She took the glass, and said, God forgive you, wicked wretch, for your usage of me this day!—This is a little as it used to be!—I once had your love;—and now it is changed; and for whom? that vexes me! And wept so, she was forced to set down the glass.
You don’t do well, said he. You neither treat me like your brother nor a gentleman; and if you would suffer me, I would love you as well as ever.—But for a woman of sense and understanding, and a fine-bred woman, as I once thought my sister, you act quite a childish part. Come, added he, and held the glass to her lips, let your brother, that you once loved, prevail on you to drink this glass of wine.—She then drank it. He kissed her, and said, Oh! how passion deforms the noblest minds! You have lost a good deal of that loveliness that used to adorn my sister. And let me persuade you to compose yourself, and be my sister again!—For Lady Davers is, indeed, a fine woman; and has a presence as majestic for a lady, as her dear brother has for a gentleman.
He then sat down between us again, and said, when the second course came in, Let Abraham come in and wait. I touched his toe again; but he minded it not; and I saw he was right; for her ladyship began to recollect herself, and did not behave half so ill before the servants, as she had done; and helped herself with some little freedom; but she could not forbear a strong sigh and a sob now and then. She called for a glass of the same wine she had drank before. Said he, Shall I help you again, Lady Davers?—and rose, at the same time, and went to the sideboard, and filled her a glass. Indeed, said she, I love to be soothed by my brother!—Your health, sir!
Said my master to me, with great sweetness, My dear, now I’m up, I’ll fill for you!—I must serve both sisters alike! She looked at the servant, as if he were a little check upon her, and said to my master, How now, sir!—Not that you know of. He whispered her, Don’t shew any contempt before my servants to one I have so deservedly made their mistress. Consider, ’tis done.—Ay, said she, that’s the thing that kills me.
He gave me a glass: My good lady’s health, sir, said I.—That won’t do, said she, leaning towards me, softly: and was going to say wench, or creature, or some such word. And my master, seeing Abraham look towards her, her eyes being red and swelled, said, Indeed, sister, I would not vex myself about it, if I was you. About what? said she. Why, replied he, about your lord’s not coming down, as he had promised. He sat down, and she tapped him on the shoulder: Ah! wicked one, said she, nor will that do neither!—Why, to be sure, added he, it would vex a lady of your sense and merit to be slighted, if it was so; but I am sure my lord loves you, as well as you love him; and you know not what may have happened.
She shook her head, and said, That’s like your art!—This makes one amazed you should be so caught!—Who, my lord caught! said he: No, no! he’ll have more wit than so! But I never heard you were jealous before. Nor, said he, have you any reason to think so now!—Honest friend, you need not wait, said she; my woman will help us to what we want. Yes, let him, replied he. Abraham, fill me a glass. Come, said my master, Lord Davers to you, madam: I hope he’ll take care he is not found out!—You’re very provoking, brother, said she. I wish you were as good as Lord Davers.—But don’t carry your jest too far. Well, said he, ’tis a tender point, I own. I’ve done.
By these kind managements the dinner passed over better than I expected. And when the servants were withdrawn, my master said, still keeping his place between us, I have a question to ask you, Lady Davers, and that is, If you’ll bear me company to Bedfordshire? I was intending to set out thither to-morrow, but I’ll tarry your pleasure, if you’ll go with me.
Is thy wife, as thou callest her, to go along with thee, friend? said she. Yes, to be sure, answered he, my dear Quaker sister; and took her hand, and smiled. And would’st have me parade it with her on the road?—Hey?—And make one to grace her retinue?—Hey? Tell me how thoud’st chalk it out, if I would do as thou would’st have me, honest friend?
He clasped his arms about her, and kissed her: You are a dear saucy sister, said he; but I must love you!—Why, I’ll tell you how I’d have it. Here shall you, and my Pamela—Leave out my, I desire you, if you’d have me sit patiently. No, replied he, I can’t do that. Here shall you, and my Pamela, go together in your chariot, if you please; and she will then appear as one of your retinue; and your nephew and I will sometimes ride, and sometimes go into my chariot, to your woman.
Should’st thou like this, creature? said she to me.—If your ladyship think it not too great an honour for me, madam, said I. Yes, replied she, but my ladyship does think it would be too great an honour.