MONDAY, TUESDAY, the 25th and 26th Days of my heavy Restraint.

Still more and more strange things to write. A Messenger is return’d, and now all is out! O wretched, wretched Pamela! What, at last, will become of me!—Such strange Turns and Trials sure never poor Creature of my Years, experienced. He brought two Letters, one to Mrs. Jewkes, and one to me: But as the greatest Wits may be sometimes mistaken, they being folded and sealed alike, that for me, was directed to Mrs. Jewkes; and that for her, was directed to me. But both are stark naught, abominably bad! She brought me up that directed for me, and said, Here’s a Letter for you: Long look’d-for is come at last. I will ask the Messenger a few Questions, and then I will read mine. So she went down, and I broke it open in my Closet, and found it directed, To Mrs. Pamela Andrews. But when I open’d it, it began, Mrs. Jewkes. I was quite confounded; but, thinks I, this may be a lucky Mistake; I may discover something. And so I read on these horrid Contents:

I had but just read this dreadful Letter thro’, when Mrs. Jewkes came up, in a great Fright, guessing at the Mistake, and that I had her Letter; and she found me with it open in my Hand, just sinking away. What Business, said she, had you to read my Letter? and snatch’d it from me. You see, said she, looking upon it, it says, Mrs. Jewkes, at top: You ought, in Manners, to have read no further. O add not, said I, to my Afflictions! I shall be soon out of all your ways! This is too much! too much! I never can support this!—and threw myself upon the Couch, in my Closet, and wept most bitterly. She read it in the next Room, and came in again afterwards; Why this, said she, is a sad Letter indeed! I am sorry for it: But I fear’d you would carry your Niceties too far!—Leave me, dear Mrs. Jewkes, said I, for a-while: I cannot speak nor talk!—Poor Heart! said she; well, I’ll come up again presently, and hope to find you better. But here, take your own Letter; I wish you well; but this is a sad Mistake! And so she laid down by me, that that was intended for me. But I had no Spirit to read it presently. O Man! Man! hard-hearted, cruel Man! what Mischiefs art thou not capable of, unrelenting Persecutor as thou art!

I sat ruminating, when I had a little come to myself, upon the Terms of this wicked Letter; and had no Inclination to look into my own. The bad Names, Fool’s Plaything, artful Creature, painted Bauble, Gewgaw, speaking Picture, are hard things for your poor Pamela; and I began to think, whether I was not indeed a very naughty Body, and had not done vile Things: But when I thought of his having discover’d poor John, and of Sir Simon’s base Officiousness, in telling him of poor Mr. Williams, with what he had resolved against him, in Revenge for his Goodness to me, I was quite mortified; and yet still more, about that fearful Colbrand, and what he could see done to me; for then I was ready to gasp for Breath, and my Spirits quite failed me. Then how dreadful are the Words, that he will decide my Fate in three Weeks! Gracious Heaven, said I, strike me dead before that time, with a Thunderbolt, or provide some way for my escaping these threaten’d Mischiefs! God forgive me if I sinned.

At last, I took up the Letter directed for Mrs. Jewkes, but designed for me; and I find that little better than the other. These are the hard Terms it contains:

Alas! for me, what a Fate is mine, to be thus thought artful and forward, and ingrateful! when all I intended, was to preserve my Innocence; and when all the poor little Shifts, which his superior wicked Wit and Cunning have render’d ineffectual, were forced upon me in my own necessary Defence!

Mrs. Jewkes came up to me again, and found me bathed in Tears. She seemed, as I thought, to be moved to some Compassion; and finding myself now intirely in her Power, and that it is not for me to provoke her, I said, It is now, I see, in vain for me to contend against my evil Destiny, and the superior Arts of my barbarous Master. I will resign myself to God’s Will, and prepare to expect the worst. But you see how this poor Mr. Williams is drawn in and undone; I am sorry I am made the Cause of his Ruin:—Poor, poor Man!—to be taken in thus, and for my sake too!—But, if you’ll believe me, said I, I gave no Encouragement to what he proposed, as to Marriage; nor would he have proposed it, I believe, but as the only honourable way he thought was left to save me: And his principal Motive to it all, was Virtue and Compassion to one in Distress. What other View could he have? You know I am poor and friendless. All I beg of you, is to let the poor Gentleman have Notice of my Master’s Resentment; and let him flee the Country, and not be thrown into Gaol: This will answer my Master’s End as well; for it will as effectually hinder him from assisting me, as if he was in a Prison.

