And in his look the pair his tale discern’d;
Stupid in grief, it seem’d not that he knew
How he came home, or what he should pursue. 390
Fanny was gone!—her aunt was sick in bed, }
Dying, she said—none cared if she were dead; }
Her charge, his darling, was decoy’d, was fled! }
But at what time, and whither, and with whom,
None seem’d to know—all surly, shy, or dumb.
Each blamed himself, all blamed the erring maid;
They vow’d revenge, they cursed their fate, and pray’d.