said, That I had very charitably turned the last verses, which, in the
original, were full of heavy curses, to a wish that shewed I was not of
an implacable disposition though my then usage might have excused it,
if I had. But, said he, I think you shall sing it to me to-morrow.
After we have breakfasted, added he, if you have no objection, Pamela,
we’ll take an airing together; and it shall be in the coach, because
we’ll have your father’s company. He would have excused himself; but my
master would have it so: but he was much ashamed, because of the
meanness of his appearance.
My master would make us both breakfast with him on chocolate; and he
said, I would have you, Pamela, begin to dress as you used to do; for
now, at least, you may call your two other bundles your own; and if you
want any thing against the approaching occasion, private as I design
it, I’ll send to Lincoln for it, by a special messenger. I said, My
good lady’s bounty, and his own, had set me much above my degree, and I
had very good things of all sorts; and I did not desire any other,
because I would not excite the censure of the ladies. That would be a
different thing, he was pleased to say, when he publicly owned his
nuptials, after we came to the other house. But, at present, if I was
satisfied, he would not make words with me.
I hope, Mr. Andrews, said he, to my father, you’ll not leave us till
you see the affair over, and then you’ll be sure I mean honourably:
and, besides, Pamela will be induced to set the day sooner. O, sir,
said he, I bless God I have no reason to doubt your meaning honourably:
and I hope you’ll excuse me, if I set out on Monday morning, very
early, to my dear wife, and make her as happy as I am.
Why, Pamela, says my good master, may it not be performed on Tuesday?
And then your father, maybe, will stay.—I should have been glad to have
had it to-morrow, added he; but I have sent Monsieur Colbrand for a
license, that, you may have no scruple unanswered; and he can’t very
well be back before to-morrow night, or Monday morning.
This was most agreeable news. I said, Sir, I know my dear father will
want to be at home: and as you was so good to give me a fortnight from
last Thursday, I should be glad you would be pleased to indulge me
still to some day in the second seven.
Well, said he, I will not be too urgent; but the sooner you fix, the
better. Mr. Andrews, we must leave something to these Jephthah’s
daughters, in these cases, he was pleased to say: I suppose the little
bashful folly, which, in the happiest circumstances, may give a kind of
regret to quit the maiden state, and an awkwardness at the entrance
into a new one, is a reason with Pamela; and so she shall name her day.
Sir, said he, you are all goodness.
I went up soon after, and new dressed myself, taking possession, in a
happy moment, I hope, of my two bundles, as my good master was pleased
to call them; (alluding to my former division of those good things my
lady and himself bestowed upon me;) and so put on fine linen, silk
shoes, and fine white cotton stockings, a fine quilted coat, a delicate
green Mantea silk gown and coat, a French necklace, and a laced cambric
handkerchief, and clean gloves; and, taking my fan in my hand, I, like
a little proud hussy, looked in the glass, and thought myself a
gentlewoman once more; but I forgot not to return due thanks, for being
able to put on this dress with so much comfort.
Mrs. Jewkes would help to dress me, and complimented me highly, saying,
among other things, That now I looked like a lady indeed: and as, she
said, the little chapel was ready, and divine service would be read in
it to-morrow, she wished the happy knot might then be tied. Said she,
Have you not seen the chapel, madam, since it has been cleaned out? No,
said I; but are we to have service in it to-morrow, do you say?—I am
glad of that; for I have been a sad heathen lately, sore against my
will!—But who is to officiate?—Somebody, replied she, Mr. Peters will
send. You tell me very good news, said I, Mrs. Jewkes: I hope it will
never be a lumber-room again.—Ay, said she, I can tell you more good
news; for the two Misses Darnford, and Lady Jones, are to be here at
the opening of it; and will stay and dine with you. My master, said I,
has not told me that. You must alter your style, madam, said she: It
must not be master now, sure!—O, returned I, this is a language I shall
never forget: he shall always be my master; and I shall think myself
more and more his servant.
My poor father did not know I went up to dress myself; and he said his
heart misgave him when he saw me first, for fear I was made a fool of,
and that here was some fine lady that was to be my master’s true wife.
And he stood in admiration, and said, O, my dear child, how well will
you become your happy condition! Why you look like a lady already! I
hope, my dear father, said I, and boldly kissed him, I shall always be
your dutiful daughter, whatever my condition be.
