' 'Oh, Mr.
Jingle, what CAN I say!' exclaimed the spinster aunt, in another flood
of despair.

'Say he dreamt it,' replied Mr. Jingle coolly.

A ray of comfort darted across the mind of the spinster aunt at this
suggestion. Mr. Jingle perceived it, and followed up his advantage.

'Pooh, pooh!--nothing more easy--blackguard boy--lovely woman--fat boy
horsewhipped--you believed--end of the matter--all comfortable.'

Whether the probability of escaping from the consequences of this
ill-timed discovery was delightful to the spinster's feelings, or
whether the hearing herself described as a 'lovely woman' softened the
asperity of her grief, we know not. She blushed slightly, and cast a
grateful look on Mr. Jingle.

That insinuating gentleman sighed deeply, fixed his eyes on the spinster
aunt's face for a couple of minutes, started melodramatically, and
suddenly withdrew them.

'You seem unhappy, Mr. Jingle,' said the lady, in a plaintive voice.
'May I show my gratitude for your kind interference, by inquiring into
the cause, with a view, if possible, to its removal?'

'Ha!' exclaimed Mr. Jingle, with another start--'removal! remove my
unhappiness, and your love bestowed upon a man who is insensible to the
blessing--who even now contemplates a design upon the affections of the
niece of the creature who--but no; he is my friend; I will not expose
his vices. Miss Wardle--farewell!' At the conclusion of this address,
the most consecutive he was ever known to utter, Mr. Jingle applied
to his eyes the remnant of a handkerchief before noticed, and turned
towards the door.

'Stay, Mr. Jingle!' said the spinster aunt emphatically. 'You have made
an allusion to Mr. Tupman--explain it.'

'Never!' exclaimed Jingle, with a professional (i.e., theatrical) air.
'Never!' and, by way of showing that he had no desire to be questioned
further, he drew a chair close to that of the spinster aunt and sat
down.

'Mr. Jingle,' said the aunt, 'I entreat--I implore you, if there is any
dreadful mystery connected with Mr. Tupman, reveal it.'

'Can I,' said Mr. Jingle, fixing his eyes on the aunt's face--'can I
see--lovely creature--sacrificed at the shrine--heartless avarice!' He
appeared to be struggling with various conflicting emotions for a few
seconds, and then said in a low voice--

'Tupman only wants your money.'

'The wretch!' exclaimed the spinster, with energetic indignation. (Mr.
Jingle's doubts were resolved. She HAD money