But I am running on in a strain that shews my impatience, rather than my resignation; yet some struggles must be allowed me:  I could not have loved, as I love, if I could easily part with my interest in so beloved a husband.—­For my interest I will part with, and sooner die, than live with a gentleman who has another wife, though I was the first.  Let countesses, if they can, and ladies of birth, choose to humble themselves to this baseness.  The low-born Pamela cannot stoop to it.  Pardon me; you know I only write this with a view to this poor lady’s answer to her noble uncle, of which you wrote me word.

FRIDAY

Is now concluding.  I hope I am much calmer.  For, being disappointed, in all likelihood, in twenty agreeable schemes and projects, I am now forming new ones, with as much pleasure to myself as I may.

I am thinking to try to get good Mrs. Jervis with me.  You must not, Madam, be too much concerned for me.  After a while, I shall be no unhappy person; for though I was thankful for my splendid fortunes, and should have been glad, to be sure I should, of continuing in them, with so dear a gentleman; yet a high estate had never such dazzling charms with me as it has with some:  if it had, I could not have resisted so many temptations, possibly, as God enabled me to resist.

SATURDAY NIGHT

Is now come.  ’Tis nine, and no Mr. B.—­“O why,” as Deborah makes the mother of Sisera say, “is his chariot so long in coming?  Why tarry the wheels of his chariot?”

I have this note now at eleven o’clock: 

“MY DEAREST PAMELA,

“I dispatch the messenger, lest, expecting me this night, you should be uneasy.  I shall not be with you till Monday, when I hope to dine with my dearest life. Ever affectionately yours.”

So I’ll go up and pray for him, and then to bed.—­Yet ’tis a sad thing!—­I have had but poor rest for a great while; nor shall have any till my fate is decided.—­Hard-hearted man, he knows under what uneasiness he left me!

MONDAY, ELEVEN.

If God Almighty hears my yesterday’s, and indeed my hourly, prayers, the dear man will be good still; but my aching heart, every time I think what company he is in (for I find the Countess is certainly one of the party), bodes me little satisfaction.

He’s come!  He’s come! now, just now, come!  I will have my trial over before this night be past, if possible.  I’ll go down and meet him with love unfeigned, and a duty equal to my love, although he may forget his to me.  If I conquer myself on this occasion, I conquer nature, as your ladyship says:  and then, by God’s grace, I can conquer every thing.  They have taken their house, I suppose:  but what need they, when they’ll have one in Bedfordshire, and one in Lincolnshire?  But they know best.  God bless him, and reform her!  That’s all the harm I wish them, or will wish them!