Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded

O, sir! said, he, you are too pleasant for my griefs. My heart’s almost broke. But may I not see my poor child? You shall presently, said he; for she is coming down to us; and since you won’t believe me, I hope you will her.

I will ask you, good sir, said he, but one question till then, that I may know how to look upon her when I see her. Is she honest? Is she virtuous?—As the new-born babe, Mr. Andrews, said my good master; and in twelve days time, I hope, will be my wife.

O flatter me not, good your honour, said he: It cannot be! it cannot be!—I fear you have deluded her with strange hopes; and would make me believe impossibilities!—Mrs. Jewkes, said he, do you tell my dear Pamela’s good father, when I go out, all you know concerning me, and your mistress that is to be. Meantime, make much of him, and set out what you have; and make him drink a glass of what he likes best. If this be wine, added he, fill me a bumper.

She did so; and he took my father by the hand, and said, Believe me, good man, and be easy; for I can’t bear to see you tortured in this cruel suspense: Your dear daughter is the beloved of my soul. I am glad you are come: for you’ll see us all in the same story. And here’s your dame’s health; and God bless you both, for being the happy means of procuring for me so great a blessing! And so he drank a bumper to this most obliging health.

What do I hear? It cannot surely be! said my father. And your honour is too good, I hope, to mock a poor old man—This ugly story, sir, of the bishop, runs in my head—But you say I shall see my dear child—And I shall see her honest.—If not, poor as I am, I would not own her.

My master bid Mrs. Jewkes not to let me know yet, that my father was come; and went to the company, and said, I have been agreeably surprised: Here is honest old Goodman Andrews come full of grief to see his daughter; for he fears she is seduced; and tells me, good honest man, that, poor as he is, he will not own her, if she be not virtuous. O, said they all, with one voice almost, Dear sir! shall we not see the good old man you have so praised for his plain good sense, and honest heart? If, said he, I thought Pamela would not be too much affected with the surprise, I would make you all witness to their first interview; for never did daughter love a father, or a father a daughter, as they two do one another. Miss Darnford, and all the ladies, and the gentlemen too, begged it might be so. But was not this very cruel, my dear mother? For well might they think I should not support myself in such an agreeable surprise.

He said, kindly, I have but one fear, that the dear girl may be too much affected. O, said Lady Darnford, we’ll all help to keep up her spirits. Says he, I’ll go up, and prepare her; but won’t tell her of it. So he came up to me, as I have said, and amused me about Mr. Williams, to half prepare me for some surprise; though that could not have been any thing to this: and he left me, as I said, in that suspense, at his mystical words, saying, He would send to me, when they were going to cards.

My master went from me to my father, and asked if he had eaten any thing. No, said Mrs. Jewkes; the good man’s heart is so full, he cannot eat, nor do any thing, till he has seen his dear daughter. That shall soon be, said my master. I will have you come in with me; for she is going to sit down with my guests, to a game at quadrille; and I will send for her down. O, sir, said my father, don’t, don’t let me; I am not fit to appear before your guests; let me see my daughter by myself, I beseech you. Said he, They all know your honest character, Goodman Andrews, and long to see you, for Pamela’s sake.

So he took my father by the hand, and led him in, against his will, to the company. They were all very good. My master kindly said, Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you one of the honestest men in England, my good Pamela’s father. Mr. Peters went to him, and took him by the hand, and said, We are all glad to see you, sir; you are the happiest man in the world in a daughter; whom we never saw before to-day, but cannot enough admire.

Said my master, This gentleman, Goodman Andrews, is the minister of the parish; but is not young enough for Mr. Williams. This airy expression, my poor father said, made him fear, for a moment, that all was a jest.—Sir Simon also took him by the hand, and said, Ay, you have a sweet daughter, Honesty; we are all in love with her. And the ladies came, and said very fine things: Lady Darnford particularly, That he might think himself the happiest man in England, in such a daughter. If, and please you, madam, said he, she be but virtuous, ‘tis all in all: For all the rest is accident. But I doubt his honour has been too much upon the jest with me. No, said Mrs. Peters, we are all witnesses, that he intends very honourably by her.—It is some comfort, said he, and wiped his eyes, that such good ladies say so—But I wish I could see her.

