watch’d in all my Steps, till my hard Fate ripens his wicked Projects for my Ruin. I will every Day now write my sad State; and some way, perhaps, may be open’d to send the melancholy Scribble to you. But if you know it, what will it do but aggravate your Troubles: For, Oh! what can the abject Poor do against the mighty Rich, when they are determin’d to oppress?

Well, but I will proceed to write what I had hoped to tell you in a few Hours, that I believed I should be blessed by you on my Return to you, from so many Hardships.

I will begin here with my Account from the last Letter I wrote you, in which I inclosed my poor Stuff of Verses, and continue it at times, as I have Opportunity; tho’ as I said, I know not how it can reach you now.

The long hop’d-for Thursday Morning came, that I was to set out. I had taken my Leave of my Fellow-servants over-night; and a mournful Leave it was to us all: For Men, as well as Women-servants, wept much to part with me; and, for my Part, I was over-whelm’d with Tears, and the Instances of their Esteem. They all would have made me little Presents, as Tokens of their Love; but I would not take any thing from the lower Servants, to be sure. But Mr. Longman made me a present of several Yards of Holland, and a silver Snuff-box, and a gold Ring, which he desir’d me to keep for his sake; and he wept over me; but said, I am sure, so good a Maiden God will bless; and tho’ you return to your poor Father again, and his low Estate; yet Providence will find you out, and one Day, tho’ I mayn’t live to see it, you will be rewarded.

I said, O dear Mr. Longman, you make me too rich, and too mody; and yet I must be a Beggar before my Time: For I shall want often to be scribbling, (little thinking it would be my only Employment so soon) and I will beg you, Sir, to favour me with some Paper; and as soon as I get home, I will write you a Letter, to thank you for all your Kindness to me; and a Letter to good Mrs. Jervis too.

This was lucky; for I should have had none else, but at pleasure of my rough-natur’d Governess, as I may call her; but now I can write to ease my Mind, tho’ I can’t send it to you; and write what I please, for she knows not how well I am provided. For good Mr. Longman gave me above forty Sheets of Paper, and a dozen Pens, and a little Phial of Ink; which last I wrapt in Paper, and put in my Pocket; and some Wax and Wafers.

O dear Sir, said I, you have set me up. How shall I requite you? He said, By a Kiss, my fair Mistress; and I gave it very willingly; for he is a good old Man.

Rachel and Hannah cry’d sadly when I took my Leave, and Jane, who sometimes used to be a little crossish, and Cicely too, wept sadly, and said they would pray for me; but poor Jane, I doubt, seldom says her Prayers for herself: More’s the pity!

Then Arthur the Gardener, our Robin the Coachman, and Lincolnshire Robin too, who was to carry me, were very civil; and both had Tears in their Eyes; which I thought then very good-natur’d in Lincolnshire Robin, because he knew but little of me.—But since, I find he might well be concern’d, for he had then his Instructions, it seems, and knew how he was to be a Means to intrap me.

Then our other three Footmen, Harry, Isaac, and Benjamin, and Grooms, and Helpers too, were very much affected likewise; and the poor little Scullion-boy, Tommy, was ready to run over for Grief.

They had got all together over-night, expecting to be differently imploy’d in the Morning; and they all begg’d to shake Hands with me, and I kiss’d the Maidens; and pray’d to God to bless them all; and thanked them for all their Love and Kindnesses to me: And indeed I was forced to leave them sooner than I would, because I could not stand it: indeed I could not! Harry (I could not have thought it, for he is a little wildish, they say) cry’d till he sobb’d again. John, poor honest John, was not then come back from you. But as for the Butler, Mr. Jonathan, he could not stay in Company.

I thought to have told you a deal about this; but I have worse things to employ my Thoughts.

Mrs. Jervis, good Mrs. Jervis, cry’d all Night long; and I comforted her all I could: and she made me promise, that if my Master went to London to attend Parliament, or to Lincolnshire, I would come and stay a Week with her. And she would have given me Money; but I would not take it.

