“I will not, too inadvertent, and undistinguishing Pamela, keep you long in suspense, for the sake of a circumstance, that, on this occasion, ought to give you as much joy, as it has, till now, given me—­since it becomes an advocate in your favour, when otherwise you might expect very severe treatment.  Know then, that the letter you gave me before you went out, is a letter from a friend, a neighbour, a worthy neighbour, complaining of your behaviour to him;—­no other than Sir Simon Darnford” (for I would not amuse her too much), “a gentleman I must always respect, and whom, as my friend, I expected you should:  since, by the value a wife expresses for one esteemed by her husband, whether she thinks so well of him herself, or not, a man ought always to judge of the sincerity of her regards to himself.”

She raised her head at once on this:—­“Thank Heaven,” said she, “it is no worse!—­I was at my wit’s end almost, in apprehension:  but I know how this must be.  Dear Sir, how could you frighten me so?—­I know how all this is!—­I can now look you in the face, and hear all that Sir Simon can charge me with!  For I am sure, I have not so affronted him as to make him angry indeed.  And truly” (ran she on, secure of pardon as she seemed to think), “I should respect Sir Simon not only as your friend, but on his own account, if he was not so sad a rake at a time of life—­”

Then I interrupted her, you must needs think.  Sir Simon; for how could I bear to hear my worthy friend so freely treated!  “How now, Pamela!” said I; “and is it thus, by repeating your fault, that you atone for it?  Do you think I can bear to hear my friend so freely treated?”

“Indeed,” said she, “I do respect Sir Simon very much as your friend, permit me to repeat; but cannot for his wilful failings.  Would it not be, in some measure, to approve of faulty conversation, if one can hear it, and not discourage it, when the occasion comes in so pat?—­And, indeed, I was glad of an opportunity,” continued she, “to give him a little rub; I must needs own it:  but if it displeases you, or has made him angry in earnest, I am sorry for it, and will be less bold for the future.”

“Read then,” said I, “the heavy charge, and I’ll return instantly to hear your answer to it.”  So I went from her, for a few minutes.  But, would you believe it, Sir Simon? she seemed, on my return, very little concerned at your just complaints.  What self-justifying minds have the meekest of these women!—­Instead of finding her in repentant tears, as one would expect, she took your angry letter for a jocular one; and I had great difficulty to convince her of the heinousness of her fault, or the reality of your resentment.  Upon which, being determined to have justice done to my friend, and a due sense of her own great error impressed upon her, I began thus: