which are chiefly those of my poor unhappy brothers, and get an account
of all you are bound for; and every one shall be paid to the utmost
farthing, and interest besides, though some of them have been very
cruel and unrelenting.—But they are entitled to their own, and shall be
thankfully paid.
Now I think of it, John shall take my papers down to this place; that
you may have something to amuse you, of your dear child’s, instead of
those you part with; and I will continue writing till I am settled, and
you are determined; and then I shall apply myself to the duties of the
family, in order to become as useful to my dear benefactor, as my small
abilities will let me.
If you think a couple of guineas will be of use to Mrs. Mumford, who, I
doubt, has not much aforehand, pray give them to her, from me, (and I
will return them to you,) as for a pair of gloves on my nuptials: And
look through your poor acquaintances and neighbours, and let me have a
list of such honest industrious poor, as may be true objects of
charity, and have no other assistance; particularly such as are blind,
lame, or sickly, with their several cases; and also such poor families
and housekeepers as are reduced by misfortunes, as ours was, and where
a great number of children may keep them from rising to a state of
tolerable comfort: And I will choose as well as I can; for I long to be
making a beginning, with the kind quarterly benevolence my dear good
benefactor has bestowed upon me for such good purposes.
I am resolved to keep account of all these matters, and Mr. Longman has
already furnished me with a vellum book of white paper; some sides of
which I hope soon to fill with the names of proper objects: And though
my dear master has given me all this without account, yet shall he see
(but nobody else) how I lay it out, from quarter to quarter; and I
will, if any be left, carry it on, like an accomptant, to the next
quarter, and strike a balance four times a year, and a general balance
at every year’s end.—And I have written in it, Humble RETURNS for
DIVINE MERCIES; and locked it up safe in my newly-presented cabinet.
I intend to let Lady Davers see no farther of my papers, than to her
own angry letter to her brother; for I would not have her see my
reflections upon it; and she’ll know, down to that place, all that’s
necessary for her curiosity, as to my sufferings, and the stratagems
used against me, and the honest part I have been enabled to act: And I
hope, when she has read them all, she will be quite reconciled: for she
will see it is all God Almighty’s doings; and that a gentleman of his
parts and knowledge was not to be drawn in by such a poor young body as
me.
I will detain John no longer. He will tell you to read this last part
first, and while he stays. And so, with my humble duty to you both, and
my dear Mr. B——’s kind remembrance, I rest
Your ever-dutiful and gratefully happy DAUGHTER.
Wednesday evening.
HONOURED FATHER AND MOTHER!
I will now proceed with my journal.
On Tuesday morning, my dear sir rode out, and brought with him to
dinner, Mr. Martin of the Grove, and Mr. Arthur, and Mr. Brooks, and
one Mr. Chambers; and he stept up to me, and said he had rode out too
far to return to breakfast; but he had brought with him some of his old
acquaintance, to dine with me. Are you sorry for it, Pamela? said he. I
remembered his lessons, and said No, sure, sir; I cannot be angry at
any thing you are pleased to do. Said he, You know Mr. Martin’s
character, and have severely censured him in one of your letters, as
one of my brother rakes, and for his three lyings-in.
He then gave me the following account, how he came to bring them. Said
he, ‘I met them all at Mr. Arthur’s; and his lady asked me, if I was
really married? I said, Yes, really. And to whom? said Mr. Martin. Why,
replied I, bluntly, to my mother’s waiting-maid. They could not tell
what to say to me hereupon, and looked one upon another. And I saw I
had spoiled a jest, from each. Mrs. Arthur said, You have, indeed, sir,
a charming creature, as ever I saw; and she has mighty good luck. Ay,
said I, and so have I. But I shall say the less, because a man never
did any thing of this nature, that he did not think he ought, if it
were but in policy, to make the best of it. Nay, said Mr. Arthur, if
you have sinned, it is with your eyes open: for you know the world as
well as any gentleman of your years in it.’
