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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
GIFT OF
Ralph Freud
THE
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
BY
CHARLES DICKENS.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. BARNARD.
NEW YORK:
JOHN WURTELE LOVELL,
No. 24 Bond Street.
A-/
PREFACE.
This story was begun, within a few months after the pub-
lication of the completed " Pickwick Papers." There were,
then, a good many cheap Yorkshire schools in existence.
There are very few now.
Of the monstrous neglect of education in England, and
the disregard of it by the State as a means of forming good
or bad citizens, and miserable or happy men, private schools
long afiforded a notable example. Although any man who
had proved his unfitness for any other occupation in life, was
free, without examination or qualification, to open a school
anywhere; although preparation for the fimctions he under-
took, was required in the surgeon who assisted to bring a boy
into the world, or might one day assist, perhaps, to send him
out of it ; in the cliemist, the attorney, the butcher, the baker,
the candlestick-maker ; the whole round of crafts and trades,
the schoolmaster excepted ; and although schoolmasters, as a
race, were the blockheads and impostors who might naturally
be expected to spring from such a state of things, and to
flourish in it ; these Yorkshire schoolmasters were the lowest
and most rotten round in the whole ladder. Traders in the
avarice, indifference, or imbecility of parents, and the helpless-
ness of children ; ignorant, sordid, brutal men, to whom few
considerate persons would have entrusted the board and lodg-
ing of a horse or a dog ; they formed the worthy corner-stone
of a structure, which, for absurdity and magnificent high-
minded laissez-allcr neglect, has rarely been exceeded in the
world.
We hear sometimes of an action for damages against the
iv PREFACE.
unqualified medical practitioner,, who has deformed a broken
limb in pretending to heal it./ But, what of the hundreds of
thousands of minds that have "Been deformed for ever^by the
incapable pettifoggers who have pretended to form them/!
I make mention of the race, as of the Yorkshire school-
masters, in the past tense. Though it has not yet finally dis-
appeared, it is dwindling daily. A long day's work remains
to be done about us in the way of education, Heaven knows ;
but great improvements and facilities towards the attainment
of a good one, have been furnished, of late years.
I cannot call to mind, now, how I came to hear about York-
shire schools when I was a not very robust child, sitting in
bye-places near Rochester Castle, with a head full of Par-
tridge, Strap, Tom Pipes, and Sancho Panza ; but I know
that my first impressions of them were picked up at that time,
and that they were somehow or other connected with a sup-
purated abscess that some boy had come home with, in con-
sequence of his Yorkshire guide, philosopher, and friend,
having ripped it open with an inky penknife. The impression
made upon me, however made, never left me. I N\as always
curious about Yorkshire schools — fell, long afterwards and at
sundry times, into the way of hearing more about them — at
last, having an audience, resolved to write about them.
With that intent I went down into Yorkshire before I
began this book, in very severe winter-time which is prett}''
faithfully described herein. As I wanted to see a schoolmas-
ter or two, and was forewarned that those gentlemen might,
in their modesty, be shy of receiving a visit from the author
of the "Pickwick Papers," I consulted with a professional
friend who had a Yorkshire connection, and with whom I con-
certed a pious fraud. He gave me some letters of introduc-
tion, in the name, I think, of my travelling companion ; they
bore reference to a supposititious little boy who had been left
with a widowed mother who didn't know what to do with him ;
the poor lady had thought, as a means of thawing the tardy
compassion of her relations in his behalf, of sending him to a
Yorkshire school ; I was the poor lady's friend, travelling that
way ; and if the recipient of the letter could inform me of a
school in his neighborhood, the writer would be very much
obliged.
I went to several places in that part of the country where
I undcrstoofl the schools to be most plentifullv sprinkled, and
had no occasion to deliver a letter until 1 came to a certain
PREFACE. V
town which shall be nameless. The person to whom it was
addressed, was not at home ; but he came down at night,
through the snow, to the inn where I was staying. It was
after dinner ; and he needed little persuasion to sit down by
the fire in a warm corner, and take his share of the wine that
was on the table.
I am afraid he is dead now. I recollect he was a jovial,
ruddy, broad-faced man ; that we got acquainted directly ;
and that we talked on all kinds of subjects, except the school,
which he showed a great anxiety to avoid. Was there any
large school near 1 I asked him, in reference to the letter.
" Oh yes," he said ; " there was a pratty big 'un." " Was it
a good one ? " I asked. " Ey ! " he said, " it was as good as
anoother ; that was a' a matther of opinion ; " and fell to look-
ing at the fire, staring round the room, and whistling a little.
On my reverting to some other topic that we had been dis-
cussing, he recovered immediately ; but, though I tried him
again and again, I never approached the question of the
school, even if he were in the middle of a laugh, without
observing that his countenance fell, and that he became
uncomfortable. At last, when we had passed a couple of
hours or so, very agreeably, he suddenly took up his hat, and
leaning over the table and looking me full in the face, said, in
a low voice : " Weel Misther, we've been vara pleasant
toogather,^and ar'U spak' my moind tiv'ee. Dinnot let the
weedur send her lattle boy to yarn o' our school-measthers,
while there's a harse to hoold in a' Lunnun, or a gootther to
lie asleep in. Ar wouldn't mak' ill words amang my neeburs,
and ar speak tiv'ee quiet loike. But I'm dom'd if ar can gang
to bed and not tellee, for weedur's sak', to keep the lattle boy
from a' sike scoondrels while there's a harse to hoold in a'
Lunnun, or a gootther to lie asleep in ! " Repeating these
words with great heartiness, and with a solemnity on his jolly
face that made it look twice as large as before, he shook hands
and went away. I never saw him afterwards, but I sometimes
imagine that I descry a faint reflection of him in John Brow-
die.
In reference to these gentry, I may here quote a few words
from the original preface to this book.
" It has afforded the Author great amusement and satis-
faction, during the progress of this work, to learn, from coun-
try friends and from a variety of ludicrous statements con-
cerning himself in provincial newspapers, that more than one
vi PREFACE.
Yorkshire schoolmaster lays claim to being the original of Mr.
Squeers. One worthy, he has reason to believe, has actually
consulted authorities learned in the law, as to his having good
grounds on which to rest an action for libel ; another, has
meditated a journey to London, for the express purpose of
conimitting an assault and battery on his traducer ; a third,
perfectly remembers being waited on, last January twelve-
month, by two gentlemen, one of whom held him in conversa-
tion while the other took his likeness ; and, although Mr.
Squeers has but one eye, and he has two, and the published
sketch does not resemble him (whoever he may be) in any
other respect, still he and all his friends and neighbors know
at once for whom it is meant, because — the character is so
like him.
" While the Author cannot but feel the full force of the
compliment thus conveyed to him, he ventures to suggest that
these contentions may arise from the fact, that Mr. Squeers
is the representative of a claiis, and not of an individual.
Where imposture, ignorance, and brutal cupidity, are the
stock in trade of a small body of men, and one is described
by these characteristics, all his fellows will recognize some-
thing belonging to themselves, and each will have a misgiv-
ing that the portrait is his own.
" The Author's object in calling public attention to the
system would be very imperfectly fulfilled, if he did not state
now, in his own person, emphatically and earnestly, that Mr.
Squeers and his school are faint and feeble pictures of an
existing reality, purposely subdued and kept down lest they
should be deemed impossible. That there are, upon record,
trials at law in which damages^ have been sought as a poor
recompense for lasting agonies and disfigurements inflicted
upon children by the treatment of the master in these places,
involving such offensive and foul details of neglect, cruelty,
and disease, as no writer of fiction would have the boldness
to imagine. And that, since he has been engaged upon these
Adventures, he has received, from private quarters far beyond
the reach of suspicion or distrust, accounts of atrocities, in
the perpetration of which upon neglected or repudiated chil-
dren, these schools have been the main instruments, very far
exceeding any that appear in these pages."
This comprises all I need say on the subject ; except that
if I had seen occasion, T had resolved to reprint a few of these
details of legal proceedings, from certain old newspapers.
PR El- ACE. vii
One other quotation from the same Preface, may serve to
introduce a fact that my readers may think curious.
" To turn to a more pleasant subject, it may be right to
say, that there arc two characters in this book which are drawn
from life. It is remarkable that what we call the world, which
is so very credulous in what professes to be true, is most
incredulous in what professes to be imaginary ; and that,
while, every day in real life, it will allow in one man no blem-
ishes, and in another no virtues, it will seldom admit a very
strongly-marked character, either good or bad, in a fictitious
narrative, to be within the limits of probability. But those
who take an interest in this tale, will be glad to learn that the
Brothers Cheeryble live ; that their liberal charity, their
singleness of heart, their noble nature, and their unbounded
benevolence, are no creations of the Author's brain ; but are
prompting every day (and oftenest by stealth) some munificent
and generous deed in that town of which they are the pride
and honor."
If I were to attempt to sum up the thousands of letters,
from all sorts of people in all sorts of latitudes and climates,
which this unlucky paragraph brought down upon me, I
should get into an arithmetical difficulty from which I could
not easily extricate myself. Suffice it to say, that I believe
the applications for loans, gifts, and offices of profit, that I
have been requested to forward to the originals of the Broth-
ers Cheeryble (with whom I never interchanged any com-
munication in my life), would have exhausted the combined
patronage of all the Lord Chancellors since the accession of
the House of Brunswick, and would have broken the Rest of
the Bank of England.
The Brothers are now dead.
There is only one other point, on which I w^ould desire to
offer a remark. If Nicholas be not always found to be blame-
less or agreeable, he is not always intended to appear so. He
is a young man of an impetuous temper and of little or no
experience ; and I saw no reason why such a hero should be
lifted out of nature.
CONTENTS.
CBAP. PAGE.
I. Introduces all the rest 7
II. Of Mr. Ralph Nickleby, and his establishment, and
his undertakings. And of a great joint stock com-
pany of vast national importance 12
III. Mr. Ralph Nickleby receives sad tidings of his
brother, but bears up nobly against the intelligence
communicated to him. The reader is informed
how he liked Nicholas, who is herein introduced,
and how kindly he proposed to make his fortune at
once 23
IV. Nicholas and his uncle (to secure tlie fortune without
loss of time) wait upon Mr. Wackford Squeers, the
Yorkshire schoolmaster 34
V. Nicholas starts for Yorkshire. Of his leave-taking
and his fellow-travellers, and what befel them on
the road 47
VI. In which the occurrence, of the accident mentioned
in the last chapter, affords an opportunity to a
couple of gentlemen to tell stories against each
other ." 58
VII. Mr. and Mrs. Squeers at home 80
VI II. Of the internal economy of Dotheboys Hall 89
IX. Of Miss Squeers, Mrs. Squeers, IVlaster Squeers,
and -Mr. Squeers; and of various matters and per-
sons connected no less with the Squeerses than
with Nicholas Nickleby 102
X. How Mr. Ralph Nickleby provided for his niece and
sister-in law 118
XI. Newman Noggs inducts Mrs. and Miss Nickleby
into their new dwelling in the city 132
XII. Whereby the reader will be enabled to trace the
further course of Miss Fanny Squeers "s love, and
to ascertain whether it ran smooth or otherwise. . . 137
XIII. Nicholas varies the monotonv of Dotheboys Hall by
a most vigorous and remarkable proceeding, which
leads to consequences of some importance 149
3
CONTENTS.
CHAP. _ _ PAGB.
XIV. Having the misfortune to treat of none but common
people, is necessarily of a mean and vulgar
character 163
XV. Acquaints the reader with the cause and origin of the
interruption destribed in the last chapter, and with
some other matters necessary to be known 175
XVI. Nicholas seeks to employ himself in a new capacity,
and being unsuccessful, accepts an engagement as
tutor in a private family r88
XVI I. Follows the fortunes of Miss Nickleby 208
XVin. Miss Knag, after doating on Kate Nickleby for three
whole days, makes up her mind to hate her for
evermore. The causes which lead Miss Knag to
form this resolution 217
XIX. Descriptive of a dinner at Mr. Ralph Nickleby's, and
of the manner in which the company entertained
themselves, before dinner, at dinner, and after
dinner. ... 231
XX. Wherein Nicholas at length encounters his uncle, to
whom he expresses his sentiments with much can-
dor. His resolution 247
XXI. Madame Mantalini finds herself in a situation of some
difficulty, and Miss Nickleby finds herself in no
situation at all 259
XXII. Nicholas, accompanied by Smike, sallies forth to seek
his fortune. He encounters Mr. Vincent Crumm-
ies; and who he was, is herein made manifest 272
XXII I. Treats of the company of Mr. Vincent Crummies,
and of his affairs, domestic and theatrical 287
XXIV. Of the great bespeak for Miss Snevellicci, and the
first appearance of Nicholas upon any stage 30a
XXV. Concerning a young lady from London, who joins
the company, and an elderlv admirer who follows
in her train ; with an affecting ceremony conse-
quent on their arrival 317
XXVI. Is fraught with some danger to Miss Nickleby's
peace of mind 330
XXVII. Mrs. Nickleby becomes acquainted with Messrs.
Pyke and Pluck, whose affection and interest are
beyond all bounds 341
XXVIII. Miss Nicklebv, rendered desperate by the persecu-
tion of Sir IVIulbcrry Hawk, and the complicated
difficulties and distresses which surround her, ap-
peals, as a last resource, to her uncle for protection 356
XXIX. Of the proceedings of Nicholas, and certain internal
divisions in the company of Mr. Vincent Crummies 373
XXX. Festivities are held in honor of Nicholas, who sud-
denly withdraws himself from the society of Mr.
Vincent Crummies and his theatrical companions. 382
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
XXXI.
XXXII.
XXXIII,
XXXIV
XXXV
XXXVI
XXXVII,
Of Ralph Nickleby and Newman Noggs, and some
wise precautioiLS, the succe.ss or faikire of which
will appear in the sequel 398
Relating chiefly to some remarkable conversation,
and some remarkable proceedings to which it
406
416
423
440
In which Mr. Ralph Nickleby is relieved, by a very
expeditious process, from 'all commerce with his
relations
Wherein Mr. Ralph Nickleby is visited by persons
with whom the reader has been already made
acquainted
Smike becomes known to Mrs. Nickleby and Kate.
Nicholas also meets with new acquaintances.
Brighter days seem to dawn upon the family. . . .
Private and confidential ; relating to familv matters.