Well, next Morning came, and I wonder’d I saw nothing of poor honest John; for I waited to take Leave of him, and thank him for all his Civilities to me and to you: But I suppose he was sent further by my Master, and so could not return; and I desired to be remember’d to him.

And when Mrs. Jervis told me, with a sad Heart, the Chariot was ready, with four Horses to it, I was just upon sinking into the Ground, tho’ I wanted to be with you.

My Master was above Stairs, and never asked to see me. I was glad of it in the main; but he knew, false Heart as he is! that I was not to be out of his Reach!—O preserve me, Heaven, from his Power, and from his Wickedness!

Well, they were not suffer’d to go with me one Step, as I writ you before; for he stood at the Window to see me go. And in the Passage to the Gate, out of his Sight, there they stood all of them, in two Rows; and we could say nothing on both sides, but God bless you! and God bless you! But Harry carried my own Bundle, my third Bundle, as I was used to call it, to the Coach, and some Plum-cakes, and Diet-bread, made for me over-night, and some Sweet-meats, and six Bottles of Canary Wine, which Mrs. Jervis would make me take in a Basket, to chear our Hearts now-and-then when we got together, as she said. And I kiss’d all the Maids again, and shook Hands with the Men again; but Mr. Jonathan and Mr. Longman were not there; and tript down Steps to the Chariot, Mrs. Jervis crying most sadly.

I look’d up when I got to the Chariot, and I saw my Master at the Window, in his Gown; and I curchee’d three times to him very low, and pray’d for him with my Hands lifted up, for I could not speak; and he bow’d his Head to me, which made me then very glad he would take such Notice of me; and in I stept, and was ready to burst with Grief; and could only, till Robin begun to drive, wave my white Handkerchief to them, wet with my Tears: And at last away he drove, Jehu-like9 as they say, out of the Court-yard; and I too soon found I had Cause for greater and deeper Grief.

Well, says I to myself, at this rate I shall soon be with my dear Father and Mother; and till I had got, as I supposed, half way, I thought of the good Friends I had left. And when, on stopping for a little Bait to the Horses, Robin told me, I was near half-way, I thought it was high time to wipe my Eyes, and think to whom I was going; as then, alack for me! I thought. So I began to ponder what a Meeting I should have with you; how glad you’d both be to see me come safe and innocent to you, after all my Dangers; and so I began to comfort myself, and to banish the other gloomy Side from my Mind; tho’ too it return’d now-and-then; for I should be ingrateful not to love them for their Love.

Well, I believe, I sat out about Eight o’Clock in the Morning; and I wonder’d, and wonder’d, when it was about Two, as I saw by a Church-dyal in a little Place we pass’d thro’, that I was still more and more out of my Knowledge. Hey-day! thinks I, to drive this strange Pace, and to be so long a-going little more than twenty Miles, is very odd! But, to be sure, thought I, Robin knows the Way.

At last he stopt, and look’d about him, as if he was at a Loss for the Way; and I said, Mr. Robert, sure you are out of the Way!—I’m afraid I am, said he. But it can’t be much; I’ll ask the first Person I see. Pray do, said I; and he gave his Horses a Mouthful of Hay; and I gave him some Cake, and two Glasses of Canary Wine; and stopt about half an Hour in all. Then he drove on very fast again.

I had so much to think of, of the Dangers I now doubted not I had escaped, of the loving Friends I had left, and my best Friends I was going to, and the many things I had to relate to you, that I the less thought of the Way, till I was startled out of my Meditations by the Sun beginning to set, and still the Man driving on, and his Horses sweating and foaming; and then I begun to be alarm’d all at once, and called to him; and he said, he had horrid ill Luck; for he had come several Miles out of the Way, but was now right, and should get in still before it was quite dark. My Heart began then to misgive me a little; and I was very much fatigued; for I had no Sleep for several Nights before to signify; and at last, I said, Pray, Mr. Robert, there is a Town before us, What do you call it?—If we are so much out of the Way, we had better put up there; for the Night comes on apace; and, Lord protect me! thought I, I shall have new Dangers, may-hap, to encounter with the Man, who have escaped the Master?—Little thinking of the base Contrivance of the latter. Says he, I am just there; ’tis but a Mile on one side of the Town before us.—Nay, said I, I may be mistaken, for it is a good while since I was this way; but I am sure the Face of the Country here is nothing like what I remember it.

He pretended to be much out of Humour with himself for mistaking the Way, and at last stopt at a Farm-house, about two Miles beyond the Village I had seen, and it was then almost dark, and he alighted, and said, We must make shift here; for I am quite out.

Lord, thought I, be good to the poor Pamela! More Tryals still!—What will befal me next?

The Farmer’s Wife, and Maid, and Daughter, came out, and said, What brings you this way at this time of Night, Mr. Robert? And with a Lady too?—Then I began to be frighten’d out of my Wits; and laying Middle and both Ends together, I fell a-crying, and said, God give me Patience! I am undone for certain!—Pray, Mistress, said I, do you know Esquire B. of Bedfordshire?

The wicked Coachman would have prevented the answering me; but the simple Daughter said, Know his Worship! yes, surely! why he is my Father’s Landlord!—Well, said I, then I am undone, undone for ever!—O wicked Wretch! what have I done to you, said I to the Coachman, to serve me thus?—Vile Tool of a wicked Master! Faith, said the Fellow, I’m sorry this Task was put upon me; But I could not help it. But make the best of it now; Here are very civil, reputable Folks; and you’ll be safe here, I’ll assure you.—Let me get out, said I, and I’ll walk back to the Town we came thro’, late as it is!—For I will not enter here.

Said the Farmer’s Wife, You’ll be very well used here, I’ll assure you, young Gentlewoman, and have better Conveniencies than any where in the Village. I matter not Conveniencies, said I, I am betray’d and undone! As you have a Daughter of your own, pity me, and let me know, if your Landlord, as you call him, be here!—No, I’ll assure you, he is not, said she.

And then came the Farmer, a good-like sort of Man, grave, and well-behav’d; and he spoke to me in such sort, as made me a little more pacify’d; and seeing no Help for it, I went in; and the Wife immediately carry’d me up Stairs to the best Apartment, and told me that was mine as long as I staid; and nobody should come near me but when I called! I threw myself on the Bed in the Room, tir’d, and frighten’d to Death almost, and gave way to the most excessive Fit of Grief that I ever had!

The Daughter came up, and said, Mr. Robert had given her a Letter to give me; and there it was. I raised myself, and saw it was the Hand and Seal of the wicked Wretch my Master, directed To Mrs. Pamela Andrews.—This was a little better than to have him here; tho’ if he had, he must have been brought thro’ the Air; for I thought I was.

The good Woman (for I begun to see things about a little reputable, and no Guile appearing in them, but rather a Face of Grief for my Grief) offered me a Glass of some cordial Water, which I accepted, for I was ready to sink; and then I sat up in a Chair a little, tho’ very faintish: And they brought me two Candles, and lighted a Brushwood Fire; and said, if I call’d, I should be waited upon instantly, and so left me to ruminate on my sad Condition, and to read my Letter, which I was not able to do presently. After I had a little come to myself, I found it to contain these Words:

I but too well apprehended, that this Letter was only to pacify me for the present; but as my Danger was not so immediate as I had reason to dread, and he had promised to forbear coming to me, and to write to you, my dear Parents, to quiet your Concern, I was a little more easy than I was before: And I made shift to eat a little Bit of boil’d Chicken they had got for me, and drank a Glass of my Sack, and made them do so too.

