But
this is Miss Goodwin. Her mother chose that name for her, said he,
because she should not be called by her own.
Well, said I, excuse me, sir; I must go and have a little prattle with
her. I'll send for her in again, replied he; and in she came in a
moment. I took her in my arms, and said, O my charming dear! will you
love me?--Will you let me be your aunt? Yes, madam, answered she, with
all my heart! and I will love you dearly: But I mustn't love my uncle.
Why so? said he. Because, replied she, you would not speak to me at
first! And because you would not let me call you uncle (for it seems she
was bid not, that I might not guess at her presently): and yet, said the
pretty dear, I had not seen you a great while, so I hadn't.
Well, Pamela, said he, now can you allow me to love this little innocent?
Allow you, sir, replied I; you would be very barbarous, if you did not;
and I should be more so, if I did not further it all I could, and love
the little lamb myself, for your sake and for her own sake; and in
compassion to her poor mother, though unknown to me: And tears stood in
my eyes.
Said he, Why, my love, are your words so kind, and your countenance so
sad?--I drew to the window from the child; and said, Sad it is not, sir;
but I have a strange grief and pleasure mingled at once in my breast, on
this occasion.
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