[Footnote 8: Niece of Sir Andrew Cathcait, of Carleton. A melancholy
interest attaches to her subsequent history. Burns's prayers for her
happiness were unavailing.]

* * * * *

XIV.--TO MISS ----, AYRSHIRE.[9]

[1785.]

MY DEAR COUNTRYWOMAN,--I am so impatient to show you that I am once more
at peace with you, that I send you the book I mentioned, directly,
rather than wait the uncertain time of my seeing you. I am afraid I have
mislaid or lost Collins's Poems, which I promised to Miss Irvin. If I
can find them I will forward them by you; if not, you must apologise
for me.

I know you will laugh at it when I tell you that your piano and you
together have played the deuce somehow about my heart. My breast has
been widowed these many months, and I thought myself proof against the
fascinating witchcraft; but I am afraid you will "feelingly convince me
what I am.". I say, I am afraid, because I am not sure what is the
matter with me. I have one miserable bad symptom,--when you whisper, or
look kindly to another, it gives me a draught of damnation. I have a
kind of wayward wish to be with you ten minutes by yourself, though what
I would say, Heaven above knows, for I am sure I know not. I have no
formed design in all this; but just, in the nakedness of my heart, write
you down a mere matter-of-fact story. You may perhaps give yourself airs
of distance on this, and that will completely cure me; but I wish you