er his daughter; and the maids would fain have had him go
into the kitchen. But Mrs. Jervis, having been told of his coming,
arose, and hastened down to her parlour, and took him in with her, and
there heard all his sad story, and read the letter. She wept bitterly,
but yet endeavoured, before him, to hide her concern; and said, Well,
Goodman Andrews, I cannot help weeping at your grief; but I hope there
is no occasion. Let nobody see this letter, whatever you do. I dare say
your daughter is safe.

Well, but, said he, I see you, madam, know nothing about her:--If all
was right, so good a gentlewoman as you are, would not have been a
stranger to this. To be sure you thought she was with me!

Said she, My master does not always inform his servants of his
proceedings; but you need not doubt his honour. You have his hand for
it: And you may see he can have no design upon her, because he is not
from hence, and does not talk of going hence. O that is all I have to
hope for! said he; that is all, indeed!--But, said he--and was going on,
when the report of his coming had reached the 'squire, who came down,
in his morning-gown and slippers, into the parlour, where he and Mrs.
Jervis were talking.

What's the matter, Goodman Andrews? said he, what's the matter? Oh my
child! said the good old man, give me my child! I beseech you.--Why, I
thought, says the 'squire, that I had satisfied you about her: Sure you
have not the letter I sent you, written with my own hand. Yes, yes, but
I have, sir, said he; and that brought me hither; and I have walked all
night. Poor man, returned he, with great seeming compassion, I am sorry
for it truly! Why, your daughter has made a strange racket in my family;
and if I thought it would have disturbed you so much, I would have e'en
let her go home; but what I did was to serve her, and you too. She is
very safe, I do assure you, Goodman Andrews; and you may take my honour
for it, I would not injure her for the world. Do you think I would, Mrs.
Jervis? No, I hope not, sir, said she.--Hope not! said the poor man; so
do I; but pray, sir, give me my child, that is all I desire; and I'll
take care no clergyman shall come near her.

Why, London is a great way off, said the 'squire, and I can't send for
her back presently. What, then, said he, have you sent my poor Pamela to
London? I would not have said it so, replied the 'squire; but I assure
you, upon my honour, she is quite safe and satisfied, and wil