“Is nothing to be said to me?” cried Wardle, with open arms.

“A great deal,” whispered Arabella, as she received the old gentleman’s hearty caress and congratulation. “You are a hard-hearted, unfeeling, cruel monster.”

“You are a little rebel,” replied Wardle, in the same tone, “and I am afraid I shall be obliged to forbid you the house. People like you, who get married in spite of everybody, ought not to be let loose on society. But come!” added the old gentleman aloud, “here’s the dinner; you shall sit by me. Joe; why, damn the boy, he’s awake!”

To the great distress of his master, the fat boy was indeed in a state of remarkable vigilance, his eyes being wide open, and looking as if they intended to remain so. There was an alacrity in his manner, too, which was equally unaccountable; every time his eyes met those of Emily or Arabella, he smirked and grinned; once, Wardle could have sworn, he saw him wink.