She clasped me to her bosom, and called me dear pretty creature, and said it was no wonder that my master could not help loving me. And that, if I stayed, she hoped the best; since many a man had been ashamed of his wicked attempts upon a repulse, who never would have been ashamed had he succeeded.
‘Ill trusting, my dear Mrs Jervis,’ said I, ‘to the honour of a man who has no virtue; and who has shewn himself as he has shewn himself. I think,’ said I, (and I hope I should have grace to act accordingly) ‘that I should not give way to his temptations on any account; but it would be very presumptuous in me to rely upon my own strength, against a man of his qualifications and estate, and who is my master; and thinks himself intitled to call me bold-face, and what not? only for resisting his vile attempts: and that, too, where the good of my soul and body is concerned. How then, Mrs Jervis,’ said I, ‘can I ask, or wish to stay?’
‘Well, well,’ says she, ‘as he seems in earnest that you shall not, I hope it is from a good motive; for fear he should be tempted to disgrace himself as well as you.’ ‘I have thought of that too, Mrs Jervis,’ said I, ‘for I would be glad to think of him with that duty that becomes me: But if he had meant me well, he would have let me go to Lady Davers, and not have hindered my preferment. And he would not have said, I should return to my low condition, when by his mother’s goodness I had been taken out of it; but that he intended to fright me, and punish me, as he thought, for not complying with his wickedness: and this shews me well enough what I have to expect from his future goodness, except I will deserve it at his own dear, dear price.’
She was silent, and I added, ‘Well, there’s no more to be said; I must go, that’s certain: My chief concern will be how to part with you; and indeed with every body; loved me, and you and they will cost me a sigh and a tear too, now-and-then, I am sure.’
And so I fell a crying: I could not help it. For it is a pleasant thing to be in a house among a great many fellow-servants, and to be beloved by them all.
Nay, I should have told you before now, how kind and civil Mr Longman, our steward, is. Vastly courteous, indeed, on all occasions! And he said once to Mrs Jervis, he wished he was a young man for my sake; I should be his wife, and he would settle all he had upon me, on marriage; and, you must know, he is reckoned worth a power of money.
I take no pride in this; but bless God, and you, my dear parents, for your good lessons, that I have been enabled so to carry myself, as to have every body’s good word: Not but that our cook one day, who is a little snappish and cross some times, said once to me, ‘Why this Pamela of ours goes as fine as a lady. See what it is to have a fine face! I wonder what the girl will come to at last.’
She was warm with her work; and I stole away; for I seldom go down into the kitchen; and I heard the butler say, ‘Why, Jane, nobody has your good word: what has Mrs Pamela30 done to you? I am sure she offends nobody.’ ‘And what,’ said the foolish wench, ‘have I said to her, foolatum;31 but that she was pretty?’
They quarrelled afterwards, I heard: I was sorry for it, but troubled myself no more about it. Forgive this silly prattle, from
Your dutiful Daughter.
Mrs Jervis is very desirous that I should stay to finish the waistcoat. She believes my master will make me an honest present, as I may say, when it is done. Good gentlewoman! she is loth to part with me. She says, she will be my watchful guardian till it is done; though she hopes there will be no occasion for her care.32 I never, I must say, did a prettier piece of work; and I am up early and late to get it done; for I long to come to you.
LETTER XX
I did not, my dear father and mother, send my last letters so soon as I hoped, because John (whether my master mistrusts or no, I can’t say) had been sent to Lady Davers’s, instead of Isaac, who used to go thither; and I could not be so free with, nor so well trust Isaac; though he is very civil to me too. So I was forced to stay till John returned.
As I may not have opportunity to send again soon, and yet as I know you keep my letters, and read them over and over, (so John told me) when you have done work, (so much does your kindness make you love all that comes from your poor daughter) and as it may be some little pleasure to me, perhaps, to read them myself, when I am come to you, to remind me what I have gone through, and how great God’s goodness has been to me (which, I hope, will further strengthen my good resolutions, that I may not hereafter, from my bad conduct, have reason to condemn myself from my own hand, as it were): For all these reasons, I say, I will write as I have time, and as matters happen, and send the scribble to you as I have opportunity; and if I do not every time in form, subscribe as I ought, I am sure you will always believe, that it is not for want of duty. So I will begin where I left off, about the talk between Mrs Jervis and me, on her wishing me to ask to stay.
