I never will look more into your face
Till God says, “Look!” I charge you, seek me not,
Nor vex yourself with lamentable thoughts
That peradventure I have come to grief.
Be sure I’m well, I’m merry, I’m at ease,
But such a long way, long way, long way off,
I think you’ll find me sooner in my grave,
And that’s my choice—observe.
E. B. Browning.
Fay had made up her mind to be lost.