thou can’st not stand it, so must sit down, though in my presence!—I
still kept my seat, and said nothing.—Thought I, this is a sad thing,
that I am hindered too from shewing my duty where it is most due, and
shall have anger there too, may be, if my dear master should be there
before me!—So she ate some soup, as did her kinsman; and then, as she
was cutting up a fowl, said, If thou longest, my little dear, I will
help thee to a pinion, or breast, or any thing. But may be, child, said
he, thou likest the rump; shall I bring it thee? And then laughed like
an idiot, for all he is a lord’s son, and may be a lord himself.—For he
is the son of Lord ——; and his mother, who was Lord Davers’s sister,
being dead, he has received what education he has, from Lord Davers’s
direction. Poor wretch! for all his greatness! he’ll ne’er die for a
plot—at least of his own hatching. If I could then have gone up, I
would have given you his picture. But, for one of 25 or 26 years of
age, much about the age of my dear master, he is a most odd mortal.
Pamela, said my lady, help me to a glass of wine. No, Beck, said she,
you shan’t; for she was offering to do it. I will have my lady bride
confer that honour upon me; and then I shall see if she can stand up. I
was silent, and never stirred.
Dost hear, chastity? said she, help me to a glass of wine, when I bid
thee.—What! not stir? Then I’ll come and help thee to one. Still I
stirred not, and, fanning myself, continued silent. Said she, When I
have asked thee, meek-one, half a dozen questions together, I suppose
thou wilt answer them all at once! Pretty creature, is not that it?
I was so vexed, I bit a piece of my fan out, not knowing what I did;
but still I said nothing, and did nothing but flutter it, and fan
myself.
I believe, said she, my next question will make up half a dozen; and
then, modest one, I shall be entitled to an answer.
He rose and brought the bottle and glass; Come, said he, Mrs. Bride, be
pleased to help my lady, and I will be your deputy. Sir, replied I, it
is in a good hand; help my lady yourself.—Why, creature, said she, dost
thou think thyself above it?—And then flew into a passion:—Insolence!
continued she, this moment, when I bid you, know your duty, and give me
a glass of wine; or—
So I took a little spirit then—Thought I, I can but be beat.—If, said
I, to attend your ladyship at table, or even kneel at your feet, was
required of me, I would most gladly do it, were I only the person you
think me; but, if it be to triumph over one who has received honours,
that she thinks require her to act another part, not to be utterly
unworthy of them, I must say, I cannot do it.
She seemed quite surprised, and looked now upon her kinsman, and then
upon her woman—I’m astonished—quite astonished!—Well, then, I suppose
you would have me conclude you my brother’s wife; could you not?
Your ladyship, said I, compels me to say this!—Well, returned she, but
dost thou thyself think thou art so?—Silence, said her kinsman, gives
consent. ’Tis plain enough she does. Shall I rise, madam, and pay my
duty to my new aunt?
Tell me, said my lady, what, in the name of impudence, possesses thee
to dare to look upon thyself as my sister?—Madam, replied I, that is a
question will better become your most worthy brother to answer, than
me.
She was rising in great wrath: but her woman said, Good your ladyship,
you’ll do yourself more harm than her; and if the poor girl has been
deluded so, as you have heard, with the sham marriage, she’ll be more
deserving of your ladyship’s pity than anger. True, Beck, very true,
said my lady; but there’s no bearing the impudence of the creature in
the mean time.
I would have gone out at the door, but her kinsman ran and set his back
against it. I expected bad treatment from her pride, and violent
temper; but this was worse than I could have thought of. And I said to
him, Sir, when my master comes to know your rude behaviour, you will,
may be, have cause to repent it: and went and sat down in the window
again.
Another challenge, by gad! said he; but I am glad she says her
master!—You see, madam, she herself does not believe she is married,
and so has not been so much deluded as you think for: And, coming to me
with a most barbarous air of insult, he said, kneeling on one knee
before me, My new aunt, your blessing or your curse, I care not which;
but quickly give me one or other, that I may not lose my dinner!