Ask me, said she, to do any thing that is in my Power, consistent with my Duty and Trust, and I will do it; for I am sorry for you both. But, to be sure, I shall keep no Correspondence with him, nor let you. I offer’d to talk of a Duty superior to that she talked of, which would oblige her to help distressed Innocence, and not permit her to go the Lengths injoin’d by lawless Tyranny; but she plainly bid me be silent on that Head; for it was in vain to attempt to persuade her to betray her Trust.—All I have to advise you, said she, is to be easy; lay aside all your Contrivances and Arts to get away; and make me your Friend, by giving me no Reason to suspect you; for, said she, I glory in my Fidelity to my Master: And you have both practised some strange sly Arts, to make such a Progress as he has own’d there was between you, so seldom as, I thought, you saw one another; that I must be more circumspect than I have been.

This doubled my Concern; for I now apprehended I should be much closer watch’d than before.

Well, said I, since I have, by this strange Accident, discover’d my hard Destiny, let me read over again that fearful Letter of yours, that I may get it by heart, and feed my Distress upon it; for now I have nothing else to think of, and must familiarize myself to Calamity. Then, said she, let me read yours again. I gave her mine, and she lent me hers; and so I took a Copy of it, with her Leave; because, as I said, I would, by it, prepare myself for the worst. And when I had done, I pinn’d it on the Head of the Couch: This, said I, is the Use I shall make of this wretched Copy of your Letter; and here you shall always find it wet with my Tears.

She said, She would go down to order Supper, and insisted upon my Company to it: I would have excused myself; but she begun to put on a commanding Air, that I durst not oppose. And when I went down, she took me by the Hand, and presented me to the most hideous Monster I ever saw in my Life. Here, Monsieur Colbrand, said she, here is your pretty Ward and mine; let us try to make her Time with us easy. He bow’d, and put on his foreign Grimaces, and seem’d to bless himself! and, in broken English, told me, I was happy in de Affections of de vinest Gentleman in de Varld!—I was quite fright-en’d, and ready to drop down; and I will describe him to you, my dear Father and Mother, if now you will ever see this; and you shall judge if I had not Reason, especially not knowing he was to be there, and being appriz’d, as I was, of his hated Employment, to watch me closer.

He is a Giant of a Man, for Stature; taller by a good deal, than Harry Mamlidge, in your Neighbourhood, and large-bon’d, and scraggy; and a Hand!—I never saw such an one in my Life. He has great staring Eyes, like the Bull’s that frighten’d me so. Vast Jawbones sticking out; Eyebrows hanging over his Eyes; two great Scars upon his Forehead, and one on his left Cheek; and two huge Whiskers, and a monstrous wide Mouth; blubber Lips; long yellow Teeth, and a hideous Grin. He wears his own frightful long Hair, ty’d up in a great black Bag; a black Crape Neckcloth, about a long ugly Neck; and his Throat sticking out like a Wen. As to the rest, he was drest well enough, and had a Sword on, with a nasty red Knot to it; Leather Garters, buckled below his Knees; and a Foot—near as long as my Arm, I verily think.

He said, He fright de Lady, and offer’d to withdraw; but she bid him not; and I told Mrs. Jewkes, That as she knew I had been crying, she should not have called me to the Gentleman without letting me know he was there. I soon went up to my Closet; for my Heart aked all the time I was at Table; not being able to look upon him without Horror, and this Brute of a Woman, tho’ she saw my Distress, before this Addition to it, no doubt did it on purpose to strike me more into Terror. And indeed it had its Effect; for when I went to-bed, I could think of nothing but his hideous Person, and my Master’s more hideous Actions; and thought them too well pair’d; and when I dropt asleep, I dream’d they were both coming to my Bed-side, with the worst Designs; and I jump’d out of Bed in my Sleep, and frighted Mrs. Jemkes; till, waking with the Terror, I told her my Dream: And the wicked Creature only laughed, and said, All I fear’d was but a Dream, as well as that; and when it was over, and I was well awake, I should laugh at it as such!