They would have had him sit down by them; but he would only sit behind the door, in the corner of the room, so that one could not soon see him as one came in; because the door opened against him, and hid him almost. The ladies all sat down; and my master said, Desire Mrs. Jewkes to step up, and tell Mrs. Andrews the ladies wait for her. So down I came.

Miss Darnford rose, and met me at the door, and said, Well, Miss Andrews, we longed for your company. I did not see my dear father; and it seems his heart was too full to speak; and he got up, and sat down three or four times successively, unable to come to me, or to say any thing. The ladies looked that way: but I would not, supposing it was Mr. Williams. And they made me sit down between Lady Darnford and Lady Jones; and asked me, what we should play at? I said, At what your ladyships please. I wondered to see them smile, and look upon me, and to that corner of the room; but I was afraid of looking that way, for fear of seeing Mr. Williams; though my face was that way too, and the table before me.

Said my master, Did you send your letter away to the posthouse, my good girl, for your father? To be sure, sir, said I, I did not forget that: I took the liberty to desire Mr. Thomas to carry it. What, said he, I wonder, will the good old couple say to it? O sir, said I, your goodness will be a cordial to their dear honest hearts! At that, my dear father, not able to contain himself, nor yet to stir from the place, gushed out into a flood of tears, which he, good soul! had been struggling with, it seems; and cried out, O my dear child!

I knew the voice, and, lifting up my eyes, and seeing my father, gave a spring, overturned the table, without regard to the company, and threw myself at his feet: O my father! my father! said I, can it be?—Is it you? Yes, it is! it is!—O bless your happy daughter! I would have said, and down I sunk.

My master seemed concerned—I feared, said he, that the surprise would be too much for her spirits; and all the ladies ran to me, and made me drink a glass of water; and I found myself encircled in the arms of my dearest father.—O tell me, said I, every thing! How long have you been here? When did you come? How does my honoured mother? And half a dozen questions more, before he could answer one.

They permitted me to retire with my father; and then I poured forth all my vows and thanksgivings to God for this additional blessing; and confirmed all my master’s goodness to his scarce-believing amazement. And we kneeled together, blessing God, and one another, for several ecstatic minutes and my master coming in soon after, my dear father said, O sir, what a change is this! May, God reward and bless you, both in this world and the next!

May God bless us all! said he. But how does my sweet girl? I have been in pain for you—I am sorry I did not apprise you beforehand.

O sir, said I, it was you; and all you do must be good—But this was a blessing so unexpected!–

Well, said he, you have given pain to all the company. They will be glad to see you, when you can: for you have spoiled all their diversion; and yet painfully delighted them at the same time. Mr. Andrews, added he, do you make this house your own; and the longer you stay, the more welcome you’ll be. After you have a little composed yourself, my dear girl, step in to us again. I am glad to see you so well already. And so he left us.

See you, my dear father, said I, what goodness there is in this once naughty master! O pray for him! and pray for me, that I may deserve it!

How long has this happy change been wrought, my dear child?—O, said I, several happy days!—I have written down every thing; and you’ll see, from the depth of misery, what God has done for your happy daughter!

Blessed be his name! said he. But do you say he will marry you? Can it be, that such a brave gentleman will make a lady of the child of such a poor man as I? O the divine goodness! How will your poor dear mother be able to support these happy tidings? I will set out to-morrow, to acquaint her with them: for I am but half happy, till the dear good woman shares them with me!—To be sure, my dear child, we ought to go into some far country to hide ourselves, that we may not disgrace you by our poverty!