Unknown to Mrs Jervis, I put a project, as I may call it, in practice. I thought with myself some days ago – Here I shall go home to my poor father and mother, and have nothing on my back that will be fit for my condition; for how should your poor daughter look with a silk night-gown, silken petticoats,33 cambrick head clothes, fine Holland linen, laced34 shoes, that were my lady’s! And how in a little while must these have looked, like old cast offs indeed, and I looked upon as such for wearing them! And people would have said, (for poor folks are envious as well as rich) ‘see there Goody Andrews’s daughter turned home from her fine place! What a tawdry figure she makes! And how well that garb becomes her poor parents circumstances! ‘And how should I look, thought I, even if I could purchase home-spun clothes, to dwindle into them one by one, as I got them? May-be, an old silk gown, and a linsey-woolsey35 petticoat, and the like. So, thought I, I had better get myself at once equipped in the dress that will become my condition; and though it may look poor to what I have been used to wear of late days, yet it will serve me, when I am with you, for a good holiday and Sunday suit, and what, by a blessing on my industry, I may, perhaps, make shift to keep up to.
So, as I was saying, unknown to any body, I bought of Farmer Nichols’s wife and daughters, a good sad-coloured36 stuff, of their own spinning, enough to make me a gown and two petticoats; and I made robings and faceings37 of a pretty bit of printed callico I had by me.
I had a pretty good camblet quilted coat,38 that I thought might do tolerably well; and I bought two flannel under-coats; not so good as my swan-skin39 and fine linen ones, but what will keep me warm, if any neighbour should get me to go out to help ‘em to milk, now-and-then, as sometimes I used to do formerly; for I am resolved to do all your neighbours what kindness I can; and I hope to make myself as much beloved about you, as I am here.
I got some pretty good Scots cloth,40 and made me, at mornings and nights, when nobody saw me, two shifts; and I have enough left for two shirts, and two shifts, for you, my dear father and mother. When I come home, I’ll make ‘em up, and desire your acceptance of them.
Then I bought of a pedlar, two pretty-enough round-eared caps,41 a little straw hat, and a pair of knit mittens, turned up with white callico; and two pair of ordinary blue worsted hose, that make a smartish appearance, with white clocks,42 I’ll assure you! and two yards of black riband for my shift-sleeves, and to serve as a necklace; and when I had ’em all come home, I went and looked upon them once in two hours, for two days together: for you must know, though I lie with Mrs Jervis, I keep my own little apartment still for my clothes; and nobody goes thither but myself. You’ll say, I was no bad housewife to have saved so much money; but my dear good lady was always giving me something.
I believed myself the more obliged to do this, because, as I was turned away for what my good master thought want of duty; and as he expected other returns for his presents, than I intended to make him, so I thought it was but just to leave his presents behind me, when I went away.
Don’t trouble yourself about the four guineas, nor borrow to make them up; for they were given me, with some silver, as I told you, as a perquisite,43 being what my lady had about her when sh
e died; and, as I hope for no wages, I am so vain as to think I have deserved all that money in the fourteen months since my lady’s death: for she, good soul! overpaid me before, in learning and other kindnesses. Had she lived, none of these things might have happened! But I ought to be thankful ’tis no worse. Every thing will turn out for the best; that’s my confidence.
So, as I was saying, I have provided a new and more suitable dress, and I long to appear in it, more than ever I did in any new clothes in my life; for then I shall be soon after with you, and at ease in my mind. But I am forced to break off. – Here comes Mrs Jervis.44
LETTER XXI
Now I will tell you what passed between Mrs Jervis and me. She hoped, she said, seeing me in a little hurry, on her coming in, that she was not unwelcome. She could not endure that I should be so much by myself.
‘I always,’ said I, ‘rejoice to see my dear Mrs Jervis.’
