All this was poured into my sympathetic ear, and I say
sympathetic in all sincerity; for, although I may occasionally
treat Miss Liston's literary efforts with less than proper
respect, she herself was my friend, and the conviction under
which she was now living would, I knew, unless it were
justified, bring her into much of that unhappiness in which one
generally found her heroine plunged about the end of Volume II.
The heroine generally got out all right, and the knowledge that
she would enabled the reader to preserve cheerfulness. But would
poor little Miss Liston get out? I was none too sure of it.
Suddenly a change came in the state of affairs. Pamela produced
it. It must have struck her that the increasing intimacy of Miss
Liston and Chillington might become something other than "funny."
To put it briefly and metaphorically, she whistled her dog back
to her heels. I am not skilled in understanding or describing
the artifices of ladies; but even I saw the transformation in
Pamela. She put forth her strength and put on her prettiest
gowns; she refused to take her place in the sea-saw of society
which Chillington had recently established for his pleasure. If
he spent an hour with Miss Liston, Pamela would have nothing
of him for a day; she met his attentions with scorn unless they
were undivided. Chillington seemed at first puzzled; I believe
that he never regarded his talks with Miss Liston in other than a
business point of view, but directly he understood that Pamela
claimed him, and that she was prepared, in case he did not obey
her call, to establish a grievance against him, he lost no time
in manifesting his obedience.
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