in which the left arm of the youth
was placed, and taking his right arm led him to the garden.

There was a bower at the farther end, with honeysuckle, jessamine, and
creeping plants--one of those sweet retreats which humane men erect for
the accommodation of spiders.

The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot which lay in one corner,
and was about to leave the arbour. Mr. Tupman detained her, and drew her
to a seat beside him.

'Miss Wardle!' said he. The spinster aunt trembled, till some pebbles
which had accidentally found their way into the large watering-pot shook
like an infant's rattle.

'Miss Wardle,' said Mr. Tupman, 'you are an angel.'

'Mr. Tupman!' exclaimed Rachael, blushing as red as the watering-pot
itself.

'Nay,' said the eloquent Pickwickian--'I know it but too well.'

'All women are angels, they say,' murmured the lady playfully.

'Then what can you be; or to what, without presumption, can I compare
you?' replied Mr. Tupman. 'Where was the woman ever seen who resembled
you? Where else could I hope to find so rare a combination of excellence
and beauty? Where else could I seek to--Oh!' Here Mr. Tupman paused, and
pressed the hand which clasped the handle of the happy watering-pot.

The lady turned aside her head. 'Men are such deceivers,' she softly
whispered.

'They are, they are,' ejaculated Mr. Tupman; 'but not all men. There
lives at least one being who can never change--one being who would be
content to devote his whole existence to your happiness--who lives
but in your eyes--who breathes but in your smiles--who bears the heavy
burden of life itself only for you.'

'Could such an individual be found--' said the lady.

'But he CAN be found,' said the ardent Mr. Tupman, interposing. 'He
IS found. He is here, Miss Wardle.' And ere the lady was aware of his
intention, Mr. Tupman had sunk upon his knees at her feet.

'Mr. Tupman, rise,' said Rachael.

'Never!' was the valorous reply. 'Oh, Rachael!' He seized her passive
hand, and the watering-pot fell to the ground as he pressed it to his
lips.--'Oh, Rachael! say you love me.'

'Mr. Tupman,' said the spinster aunt, with averted head, 'I can hardly
speak the words; but--but--you are not wholly indifferent to me.'

Mr. Tupman no sooner heard this avowal, than he proceeded to do what his
enthusiastic emotions prompted, and what, for aught we know (for we are
but little acquainted with such matters), people so circumstanced always