I gave him a most contemptuous look: Tinselled toy, said I, (for he was
laced all over), twenty or thirty years hence, when you are at age, I
shall know how to answer you better; mean time, sport with your
footman, and not with me! and so I removed to another window nearer the
door, and he looked like a sad fool, as he is.
Beck, Beck, said my lady, this is not to be borne! Was ever the like
heard! Is my kinsman and Lord Davers’s to be thus used by such a slut?
And was coming to me: And indeed I began to be afraid; for I have but a
poor heart, after all. But Mrs. Jewkes hearing high words, came in
again, with the second course, and said, Pray your ladyship, don’t so
discompose yourself. I am afraid this day’s business will make matters
wider than ever between your good ladyship and your brother: For my
master doats upon madam.
Woman, said she, do thou be silent! Sure, I that was born in this
house, may have some privilege in it, without being talked to by the
saucy servants in it!
I beg pardon, madam, replied Mrs. Jewkes; and, turning to me, said,
Madam, my master will take it very ill if you make him wait for you
thus. So I rose to go out; but my lady said, If it was only for that
reason she shan’t go.—And went to the door and shut it, and said to
Mrs. Jewkes, Woman, don’t come again till I call you; and coming to me,
took my hand, and said, Find your legs, miss, if you please.
I stood up, and she tapped my cheek! Oh, says she, that scarlet glow
shews what a rancorous little heart thou hast, if thou durst shew it!
but come this way; and so led me to her chair: Stand there, said she,
and answer me a few questions while I dine, and I’ll dismiss thee, till
I call thy impudent master to account; and then I’ll have you face to
face, and all this mystery of iniquity shall be unravelled; for,
between you, I will come to the bottom of it.
When she had sat down, I moved to the window on the other side of the
parlour, looking into the private garden; and her woman said, Mrs.
Pamela, don’t make my lady angry. Stand by her ladyship, as she bids
you. Said I, Pray, good now, let it suffice you to attend your lady’s
commands, and don’t lay yours upon me.—Your pardon, sweet Mrs. Pamela,
said she. Times are much altered with you, I’ll assure you! said I, Her
ladyship has a very good plea to be free in the house that she was born
in; but you may as well confine your freedoms to the house in which you
had your breedings. Why, how now, Mrs. Pamela, said she; since you
provoke me to it, I’ll tell you a piece of my mind. Hush, hush, good
woman, said I, alluding to my lady’s language to Mrs. Jewkes, my lady
wants not your assistance:—Besides, I can’t scold!
The woman was ready to flutter with vexation; and Lord Jackey laughed
as if he would burst his sides: G—d d—n me, Beck, said he, you’d better
let her alone to my lady here for she’ll be too many for twenty such as
you and I!—And then he laughed again, and repeated—I can’t scold,
quoth-a! but, by gad, miss, you can speak d——d spiteful words, I can
tell you that!—Poor Beck, poor Beck!—‘Fore gad, she’s quite
dumbfoundered!
Well, but Pamela, said my lady, come hither, and tell me truly, Dost
thou think thyself really married?—Said I, and approached her chair, My
good lady, I’ll answer all your commands, if you’ll have patience with
me, and not be so angry as you are: But I can’t bear to be used thus by
this gentleman, and your ladyship’s woman. Child, said she, thou art
very impertinent to my kinsman; thou can’st not be civil to me; and my
ladyship’s woman is much thy betters. But that’s not the thing!—Dost
thou think thou art really married?
I see, madam, said I, you are resolved not to be pleased with any
answer I shall return: If I should say, I am not, then your ladyship
will call me hard names, and, perhaps, I should tell a fib. If I should
say, I am, your ladyship will ask, how I have the impudence to be
so?—and will call it a sham-marriage. I will, said she, be answered
more directly. Why, what, madam, does it signify what I think? Your
ladyship will believe as you please.
