very pleasantly with the ladies; and she said, Sir, here is a good
tight old man, that wants to see you on business of life and death, he
says, and is very earnest. Ay, said he, Who can that be?—Let him stay
in the little hall, and I’ll come to him presently. They all seemed to
stare; and Sir Simon said, No more nor less, I dare say, my good
friend, but a bastard-child. If it is, said Lady Jones, bring it in to
us. I will, said he.
Mrs. Jewkes tells me, my master was much surprised, when he saw who it
was; and she much more, when my dear father said,—Good God! give me
patience! but, as great as you are, sir, I must ask for my child! and
burst out into tears. (O what trouble have I given you both!) My master
said, taking him by the hand, Don’t be uneasy, Goodman Andrews; your
daughter is in the way to be happy.
This alarmed my dear father, and he said, What! then, is she dying? And
trembled, he could scarce stand. My master made him sit down, and sat
down by him, and said, No; God be praised! she is very well: And pray
be comforted; I cannot bear to see you thus apprehensive; but she has
written you a letter to assure you, that she has reason to be well
satisfied, and happy.
Ah, sir I said he, you told me once she was in London, waiting on a
bishop’s lady, when all the time she was a severe prisoner here.—Well,
that’s all over now, Goodman Andrews, said my master: but the times are
altered; for now the sweet girl has taken me prisoner; and in a few
days I shall put on the most agreeable fetters that ever man wore.
O, sir! said, he, you are too pleasant for my griefs. My heart’s almost
broke. But may I not see my poor child? You shall presently, said he;
for she is coming down to us; and since you won’t believe me, I hope
you will her.
I will ask you, good sir, said he, but one question till then, that I
may know how to look upon her when I see her. Is she honest? Is she
virtuous?—As the new-born babe, Mr. Andrews, said my good master; and
in twelve days time, I hope, will be my wife.
O flatter me not, good your honour, said he: It cannot be! it cannot
be!—I fear you have deluded her with strange hopes; and would make me
believe impossibilities!—Mrs. Jewkes, said he, do you tell my dear
Pamela’s good father, when I go out, all you know concerning me, and
your mistress that is to be. Meantime, make much of him, and set out
what you have; and make him drink a glass of what he likes best. If
this be wine, added he, fill me a bumper.
She did so; and he took my father by the hand, and said, Believe me,
good man, and be easy; for I can’t bear to see you tortured in this
cruel suspense: Your dear daughter is the beloved of my soul. I am glad
you are come: for you’ll see us all in the same story. And here’s your
dame’s health; and God bless you both, for being the happy means of
procuring for me so great a blessing! And so he drank a bumper to this
most obliging health.
What do I hear? It cannot surely be! said my father. And your honour is
too good, I hope, to mock a poor old man—This ugly story, sir, of the
bishop, runs in my head—But you say I shall see my dear child—And I
shall see her honest.—If not, poor as I am, I would not own her.
My master bid Mrs. Jewkes not to let me know yet, that my father was
come; and went to the company, and said, I have been agreeably
surprised: Here is honest old Goodman Andrews come full of grief to see
his daughter; for he fears she is seduced; and tells me, good honest
man, that, poor as he is, he will not own her, if she be not virtuous.
O, said they all, with one voice almost, Dear sir! shall we not see the
good old man you have so praised for his plain good sense, and honest
heart? If, said he, I thought Pamela would not be too much affected
with the surprise, I would make you all witness to their first
interview; for never did daughter love a father, or a father a
daughter, as they two do one another. Miss Darnford, and all the
ladies, and the gentlemen too, begged it might be so. But was not this
very cruel, my dear mother? For well might they think I should not
support myself in such an agreeable surprise.
He said, kindly, I have but one fear, that the dear girl may be too
much affected. O, said Lady Darnford, we’ll all help to keep up her
spirits. Says he, I’ll go up, and prepare her; but won’t tell her of
it. So he came up to me, as I have said, and amused me about Mr.
Williams, to half prepare me for some surprise; though that could not
have been any thing to this: and he left me, as I said, in that
suspense, at his mystical words, saying, He would send to me, when they
were going to cards.
My master went from me to my father, and asked if he had eaten any
thing. No, said Mrs. Jewkes; the good man’s heart is so full, he cannot
eat, nor do any thing, till he has seen his dear daughter. That shall
soon be, said my master. I will have you come in with me; for she is
going to sit down with my guests, to a game at quadrille; and I will
send for her down. O, sir, said my father, don’t, don’t let me; I am
not fit to appear before your guests; let me see my daughter by myself,
I beseech you. Said he, They all know your honest character, Goodman
Andrews, and long to see you, for Pamela’s sake.