Showing how Mr. Kenwigs underwent violent
agitation, and how Mrs. Kenwigs was as well as
could be expected 457
Nicholas finds further favor in the eyes of the
brothers Cheeryble and Mr. Timothy Linkin-
water. The brothers give a banquet on a great
annual occasion. Nicholas, on returning home
from it, receives a mysterious and important dis-
closure from the lips of Mrs. Nickleby 465
XXXVIII. Comprises certain particulars arising out of a visit
of condolence, which may prove important here-
after. Smike unexpectedly encounters a very
old friend, who invites him to his house, and will
take no denial 483
XXXIX. In which another old friend encounters Smike,
very opportunely and to some purpose 498
XL. In which Nicholas falls in love. He employs a
mediator, whose proceedings are crowned with
unexpected success, excepting in one solitary
particular ^07
XLI. Containing some romantic passages between Mrs.
Nickleby and the gentleman in the small-clothes
next door
XLI I. Illustrative of the convivial sentiment, that the best
of friends must sometimes part
XLI 1 1. Officiates as a kind of gentleman usher, in bring-
ing various people together 548
XLIV. Mr. Ralph Nickleby cuts an old acquaintance. It
would also appear from the contents hereof, that
a joke, even between husband and wife, may be
sometimes carried too far 562
XLV. Containing matter of a surprising kind 577
XLVI. Throws some light upon Nicholas's love; but
524
537
S CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE.
whether for good or evil, the reader must de-
termine 590
XLVII. Mr. Ralph Nickleby has some confidential inter-
course with another old friend. They concert
between them a project, which promises well for
both 604
XLVIII. Being for the benefit of Mr. Vincent Crummies,
and positively his last appearance on this stage. 620
XLIX. Chronicles the further proceedings of the Nickleby
family, and the sequel of the adventure of the
gentleman in the small-clothes 631
L. Involves a serious catastrophe 647
LI. The project of Mr. Ralph Nickleby and his friend,
approaching a successful issue, becomes unex-
pectedlv known to another party not admitted
into their confidence 661
LI I. Nicholas despairs of rescuing Madeline Bray, but
plucks up his spirits again, and determines to
attempt it. Domestic inteUigence of the Ken-
wigses and Lillyvicks -. 672
LIII. Containing the further progress of the plot con-
trived by Mr. Ralph Nickleby and Mr. Arthur
Gride 685
LIV. The crisis of the project and its result 701
LV. Of family matters, cares, hopes, disappointments,
and sorrows 713
LVI. Ralph Nicklel.iy, baffled by his nephew in his late
design, hatches a scheme of retaliation which
accident suggests to him, and takes into his
counsels a tried auxiliary 726
LVII. How Ralph Nickleby's auxiliary went about his
work, and how he prospered with it 738
LVin. In which one scene of this history is closed 749
LIX. The plots begin to fail, and doubts and dangers to
disturb the plotter 755
LX. The dangers thicken, and the worst is told 770
LXI. Wherein Nicholas and his sister forfeit the good
opinion of all worldly and prudent people 781
LXII. Ralph makes one last appointment — and keeps it.. 791
LXI 1 1. The brothers Cheeryble make various declarations
for themselves and others. Tim Linkinwater
makes a declaration for himself 797
LXIV. An old acquaintance is recognized under melan-
choly circumstances, and Dotheboys Hall breaks
uj) for ever 808
LXV. Conclusion 817
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCES ALL THE REST.
There once lived, in a sequestered part of the county of
Devonshire, one Mr. Godfrey Nickleby : a worthy gentleman,
who taking it into his head rather late in life that he must
get married, and not being young enough or rich enough to
aspire to the hand of a lady of fortune, had wedded an old
flame out of mere attachment, who in her turn had taken him
for the same reason. Thus two people who cannot afford to
play cards for money, sometimes sit down to a quiet game for
love.
Some ill-conditioned persons who sneer at the life-matri-
monial, may perhaps suggest, in this place, that the good
couple would be better likened to two principals in a sparring
match, who, when fortune is low and backers scarce, will chiv-
alrously set to, for the mere pleasure of buffeting ; and in one
respect indeed this comparison would hold good : for, as the
adventurous pair of the Fives' Court will afterwards send
round a hat and trust to the bounty of the lookers-on for the
means of regaling themselves, so Mr. Godfrey Nickleby and
his partner, the honey-moon beinc: over, looked wistfully out
into the world, relying in no considerable degree upon chance
8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
for the improvement of their means. ATr. Nirklehy'*; inrnmp
at the period of liis marriage^ -fluctuated between sixty and
eighty pounds /tv annum.
There arc pcuplc enough in the world, Heaven knows! and
even in London (where Mr. Nickleby dwelt in those days) but
few complaints prevail of the population being scanty. It is
extraordinary how long a man may look among the crowd
without discovering the face of a friend, but it is no less true.
Mr. Nickleby looked, and looked, till his eyes became sore as
his heart, but no friend appeared ; and, when growing tired of
the search, he turned his eyes homeward, he saw very little
there, to relieve his weary vision. A painter who had gazed
too long upon some glaring color, refreshes his dazzled sight
by looking upon a darker and more sombre tint ; but everything
that met Mr. Nickleby's gaze wore so dark and gloomy a hue,
that he would have been beyond description refreshed by the
very reverse of the contrast.
At length, after five years, when Mrs. Nickleby had pre-
sented her husband with a couple of sons, and that embar-
rassed gentleman, impressed with the necessity of making
some provision for his family, was seriously revolving in his
mind a little commercial speculation of insuring his life next
quarter day, and then falling from the top of the Monument
by accident, there came, one morning, by the general post, a
black-bordered letter to inform him how his uncle, Mr. Ralph
Nickleby was dead, and had left him the bulk of his little
property, amounting in all to five thousand pounds sterling.
As the deceased had taken no further notice of his nephew
in his lifetime, than sending to his eldest boy (who had been
christened after him, on desperate speculation) a silver spoon
in a morocco case, which, as he had not too much to eat with
it, seemed a kind of satire upon his having been born without
that useful article of plate in his mouth, Mr. Godfrey Nickleby
could, at first, scarcely believ^e the tidings thus conveyed to
him. On examination, however, they turned out to be strictly
correct. The amiable old gentleman, it seemed, had intended
to leave the whole to the Royal Humane Societ}', and had in-
deed executed a will to that effect ; but the Institution, having
been unfortunate enough, a few months before, to save the life
of a poor relation to whom he paid a weekly allowance of three
shillings and sixpence, he had in a fit of very natural exasper-
ation, revoked the bequest in a codicil, and left it all to Mr,
Godfrey Nickleby ; with a special mention of his indignation,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. g
not only against the society for saving the poor relation's life,
but against the poor relation also, for allowing himself to be
saved.
With a portion of this property Mr. Godfrey Nickleby
purchased a small farm, near Dawlish in Devonshire, whither
he retired with his wife and two children, to live upon the
best interest he could get for the rest of the money, and the
little produce he could raise from his land. The two pros-
pered so well together that, when he died, some fifteen years
after this period, and some five after his wife, he was enabled to
leave, to his eldest son, Ralph, three thousand pounds in cash,
and to his youngest son, Nicholas, one thousand and the farm,
which was as small a landed estate as one would desire to
see.
These two brothers had been brought up together in a school
at Exeter ; and being accustomed to go home once a week,
had often heard from their mother's lips, long accounts of their
father's sufferings in his days of poverty, and of their deceased
uncle's importance in his days of affluence : which recitals
produced a very difterent impression on the two : for, while
the younger was of a timid and retiring disposition, gleaned
from thence nothing but forewarnings to shun the great world
and attach himself to the quiet routine of country life, Ralph,
the elder, deduced from the often-repeated tale the two great
morals that riches are the only true source of happiness and
power, and that it is lawful and just to compass their acquisi-
tion by all means short of felony. " And," reasoned Ralph
with himself, " if no good came of my uncle's money when he
was alive, a great deal of good came of it after he was dead,
inasmuch as my father has got it now, and is saving it up for
me, which is a highly virtuous purpose ; and, going back to the
old gentleman, good did come to him too, for he had the
pleasure of thinking of it all his life long, and of being envied
and courted by all his family besides." And Ralph always
wound up these mental soliloquies by arriv-ing at the conclu-
sion, that there was nothing like money. ,
Not confining himself to theor)', or permitting his faculties
to rust, even at that early age, in mere abstract speculations,
this promising lad commenced usurer on a limited scale at
school ; putting out at good interest a small capital of slate-
pencil and marbles, and gradually extending his operations
until they aspired to the copper coinage of this realm, in which
he speculated to considerable advantage. Nor did he trouble
I o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
his borrowers wijh abstract calculations of figures, or refer-
ences to ready-reckoners ; his simple rule of interest being all
comprised in the one golden sentence, " two-pence for every
half-penny," which greatly simplified the accounts, and which
as a familiar precept, more easily acquired and retained in the
memory tlian any known rule of arithmetic, cannot be too
strongly recommended to the notice of capitalists, both large
and small, and more especially of money-brokers and bill-dis-
counters. Indeed, to do these gentlemen justice many of them
are to this day in the frequent habit of adopting it, with emi-
nent success.
In like manner did young Ralph Nickleby avoid all those
minute and intricate calculations of odd days, which nobody
who has worked sums in simple interest can fail to have found
most embarrassing, by establishing the one general rule that
all sums of principal and interest should be paid on pocket-
money day, that is to say, on Saturday : and that whether a
loan were contracted on the Monday, or on the Friday, the
amount of interest should be, in both cases, the same. In-
deed he argued, and with great show of reason, that it ought
to be rather more for one day than for five, inasmuch as the
borrower might in the former case be ver^' fairly presumed to
be in great extremity, otherwise he would not borrow at all
with such odds against him. The fact is interesting, as illus-
trating the secret connection and sympathy which always ex-
ists between great minds. Though Master Ralph Nickleby
was not at that time aware of it, the class of gentlemen before
alluded to, proceed on just the same principle in all their
transactions.
From what we have said of this young gentleman, and the
natural admiration the reader will immediately conceive of his
character, it may perhaps be inferred that he is to be the hero
of the work which we shall presently begin. To set this point
at rest, for once and for ever, we hasten to undeceive them,
and stride to its commencement.
On the death of his father, Ralph Nickleby, who had been
some time before placed in a mercantile house in London, ap-
plied himself passionately to his old pursuit of money-getting,
in which he speedily became so buried and absorbed, that he
quite forgot his brother for many years ; and if, at times, a rec-
ollection of his old playfellow broke upon him through the haze
in which he lived — for gold conjures up a mist about a man
more destructive of all his old senses and lulling to his feelings
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 1 1
than the fumes of charcoal — it brought along with it a com-
panion thought, that if they were intimate he would want to
borrow money of liim. So Mr. Ralph Nickleby shrugged his
shoulders and said things were better as they were.
As for Nicholas, he lived a single man on the patrimonial
estate until he grew tired of living alone, and then he took to
wife the daughter of a neighboring gentleman with a dower
of one thousand pounds. This good lady bore him two chil-
dren, a son and a daughter, and when the son was about nine-
teen, and the daughter fourteen, as near as we can guess — im-
partial records of young ladies' ages being, before the passing
of the new act, nowhere preserved in the registries of this
country — Mr. Nickleby looked about him for the means of re-
pairing his capital, now sadly reduced by this increase in his
family, and the expenses of their education.
"Speculate with it," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" Spec — u — late, my dear ? " said Mr. Nickleby, as though
in doubt.
" Why not ? " asked Mrs. Nickleby.
" Because, my dear, if we should lose it," rejoined Mr.
Nickleby, who was a slow and time-taking speaker, " if we
should lose it, we shall no longer be able to live, my dear."
" Fiddle," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" I am not altogether sure of that, my dear," said Mr.
Nickleby.
" There's Nicholas," pursued the lady, " quite a young
man — it's time he was doing something for himself ; and Kate
too, poor girl, without a penny in the world. Think of your
brother ! Would he be what he is, if he hadn't speculated ? "
" That's true," replied Mr. Nickleby. " Very good, my
dear. Yes. I ivill speculate, my dear."
Speculation is a round game ; the players see little or
nothing of their cards at first starting ; gains may be great —
and so may losses. The run of luck went against Mr. Nickle-
by. A mania prevailed, a bubble burst, four stockbrokers
took villa residences at Florence, four hundred nobodies
were ruined, and among them Mr. Nickleby.
" The very house I live in," sighed the poor gentleman,
" may be taken from me to-morrow. Not an article of my old
furniture, but will be sold to strangers ! "
The last reflection hurt him so much, that he took at once
to his bed ; apparently resolved to keep that, at all events.
" Cheer up, sir ! " said the apothecary.
1 2 NICIIOL A S NICKL EB V.
" You musn't let yourself be cast down, sir," said the
nurse.
" Such things happen every day," remarked the lawyer.
" And it is very sintul to rebel against them," whispered
the clergyman.
"And what no man with a family ought to do," added the
neighbors.
Mr. Nickleby shook his head, and motioning them all out
of the room, embraced his wife and children, and having
pressed them by turns to his languidly beating heart, sunk
exhausted on his pillow. They were concerned to find that
his reason went astray after this ; for he babbled, for a long
time, about the generosity and goodness of his brother, and
the merry old time when they were at school together. This
fit of wandering past, he solemnly commended them to One
who never deserted the widow or her fatherless children, and,
smiling gently on them, turned upon his face and observed
that he thought he could fall asleep.
CHAPTER II.
OF MR. RALPH NICKLEBY, AND HIS ESTABLISHMENT, AND HIS
UNDERTAKINGS. AND OF A GREAT JOINT STOCK COMPANY
OF VAST NATIONAL IMPORTANCE.
Mr. Ralph Nickleby was not, strictly speaking, what you
would call a merchant, neither was he a banker, nor an attor-
ney, nor a special pleader, nor a notary. He was certainly
not a tradesman, and still less could he lay any claim to the
title of a professional gentleman ; for it would have been im-
possible to mention any recognized profession to which he be-
longed. Nevertheless, as he lived in a spacious house in
Golden Square, which, in addition to a brass plate upon the
street-door, had another brass plate two sizes and a half small-
er upon the left hand door-post, surmounting a brass model
of an infant's fist grasping a fragment of a skewer, and dis-
playing the word "Office," it was clear that Mr. Ralph Nickle-
by did, or pretended to do, business of some kind ; and the
fact, if it required any further circumstantial evidence, was
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 13
abundantly demonstrated, by the diurnal attendance, between
the hours of half-past nine and five, of a sallow-faced man in
rusty brown, who sat upon an uncommonly hard stool in a spe-
cies of butler's pantry at the end of the passage, and always
had a pen behind his ear when he answered the bell.