But can’st thou have the vanity, the pride, the folly, said she, to
think thyself actually married to my brother? He is no fool, child; and
libertine enough of conscience; and thou art not the first in the list
of his credulous harlots.—Well, well, said I, (and was in a sad
flutter,) as I am easy, and pleased with my lot, pray, madam, let me
continue so, as long as I can. It will be time enough for me to know
the worst, when the worst comes. And if it should be so bad, your
ladyship should pity me, rather than thus torment me before my time.
Well, said she, but dost not think I am concerned, that a young wench,
whom my poor dear mother loved so well, should thus cast herself away,
and suffer herself to be deluded and undone, after such a noble stand
as thou madst for so long a time?
I think myself far from being deluded and undone, and am as innocent
and virtuous as ever I was in my life. Thou liest, child, said she.
So your ladyship told me twice before.
She gave me a slap on the hand for this; and I made a low courtesy, and
said, I humbly thank your ladyship! but I could not refrain tears: And
added, Your dear brother, madam, however, won’t thank your ladyship for
this usage of me, though I do. Come a little nearer me, my dear, said
she, and thou shalt have a little more than that to tell him of, if
thou think’st thou hast not made mischief enough already between a
sister and brother. But, child, if he was here, I would serve thee
worse, and him too. I wish he was, said I.—Dost thou threaten me,
mischief-maker, and insolent as thou art?
Now, pray, madam, said I, (but got to a little distance,) be pleased to
reflect upon all that you have said to me, since I have had the honour,
or rather misfortune, to come into your presence; whether you have said
one thing befitting your ladyship’s degree to me, even supposing I was
the wench and the creature you imagine me to be?—Come hither, my pert
dear, replied she, come but within my reach for one moment, and I’ll
answer thee as thou deservest.
To be sure she meant to box my ears. But I should not be worthy my
happy lot if I could not shew some spirit.
When the cloth was taken away, I said, I suppose I may now depart your
presence, madam? I suppose not, said she. Why, I’ll lay thee a wager,
child, thy stomach’s too full to eat, and so thou may’st fast till thy
mannerly master comes home.
Pray your ladyship, said her woman, let the poor girl sit down at table
with Mrs. Jewkes and me.—Said I, You are very kind, Mrs. Worden; but
times, as you said, are much altered with me; and I have been of late
so much honoured with better company, that I can’t stoop to yours.
Was ever such confidence! said my lady.—Poor Beck! poor Beck! said her
kinsman; why she beats you quite out of the pit!—Will your ladyship,
said I, be so good as to tell me how long I am to tarry? For you’ll
please to see by that letter, that I am obliged to attend my master’s
commands. And so I gave her the dear gentleman’s letter from Mr.
