ll become of me. Ah Mrs. Jewkes, said I, if I can but keep myself
virtuous, 'tis the most of my ambition; and I hope, no temptation shall
make me otherwise.

Notwithstanding I had no reason to be pleased with his treatment of me
before dinner, yet I made haste to attend him; and I found him walking
by the side of that pond, which, for want of grace, and through a sinful
despondence, had like to have been so fatal to me, and the sight of
which, ever since, has been a trouble and reproach to me. And it was
by the side of this pond, and not far from the place where I had that
dreaded conflict, that my present hopes, if I am not to be deceived
again, began to dawn: which I presume to flatter myself with being
a happy omen for me, as if God Almighty would shew your poor sinful
daughter, how well I did to put my affiance in his goodness, and not
to throw away myself, because my ruin seemed inevitable, to my
short-sighted apprehension.

So he was pleased to say, Well, Pamela, I am glad you are come of your
own accord, as I may say: give me your hand. I did so; and he looked
at me very steadily, and pressing my hand all the time, at last said, I
will now talk to you in a serious manner.

You have a good deal of wit, a great deal of penetration, much beyond
your years, and, as I thought, your opportunities. You are possessed
of an open, frank, and generous mind; and a person so lovely, that you
excel all your sex, in my eyes. All these accomplishments have engaged
my affection so deeply, that, as I have often said, I cannot live
without you; and I would divide, with all my soul, my estate with you,
to make you mine upon my own terms. These you have absolutely rejected;
and that, though in saucy terms enough, yet in such a manner as makes
me admire you the more. Your pretty chit-chat to Mrs. Jewkes, the last
Sunday night, so innocent, and so full of beautiful simplicity, half
disarmed my resolution before I approached your bed: And I see you so
watchful over your virtue, that though I hoped to find it otherwise, I
cannot but confess my passion for you is increased by it. But now,
what shall I say farther, Pamela?--I will make you, though a party, my
adviser in this matter, though not, perhaps, my definitive judge.

You know I am not a very abandoned profligate; I have hitherto been
guilty of no very enormous or vile actions. This of seizing you, and
confining you thus, may perhaps be one of the worst, at least to persons
of r