Although a few members of the graver professions live
about the Golden Square, it is not exactly in anybody's way
to or from anywhere. It is one of the squares that have been ,
a quarter of the town that has gone down in the world, and
taking to letting lodgings. Many of its first and second floors
are let, furnishe"d,to single gentlemen ; and it takes boarders be-
sides. It is a great resort of foreigners. The dark-complex-
ioned men who wear large rings, and heavy watch-guards, and
bushy whiskers, and who congregate under the Opera Colon-
nade, and about the box-office in the season, between four and
five in the afternoon, when they give away the orders, — all
live in Golden Square, or within a street of it. Two or three
violins and a wind instrument from the Opera band reside
within its precincts. Its boarding-houses are musical, and
the notes of pianos and harps float in the evening time round
the head of the mournful statue, the guardian genius of a little
wilderness of shrubs, in the centre of the square. On a sum-
mer's night, windows are thrown open, and groups of swarthy,
mustacMoed men are seen by the passer-by, lounging at the
casements, and smoking fearfully. Sounds of gruff voices
practising vocal music invade the evening's silence ; and the
fumes of choice tobacco scent the air. There, snuff and
cigars, and German pipes and flutes, and violins and violon-
cellos, di\ide the supremacy between them, j^ It is the region
of song and smoke. Street bands are on their mettle in
Golden Square ; and itinerant glee-singers quaver involuntarily
as they raise their voices within its boundaries.
This would not seem a spot very well adapted to the trans-
action of business ; but Mr. Ralph Nickleby had lived there,
notwithstanding, for many years, and uttered no complaint on
that score. He knew nobody round about, and nobody knew
him, although he enjoyed the reputation of being immensely
jrfch. The tradesmen held that he was a sort of lawyer, and the
other neighbors opined that he was a kind of general agent ;
both of which guesses were as correct and definite as guesses
about other people's affairs usually are, or need to be.
Mr. Ralph Nickleby sat in his private office one morn-
ing, ready dressed to walk abroad. He wore a bottle-green
14
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
spencer over a blue coat ; a white waistcoat, gray mixture pan-
taloons, and Wellington boots drawn over them. The corner
of a small-plaited shirt-frill struggled out, as if insisting to
show itself, from between his chin and the top button of his
spencer ; and the latter garment was not made low enough to
conceal a long gold watch-chain, composed of a series of plain
rings, which had its beginning at the handle of a gold repeater
in Mr. Nickleby's pocket, and its termination in two little
keys : one belonging to the watch itself and the other to some
patent padlock. He wore a sprinkling of powder upon his
head, as if to make himself look benevolent ; and if that were
his purpose, he would perhaps have done better to powder
his countenance also, for there was something in its very
wrinkles, and in his cold restless eye, which seemed to tell of
cunning that would announce itself in spite of him. How-
ever this might be, there he was ; and he was all alone,
neither the powder, nor the wrinkles, nor the eyes, had the
smallest effect, good or bad, upon anybody just then, and are
consequently no business of ours just now.
Mr. Nickleby closed an account-book which lay on his
desk, and, throwing himself back in his chair, gazed with an
air of abstraction through the dirty window. Some London
houses have a melancholy little plot of ground behind them,
usually fenced in by four high whitewashed walls, and frowned
upon by stacks of chimneys : in which there withers on, from
year to year, a crippled tree, that makes a show of putting
forth a few leaves late in autumn when other trees shed theirs,
and, drooping in the effort, lingers on, all crackled and smoke-
dried, till the following season, when it repeats the same pro-
cess, and perhaps if the weather be particularly genial, even
tempts some rheumatic sparrow to chirrup in its branches.
People sometimes call these dark yards "gardens;" it is not
supposed that they were ever planted, but rather that they are
pieces of unreclaimed land, with the withered vegetation of
the original brick-field. No man thinks of walking in this
desolate place, or of turning it to any account. A few ham-
pers, half-a-dozen broken bottles, and such-like rubbish, may
be thrown there, when the tenant first moves in, but nothing
more ; and there they remain until he goes away again : the
damp straw taking just as long to moulder as it thinks proper :
and mingling with the scanty box, and stunted everbrovvns,
and broken (lower-pots, that are scattered mournfully about — •
a prey to " blacks " and tiirt.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
IS
It was into a place of this kind that Mr. Ralph Nickleby
gazed, as he sat with his hands in his pockets looking out at
window. He had fixed his eyes upon a distorted fir-tree,
planted by some former tenant in a tub that had once been
green, and left there, years before, to rot away piecemeal.
There was nothing very inviting in the object, but Mr. Nickle-
by was wrapt in a brown study, and sat contemplating it with
far greater attention than, in a more conscious mood, he would
have deigned to bestow upon the rarest exotic. At length,
his eyes wandered to a little dirty window on the left, through
which the face of the clerk was dimly visible ; that worthy
chancing to look up, he beckoned him to attend.
In obedience to this summons the clerk got off the high
stool (to which he had communicated a high polish by count-
less gettings off and on), and presented himself in Mr. Nickle-
by's room. He was a tall man of middle-age, with two goggle-
eyes, whereof one was a fixture, a rubicund nose, a cadaver-
ous face, and a suit of clothes (if the term be allowable when
they suited him not atallj much the worse for wear, very much
too small, and placed upon such a short allowance of buttons
that it was marvellous how he contrived to keep them on.
" Was that half-past twelve, Noggs ? " said Mr. Nickleby,
in a sharp and grating voice.
" Not more than five-and-twenty minutes by the — " Noggs
was going to add public-house clock, but recollecting himself,
substituted " regular time."
" My watch has stopped," said Mr. Nickleby : " I don't
know from what cause."
" Not wound up," said Noggs.
" Yes it is," said Mr. Nickleby.
" Over-wound then," rejoined Noggs.
"That can't very well be," observed Mr. Nickleby.
" Must be," said Noggs.
" Well ! " said Mr. Nickleby, putting the repeater back in
his pocket ; " perhaps it is."
Noggs gave a peculiar grunt, as was his custom at the end
of all disputes with his master, to imply that he (Noggs) tri-
umphed ; and (as he rarely spoke to anybody unless some-
body spoke to him) fell into a grim silence, and rubbed his
hands slowly over each other : cracking the joints of his fin-
gers, and squeezing them into all possible distortions. The
incessant performance of this routine on eveiy occasion, and
the connnunication of a fixed and ri^id look to his unaffected
'O'
1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
eye, so as to make it uniform with the other, and to render it
impossible for anybody to determine where or at what he was
looking, were two among the numerous peculiarities of Mr.
Noggs, which struck an inexperienced observer at first sight.
" I am going to the London Tavern this morning," said
Mr. Nickleby.
" Public meeting? " inquired Noggs.
Mr. Nickleby nodded. " 1 expect a letter from the solici-
tor respecting that mortgage of Ruddle's. If it comes at all,
it will be here by the two o'clock deliver}'. I shall leave the
city by that time and walk to Charing-Cross on the left-hand
side of the way ; if there are any letters, come and meet me ;
and bring them with you."
Noggs nodded ; and as he nodded, there came a ring at
the office bell. The master looked up from his papers, and
the clerk calmly remained in a stationary position.
" The bell " said Noggs, as though in explanation. " At
home ? "
"Yes."
" To anybody > "
" Yes."
"To the tax-gatherer?"
"No ! Let him call again."
Noggs gave vent to his usual grunt, as much as to say
" I thought so ! " and, the ring being repeated, went to the
door, whence he presently returned, ushering in, by the name
of Mr. Eonney, a pale gentleman in a violent hurry, who,
with his hair standing up in great disorder all over his head,
and a very narrow white cravat tied loosely round his throat,
looked as if he had been knocked up in the night and had
not dressed himself since.
" My dear Nickleby," said the gentleman, taking off a
white hat which was so full of papers that it would scarcely
stick upon his head, " there's not a moment to lose ; I have
a cab at the door. Sir Matthew Pupker takes the chair, and
three members of Parliament are positively coming. I have
seen two of them safely out of bed. The third, who was at
Crockford's all night, has just gone home to put a clean shirt
on, and take a bottle or two of soda water, and will certainly
be with us, in time to address the meeting. He is a little
excited by last night, but never mind that ; he always speaks
the stronger for it."
"It seems to promise pretty well," said Mr. Ralph Nick-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
17
leby, whose deliberate manner was strongly opposed to the
vivacity of the other man of business.
" Pretty well ! " echoed Mr. Bonney. " It's the finest idea
that was ever started. ' United Metropolitan Improved Hot
Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company.
Capital, five millions in five hundred thousand shares of ten
pounds each.' Why the very name will get the shares up to a
premium in ten days."
" And when they are at a premium," said Mr. Ralph
Nickleby, smiling.
" When they are, you knew what to do with them as well
as any man alive, and how to back quietly out at the right
time," said Mr. Bonney, slapping the capitalist familiarly on
the shoulder. " By the bye, what a very remarkable man
that clerk of yours is."
" Yes, poor devil ! " replied Ralph, drawing on his gloves.
"Though Newman Noggs kept his horses and hounds once."
" Ay, ay ? " said the other carelessly.
" Yes," continued Ralph, '* and not many years ago
either ; but he squandered his money, invested it anyhow,
borrowed at interest, and in short made first a thorough fool
of himself, and then a beggar. He took to drinking, and had
a touch of pnralysis, and then came here to borrow a pound,
as in his better days I had — "
•' Done business with him," said Mr. Bonney with a mean-
ing look.
" Just so," replied Ralph ; " I couldn't lend it, you know."
" Oh, of course not."
" But as I wanted a clerk just then, to open the door and
so forth, I took him out of charity, and he has remained
with me ever since. He is a little mad, I think,'-' said Mr.
Nickleby, calling up a charitable look, " but he is useful
enough, poor creature — useful enough."
The kind-hearted gentleman omitted to add that Newman
Noggs, being utterly destitute, served him for rather less than
the usual wages of a boy of thirteen ; and likewise failed
to mention in his hasty chronicle, that his eccentric tacitur-
nity rendered him an especially valuable person in a place
where much business was done, of which it was desirable no
mention should be made out of doors. The other gentleman
was plainly impatient to be gone, however, and as they hur-
ried into the hackney cabriolet immediately afterwards, per-
haps Mr. Nickleby forgot to mention circumstances so unim-
portant. 2
1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
There was a great bustle in Bishopsgate Street Within, as
they drew up, and (it being a windy day) half a dozen men
were tacking across the road under a press of paper, bearing
gigantic announcements that a Public Meeting would be
holden at one o'clock precisely, to take into consideration
the propriety of petitioning Parliament in favor of the
United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet
Baking and Punctual Deliveiy Company, capital five mil-
lions, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each ;
which sums were duly set forth in fat black figures of
considerable size. Mr. Bonney elbowed his way briskly vip
stairs, receiving in his progress many low bows from the
waiters who stood on the landings to show the way, and,
followed by Mr. Nickleby, dived into a suite of apartments
behind the great public-room : in the second of which was a
business-looking table, and several business-looking people.
" Hear ! " cried a gentleman with a double chin, as Mr.
Bonney presented himself. " Chair, gentlemen, chair ! "
The new comers were received with universal approbation,
and Mr. Bonney bustled up to the top of the table, took off
his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and knocked a hack-
ney-coachman's knock on the table with a little hammer ;
whereat several gentlemen cried " Hear ! " and nodded
slightly to each other, as much as to say what spirited con-
duct that was. Just at this moment, a waiter, feverish with
agitation, tore into the room, and throwing the door open
with a crash, shouted " Sir Matthew Pupker ! "
The committee stood up and clapped their hands for joy ;
and while they were clapping them, in came Sir Matthew Pup-
ker, attended by two live members of Parliament, one Irish and
one Scotch, all smiling and bowing,and looking so pleasant that
it seemed a perfect marvel how any man could have the
heart to vi|te against them. Sir Matthew Pupker especially,
who had a little round head with a fiaxen wig on the top of it,
fell into such a paroxysm of bows, that the wig threatened to
be jerked off, every instant. When these symptoms had in
some degree subsided, the gentlemen who were on speaking
terms with Sir Matthew Pupker, or the two other members,
crowded round them in three little groups, near one or other
of which the gentlemen who were not on speaking terms with
Sir Matthew Pupker or the two other members, stood linger-
ing, and smiling, and rubbing their hands, in the desperate
hope of something turning up which might bring them into
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. \ 9
notice. All this time, Sir Matthew Pupker and the two other
members were relating to their separate circles what the in-
tentions of government were, about taking up the bill ; with a
full account of what the government had said in a whisper the
last time they dined with it, aud how the government had
been obser\-ed to wink when it said so ; from which premises
they were at no loss to draw the conclusion, that if the govern-
ment had one object more at heart than another, that one
object was the welfare and advantage of the United Metro-
politan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punc-
tual Delivery Company.
Meanwhile, and pending the arrangements of the proceed-
ings, and a fair division of the speechifying, the public in the
large room were eyeing, by turns, the empty platform, and
the" ladies in the Music Gallery. In these amusements the
greater portion of them had been occupied for a couple of
hours before, and as the most agreeable diversions pall upon
the taste on a too protracted enjoyment of them, the sterner
spirits now began to hammer the floor with their boot-heels,
and to express their dissatisfaction by various hoots and cries.
These vocal exertions, emanating from the people who had
been there longest, naturally proceeded from those who were
nearest to the platform and furthest from the policemen in
attendance, who having no great mind to fight their way
through the crowd, bu^ entertaining nevertheless a praise-
worthy desire to do something to quell the disturbance, im-
mediately began to drag forth, by the coat tails and collars,
all the quiet people near the door ; at the same time dealing
out various smart and tingling blows with their truncheons,
after the manner of that ingenious actor, Mr. Punch: whose
brilliant example, both in the fashion of his weapons and
their use, this branch of the executive occasionally follows.
