My lord of late had said, in manner kind,
“My good friend Harry, do not think us blind!”
Letters had past, though he had nothing seen,
His careful father and my lord between;
But to what purpose was to him unknown—
It might be borough business, or their own.
Fanny, it seem’d, was now no more in dread;
If one approach’d, she neither fear’d nor fled. 460
He mused on this—“But wherefore her alarm?
She knows me better, and she dreads no harm.”