Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded

by Samuel Richardson

You must know then, there is some foundation for saying, that her mother, at least, lives in Jamaica; for there she does live, and very happily too. For I must observe, that she suffered so much in child-bed, that nobody expected her life; and this, when she was up, made such an impression upon her, that she dreaded nothing so much as the thoughts of returning to her former fault; and, to say the truth, I had intended to make her a visit as soon as her month was well up. And so, unknown to me, she engaged herself to go to Jamaica, with two young ladies, who were born there; and were returning to their friends, after they had been four years in England for their education: and, recommending to me, by a very moving letter, her little baby, and that I would not suffer it to be called by her name, but Goodwin, that her shame might be the less known, for hers and her family’s sake; she got her friends to assign her five hundred pounds, in full of all her demands upon her family, and went up to London, and embarked, with her companions, at Gravesend, and so sailed to Jamaica; where she is since well and happily married, passing to her husband for a young widow, with one daughter, which her husband’s friends take care of, and provide for. And so you see, Pamela, that in the whole story on both sides, the truth is as much preserved as possible.

Poor lady! said I; how her story moves me! I am glad she is so happy at last!—And, my dear, said he, are you not glad she is so far off too?—As to that, sir, said I, I cannot be sorry, to be sure, as she is so happy; which she could not have been here. For, sir, I doubt you would have proceeded with your temptations, if she had not gone; and it shewed she was much in earnest to be good, that she could leave her native country, leave all her relations, leave you, whom she so well loved, leave her dear baby, and try a new fortune, in a new world, among quite strangers, and hazard the seas; and all to preserve herself from further guiltiness! Indeed, indeed, sir, said I, I bleed for what her distresses must be, in this case I am grieved for her poor mind’s remorse, through her childbed terrors, which could have so great and so worthy an effect upon her afterwards; and I honour her resolution; and would rank such a returning dear lady in the class of those who are most virtuous; and doubt not God Almighty’s mercy to her; and that her present happiness is the result of his gracious providence, blessing her penitence and reformation.—But, sir, said I, did you not once see the poor lady after her lying-in?

I did not believe her so much in earnest, answered he; and I went down to Marlborough, and heard she was gone from thence to Calne. I went to Calne, and heard she was gone to Reading, to a relation’s there. Thither I went, and heard she was gone to Oxford. I followed; and there she was; but I could not see her.

She at last received a letter from me, begging a meeting with her; for I found her departure with the ladies was resolved on, and that she was with her friends, only to take leave of them, and receive her agreed on portion: And she appointed the Saturday following, and that was Wednesday, to give me a meeting at the old place, at Woodstock.

Then, added he, I thought I was sure of her, and doubted not I should spoil her intended voyage. I set out on Thursday to Gloucester, on a party of pleasure; and on Saturday I went to the place appointed, at Woodstock: But when I came thither, I found a letter instead of my lady; and when I opened it, it was to beg my pardon for deceiving me; expressing her concern for her past fault; her affection for me; and the apprehension she had, that she should be unable to keep her good resolves, if she met me: that she had set out on the Thursday for her embarkation; for that she feared nothing else could save her; and had appointed this meeting on Saturday, at the place of her former guilt, that I might be suitably impressed upon the occasion, and pity and allow for her; and that she might get three or four days start of me, and be quite out of my reach. She recommended again, as upon the spot where the poor little one owed its being, my tenderness to it, for her sake; and that was all she had to request of me, she said; but would not forget to pray for me in all her own dangers, and in every difficulty she was going to encounter.

I wept at this moving tale. And did not this make a deep impression upon you, sir? said I. Surely such an affecting lesson as this, on the very guilty spot too, (I admire the dear lady’s pious contrivance!) must have had a great effect upon you. One would have thought, sir, it was enough to reclaim you for ever! All your naughty purposes, I make no doubt, were quite changed?

Why, my dear, said he, I was much moved, you may be sure, when I came to reflect: But, at first, I was so assured of being a successful tempter, and spoiling her voyage, that I was vexed, and much out of humour; but when I came to reflect, as I said, I was quite overcome with this instance of her prudence, her penitence, and her resolution; and more admired her than I ever had done. Yet I could not bear she should so escape me neither; so much overcome me, as it were, in an heroical bravery; and I hastened away, and got a bill of credit of Lord Davers, upon his banker in London, for five hundred pounds; and set out for that place, having called at Oxford, and got what light I could, as to where I might hear of her there.

When I arrived in town, which was not till Monday morning, I went to a place called Crosby-square, where the friends of the two ladies lived. She had set out in the flying-coach on Tuesday; got to the two ladies that very night; and, on Saturday, had set out with them for Gravesend, much about the time I was expecting her at Woodstock.

You may suppose that I was much affected, my dear, with this. However, I got my bill of credit converted into money; and I set out with my servant on Monday afternoon, and reached Gravesend that night; and there I understood that she and the two ladies had gone on board from the very inn I put up at, in the morning; and the ship waited only for the wind, which then was turning about in its favour.

I got a boat directly, and went on board the ship, and asked for Mrs. Godfrey. But judge you, my dear Pamela, her surprise and confusion, when she saw me! She had like to have fainted away. I offered any money to put off the sailing till next day, but it would not be complied with; and fain would I have got her on shore, and promised to attend her, if she would go over land, to any part of England the ship would touch at. But she was immovable.