“Upon my word, there has been but little time lost! And you have received notice to quit?”
“Yes, in a letter from the new incumbent, which I found lying on my study table when I came in from the church.”
“Who is he, then?”
“‘Who is he?’ That is the very worst of all. Do you remember that fellow, Cassius Leegh, who used to come to Medge parsonage long ago and fasten on us for weeks?”
“I should think so!”
“He was the son of a small shopkeeper in the borough, London, studied for the ministry as a matter of pride and ambition; but, morally and spiritually, as unfit for the pulpit as a man can well be! I do not know how he has contrived to get himself inducted into this living, except upon the basis that he and the new squire are birds of a feather!”
“Stop!” exclaimed Hetty as a sudden light dawned on her mind—“I understand it all perfectly now! Don’t you know that this man, this so-called new squire of Haymore, married in New York a young lady by the name of Leegh?”
“I paid no attention to the name of the lady,” replied the curate.
“Well, naturally I did, being a woman, you know. And the bride’s name was Leegh! And surely you have heard Cassius Leegh speak of his beautiful sister Lamia, who was taken up by a wealthy New York family?”
“Why—yes—certainly!”