Had she but died! But she is gone, the honour of our family contaminated, and I must look out for happiness in other worlds than here.

But my child, you saw them go off: perhaps he forced her away?
If he forced her, she may 'yet be innocent.'-- 'Ah no, Sir!' cried the child; 'he only kissed her, and called her his angel, and she wept very much, and leaned upon his arm, and they drove off very fast.'-- 'She's an ungrateful creature,' cried my wife, who could scarce speak for weeping, 'to use us thus.

She never had the least constraint put upon her affections.

The vile strumpet has basely deserted her parents without any provocation, thus to bring your grey hairs to the grave, and I must shortly follow.' In this manner that night, the first of our real misfortunes, was spent in the bitterness of complaint, and ill supported sallies of enthusiasm.
I determined, however, to find out our betrayer, wherever he was, and reproach his baseness.

The next morning we missed our wretched child at breakfast, where she used to give life and cheerfulness to us all.