Several very exciting skirmishes were in progii^, when a
loud shout attracted the attention even of the bdWigerents,
and then there poured o\\ to the platform, from a door at the
side, a long line of gentlemen with their hats off, all looking
behind them, and uttering vociferous cheers ; the cause
whereof was sufficiently explained when Sir Matthew Pupker
and the two other real members of Parliament came to the
front, amidst deafening shouts, and testified to each other in
dumb motions that they had never seen such a glorious sight
as that, in the whole course of their public career.
At length, and at last, the assembly left off shouting, but
20 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Sir Matthew Pupker being into the chair, they underwent a
relapse which lasted five minutes. This over, Sir Matthew
Pupker went on to say what must be his feelings on that great
occasion, and what must be that occasion in the eyes of the
world, and what must be the intelligence of his fellow-country-
men before him, and what must be the wealth and respecta-
bility of his honorable friends behind him, and lastly, what
must be the importance to the wealth, the happiness, the com-
fort, the liberty, the very existence of a free and great people, of
such an Institution as the United Metropolitan Improved Hot
Mufhn and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company !
Mr. Bonney then presented himself to move the first reso-
lution ; and having run his right hand through his hair, and
planted his left, in an easy manner, in his ribs, he consigned
his hat to the care of the gentleman with the double chin
(who acted as a species of bottle-holder to the orators gener-
ally), and said he would read to them the first resolution —
" That this meeting views with alarm and apprehension, the
existing state of the Muffin Trade in this Metropolis and its
neighborhood ; that it considers the Muffin Boys, as at pres-
ent constituted, wholly undeser\-ing the confidence of the
public ; and that it deems the whole Muffin system alike preju-
dicial to the health and morals of the people, and subversive
of the best interests of a great commercial and mercantile
community." The honorable gentleman made a speech which
drew tears from the ej-es of the ladies, and awakened the
liveliest emotions in every individual present. He had visited
the houses of the poor in the various districts of London, and
had found them destitute of the slightest vestige of a muffin,
which there appeared too much reason to believe some of
these indigent persons did not taste from year's end to year's
end. He had found that among muffin-sellers there existed
drunkenness, debauchery, and profligacy, which he attributed
to the debasing nature of their employment as at present ex-
ercised ; he had found the same vices among the poorer class
of people who ought to be muffin consumers ; and this he at-
tributed to the despair engendered by their being placed be-
yond the reach of that nutritious article, which drove them to
seek a false stimulant in intoxicating liquors. He would
undertake to prove before a committee of the House of Com-
mons, that there existed a combination to keep up the price
of muffins, and to give the bellmen a monopoly ; he would
prove it by bellmen at the bar of that house ; and he would
NICHOLAS NICK'LEB Y. 2 1
also prove, that these men corresponded with each other by
secret words and signs, as "Snooks," "Walker," "Ferguson,"
" Is Murpliy right ? " and many others. It was this melancholy
state of things that the Company proposed to correct ; firstly,
by prohibiting, under heavy penalties, all private muffin trad-
ing of every description ; secondly, by themselves supplying
the public generally, and the poor at their own homes, with
muffins of first quality at reduced prices. It was with this
object that a bill had been introduced into Parliament by their
patriotic chairman Sir Matthew Pupker ; it w^as this bill that
they had met to support ; it was the supporters of this bill
who would confer undying brightness and splendor upon Eng-
land, under the name of the United Metropolitan Improved
Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Com-
pany ; he would add, with a capital of Five Millions, in five
hundred thousand shares of ten pounds each.
Mr. Ralph Nickleby seconded the resolution, and another
gentleman having moved that it be amended by the insertion
of the words "and crumpet " after the word " muffin," when-
ever it occurred, it was carried triumphantly. Only one man
in the crowd cried " No ! " and he was promptly taken into
custody, and straightway borne off.
The second resolution, which recognized the expediency
of immediately abolishing "all muffin (or crumpet) sellers, all
traders in muffins (or crumpets) of whatsoe\er description,
whether male or female, boys or men, ringing hand-bells or
otherwise," was moved by a grievous gentleman of semi-cleri-
cal appearance, who went at once into such deep pathetics,
that he knocked the first speaker clean out of the course in no
time. You might have heard a pin fall — a pin ! a feather — as
he described the cruelties inflicted on muffin boys by their
masters, which he ver}^ wisely urged were in themselves a
sufficient reason for the establishment of that inestimable
company. It seemed that the unhappy youths were nightly
turned out into the wet streets at the most inclement periods
of the year, to wander about, in darkness and rain — or it
might be hail or snow — for hours together, without shelter,
food, or warmth ; and let the public never forget upon the
latter point, that while the muffins were provided with warm
clothing and blankets, the boys were wholly unprovided for,
and left to their own miserable resources. (Shame !) The
honorable gentleman related one case of a muffin boy, who
having been exposed to this inhuman and barbarous system
2 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
for no less than five years, at length fell a victim to a cold in
the head, beneath which he gradually sunk until he fell into a
perspiration and recovered ; this he could vouch for, on his
own authoritv, but he had heard (and he had no reason to
doubt the fact) of a still more heart-rending and appalling
circumstance. He had heard of the case of an orphan muffin
boy, who, having been run over by a hackney carriage, had
been removed to the hospital, had undergone the amputation
of his leg below the knee, and was now actually pursuing his
occupation on crutches. Fountain of justice, were these
things to last !
This was the department of the subject that took the meet-
ing, and this was the style of speaking to enlist their sym-
pathies. The men shouted ; the ladies wept into their pocket-
handkerchiefs till they were moist, and waved them till they
were dr}' ; the excitement was tremendous ; and Mr. Nickleby
whispered his friend that the shares were thenceforth at a
premium of five-and-twenty per cent.
The resolution was, of course, carried with loud acclama-
tions, every man holding up both hands in favor of it, as he
would in his enthusiasm have held up both legs also, if he
could have conveniently accomplished it. This done, the
draft of the proposed petition was read at length ; and the
petition said, as all petitions do say, that the petitioners were
very humble, and the petitioned very honorable, and the ob-
ject very virtuous ; therefore (said the petition) the bill ought
to be passed into a law at once, to the everlasting honor and
glory of that most honorable and glorious Commons of Eng-
land in Parliament assembled.
Then, the gentleman who had been at Crockford's all night,
and who looked something the worse about the eyes in conse-
quence, came forward to tell his fellow-countrymen what a
speech he meant to make in favor of that petition whenever
it should be presented, and how desperately he meant to
taunt the Parliament if they rejected the bill ; and to inform
them also, that he regretted' his honorable friends had not in-
serted a clause rendering the purchase of muftins and crum-
pets compulsory upon all classes of the community, which he
— opposing all' half measures, and preferring to go the ex-
treme animal — pledged himself to propose and divide upon,
in committee. After announcing this determination, the
honorable gentleman grew jocular ; and as patent boots, lemon-
colored kid gloves, and a fur coat collar, assist jokes materially,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 23
there was immense laughter and much cheerhig, and more-
over such a briUiant display of ladies' pocket-handkerchiefs,
as threw the grievous gentleman quite into the shade.
And when the petition had been read and was about to be
adopted, there came forward the Irish member (who was a
young gentleman of ardent temperament,) with such a speech
as only an Irish member can make, breathing the true
soul and spirit of poetry, and poured forth with such fervor,
that it made one warm to look at him ; in the course whereof,
he told them how he would demand the extension of that
great boon to his native country ; how he would claim for her
equal rights in the muffin laws as in all other laws ; and how
he yet hoped to see the day when crumpets should be toasted
in her lowly cabins, and muffin bells should ring in her rich
green valleys. And, after him, came the Scotch member,
with various pleasant allusions to the probable amount of
profits, which increased the good humor that the poetiy had
ajvakened ; and all the speeches put together did exactly what
they were intended to do, and established in the hearers'
minds that there was no speculation so promising, or at the
same time so praiseworthy, as the United Metropolitan Im-
proved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Deliv-
ery Company.
So, the petition in favor of the bill was agreed upon, and
the meeting adjourned with acclamations, and Mr. Nickleby
and the other directors went to the office to lunch, as they did
every day at half-past one o'clock ; and to remunerate them-
selves for which trouble (as the company was yet in its in-
fancy), they only charged three guineas each man for every
such attendance.
CHAPTER III.
MR. RALPH NICKLEBY RECEIVES SAD TIDINGS OF HIS BROTHER,
BUT BEARS UP NOBLY AGAINST THE INTELLIGENCE COM-
MUNICATED TO HIM. THE READER IS INFORMED HOW HE
LIKED NICHOLAS, WHO IS HEREIN INTRODUCED, AND HOW
KINDLY HE PROPOSED TO MAKE HIS FORTUNE AT ONCE.
Having rendered his zealous assistance towards despatch-
ing the lunch, with all that promptitude and energy which are
24
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
among the most important qualities that men of business can
possess, Mr. Ralph Nickleby took, a cordial farewell of his
fellow speculators, and bent his steps westward in unwonted
good humor. As he passed Saint Paul's he stepped aside
into a doorway to set his watch, and with his hand on tlie
key and his eye on the cathedral dial, was intent upon so doing,
when a man suddenly stopped before him. It was Newman
Noggs.
" h\\ ! Newman," said Mr. Nickleby, looking up as he
pursued his occupation. " The letter about the mortgage has
come, has it .'' I thought it would."
" Wrong," replied Newman.
" What 1 and nobody called respecting it ? " inquired Mr.
Nickleby, pausing. Noggs shook his head.
" What has come, then 1 " inquired Mr. Nickleby.
" I have," said Newman.
" What else ? " demanded the master, sternly.
"This," said Newman, drawing a sealed letter slowly from
his pocket. " Postmark, Strand, black wax, black border,
woman's hand, C. N. in the corner."
"Black wax .^" said Mr. Nickleby, glancing at the letter.
" I know something of that hand, too. Newman, I shouldn't
be surprised if my brother were dead."
"I don't think you would," said Newman quietly.
" Why not, sir ? " demanded Mr. Nickleby.
" You never are surprised," replied Newman, " that's all."
Mr. Nickleby snatched the letter from his assistant, and
fixing a cold look upon him, opened, read it, put it in his
pocket, and having now hit the time to a second, began wind-
ing-up his watch.
"It is as I expected, Newman," said Mr. Nickleby, while
he was thus engaged. " He ts dead. Dear me ! Well, that's
a sudden thing. I shouldn't have thought it, really." With
these touching expressions of sorrow, Mr. Nickleby replaced
his watch in his fob, and, fitting on his glove to a nicety,
turned upon his way, and walked slowly westward with his
hands behind him,
" Children alive ? " inquired Noggs, stepping up to him.
"Why, that's the very thing," replied Mr. Nickleby as
though his thoughts were about them at that moment. " They
are both alive."
'^ " Both ! " repeated Newman Noggs, in a low voice.
"And the widow, too," added Mr. Nickleby, "and all
three in London, confound them ; all three here, Newman,"
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 25
Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face waa
curiously twisted as by a spasm ; but whether of paralysis, or
grief, or inward laughter, nobody but himself could possibly ex-
plain. The expression of a man's face is commonly a help to his
thoughts, or glossary on his speech ; but the countenance of
Newman Noggs, in his ordinary moods, was a problem which
no stretch of ingenuity could solve,
" Go home ! " said Mr. Nickleby, after they had walked a
few paces, looking round at the clerk as if he were his dog.
The words were scarcely uttered when Newman darted across
the road, slunk among the crowd and disappeared in an in-
stant.
" Reasonable, certainly ! " muttered Mr. Nickleby to him-
self, as he walked on, " very reasonable ! My brother never
did anything for me, and I never expected it ; the breath is no
sooner out of his body than I am to be looked to, as the sup-
port .of^a_ great hearty woman, and a grown boy and girl.
What are they to me ! /never saw them."
Full of these and many other refiections of a similar
kind, Mr. Nickleby made the best of his way to the Strand,
and, referring to his letter as if to ascertain the number of the
house he wanted, stopped at a private door about half-way
down that crowded thoroughfare.
A miniature painter lived there, for there was a large gilt
frame screwed upon the street-door, in which were displayed,
upon a black velvet ground, two portraits of naval dress coats
with faces looking out of them, and telescopes attached ;
one of a young gentleman in a very vermilion uniform, flourish-
ing a sabre ; and one of a literary character with a high fore-
head, a pen and ink, six books, and^ a curtain. There was,
moreover, a touching representation of a young lady reading
a manuscript in an unfathomable forest, and a charming whole
lenath of a larsre-headed little bov, sitting on a stool with his
legs fore-shortened to the size of salt-spoons. Besides these
works of art, there were a great many heads of old ladies and
gentlemen smirking at each other out of blue and brown skies,
and an elegantly-written card of terms with an embossed
border.
Mr. Nickleby glanced at these frivolities with great con-
tempt, and gave a double knock, which, having been thrice
repeated, was answered by a servant girl with an uncommonly
dirty face.
" Is Mrs. Nickleby at home, girl ? " demanded Ralph
sharply.
2 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
"Her name ain't Nickleby," said the girl, " La Creevy,
you mean."
Mr. Nickleby looked very indignant at the handmaid on
being thus corrected, and demanded with much asperity what
she meant ; which she was about to state, when a female voice,
proceeding from a perpendicular staircase at the end of the
passage, inquired who was wanted.
" Mrs. Nickleby," said Ralph.
" It's the second floor, Hannah," said the same voice ;
" what a stupid thing you are ! Is the second floor at home ? "
" Somebody went out just now, but I think it was the attic
which had been a cleaning of himself," replied the girl.
" You had better see," said the invisible female. "Show
the gentleman where the bell is, and tell him he musn't knock
double knocks for the second floor ; I can't allow a knock ex-
cept when the bell's broke, and then it must be two single ones."
" Here," said Ralph, walking in without more parley, " I
beg your pardon ; is that Mrs. La What's-her-name ? "
" Creevy — La Creevy," replied the voice, as a yellow head-
dress bobbed over the banisters.
" I'll speak to you a moment, ma'am, with your leave,"
said Ralph.
The \oice replied that the gentleman was to walk up ; but
he had walked up before it spoke, and stepping into the first
floor, was received JDy the wearer of the yellow-head dress,
who had a gown to correspond, and was of much the same
color herself. Miss La Creevy was a mincing young lady of
fifty, and Miss La Creevy's apartment was the gilt frame down
stairs on a larger scale and something dirtier.