‘Why, really, gentlemen, said I, I should be glad to please all my
friends; but I can’t expect, till they know my motives and inducements,
that it will be so immediately. But I do assure you, I am exceedingly
pleased myself; and that, you know, is most to the purpose.’
‘Said Mr. Brooks, I have heard my wife praise your spouse that is, so
much for person and beauty, that I wanted to see her of all things.
Why, replied I, if you’ll all go and take a dinner with me, you shall
see her with all my heart. And, Mrs. Arthur, will you bear us company?
No, indeed, sir, said she. What, I’ll warrant, my wife will not be able
to reconcile you to my mother’s waiting-maid; is not that it? Tell
truth, Mrs. Arthur. Nay, said she, I shan’t be backward to pay your
spouse a visit, in company of the neighbouring ladies; but for one
single woman to go, on such a sudden motion too, with so many
gentlemen, is not right. But that need not hinder you, gentlemen. So,
said he, the rest sent, that they should not dine at home; and they and
Mr. Chambers, a gentleman lately settled in these parts, one and all
came with me: And so, my dear, concluded he, when you make your
appearance next Sunday, you’re sure of a party in your favour; for all
that see you must esteem you.’
He went to them; and when I came down to dinner, he was pleased to take
me by the hand, at my entrance into the parlour, and said, My dear, I
have brought some of my good neighbours to dine with you. I said, You
are very good, sir.—My dear, this gentleman is Mr. Chambers; and so he
presented every one to me; and they saluted me, and wished us both joy.
I, for my part, said Mr. Brooks, wish you joy most heartily. My wife
told me a good deal of the beauties of your person; but I did not think
we had such a flower in our country. Sir, said I, your lady is very
partial to me; and you are so polite a gentleman, that you will not
contradict your good lady.
I’ll assure you, madam, returned he, you have not hit the matter at
all; for we contradict one another twice or thrice a day. But the
devil’s in’t if we are not agreed in so clear a case!
Said Mr. Martin, Mr. Brooks says very true, madam, in both respects;
(meaning his wife’s and his own contradiction to one another, as well
as in my favour;) for, added he, they have been married some years.
As I had not the best opinion of this gentleman, nor his jest, I said,
I am almost sorry, sir, for the gentleman’s jest upon himself and his
lady; but I think it should have relieved him from a greater jest, your
pleasant confirmation of it.—But still the reason you give that it may
be so, I hope, is the reason that may be given that it is not so; to
wit, that they have been married some years.
Said Mr. Arthur, Mr. Martin, I think the lady has very handsomely
reproved you. I think so too, said Mr. Chambers; and it was but a very
indifferent compliment to a bride. Said Mr. Martin, Compliment or not,
gentlemen, I have never seen a matrimony of any time standing, that it
was not so, little or much: But I dare say it will never be so here.
To be sure, sir, said I, if it was, I must be the ungratefullest person
in the world, because I am the most obliged person in it. That notion,
said Mr. Arthur, is so excellent, that it gives a moral certainty it
never can.
Sir, said Mr. Brooks to my dear master, softly, You have a most
accomplished lady, I do assure you, as well in her behaviour and wit,
as in her person, call her what you please. Why, my dear friend, said
my master, I must tell you, as I have said before now, that her person
made me her lover, but her mind made her my wife.
The first course coming in, my dear sir led me himself to my place; and
set Mr. Chambers, as the greatest stranger, at my right hand, and Mr.
Brooks at my left; and Mr. Arthur was pleased to observe, much to my
advantage, on the ease and freedom with which I behaved myself, and
helped them; and said, he would bring his lady to be a witness, and a
learner both, of my manners. I said, I should be proud of any honour
Mrs. Arthur would vouchsafe to do me; and if once I could promise
myself the opportunity of his good lady’s example, and those of the
other gentlemen present, I should have the greater opinion of my
worthiness to sit in the place I filled at present with much
insufficiency.
