‘Why, Creature,’ said she, flying into a passion, ‘dost thou think thyself above it? Insolence!’ continued she, ‘this moment, when I bid you, know your duty, and give me a glass of wine; or–’
I took a little spirit then. Thought I, I can but be beaten. ‘If,’ said I, ‘to attend your ladyship at table, or even kneel at your feet, were required of me, as a token of respect to Lady Davers; and not as an insult to her brother, who has done me an honour that requires me to act a part not unworthy of his goodness to me, I would do it. But, as things are, I must say, I cannot.’
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 to be my brother’s wife; would you not?’
‘Your ladyship,’ said I, ‘compels me to say this.’
‘But,’ replied she, ‘dost thou thyself think thou art so?’
‘Silence,’ said her kinsman, ‘gives consent.304 ’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 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, as you have heard, with the sham-marriage, she will be more deserving of your ladyship’s pity than anger.’
‘True, Worden, very true,’ said my lady; ‘but there’s no bearing thé impudence of the creature.’
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, perhaps, have cause to repent it.’ I then 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 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. ‘Tinseled toy!’ said I, (for he was laced305 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 footmen, and not with me.’
I then removed to another window nearer the door, and he looked like the fool he is.
‘Worden, Worden,’ 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 wench?’ And was coming to me. 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 discompose yourself. I am afraid this day’s business will make matters wider than ever between your 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, ‘Madam,’ said she, ‘my master will take it very ill, if you make him wait for you.’
I again arose to go out; but my lady said, ‘If it were only for that reason, she shan’t go.’
She then went to the door. ‘Woman,’ said she, to Mrs Jewkes, shutting her out, ‘come not in again till I call you’; and stepping to me, took my hand, saying, ‘Find your legs, miss, if you please.’
I stood up. She tapped my cheek. ‘How does that glowing face,’ said she, ‘shew thy rancorous heart, if thou daredst to speak out! But come this way.’ And leading 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 the parlour, which looks into the private garden; and her woman said, ‘Mrs Pamela, don’t make my lady angry; stand by her ladyship, as she bids you.’
‘Mrs Worden,’ replied I, ‘do you attend your lady’ s commands, and lay not yours upon me.’
‘Your pardon, sweet Mrs Pamela,’ replied she: ‘times are much altered with you, I assure you.’
‘Lady Davers,’ returned I, ‘has a very good plea to be free in the house she was born in: hut you may as well confine your freedom to the house in which you had your breeding.’
‘Hey-day!’ retorted she. ‘This from you, Mrs Pamela! But since you provoke me, 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 stutter with vexation; and her nephew laughed as if he would burst his sides; ‘G—d— me, Worden,’ said he, ‘you had better let her alone to my lady here; for she will 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 Worden, poor Worden! ‘Fore Gad, she’s quite dumb-foundered !’
‘Well, but, Pamela,’ said my lady, ‘come hither and tell me truly – Dost thou think thyself really married ?’
‘My good lady,’ said I, and approached her chair, ‘I’ll answer all your commands, if you’ll have patience with me: but I cannot bear to be used thus by this gentleman, and your ladyship’s woman.’
‘Child,’ said she, ‘thou art very impertinent to my kinsman; thou canst 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,’ replied 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 an untruth. If I should say, I am, your ladyship will ask me, how I have the impudence to be so; and will call it a sham-marriage.’
‘I will,’ said she, ‘be answered more directly.’
‘Why, madam, what does it signify what I mink? Your ladyship will believe as you please.’
‘But canst 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 (in a violent flutter) ‘I am easy and pleased with my lot, and pray, madam, let me continue to be so, as long as I can.’
‘Pert wench! But I will have patience with thee, if possible. Dost thou not think I am concerned, that thou, a young creature, whom my mother loved so well, shouldst have cast thyself away, shouldst have suffered thyself to be deluded and undone, after such a noble stand that thou madest for so long a time?’
‘I do not think myself deluded and undone, madam; and am as innocent and as virtuous as ever I was in my life.’
