im as he lay a dyeing yt wou'd doe some thing for
you. You have nott desarv'd itt, but I am sory to here of your
troble. If you will sende youre childe to mee, I will doe so mutch
for yow as too brede her upp with my granedor Roda, yowr sistar
Catterin's child. I wou'd not have yow mistak my meaneing, wch is
nott that shee shou'd be plac'd on a levell with her cosin, for Roada
is a jantlewoman, and yt is moar than she can say. But to be Rodes
wating mayd, and serve her in her chamber, and bere her cumpany when
she hath need. I will give the girle too sutes of close by the yere,
and some tims a shillinge in her pockit, and good lodgeing and enow of
victle. And if shee be obediant and humbel, and order her self as I
wou'd she may, I will besyde al this give her if shee mary her weding
close and her weddying diner,--yt is, if she mary to my minde,--and if
noe, thenn shee may go whissel for anie thing I will doe for her. It
is moar than she cou'd look for anie whear els. You will bee a foole
to say Noe.

"P. Furnival.

"Lett the girle come when you goe to your place. There is a carrer
goes from Bristoll to Teukesburry, and a mann with an horse shal mete
her at the Bell."

Be not horrified, accomplished modern reader, at Madam's orthography.
She spelt fairly well--for a lady in 1712.

An interval of about two months followed, and then came another letter
from Mrs Latrobe. She wrote in a most grateful strain; she was
evidently even more surprised than pleased with the offer for Phoebe.
There was a reference of penitent love to her father; a promise that
Phoebe should be at Cressingham on or as near as possible to the
twenty-ninth of January; and warm thanks for her mother's undeserved
kindness, more especially for the consideration which had prompted the
promise that Phoebe should be met at Tewkesbury, instead of being left
to find her way alone in the dark through the two miles which lay
between that town and Cressingham.

So, on the afternoon of that twenty-ninth of January, an hour after the
man and horses had started, Madam and Rhoda sat in the Abbey parlour,
sipping their tea, and both meditating on the subject of Phoebe.

Madam, as became a widow, was attired in black. A stiff black bombazine
petticoat was surmounted by a black silk gown adorned with flowers in
raised embroidery, and the train of the gown was pulled through the
pocket-hole of the petticoat. At th