Mr. Arthur drank to my health and happiness, and said, My wife told
your spouse, madam, you had very good luck in such a husband; but I now
see who has the best of it. Said Mr. Brooks, Come, come, let’s make no
compliments; for the plain truth of the matter is, our good neighbour’s
generosity and judgment have met with so equal a match in his lady’s
beauty and merit, that I know not which has the best luck. But may you
be both long happy together, say I! And so he drank a glass of wine.
My best friend, who always takes delight to have me praised, seemed
much pleased with our conversation; and he said the kindest, tenderest,
and most respectful things in the world to me. Insomuch, that the rough
Mr. Martin said, Did you ever think our good friend here, who used to
ridicule matrimony so much, would have made so complaisant a husband?
How long do you intend, sir, that this shall hold? As long as my good
girl deserves it, said he; and that, I hope, will be for ever. But,
continued the kind gentleman, you need not wonder I have changed my
mind as to wedlock; for I never expected to meet with one whose
behaviour and sweetness of temper were so well adapted to make me
happy.
After dinner, and having drank good healths to each of their ladies, I
withdrew; and they sat and drank two bottles of claret a-piece, and
were very merry; and went away, full of my praises, and vowing to bring
their ladies to see me.
John having brought me your kind letter, my dear father, I told my good
master, after his friends were gone, how gratefully you received his
generous intentions as to the Kentish farm, and promised your best
endeavours to serve him in that estate; and that you hoped your
industry and care would be so well employed in it, that you should be
very little troublesome to him,—as to the liberal manner in which he
had intended to add to a provision, that of itself exceeded all you
wished. He was very well pleased with your cheerful acceptance of it.
I am glad your engagements in the world lie in so small a compass. As
soon as you have gotten an account of them exactly, you will be pleased
to send it me, with the list of the poor folks you are so kind to
promise to procure me.
I think, as my dear master is so generous, you should account nothing
that is plain, too good. Pray don’t be afraid of laying out upon
yourselves. My dear sir intends that you shall not, when you come to
us, return to your old abode; but stay with us, till you set out for
Kent; and so you must dispose of yourselves accordingly. And I hope, my
dear father, you have quite left off all slavish business. As farmer
Jones has been kind to you, as I have heard you say, pray, when you
take leave of them, present them with three guineas worth of good
books; such as a family bible, a common prayer, a whole duty of man, or
any other you think will be acceptable; for they live a great way from
church; and in winter the ways from their farm thither are impassable.
He has brought me my papers safe: and I will send them to Lady Davers
the first opportunity, down to the place I mentioned in my last.
My dear Mr. B—— just now tells me, that he will carry me, in the
morning, a little airing, about ten miles off, in his chariot and four,
to breakfast at a farm-house, noted for a fine dairy, and where, now
and then, the neighbouring gentry, of both sexes, resort for that
purpose.
Thursday.
We set out at about half an hour after six, accordingly; and driving
pretty smartly, got at this truly neat house at half an hour after
eight; and I was much pleased with the neatness of the good woman, and
her daughter and maid; and he was so good as to say he would now and
then take a turn with me to the same place, and on the same occasion,
as I seemed to like it; for that it would be a pretty exercise, and
procure us appetites to our breakfasts, as well as our return would to
our dinners. But I find this was not, though a very good reason, the
only one for which he gave me this agreeable airing; as I shall
acquaint you.
We were prettily received and entertained here, and an elegancy ran
through every thing, persons as well as furniture, yet all plain. And
my master said to the good housewife, Do your young boarding-school
ladies still at times continue their visits to you, Mrs. Dobson? Yes,
sir, said she, I expect three or four of them every minute.
There is, my dear, said he, within three miles of this farm, a very
good boarding-school for ladies. The governess of it keeps a chaise and
pair, which is to be made a double chaise at pleasure; and in summer
time, when the misses perform their tasks to satisfaction, she favours
them with an airing to this place, three or four at a time; and after
they have breakfasted, they are carried back. And this serves both for
a reward, and for exercise; and the misses who have this favour are not
a little proud of it; and it brings them forward in their respective
tasks.