Carlton’s, which I thought would make her use me better, as she might
judge by it of the honour done me by him. Ay, said she, this is my
worthy brother’s hand. It is directed to Mrs. Andrews. That’s to you, I
suppose, child? And so she ran on, making remarks as she went along, in
this manner:
My dearest PAMELA,—‘Mighty well!’—I hope my not coming home this night,
will not frighten you!—‘Vastly tender, indeed!—And did it frighten you,
child?’—You may believe I can’t help it. ‘No, to be sure!—A person in
thy way of life, is more tenderly used than an honest wife. But mark
the end of it!’—I could have wished—‘Pr’ythee, Jackey, mind
this,’—we—‘mind the significant we,’—had not engaged to the good
neighbourhood, at Sir Simon’s, for to-morrow night.—‘Why, does the good
neighbourhood, and does Sir Simon, permit thy visits, child? They shall
have none of mine, then, I’ll assure them!’—But I am so desirous to set
out on Wednesday for the other house—‘So, Jackey, but we just nicked
it, I find:’—that, as well as in return for the civilities of so many
good friends, who will be there on purpose, I would not put it
off.—‘Now mind, Jackey.’—What I beg of you—‘Mind the wretch, that could
use me and your uncle as he has done; he is turned beggar to this
creature!’—I beg of you, therefore, my dear—‘My dear! there’s for
you!—I wish I may not be quite sick before I get through.’—What I beg
of you, therefore, my dear, [and then she looked me full in the face,]
is, that you will go in the chariot to Sir Simon’s, the sooner in the
day the better;—‘Dear heart! and why so, when WE were not expected till
night? Why, pray observe the reason—Hem!’ [said she]—Because you will
be diverted with the company;—‘Mighty kind, indeed!’—who all—‘Jackey,
Jackey, mind this,’—who all so much admire you. ‘Now he’d ha’ been
hanged before he would have said so complaisant a thing, had he been
married, I’m sure!’—Very true, aunt, said he: A plain case
that!—[Thought I, that’s hard upon poor matrimony, though I hope my
lady don’t find it so. But I durst not speak out.]—Who all so much
admire you, [said she,] ‘I must repeat that—Pretty miss!—I wish thou
wast as admirable for thy virtue, as for that baby-face of thine!’—And
I hope to join you there by your tea-time in the afternoon!—‘So, you’re
in very good time, child, an hour or two hence, to answer all your
important pre-engagements!’—which will be better than going home, and
returning with you; as it will be six miles difference to me; and I
know the good company will excuse my dress on this occasion.—‘Very
true; any dress is good enough, I’m sure, for such company as admire
thee, child, for a companion, in thy ruined state!—Jackey, Jackey,
mind, mind, again! more fine things still!’—I count every hour of this
little absence for a day!—‘There’s for you! Let me repeat it’—I count
every hour of this little absence for a day!—‘Mind, too, the wit of the
good man! One may see love is a new thing to him. Here is a very
tedious time gone since he saw his deary; no less than, according to
his amorous calculation, a dozen days and nights, at least! and yet,
TEDIOUS as it is, it is but a LITTLE ABSENCE. Well said, my good,
accurate, and consistent brother!—But wise men in love are always the
greatest simpletons!—But now cones the reason why this LITTLE ABSENCE,
which, at the same time, is SO GREAT an ABSENCE, is so tedious:’—FOR I
am—‘Ay, now for it!’—with the UTMOST sincerity, my dearest love—‘Out
upon DEAREST love! I shall never love the word again! Pray bid your
uncle never call me dearest love, Jackey!’—For ever yours!—‘But,
brother, thou liest!—Thou knowest thou dost.—And so, my good Lady
Andrews, or what shall I call you? Your dearest love will be for ever
yours! And hast thou the vanity to believe this?—But stay, here is a
postscript. The poor man knew not when to have done to his dearest
love.—He’s sadly in for’t, truly! Why, his dearest love, you are mighty
happy in such a lover!’—If you could go to dine with them—‘Cry you
mercy, my dearest love, now comes the pre-engagement!’—it will be a
freedom that will be very pleasing to them, and the more, as they don’t
expect it.
Well, so much for this kind letter! But you see you cannot honour this
admiring company with this little expected, and, but in complaisance to
his folly, I dare say, little desired freedom. And I cannot forbear
admiring you so much myself, my dearest love, that I will not spare you
at all, this whole evening: For ’tis a little hard, if thy master’s
sister may not be blest a little bit with thy charming company.
So I found I had shewn her my letter to very little purpose, and
repented it several times, as she read on.—Well, then, said I, I hope
your ladyship will give me leave to send my excuses to your good
brother, and say, that your ladyship is come, and is so fond of me,
that you will not let me leave you.—Pretty creature, said she; and
wantest thou thy good master to come, and quarrel with his sister on
thy account?—But thou shalt not stir from my presence; and I would now
ask thee, What it is thou meanest by shewing me this letter?—Why,
madam, said I, to shew your ladyship how I was engaged for this day and
evening.—And for nothing else? said she. Why, I can’t tell, madam, said
I: But if you can collect from it any other circumstances, I might hope
I should not be the worse treated.
