_ far more truly and forcibly
might it have been said or sung, than of the "Lassie wi' the Lint-white
Locks"--

"She talked, she smiled, my heart she wiled,
She charmed my soul, I wat na hoo;
But aye the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonny blue."

Phebe, by my own arrangement with Lady D----, was not exposed to any
intimacy with the servants, male or female. She had her own apartment
and table; and all the menial duties were performed to her as regularly
as to any branch of the family. It was soon after my return from a three
weeks' visit at Rosehall, that I received the following letter from
Phebe. I got it at the post-office, unknown to any of my family; and I
kept it, as was my custom when I had anything agreeable to communicate,
till after dinner. The board having been cleared, and a tumbler of warm
toddy made, my wife's single glass having been filled out, and my
daughters having turned them all ear, I proceeded to read the following
maiden epistle of Phebe Fortune:--

"Dear, dear Papa, and ever dear Mamma, and all my own Sisters
dear--I am happy here; Lady D---- is so kind to me; and Lord D----
looks very kind too, though he has not spoken to me yet--but then
you see he is always engaged; and the honourable young ladies--but
I do not think they are quite so kind; and they are so pretty too,
and so happy looking! Oh, I wish they would like me! If they would
only speak to me now and then as they pass me on the stair; but
they only stop and laugh to one another, and then they toss their
heads; and I can hear them say something about 'upsetting,' and
'mamma's whim, and papa's absurdity.' I'm sure--I'm sure, my dear
parents--(for, alas! I have none other, though I dream sometimes
that I have, and I feel so happy and delighted, that I always awake
crying)--but what was I going to say?--you know I never wrote any
letters before, and you will excuse this I know--I could not, I am
sure, speak of whim or absurdity in regard to you, my dear
benefactors. But I will try never to mind it. Lady D---- is so very
kind. I sometimes go out with the little dogs, Poodle and Clara;
they are such dear pets, I could take them, and do often take them
to my bosom. And then, the other day, when I was sitting playing
with Clara and Poodle, beneath the elm tree, the gardener's son
passed me, and--no