f, so you take
care of them."

But I am making another long letter, so will only add to it, that I
shall ever be your dutiful daughter.

PAMELA ANDREWS

_II.--Twelve Months Later_

MY DEAR MOTHER,--You and my good father may wonder you have not had a
letter from me in so many weeks; but a sad, sad scene has been the
occasion of it. But yet, don't be frightened, I am honest, and I hope
God, in his goodness, will keep me so.

O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor
to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his
good, dying mother! This very gentleman (yes, I _must_ call him
gentleman, though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has
degraded himself to offer freedoms to his poor servant; he has now
showed himself in his true colours, and, to me, nothing appears so black
and so frightful.

I have not been idle; but had writ from time to time, how he, by sly,
mean degrees, exposed his wicked views, but somebody stole my letter,
and I know not what is become of it. I am watched very narrowly; and he
says to Mrs. Jervis, the housekeeper, "This girl is always scribbling; I
think she may be better employed." And yet I work very hard with my
needle upon his linen and the fine linen of the family; and am, besides,
about flowering him a waistcoat. But, oh, my heart's almost broken; for
what am I likely to have for any reward but shame and disgrace, or else
ill words and hard treatment!

As I can't find my letter, I'll try to recollect it all. All went well
enough in the main, for some time. But 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,
"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, and began to tremble,
and the more when he took me by the hand, for no soul was near us.

"You are a little fool," he said hastily, "and know not what's good for
yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you if you are
obliging, and don't stand in your own light." And so saying, he put his
arm about me and kiss'd me.

Now, you will say, all his wickedness appear'd plainly. I burst from
him, and was getting out of the summer-house, but he held me back, and
sh