O, my dear father, said I, now you are unkind for the first time! Your poverty has been my glory, and my riches; and I have nothing to brag of, but that I ever thought it an honour, rather than a disgrace; because you were always so honest, that your child might well boast of such a parentage!

In this manner, my dear mother, did we pass the happy moments, till Miss Darnford came to me, and said, How do you do, dear madam? I rejoice to see you so well! Pray let us have your company. And yours too, good Mr. Andrews, taking his hand.

This was very obliging, I told her; and we went to the great parlour; and my master took my father by the hand, and made him sit down by him, and drink a glass of wine with him. Mean-time, I made my excuses to the ladies, as well as I could, which they readily granted me. But Sir Simon, after his comical manner, put his hands on my shoulders: Let me see, let me see, said he, where your wings grow; for I never saw any body fly like you.—Why, said he, you have broken Lady Jones’s shins with the table. Shew her else, madam.

His pleasantry made them laugh. And I said, I was very sorry for my extravagancy: and if it had not been my master’s doings, I should have said, it was a fault to permit me to be surprised, and put out of myself, before such good company. They said, All was very excusable; and they were glad I suffered no more by it.

They were so kind as to excuse me at cards, and played by themselves; and I went by my master’s commands and sat on the other side, in the happiest place I ever was blest with, between two of the dearest men in the world to me, and each holding one of my hands:—my father, every now and then, with tears, lifting up his eyes, and saying, Could I ever have hoped this!

I asked him, If he had been so kind as to bring the papers with him? He said, He had; and looked at me, as who should say, Must I give them to you now?—I said, Be pleased to let me have them. He pulled them from his pocket; and I stood up, and, with my best duty, gave them into my master’s hands. He said, Thank you, Pamela. Your father shall take all with him, so see what a sad fellow I have been, as well as the present happier alteration. But I must have them all again, for the writer’s sake.

The ladies and gentlemen would make me govern the tea-table, whatever I could do; and Abraham attended me, to serve the company. My master and my father sat together, and drank a glass or two of wine instead of tea, and Sir Simon joked with my master, saying, I warrant you would not be such a woman’s man, as to drink tea, for ever so much, with the ladies. But your time’s coming, and I doubt not you’ll be made as comfortable as I.

My master was very urgent with them to stay supper; and at last they complied, on condition that I would grace the table, as they were pleased to call it. I begged to be excused. My master said, Don’t be excused, Pamela, since the ladies desire it: And besides, said he, we won’t part with your father; and so you may as well stay with us.

I was in hopes my father and I might sup by ourselves, or only with Mrs. Jewkes. And Miss Darnford, who is a most obliging young lady, said, We will not part with you, indeed we won’t.

When supper was brought in, Lady Darnford took me by the hand, and said to my master, Sir, by your leave; and would have placed me at the upper end of the table. Pray, pray, madam, said I, excuse me; I cannot do it, indeed I cannot. Pamela, said my master, to the great delight of my good father, as I could see by his looks, oblige Lady Darnford, since she desires it. It is but a little before your time, you know.

Dear, good sir, said I, pray don’t command it! Let me sit by my father, pray! Why, said Sir Simon, here’s ado indeed! Sit down at the upper end, as you should do; and your father shall sit by you, there. This put my dear father upon difficulties. And my master said, Come, I’ll place you all: and so put Lady Darnford at the upper end, Lady Jones at her right hand, and Mrs. Peters on the other; and he placed me between the two young ladies; but very genteelly put Miss Darnford below her younger sister; saying, Come, miss, I put you here, because you shall hedge in this little cuckow; for I take notice, with pleasure, of your goodness to her; and, besides, all you very young ladies should sit together. This seemed to please both sisters; for had the youngest miss been put there, it might have piqued her, as matters have been formerly, to be placed below me; whereas Miss Darnford giving place to her youngest sister, made it less odd she should to me; especially with that handsome turn of the dear man, as if I was a cuckow, and to be hedged in.