My master sent me word he was ready; and when he saw me, said, Dress as
you will, Pamela, you’re a charming girl! and so handed me to the
coach, and would make my father and me sit both on the foreside, and
sat backwards, over against me; and bid the coachman drive to the
meadow; that is, where he once met Mr. Williams.
The conversation was most agreeable to me, and to my dear father, as we
went; and he more and more exceeded in goodness and generosity; and,
while I was gone up to dress, he had presented my father with twenty
guineas; desiring him to buy himself and my mother such apparel as they
should think proper; and lay it all out: but I knew not this till after
we came home; my father having had no opportunity to tell me of it.
He was pleased to inform me of the chapel being got in tolerable order;
and said, it looked very well; and against he came down next, it should
be all new white-washed, and painted and lined; and a new pulpit-cloth,
cushion, desk, etc. and that it should always be kept in order for the
future. He told me the two Misses Darnford, and Lady Jones, would dine
with him on Sunday: And, with their servants and mine, said he, we
shall make a tolerable congregation. And, added he, have I not well
contrived to shew you that the chapel is really a little house of God,
and has been consecrated, before we solemnize our nuptials in it?—O,
sir, replied I, your goodness to me is inexpressible! Mr. Peters, said
he, offered to come and officiate in it; but would not stay to dine
with me, because he has company at his own house: and so I intend that
divine service shall be performed in it by one to whom I shall make
some yearly allowance, as a sort of chaplain.—You look serious, Pamela,
added he: I know you think of your friend Williams. Indeed, sir, said
I, if you won’t be angry, I did. Poor man! I am sorry I have been the
cause of his disobliging you.
When we came to the meadow, where the gentry have their walk sometimes,
the coach stopt, and my master alighted, and led me to the brook-side,
and it is a very pretty summer walk. He asked my father, If he chose to
walk out, or go on in the coach to the farther end? He, poor man, chose
to go on in the coach, for fear, he said, any gentry should be walking
there; and he told me, he was most of the way upon his knees in the
coach, thanking God for his gracious mercies and goodness; and begging
a blessing upon my good master and me.
I was quite astonished, when we came into the shady walk, to see Mr.
Williams there. See there, said my master, there’s poor Williams,
taking his solitary walk again, with his book. And, it seems, it was so
contrived; for Mr. Peters had been, as I since find, desired to tell
him to be in that walk at such an hour in the morning.
So, old acquaintance, said my master, again have I met you in this
place? What book are you now reading? He said, it was Boileau’s Lutrin.
Said my master, You see I have brought with me my little fugitive, that
would have been: While you are perfecting yourself in French, I am
trying to learn English; and hope soon to be master of it.
Mine, sir, said he, is a very beautiful piece of French: but your
English has no equal.
You are very polite, Mr. Williams, said my master: And he that does not
think as you do, deserves no share in her. Why, Pamela, added he, very
generously, why so strange, where you have once been so familiar? I do
assure you both, that I mean not, by this interview, to insult Mr.
Williams, or confound you. Then I said, Mr. Williams, I am very glad to
see you well; and though the generous favour of my good master has
happily changed the scene, since you and I last saw one another, I am
nevertheless very glad of an opportunity to acknowledge, with
gratitude, your good intentions, not so much to serve me, as me, but as
a person—that then had great reason to believe herself in distress. And
I hope, sir, added I, to my master, your goodness will permit me to say
this.
You, Pamela, said he, may make what acknowledgments you please to Mr.
Williams’s good intentions; and I would have you speak as you think;
but I do not apprehend myself to be quite so much obliged to those
intentions.
Sir, said Mr. Williams, I beg leave to say, I knew well, that, by
education, you was no libertine; nor had I reason to think you so by
inclination; and, when you came to reflect, I hoped you would not be
displeased with me. And this was no small motive to me, at first, to do
as I did.
Ay, but Mr. Williams, said my master, could you think I should have had
reason to thank you, if, loving one person above all her sex, you had
robbed me of her, and married her yourself?—And then, said he, you are
to consider, that she was an old acquaintance of mine, and a quite new
one to you; that I had sent her down to my own house, for better
securing her; and that you, who had access to my house, could not
effect your purpose, without being guilty, in some sort, of a breach of
the laws of hospitality and friendship. As to my designs upon her, I
own they had not the best appearance; but still I was not answerable to
Mr. Williams for those; much less could you be excused to invade a
property so very dear to me, and to endeavour to gain an interest in
her affections, when you could not be certain that matters would not
turn out as they have actually done.
