Rashleigh.
She listened to every word that he spoke as though they were the fabled
pearls and diamonds of the fairy tale that dropped from his lips.
"Positively, Miss Dane," Hugh Ingelow remarked in his lazy voice, "it is
love at first sight with the Reverend Raymond. Think better of it, pray;
he's fat and forty, and has one wife already."
"Hush!" said Mollie, imperiously.
And Mr. Ingelow, stroking his mustache meditatively, hushed, and
listened to a story the Reverend Mr. Rashleigh was about to relate.
"So extraordinary a story," he said, glancing around him, "that I can
hardly realize it myself or credit my own senses. It is the only
adventure of my life, and I am free to confess I wish it may remain so.
"It is about three weeks ago. I was sitting, one stormy night--Tuesday
night it was--in my study, in after-dinner mood, enjoying the luxury
of a good fire and a private clerical cigar, when a young
woman--respectable-looking young person--entered, and informed me that a
sickly relative, from whom I have expectations, was dying, and wished to
see me immediately.
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