"
"But _am_ I mistaken, Pamela?--You never told me an untruth in cases
the most important to you to conceal. _Am_ I mistaken?"
"Dear Sir, if I should tell you it is _not_ Mr. Turner, you'll guess
at somebody else: and what avails all this to the matter in hand? You
are your own master, and must stand or fall by your own conscience.
God grant that _that_ may acquit you!--But my intention is not either
to accuse or upbraid you."
"But, my dear, to the fact then:--This is a malicious and a villainous
piece of intelligence, given you, perhaps, for the sake of designs and
views, that may not yet be proper to be avowed."
"By God's grace, Sir, I defy all designs and views of any one, upon my
honour!"
"But, my dear, the charge is basely false: we have not agreed upon any
such way of life."
"Well, Sir, all this only proves, that the intelligence may be a
little premature. But now let me, Sir, sit down one minute, to recover
my failing spirits, and then I'll tell you all I purpose to do, and
all I have to say, and that with as much brevity as I can, for fear
neither my head nor my heart should perform the part I have been so
long in endeavouring to prevail upon them to perform."
I sat down then, he taking out the letter, and reading it again with
much vexation and anger in his countenance; and after a few tears
and sobs, that would needs be so officious as to offer their service,
unbidden, and undesired, to introduce what I had to say; I rose up, my
feet trembling, as well as my knees; which, however, leaning against
the seats of the chairs, that made my bar, as my hand held by the
back, tolerably supported me, I cleared my voice, wiped my eyes, and
said:
"You have all the excuse, dear Mr.
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