I own, said he, that some parts of my conduct seem exceptionable, as
you state it. But, sir, I am but a young man. I meant no harm. I had no
interest, I am sure, to incur your displeasure; and when you think of
every thing, and the inimitable graces of person, and perfections of
mind, that adorn this excellent lady, (so he called me,) you will,
perhaps, find your generosity allow something as an extenuation of a
fault, which your anger would not permit as an excuse.
I have done, said my master; nor did I meet you here to be angry with
you. Pamela knew not that she should see you: and now you are both
present, I would ask you, Mr. Williams, If, now you know my honourable
designs towards this good girl, you can really be almost, I will not
say quite, as well pleased with the friendship of my wife, as you could
be with the favour of Mrs. Andrews?
Sir, said he, I will answer you truly. I think I could have preferred,
with her, any condition that could have befallen me, had I considered
only myself. But, sir, I was very far from having any encouragement to
expect her favour; and I had much more reason to believe, that, if she
could have hoped for your goodness, her heart would have been too much
pre-engaged to think of any body else. And give me leave further to
say, sir, that, though I tell you sincerely my thoughts, were I only to
consider myself; yet, when I consider her good, and her merit, I should
be highly ungenerous, were it put to my choice, if I could not wish her
in a condition so much superior to what I could raise her to, and so
very answerable to her merit.
Pamela, said my master, you are obliged to Mr. Williams, and ought to
thank him: He has distinguished well. But, as for me, who had like to
have lost you by his means, I am glad the matter was not left to his
choice. Mr. Williams, added he, I give you Pamela’s hand, because I
know it will be pleasing to her, in token of her friendship and esteem
for you; and I give you mine, that I will not be your enemy: but yet I
must say, that I think I owe this proper manner of your thinking more
to your disappointment, than to the generosity you talk of.
Mr. Williams kissed my hand, as my master gave it him; and my master
said, Sir, you will go home and dine with me, and I’ll shew you my
little chapel; and do you, Pamela, look upon yourself at liberty to
number Mr. Williams in the list of your friends.
How generous, how noble, was this! Mr. Williams (and so had I) had
tears of pleasure in his eyes. I was silent: But Mr. Williams said,
Sir, I shall be taught, by your generosity, to think myself inexcusably
wrong, in every step I took, that could give you offence; and my future
life shall shew my respectful gratitude.
We walked on till we came to the coach, where was my dear father.
Pamela, said my master, tell Mr. Williams who that good man is. O, Mr.
Williams! said I, it is my dear father! and my master was pleased to
say, One of the honestest men in England: Pamela owes every thing that
she is to be, as well as her being, to him; for, I think, she would not
have brought me to this, nor made so great resistance, but for the good
lessons, and religious education, she had imbibed from him.
Mr. Williams said, taking father’s hand, You see, good Mr. Andrews,
with inexpressible pleasure, no doubt, the fruits of your pious care;
and now are in a way, with your beloved daughter, to reap the happy
effects of it.—I am overcome, said my dear father, with his honour’s
goodness: But I can only say, I bless God, and bless him.
Mr. Williams and I being nearer the coach than my master, and he
offering to draw back, to give way to him, he kindly said, Pray, Mr.
Williams, oblige Pamela with your hand; and step in yourself. He bowed,
and took my hand; and my master made him step in, and sit next me, all
that ever he could do; and sat himself over against him, next my
father, who sat against me.
And he said, Mr. Andrews, I told you yesterday that the divine you saw
was not Mr. Williams; I now tell you, this gentleman is: and though I
have been telling him, I think not myself obliged to his intentions;
yet I will own that Pamela and you are; and though I won’t promise to
love him, I would have you.
Sir, said Mr. Williams, you have a way of overcoming, that hardly all
my reading affords an instance of; and it is the more noble, as it is
on this side, as I presume, the happy ceremony, which, great as your
fortune is, will lay you under an obligation to so much virtue and
beauty, when the lady becomes yours; for you will then have a treasure
that princes might envy you.
