I am just now quite astonished!—I hope all is right!—but I have a strange turn to acquaint you with. Mr. Williams and Mrs. Jewkes came to me both together; he in ecstacies, she with a strange fluttering sort of air. Well, said she, Mrs. Pamela, I give you joy! I give you joy!—Let nobody speak but me! Then she sat down, as out of breath, puffing and blowing. Why, every thing turns as I said it would! said she: Why, there is to be a match between you and Mr. Williams! Well, I always thought it. Never was so good a master!—Go to, go to, naughty, mistrustful Mrs. Pamela; nay, Mrs. Williams, said the forward creature, I may as good call you: you ought on your knees to beg his pardon a thousand times for mistrusting him.
She was going on; but I said, Don’t torture me thus, I beseech you, Mrs. Jewkes. Let me know all!—Ah! Mr. Williams, said I, take care, take care!—Mistrustful again! said she: Why, Mr. Williams, shew her your letter, and I will shew her mine: they were brought by the same hand.
I trembled at the thoughts of what this might mean; and said, You have so surprised me, that I cannot stand, nor hear, nor read! Why did you come up in such a manner to attack such weak spirits? said he, to Mrs. Jewkes, Shall we leave our letters with Mrs. Pamela, and let her recover from her surprise? Ay, said she, with all my heart; here is nothing but flaming honour and good will! And so saying, they left me their letters and withdrew.
My heart was quite sick with the surprise, so that I could not presently read them, notwithstanding my impatience; but, after a while, recovering, I found the contents thus strange and unexpected:
‘MR. WILLIAMS,
‘The death of Mr. Fownes has now given me the opportunity I have long wanted, to make you happy, and that in a double respect: For I shall soon put you in possession of his living; and, if you have the art of making yourself well received, of one of the loveliest wives in England. She has not been used (as she has reason to think) according to her merit; but when she finds herself under the protection of a man of virtue and probity, and a happy competency to support life in the manner to which she has been of late years accustomed, I am persuaded she will forgive those seeming hardships which have paved the way to so happy a lot, as I hope it will be to you both. I have only to account for and excuse the odd conduct I have been guilty of, which I shall do when I see you: but as I shall soon set out for London, I believe it will not be yet this month. Mean time, if you can prevail with Pamela, you need not suspend for that your mutual happiness; only let me have notice of it first, and that she approves of it; which ought to be, in so material a point, entirely at her option; as I assure you, on the other hand, I would have it at yours, that nothing may be wanting to complete your happiness. ‘I am your humble servant.’
Was ever the like heard?—Lie still, my throbbing heart, divided as thou art, between thy hopes and thy fears!—But this is the letter Mrs. Jewkes left with me:
‘MRS. JEWKES,
‘You have been very careful and diligent in the task, which, for reasons I shall hereafter explain, I had imposed upon you. Your trouble is now almost at an end; for I have written my intentions to Mr. Williams so particularly, that I need say the less here, because he will not scruple, I believe, to let you know the contents of my letter. I have only one thing to mention, that if you find what I have hinted to him in the least measure disagreeable to either, you assure them both, that they are at entire liberty to pursue their own inclinations. I hope you continue your civilities to the mistrustful, uneasy Pamela, who now will begin to think better of hers and ‘Your friend, etc.’
I had hardly time to transcribe these letters, though, writing so much, I write pretty fast, before they both came up again in high spirits; and Mr. Williams said, I am glad at my heart, madam, that I was beforehand in my declarations to you: this generous letter has made me the happiest man on earth; and, Mrs. Jewkes, you may be sure, that if I can procure this fair one’s consent, I shall think myself—I interrupted the good man, and said, Ah! Mr. Williams, take care, take care; don’t let—There I stopt; and Mrs. Jewkes said, Still mistrustful!—I never saw the like in my life!—But I see, said she, I was not wrong, while my old orders lasted, to be wary of you both—I should have had a hard task to prevent you, I find; for, as the saying is, Nought can restrain consent of twain.