To be sure, Pamela is a better companion for a lady, than a monkey or a harlequin: but I fear you'll set her above herself, and make her vain and pert; and that, at last, in order to support her pride, she may fall into temptations which may be fatal to herself, and others too.'
"'I'm glad to hear this from my son,' replied the good lady. 'But the moment I see my favour puffs her up, I shall take other measures.'
"'Well,' thought I to myself, 'I only want to conceal my views from your penetrating eye, my good mother; and I shall one day take as much delight in your girl, and her accomplishments, as you now do; so go on, and improve her as fast as you will. I'll only now and then talk against her, to blind you; and doubt not that all you do will qualify her the better for my purpose. Only,' thought I, 'fly swiftly on, two or three more tardy years, and I'll nip this bud by the time it begins to open, and place it in my bosom for a year or two at least: for so long, if the girl behaves worthy of her education, I doubt not, she'll be new to me.—Excuse me, ladies;—excuse me, Lord Davers;—if I am not ingenuous, I had better be silent."
I will not interrupt this affecting narration, by mentioning my own alternate blushes, confusions, and exclamations, as the naughty man went on; nor the censures, and many Out upon you's of the attentive ladies, and Fie, brother's, of Lord Davers; nor yet with apologies for the praises on myself, so frequently intermingled—contenting myself to give you, as near as I can recollect, the very sentences of the dear relator. And as to our occasional exclaimings and observations, you may suppose what they were.
"So," continued Mr. B., "I went on dropping hints against her now and then; and whenever I met her in the passages about the house, or in the garden, avoiding to look at, or to speak to her, as she passed me, curtseying, and putting on a thousand bewitching airs of obligingness and reverence; while I (who thought the best way to demolish the influence of such an education, would be not to alarm her fears on one hand, or to familiarize myself to her on the other, till I came to strike the blow) looked haughty and reserved, and passed by her with a stiff nod at most. Or, if I spoke, 'How does your lady this morning, girl?—I hope she rested well last night:' then, covered with blushes, and curtseying at every word, as if she thought herself unworthy of answering my questions, she'd trip away in a kind of confusion, as soon as she had spoken. And once I heard her say to Mrs. Jervis, 'Dear Sirs, my young master spoke to me, and called me by my name, saying—How slept your lady last night, Pamela?—Was not that very good, Mrs. Jervis?'—'Ay,' thought I, 'I am in the right way, I find: this will do in proper time. Go on, my dear mother, improving as fast as you will: I'll engage to pull down in three hours, what you'll be building up in as many years, in spite of all the lessons you can teach her.'
"'Tis enough for me, that I am establishing in you, ladies, and in you, my lord, a higher esteem for my Pamela (I am but too sensible I shall lose a good deal of my own reputation) in the relation I am now giving you.
"I dressed, grew more confident, and as insolent withal, as if, though I had not Lady Davers's wit and virtue, I had all her spirit—(excuse me, Lady Davers;) and having a pretty bold heart, which rather put me upon courting than avoiding a danger or difficulty, I had but too much my way with every body; and many a menaced complaint have I looked down, with a haughty air, and a promptitude, like that of Colbrand's to your footmen at the Hall, to clap my hand to my side; which was of the greater service to my bold enterprise, as two or three gentlemen had found I knew how to be in earnest."
"Ha!" said my lady, "thou wast ever an impudent fellow: and many a vile roguery have I kept from my poor mother.—Yet, to my knowledge, she thought you no saint."
"Ay, poor lady," continued he, "she used now-and-then to catechize me; and was sure I was not so good as I ought to be:—'For, son,' she would cry, 'these late hours, these all night works, and to come home so sober cannot be right.-I'm not sure, if I were to know all, (and yet I'm afraid of inquiring after your ways) whether I should not have reason to wish you were brought home in wine, rather than to come in so sober, and so late, as you do.'
"Once, I remember, in the summer-time, I came home about six in the morning, and met the good lady unexpectedly by the garden back-door, of which I had a key to let myself in at all hours. I started, and would have avoided her: but she called me to her, and then I approached her with an air, 'What brings you, Madam, into the garden at so early an hour?' turning my face from her; for I had a few scratches on my forehead—with a thorn, or so—which I feared she would be more inquisitive about than I cared she should.
"'And what makes you,' said she, 'so early here, Billy?—What a rakish figure dost thou make!—One time or other these courses will yield you but little comfort, on reflection: would to God thou wast but happily married!'
"'So, Madam, the old wish!—I'm not so bad as you think me:—I hope I have not merited so great a punishment.'
"These hints I give, not as matter of glory, but shame: yet I ought to tell you all the truth, or nothing. 'Meantime,' thought I, (for I used to have some compunction for my vile practices, when cool reflection, brought on by satiety, had taken hold of me) 'I wish this sweet girl was grown to years of susceptibility, that I might reform this wicked course of life, and not prowl about, disturbing honest folks' peace, and endangering myself.' And as I had, by a certain very daring and wicked attempt, in which, however, I did not succeed, set a hornet's nest about my ears, which I began to apprehend would sting me to death, having once escaped an ambush by dint of mere good luck; I thought it better to remove the seat of my warfare into another kingdom, and to be a little more discreet for the future in my amours. So I went to France a second time, and passed a year there in the best of company, and with some improvement both to my morals and understanding; and had a very few sallies, considering my love of intrigue, and the ample means I had to prosecute successfully all the desires of my heart.
"When I returned, several matches were proposed to me, and my good mother often requested me to make her so happy, as she called it, as to see me married before she died; but I could not endure the thoughts of the state: for I never saw a lady whose temper and education I liked, or with whom I thought I could live tolerably. She used in vain therefore to plead family reasons to me:—like most young fellows, I was too much a self-lover, to pay so great a regard to posterity; and, to say truth, had little solicitude at that time, whether my name were continued or not, in my own descendants. However, I looked upon my mother's Pamela with no small pleasure, and I found her so much improved, as well in person as behaviour, that I had the less inducement either to renew my intriguing life, or to think of a married state.
"Yet, as my mother had all her eyes about her, as the phrase is, I affected great shyness, both before her, and to the girl; for I doubted not, my very looks would be watched by them both; and what the one discovered would not be a secret to the other; and laying myself open too early to a suspicion, I thought, would but ice the girl over, and make her lady more watchful.
"So I used to go into my mother's apartment, and come out of it, without taking the least notice of her, but put on stiff airs; and as she always withdrew when I came in, I never made any pretence to keep her there.
"Once, indeed, my mother, on my looking after her, when her back was turned, said, 'My dear son, I don't like your eye following my girl so intently.—Only I know that sparkling lustre natural to it, or I should have some fear for my Pamela, as she grows older.'
"'I look after her. Madam!-My eyes sparkle at such a girl as that! No indeed! She may be your favourite as a waiting-maid; but I see nothing but clumsy curtseys and awkward airs about her. A little rustic affectation of innocence, that to such as cannot see into her, may pass well enough.'
"'Nay, my dear,' replied my mother, 'don't say that, of all things.
She has no affectation, I am sure.'
"'Yes, she has, in my eye, Madam, and I'll tell you how it is; you have taught her to assume the
