ut the door.

I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, "I'll do you no
harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me."

I sobb'd and cry'd most sadly. "What a foolish hussy you are!" said he.
"Have I done you any harm?" "Yes, sir," said I, "the greatest harm in
the world; you have taught me to forget myself, and have lessen'd the
distance that fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself to be
so free to a poor servant. I am honest, though poor; and if you were a
prince I would not be otherwise than honest."

He was angry, and said, "Who, little fool, would have you otherwise?
Cease your blubbering. I own I have undervalued myself; but it was only
to try you. If you can keep this matter secret, you'll give me the
better opinion of your prudence. And here's something," added he,
putting some gold in my hand, "to make you amends for the fright I put
you in. Go, take a walk in the garden, and don't go in till your
blubbering is over."

"I won't take the money, indeed, sir," said I, and so I put it upon the
bench. And as he seemed vexed and confounded at what he had done, I took
the opportunity to hurry out of the summer-house.

He called to me, and said, "Be secret, I charge you, Pamela; and don't
go in yet."

O how poor and mean must those actions be, and how little they must make
the best of gentlemen look, when they put it into the power of their
inferiors to be greater than they!

Pray for me, my dear father and mother; and don't be angry that I have
not yet run away from this house, so late my comfort and delight, but
now my terror and anguish. I am forc'd to break off hastily.

Your dutiful and honest DAUGHTER.

_III.--Pamela in Distress_

O my dearest Father and Mother,--Let me write and bewail my miserable
fate, though I have no hope that what I write can be convey'd to your
hands! I have now nothing to do but write and weep and fear and pray!
But I will tell you what has befallen me, and some way, perhaps, may be
opened to send the melancholy scribble to you. Alas, the unhappy Pamela
may be undone before you can know her hard lot!

Last Thursday morning came, when I was to set out and return home to
you, my dearest parents. I had taken my leave of my fellow-servants
overnight, and a mournful leave it was to us all, for men, as well as
women servants, wept to part with me; and for _my_ part, I was
overwhelmed with tears on the affecting instances of t