A very good method, sir, said I. And just as we were talking, the
chaise came in with four misses, all pretty much of a size, and a
maid-servant to attend them. They were shewn another little neat
apartment, that went through ours; and made their honours very
prettily, as they passed by us. I went into the room to them, and asked
them questions about their work, and their lessons; and what they had
done to deserve such a fine airing and breakfasting; and they all
answered me very prettily. And pray, little ladies, said I, what may I
call your names? One was called Miss Burdoff, one Miss Nugent, one Miss
Booth, and the fourth Miss Goodwin. I don’t know which, said I, is the
prettiest; but you are all best, my little dears; and you have a very
good governess, to indulge you with such a fine airing, and such
delicate cream, and bread and butter. I hope you think so too.
My master came in, and I had no mistrust in the world; and he kissed
each of them; but looked more wishfully on Miss Goodwin, than on any of
the others; but I thought nothing just then: Had she been called Miss
Godfrey, I had hit upon it in a trice.
When we went from them, he said, Which do you think the prettiest of
those misses? Really, sir, replied I, it is hard to say: Miss Booth is
a pretty brown girl, and has a fine eye; Miss Burdoff has a great deal
of sweetness in her countenance, but is not so regularly featured. Miss
Nugent is very fair: and Miss Goodwin has a fine black eye, and is,
besides, I think, the genteelest shaped child; but they are all pretty.
The maid led them into the garden, to shew them the beehives; and Miss
Goodwin made a particular fine courtesy to my master; and I said, I
believe miss knows you, sir; and, taking her by the hand, I said, Do
you know this gentleman, my pretty dear?—Yes, madam, said she; it is my
own dear uncle. I clasped her in my arms: O why did you not tell me,
sir, said I, that you had a niece among these little ladies? And I
kissed her, and away she tript after the others.
But pray, sir, said I, how can this be?—You have no sister nor brother,
but Lady Davers.—How can this be?
He smiled: and then I said, O my dearest sir, tell me now the truth,
Does not this pretty miss stand in a nearer relation to you, than as a
niece?—I know she does! I know she does! And I embraced him as he
stood.
’Tis even so, my dear, replied he; and you remember my sister’s
good-natured hint of Miss Sally Godfrey? I do well, sir, answered I.
But this is Miss Goodwin. Her mother chose that name for her, said he,
because she should not be called by her own.
Well, said I, excuse me, sir; I must go and have a little prattle with
her. I’ll send for her in again, replied he; and in she came in a
moment. I took her in my arms, and said, O my charming dear! will you
love me?—Will you let me be your aunt? Yes, madam, answered she, with
all my heart! and I will love you dearly: But I mustn’t love my uncle.
Why so? said he. Because, replied she, you would not speak to me at
first! And because you would not let me call you uncle (for it seems
she was bid not, that I might not guess at her presently): and yet,
said the pretty dear, I had not seen you a great while, so I hadn’t.
Well, Pamela, said he, now can you allow me to love this little
innocent? Allow you, sir, replied I; you would be very barbarous, if
you did not; and I should be more so, if I did not further it all I
could, and love the little lamb myself, for your sake and for her own
sake; and in compassion to her poor mother, though unknown to me: And
tears stood in my eyes.
Said he, Why, my love, are your words so kind, and your countenance so
sad?—I drew to the window from the child; and said, Sad it is not, sir;
but I have a strange grief and pleasure mingled at once in my breast,
on this occasion. It is indeed a twofold grief, and a twofold
pleasure.—As how, my dear? said he. Why, sir, replied I, I cannot help
being grieved for the poor mother of this sweet babe, to think, if she
be living, that she must call her chiefest delight her shame: If she be
no more, that she must have had such remorse on her poor mind, when she
came to leave the world, and her little babe: And, in the second place,
I grieve, that it must be thought a kindness to the dear little soul,
not to let her know how near the dearest relation she has in the world
is to her.—Forgive me, dear sir, I say not this to reproach you, in the
least. Indeed I don’t. And I have a twofold cause of joy; first, That I
have had the grace to escape the like unhappiness with this poor
gentlewoman: and next, That this discovery has given me an opportunity
to shew the sincerity of my grateful affection for you, sir, in the
love I will always express to this dear child.
