The poor girl is full of sorrow and repentance, and would fain make up with her lover; but he feels his security, and stands aloof.  In this he is doubtless encouraged by his mother, who is continually reminding him what he owes to his family; for this same family pride seems doomed to be the eternal bane of lovers.

As I hate to see a pretty face in trouble, I have felt quite concerned for the luckless Phoebe, ever since I heard her story.  It is a sad thing to be thwarted in love at any time, but particularly so at this tender season of the year, when every living thing, even to the very butterfly, is sporting with its mate; and the green fields, and the budding groves, and the singing of the birds, and the sweet smell of the flowers, are enough to turn the head of a love-sick girl.  I am told that the coolness of young Ready-Money lies very heavy at poor Phoebe’s heart.  Instead of singing about the house as formerly, she goes about pale and sighing, and is apt to break into tears when her companions are full of merriment.

Mrs. Hannah, the vestal gentlewoman of my Lady Lillycraft, has had long talks and walks with Phoebe, up and down the avenue of an evening; and has endeavoured to squeeze some of her own verjuice into the other’s milky nature.  She speaks with contempt and abhorrence of the whole sex, and advises Phoebe to despise all the men as heartily as she does.  But Phoebe’s loving temper is not to be curdled; she has no such thing as hatred or contempt for mankind in her whole composition.  She has all the simple fondness of heart of poor, weak, loving woman; and her only thoughts at present are how to conciliate and reclaim her wayward swain.

The spells and love-charms, which are matters of sport to the other domestics, are serious concerns with this love-stricken damsel.  She is continually trying her fortune in a variety of ways.  I am told that she has absolutely fasted for six Wednesdays and three Fridays successively, having understood that it was a sovereign charm to insure being married to one’s liking within the year.  She carries about, also, a lock of her sweetheart’s hair, and a riband he once gave her, being a mode of producing constancy in a lover.  She even went so far as to try her fortune by the moon, which has always had much to do with lovers’ dreams and fancies.  For this purpose, she went out in the night of the full moon, knelt on a stone in the meadow, and repeated the old traditional rhyme: 

  “All hail to thee, moon, all hail to thee;
  I pray thee, good moon, now show to me
  The youth who my future husband shall be.”

When she came back to the house, she was faint and pale, and went immediately to bed.  The next morning she told the porter’s wife that she had seen some one close by the hedge in the meadow, which she was sure was young Tibbets; at any rate, she had dreamt of him all night; both of which, the old dame assured her, were most happy signs.  It has since turned out that the person in the meadow was old Christy, the huntsman, who was walking his nightly rounds with the great stag-hound; so that Phoebe’s faith in the charm is completely shaken.