l into everlasting
misery! Hitherto, Pamela, thought I, thou art the innocent, the
suffering Pamela; and wilt thou, to avoid thy sufferings, be the guilty
aggressor? And, because wicked men persecute thee, wilt thou fly in the
face of the Almighty, and distrust his grace and goodness, who can still
turn all these sufferings to benefits? And how do I know, but that God,
who sees all the lurking vileness of my heart, may have permitted these
sufferings on that very score, and to make me rely solely on his grace
and assistance, who, perhaps, have too much prided myself in a vain
dependence on my own foolish contrivances?
Then, again, thought I, wilt thou suffer in one moment all the good
lessons of thy poor honest parents, and the benefit of their example,
(who have persisted in doing their duty with resignation to the divine
will, amidst the extreme degrees of disappointment, poverty, and
distress, and the persecutions of an ungrateful world, and merciless
creditors,) to be thrown away upon thee: and bring down, as in all
probability this thy rashness will, their grey hairs with sorrow to
the grave, when they shall understand, that their beloved daughter,
slighting the tenders of divine grace, despairing of the mercies of a
protecting God, has blemished, in this last act, a whole life, which
they had hitherto approved and delighted in?
What then, presumptuous Pamela, dost thou here? thought I: Quit with
speed these perilous banks, and fly from these curling waters, that
seem, in their meaning murmurs, this still night, to reproach thy
rashness! Tempt not God's goodness on the mossy banks, that have been
witnesses of thy guilty purpose: and while thou hast power left thee,
avoid the tempting evil, lest thy grand enemy, now repulsed by divine
grace, and due reflection, return to the assault with a force that thy
weakness may not be able to resist! and let one rash moment destroy all
the convictions, which now have awed thy rebellious mind into duty and
resignation to the divine will!
And so saying, I arose; but was so stiff with my hurts, so cold with the
moist dew of the night, and the wet grass on which I had sat, as also
with the damps arising from so large a piece of water, that with great
pain I got from this pond, which now I think of with terror; and bending
my limping steps towards the house, took refuge in the corner of an
outhouse, where wood and coals are laid up for family use, till I
should be found by my
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