Said my generous master, (God bless him!) Mr. Williams, it is
impossible that you and I should long live at variance, when our
sentiments agree so well together, on subjects the most material.
I was quite confounded; and my master, seeing it, took my hand, and
said, Look up, my good girl; and collect yourself.—Don’t injure Mr.
Williams and me so much, as to think we are capping compliments, as we
used to do verses at school. I dare answer for us both, that we say not
a syllable we don’t think.
O sir, said I, how unequal am I to all this goodness! Every moment that
passes adds to the weight of the obligations you oppress me with.
Think not too much of that, said he most generously. Mr. Williams’s
compliments to you have great advantage of mine: For, though equally
sincere, I have a great deal to say, and to do, to compensate the
sufferings I have made you undergo; and, at last, must sit down
dissatisfied, because those will never be balanced by all I can do for
you.
He saw my dear father quite unable to support these affecting instances
of his goodness;—and he let go my hand, and took his; and said, seeing
his tears, I wonder not, my dear Pamela’s father, that your honest
heart springs thus to your eyes, to see all her trials at an end. I
will not pretend to say, that I had formerly either power or will to
act thus: But since I began to resolve on the change you see, I have
reaped so much pleasure in it, that my own interest will keep me
steady: For, till within these few days, I knew not what it was to be
happy.
Poor Mr. Williams, with tears of joy in his eyes, said, How happily,
sir, have you been touched by the divine grace, before you have been
hurried into the commission of sins, that the deepest penitence could
hardly have atoned for!—God has enabled you to stop short of the evil;
and you have nothing to do, but to rejoice in the good, which now will
be doubly so, because you can receive it without the least inward
reproach.
You do well, said he, to remind me, that I owe all this to the grace of
God. I bless Him for it; and I thank this good man for his excellent
lessons to his daughter; I thank her for following them: and I hope,
from her good example, and your friendship, Mr. Williams, in time, to
be half as good as my tutoress: and that, said he, I believe you’ll
own, will make me, without disparagement to any man, the best
fox-hunter in England.—Mr. Williams was going to speak: and he said,
You put on so grave a look, Mr. Williams, that, I believe, what I have
said, with you practical good folks, is liable to exception: but I see
we are become quite grave; and we must not be too serious neither.
What a happy creature, my dear mother, is your Pamela!—O may my
thankful heart, and the good use I may be enabled to make of the
blessings before me, be a means to continue this delightful prospect to
a long date, for the sake of the dear good gentleman, who thus becomes
the happy instrument, in the hand of Providence, to bless all he smiles
upon! To be sure, I shall never enough acknowledge the value he is
pleased to express for my unworthiness, in that he has prevented my
wishes, and, unasked, sought the occasion of being reconciled to a good
man, who, for my sake, had incurred his displeasure; and whose name he
could not, a few days before, permit to pass through my lips! But see
the wonderful ways of Providence! The very things that I most dreaded
his seeing or knowing, the contents of my papers, have, as I hope,
satisfied all his scruples, and been a means to promote my happiness.
Henceforth let not us poor short-sighted mortals pretend to rely on our
own wisdom; or vainly think, that we are absolutely to direct for
ourselves. I have abundant reason, I am sure, to say, that, when I was
most disappointed, I was nearer my happiness: for had I made my escape,
which was so often my chief point in view, and what I had placed my
heart upon, I had escaped the blessings now before me, and fallen,
perhaps headlong, into the miseries I would have avoided. And yet,
after all, it was necessary I should take the steps I did, to bring on
this wonderful turn: O the unsearchable wisdom of God!—And how much
ought I to adore the divine goodness, and humble myself, who am made a
poor instrument, as I hope, not only to magnify his graciousness to
this fine gentleman and myself, but also to dispense benefits to
others! Which God of his mercy grant!
In the agreeable manner I have mentioned, did we pass the time in our
second happy tour; and I thought Mrs. Jewkes would have sunk into the
ground, when she saw Mr. Williams brought in the coach with us, and
treated so kindly. We dined together in a most pleasant, easy, and
frank manner; and I found I need not, from my master’s generosity, to
be under any restraint, as to my conduct to this good clergyman: For
he, so often as he fancied I was reserved, moved me to be free with
him, and to him; and several times called upon me to help my father and
Mr. Williams; and seemed to take great delight in seeing me carve, as,
indeed, he does in every thing I do.
