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gitation arisenfrom an amiable and feminine sensibility which would have beenequally irrepressible in any case; or had it been called forth by amore ardent and passionate feeling,mercurial vapor, which he, of all men living,could alone awaken? These were the doubts which racked hisbrain as he lay extended on the sofa; these were the doubts whichhe determined should be at once and for ever resolved.
　　It was evening. Isabella and Emily had strolled out with Mr.
　　Trundle; the deaf old lady had fallen asleep in her chair; thesnoring of the fat boy, penetrated in a low and monotonous soundfrom the distant kitchen; the buxom servants were lounging at theside door, enjoying the pleasantness of the hour, and the delightsof a flirtation, on first principles, with certain unwieldy animalsattached to the farm; and there sat the interesting pair, uncaredfor by all,adidas F50, caring for none, and dreaming only of themselves; therethey sat, in short, like a pair of carefully-folded kid gloves―boundup in each other.
　　‘I have forgotten my flowers,�?said the spinster aunt.
　　‘Water them now,�?said Mr. Tupman, in accents of persuasion.
　　‘You will take cold in the evening air,�?urged the spinster auntaffectionately.
　　‘No, no,�?said Mr. Tupman, rising; ‘it will do me good. Let meaccompany you.�?
　　The lady paused to adjust the sling in which the left arm of theyouth 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 whichhumane men erect for the accommodation of spiders.
　　The spinster aunt took up a large watering-pot which lay in onecorner, and was about to leave the arbour. Mr. Tupman detainedher, and drew her to a seat beside him.
　　‘Miss Wardle!�?said he. The spinster aunt trembled, till somepebbles which had accidentally found their way into the largewatering-pot shook like an infant’s rattle.
　　‘Miss Wardle,�?said Mr. Tupman, ‘you are an angel.�?
　　‘Mr. Tupman!�?exclaimed Rachael, b