I send them by John,
our footman, who goes your way: but he does not know what he carries;
because I seal them up in one of the little pill-boxes, which my lady
had, wrapt close in paper, that they mayn't chink; and be sure don't open
it before him.
I know, dear father and mother, I must give you both grief and pleasure;
and so I will only say, Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be
Your most dutiful DAUGHTER.
I have been scared out of my senses; for just now, as I was folding up
this letter in my late lady's dressing-room, in comes my young master!
Good sirs! how was I frightened! I went to hide the letter in my bosom;
and he, seeing me tremble, said, smiling, To whom have you been writing,
Pamela?--I said, in my confusion, Pray your honour forgive me!--Only to
my father and mother. He said, Well then, let me see how you are come on
in your writing! O how ashamed I was!--He took it, without saying more,
and read it quite through, and then gave it me again;--and I said, Pray
your honour forgive me!--Yet I know not for what: for he was always
dutiful to his parents; and why should he be angry that I was so to mine?
And indeed he was not angry; for he took me by the hand, and said, You
are a good girl, Pamela, to be kind to your aged father and mother.
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