But after I had so done, I was again a little fluster’d; for in came the Coachman with the Look of a Hangman, I thought, and Mad-am’d me up strangely; telling me, he would beg me to get ready to pursue my Journey by Five in the Morning, or else he should be late in. I was quite griev’d at this; for I began not to dislike my Company, considering how Things stood, and was in hopes to get a Party among them, and so to put myself into any worthy Protection in the Neighbourhood, rather than go forward.

When he withdrew, I began to tamper with the Farmer and his Wife. But, alas! they had had a Letter deliver’d them at the same time I had; so securely had Lucifer put it into his Head to do his Work; and they only shook their Heads, and seem’d to pity me; and so I was forced to give over that Hope.

However, the good Farmer shew’d me his Letter; which I copy’d as follows: For it shews the deep Arts of this wicked Master; and how resolv’d he seem’d on my Ruin, by the Pains he took to deprive me of all Hopes of freeing myself from his Power.

He had said, too cunningly for me, that I would not own this pretended Love Affair; so that he had provided them not to believe me, say what I would; and as they were his Tenants, who all love him, (for he has some good Qualities, and so he had need!) I saw all my Plot cut out; and so was forc’d to say the less.

I wept bitterly, however; for I saw he was too hard for me, as well in his Contrivances as Riches; and so had Recourse again to my only Refuge, that God who takes the innocent Heart into his Almighty Protection, and is alone able to baffle and confound the Devices of the Mighty. Nay, the Farmer was so prepossess’d with the Contents of his Letter to him, that he began to praise his Care and Concern for me, and to advise me against entertaining Addresses without my Friends Advice and Consent, and made me the Subject of a Lesson for his Daughter’s Improvement. So I was glad to shut up this Discourse; for I saw I was not likely to be believ’d.

I sent, however, to tell my Driver, that I was so fatigued, I could not set out so soon the next Morning. But he insisted upon it, and said it would make my Day’s Journey the lighter; and I found he was a more faithful Servant to his Master, notwithstanding what he wrote of his Reluctance, than I could have wish’d: So I saw still more and more, that all was deep Dissimulation, and Contrivance worse and worse.

Indeed I might have shewn them his Letter to me as a full Confutation of his to them; but I saw no Probability of engaging them in my Behalf; and so thought it signify’d little, as I was to go away so soon, to enter more particularly into the Matter with them; and besides, I saw they were not inclinable to let me stay longer for fear of disobliging him; so I went to Bed, but had very little Rest; and they would make their Servant-maid bear me Company in the Chariot five Miles, early in the Morning, and she was to walk back.

I had contriv’d in my Thoughts, when I was on my Way in the Chariot, on Friday Morning, that when we came into some Town, to bait, as he must do for the Horses sake, that I would at the Inn apply myself, if I saw I any way could, to the Mistress of the Inn, and tell her the Case, and refuse to go further, having nobody but this wicked Coachman to contend with.

Well, I was very full of this Project, and was in great Hopes, some how or other, to extricate myself this way. But Oh! the artful Wretch had provided for even this last Resource of mine; for when we came to put up at a large Town on the Way, to eat a Morsel for Dinner, and I was fully resolv’d to execute my Project, who should be at the Inn that he put up at, but the wicked Mrs. Jewkes expecting me, and her Sister-in-law was the Mistress of it; and she had provided a little Entertainment for me.

And this I found, when I desir’d, as soon as I came in, to speak with the Mistress of the House. She came to me, and I said, I am a poor unhappy young Body that wants your Advice and Assistance, and you seem to be a good sort of Gentlewoman, that would assist an oppressed innocent Person. Yes, Madam, said she, I hope you guess right, and I have the Happiness to know something of the Matter before you speak. Pray call my Sister Jewkes.—Jewkes! Jewkes! thought I, I have heard of that Name; I don’t like it.

Then the wicked Creature appear’d, whom I had never seen but once before, and I was terrify’d out of my Wits. No Stratagem, thought I, not one! for a poor innocent Girl; but every thing to turn out against me; that is hard indeed!

