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she meets with; and if she stays here, that she will not write the
affairs of my family purely for an exercise to her pen, and her
invention. I tell you she is a subtle, artful gipsy, and time will shew
it you.

Was ever the like heard, my dear father and mother? It is plain he did
not expect to meet with such a repulse, and mistrusts that I have told
Mrs. Jervis, and has my long letter too, that I intended for you; and so
is vexed to the heart. But I can't help it. I had better be thought
artful and subtle, than be so, in his sense; and, as light as he makes of
the words virtue and innocence in me, he would have made a less angry
construction, had I less deserved that he should do so; for then, may be,
my crime should have been my virtue with him naughty gentleman as he is!

I will soon write again; but must now end with saying, that I am, and
shall always be, Your honest DAUGHTER.



LETTER XV


DEAR MOTHER,

I broke off abruptly my last letter; for I feared he was coming; and so
it happened. I put the letter in my bosom, and took up my work, which
lay by me; but I had so little of the artful, as he called it, that I
looked as confused as if I had been doing some great harm.

Sit still, Pamela, said he, mind your work, for all me.--You don't tell
me I am welcome home, after my journey to Lincolnshire. It would be
hard, sir, said I, if you was not always welcome to your honour's own
house.

I would have gone; but he said, Don't run away, I tell you. I have a
word or two to say to you. Good sirs, how my heart went pit-a-pat! When
I was a little kind to you, said he, in the summer-house, and you carried
yourself so foolishly upon it, as if I had intended to do you great harm,
did I not tell you you should take no notice of what passed to any
creature? and yet you have made a common talk of the matter, not
considering either my reputation, or your own.--I made a common talk of
it, sir! said I: I have nobody to talk to, hardly.

He interrupted me, and said, Hardly! you little equivocator! what do you
mean by hardly? Let me ask you, have not you told Mrs. Jervis for one?
Pray your honour, said I, all in agitation, let me go down; for it is not
for me to hold an argument with your honour. Equivocator, again! said
he, and took my hand, what do you talk of an argument? Is it holding an
argument with me to answer a plain question? Answer me what I asked. O,
good sir, said I, let me beg you will not urge me farther, for fear I
forget myself again, and be saucy.

Answer me then, I bid you, says he, Have you not told Mrs. Jervis? It
will be saucy in you if you don't answer me directly to what I ask. Sir,
said I, and fain would have pulled my hand away, perhaps I should be for
answering you by another question, and that would not become me. What is
it you would say? replies he; speak out.

Then, sir, said I, why should your honour be so angry I should tell Mrs.
Jervis, or any body else, what passed, if you intended no harm?

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