After dinner we went and looked into the chapel, which is a very pretty
one, and very decent; and, when finished as he designs it, against his
next coming down, will be a very pretty place.
My heart, my dear mother, when I first set my foot in it, throbbed a
good deal, with awful joy, at the thoughts of the solemnity, which, I
hope, will in a few days be performed here. And when I came up towards
the little pretty altar-piece, while they were looking at a
communion-picture, and saying it was prettily done, I gently stept into
a corner, out of sight, and poured out my soul to God on my knees, in
supplication and thankfulness, that, after having been so long absent
from divine service, the first time I entered into a house dedicated to
his honour, should be with such blessed prospects before me; and
begging of God to continue me humble, and to make me not unworthy of
his mercies; and that he would be pleased to bless the next author of
my happiness, my good master.
I heard my master say, Where’s Pamela? And so I broke off sooner than I
would, and went up to him.
He said, Mr. Williams, I hope I have not so offended you by my conduct
past, (for really it is what I ought to be ashamed of,) as that you
will refuse to officiate, and to give us your instructions here
to-morrow. Mr. Peters was so kind, for the first time, to offer it; but
I knew it would be inconvenient for him; and, besides, I was willing to
make this request to you an introduction to our reconciliation.
Sir, said he, most willingly, and most gratefully, will I obey you:
Though, if you expect a discourse, I am wholly unprepared for the
occasion. I would not have it, replied he, pointed to any particular
occasion; but if you have one upon the text—There is more joy in Heaven
over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-nine just persons that
need no repentance; and if it makes me not such a sad fellow as to be
pointed at by mine and the ladies’ servants we shall have here, I shall
be well content. ’Tis a general subject, added he, makes me speak of
that; but any one you please will do; for you cannot make a bad choice,
I am sure.
Sir, said he, I have one upon that text; but I am ready to think, that
a thanksgiving one, which I made on a great mercy to myself, if I may
be permitted to make my own acknowledgments of your favour the subject
of a discourse, will be suitable to my grateful sentiments. It is on
the text;—Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation.
That text, said I, will be a very suitable one for me. Not so, Pamela,
said my master; because I don’t let you depart in peace; but I hope you
will stay here with content.
O but, sir, said I, I have seen God’s salvation!—I am sure, added I, if
any body ever had reason, I have to say, with the blessed virgin, My
soul doth magnify the Lord; for he hath regarded the low estate of his
handmaiden—and exalted one of low degree.
Said my good father, I am sure, if there were time for it, the book of
Ruth would afford a fine subject for the honour done my dear child.
Why, good Mr. Andrews, said my master, should you say so?—I know that
story, and Mr. Williams will confirm what I say, that my good girl here
will confer at least as much honour as she will receive.
Sir, said I, you are inexpressibly generous; but I shall never think
so. Why, my Pamela, said he, that’s another thing: It will be best for
me to think you will; and it will be kind in you to think you shan’t;
and then we shall always have an excellent rule to regulate our conduct
by to one another.
Was not this finely, nobly, wisely said, my dear mother?—O what a
blessed thing it is to be matched to a man of sense and generosity!—How
edifying! How!—But what shall I say?—I am at loss for words.
Mr. Williams said, when we came out of the little chapel, He would go
home, and look over his discourses, for one for the next day. My master
said, I have one thing to say before you go—When my jealousy, on
account of this good girl, put me upon such a vindictive conduct to
you, you know I took a bond for the money I had caused you to be
troubled for: I really am ashamed of the matter; because I never
intended, when I presented it to you, to have it again, you may be
sure: But I knew not what might happen between you and her, nor how far
matters might have gone between you; and so I was willing to have that
in awe over you. And I think it is no extraordinary present, therefore,
to give you up your bond again cancelled. And so he took it from his
pocket, and gave it him. I think, added he, all the charges attending
it, and the trouble you had, were defrayed by my attorney; I ordered
that they should. They were, sir, said he; and ten thousand thanks to
you for this goodness, and the kind manner in which you do it.—If you
will go, Mr. Williams, said he, shall my chariot carry you home? No,
sir, answered he, I thank you. My time will be so well employed all the
way, in thinking of your favours, that I choose to meditate upon them,
as I walk home.