And now I am come to the Close of Wednesday, the 27th Day of my Distress

Poor Mr. Williams is actually arrested, and carried away to Stamford. So there is an End of all my Hopes in him. Poor Gentleman! his Over-security and Openness, have ruin’d us both! I was but too well convinced, that we ought not to have lost a Moment’s time; but he was half angry, and thought me too impatient; and then his fatal Confessions, and the detestable Artifice of my Master!—But one might well think, that he who had so cunningly, and so wickedly, contrived all his Stratagems hitherto, that it was impossible to avoid them, would stick at nothing to complete them. I fear I shall soon find it so!

But one Stratagem I have just invented, tho’ a very discouraging one to think of; because I have neither Friends nor Money, nor know one Step of the Way, if I was out of the House. But let Bulls, and Bears, and Lions, and Tygers, and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful Men, stand in my Way, I cannot be in more Danger than I am; and I depend nothing upon his three Weeks: For how do I know, now he is in such a Passion, and has already begun his Vengeance on poor Mr. Williams, that he will not change his Mind, and come down to Lincolnshire before he goes to London?

My Stratagem is this; I will endeavour to get Mrs. Jewkes to-bed without me, as she often does, while I sit lock’d up in my Closet; and as she sleeps very sound in her first Sleep, of which she never fails to give Notice by snoring, if I can then but get out between the two Bars of the Window, (for you know, I am very slender, and I find I can get my Head thro’) then I can drop upon the Leads underneath, which are little more than my Height, and which Leads are over a little Summer-parlour, that juts out towards the Garden, and which, as I am light, I can easily drop from; for they are not high from the Ground: Then I shall get into the Garden; and then, as I have the Key of the Back-door, I will get out. But I have another Piece of Cunning still; good Heaven, succeed to me my dangerous, but innocent Devices!—I have read of a great Captain, who being in Danger, leaped over-board, into the Sea; and his Enemies shooting at him with Bows and Arrows, he got off his upper Garment, and swam away, while they stuck that full of their Darts and Arrows; and he escaped, and triumphed over them all. So what will I do, but strip off my upper Petticoat, and throw it into the Pond, with my Neck-handkerchief; for, to be sure, when they miss me, they will go to the Pond first, thinking I have drowned myself; and so, when they see some of my Cloaths floating there, they will be all employ’d in dragging the Pond, which is a very large one; and as I shall not, perhaps, be miss’d till the Morning, this will give me Opportunity to get a great way off; and I am sure I will run for it when I am out. And so, I trust, that God will direct my Steps to some good Place of Safety, and make some worthy Body my Friend; for sure, if I suffer ever so, I cannot be in more Danger, nor in worse Hands, than where I am; and with such avow’d bad Designs.

O my dear Parents! don’t be frighted when you come to read this!—But all will be over before you can see it; and so God direct me for the best. My Writings, for fear I should not escape, I will bury in the Garden; for, to be sure, I shall be search’d, and used dreadfully, if I can’t get off. And so I will close here, for the present, to prepare for my Plot. Prosper thou, O gracious Protector of oppressed Inno-cence! this last Effort of thy poor Handmaid! that I may escape the crafty Devices and Snares that have already begun to entangle my Virtue! and from which, but by this one Trial, I see no way of escaping! And Oh! whatever becomes of me, bless my dear Parents, and protect poor Mr. Williams from Ruin! for he was happy before he knew me!

Just now, just now! I heard Mrs. Jewkes, who is in her Cups, own, to the horrid Colbrand, that the robbing of poor Mr. Williams, was a Contrivance of hers, and executed by the Groom and a Helper, in order to seize my Letters upon him, which they miss’d. They are now both laughing at the dismal Story, which they little think I heard—O how my Heart akes! for what are not such Wretches capable of! Can you blame me for endeavouring, thro’ any Danger, to get out of such Clutches?

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, the 28th, 29th, 30th, and 31st Days of my Distress.

And Distress indeed! For here I am still! And every thing has been worse and worse! Oh! the poor unhappy Pamela!—Without any Resource left, and ruin’d in all my Contrivances. But, Oh! my dear Parents, rejoice with me, even in this low Plunge of my Distress; for your poor Pamela has escap’d from an Enemy worse than any she ever met with; an Enemy she never thought of before; and was hardly able to stand against. I mean, the Weakness and Presumption, both in one, of her own Mind! which had well nigh, had not divine Grace interposed, sunk her into the lowest last Abyss of Misery and Perdition! I will proceed, as I have Opportunity, with my sad Relation: For my Pen and Ink (in my now doubly secur’d Closet) is all that I have, besides my own Weakness of Body, to employ myself with: And, till yesterday Evening, I have not been able to hold a Pen.