My master kindly said, Come, Mr. Andrews, you and I will sit together. And so took his place at the bottom of the table, and set my father on his right hand; and Sir Simon would sit on his left. For, said he, parson, I think the petticoats should sit together; and so do you sit down by that lady (his sister). A boiled turkey standing by me, my master said, Cut up that turkey, Pamela, if it be not too strong work for you, that Lady Darnford may not have too much trouble. So I carved it in a trice, and helped the ladies. Miss Darnford said, I would give something to be so dexterous a carver. O madam, said I, my late good lady would always make me do these things, when she entertained her female friends, as she used to do on particular days.

Ay, said my master, I remember my poor mother would often say, if I, or any body at table, happened to be a little out in carving, I’ll send up for my Pamela, to shew you how to carve. Said Lady Jones, Mrs. Andrews has every accomplishment of her sex. She is quite wonderful for her years. Miss Darnford said, And I can tell you, madam, that she plays sweetly upon the spinnet, and sings as sweetly to it; for she has a fine voice. Foolish! said Sir Simon; who, that hears her speak, knows not that? And who that sees her fingers, believes not that they were made to touch any key? O, parson! said he, ‘tis well you’re by, or I should have had a blush from the ladies. I hope not, Sir Simon, said Lady Jones; for a gentleman of your politeness would not say any thing that would make ladies blush.—No, no, said he, for the world: but if I had, it would have been, as the poet says,

    ‘They blush, because they understand.’

When the company went away, Lady Darnford, Lady Jones, and Mrs. Peters, severally invited my master, and me with him, to their houses; and begged he would permit me, at least, to come before we left those parts. And they said, We hope, when the happy knot is tied, you will induce Mr. B– to reside more among us. We were always glad, said Lady Darnford, when he was here; but now shall have double reason. O what grateful things were these to the ears of my good father!

When the company was gone, my master asked my father, if he smoked? He answered, No. He made us both sit down by him, and said, I have been telling this sweet girl, that in fourteen days, and two of them are gone, she must fix on one to make me happy. And have left it to her to choose either one of the first or last seven. My father held up his hands, and eyes; God bless your honour! said he, is all I can say. Now, Pamela, said my master, taking my hand, don’t let a little wrong-timed bashfulness take place, without any other reason, because I should be glad to go to Bedfordshire as soon as I could; and I would not return till I carry my servants there a mistress, who should assist me to repair the mischiefs she has made in it.

I could not look up for confusion. And my father said, My dear child, I need not, I am sure, prompt your obedience in whatever will most oblige so good a gentleman. What says my Pamela? said my master: She does not use to be at a loss for expressions. Sir, said I, were I too sudden, it would look as if I doubted whether you would hold in your mind, and was not willing to give you time for reflection: but otherwise, to be sure I ought to resign myself implicitly to your will. Said he, I want not time for reflection: for I have often told you, and that long ago, I could not live without you: and my pride of condition made me both tempt and terrify you to other terms; but your virtue was proof against all temptations, and was not to be awed by terrors: Wherefore, as I could not conquer my passion for you, I corrected myself, and resolved, since you would not be mine upon my terms, you should upon your own: and now I desire you not on any other, I assure you: and I think the sooner it is done, the better. What say you, Mr. Andrews? Sir, said he, there is so much goodness on your side, and, blessed be God! so much prudence on my daughter’s, that I must be quite silent. But when it is done, I and my poor wife shall have nothing to do, but to pray for you both, and to look back, with wonder and joy, on the ways of Providence.

This, said my master, is Friday night; and suppose, my girl, it be next Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday morning?—Say, my Pamela.

Will you, sir, said I, excuse me till to-morrow for an answer? I will, said he; and touched the bell, and called for Mrs. Jewkes. Where, said he, does Mr. Andrews lie tonight? You’ll take care of him. He’s a very good man; and will bring a blessing upon every house he sets his foot in.

