But I am running on in a strain that shews my impatience, rather than my resignation; yet some struggles must be allowed me: I could not have loved, as I love, if I could easily part with my interest in so beloved a husband.—For my interest I will part with, and sooner die, than live with a gentleman who has another wife, though I was the first. Let countesses, if they can, and ladies of birth, choose to humble themselves to this baseness. The low-born Pamela cannot stoop to it. Pardon me; you know I only write this with a view to this poor lady’s answer to her noble uncle, of which you wrote me word.
Is now concluding. I hope I am much calmer. For, being disappointed, in all likelihood, in twenty agreeable schemes and projects, I am now forming new ones, with as much pleasure to myself as I may.
I am thinking to try to get good Mrs. Jervis with me. You must not, Madam, be too much concerned for me. After a while, I shall be no unhappy person; for though I was thankful for my splendid fortunes, and should have been glad, to be sure I should, of continuing in them, with so dear a gentleman; yet a high estate had never such dazzling charms with me as it has with some: if it had, I could not have resisted so many temptations, possibly, as God enabled me to resist.
Is now come. ’Tis nine, and no Mr. B.—“O why,” as Deborah makes the mother of Sisera say, “is his chariot so long in coming? Why tarry the wheels of his chariot?”
I have this note now at eleven o’clock:
“MY DEAREST PAMELA,
“I dispatch the messenger, lest, expecting me this night, you should be uneasy. I shall not be with you till Monday, when I hope to dine with my dearest life. Ever affectionately yours.”
So I’ll go up and pray for him, and then to bed.—Yet ’tis a sad thing!—I have had but poor rest for a great while; nor shall have any till my fate is decided.—Hard-hearted man, he knows under what uneasiness he left me!
If God Almighty hears my yesterday’s, and indeed my hourly, prayers, the dear man will be good still; but my aching heart, every time I think what company he is in (for I find the Countess is certainly one of the party), bodes me little satisfaction.
He’s come! He’s come! now, just now, come! I will have my trial over before this night be past, if possible. I’ll go down and meet him with love unfeigned, and a duty equal to my love, although he may forget his to me. If I conquer myself on this occasion, I conquer nature, as your ladyship says: and then, by God’s grace, I can conquer every thing. They have taken their house, I suppose: but what need they, when they’ll have one in Bedfordshire, and one in Lincolnshire? But they know best. God bless him, and reform her! That’s all the harm I wish them, or will wish them!