“Why, so you may be, my dear, in every thing almost.  But I don’t love to speak twice my mind on the same subject; you know I don’t! and you have really disputed this point with me five or six times; insomuch, that I wondered what was come to my dearest.”

“I thought, Sir, you would have distinguished between a command where my conscience was concerned, and a common point:  you know.  Sir, I never had any will but yours in common points.  But, indeed, you make me fearful because my task is rendered too difficult for my own weak judgment.”

I was silent, but by my tears.

“Now, I doubt, Pamela, your spirit is high.  You won’t speak, because you are out of humour at what I say.  I will have no sullen reserves, my dearest.  What means that heaving sob?  I know that this is the time with your sex, when, saddened with your apprehensions, and indulged because of them, by the fond husband, it is needful, for both their sakes, to watch over the changes of their temper.  For ladies in your way are often like encroaching subjects; apt to extend what they call their privileges, on the indulgence shewed them; and the husband never again recovers the ascendant he had before.”

“You know these things better than I, Mr. B. But I had no intention to invade your province, or to go out of my own.  Yet I thought I had a right to a little free will, on some greater occasions.”

“Why, so you have, my dear.  But you must not plead in behalf of your own will, and refuse to give due weight to mine.”  “Well, Sir, I must needs say, I have one advantage above others of my sex; for if wives, in my circumstances, are apt to grow upon indulgence, I am very happy that your kind and watchful care will hinder me from falling into that error.”

He gave me a gentle tap on the neck:  “Let me beat my beloved sauce-box,” said he:  “is it thus you rally my watchful care over you for your own good?  But tell me, truly, Pamela, are you not a little sullen?  Look up to me, my dear.  Are you not?”

“I believe I am; but ’tis but very little, Sir.  It will soon go off.  Please to let me withdraw, that I may take myself to task about it;-for at present, I know not what to do, because I did not expect the displeasure I have incurred.”

“Is it not the same thing,” replied he, “if this our first quarrel end here, without your withdrawing?—­I forgive you heartily, my Pamela; and give me one kiss, and I will think of your saucy appeal against me no more.”

“I will comply with your condition, Sir; but I have a great mind to be saucy.  I wish you would let me for this once.”

“What would you say, my dearest?—­Be saucy then, as you call it, as saucy as you can.”

“Why; then I am a little sullen at present, that I am; and I am not fully convinced, whether it must be I that forgive you, or you me.  For, indeed, if I can recollect, I cannot think my fault so great in this point, that was a point of conscience to me, as (pardon me Sir), to stand in need of your forgiveness.”