I took with me but one Shift, besides what I had on, and two Handkerchiefs, and two Caps, which my Pocket held, (for it was not for me to incumber myself) and all my Stock of Money, which was but five or six Shillings, to set out for I knew not where; and got out of the Window, not without some Difficulty, sticking a little at my Shoulders and Hips; but I was resolv’d to get out, if possible. And it was further from the Leads than I thought, and I was afraid I had sprain’d my Ancle; and when I had dropt from the Leads to the Ground, it was still further off; but I did pretty well there; at least, I got no Hurt to hinder me from pursuing my Intentions: So being now on the Ground, I hid my Papers under a Rose-bush, and cover’d them over with Mould, and there they still lie, as I hope. Then I hy’d away to the Pond: The Clock struck Twelve, just as I got out; and it was a dark misty Night, and coldish; but I felt none then.

When I came to the Pond-side, I flung in my Upper-coat, as I had design’d, and my Neck-handkerchief, and a round-ear’d Cap, with a Knot; and then with great Speed ran to the Door, and took the Key out of my Pocket, my poor Heart beating all the Time against my Bosom, as if it would have forc’d its way out: And beat it well might! For I then, too late, found, that I was most miserably disappointed; for the wicked Woman had taken off that Lock, and put another on; so that my Key would not open it. I try’d and try’d, and feeling about, I found a Padlock besides, on another Part of the Door. O then how my Heart sunk!—I dropt down with Grief and Confusion, unable to stir or support myself for a while. But my Fears awakening my Resolution, and knowing that my Attempt would be as terrible for me, as any other Danger I could then encounter, I clamber’d up upon the Ledges of the Door, and the Lock, which was a great wooden one, reaching the Top of the Door with my Hands; and little thinking I could climb so well, made shift to lay hold on the Top of the Wall with my Hands; but, alas for me! nothing but ill Luck!—no Escape for poor Pamela! The Wall being old, the Bricks I held by, gave way, just as I was taking a Spring to get up, and down came I, and received such a Blow upon my Head, with one of the Bricks, that it quite stunn’d me; and I broke my Shins and my Ancle besides, and beat off the Heel of one of my Shoes.

In this dreadful way, flat upon the Ground, lay poor I, for I believe five or six Minutes; and when I would have got up, I could hardly stand; for I found I had bruis’d my left Hip and Shoulder, and was full of Pain with it; and besides my Head bled, and ak’d with the Blow I had with the Brick.—Yet this I valued not! but crawl’d a good way, upon my Feet and Hands, in Search of a Ladder, I just recollected to have seen against the Wall two Days before, on which the Gardener was nailing a Nectarine Branch, that was blown off from the Wall: But no Ladder could I find, and the Wall was very high. What now, thinks I, must become of the poor miserable Pamela!—Then I began to wish myself most heartily again in my Closet, and to repent of my Attempt, which I now censur’d as rash, because it did not succeed.

God forgive me! but a sad Thought came just then into my Head!—I tremble to think of it! Indeed my Apprehensions of the Usage I should meet with, had like to have made me miserable for ever! O my dear, dear Parents, forgive your poor Child; but being then quite desperate, I crept along till I could get up on my Feet, tho’ I could hardly stand; and away limp’d I!—What to do, but to throw myself into the Pond, and so put a Period to all my Griefs in this World!—But, Oh! to find them infinitely aggravated (had I not, by God’s Grace, been with-held) in a miserable Eternity! As I have escap’d this Temptation, (blessed be God for it!) I will tell you my Conflicts on this dreadful Occasion, that God’s Mercies may be magnify’d in my Deliverance, that I am yet on this Side the dreadful Gulph, from which there can be no Redemption.

It was well for me, as I have since thought, that I was so maim’d, as made me the longer before I got to the Water; for this gave me some Reflection, and abated that Liveliness of my Passions, which possibly might otherwise have hurry’d me, in my first Transport of Grief, (on my seeing no way to escape, and the hard Usage I had Reason to expect from my dreadful Keepers) to throw myself in without Consideration; but my Weakness of Body made me move so slowly, that it gave Time for a little Reflection, a Ray of Grace, to dart in upon my benighted Mind; and so, when I came to the Pond-side, I sat myself down on the sloping Bank, and began to ponder my wretched Condition: And thus I reason’d with myself.