My dear father wept for joy; and I could not refrain keeping him company. And my master, saluting me, bid us good night, and retired. And I waited upon my dear father, and was so full of prattle, of my master’s goodness, and my future prospects, that I believed afterwards I was turned all into tongue: but he indulged me, and was transported with joy; and went to bed, and dreamed of nothing but Jacob’s ladder, and angels ascending and descending, to bless him and his daughter.

Saturday.

I arose early in the morning; but found my father was up before me, and was gone to walk in the garden. I went to him: and with what delight, with what thankfulness, did we go over every scene of it, that had before been so dreadful to me! The fish-pond, the back-door, and every place. O what reason had we for thankfulness and gratitude!

About seven o’clock my good master joined us, in his morning gown and slippers; and looking a little heavy, I said, Sir, I fear you had not good rest last night. That is your fault, Pamela, said he. After I went from you, I must needs look into your papers, and could not leave them till I had read them through; and so ‘twas three o’clock before I went to sleep. I wish, sir, said I, you had had better entertainment. The worst part of it, said he, was what I had brought upon myself; and you have not spared me. Sir, said I—He interrupting me, said, Well, I forgive you. You had too much reason for it. But I find, plainly enough, that if you had got away, you would soon have been Williams’s wife: and I can’t see how it could well have been otherwise. Indeed, sir, said I, I had no notion of it, or of being any body’s. I believe so, said he; but it must have come as a thing of course; and I see your father was for it. Sir, said he, I little thought of the honour your goodness would confer upon her; and I thought that would be a match above what we could do for her, a great deal. But when I found she was not for it, I resolved not to urge her; but leave all to her own prudence.

I see, said he, all was sincere, honest, and open; and I speak of it, if it had been done, as a thing that could hardly well be avoided; and I am quite satisfied. But, said he, I must observe, as I have a hundred times, with admiration, what a prodigious memory, and easy and happy manner of narration, this excellent girl has! And though she is full of her pretty tricks and artifices, to escape the snares I had laid for her, yet all is innocent, lovely, and uniformly beautiful. You are exceedingly happy in a daughter; and I hope I shall be so in a wife—Or, said my father, may she not have that honour! I fear it not, said he; and I hope I shall deserve it of her.

But, Pamela, said my master, I am sorry to find in some parts of your journal, that Mrs. Jewkes carried her orders a little too far: and I the more take notice of it, because you have not complained to me of her behaviour, as she might have expected for some parts of it; though a good deal was occasioned by my strict orders.—But she had the insolence to strike my girl, I find. Sir, said I, I was a little provoking, I believe; but as we forgave one another, I was the less entitled to complain of her.

Well, said he, you are very good; but if you have any particular resentment, I will indulge it so far, as that she shall hereafter have nothing to do where you are. Sir, said I, you are so kind, that I ought to forgive every body; and when I see that my happiness is brought about by the very means that I thought then my greatest grievance, I ought to bless those means, and forgive all that was disagreeable to me at the same time, for the great good that hath issued from it.—That, said he, and kissed me, is sweetly considered! and it shall be my part to make you amends for what you have suffered, that you may still think lighter of the one, and have cause to rejoice in the other.

My dear father’s heart was full; and he said, with his hands folded, and lifted up, Pray, sir, let me go—let me go—to my dear wife, and tell her all these blessed things, while my heart holds; for it is ready to burst with joy! Good man! said my master—I hope to hear this honest heart of yours speaking at your lips. I enjoin you, Pamela, to continue your relation, as you have opportunity; and though your father be here, write to your mother, that this wondrous story be perfect, and we, your friends, may read and admire you more and more. Ay, pray, pray do, my child, said my father; and this is the reason that I write on, my dear mother, when I thought not to do it, because my father could tell you all that passed while he was here.

My master took notice of my psalm, and was pleased to commend it; and 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.