" Hem ! " said Miss La Creevy, coughing delicately behind
her black silk mitten. " A miniature, I presume. A very
strongly-marked countenance for the purpose, sir. Have you
ever sat before ? "
" You mistake my purpose, I see, ma'am," replied Mr.
Nickleby, in his usual blunt fashion. " I have no money to
throw away on miniatures, ma'am, and nobody to give one to
(thank God) if I had. Seeing you on the stairs, I wanted to
ask a question of you, about some lodgers here."
Miss La Creevy coughed once more — this cough was to
conceal her disa])pointment— and said, " Oh, indeed ! "
" I infer from what you said to your servant, that the floor
above belongs to you, ma'am ? " said Mr. Nickleby.
Yes it did, Miss La Creevy replied. The upper part of
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 27
the house belonged to her, and as she had no necessity for
the second-floor rooms just then, she was in the habit of let-
ting them. Indeed, there was a lady from the countr}' and
her two children in them, at that present speaking.
" A widow, ma'am ? " said Ralph.
" Yes, she is a widow," replied the lady.
^^ Kpoor widow, ma'am," said Ralph, with a powerful em-
phasis on that little adjective which conveys so much.
" Well, I am afraid she is poor," rejoined Miss La Creevy.
" I happen to know that she is, ma'am," said Ralph.
" Now, what business has a poor widow in such a house as
tliis, ma'am .? "
" Very true," replied Miss La Creevy, not at all displeased
with this implied compliment to the apartments. " Exceed-
ingly true."
" I know her circumstances intimately, ma'am," said
Ralph ; " in fact, I am a relation of the family ; and I should
recommend you not to keep them here, ma'am."
" I should hope, if there was any incompatibility to meet
the pecuniary obligations," said Miss La Creevy with another
cough, " that the lady's family would "
" No they wouldn't, ma'am," interrupted Ralph, hastily.
" Don't think it."
"If I am to understand that," said Miss La Creevy, "the
case wears a very different appearance."
" You may understand it then, ma'am," said Ralph, " and
make your arrangements accordingly. I am the family, ma'am
— at least, I believe I am the only relation they have, and I think
it right that you should know / can't support them in their ex-
travagances. How long have they taken these lodgings for .'' "
"Only from week to week," replied Miss La Creevy.
" Mrs. Nickleby paid the first week in advance."
" Then you had better get them out at the end of it," said
Ralph. " They can't do better than go back to the country,
ma'am ; they are in everybody's way here."
" Certainly," said Miss La Creevy, rubbing her hands, " if
Mrs. Nickleby took the apartments without the means of pay-
ing for them, it was very unbecoming a lady."
" Of course it was, ma'am," said Ralph.
"And naturally," continued Miss La Creevy, " I who am,
at present — hem — an unprotected female, cannot afford to lose
by the apartments."
"Of course you can't, ma'am," replied Ralph.
28 NICHOLAS KICKLEBY.
"Though at the same time," added Miss La Creevy, who
was plainly wavering between her good-nature and her inter-
est, " I have nothing whatever to say against the lady, who is
extremely pleasant and affable, though, poor thing, she seems
terribly low in her spirits ; nor against the young people
either, for nicer, or better-behaved young people cannot be."
"Very well, ma'am," said Ralph, turning to the door, for
these encomiums on poverty irritated him ; " I have done my
dutv, and perhaps more than I ought: of course nobody will
thank me for saying what I have."
" I am sure / am very much obliged to you at least, sir,"
said Miss La Creevy in a gracious manner. " Would you do me
the favor to look at a few specimens of my portrait painting? "
" You're very good, ma'am," said Mr. Nickleby, making
ofif with great speed ; "but as I have a visit to pay up stairs,
and my time is precious, I really can't."
" At any other time when you are passing, I shall be most
happy," said Miss La Creevy. " Perhaps you will have the
kindness to take a card of terms with you ? Thank you —
good-morning ! "
"Good-morning, ma'am," said Ralph, shutting the door
abruptly after him 'to prevent any further conversation. " Now
for my sister-in-law. Bah ! "
Climbing up another perpendicular flight, composed with
great mechanical ingenuity of nothing but corner stairs, Mr.
Ralph Nickleby stopped to take breath on the landing, when
he was overtaken by the handmaid, whom the politeness of
of Miss La Creevy had despatched to announce him, and who
had apparently been making a variety of unsuccessful attempts
since their last interview, to wipe her dirty face clean, upon an
apron much dirtier.
" What name ? " said the girl.
" Nickleby," replied Ralph.
" Oh ! Mrs. Nickleby," said the girl, throwing open the
door, "here's Mr. Nickleby."
A lady in deep mourning rose as Mr. Ralph Nickleby
entered, but appeared incapable of advancing to meet him,
and leant upon the arm of a slight but very beautiful girl of
about seventeen, who had beei^ sitting by her. A youth, who
appeared a }ear or two older, stepped forward and saluted
Ralph as his uncle.
" Oh," growled Ralph, with an ill-favored frown, " you are
Nicholas, I suppose."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 29
"That is my name, sir," replied the youth.
" Put my hat down," said Ralph, imperiously. " Well,
ma'am, how do you do .? You must bear up against sorrow,
ma'am : /always do."
" Mine was no common loss ! " said Mrs. Nickleby, apply-
ing her handkerchief to her eyes.
"It was no ?^;/common loss, ma'am," returned Ralph, as
he coolly unbuttoned his spencer. " Husbands die every
day, ma'am, and wives too."
" And brothers also, sir," said Nicholas, with a glance of
indignation.
" Yes, sir, and puppies, and pug-dogs likewise," replied
his uncle, taking a chair. " You didn't mention in your letter
what my brother's complaint was, ma'am."
" The doctors could attribute it to no particular disease,"
said Mrs. Nickleby, shedding tears. " We have too much
reason to fear that he died of a broken heart."
" Pooh ! " said Ralph, " there's no such thing. I can
understand a man's dying of a broken neck, or suffering from
a broken arm, or a broken head, or a broken leg, or a broken
nose ; but a broken heart ! — nonsense, it's the cant of the day.
If a man can't pay his debts, he dies of a broken heart, and
his widow's a martyr."
" Some people, I believe, have no hearts to break," ob-
served Nicholas, quietly.
" How old is this boy, for God's sake? " inquired Ralph,
wheeling back his chair, and surveying his nephew from head
to foot with intensq .scorn.
"Nicholas is very nearly nineteen," replied the widow.
" Nineteen, eh ! " said Ralph, " and what do you mean to
do for your bread, sir ?■ "
" Not to live upon my mother," replied Nicholas, his heart
swelling as he spoke.
"You'd have little enough to live upon, if you did," re-
torted the uncle, eyeing him contemptuously.
" Whatever it be," said Nicholas, flushed with anger, " I
shall not look to you to make it more."
"Nicholas, my dear, recollect yourself," remonstrated Mrs.
Nickleby.
" Dear Nicholas, pray," urged the young lady.
" Hold your tongue, sir," said Ralph. " Upon my word !
Fine beginnings, Mrs. Nickleby — fine beginnings ! "
Mrs. Nickleby made no other reply than entreating Nicho-
3°
NICFTOLAS NICKLEB Y.
las by a gesture to keep silent ; and the uncle and nephew
looked at each other for some seconds without speaking. The
face of the old man was stern, hard-featured and forbidding ;
that of the young one, open, handsome, and mgenuous. The
old man's eye was keen with the twinklings of avarice and
cunning ; the young man's, bright with the light of intelligence
and spirit. His figure was somewhat slight, but manly and
well-formed ; and, apart from all the grace of youth and come-
liness, there was an emanation from the warm young heart in
his look and bearing which kept the old man down.
However striking such a contrast as this may be to look-
ers-on, none ever feel it with half the keenness or acuteness
of perfection with which it strikes to the ver}' soul of him
: whose inferiority it marks. / It called Ralph to the heart's
i coreTancT he hated Nicholas fToiri Lliat hour. .
The mutual inspection was at length brought to a close by
Ralph withdrawing his eyes, with a great show of disdain,
and calling Nicholas " a boy." This word is much used as a
term of reproach by elderly gentlemen towards their juniors :
probably with the view of deluding society into the belief
that if they could be young again, they wouldn't on any ac-
count.
"Well, ma'am," said Ralph, impatiently, "the creditors
have administered, you tell me, and there's nothing left for
you ? "
" Nothing," replied Mrs. Nickleby.
" And you spent what little money you had, in coming all
the way to London, to see what I could do for you ? " pursued
Ralph.
"I hoped," faltered Mrs. Nickleby, " that you might have
an opportunity of doing something for your brother's children.
It was his dying wish that I should appeal to you in their be-
half."
" I don't know how it is," muttered Ralph, walking up and
down the room, " but whenever a man dies without any prop-
I erty of his own, he always seems to think he has a right t<7
! dispose of other people's. What is your daughter fit for,
ma'am .-' "
" Kate has been well educated," sobbed Mrs. Nickleby.
" Tell your uncle, my dear, how far you went in French and
extras."
Tiie poor girl was about to murmur something, when her
uncle stopped her, very unceremoniously.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 31
"We must try and get you apprenticed at some boarding-
school," said Ralph. " You have not been brought up too
delicately for that, I hope?"
" No, indeed, uncle," replied the weeping girl. " I will
try to do anything that will gain me a home and bread."
"Well, well," said Ralph, a little softened, either by his
niece's beauty or her distress (stretch a point, and say the
latter). " You must try it, and if the life is too hard, perhaps
dress-making or tambour-work will come lighter. Have yoii
ever done anything, sir? " (turning to his nephew.)
" No," replied Nicholas, bluntly.
" No, I thought not ! " said Ralph. " This is the way my
brother brought up his children, ma'am."
" Nicholas has not long completed such education as his
poor father could give him," rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, "and
he was thinking of — "
"Of making something of him some day," said Ralph.
"The old story; always thinking, and never doing. If my
brother had been a m aii "oF""a'c'tT\' i t vai-i d prudence, he might
have left you a rich womlrT; ma am ; and if he had turned his
son into the world, 'T-S my father turned me, when I wasn't as
old as that boy by"Tryear"*aml a half, he would have been in a
situation to help you, instead of being a burden upon you,
and increasing your distress. CMy brother was a thoughtless,
inconsiderate man, Mrs. Nickleby, and nobody, I am sure,
can have better reason to feel that, than you."
This appeal set the widow upon thinking that perhaps she
might have made a more successful venture with her one
thousand pounds, and then she began to reflect what a com-
fortable sum it would have been just then ; which dismal
thoughts made her tears flow faster, and in the excess of these
griefs she (being a well-meaning woman enough, but weak
withal) fell first to deploring her hard fate, and then to remark-
ing, with many sobs, that to be sure she had been a slave to
poor Nicholas, and had often told him she might have mar-
ried better (as indeed she had, very often), and that she never
knew in his lifetime how the money went, but that if he had
confided in her they might all have been better off that day ;
with other bitter recollections common to most married ladies,
either during their coverture, or afterwards, or at both periods.
Mrs. Nickleby concluded by lamenting that the dear departed
had never deigned to profit by her advice, save on one occa-
sion : which was a strictly veracious statement, inasmuch as
32 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
he had only acted upon it once, and had ruined himself in
consequence.
Mr. Ralph Nickleby heard all this with a half smile ; and
when the widow had finished, quietly took up the subject
where it had been left before the above outbreak.
" Are you willing to work, sir } " he inquired, frowning on
his nephew.
" Of course I am," replied Nicholas haughtily.
"Then, see here, sir," said his uncle. "This caught my
eye this morning, and you may thank your stars for it."
With this exordium, Mr. Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper
from his pocket, and after unfolding it, and looking for a
short time among the advertisements, read as follows :
" ' Education. — At Mr. Wackford Squeers's Academy,
Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near
Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youth are boarded, clothed,
booked, furnished with pocket-money, provided with all ne-
cessaries, instructed in all languages living and dead, mathe-
matics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the
use of the globes, algebra, single stick (if required), writing,
arithmetic, fortification, and every other branch of classical
literature. Terms, twenty guineas per annum. No extras,
no vacations, and diet unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town,
and attends daily, from one till four, at the Saracen's Head,
Snow Hill. N. B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary
;^5. A Master of Arts would be preferred.'
" There ! " said Ralph, folding the paper again. " Let him
get that situation, and his fortune is made."
" But he is not a Master of Arts " said Mrs. Nickleby.
"That," replied Ralph, "that I think, can be got ovei."
" But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off,,
uncle ! " faltered Kate.
" Hush, Kate, my dear," interposed Mrs. Nickleby ; "your
uncle must know best."
"I say," repeated Ralph, tartly, "let him get that
situation, and his fortune is made. If he don't like that, let
him get one for himself. Witliout friends, money, recom-
mendation, or knowledge of business of any kind, let him find
honest employment in London which will keep him in shoe
leather, and I'll gi\e him a thousand pounds. At least," said
Mr. Ralph Nickleby, checking himself, "I would if I had it."
" Poor fellow ! " said the young lady. "Oh ! uncle, must
we be separated so soon ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 33
" Don't tease your uncle with questions when he is think-
ing only for our good, my love," said Mrs. Nickleby. " Nich-
olas, my dear, 1 wish you would say something."
" Yes, mother, yes," said Nicholas, who had hitherto
remained silent and absorbed in thought. " If I am fortunate
enough to be appointed to this post, sir, for which I am so
imperfectly qualified, what will become of those I leave be-
hind ? "
" Your mother and sister, sir," replied Ralph, " will be
provided for, in that case (not otherwise), by me, and placed
in some sphere of life in which they will be able to be indepen- ■
dent. That will be my immediate care ; they will not remain
as they are, one week after your departure, I will undertake."
" Then," said Nicholas, starting gayly up, and wringing his
uncle's hand, " I am ready to do anything you wish me. Let
us try our fortune with Mr. Squeers at once; he can but
refuse."
" He won't do that," said Ralph. " He will be glad to
have you on my recommendation. Make yourself of use to
him, and you'll rise to be a partner in the establishment in no
time. Bless me, only think ! if he were to die, why your
fortune's made at once."
" To be sure, I see it all," said poor Nicholas, delighted
with a thousand visionar}' ideas, that his good spirits and his
inexperience were conjuring up before him. " Or suppose
some young nobleman who is being educated at the Hall,
were to take a fancy to me, and get his father to appoint me
his travelling tutor when he left, and when we come back from
the continent, procured me some handsome appointment.