So he took my father by the hand, and led him in, against his will, to
the company. They were all very good. My master kindly said, Ladies and
gentlemen, I present to you one of the honestest men in England, my
good Pamela’s father. Mr. Peters went to him, and took him by the hand,
and said, We are all glad to see you, sir; you are the happiest man in
the world in a daughter; whom we never saw before to-day, but cannot
enough admire.
Said my master, This gentleman, Goodman Andrews, is the minister of the
parish; but is not young enough for Mr. Williams. This airy expression,
my poor father said, made him fear, for a moment, that all was a
jest.—Sir Simon also took him by the hand, and said, Ay, you have a
sweet daughter, Honesty; we are all in love with her. And the ladies
came, and said very fine things: Lady Darnford particularly, That he
might think himself the happiest man in England, in such a daughter.
If, and please you, madam, said he, she be but virtuous, ’tis all in
all: For all the rest is accident. But I doubt his honour has been too
much upon the jest with me. No, said Mrs. Peters, we are all witnesses,
that he intends very honourably by her.—It is some comfort, said he,
and wiped his eyes, that such good ladies say so—But I wish I could see
her.
They would have had him sit down by them; but he would only sit behind
the door, in the corner of the room, so that one could not soon see him
as one came in; because the door opened against him, and hid him
almost. The ladies all sat down; and my master said, Desire Mrs. Jewkes
to step up, and tell Mrs. Andrews the ladies wait for her. So down I
came.
Miss Darnford rose, and met me at the door, and said, Well, Miss
Andrews, we longed for your company. I did not see my dear father; and
it seems his heart was too full to speak; and he got up, and sat down
three or four times successively, unable to come to me, or to say any
thing. The ladies looked that way: but I would not, supposing it was
Mr. Williams. And they made me sit down between Lady Darnford and Lady
Jones; and asked me, what we should play at? I said, At what your
ladyships please. I wondered to see them smile, and look upon me, and
to that corner of the room; but I was afraid of looking that way, for
fear of seeing Mr. Williams; though my face was that way too, and the
table before me.
Said my master, Did you send your letter away to the post-house, my
good girl, for your father? To be sure, sir, said I, I did not forget
that: I took the liberty to desire Mr. Thomas to carry it. What, said
he, I wonder, will the good old couple say to it? O sir, said I, your
goodness will be a cordial to their dear honest hearts! At that, my
dear father, not able to contain himself, nor yet to stir from the
place, gushed out into a flood of tears, which he, good soul! had been
struggling with, it seems; and cried out, O my dear child!
I knew the voice, and, lifting up my eyes, and seeing my father, gave a
spring, overturned the table, without regard to the company, and threw
myself at his feet: O my father! my father! said I, can it be?—Is it
you? Yes, it is! it is!—O bless your happy daughter! I would have said,
and down I sunk.
My master seemed concerned—I feared, said he, that the surprise would
be too much for her spirits; and all the ladies ran to me, and made me
drink a glass of water; and I found myself encircled in the arms of my
dearest father.—O tell me, said I, every thing! How long have you been
here? When did you come? How does my honoured mother? And half a dozen
questions more, before he could answer one.
They permitted me to retire with my father; and then I poured forth all
my vows and thanksgivings to God for this additional blessing; and
confirmed all my master’s goodness to his scarce-believing amazement.
And we kneeled together, blessing God, and one another, for several
ecstatic minutes and my master coming in soon after, my dear father
said, O sir, what a change is this! May, God reward and bless you, both
in this world and the next!
May God bless us all! said he. But how does my sweet girl? I have been
in pain for you—I am sorry I did not apprise you beforehand.
O sir, said I, it was you; and all you do must be good—But this was a
blessing so unexpected!——
Well, said he, you have given pain to all the company. They will be
glad to see you, when you can: for you have spoiled all their
diversion; and yet painfully delighted them at the same time. Mr.
Andrews, added he, do you make this house your own; and the longer you
stay, the more welcome you’ll be. After you have a little composed
yourself, my dear girl, step in to us again. I am glad to see you so
well already. And so he left us.
See you, my dear father, said I, what goodness there is in this once
naughty master! O pray for him! and pray for me, that I may deserve it!
How long has this happy change been wrought, my dear child?—O, said I,
several happy days!—I have written down every thing; and you’ll see,
from the depth of misery, what God has done for your happy daughter!