‘I have had,’ said she, ‘a world of talk with my master about you.’ ‘I am sorry,’ said I, ‘that I am made of so much consequence as to be talked of by him.’ ‘O,’ replied she, ‘I must not tell you all; but you are of more consequence to him than you think for–’
‘Or wish for,’ said I; ‘for the fruits of being of consequence to him, might be to make me of none to myself, or any body else.
‘But I suppose,’ proceeded I, ‘that I am of so much consequence to him as to vex him, if it be but to think, he can’t make a fool of such a one as I; and that is a rebuke to the pride of his high condition, which he did not expect, and knows not how to put up with.’
‘There may be something in that,’ said she; ‘but indeed, Pamela, he is very angry with you too; and calls you perverse; wonders at his own folly for having taken so much notice of you. He was willing to shew you the more favour, he says, because of his mother’s love for you, and recommendation; and he had thoughts of continuing it to you for your own sake, could you have known how to comport yourself as you ought to do. But he saw that too much notice–’
‘Too much notice, indeed, Mrs Jervis,’ said I. ‘Do you think I should ever have forgot my duty as a servant, if he had not forgot his as a master?’
‘He says you shall go,’ replied she; ‘for he thinks it won’t be for his reputation to keep you: but he wished (don’t speak of it for the world, Pamela) that he knew a lady of birth, just such another as yourself, and he would marry her to-morrow.’
I coloured as red as the very scarlet, I believe; but said, ‘Yet if I were the lady of birth, and he would offer to be rude first, as he has twice done to me, I don’t know whether I would have him: for she that can bear an insult of that kind, I should think not worthy to be a gentleman’s wife; any more than I should look upon him as a gentleman, that could offer it. But, dear Mrs Jervis,’ added I, very seriously, ‘let me say, that I am now more full of fears than ever. Never, for the future, I beseech you, think of putting me upon asking to stay. To tell me that my master likes me, when I know what end he aims at, is abomination to my ears; and I shan’t think myself safe, till I am at my poor father’s and mother’s.’
She was a little angry with me, ’till I assured her, that I had not the least uneasiness on her account, but thought myself safe in her protection and friendship. And so we dropped the discourse for that time.
I hope to have finished this waistcoat in two days; after which, I have only some fine linen to get up, and shall then let you know how I contrive as to my passage; for the heavy rains will make it sad travelling on foot: but, perhaps, I shall be able for a small matter to procure a place in Farmer Nichols’s one-horse-chaise,45 which goes to — market twice a week with his wife or daughter:46 and that, you know, is upwards of ten miles on the way. But I hope to let you know more.
P. A.
LETTER XXII
All my fellow-servants have now some notion, that I am to go away; but can’t imagine for what. Mrs Jervis tells them, that my father and mother, growing in years, cannot live without me; and so I go home to them, to help to comfort their old age; but they seem not to believe that to be the reason: because the butler heard my master ask me very roughly, as I passed by him in the entry leading to the hall, how long I was to stay here; and tell me, calling me idle girl, that I minded my pen more than my needle. Little things for such a gentleman as he is to say, and to ask, had there not been a reason.
He seemed startled, when he saw the butler, as he entered the hall, where Mr Jonathan stood. ‘What do you here?’ said he. The butler was confounded; and so was I; for, never having been taxed so roughly, I could not help crying; and got out of both their ways to Mrs Jervis, and made my complaint. ‘This love,’ said she, ‘is the deuce! in how many strange shapes does it make people shew themselves! And in some the farthest from their hearts.’
So one, and then another, has been since whispering, ‘Pray, Mrs Jervis, are we to lose Mrs Pamela?’ as they always call me. ‘What has she done?’ And then she tells them as above, about going home to you.
My master came in, just now, to speak to Mrs Jervis about household matters, having some company to dine with him tomorrow; and I stood up, and having been crying, at his roughness in the entry, I turned away my face.
‘You may well,’ said he, ‘turn away your cursed face. Mrs Jervis, how long is she to be about this waistcoat?’ Cursed face! What words were these!