Pause here a little, Pamela, on what thou art about, before thou takest the dreadful Leap; and consider whether there be no Way yet left, no Hope, if not to escape from this wicked House, yet from the Mischiefs threatened thee in it.

I then consider’d, and after I had cast about in my Mind, every thing that could make me hope, and saw no Probability; a wicked Woman devoid of all Compassion! a horrid Helper just arriv’d in this dreadful Colbrand! an angry and resenting Master, who now hated me, and threaten’d the most afflicting Evils! and, that I should, in all Probability, be depriv’d even of the Opportunity I now had before me, to free myself from all their Persecutions—What hast thou to do, distressed Creature, said I to myself, but throw thyself upon a merciful God, (who knows how innocently I suffer) to avoid the merciless Wickedness of those who are determin’d on my Ruin?

And then thought I, (and Oh! that Thought was surely of the Devil’s Instigation; for it was very soothing and powerful with me) these wicked Wretches, who now have no Remorse, no Pity on me, will then be mov’d to lament their Misdoings; and when they see the dead Corpse of the unhappy Pamela dragg’d out to these slopy Banks, and lying breathless at their Feet, they will find that Remorse to wring their obdurate Hearts, which now has no Place there!—And my Master, my angry Master, will then forget his Resentments, and say, O this is the unhappy Pamela! that I have so causelesly persecuted and destroy’d! Now do I see she preferr’d her Honesty to her Life, will he say, and is no Hypocrite, nor Deceiver; but really was the innocent Creature she pretended to be! Then, thinks I, will he, perhaps, shed a few Tears over the poor Corse of his persecuted Servant; and, tho’ he may give out, it was Love and Disappointment, and that too, (in order to hide his own Guilt) for the unfortunate Mr. Williams, perhaps, yet will he be inwardly griev’d, and order me a decent Funeral, and save me, or rather this Part of me, from the dreadful Stake, and the Highway Interrment17 and the young Men and Maidens all around my dear Father’s, will pity poor Pamela; but O! I hope I shall not be the Subject of their Ballads and Elegies; but that my Memory, for the sake of my dear Father and Mother, may quickly slide into Oblivion!

I was once rising, so indulgent was I to this sad way of thinking, to throw myself in: But again, my Bruises made me slow; and I thought, What art thou about to do, wretched Pamela? how knowest thou, tho’ the Prospect be all dark to thy short-sighted Eye, what God may do for thee, even when all human Means fail? God Almighty would not lay me under these sore Afflictions, if he had not given me Strength to grapple with them, if I will exert it as I ought: And who knows, but that the very Presence I so much dread, of my angry and designing Master, (for he has had me in his Power before, and yet I have escap’d) may be better for me, than these persecuting Emissaries of his, who, for his Money, are true to their wicked Trust, and are harden’d by that, and a long Habit of Wickedness, against Compunction of Heart? God can touch his Heart in an Instant; and if this should not be done, I can then but put an End to my Life, by some other Means, if I am so resolved.

But how do I know, thought I, that even these Bruises and Maims that I have gotten, while I pursu’d only the laudable Escape I had meditated, may not kindly furnish me with the Opportunity I now am tempted to precipitate myself upon, and of surrendering up my Life, spotless and unguilty, to that merciful Being who gave it!

Then, thought I, who gave thee, presumptuous as thou art, a Power over thy Life? Who authoriz’d thee to put an End to it, when the Weakness of thy Mind suggests not to thee a Way to preserve it with Honour? How knowest thou what Purposes God may have to serve, by the Trials with which thou art now tempted? Art thou to put a Bound to God’s Will, and to say, Thus much will I bear, and no more? And, wilt thou dare to say, that if the Trial be augmented, and continued, thou wilt sooner die than bear it?

