so break the seal he might in an instant ascertain, he opened the letter, and when he saw from whom it came, he at once recollected the hand.
But of all the extraordinary expressions into which a man's countenance ever yet was tortured, his were the most extraordinary, and at the same time perhaps the most rapidly varied, when he saw what that letter contained.
Having read the first sentence—which opened the whole case—he turned to the fire and violently poked it. He then read the next, and, albeit the word "stout" provoked something like a smile, while the expression of the highest confidence in his judgment was, as far as it went, agreeable, the strongest feelings he experienced—the feelings which prevailed—the feelings which were in the ascendant throughout—were those of wonder and vexation. He knew not why he should be vexed. It was amazing, certainly—at least, to him it appeared amazing—that she should have entertained the thought of entering into the marriage state: but then why should the circumstance vex him? He really couldn't tell. He didn't know. And yet one of the strongest feelings with which it had inspired him was that of vexation.
"Tut! bless my life!" he exclaimed; "who would have thought it? Tcha!—well!—married. Bless my heart alive. Tche!—What a singular thing! Married! God bless me. Tcha!—I must be off, sir!—be off! Tchu! the strangest thing I ever heard of. Tche!—I never was more surprised. Well, that does astonish me. Tcha!—Bless my soul. Well, so it is! There's no time to be lost!"
Having delivered himself fitfully thus, the reverend gentleman rang the bell, and when he had hastily directed the servant to fill his carpetbag with shirts, stockings, shoes, cravats, shaving machinery, and so on, he wrote a note to a reverend friend in the vicinity, requesting him to officiate during his absence.
Again he rang the bell.
"Tell Jones," said he, when the servant appeared, "to put the horse in. I'm going to town. Tell him to be quick, or we shall miss the coach!"
He then went up to dress; and when all had been prepared, he dashed through the village at a more rapid rate than he had ever dashed through that village before.
"Hollo!" said Obadiah, as he and Pokey saw him pass. "What's Ted up to now? There's something in the wind. You saw his carpet-bag, didn't you? What's the odds he isn't going after his Rosalie? I'll bet you what you like, she's been down here, incog!—I'll bet you what you like, he has seen her, and finding that he couldn't carry his games on in a place like this without exciting observation, sent her to London, where he is off to now! Come, I'll bet you what you like of it—come!"
"He's off somewhere," said Pokey.
"Of course, he is! And isn't it disgusting? Isn't it enough to make one's hair stand on end? I see it all clearly. It fructifies in my mind readily enough. I see the manœuvre. Yet these are the men we bow and scrape to—these are the men we pamper and praise! But just look you here, if we haven't before long a rattler, my boy, I'll eat grass