Eh ! uncle ? "
" Ah, to be sure ! " snarled Ralph.
" And who knows, but when he came to see me when I
was settled (as he would of course), he might fall in love with
Kate, who would be keeping my house, and — and — marry her,
eh ! uncle ? Who knows ? "
"Who, indeed ! " snarled Ralph.
" How happy we should be ! " cried Nicholas with en-
thusiasm. "The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of
meeting again. Kate will be a beautiful woman, and I so
proud to hear them say so, and mother so happy to be with
us once again, and all these sad times forgotten, and "
The picture was too bright a one to bear, and Nicholas, fairly
overpowered by it, smiled faintly, and burst into tears.
3
\
34
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y
This simple family, born and bred in retirement, and
wholly unacquainted with what is called the world — a con-
ventional phrase which, being interpreted, often signifieth all
the rascals in it — mingled their tears together at the thought
of their first separation ; and, this first gush of feeling over,
were proceeding to dilate with all the buoyancy of untried
hope on the bright prospects before them, when Mr. Ralph
Nickleby suggested, that if they lost time, some more fortunate
candidate might deprive Nicholas of the stepping-stone to
fortune which the advertisement pointed out, and so under-
mine all their air-built castles. This timely reminder effectually
stopped the conversation. Nicholas, having carefully copied
the address of Mr. Squeers, the uncle and nephew issued
forth together in quest of that accomplished gentleman :
Nicholas firmly persuading himself that he had done his
relative great injustice in disliking him at first sight ; and Mrs.
Nickleby being at some pains to inform her daughter that she
was sure he was a much more kindly disposed person than he
seemed ; which, Miss Nickleby dutifully remarked, he might
very easily be.
To tell the truth, the good lady's opinion had been not a
little influenced by her brother-in-law's appeal to her better
understanding, and his implied compliment to her high deserts ;
and although she had dearly loved her husband, and still
doted on her children, he had struck so successfully on one
of those little jarring chords in the human heart (Ralph was
well acquainted with its worst weaknesses, though he knew
nothing of its best), that she had already begun seriously to
consider herself the amiable and suffering victim of her late
husband's imprudence.
CHAPTER IV.
NICHOLAS AND HIS UNCLE (tO SECURE THE FORTUNE WITHOUT
LOSS OF time) wait UPON MR. WACKFORD SQUEERS, THE
YORKSHIRE SCHOOLMASTER.
Snow Hill ! What kind of place can the quiet town's-
people who see the words emblazoned, in all the legibility of
gilt letters and dark shading, on the north-country coaches,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 35
take Snow Hill to be ? All people have some undefined and
shadowy notion of a place whose name is frequently before
their eyes, or often in their ears. What a vast number of
random ideas there must be perpetually floating about, regard-
ing this same Snow Hill. The name is such a good one.
Snow Hill — Snow Hill too, coupled with a Saracen's Head :
picturing to us by a double association of ideas, something
stern and rugged ! A bleak desolate tract of country, open
to piercing blasts and fierce wintry storms — a dark, cold,
gloomy heath, lonely by day, and scarcely to be thought of by
honest folks at night — a place which solitary wayfarers shun,
and where desperate robbers congregate ; — this, or something
like this, should be the prevalent notion of Snow Hill, in those
remote and rustic parts, through which the Saracen's Head,
like some grim apparition, rushes each day and ni^h^ with
mysterious and ghost-like punctuality ; holding its swift and
headlong course in all weathers, and seeming to bid defiance
to the very elements themselves.
The reality is rather different, but by no means to be de-
spised notwithstanding. There, at the very core of London,
in the heart of its business and animation, in the midst of a
whirl of noise and motion : stemming as it were the giant
currents of life that flow ceaselessly on from different quarters,
and meet beneath its walls : stands Newgate ; and in that
crowded street on which it frowns so darkly — -within a few feet
of the squalid tottering houses — upon the very spot on which
the venders of soup and fish and damaged fruit are now
plying their trades — scores of human beings, amidst a roar of
sounds to which even tl-^e tumult of a great city is as nothing,
four, six, or eight strong men at a time, have been hurried
violently and swiftly from the world, when the scene has been
rendered frightful with excess of human life \ when curious
eyes have glared from casement, and house-top, and wall and
pillar ; and when, in the mass of white and upturned faces,
the dying wretch, in his all-comprehensive look of agony, has
met not one — not one — that bore the impress of pity or com-
passion.
Near to the jail, and by consequence near to Smithfield
also, and the Compter, and the bustle and noise of the city ;
and just on that particular part of Snow Hill where omnibus
horses going eastward seriously think of falling down on pur-
pose, and where horses in hackney cabriolets going westward
not unfrequently fall by accident, is the coach yard of the
»6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Saracen's Head Inn ; its portal guarded by two Saracens'
heads and shoulders, which it was once the pride and glory
of the choice spirits of this metropolis to pull down at night,
but which have for some time remained in undisturbed tran-
quillity ; possibly because this species of humor is now con-
fined to Saint James's parish, where door knockers are preferred
as being more portable, and bell-wires esteemed as convenient
tooth-picks. Whether this be the reason or not, there they
are, frowning upon you from each side of the gateway. The
inn itself, garnished with another Saracen's Head, frowns
upon you from the top of the yard ; while from the door of
the hind boot of all the red coaches that are standing therein,
there glares a small Saracen's Head, with a twin expression
to the large Saracens' Heads below, so that the general ap-
pearance of the pile is decidedly of the Saracenic order.
When you walk up this yard, you will see the booking-
ofifice on your left, and the tow^er of St. Sepulchre's church,
darting abruptly up into the sky, on your right, and a gallery
of bed-rooms on both sides. Just before you, you will observe
a long window with the words " coffee-room " legibly painted
above it ; and looking out of that window, you would have
seen in addition, if you had gone at the right time, Mr. Wack-
ford Squeers with his hands in his pockets.
Mr. Squeers's appearance was not prepossessing. He
had but one eye, and the popular prejudice runs in favor of
two. The eye he had, was unquestionably useful, but de-
cidedly not ornamental : being of a greenish gray, and in
shape resembling the fan-light of a street door. The blank
side of his face was much wrinkled . and puckered up, which
gave him a very sinister appearance, especially when he smiled,
at which times his expression bordered closely on the villainous.
His hair was very flat and shiny, save at the ends, where it
was brushed stilifly up from a low protruding forehead, which
assorted well with his harsh voice and coarse manner. He
was about two or three and fifty, and a trifle below the mid-
dle size ; he wore a white neckerchief with long ends, and a
suit of scholastic black ; but his coat sleeves being a great
deal too long, and his trousers a great deal too short, he ap-
peared ill at ease in his clothes, and as if he were in a per-
petual state of astonishment at finding himself so respectable.
Mr. Squeers was standing in a box by one of the coffee-
room fire-places, fitted with one such table as is usually seen
in coffee-rooms, and two of extraordinar}- shapes and dimen-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 37
sions made to suit the angles of the partition. In a corner of
the seat, was a very small deal trunk, tied round with a scanty
piece of cord ; and on the trunk was perched — his lace-up
half-boots and corduroy trousers dangling in the air — a dimin-
utive boy, with his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and his
hands planted on his knees, who glanced timidly at the
schoolmaster, from time to time, with evident dread and ap-
prehension.
" Half-past three," muttered Mr. Squeers, turning from
the window, and looking sulkily at the coffee-room clock.
" There will be nobody here to-day."
Much vexed by this reflection, Mr. Squeers looked at the
little boy to see whether he was doing anything he could beat
him for. As he happened not to be doing anything at all, he
merely boxed his ears, and told him not to do it again.
" At Midsummer," muttered Mr. Squeers, resuming his
complaint, " I took down ten boys ; ten twentys is two hun-
dred pound. I go back at eight o'clock to-morrow morning,
and have got only three — three oughts is an ought — three
twos is six — sixty pound. What's come of all the boys ?
what's parents got in their heads ? what does it all mean ? "
Here the little boy on the top of the trunk gave a violent
sneeze.
" Halloa, sir ! " growled the schoolmaster, turning round.
" What's that, sir .? "
" Nothing, please sir," said the little boy.
"Nothing, sir !" exclaimed Mr. Squeers.
" Please, sir, I sneezed," rejoined the boy, trembling till
the little trunk shook under him.
" Oh ! sneezed, did you ? " retorted Mr. Squeers. " Then
what did you say ' nothing ' for, sir ? "
In default of a better answer to this question, the little
boy screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and
began to cry, wherefore Mr. Squeers knocked him off the
trunk with a blow on one side of his face, and knocked him
on again with a blow on the other.
" Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young
gentleman," said Mr. Squeers, " and then I'll give you the
rest. Will you hold that noise, sir ? "
"Ye — ye — yes," sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face
very hard with the Beggar's Petition in printed calico.
"Then do so at once, sir," said Squeers. "Do you
hear?"
38 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening
gesture, and uttered with a savage aspect, the httle boy
rubbed his face harder, as if to keep the tears back ; and,
beyond alternately snitfing and choking, gave no further vent
to his emotions.
" Mr. Squeers," said the waiter, loolcing in at this junc-
ture ; "here's a gentleman asking for you at the bar."
" Show the gentleman in, Richard," replied Mr. Squeers, in
a soft voice. " Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you little
scoundrel, or I'll murder you when the gentleman goes."
The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a
fierce whisper, when the stranger entered. Affecting not to
see him, Mr. Squeers feigned to be intent upon mending a
pen, and offering benevolent advice to his youthful pupil.
" My dear child," said Mr. Squeers, " all people have their
trials. This early trial of yours that is fit to make your little
heart burst, and your very eyes come out of your head with
crying, what is it ? Nothing-; less than nothing. You are
leaving your friends, but you will have a father in me, my
dear, and a mother in Mrs. Squeers. At the delightful village
of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth
are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with pocket
money, provided with all necessaries — "
" It is the gentleman," observed the stranger, stopping
the schoolmaster in the rehearsal of his advertisement. " Mr.
Squeers, I believe, sir ? "
" The same, sir," said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption of
extreme surprise.
" The gentleman," said the stranger, " that advertised in
the Times newspaper .'' "
— " Morning Post, Chronicle, Herald, and Advertiser, re-
garding the Academy called Dotheboys Hall at the delightful
village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire," added
Mr. Squeers. " You come on business, sir. I see by my
young friends. How do you do, my little gentleman } and
how do you do sir t " With this salutation Mr. Squeers pat-
ted the heads of two hollow-eyed, small-boned little boys,
whom the applicant had brought with him, and waited for fur-
ther communications.
" I am in the oil and color way. My name is Snawley,
sir," said the stranger.
Squeers inclined his head as much as to say, "And a re*
markably pretty name, too."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 3^
The stranger continued. " I have been thinking, Mr.
Squeers, of placing my two boys at your school."
" It is not for me to say so, sir," replied Mr. Squeers,
"but I don't think you could possibly do a better thing."
" Hem ! " said the other. " Twenty pounds per annewum,
I believe, Mr. Squeers ? "
" Guineas," rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive
smile.
" Pounds for two, I think, Mr. Squeers," said Mr. Snaw-
ley, solemnly.
" I don't think it could be done, sir," replied Squeers, as if
he had never considered the proposition before. " Let me see ;
four fives is twenty, double that, and deduct the — well, a
pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must rec-
ommend me to your connection, sir, and make it up that
way."
" They are not great eaters," said Mr. Snawley.
" Oh! that doesn't matter at all," replied Squeers. "We
don't consider the boys' appetites at our establishment." This
was strictly true ; they did not.
" Every wholesome luxury, sir, that Yorkshire can afford,"
continued Squeers : " every beautiful moral that Mrs. Squeers
can instil \ every — in short, every comfort of a home that a
boy could wish for, will be theirs, Mr. Snawley."
" I should wish their morals to be particularly attended
to," said Mr. Snawley.
" I am glad of that, sir," replied the schoolmaster, draw-
ing himself up. " They have come to the right shop for mor-
als, sir."
" You are a moral man yourself," said Mr. Snawley.
"I rather believe I am, sir," replied Squeers.
" I have the satisfaction to know you are, sir," said Mr.
Snawley. " I asked one of your references, and he said 3'ou
were pious."
" Well, sir, I hope I am a little in that line," replied
Squeers.
" I hope I am also," rejoined the other. " Could I say a
few words with you in the next box } "
" By all means," rejoined Squeers with a grin. " My dears,
will you speak to your new playfellow a minute or two ? That
is one of my boys, sir. Belling his name is, — a Taunton boy
that, sir."
" Is he, indeed ? " rejoined Mr. Snawley, looking at the
40 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
poor little urchin as if he were some extraordinary natural
curiosity.
" He goes clown with me to-morrow, sir," said Squeers.
" That's his luggage that he is a sitting upon now. Each boy
is required to bring, sir, two suits of clothes, six shirts, six
pair of stockings, two nightcaps, two pocket-handkerchiefs,
two pair of shoes, two hats, and a razor."
" A razor ! " exclaimed Mr. Snawley, as they walked into
the next box. " What for ? "
"To shave with," replied Squeers, in a slow and measured
tone.
There was not much in these three words, but there must
have been something in the manner in which they were said,
to attract attention ; for the schoolmaster and his companion
looked steadily at each other for a few seconds, and then ex-
changed a very meaning smile.,, Snawley was a sleek, flat-
nosed man, clad in sombre garments, and long black gaiters,
and bearing in his countenance an expression of much morti-
fication and sanctity ; so, his smiling without any obvious rea-
son was the more remarkable.
" Up to what age do you keep boys at your school then ? "
he asked at length.
"Just as long as their friends make the quarterly payments
to my agent in town, or until such time as they run away," re-
plied Squeers. " Let us understand each other ; I see we may
safely do so. What are these boys ; — natural children ? "
" No," rejoined Snawley, meeting the gaze of the school-
master's one eye. "They ain't."
" I thought they might be," said Squeers, coolly. " We
have a good many of them ; that boy's one."
" Him in the next box ? " said Snawley.
Squeers nodded in the affirmative ; his companion took
another peep at the little boy on the trunk, and turning round
again, looked as if he were quite disappointed to see him so
much like other boys, and said he should hardly have thought it.