So I began to pull in my Horns, as they say; for I saw I was now worse off than at the Farmer’s.

The naughty Woman came up to me with an Air of Confidence, and kiss’d me, See, Sister, said she, here’s a charming Creature! would not she tempt the best Lord in the Land to run away with her! O frightful, thought I! here’s an Avowal of the Matter at once! I am now gone, that’s certain! And so was quite silent and confounded; and seeing no Help for it, (for she would not part with me out of her Sight) I was forc’d to set out with her in the Chariot; for she came thither on Horseback with a Man-servant, who rode by us the rest of the Way, with her Horse; and now I gave over all Thoughts of Redemption, and was in a desponding Condition indeed.

Well, thought I, here are strange Pains taken to ruin a poor innocent, helpless, and even worthless young Body. This Plot is laid too deep, and has been too long a hatching to be baffled, I fear. But then I put my Trust in God, who I knew was able to do every thing for me, when all other possible Means should fail: And in Him I was resolv’d to confide.

You may see!—Yet, oh! that kills me, for I know not whether ever you may see what I now write, or no!—Else you may see, what sort of Woman this Mrs. Jewkes is, compar’d to good Mrs. Jervis, by this—

Every now-and-then she would be staring in my Face, in the Chariot, and squeezing my Hand, and saying, Why, you are very pretty, my silent Dear! and once she offer’d to kiss me. But I said, I don’t like this Sort of Carriage, Mrs. Jewkes; it is not like two Persons of one Sex.

She fell a laughing very confidently, and said, That’s prettily said, I vow; then thou hadst rather be kiss’d by the other Sex? Ifackins, I commend thee for that! I was sadly teaz’d with her Impertinence, and bold Way; but no wonder, she was an Inn-keeper’s House-keeper before she came to my Master; and those Sort of Creatures don’t want Confidence, you know. And indeed she made nothing to talk confidently on twenty Occasions, and said two or three times, when she saw the Tears every now-and-then, as we rid, trickle down my Cheeks, I was sorely hurt, truly, to have the handsomest and finest young Gentleman in five Counties in Love with me!

So I find I am got into the Hands of a wicked Procuress, and if I was not safe with good Mrs. Jervis, and where every body lov’d me, what a dreadful Prospect have I now before me, in the Hands of a Woman that seems to delight in Filthiness!

O dear Sirs! what shall I do! What shall I do!—Surely, I shall never be equal to all these Things!

About Eight at Night, we enter’d the Court-yard of this handsome, large, old, and lonely Mansion, that looks made for Solitude and Mischief, as I thought, by its Appearance, with all its brown nodding Horrors of lofty Elms and Pines about it; And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the Scene of my Ruin, unless God protect me, who is all-sufficient!

I was very sick at entering it, partly from Fatigue, and partly from Dejection of Spirits: And Mrs. Jewkes got me some mull’d Wine, and seem’d mighty officious to welcome me thither. And while she was absent, ordering the Wine, the wicked Robin came in to me, and said, I beg a thousand Pardons for my Part in this Affair, since I see your Grief, and your Distress, and I do assure you, that I am sorry it fell to my Task.

Mighty well, Mr. Robert! said I; I never saw an Execution but once, and then the Hangman ask’d the poor Creature’s Pardon, and wip’d his Mouth, as you do, and pleaded his Duty, and then calmly tuck’d up the Criminal: But I am no Criminal, as you all know: And if I could have thought it my Duty to obey a wicked Master, in his unlawful Commands, I had sav’d you all the Merit of this vile Service.

I am sorry, said he, you take it so. But every body don’t think alike. Well, said I, you have done your Part, Mr. Robert, towards my Ruin, very faithfully; and will have Cause to be sorry, may-be, at the Long-run, when you shall see the Mischief that comes of it.—Your Eyes were open, and you knew I was to be carry’d to my Father’s, and that I was barbarously trick’d and betray’d, and I can only once more, thank you for your Part of it. God forgive you!

