ar, by this tragedy speech, we are not
to expect any sad catastrophe to our present misunderstanding."

"I hope not, Sir. But 'tis all as God and you shall please. I am
resolved to do my duty, Sir, if possible. But, indeed, I cannot bear
this cruel suspense! Let me know what is to become of me. Let me
know but what is designed for me, and you shall be sure of all the
acquiescence that my duty and conscience can give to your pleasure."

"What _means_ the dear creature? What _means my_ Pamela? Surely, your
head, child, is a little affected!"

"I can't tell, Sir, but it may!--But let me have my trial, that you
write about. Appoint my day of hearing, and speedily too; for I would
not bear such another month, as the last has been, for the world."

"Come, my dear," said he, "let me attend you to your chamber. But your
mind has taken much too solemn a turn, to enter further now upon this
subject. Think as well of me as I do of you, and I shall be as happy
as ever."

I wept, "Be not angry, dear Sir: your kind words have just the same
effect upon me now, as in the afternoon."

"Your apprehensions, my dear, must be very strong, that a kind word,
as you call it, has such an effect upon you! But let us wave the
subject for a few days, because I am to set out on a little journey at
four, and had not intended to go to bed, for so few hours."

When we came up, I said, "I was very bold. Sir, to break in upon you;
but I could not help it, if my life had been the forfeit; and you
received me with more goodness than I could have expected. But will
you pardon me, if I ask, whither you go so soon? And if you had
intended to have gone without taking leave of me?"

"I go to Tunbridge, my dear. I should have stept up and taken leave of
you before I went."

"Well, Sir, I will not ask you, who is of your party: I will not--No,"
(putting my hand to his lips) "don't tell me. Sir: it mayn't be
proper."

"Don't fear, my dear; I won't tell you: nor am I certain whether it
be _proper_ or not, till we are come to a better understanding. Only,
once more, think as well of me as I do of you."

"Would to Heaven," thought I, "there was the same reason for the one
as for the other!"

I intended (for my heart was full) to enter further into this subject,
so fatal to my repose: but the dear gentleman had no sooner laid his
head on the pillow, but he fell asleep, or feigned to do so, and that
was as prohibitory to my talking as if he had. So I ha