‘Thou liest, child,’ said she.
‘So your ladyship told me twice before!’
She gave my hand a slap for this; and I made a low curtsey; and retiring, said, ‘I humbly thank your ladyship!’ But I could not refrain tears; and added, ‘Your 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 thinkest thou hast not made mischief enough alr
eady between a sister and brother. But, child, if he were 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 a little further off) ‘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 take 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 be unworthy of 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 mannerly306 master comes home.’
‘Pray your ladyship,’ said her woman, ‘let the poor girl sit down at table with Mrs Jewkes and me.’
‘You are very kind, Mrs Worden,’ replied I; ‘but times, as you said, are much altered with me. I have been of late so much honoured by better company, that I can’t stoop to your’s.’
‘Was ever such confidence!’ said my lady.
‘Poor Worden! poor Worden!’ said her kinsman; ‘why, she beats you quite out of the pit! ’307
‘Will your ladyship,’ said I, ‘be so good as to tell me how long I am to stay? For you will please to see by that letter, that I am obliged to attend my master’s commands.’ And so I gave her her brother’s letter, written 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! Thy name will be always Andrews for him, I am sure!’ And so she read on, making remarks as she went along, in this manner:
‘“My dearest love,” [DEAREST LOVE!’ looking at me, from head to foot. ‘What! this to dry baby-face! – DEAREST LOVE. – Out upon it! I shall never bear to hear those words again! Pray, Jackey, bid Lord Davers never call me dearest love.] “as I desired you not to expect me, if I returned not by eleven last night, I hope” [Lord be good unto me! Mind Jackey! – I HOPE] “my absence did not discompose you” [Who can bear this! A confession, Jackey! a plain confession!’ ‘And so it is, madam! As clear to me as the sun!’ looking at me till he dashed me. And then laughing with such an impudent look. I hated him at the moment. ‘Well, but did it discompose his dearest love!’ said my lady. ‘Wert thou discomposed, dearest love? Vastly tender! A creature, in thy way of life, is more complaisantly treated than an honest wife: but mark the end of it!’]
[She read to herself, till she came to the following words] ‘“I could have wished” [Pr’ythee, Jackey, mind this, “I could have wished”] “WE had not engaged ourselves” [WE and OURSELVES -MY brother and THEE, reptile, put together! Give me patience!] “to Sir Simon and the good neighbourhood for this night.” [And does Sir Simon, and the good neighbourhood, permit thy visits, child? They shall have none from me, I assure them.] “But since the engagement must take place,” [Mind, mind, Jackey] “let me beg of you,” [The wretch who could treat Lord Davers and me as he has done, to turn beggar to this creature! “Let me beg of you”] “my dear,” [My dear! I shall be sick before I get half through! Thou little witch! How hast thou brought this about? But I will read on.] “to take the chariot,” [And is the chariot ready? Thank Heaven, I am in time to save thee this presumption!] “and go to Sir Simon’s; the sooner in the day the more obliging” [Say you so, brother? And can thy company, creature, oblige Sir Simon and the good neighbourhood?] “to all your ad-” [O Jackey, Jackey – sick – sick to death!] “miring friends!” ‘[And away went the letter at my head. I would have stooped for it; but her Worden was too nimble for me, and put the letter again into her lady’s hands; who went on with her remarks.] ‘“I hope to join you there” [Join you - Who? Pamela Andrews! A beggar’s brat! Taken by my mother.’ ‘On charity, madam!’ said I. ‘I curtsey to the dear lady’s memory for it. I can best bear this of all your ladyship’s reflections. It is my glory!’ ‘Confidence! be silent. Dost thou glory in thy shame! ‘Thank God, thought I, I have a truer glory! And I was silent, proudly silent, my dear mother. ‘“I hope to join you there,” proceeded she in reading] “ by your tea-time in the afternoon.” [So you are in very good time, child, an hour or two hence, to answer all your important pre-engagements. Now, Jackey, he would have been hanged before he would have wrote so complaisantly to a WIFE. NO admiring friends would he have mentioned to a woman of birth and quality answerable to his own, after the first fortnight. Very evident to me how the case is. Is it not so to you, Jackey? To you, Worden?’ ‘Very true, madam,’ said her woman. ‘Clear as the sun,’ said her nephew, sneering in my glowing face. ‘Uncivil gentleman!’ I muttered to myself: but still I was proud of my innocence; and I could the better be silent. My lady read on.] ‘“It will be six miles difference to me.” [Ah, wretched Pamela! Seest thou not that thy influence is already in the wane? Hadst thou kept thine innocence, and thy lover had been of thine own rank, sixty miles would have been no more than one to him. Thinkest thou that my brother’s heart is to be held fast by that baby-face of thine? Poor wretch! How I pity thee!’ I curtsied to her for her pity; but still in proud (because self-justified) silence. She read on.] ‘“And I know the good company will excuse dress on the occasion.” [Excuse dress! No doubt but they will. Any dress is good enough, I am sure, to appear in, to such company as admire thee, creature, for a companion, in thy ruined state! But, Jackey, Jackey! More fine things still!] “I count every hour of this little absence for a day!” [There’s for you! Let me repeat it: “! count every hour of this little absence for a day!” Mind too the nonsense 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 dear; 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 comes 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 it! DEAREST LOVE, again!] “For ever yours!” [But, brother, thou liest! Thou know’st thou dost. And, so, my good Miss 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,’ looking at me, ‘you are mighty happy in such a lover!] “If you could dine with Sir Simon and the ladies” [Cry your mercy, my dearest love, now comes the pre-engagement!] “it would be a freedom” [A freedom with a witness!] “they would be delighted with.” [Wretched flatterers, and mean-spirited creatures, if they are.] “ And the more, as they expect not such a favour.” [Favour! Jackey! Favour! O thou poor painted doll! But I will have patience, if possible! Thy company will indeed be a favour to those who can be delighted with it.]308
‘Well, so much for this kind letter! Worden, you may go to dinner with Fat-face!’
Her woman retired. ‘But you see, miss,’ proceeded my lady to me, ‘you cannot honour this admiring company with this little-expected, and, but in complaisance to his folly, I dare say, little-desired freedom. And indeed I cannot forbear admiring thee so much myself, my dearest love, that I will not spare thee at all, this whole evening.’
You see that I had shewn her my letter to very little purpose. Indeed, I repented my giving it into her hands several times as she read.
‘Well then,’ said I, ‘I hope your ladys
hip will give me leave to send my excuses to your good brother, and let him know that your ladyship is come, and is so fond of me, that you will not let me leave you.’
‘Insolent creature!’ said she; ‘and wantest thou my good brother, as thou callest him, 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 meantest by shewing me this letter?’
‘To shew your ladyship,’ replied I, ‘how I was engaged for this day and evening.’
‘And for nothing else ? ‘asked she.
‘If your ladyship can collect from it any other circumstances, I might hope not to be the worse treated for them.’
Her eyes sparkled with indignation. She took my hand, and said, grasping it very hard, ‘I know, confident creature, that you shewed 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 would have me be as credulous a fool as yourself, to believe you are married, when I know the whole trick of it, and have reason to believe you know it. You shewed it me, in short, to upbraid me with his stooping to such painted dirt, to the disgrace of a family, ancient and unsullied beyond most in the kingdom. And now will I give thee an hundred guineas for one bold word, that I may fell thee at my foot.’
This fearful menace, and her fiery eyes, and rageful countenance, made me lose all my courage.
I wept. ‘Good your ladyship,’ said I, ‘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, 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! So take care, Pamela; take care, beggar’s brat; take care.’
‘Spare, madam, I beseech you, my parents. They are honest: they are good: it is no crime to be poor. They were once in a very creditable way: they never were beggars. Misfortunes may attend the highest. I can bear the cruellest imputations on myself; but upon such honest, industrious parents, who have passed through the greatest trials, without being beholden to any thing but God’s blessing, and their own hard labour; I cannot bear reflection.’