So he went away a little sad. What have you said to Robin, Madam, said Mrs. Jewkes, who came in as he went out? The poor Fellow’s ready to cry. I need not be afraid of your following his Example, Mrs. Jewkes, said I: I have been telling him, that he has done his Part to my Ruin: And he now can’t help it! So his Repentance does me no good; I wish it may him.

I’ll assure you, Madam, said she, I should be as ready to cry as he, if I should do you any Harm. It is not in his Power to help it now, said I; but your Part is to come, and you may chuse whether you’ll contribute to my Ruin or not.—Why, look ye, look ye, Madam, said she, I have a great Notion of doing my Duty to my Master; and therefore you may depend upon it, if I can do that, and serve you, I will: But you must think, if your Desire and his Will come to clash once, I shall do as he bids me, let it be what it will.

Pray, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, don’t Madam me so; I am but a silly poor Girl, set up by the Gambol of Fortune, for a May-game; and now am to be something, and now nothing, just as that thinks fit to sport with me: And let you and I talk upon a Foot together; for I am a Servant inferior to you, and so much the more as I am turn’d out of Place.

Ay, ay, says she, I understand something of the Matter; you have so great Power over my Master, that you may be soon Mistress of us all; and so I would oblige you, if I could. And I must and will call you Madam; for I am instructed to shew you all Respect, I’ll assure you.

Who instructed you to do so, said I? Who! my Master, to be sure, said she. Why, said I, how can that be, you have not seen him lately. No, that’s true, said she; but I have been expecting you here some time (O! the deep-laid Wickedness thought I!) and besides, I have a Letter of Instructions by Robin; but may-be, I should not have said so much. If you would shew them to me, said I, I should be able to judge how far I could, or could not, expect Favour from you, consistent with your Duty to our Master. I beg your Pardon, fair Mistress, for that, said she; I am sufficiently instructed, and you may depend upon it, I will observe my Orders; and so far as they will let me, so far will I oblige you; and there’s an End of it.

Well, said I, you will not, I hope, do an unlawful or wicked Thing, for any Master in the World! Look-ye, said she, he is my Master, and if he bids me do a Thing that I can do, I think I ought to do it, and let him, who has Power, to command me, look to the Lawfulness of it. Why, said I, suppose he should bid you cut my Throat, would you do it? There’s no Danger of that, said she; but to be sure I would not; for then I should be hang’d; for that would be Murder. Well, said I, and suppose he should resolve to insnare a poor young Creature, and ruin her, would you assist him in that? For to rob a Person of her Virtue, is worse than cutting her Throat.

Why now, says she, how strangely you talk! Are not the two Sexes made for one another? And is it not natural for a Gentleman to love a pretty Woman? And suppose he can obtain his Desires, is that so bad as cutting her Throat? And then the Wretch fell a laughing, and talk’d most impertinently, and shew’d me, that I had nothing to expect from her Virtue or Conscience. And this gave me great Mortification; for I was in hopes of working upon her by degrees.

So we ended our Discourse here, and I bid her shew me where I must lie?—Why, said she, lie where you list, Madam; but I can tell you, I must lie with you for the present. For the present, said I, and Torture then wrung my Heart!—But is it in your Instructions that you must lie with me? Yes, indeed, said she. I am sorry for it, said I. Why, said she, I am wholsome and cleanly too, I’ll assure you. Yes, said I, I don’t doubt that; but I love to lie by myself. Why, said she, Mrs. Jervis was your Bed-fellow at t’other House.

Well, said I, quite sick of her, and my Condition, you must do as you are instructed, I think. I can’t help myself; and am a most miserable Creature. She repeated her insufferable Nonsense, Mighty miserable indeed, to be so well belov’d by one of the finest Gentlemen in England!