This Act of Despondency, thought I, is a Sin, that, if I pursue it, admits of no Repentance, and can therefore claim no Forgiveness.—And wilt thou, for shortening thy transitory Griefs, heavy as they are, and weak as thou fanciest thyself, plunge both Body and Soul into everlasting Misery? Hitherto, Pamela, thought I, thou art the innocent, the suffering Pamela; and wilt thou be the guilty Aggressor? and, because wicked Men persecute thee, wilt thou fly in the Face of the Almighty, and bid Defiance to his Grace and Goodness, who can still turn all these Sufferings to thy Benefits? And how do I know, but that God, who sees all the lurking Vileness of my Heart, may not have permitted these Sufferings on that very Score, and to make me rely solely on his Grace and Assistance, who perhaps have too much prided myself in a vain Dependence on my own foolish Contrivances? Then again, thought I, wilt thou suffer in one Moment all the good Lessons of thy poor honest Parents, and the Benefit of their Example, (who have persisted in doing their Duty with Resignation to the Divine Will, amidst the extremest Degrees of Disappointment, Poverty and Distress, and the Persecutions of an ingrateful World, and merciless Creditors) to be thrown away upon thee; and bring down, as in all Probability this thy Rashness will, their grey Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave, when they shall understand that their beloved Daughter, slighting the Tenders of Divine Grace, desponding in the Mercies of a gracious God, has blemish’d, in this last Act, a whole Life, which they had hitherto approv’d and delighted in?

What then, presumptuous Pamela, dost thou here, thought I? Quit with Speed these guilty Banks, and flee from these dashing Waters, that even in their sounding Murmurs, this still Night, reproach thy Rashness! Tempt not God’s Goodness on the mossy Banks, that have been Witnesses of thy guilty Intentions; and while thou hast Power left thee, avoid the tempting Evil, lest thy grand Enemy, now repuls’d by Divine Grace, and due Reflection, return to the Charge with a Force that thy Weakness may not be able to resist! And lest one rash Moment destroy all the Convictions, which now have aw’d thy rebellious Mind into Duty and Resignation to the Divine Will!

And so saying, I arose; but was so stiff with my Hurts, so cold with the moist Dew of the Night, and the wet Banks on which I had sat, as also the Damps arising from so large a Piece of Water, that with great Pain I got from the Banks of this Pond, which now I think of with Terror; and bending my limping Steps towards the House, refug’d myself in the Corner of an Out-house, where Wood and Coals are laid up for Family Use, till I should be found by my cruel Keepers, and consign’d to a wretched Confinement, and worse Usage than I had hitherto experienc’d; and there behind a Pile of Fire-wood I crept, and lay down, as you may imagine, with a Mind just broken, and a Heart sensible to nothing but the extremest Woe and Dejection.

This, my dear Father and Mother, is the Issue of your poor Pamela’s fruitless Enterprize; and God knows, if I had got out at the Back-door, whether I had been at all in better Case, moneyless, friendless, as I am, and in a strange Place!—But blame not your poor Daughter too much: Nay, if ever you see this miserable Scribble, all bathed and blotted with my Tears, let your Pity get the better of your Blame! But I know it will.—And I must leave off for the present—For, Oh! my Strength and my Will are at present very far unequal to one another.—But yet, I will add, that tho’ I should have prais’d God for my Deliverance, had I been freed from my wicked Keepers, and my designing Master; yet I have more abundant Reason to praise God, that I have been deliver’d from a worse Enemy, myself!

I will continue my sad Relation.

It seems Mrs. Jewkes awaked not till Day-break, and not finding me in Bed, she call’d me; and no Answer being return’d, she relates, that she got out of Bed, and run to my Closet; and not finding me, searched under the Bed, and in another Closet, finding the Chamber-door as she had left it, quite fast, and the Key, as usual, about her Wrist. For if I could have got out at the Chamber-door, there were two or three Passages, and Doors to them all, double lock’d and barr’d, to go thro’, into the great Garden; so that if I would escape, there was no Way but that of the Window; and that very Window, because of the Summer-parlour under it; for the other Windows were a great way from the Ground.

She says, she was excessively frighted, and instantly rais’d the Swiss, and the two Maids, who lay not far off; and finding every Door fast, she said, I must be carry’d away, as St. Peter was out of Prison, by some Angel18. It is a Wonder she had not a worse Thought!

She says, she wept and wrung her Hands, and took on sadly, running about like a mad Woman, little thinking I could have got out of the Closet Window, between the Iron Bars; and indeed I don’t know if I could do so again. But at last finding that Casement open, they concluded it must be so; and so they ran out into the Garden, and found, it seems, my Footsteps in the Mould of the Bed which I dropt down upon from the Leads: And so speeded away, all of them, that is to say, Mrs. Jewkes, Colbrand and Nan, towards the Backdoor, to see if that was fast, while the Cook was sent to the Out-offices to raise the Men, and make them get Horses ready, to take each a several way to pursue me.

