“Yes, then.”—­“Well, Sir, then let me tell you, for I ask you not (it may be too bold in me to multiply questions,) that she loves you; that you correspond by letters with her—­Yes, Sir, before that letter from her ladyship came, which you received from my hand in so short and angry a manner, for fear of my curiosity to see its contents, which would have been inexcusable in me, I own, if I had.  You have talked over to her all your polygamy notions, and she seems so well convinced of them, as to declare to her noble uncle (who expostulated with her on the occasions she gave for talk,) that she had rather be a certain gentleman’s second wife, than the first to the greatest man in England:  and you are but just returned from a journey to Tunbridge, in which that lady was a party; and the motive for it, I am acquainted with, by this letter.”

He was displeased, and frowned:  I looked down, being resolved not to be terrified, if I could help it.

“I have cautioned you, Pamela——­”

“I know you have, Sir,” interrupted I; “but be pleased to answer me.  Has not the Countess taken a house or lodgings at Tunbridge?”

“She has; and what then?”

“And is her ladyship there, or in town?”

“There—­and what then?”

“Are you to go to Tunbridge, Sir, soon, or not?—­Be pleased to answer but that one question.”

“I will know,” rising up in anger, “your informants, Pamela.”

“Dear Sir, so you shall, in proper time:  you shall know all, when I am convinced, that your wrath will not be attended with bad consequences to yourself and others.  That is wholly the cause of my reserve in this point; for I have not had a thought, since I have been yours, that I wished to be concealed from you.—­But your knowledge of the informants makes nothing at all as to the truth of the information—­Nor will I press you too home.  I doubt not, you are soon to return to Tunbridge?”

“I am, and what then?—­Must the consequence be crime enough to warrant your jealousy?”

“Dear Sir, don’t be so angry,” still looking down; for I durst not trust myself to look up.  “I don’t do this, as your letter charged me, in a spirit of matrimonial recrimination:  if you don’t tell me, that you see the Countess with pleasure, I ask it not of you; nor have I anything to say by way of upbraiding.  ’Tis my misfortune, that she is too lovely, and too attractive:  and it is the less wonder, that a fine young gentleman as you are, and a fine young lady as she is, should engage one another’s affections.

“I knew every thing, except what this letter which you shall read presently, communicates, when you brought the two noble sisters to visit me:  hence proceeded my grief; and should I, Sir, have deserved to be what I am, if I was not grieved?  Religion has helped me, and God has answered my supplications, and enabled me to act this new uncommon part before you at this imaginary bar.  You shall see, Sir, that as, on one hand, I want not, as I said before, to move your passions in my favour; so, on the other, I shall not be terrified by your displeasure, dreaded by me as it used to be, and as it will be again, the moment that my raised spirits sink down to their usual level, or are diverted from this my long meditated purpose, to tell you all my mind.