‘The half-chawed victuals dropped from the pa’son’s mouth as if he’d been shot. “Bless my soul,” says he, “so we have! How very awkward!”
‘“It is, sir; very. Perhaps we’ve ruined the ’ooman!”
‘“Ah—to be sure—I remember! She ought to have been married before.”
‘“If anything has happened to her up in that there tower, and no doctor or nuss—”
(‘Ah—poor thing!’ sighed the women.)
‘“—’twill be a quarter-sessions matter for us, not to speak of the disgrace to the Church!”
‘“Good God, clerk, don’t drive me wild!” says the pa’son. “Why the hell didn’t I marry ’em, drunk or sober!” (Pa’sons used to cuss in them days like plain honest men.) “Have you been to the church to see what happened to them, or inquired in the village?”
‘“Not I, sir! It only came into my head a moment ago, and I always like to be second to you in church matters. You could have knocked me down with a sparrer’s feather when I thought o’t, sir; I assure ’ee you could!”
‘Well, the parson jumped up from his breakfast, and together they went off to the church.
‘“It is not at all likely that they are there now,” says Mr. Toogood, as they went; “and indeed I hope they are not. They be pretty sure to have ’scaped and gone home.”