t he
carries; because I seal them up in one of the little pill-boxes, which
my lady had, wrapt close in paper, that they mayn't chink; and be sure
don't open it before him.

I know, dear father and mother, I must give you both grief and pleasure;
and so I will only say, Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be

Your most dutiful DAUGHTER.

I have been scared out of my senses; for just now, as I was folding up
this letter in my late lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master!
Good sirs! how was I frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom;
and he, seeing me tremble, said, smiling, To whom have you been writing,
Pamela?--I said, in my confusion, Pray your honour forgive me!--Only to
my father and mother. He said, Well then, let me see how you are come on
in your writing! O how ashamed I was!--He took it, without saying more,
and read it quite through, and then gave it me again;--and I said, Pray
your honour forgive me!--Yet I know not for what: for he was always
dutiful to his parents; and why should he be angry that I was so to
mine? And indeed he was not angry; for he took me by the hand, and said,
You are a good girl, Pamela, to be kind to your aged father and mother.
I am not angry with you for writing such innocent matters as these:
though you ought to be wary what tales you send out of a family.--Be
faithful and diligent; and do as you should do, and I like you the
better for this. And then he said, Why, Pamela, you write a very pretty
hand, and spell tolerably too. I see my good mother's care in your
learning has not been thrown away upon you. She used to say you loved
reading; you may look into any of her books, to improve yourself, so you
take care of them. To be sure I did nothing but courtesy and cry,
and was all in confusion, at his goodness. Indeed he is the best of
gentlemen, I think! But I am making another long letter: So will only
add to it, that I shall ever be Your dutiful daughter, PAMELA ANDREWS.

LETTER II

[In answer to the preceding.]

DEAR PAMELA,

Your letter was indeed a great trouble, and some comfort, to me and your
poor mother. We are troubled, to be sure, for your good lady's death,
who took such care of you, and gave you learning, and, for three or
four years past, has always been giving you clothes and linen, and every
thing that a gentlewoman need not be ashamed to appear in. But our chief
trouble is, and indeed a very great one, for fear you should be brought
to