She
was, I am told, the pet of her poor mother, who was proud of the
beauty of her child, and brought her up more tenderly than a village
girl ought to be; and ever since she has been left an orphan, the good
ladies at the Hall have completed the softening and spoiling of her.
I have recently observed her holding long conferences in the
church-yard, and up and down one of the lanes near the village, with
Slingsby, the schoolmaster. I at first thought the pedagogue might be
touched with the tender malady so prevalent in these parts of late;
but I did him injustice. Honest Slingsby, it seems, was a friend and
crony of her late father, the parish clerk; and is on intimate terms
with the Tibbets family. Prompted, therefore, by his good-will towards
all parties, and secretly instigated, perhaps, by the managing dame
Tibbets, he has undertaken to talk with Phoebe upon the subject. He
gives her, however, but little encouragement. Slingsby has a
formidable opinion of the aristocratical feeling of old Ready-Money,
and thinks, if Phoebe were even to make the matter up with the son,
she would find the father totally hostile to the match. The poor
damsel, therefore, is reduced almost to despair; and Slingsby, who is
too good-natured not to sympathize in her distress, has advised her to
give up all thoughts of young Jack, and has proposed as a substitute
his learned coadjutor, the prodigal son.
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