DEAR MOTHER,
Well, I can't find my letter, and so I'll try to recollect it all, and be as brief as I can. All
went well enough in the main for some time after my letter but one. At last, I saw
some reason to suspect; for he would look upon me, whenever he saw me, in such a
manner, as shewed not well; and one day he came to me, as I was in the summer-
house in the little garden, at work with my needle, and Mrs. Jervis was just gone
from me; and I would have gone out, but he said, No don't go, Pamela; I have
something to say to you; and you always fly me when I come near you, as if you
were afraid of me.
I was much out of countenance, you may well think; but said, at last, It does not
become your good servant to stay in your presence, sir, without your business
required it; and I hope I shall always know my place.
Well, says he, my business does require it sometimes; and I have a mind you should
stay to hear what I have to say to you.
I stood still confounded, and began to tremble, and the more when he took me by
the hand; for now no soul was near us.
My sister Davers, said he, (and seemed, I thought, to be as much at a loss for words
as I,) would have had you live with her; but she would not do for you what I am
resolved to do, if you continue faithful and obliging. What say'st thou, my girl? said
he, with some eagerness; had'st thou not rather stay with me, than go to my sister
Davers? He looked so, as filled me with affrightment; I don't know how; wildly, I
thought.
I said, when I could speak, Your honour will forgive me; but as you have no lady for
me to wait upon, and my good lady has been now dead this twelvemonth, I had
rather, if it would not displease you, wait upon Lady Davers, because--
I was proceeding, and he said, a little hastily--Because you are a little fool, and know
not what's good for yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you, if you be
