me by the hand; for now no soul was near us.

My sister Davers, said he, (and seemed, I thought, to be as much at a
loss for words as I,) would have had you live with her; but she would not
do for you what I am resolved to do, if you continue faithful and
obliging. What say'st thou, my girl? said he, with some eagerness;
had'st thou not rather stay with me, than go to my sister Davers? He
looked so, as filled me with affrightment; I don't know how; wildly, I
thought.

I said, when I could speak, Your honour will forgive me; but as you have
no lady for me to wait upon, and my good lady has been now dead this
twelvemonth, I had rather, if it would not displease you, wait upon Lady
Davers, because--

I was proceeding, and he said, a little hastily--Because you are a little
fool, and know not what's good for yourself. I tell you I will make a
gentlewoman of you, if you be obliging, and don't stand in your own
light; and so saying, he put his arm about me, and kissed me!

Now, you will say, all his wickedness appeared plainly. I struggled and
trembled, and was so benumbed with terror, that I sunk down, not in a
fit, and yet not myself; and I found myself in his arms, quite void of
strength; and he kissed me two or three times, with frightful eagerness.
--At last I burst from him, and was getting out of the summer-house; but
he held me back, and shut the door.

I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, I'll do you no
harm, Pamela; don't be afraid of me. I said, I won't stay. You won't,
hussy! said he: Do you know whom you speak to? I lost all fear, and all