do. He jumped up, and, throwing his arm round the neck of the spinster
aunt, imprinted upon her lips numerous kisses, which after a due show of
struggling and resistance, she received so passively, that there is no
telling how many more Mr. Tupman might have bestowed, if the lady had
not given a very unaffected start, and exclaimed in an affrighted tone--

'Mr. Tupman, we are observed!--we are discovered!'

Mr. Tupman looked round. There was the fat boy, perfectly motionless,
with his large circular eyes staring into the arbour, but without the
slightest expression on his face that the most expert physiognomist
could have referred to astonishment, curiosity, or any other known
passion that agitates the human breast. Mr. Tupman gazed on the fat boy,
and the fat boy stared at him; and the longer Mr. Tupman observed the
utter vacancy of the fat boy's countenance, the more convinced he became
that he either did not know, or did not understand, anything that had
been going forward. Under this impression, he said with great firmness--

'What do you want here, Sir?'

'Supper's ready, sir,' was the prompt reply.

'Have you just come here, sir?' inquired Mr. Tupman, with a piercing
look.

'Just,' replied the fat boy.

Mr. Tupman looked at him very hard again; but there was not a wink in
his eye, or a curve in his face.

Mr. Tupman took the arm of the spinster aunt, and walked towards the
house; the fat boy followed behind.

'He knows nothing of what has happened,'he whispered.

'Nothing,' said the spinster aunt.

There was a sound behind them, as of an imperfectly suppressed chuckle.
Mr. Tupman turned sharply round. No; it could not have been the fat boy;
there was not a gleam of mirth, or anything but feeding in his whole
visage.

'He must have been fast asleep,' whispered Mr. Tupman.

'I have not the least doubt of it,' replied the spinster aunt.

They both laughed heartily.

Mr. Tupman was wrong. The fat boy, for once, had not been fast asleep.
He was awake--wide awake--to what had been going forward.

The supper passed off without any attempt at a general conversation. The
old lady had gone to bed; Isabella Wardle devoted herself exclusively to
Mr. Trundle; the spinster's attentions were reserved for Mr. Tupman;
and Emily's thoughts appeared to be engrossed by some distant
object--possibly they were with the absent Snodgrass.

Eleven--twelve--one o'clock had struck, and the gentlemen had not
arrived. Co