Before two months had passed he was engaged to the parson's daughter.

Before the full quarter had flown by, he and the parson's daughter were man and wife; and in five months from the time of his first appearance in the Dorsetshire parish, he had flown from his creditors, leaving behind him his three horses, his two grooms, his gig, his wife, and his little boy.
The Dorsetshire neighbours, and especially the Dorsetshire ladies, had at first been loud in their envious exclamations as to Miss Wainwright's luck.

The parson and the parson's wife, and poor Mary Wainwright herself, had, according to the sayings of that moment prevalent in the county, used most unjustifiable wiles in trapping this poor rich stranger.

Miss Wainwright, as they all declared, had not clothes to her back when she went to him.

The matter had been got up and managed in most indecent hurry, so as to rob the poor fellow of any chance of escape.