MY DEAR LADY,
I will now pursue my last affecting subject; for the visit is over; but a sad situation I am in with Mr. B. for all that: but, bad as it is, I'll try to forget it, till I come to it in course.
At four in the afternoon Mr. B. came in to receive his guests, whom he expected at five. He came up to me. I had just closed my last letter; but put it up, and set before me your ladyship's play subjects.
"So, Pamela!—How do you do now?"
Your ladyship may guess, by what I wrote before, that I could not give any extraordinary account of myself—"As well—as well, Sir, as possible;" half out of breath.
"You give yourself strange melancholy airs of late, my dear. All that cheerfulness, which used to delight me whenever I saw you, I am sorry for it, is quite vanished. You and I must shortly have a little serious talk together."
"When you please. Sir. I believe it is only being used to this smoky thick air of London!—I shall be better when you carry me into the country. I dare say I shall. But I never was in London so long before, you know, Sir."
"All in good time, Pamela!—But is this the best appearance you choose to make, to receive such guests?"
"If it displeases you. Sir, I will dress otherwise in a minute."
"You look well in any thing. But I thought you'd have been better dressed. Yet it would never have less become you; for of late your eyes have lost that brilliancy that used to strike me with a lustre, much surpassing that of the finest diamonds."