I saw her eyes began to sparkle with passion: and she took my hand, and
said, grasping it very hard, I know, confident creature, that thou
shewedst it me to insult me!—You shewed it me, to let me see, that he
could be civiller to a beggar born, than to me, or to my good Lord
Davers!—You shewed it me, as if you’d have me to be as credulous a fool
as yourself, to believe your marriage true, when I know the whole trick
of it, and have reason to believe you do too; and you shewed it me, to
upbraid me with his stooping to such painted dirt, to the disgrace of a
family, ancient and untainted beyond most in the kingdom. And now will
I give thee one hundred guineas for one bold word, that I may fell thee
at my foot!
Was not this very dreadful! To be sure, I had better have kept the
letter from her. I was quite frightened!—And this fearful menace, and
her fiery eyes, and rageful countenance, made me lose all my
courage.—So I said, weeping, Good your ladyship, pity me!—Indeed I am
honest; indeed I am virtuous; indeed I would not do a bad thing for the
world!
Though I know, said she, the whole trick of thy pretended marriage, and
thy foolish ring here, and all the rest of the wicked nonsense, yet I
should not have patience with thee, if thou shouldst but offer to let
me know thy vanity prompts thee to believe thou art married to my
brother!—I could not bear the thought!—So take care, Pamela; take care,
beggarly brat; take care.
Good madam, said I, spare my dear parents. They are honest and
industrious: they were once in a very creditable way, and never were
beggars. Misfortunes may attend any body: And I can bear the cruellest
imputations on myself, because I know my innocence; but upon such
honest, industrious parents, who went through the greatest trials,
without being beholden to any thing but God’s blessing, and their own
hard labour; I cannot bear reflection.
What! art thou setting up for a family, creature as thou art! God give
me patience with thee! I suppose my brother’s folly, and his
wickedness, together, will, in a little while, occasion a search at the
heralds’ office, to set out thy wretched obscurity! Provoke me, I
desire thou wilt! One hundred guineas will I give thee, to say but thou
thinkest thou art married to my brother.
Your ladyship, I hope, won’t kill me: And since nothing I can say will
please you, but your ladyship is resolved to quarrel with me; since I
must not say what I think, on one hand nor another; whatever your
ladyship designs by me, be pleased to do, and let me depart your
presence!
She gave me a slap on the hand, and reached to box my ear; but Mrs.
Jewkes hearkening without, and her woman too, they both came in at that
instant; and Mrs. Jewkes said, pushing herself in between us; Your
ladyship knows not what you do! Indeed you don’t! My master would never
forgive me, if I suffered, in his house, one he so dearly loves, to be
so used; and it must not be, though you are Lady Davers. Her woman too
interposed, and told her, I was not worth her ladyship’s anger. But she
was like a person beside herself.
I offered to go out, and Mrs. Jewkes took my hand to lead me out: But
her kinsman set his back against the door, and put his hand to his
sword, and said, I should not go, till his aunt permitted it. He drew
it half-way, and I was so terrified, that I cried out, Oh, the sword!
the sword! and, not knowing what I did, I ran to my lady herself, and
clasped my arms about her, forgetting, just then, how much she was my
enemy, and said, sinking on my knees, Defend me, good your ladyship!
the sword! the sword!—Mrs. Jewkes said, Oh! my lady will fall into
fits! But Lady Davers was herself so startled at the matter being
carried so far, that she did not mind her words, and said, Jackey,
don’t draw your sword!—You see, as great as her spirit is, she can’t
bear that.
Come, said she, be comforted; he shan’t frighten you!—I’ll try to
overcome my anger, and will pity you. So, wench, rise up, and don’t be
foolish. Mrs. Jewkes held her salts to my nose, and I did not faint.