" He is," cried Squeers. " But about these boys of yours ;
you wanted to speak to me ? "
" Yes," replied Snawley. " The fact is, I am not their
father, Mr. Squeers. I'm only their father-in-law."
" Oh ! Is that it ? " said the schoolmaster. " That ex-
plains it at once. I was wondering what the devil you were
going to send them to Yorkshire for. Ha ! ha ! Oh, I under-
stand now."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 41
" You see I have married the mother," pursued Snawley ;
" it's expensive keeping boys at home, and as she has a Uttle
money in her own right, I am afraid (women are so very fool-
ish, Mr. Squeers) that she might be led to squander it on them,
which would be their ruin, you know."
" / see," returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his
chair, and waving his hand.
" And this," resumed Snawley, "has made me anxious to
put them to some school a good distance olT, where there are
no holidays — none of those ill-judged comings home twice a
year that unsettles children's minds so — and where they may
rough it a little — you comprehend ? "
^" The payments regular, and no questions asked," said
Squeers, nodding his head.
" That's it exactly," rejoined the other. " Morals strictly
attended to, though."
"Strictly," said Squeers.
" Not too much writing home allowed, I suppose ? " said
the father-in-law, hesitating.
" None, except a circular at Christmas, to say they never
were so happy, and hope they may never be sent for," rejoined
Squeers.
" Nothing could be better," said the father-in-law, rubbing
his hands.-
"Then, as we understand each other," said Squeers, "will
you allow me to ask you whether you consider me a highly
virtuous, exemplary, and well-conducted man in private life ;
and whether, as a person whose business it is to take charge
of youth, you place the strongest confidence in my unim-
peachable integrity, liberality, religious principles, and
ability ? "
" Certainly I do," replied the father-in-law, reciprocating
the schoolmaster's grin.
" Perhaps you won't object to say that, if I make you a
reference ? "
" Not the least in the world."
" That's your sort ! " said Squeers, taking up a pen ; " this
is doing business, and that's what I like."
Having entered Mr. Snawley's address, the schoolmaster
had next to perform the still more agreeable office of entering
the receipt of the first quarter's payment in advance, which
he had scarcely completed, when another voice was heard in-
quiring for Mr. Squeers.
42 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Here he is," replied the schoolmaster; " what is it ? "
" Only a matter of business, sir," said Ralph Nickleby,
presenting himself, closely followed by Nicholas. " There
was an advertisement of yours in the papers this morn-
ing?"
*' There was, sir. This way, if you please," said Squeers,
who had by this time got back to the box by the fire-place.
"Won't you be seated?"
" Why, I think I will," replied Ralph, suiting the action to
the word, and placing his hat on the table before him. " This
is my nephew, sir, Mr. Nicholas Nickleby."
" How do you do, sir ? " said Squeers.
Nicholas bowed, said he was very well, and seemed very
much astonished at the outward appearance of the proprietor
of Dotheboys Hall : as indeed he was.
" Perhaps you recollect me ? " said Ralph, looking nar-
rowly at the school master.
" You paid me a small account at each of my half-yearly
visits to town, for some years, I think, sir," replied Squeers.
"I did," rejoined Ralph.
" For the parents of a boy named Dorker, who unfortu-
nately— "
" — unfortunately died at Dotheboys Hall," said Ralph, fin-
ishing the sentence.
"I remember very well, sir," rejoined Squeers. "Ah!
Mrs. Squeers, sir, was as partial to that lad as if he had been
her own ; the attention, sir, that was bestowed upon that boy in
his illness ! Dry toast and warm tea offered him every night
and morning when he couldn't swallow anything — a candle in
his bed-room on the very night he died — the best dictionary
sent up for him to lay his head upon — I don't regret it though.
It is a pleasant thing to reflect that one did one's duty by
him."
Ralph smiled, as if he meant anything but smiling, and
looked round at the strangers present.
" These are only some pupils of mine," said Wackford
Squeers, pointing to the little boy on the trunk and the two
little boys on the floor, who had been staring at each other
without uttering a word, and writhing their bodies into most
remarkable contortions, according to the custom of little boys
when they first become acquainted. " This gentleman, sir, is
a parent who is kind enough to compliment me upon the course
of education adopted at Dotheboys Hall, which is situated,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 43
sir, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge
in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded, clothed, booked,
washed, furnished with pocket-money — "
" Yes, we know all about that, sir," interrupted Ralph,
testily. " It's in the advertisement."
" You are very right, sir ; it is in the advertisement," re-
plied Squeers.
"And in the matter of fact besides," interrupted Mr.
Snawley. " I feel bound to assure you, sir, and I am proud
to have this opportunity <?/■ assuring you, that I consider Mr.
Squeers a gentleman highly virtuous, exemplary, well-con-
ducted, and — "
" I make no doubt of it, sir," said Ralph, checking the
torrent of recommendation ; " no doubt of it at all. Suppose
we come to business ? "
" With all my heart, sir," rejoined Squeers. _ '_' ' Never
postpone business,' is the very first lesson we instil into our
commercial pupils. Master Belling, my dear, always remem-
ber that ; do you hear? "
"Yes, sir," repeated Master Belling.
" He recollects what it is, does he ? " said Ralph.
"Tell the gentleman," said Squeers.
" ' Never,' " repeated Master Belling.
" Very good," said Squeers ; " go on."
" Never," repeated Master Belling again.
*' Very good indeed," said Squeers. " Yes."
" P," suggested Nicholas, good-naturedly.
" Perform— business ! " said Master Belling. " Never—
perform — business ! "
" Very well, sir," said Squeers, darting a withering look at
the culprit. " You and I will perform a little business on our
private account by and by."
"And just now," said Ralph, " we had better transact our
own, perhaps."
" If you please," said Squeers.
" Well," resumed Ralph, " it's brief enough ; soon broach-
ed ; and I hope easily concluded. You have advertised for
an able assistant, sir t "
"Precisely so," said Squeers.
" And you really want one ? "
"Certainly," answered Squeers.
" Here he is ! " said Ralph. " My nephew Nicholas, hot
from school, with everything he learnt there, fermenting in his
44
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
head, and nothing fermenting in his pocket, is just the man
you want."
" I am afraid," said Squeers, perplexed with such an appli-
cation from a youth of Nicholas's figure, " I am afraid the
young man won't suit me."
" Yes, he will," said Ralph ; " I know better. Don't be
cast down, sir ; you will be teaching all the young noblemen in
Dotheboys Hall in less than a week's time, unless this gentle-
man is more obstinate than I take him to be."
" I fear, sir," said Nicholas, addressing Mr. Squeers, " that
you object to my youth, and to my not being a Master of
Arts .? "
"The absence of a college degree is an objection," replied
Squeers, looking as grave as he could, and considerably puz-
zled, no less by the contrast between the simplicity of the
nephew and the worldly manner of his uncle, than by the in-
comprehensible allusion to the young noblemen under his
tuition.
" Look here, sir," said Ralph ; " I'll put this matter in its
true light in two seconds."
" If you'll have the goodness," rejoined Squeers.
"This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or a
hobbledehoy, or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen or
nineteen, or thereabouts," said Ralph.
" That I see," observed the schoolmaster.
"So do I," said Mr. Snawley, thinking it as well to back
his new friend occasionally.
" His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world,
has no resources whatever, and wants something to do," said
Ralph. " I recommend him to this splendid establishment of
yours, as an opening which will lead him to fortune if he turns
it to proper account. Do you see that ? "
" Everybody must see that," replied Squeers, half imita-
ting the sneer with which the old gentleman was regarding his
unconscious relative.
" I do, of course," said Nicholas, eagerly.
" He does, of course, you observe," said Ralph, in the
same dry, hard manner. " If any caprice of temper should
induce him to cast aside this golden opportunity before he has
brought it to perfection, I consider myself absoh'ed from ex-
tending any assistance to his mother and sister. Look at him,
and think of the use he may be to you in half a dozen ways !
Now, the question is, whether, for some time to come at all
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
45
events, he won't serve your purpose better than twenty of the
kind of people you would get under ordinary circumstances.
Isn't that a question for consideration ? "
" Yes, it is," said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph's
head with a nod of his own.
" Good," rejoined Ralph. " Let me have two words with
you."
The two words were had apart ; in a couple of minutes
Mr. Wackford Squeers announced that Mr. Nicholas Nickleby
was, from that moment, thoroughly nominated to, and in-
stalled in, the office of first assistant master at Dotheboys
Hall.
" Your uncle's recommendation has done it, Mr, Nickleby,"
said Wackford Squeers.
Nicholas, overjc^-ed at his success, shook his uncle's hand
warmly, and could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the
spot.
" He is an odd-looking man," thought Nicholas. " What
of that ? Porson was an odd-looking man, and so was Dr.
Johnson ; all these bookworms are."
" At eight o'clock to-morrow morning, Mr. Nickleby," said
Squeers, " the coach starts. You must be here at a quarter
before, as we take these boys with us."
"Certainly, sir," said Nicholas.
"And your fare down, I have paid," growled Ralph.
" So, you'll have nothing to do but keep yourself warm."
Here was another instance of his uncle's generosit}'^ !
Nicholas felt his unexpected kindness so much, that he could
scarcely tind words to thank him ; indeed, he had not found
half enough, when they took leave of the schoolmaster, and
emerged from the Saracen's Head gateway.
" I shall be here in the morning to see you fairly off," said
Ralph. "No skulking!"
" Thank you, sir," replied Nicholas ; " I never shall forget
this kindness."
" Take care you don't," replied his uncle. " You had
better go home now, and pack up what you have got to pack.
Do you think you could find your way to Golden Square
first?"
"Certainly," said Nicholas. " I can easily inquire."
" Leave these papers with my clerk, then," said Ralph,
producing a small parcel, " and tell him to wait till I come
home."
46 NICHOLAS mCKLEBY.
Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his
worthy uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm-hearted
old gentleman acknowledged by a growl, hastened away to
execute his commission.
He found Golden Square in due course ; Mr. Noggs, who
had stepped out for a minute or so to the public-house, was
opening the door with a latch-key as he reached the steps.
" What's that ? " inquired Noggs, pointing to the parcel.
" Papers from my uncle," replied Nicholas ; " and you're
to have the goodness to wait till he comes home, if you
please."
" Uncle ! " cried Noggs.
"Mr. Nickleby," said Nicholas in explanation.
" Come in," said Newman.
Without another word he led Nicholas into the passage,
and thence into the official pantry at the end of it, where he
thrust him into a chair, and mounting upon his high stool,
with his arms hanging straight down by his sides, gazing
fixedly upon him, as from a tower of observation.
" There is no answer," said Nicholas, laying the parcel on
a table beside him.
Newman said nothing, but folding his arms, and thrusting
his head forward so as to obtain a nearer view of Nicholas's
face, scanned his features closely.
"No answer," said Nicholas, speaking very loud, under
the impression that Newman Noggs was deaf.
Newman placed his hands upon his knees, and, without
uttering a syllable, continued the same close scrutiny of his
companion's face.
This was such a very singular proceeding on the part of an
utter stranger, and his appearance was so extremely peculiar,
that Nicholas, who had a sufficiently keen sense of the ridic-
ulous, could not refrain from breaking into a smile as he in-
quired whether Mr. Noggs had any commands for him.
Noggs shook his head and sighed ; upon which Nicholas
rose, and remarking that he required no rest, bade him good-
morning.
It was a great exertion for Newman Noggs, and nobody
knows to this day how he ever came to make it, the other
party being wholly unknown to him, but he drew a long breath
and actually said, out loud, without once stopping, that if the
young gentleman did not object to tell, he should like to know
what his uncle was going to do for him.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 47
Nicholas had not the least objection in the world, but on
the contrary was rather pleased to have an opportunity of
talking on the subject which occupied his thoughts ; so, he
sat down again, and (his sanguine imagination warming as
he spoke) entered into a fervent and glowing description of
all the honors and advantages to be derived from his ap-
pointment at that seat of learning, Dotheboys Hall.
" But, what's the matter — are you ill ? " said Nicholas,
suddenly breaking off, as his companion, after throwing him-
self into a variety of uncouth attitudes, thrust his hands under
the stool, and cracked his finger-joints as if he were snapping
all the bones in his hands.
Newman Noggs made no reply, but went on shrugging his
shoulders and cracking his finger-joints ; smiling horribly all
the time, and looking steadfastly at nothing, out of the tops
of his eyes, in a most ghastly manner.
At first, Nicholas thought the mysterious man was in a fit,
but, on further consideration, decided that he was in liquor,
under which circumstances he deemed it prudent to make off
at once. He looked back when he had got the street-door
open. Newman Noggs was still indulging in the same extra-
ordinary gestures, and the cracking of his lingers sounded
louder than ever.
CHAPTER V.
NICHOLAS STARTS FOR YORKSHIRE. OF HIS LEAVE-TAKING AND
HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLERS, AND WHAT BEFELL THEM ON THE
ROAD.
If tears dropped into a trunk were charms to preserve its
owner from sorrow and misfortune, Nicholas Nickleby would
have commenced his expedition under most happy auspices.
There was so much to be done, and so little time to do it in ;
so many kind words to be spoken, and such bitter pain in the
hearts in which they rose to impede their utterance ; that the
little preparations for his journey were made mournfully in-
deed. x\ hundred things which the anxious care of his mother
and sister deemed indispensable' for his comfort, Nicholas in-
sisted on leaving behind, as they might prove of some after
48 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
use, or might be convertible into money if occasion required.
A hundred affectionate contests on such points as these, took
place on the sad night which preceded his departure ; and, as
the termination of every angerless dispute brought them nearer
and nearer to the close of their slight preparations, Kate grew
busier and busier, and wept more silently.
The box was packed at last, and then there came supper,
with some little delicacy provided for the occasion, and as a
set-off against the expense of which, Kate and her mother had
feigned to dine when Nicholas was out. The poor lad nearly
choked himself by attempting to partake of it, and almost suf-
focated himself in affecting a jest or two, and forcing a melan-
choly laugh. Thus they lingered on till the hour of separa-
ting for the night was long past ; and then they found that they
might as well have given vent to their real feelings before, for
they could not suppress them, do what they would. So, they
let them have their way, and even that was a relief.
Nicholas slept well till six next morning ; dreamed of home,
or of what was home once — no matter which, for things that
are changed or gone will come back as they used to be, thank
God ! in sleep — and rose quite brisk and gay. He wrote a
few lines in pencil, to say the good-by which he was afraid to
pronounce himself, and laying them, with half his scanty stock
of money, at his sister's door, shouldered his box and crept
softly down stairs.
