honour pardon, and we will all become pleaders in a
body, and I, and Mrs. Jervis too, at the head of it, to beg his honour's
pardon, and to continue you, at least, till his honour marries.--No, Mr.
Longman, said I, I cannot ask; nor will I stay, if I might. All I desire
is, to return to my poor father and mother: and though I love you all, I
won't stay.--O well-a-day, well-a-day! said the good old man, I did not
expect this!--When I had got matters thus far, and had made all up for
Mrs. Jervis, I was in hopes to have got a double holiday of joy for all
the family, in your pardon too. Well, said my master, this is a little
specimen of what I told you, Longman. You see there's a spirit you did
not expect.

Mrs. Jervis told me after, that she could stay no longer, to hear me so
hardly used; and must have spoken, had she staid, what would never have
been forgiven her; so she went out. I looked after her to go too; but
my master said, Come, Pamela, give another specimen, I desire you, to
Longman I am sure you must, if you will but speak. Well, sir, said I,
since it seems your greatness wants to be justified by my lowness, and
I have no desire you should suffer in the sight of your family, I will
say, on my bended knees, (and so I kneeled down,) that I have been a
very faulty, and a very ungrateful creature to the best of masters: I
have been very perverse and saucy; and have deserved nothing at your
hands but to be turned out of your family with shame and disgrace. I,
therefore, have nothing to say for myself, but that I am not worthy to
stay, and so cannot wish to stay, and will not stay: And so God Almighty
bless you, and you Mr. Longman, and good Mrs. Jervis, and every living
soul of the family! and I will pray for you as long as I live!--And so
I rose up, and was forced to lean upon my master's elbow-chair, or I
should have sunk down.

The poor old man wept more than I, and said, Ads-bobbers, was ever the
like heard! 'Tis too much, too much; I can't bear it. As I hope to live,
I am quite melted. Dear sir, forgive her! The poor thing prays for
you; she prays for us all! She owns her fault; yet won't be forgiven! I
profess I know not what to make of it.

My master himself, hardened wretch as he was, seemed a little moved, and
took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and walked to the window:
What sort of a day is it? said he.--And then, getting a little more
hard-heartedness, he said, Well, you may be gone from my presen