th pleasure, of
your pursuing the doctrine you deliver.
My dear, said he, these observations are very kind in you, and much to
my advantage: But if I do not always (for I fear these were too much
accidents) so well pursue the doctrines I lay down, my Pamela must not
expect that my imperfections will be a plea for her nonobservance of my
lessons, as you call them; for, I doubt I shall never be half so perfect
as you; and so I cannot permit you to recede in your goodness, though I
may find myself unable to advance as I ought in my duty.
I hope, sir, said I, by God's grace, I never shall. I believe it, said
he; but I only mention this, knowing my own defects, lest my future
lessons should not be so well warranted by my practice, as in the
instances you have kindly recollected.
He was pleased to take notice of my dress; and spanning my waist with
his hands, said, What a sweet shape is here! It would make one regret to
lose it; and yet, my beloved Pamela, I shall think nothing but that loss
wanting, to complete my happiness.--I put my bold hand before his mouth,
and said, Hush, hush! O fie, sir!--The freest thing you have ever yet
said, since I have been yours!--He kissed my hand, and said, Such an
innocent wish, my dearest, may be permitted me, because it is the end
of the institution.--But say, Would such a case be unwelcome to my
Pamela?--I will say, sir, said I, and hid my blushing face on his bosom,
that your wishes, in every thing, shall be mine; but, pray, sir, say no
more. He kindly saluted me, and thanked me, and changed the subject.--I
was not too free, I hope.
Thus we talked, till we heard the coaches; and then he said, Stay here,
in the garden, my dear, and I'll bring the company to you. And when
he was gone, I passed by the back-door, kneeled down against it, and
blessed God for not permitting my then so much desired escape. I went
to the pond, and kneeled down on the mossy bank, and again blessed God
there, for his mercy in my escape from myself, my then worst enemy,
though I thought I had none but enemies, and no friend near me. And so I
ought to do in almost every step of this garden, and every room in this
house!--And I was bending my steps to the dear little chapel, to make my
acknowledgment there; but I saw the company coming towards me.
Miss Darnford said, So, Miss Andrews, how do you do now? O, you look so
easy, so sweetly, so pleased, that I know you'll let me dance at your
wedding, for I shal
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