And then I stept to her again, and kissed her; and said, Join with me,
my pretty love, to beg your dear uncle to let you come and live with
your new aunt: Indeed, my little precious, I’ll love you dearly.
Will you, sir? said the little charmer; will you let me go and live
with my aunt?
You are very good, my Pamela, said he. And I have not once been
deceived in the hopes my fond heart has entertained of your
prudence.—But will you, sir? said I; will you grant me this favour? I
shall most sincerely love the little charmer; and all I am capable of
doing for her, both by example and affection, shall most cordially be
done. My dearest sir, added I, oblige me in this thing! I think already
my heart is set upon it! What a sweet employment and companionship
shall I have!
We’ll talk of this some other time, replied he; but I must, in
prudence, put some bounds to your amiable generosity. I had always
intended to surprise you into this discovery; but my sister led the way
to it, out of a poorness in her spite, that I could not brook: And
though you have pleased me beyond expression, in your behaviour on this
occasion; yet I can’t say, that you have gone much beyond my
expectations; for I have such a high opinion of you, that I think
nothing could have shaken it, but a contrary conduct to this you have
expressed on so tender a circumstance.
Well, sir, said the dear little miss, then you will not let me go home
with my aunt, will you? I am sure she will love me. When you break up
next, my dear, said he, if you are a good girl, you shall pay your new
aunt a visit. She made a low courtesy. Thank you, sir, answered she.
Yes, my dear, said I, and I will get you some fine things against the
time. I would have brought you some now, had I known I should have seen
my pretty love. Thank you, madam, returned she.
How old, sir, said I, is miss? Between six and seven, answered he. Was
she ever, sir, said I, at your house? My sister, replied he, carried
her thither once, as a near relation of her lord’s. I remember, sir,
said I, a little miss; and Mrs. Jervis and I took her to be a relation
of Lord Davers.
My sister, returned he, knew the whole secret from the beginning; and
it made her a great merit with me, that she kept it from the knowledge
of my father, who was then living, and of my mother, to her dying-day;
though she descended so low in her rage, to hint the matter to you.
The little misses took their leaves soon after: and I know not how, but
I am strangely affected with this dear child. I wish he would be so
good as to let me have her home. It would be a great pleasure to have
such a fine opportunity, obliged as I am, to shew my love for himself,
in my fondness for his dear miss.
As we came home together in the chariot, he gave me the following
particulars of this affair, additional to what he had before mentioned:
That this lady was of a good family, and the flower of it but that her
mother was a person of great art and address, and not altogether so
nice in the particular between himself and miss, as she ought to have
been: That, particularly, when she had reason to find him unsettled and
wild, and her daughter in more danger from him, than he was from her,
yet she encouraged their privacies; and even, at last, when she had
reason to apprehend, from their being surprised together, in a way not
so creditable to the lady, that she was far from forbidding their
private meetings; on the contrary, that, on a certain time, she had set
one that had formerly been her footman, and a half-pay officer, her
relation, to watch an opportunity, and to frighten him into a marriage
with the lady: That, accordingly, when they had surprised him in her
chamber, just as he had been let in, they drew their swords upon him,
and threatened instantly to kill him, if he did not promise marriage on
the spot; and that they had a parson ready below stairs, as he found
afterwards: That then he suspected, from some strong circumstances,
that miss was in the plot; which so enraged him, with their menaces
together, that he drew, and stood upon his defence; and was so much in
earnest, that the man he pushed into the arm, and disabled; and
pressing pretty forward upon the other, as he retreated, he rushed in
upon him near the top of the stairs, and pushed him down one pair, and
he was much hurt by the fall: Not but that, he said, he might have paid
for his rashness; but that the business of his antagonists was rather
to frighten than to kill him: That, upon this, in the sight of the old
lady, the parson she had provided, and her other daughters, he went out
of their house, with bitter execrations against them all.