And my lady said, Mrs. Jewkes, if you would be forgiven, leave Pamela
and me by ourselves; and, Jackey, do you withdraw; only you, Beck,
stay.
So I sat down in the window, all in a sad fluster; for, to be sure, I
was sadly frightened.—Said her woman, You should not sit in my lady’s
presence, Mrs. Pamela. Yes, let her sit till she is a little recovered
of her fright, said my lady, and do you set my chair by her. And so she
sat over-against me, and said, To be sure, Pamela, you have been very
provoking with your tongue, to be sure you have, as well upon my
nephew, (who is a man of quality too,) as me. And palliating her cruel
usage, and beginning, I suppose, to think herself she had carried it
further than she could answer it to her brother, she wanted to lay the
fault upon me. Own, said she, you have been very saucy; and beg my
pardon, and beg Jackey’s pardon, and I will try to pity you. For you
are a sweet girl, after all; if you had but held out, and been honest.
’Tis injurious to me, madam, said I, to imagine I am not honest!—Said
she, Have you not been a-bed with my brother? tell me that. Your
ladyship, replied I, asks your questions in a strange way, and in
strange words.
O! your delicacy is wounded, I suppose, by my plain questions!—This
niceness will soon leave you, wench: It will, indeed. But answer me
directly. Then your ladyship’s next question, said I, will be, Am I
married? And you won’t bear my answer to that—and will beat me again.
I han’t beat you yet; have I, Beck? said she. So you want to make out a
story, do you?—But, indeed, I can’t bear thou shouldst so much as think
thou art my sister. I know the whole trick of it; and so, ’tis my
opinion, dost thou. It is only thy little cunning, that it might look
like a cloak to thy yielding, and get better terms from him. Pr’ythee,
pr’ythee, wench, thou seest I know the world a little;—almost as much
at thirty-two, as thou dost at sixteen.—Remember that!
I rose from the window, and walking to the other end of the room, Beat
me again, if you please, said I, but I must tell your ladyship, I scorn
your words, and am as much married as your ladyship!
At that she ran to me; but her woman interposed again: Let the vain
wicked creature go from your presence, madam, said she. She is not
worthy to be in it. She will but vex your ladyship. Stand away, Beck,
said she. That’s an assertion that I would not take from my brother, I
can’t bear it. As much married as I!—Is that to be borne? But if the
creature believes she is, madam, said her woman, she is to be as much
pitied for her credulity, as despised for her vanity.
I was in hopes to have slipt out at the door; but she caught hold of my
gown, and pulled me back. Pray your ladyship, said I, don’t kill me!—I
have done no harm.—But she locked the door, and put the key in her
pocket. So, seeing Mrs. Jewkes before the window, I lifted up the sash,
and said, Mrs. Jewkes, I believe it would be best for the chariot to go
to your master, and let him know, that Lady Davers is here; and I
cannot leave her ladyship.
She was resolved to be displeased, let me say what I would.
Said she, No, no; he’ll then think, that I make the creature my
companion, and know not how to part with her. I thought your ladyship,
replied I, could not have taken exceptions at this message. Thou
knowest nothing, wench, said she, of what belongs to people of
condition: How shouldst thou? Nor, thought I, do I desire it, at this
rate.
What shall I say, madam? said I. Nothing at all, replied she; let him
expect his dearest love, and be disappointed; it is but adding a few
more hours, and he will make every one a day, in his amorous
account.—Mrs. Jewkes coming nearer me, and my lady walking about the
room, being then at the end, I whispered, Let Robert stay at the elms;
I’ll have a struggle for’t by and by.
As much married as I! repeated she.—The insolence of the creature!—And
so she walked about the room, talking to herself, to her woman, and now
and then to me; but seeing I could not please her, I thought I had
better be silent. And then it was, Am I not worthy an answer? If I
speak, said I, your ladyship is angry at me, though ever so
respectfully; if I do not, I cannot please: Would your ladyship tell me
but how I shall oblige you, and I would do it with all my heart.