ll his dignity with me?

LETTER XI

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 obliging, and don't stand in your
own light; and so saying, he put his arm about me, and kissed me!

Now, you will say, all his wickedness appeared plainly. I struggled and
trembled, and was so benumbed with terror, that I sunk down, not in a
fit, and yet not myself; and I found myself in his arms, quite void
of strength; and he kissed me two or three times, with frightful
eagerness.--At last I burst from him, and was getting out of the
summer-house; but he held me back, and shut the door.

I wo