Half an hour past eight o'clock.
My good dear master, my kind friend, my generous benefactor, my worthy
protector, and, oh! all the good words in one, my affectionate husband,
that is soon to be--(be curbed in, my proud heart, know thy self, and be
conscious of thy unworthiness!)--has just left me, with the kindest,
tenderest expressions, and gentlest behaviour, that ever blest a happy
maiden. He approached me with a sort of reined-in rapture. My Pamela!
said he, May I just ask after your employment? Don't let me chide my
dear girl this day, however. The two parsons will be here to breakfast
with us at nine; and yet you are not a bit dressed! Why this absence of
mind, and sweet irresolution?
Why, indeed, sir, said I, I will set about a reformation this instant.
He saw the common-prayer book lying in the window. I hope, said he, my
lovely maiden has been conning the lesson she is by-and-by to repeat.
Have you not, Pamela? and clasped his arms about me, and kissed me.
Indeed, sir, said I, I have been reading over the solemn service.--And
what thinks my fairest (for so he called me) of it?--O sir, 'tis very
awful, and makes one shudder, to reflect upon it!--No wonder, said he, it
should affect my sweet Pamela: I have been looking into it this morning,
and I can't say but I think it a solemn, but very suitable service.
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