But it seems, that finding that Door double-lock’d and padlock’d, and the Heel of my Shoe, and the broken Bricks, they verily concluded I was got away by some Means, over the Wall; and then, they say, Mrs. Jemkes seem’d like a distracted Woman: Till at last, Nan had the Thought to go towards the Pond, and there seeing my Coat, and Cap and Handkerchief in the Water, cast almost to the Banks by the dashing of the Waves, she thought it was me, and screaming out, run to Mrs. Jewkes, and said, O Madam, Madam! here’s a piteous Thing!—Mrs. Pamela lies drown’d in the Pond!—Thither they all ran! and finding my Cloaths, doubted not I was at the Bottom; and they all, Swiss among the rest, beat their Breasts, and made most dismal Lamentations; and Mrs. Jewkes sent Nan to the Men, to bid them get the Drag-net ready, and leave the Horses, and come to try to find the poor Innocent! as she, it seems, then call’d me, beating her Breast, and lamenting my hard Hap; but most what would become of them, and what Account they should give to my Master.

While every one was thus differently employ’d, some weeping and wailing, some running here and there, Nan came into the Wood-house; and there lay poor I; so weak, so low, and dejected, and withal so stiff with my Bruises, that I could not stir nor help myself to get upon my Feet. And I said, with a low Voice, (for I could hardly speak) Mrs. Ann, Mrs. Ann!—The Creature was sadly frighted, but was taking up a Billet to knock me on the Head, believing I was some Thief, as she said; but I cry’d out, O Mrs. Ann, Mrs. Ann, help me, for Pity’s sake, to Mrs. Jewkes! for I cannot get up!—Bless me, said she, what! you, Madam!—Why our Hearts are almost broke, and we were going to drag the Pond for you, believing you had drown’d yourself. Now, said she, you’ll make us all alive again!

And, without helping me, she run away to the Pond, and brought all the Crew to the Wood-house.—The wicked Woman, as she entered, said, Where is she?—Plague of her Spells, and her Witchcrafts! She shall dearly repent of this Trick, if my Name be Jewkes; and coming to me, took hold of my Arm so roughly, and gave me such a Pull, as made me squeal out, (my Shoulder being bruis’d on that Side) and drew me on my Face. O cruel Creature! said I, if you knew what I had suffer’d, it would move you to pity me!

Even Colbrand seem’d to be concern’d, and said, Fie, Madam, fie! you see she is almost dead! You must not be so rough with her. The Coachman Robin seem’d to be sorry for me too, and said, with Sobs, What a Scene is here! Don’t you see she is all bloody in her Head, and cannot stir?—Curse of her Contrivances! said the horrid Creature; she has frighted me out of my Wits, I’m sure. How the D—1 came you here?—O! said I, ask me now no Questions, but let the Maids carry me up to my Prison; and there let me die decently, and in Peace! For indeed I thought I could not live two Hours.

The still more inhuman Tygress said, I suppose you want Mr. Williams to pray by you, don’t you? Well, I’ll send for my Master this Minute; let him come and watch you himself, for me; for there’s no such thing as holding you, I’m sure!

So the Maids took me up between them, and carry’d me to my Chamber; and when the Wretch saw how bad I was, she began a little to relent—while every one wonder’d (at what I had neither Strength nor Inclination to tell them) how all this came to pass; which they imputed to Sorcery and Witchcraft.

I was so weak, when I had got up Stairs, that I fainted away, with Dejection, Pain and Fatigue; and they undress’d me, and got me to Bed, and Mrs. Jewkes order’d Nan to bathe my Shoulder, and Arm, and Ancle, with some old Rum warm’d; and they cut the Hair a little from the back Part of my Head, and wash’d that; for it was clotted with Blood, from a pretty long, but not deep Gash; and put a Family Plaister upon it; for if this Woman has any good Quality, it is, it seems, in a Readiness and Skill to manage in Cases, where sudden Misfortunes happen in a Family.

