Why don't I subscribe Sister? asks my dearest Lady Davers.--I have
not had the courage to do it of late. For my title to that honour
arises from the dear, thrice dear Mr. B. And how long I may be
permitted to call him mine, I cannot say. But since you command it, I
will call your ladyship by that beloved name, let the rest happen as
God shall see fit.
Mr. B. cannot be unpolite, in the main; but he is cold, and a little
cross, and short in his speeches to me. I try to hide my grief
from everybody, and most from him: for neither my parents, nor Miss
Darnford know anything from me. Mrs. Jervis, from whom I seldom hide
any thing, as she is on the spot with me, hears not my complainings,
nor my uneasiness; for I would not lessen the dear man. He may _yet_
see the error of the way he is in. God grant it, for his own sake as
well as mine.--I am even sorry your ladyship is afflicted with the
knowledge of the matter.
The unhappy lady (God forgive her!) is to be pitied: she loves him,
and having strong passions, and being unused to be controlled, is
lost to a sense of honour and justice.--From these wicked masquerades
springs all the unhappiness; my Spaniard was too amiable, and met with
a lady who was no Nun, but in habit. Every one was taken with him in
that habit, so suited to the natural dignity of his person!--O these
wicked masquerades!
I am all patience in appearance, all uneasiness in reality. I did not
think I could, especially in _this_ most _affecting_ point, be such an
hypocrite. Your ladyship knows not what it has cost me, to be able to
assume that character! Yet my eyes are swelled with crying, and look
red, although I am always breathing on my hand, and patting them
with it, and my warm breath, to hide the distress that will, from my
overcharged heart, appear in them.
Then he says, "What's the matter with the little fool! You are always
in this way of late! What ails you, Pamela?"
"Only a little vapourish, Sir!--Don't be angry at me!--Billy, I
thought, was not very well!"
"This boy will spoil your temper: at this rate, what should be your
joy, will become your misfortune. Don't receive me in this manner, I
charge you."
"In what manner. Sir? I always receive you with a grateful heart! If
any thing troubles me, it is in your absence: but see, Sir" (then
I try to smile, and seem pleased), "I am all sunshine, now you are
come!--don't you see I am?"
"Yes, your sunshine of late is all through a cloud! I know not what's
the matter with you. Your temper will alter, and then--"
"It shan't alter, Sir--it shan't--if I can help it." And then I kissed
his hand; that dear hand, that, perhaps, was last about his more
beloved Countess's neck--Distracting reflection!
But come, may-be I think the worst! To be sure I do! For my
apprehensions were ever aforehand with events; and bad must be the
case, if it be worse than I think it.
You command me to let you know _what_ I have heard, and how I
_came_ to hear it. I told your ladyship in one of my former that two
gentlemen brought up to the law, but above the practice of it, though
I doubt, not above practices less honourable, had visited us on coming
to town.
They have been often here since, Mr. Turner particularly: and
sometimes by himself, when Mr. B. has happened to be out: and he it
was, as I guessed, that gave me, at the wicked masquerade, the advice
to look after my _Musidorus_.
I did not like their visits, and _his_ much less: for he seemed to be
a man of intriguing spirit. But about three weeks ago, Mr. B. setting
out upon a party of pleasure to Oxford, he came and pretended great
business with me. I was at breakfast in the parlour, only Polly
attending me, and admitted him, to drink a dish of chocolate with me.
When Polly had stept out, he told me, after many apologies, that he
had discovered who the nun was at the masquerade, that had engaged Mr.
B.