Blessed be his name! said he. But do you say he will marry you? Can it
be, that such a brave gentleman will make a lady of the child of such a
poor man as I? O the divine goodness! How will your poor dear mother be
able to support these happy tidings? I will set out to-morrow, to
acquaint her with them: for I am but half happy, till the dear good
woman shares them with me!—To be sure, my dear child, we ought to go
into some far country to hide ourselves, that we may not disgrace you
by our poverty!
O, my dear father, said I, now you are unkind for the first time! Your
poverty has been my glory, and my riches; and I have nothing to brag
of, but that I ever thought it an honour, rather than a disgrace;
because you were always so honest, that your child might well boast of
such a parentage!
In this manner, my dear mother, did we pass the happy moments, till
Miss Darnford came to me, and said, How do you do, dear madam? I
rejoice to see you so well! Pray let us have your company. And yours
too, good Mr. Andrews, taking his hand.
This was very obliging, I told her; and we went to the great parlour;
and my master took my father by the hand, and made him sit down by him,
and drink a glass of wine with him. Mean-time, I made my excuses to the
ladies, as well as I could, which they readily granted me. But Sir
Simon, after his comical manner, put his hands on my shoulders: Let me
see, let me see, said he, where your wings grow; for I never saw any
body fly like you.—Why, said he, you have broken Lady Jones’s shins
with the table. Shew her else, madam.
His pleasantry made them laugh. And I said, I was very sorry for my
extravagancy: and if it had not been my master’s doings, I should have
said, it was a fault to permit me to be surprised, and put out of
myself, before such good company. They said, All was very excusable;
and they were glad I suffered no more by it.
They were so kind as to excuse me at cards, and played by themselves;
and I went by my master’s commands and sat on the other side, in the
happiest place I ever was blest with, between two of the dearest men in
the world to me, and each holding one of my hands:—my father, every now
and then, with tears, lifting up his eyes, and saying, Could I ever
have hoped this!
I asked him, If he had been so kind as to bring the papers with him? He
said, He had; and looked at me, as who should say, Must I give them to
you now?—I said, Be pleased to let me have them. He pulled them from
his pocket; and I stood up, and, with my best duty, gave them into my
master’s hands. He said, Thank you, Pamela. Your father shall take all
with him, so see what a sad fellow I have been, as well as the present
happier alteration. But I must have them all again, for the writer’s
sake.
The ladies and gentlemen would make me govern the tea-table, whatever I
could do; and Abraham attended me, to serve the company. My master and
my father sat together, and drank a glass or two of wine instead of
tea, and Sir Simon joked with my master, saying, I warrant you would
not be such a woman’s man, as to drink tea, for ever so much, with the
ladies. But your time’s coming, and I doubt not you’ll be made as
comfortable as I.
My master was very urgent with them to stay supper; and at last they
complied, on condition that I would grace the table, as they were
pleased to call it. I begged to be excused. My master said, Don’t be
excused, Pamela, since the ladies desire it: And besides, said he, we
won’t part with your father; and so you may as well stay with us.
I was in hopes my father and I might sup by ourselves, or only with
Mrs. Jewkes. And Miss Darnford, who is a most obliging young lady,
said, We will not part with you, indeed we won’t.
When supper was brought in, Lady Darnford took me by the hand, and said
to my master, Sir, by your leave; and would have placed me at the upper
end of the table. Pray, pray, madam, said I, excuse me; I cannot do it,
indeed I cannot. Pamela, said my master, to the great delight of my
good father, as I could see by his looks, oblige Lady Darnford, since
she desires it. It is but a little before your time, you know.
Dear, good sir, said I, pray don’t command it! Let me sit by my father,
pray! Why, said Sir Simon, here’s ado indeed! Sit down at the upper
end, as you should do; and your father shall sit by you, there. This
put my dear father upon difficulties. And my master said, Come, I’ll
place you all: and so put Lady Darnford at the upper end, Lady Jones at
her right hand, and Mrs. Peters on the other; and he placed me between
the two young ladies; but very genteelly put Miss Darnford below her
younger sister; saying, Come, miss, I put you here, because you shall
hedge in this little cuckow; for I take notice, with pleasure, of your
goodness to her; and, besides, all you very young ladies should sit
together. This seemed to please both sisters; for had the youngest miss
been put there, it might have piqued her, as matters have been
formerly, to be placed below me; whereas Miss Darnford giving place to
her youngest sister, made it less odd she should to me; especially with
that handsome turn of the dear man, as if I was a cuckow, and to be
hedged in.
My master kindly said, Come, Mr. Andrews, you and I will sit together.