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘if your honour had pleased, I would have taken the waistcoat with me; and though it may be now finished in a few hours, I will do so still, and remove out of your house and sight for ever so hated a creature.’
‘Mrs Jervis,’ said he, (not speaking to me) ‘I believe this little villain of a girl has the power of witchcraft; for she bewitches all that come near her. She makes even you, who should know better what the world is, think her an angel of light.’
I offered to go away; for I believed he wanted me to ask to stay in my place, for all this his great wrath and hard words; and he said, ‘Stay here! stay here when I bid you!’ and snatched my hand. I trembled, and said, ‘I will, I will!’ for he hurt my fingers.
He seemed to have a mind to say something to me; but broke off abruptly, and said, ‘Begone!’ And away I hurried; and he and Mrs Jervis had a deal of talk, as she told me; and in it he expressed himself vexed to have spoken in Mr Jonathan’s hearing.
Now you must know, that Mr Jonathan, our butler, is a very grave good sort of old man, with his hair as white as silver; and an honest worthy man he is. Hurrying down stairs from my master and Mrs Jervis, as I told you, into the parlour, there was he. He took my hand, but in a gentler manner than my master did, with both his; and he said, ‘Ah, sweet, sweet Mrs Pamela! what is it I heard but just now! I am sorry at my heart; but I am sure I will sooner believe any body in fault than you.’ ‘Thank you, Mr Jonathan,’ said I; ‘but as you value your place, don’t be seen speaking to such an one as me.’ I cried too; and slipt away as fast as I could from him, for his own sake, lest he should be seen to pity me.
And now I will give you an instance how much I am also in the favour of Mr Longman, our steward.
I had lost my pen some-how; and my paper being written out, I stepped to Mr Longman’s office, and begged him to give me a pen or two, and two or three sheets of paper. ‘Ay, that I will, my sweet maiden!’ said he; and gave me three pens, some wafers,47 a stick of wax, and twelve sheets of paper; and coming from his desk, where he was writing, he said, ‘Let me have a word or two with you, my sweet little mistress’ (for so these two good old men often call me; for I believe they love me dearly): ‘I hear bad news: that we are going to lose you: I hope it is not true?’
‘Yes, it is, sir,’ said I; ‘but I was in hopes it would not be known till I went away.’
‘What a dickens,’48 said he, ‘ails our master of late! I never saw such an alteration in any man in my life. He is pleased with nobody, as I see; and by what Jonathan tells me just now, he was quite out of the way49 with you. What could you have done to him, trow?50 Only Mrs Jervis is
a very good woman, or I should have feared she had been your enemy.’
‘Mrs Jervis,’ said I, ‘is a just good woman, and, next to my father and mother, the best friend I have in the world.’ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘it must be worse. Shall I guess? You are too pretty, my sweet mistress, and it may be, too virtuous. Ah! have I not hit it?’
‘No, good Mr Longman,’ said I, ‘don’t think any thing amiss of my master; he is cross and angry with me, that’s true; but possibly I may have given occasion for it; and because I chuse to go to my father and mother rather than stay here, he may perhaps think me ungrateful. But you know, sir, that a father and mother’s comfort is the dearest thing of all others to a good child.’ ‘Sweet excellence! ‘said he, ‘this becomes you; but I know the world and mankind too well; though I must hear, and see, and say nothing! And so a blessing attend my little sweeting, wherever you go!’ And away went I, with a court’sy and thanks.
Now it pleases one, my dear father and mother, you must think, to be so beloved. How much better, by good fame and integrity, it is to get every one’s good word but one, than by pleasing that one, to make every one else one’s enemy, and be a wicked creature besides! I am, &c.
LETTER XXIII
We had a great many neighbouring gentlemen, and their ladies, this day at dinner; and my master made a fine entertainment for them. And Isaac and Mr Jonathan, and Benjamin waited at table. And Isaac tells Mrs Jervis, that the ladies will by and by come to see the house, and have the curiosity to see me; for, it seems, they said to my master, when the jokes flew about, ‘Well, Mr B—, we understand, you have a servant-maid, who is the greatest beauty in the county; and we promise ourselves to see her before we go.’