After this, I fell into a pretty sound and refreshing Sleep, and lay till Twelve O’ Clock, tolerably easy, considering I was very feverish and aguishly inclin’d; and she took a good deal of Care to fit me to undergo more Trials, which I had hop’d would have been more happily ended: But Providence did not see fit.

She would make me rise about Twelve; but I was so weak, I could only sit up till the Bed was made, and went into it again; and was, as they said, delirious some Part of the Afternoon. But having a tolerable Night on Thursday, I was a good deal better on Friday, and on Saturday got up, and eat a little Spoon-meat, and my Feverishness seem’d to be gone, and I was so pick’d up by Evening, that I begg’d her Indulgence in my Closet, to be left to myself; which she consented to, it being double-barr’d the Day before, and I assuring her that all my Contrivances, as she call’d them, were at an End. But first she made me tell her the whole Story of my Enterprize; which I did, very faithfully, knowing now that nothing could stand me in any stead, or contribute to my Safety and Escape: And she seem’d full of Wonder at my Resolution and Venturesomeness; but told me frankly, that I should have found a hard Matter to get quite off; for, that she was provided with a Warrant from my Master, (who is a Justice of Peace in this County, as well as the other) to get me apprehended, if I had got away, on Suspicion of wronging him, let me have been where I would.

O how deep-laid are the Mischiefs designed to fall on my devoted Head!—Surely, surely, I cannot be worthy all this Contrivance!—This too well shews me the Truth of what was hinted to me formerly at the other House, that my Master swore he would have me! O preserve me, Heaven! from being his, in his own wicked Sense of the Adjuration!

I must add, that now this Woman sees me pick up so fast, she uses me worse, and has abridg’d me of Paper all but one Sheet, which I am to shew her written or unwritten on Demand, and has reduc’d me to one Pen; yet my hidden Stores stand me in stead. But she is more and more snappish and cross; and tauntingly calls me Mrs. Williams, and any thing that she thinks will vex me.

Sunday Afternoon.

Mrs. Jewkes has thought fit to give me an Airing, for three or four Hours this Afternoon, and I am much better; and should be much more so, if I knew for what I am reserv’d. But Health is a Blessing hardly to be coveted in my Circumstances, since that fits me for the Calamity I am in continual Apprehensions of; whereas a weak and sickly State might possibly move Compassion for me. O how I dread the coming of this angry and incensed Master; tho’ I am sure I have done him no Harm!

Just now we heard, that he had like to have been drown’d in crossing a Stream, a few Days ago, in pursuing his Game. What is the Matter, with all his ill Usage of me, that I cannot hate him? To be sure, I am not like other People! I am sure he has done enough to make me hate him; but yet when I heard his Danger, which was very great, I could not in my Heart forbear rejoicing for his Safety; tho’ his Death would have ended my Afflictions. Ungenerous Master! if you knew this, you surely would not be so much my Persecutor! But for my late good Lady’s sake, I must wish him well; and O what an Angel would he be in my Eyes yet, if he would cease his Attempts, and reform.

Well, I hear by Mrs. Jewkes, that John Arnold is turn’d away, being detected in writing to Mr. Williams; and that Mr. Longman, and Mr. Jonathan the Butler, have incurr’d his Displeasure, for offering to speak in my Behalf. Mrs. Jervis too is in Danger; for all these three, belike, went together to beg in my Favour; for now it is known where I am.

Mrs. Jewkes has, with the News about my Master, receiv’d a Letter; but she says the Contents are too bad for me to know. They must be bad indeed, if they be worse than what I have already known.

Just now the horrid Creature tells me, as a Secret, that she has reason to think he has found out a Way to satisfy my Scruples: It is, by marrying me to this dreadful Colbrand, and buying me of him on the Wedding-day, for a Sum of Money!—Was ever the like heard?—She says that it will be my Duty to obey my Husband; and that Mr. Williams will be forc’d, as a Punishment, to marry us; and that when my Master has paid for me, and I am surrender’d up, the Swiss is to go home again, with the Money, to his former Wife and Children, for she says, it is the Custom of those People to have a Wife in every Nation.

But this, to be sure, is horrid romancing! but abominable as it is, it may possibly serve to introduce some Plot now hatching!—With what strange Perplexities is my poor Mind agitated! Perchance, some Sham-marriage may be design’d, on purpose to ruin me: But can a Husband sell his Wife, against her own Consent?—And will such a Bargain stand good in Law?