And so took his place at the bottom of the table, and set my father on
his right hand; and Sir Simon would sit on his left. For, said he,
parson, I think the petticoats should sit together; and so do you sit
down by that lady (his sister). A boiled turkey standing by me, my
master said, Cut up that turkey, Pamela, if it be not too strong work
for you, that Lady Darnford may not have too much trouble. So I carved
it in a trice, and helped the ladies. Miss Darnford said, I would give
something to be so dexterous a carver. O madam, said I, my late good
lady would always make me do these things, when she entertained her
female friends, as she used to do on particular days.
Ay, said my master, I remember my poor mother would often say, if I, or
any body at table, happened to be a little out in carving, I’ll send up
for my Pamela, to shew you how to carve. Said Lady Jones, Mrs. Andrews
has every accomplishment of her sex. She is quite wonderful for her
years. Miss Darnford said, And I can tell you, madam, that she plays
sweetly upon the spinnet, and sings as sweetly to it; for she has a
fine voice. Foolish! said Sir Simon; who, that hears her speak, knows
not that? And who that sees her fingers, believes not that they were
made to touch any key? O, parson! said he, ’tis well you’re by, or I
should have had a blush from the ladies. I hope not, Sir Simon, said
Lady Jones; for a gentleman of your politeness would not say any thing
that would make ladies blush.—No, no, said he, for the world: but if I
had, it would have been, as the poet says,
‘They blush, because they understand.’
When the company went away, Lady Darnford, Lady Jones, and Mrs. Peters,
severally invited my master, and me with him, to their houses; and
begged he would permit me, at least, to come before we left those
parts. And they said, We hope, when the happy knot is tied, you will
induce Mr. B—— to reside more among us. We were always glad, said Lady
Darnford, when he was here; but now shall have double reason. O what
grateful things were these to the ears of my good father!
When the company was gone, my master asked my father, if he smoked? He
answered, No. He made us both sit down by him, and said, I have been
telling this sweet girl, that in fourteen days, and two of them are
gone, she must fix on one to make me happy. And have left it to her to
choose either one of the first or last seven. My father held up his
hands, and eyes; God bless your honour! said he, is all I can say. Now,
Pamela, said my master, taking my hand, don’t let a little wrong-timed
bashfulness take place, without any other reason, because I should be
glad to go to Bedfordshire as soon as I could; and I would not return
till I carry my servants there a mistress, who should assist me to
repair the mischiefs she has made in it.
I could not look up for confusion. And my father said, My dear child, I
need not, I am sure, prompt your obedience in whatever will most oblige
so good a gentleman. What says my Pamela? said my master: She does not
use to be at a loss for expressions. Sir, said I, were I too sudden, it
would look as if I doubted whether you would hold in your mind, and was
not willing to give you time for reflection: but otherwise, to be sure
I ought to resign myself implicitly to your will. Said he, I want not
time for reflection: for I have often told you, and that long ago, I
could not live without you: and my pride of condition made me both
tempt and terrify you to other terms; but your virtue was proof against
all temptations, and was not to be awed by terrors: Wherefore, as I
could not conquer my passion for you, I corrected myself, and resolved,
since you would not be mine upon my terms, you should upon your own:
and now I desire you not on any other, I assure you: and I think the
sooner it is done, the better. What say you, Mr. Andrews? Sir, said he,
there is so much goodness on your side, and, blessed be God! so much
prudence on my daughter’s, that I must be quite silent. But when it is
done, I and my poor wife shall have nothing to do, but to pray for you
both, and to look back, with wonder and joy, on the ways of Providence.
This, said my master, is Friday night; and suppose, my girl, it be next
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday morning?—Say, my Pamela.
Will you, sir, said I, excuse me till to-morrow for an answer? I will,
said he; and touched the bell, and called for Mrs. Jewkes. Where, said
he, does Mr. Andrews lie to-night? You’ll take care of him. He’s a very
good man; and will bring a blessing upon every house he sets his foot
in.
My dear father wept for joy; and I could not refrain keeping him
company. And my master, saluting me, bid us good night, and retired.
And I waited upon my dear father, and was so full of prattle, of my
master’s goodness, and my future prospects, that I believed afterwards
I was turned all into tongue: but he indulged me, and was transported
with joy; and went to bed, and dreamed of nothing but Jacob’s ladder,
and angels ascending and descending, to bless him and his daughter.
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. O 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 ’twas 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 Williams’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 any body’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. Jewkes 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 every body; 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 amends 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. Ay, 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.