" Is that you, Hannah ? " cried a voice from Miss La
Greevy's sitting-room, whence shone the light of a feeble candle.
"It is I, Miss La Greevy," said Nicholas, putting down the
box and looking in.
" Bless us ! " exclaimed Miss La Greevy, starting and put-
ting her hand to her curl-papers ; " You're up very early, Mr.
Nickleby."
" So are you," replied Nicholas.
" It's the fine arts that bring me out of bed, Mr. Nickle-
by," returned the lady. " I'm waiting for the light to carry
out an idea."
Miss La Greevy had got up early to put a fancy nose into
a miniature of an ugly little boy, destined for his grandmother
in the country, who was expected to bequeath him property if
he was like the family.
" To carry out an idea," repeated Miss La Greevy ; " and
that's the great convenience of living in a thoroughfare like
the Strand. When I want a nose or an eye for any particular
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 4g
sitter, I have only to look out of window and wait till I get
one."
" Does it take long to get a nose, now ? " inquired Nicholas.
"Why, that depends in a great measure on the pattern,"
replied Miss La Greevy. " Snubs and romans are plentiful
enough, and there are flats of all sorts and sizes- when there's
a meeting at Exeter Hall ; but perfect aquilines, I am soriy to
say, are scarce, and we generally use them for uniforms or
public characters."
" Indeed ! " said Nicholas. " If I should meet with any in
my travels, I'll endeavor to sketch them for you."
" You don't mean to say that you are really going all the way
down into Yorkshire this cold winter's weather, Mr. Nickleby 1 "
said Miss La Greevy. " I heard something of it last night."
" I do indeed," replied Nicholas. " Needs must, you
know, when somebody drives. Necessity is my driver, and
that is only another name for the same gentleman."
"Well, I am very sorry for it; that's all I can say," said
Miss La Greevy ; " as much on your mother's and sister's ac-
count as on yours. Your sister is a very pretty young lady,
Mr. Nickleby, and that is an additional reason why she should
have somebody to protect her. I persuaded her to give me a
sitting or two, for the street door case. Ah ! she'll make a
sweet miniature." As Miss La Greevy spoke, she held up an
ivory countenance intersected with very perceptible sky-blue
veins, and regarded it with so much complacency, that
Nicholas quite envied her.
" If you ever have an opportunity of showing Kate some
little kindness," said Nicholas, presenting his hand, " I think
you will."
" Depend upon that," said the good natured miniature
painter ; " and God bless you, Mr. Nickleby ; and I wish you
well."
" It was very little that Nicholas knew of the world, but he
guessed enough about its ways to think, that if he gave Miss
La Greevy one little kiss, perhaps she might not be the less
kindly disposed towards those he was leaving behind. So he
gave her three or four with a kind of jocose gallantry, and Miss
La Greevy evinced no greater symptoms of displeasure than
declaring, as she adjusted her yellow turban, that she had
never heard of such a thing, and couldn't have believed it
possible.
Having terminated the unexpected interview in this satis-
4
2 o NIC HO L A S NICKLEB Y.
factory manner, Nicholas hastily withdrew himself from the
house. By the time he had found a man to carry his box it
was only seven o'clock, so he walked slowly ,on, a little in ad-
vance of the porter, and very probably with not half as light
a heart in his breast as the man had, although he had no waist-
coat to cover it with, and had evidently, from the appearance
of his other garments, been spending the night in a stable,
and taking his breakfast at a pump.
Regarding, with no small curiosity and interest, all the
busy preparations for the coming day which every street and
almost every house displayed ; and thinking, now and then,
that it seemed rather hard that so many people of all ranks
and stations could earn a livelihood in London, and that he
should be compelled to journey so far in search of one ; Nich-
olas speedily arrived at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. Hav-
ing dismissed his attendant, and seen the box safely deposited
in the coach-office, he looked into the coffee-room in search of
Mr. Squeers.
He found that learned gentleman sitting at breakfast, with
the three little boys before noticed, and two others who had
turned up by some lucky chance since the interview of the
previous day, ranged in a row on the opposite seat. Mr.
Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate of
hot toast, and a cold round of beef ; but he was at that mo-
ment intent on preparing breakfast for the little boys.
"This is twopenn'orth of milk, is it waiter? "said Mr.
Squeers, looking down into a large blue, mug, and slanting it
gently, so as to get an accurate view of the quantity of liquid
contained in it.
" That's twopenn'orth, sir," replied the waiter.
" What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London ! " said
Mr. Squeers with a sigh. " Just fill that mug up with luke-
warm water, William, will you ? "
" To the wery top, sir ? " inquired the waiter. " Why the
milk will be drownded."
" Never you mind that," replied Mr. Squeers. " Serve it
risfht for being so dear. You ordered that thick bread and
butter for three, did you ? "
" Coming directly, sir."
" You needn't hurry yourself," said Squeers ; " there's
plenty of time. Conquer your passions, boys, and don't be
eager after vittles." As he uttered this moral precept, Mr.
Squeers took a large bite out of the cold beef, and recognized
Nicholas.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
SI
" Sit down, Mr. Nickleby," said Squeers. " Here we are,
a breakfasting you see ! "
Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting, except
Mr. Squeers ; but he bowed with all becoming reverence, and
looked as cheerful as he could.
" Oh ! that's the milk and water, is it, William t " said
Squeers. " Very good ; don't forget the bread and butter
presently."
At this fresh mention of the bread and butter, the five
little boys looked very eager, and followed the waiter out,
with their eyes ; meanwhile Mr. Squeers tasted the milk and
water.
" Ah ! " said that gentleman, smacking his lips, " here's
richness ! Think of the many beggars and orphans in the
streets that would be glad of this, little boys. A shocking
thing hunger is, isn't it, Mr. Nickleby ? "
"Very shocking, sir,'' said Nicholas.
" When I say number one," pursued Mr. Squeers, putting
the mug before the children, " the boy on the left hand near-
est the window may take a drink ; and when I say number
two, the boy next him will go in, and so till we come to
number five, which is the last boy. Are you ready .'' "
"Yes, sir," cried all the little boys with great eagerness.
" That's right," said Squeers, calmly getting on with his
breakfast ; keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue your
appetites, my dears, and you've conquered human natur. This
is the way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr. Nickleby," said
the schoohii aster, turning to Nicholas, and speaking with his
mouth very full of beef and toast.
Nicholas murmured something — he knew not what — in
reply ; and the little boys, dividing their gaze between the
mug, the bread and butter (which had by this time arrived),
and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took into his mouth, re-
mained with strained eyes in torments of expectation.
" Thank God for a good breakfast," said Squeers when he
had finished. " Number one may take a drink."
Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just drunk
enough to make him wish for more, when Mr. Squeers gave
the signal for number two, who gave up at the same interest-
ing moment to number three ; and the process was repeated
until the milk and water terminated with number five.
"And now," said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and
butter for three into as many portions as there were children,
C2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
" you had better look sharp with your breakfast, for the horn
will blow in a minute or two, and then every boy leaves off."
Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to
eat voraciously, and in desperate haste : while the school-
master (who was in high good humor after his meal) picked
his teeth with a fork, and looked smilingly on. In a very
short time, the horn was heard.
" I thought it wouldn't be long," said Squeers, jumping up
and producing a little basket from under the seat ; " put what
you haven't had time to eat, in here, boys ! You'll want it on
the road ! "
Nicholas was considerably startled by these very eco-
nomical arrangements ; but he had no time to reflect upon
them, for the little boys had to be got up to the top of the
coach, and their boxes had to be brought out and put in, and
Mr. Squeers's luggage was to be seen carefully deposited in
the boot, and all these offices were in his department. He
was in the full heat and bustle of concluding these operations,
when his uncle, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, accosted him.
" Oh ! here you are, sir ! " said Ralph. " Here are your
mother and sister, sir."
" Where ! " cried Nicholas, looking hastily round.
" Here ! " replied his uncle. " Having too much money
and nothing at all to do with it, they were paying a hackney
coach as I came up, sir."
'• We were afraid of being too late to see him before he
went away from us," said Mrs. Nickleby, embracing her son,
heedless of the unconcerned lookers-on in the coach-yard.
"Very good, ma'am," returned Ralph, "you're the best
judge of course, I merely said that you were paying a hack-
ney coach. / never pay a hackney coach, ma'am, I never
hire one. I haven't been in a hackney coach of my own hir-
ing for thirty years, and I hope I shan't be for thirty more, if
I live as long."
" I should never have forgiven myself if I had not seen
him," said Mrs. Nickleby. " Poor dear boy — going away
without his breakfast too, because he feared to distress us ! "
" Mighty fine certainly," said Ralph, with great testiness.
"When I first went to business, ma'am, I took a penny loaf
and a ha'porth of milk for my breakfast as I walked to the
city every morning \ what do you say to that, ma'am ? Break-
fast ! Bah ! "
"Now, Nickleby," said Squeers, coming up at the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
S3
moment buttoning his greatcoat ; " I think you'd better get
up behind. I'm afraid of one of them boys falUng off, and
then there's twenty pound a year gone."
"Dear Nicholas," whispered Kate, touching her brother's
arm, " who is that vulgar man ? "
•' Eh ! " growled Ralph, whose quick ears had caught the
inquiry. " Do you wish to be introduced to Mr. Squeers, my
dear.?"
" That the schoolmaster ! No, uncle. Oh no ! " replied
Kate, shrinking back.
" I'm sure I heard you say as much, my dear," retorted
Ralph in his cold sarcastic manner. " Mr. Squeers, here's
my niece : Nicholas's sister ! "
"Very glad to make your acquaintance, miss," said
Squeers, raising his hat an inch or two. "I wish Mrs.
Squeers took gals, and we had you for a teacher. I don't
know, though, whether she mightn't grow jealous if we had.
Ha ! ha ! ha ! "
If the proprietor of Dotheboys Hall could have known
what was passing in his assistant's breast at that moment, he
would have discovered, with some surprise, that he was as
near being soundly pummelled as he had ever been in his life.
Kate Nickleby, having a quicker perception of her brother's
emotions, led him gently aside, and thus prevented Mr.
Squeers from being impressed with the fact in a peculiarly
disagreeable manner.
"My dear Nicholas," said the young lady, "who is this
man ? What kind of place can it be that you are going
to?"
" I hardly know, Kate," replied Nicholas, pressing his
sister's hand. " I suppose the Yorkshire folks are ra^their-
rough and uncultivated ; that's all."
" But this person," urged Kate.
" Is my employer, or master, or whatever the proper name
may be," replied Nicholas quickly, " and I was an ass to take
his coarseness ill. They are looking this way, and it is time I
was in my place. Bless you love, and good-by ! Mother ;
look forward to our meeting again some day ! Uncle, fare-
well ! Thank you heartily for all you have done and all you
mean to do. Quite ready, sir ! "
With these hasty adieux, Nicholas mounted nimbly to his
seat, and waved his hand as gallantly as if his heart went
with it.
54
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
At this moment, when the coachman and guard were com-
paring notes for the last time before starting, on the subject
of the way-bill ; when porters were screwing out the last re-
luctant sixpences, itinerant newsmen making the last offer of
a morning paper, and the horses giving the last impatient
rattle to their harness ; Nicholas felt somebody softly pulling
at his leg. He looked down, and there stood Newman Noggs,
who pushed up into his hand a dirty letter.
" What's this ? " inquired Nicholas.
" Hush ! " rejoined Noggs, pointing to Mr. Ralph Nickleby,
who was saying a few earnest words to Squeers, a short dis-
tance off. " Take it. Read it. Nobody knows. That's
all."
" Stop ! " cried Nicholas.
" No," replied Noggs.
Nicholas cried stop, again, but Newman Noggs was gone.
A minute's bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaying
of the vehicle to one side, as the heavy coachman, and
still heavier guard, climbed into their seats ; a cry of all right,
a few notes from the horn, a hasty glance of two sorrowful
faces below, and the hard features of Mr. Ralph Nickleby —
and the coach was gone too, and rattling over the stones of
Smithfield.
The little boys' legs being too short to admit of their feet
resting upon anything as they sat, and the little boys' bodies
being consequently in imminent hazard of being jerked off
the coach, Nicholas had enough to do, over the stones, to
hold them on. Between the manual exertion and the mental
anxiety attendant upon this task, he was not a little relieved
when the coach stopped at the Peacock at Islington. He
was still more relieved when a hearty-looking gentleman, with
a very good-humored face, and a very fresh color, got up
behind, and proposed to take the other corner of the seat.
^* If we put some of these youngsters in the middle," said
the new comer, " they'll be safer in case of their going to
sleep ; eh? "
"If you'll have the goodness, sir," replied Squeers,
" that'll be the very thing. Mr. Nickleby, take three of them
boys between you and the gentleman. Helling and the
youngest Snawley can sit between me and the guard. Three
children, said Squeers, explaining to the stranger, " books as
two."
"I have not the least objection, I am sure," said the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ee
fresh-colored gentleman ; " I have a brother who wouldn't
object to book his six children as two at any butcher's or
baker's in the kingdom, I dare say. Far from it."
" Six children, sir ? " exclaimed Squeers.
"Yes, and all boys," replied the stranger,
" Mr. Nickleby," said Squeers, in great haste, " catch
hold of that basket. Let me give you a card, sir, of an estab-
lishment where those six boys can be brought up in an en-
lightened, liberal and moral manner, with no mistake at all
about it, for twenty guineas a year each — twenty guineas, sir,
— or I'd take all the boys together upon an average right
through, and say a hundred pound a year for the lot."
" Oh ! " said the gentleman, glancing at the card, " you
are the Mr. Squeers mentioned here, I presume ? "
"Yes I am, sir," replied the worthy pedagogue; "Mr.
Wackford Squeers is my name, and I'm very far from being
ashamed of it. These are some of my boys, sir ; that's one
of my assistants, sir — Mr. Nickleby, a gentleman's son, and
a good scholar, mathematical, classical, and commercial, \^'e
don't do things by halves at our shop. All manner of learn-
ing my boys take down, sir ; the expense is never thought of ;
and they get paternal treatment and washing in."
" Upon my word," said the gentleman, glancing at Nicho-
las with a half smile, and a more than half expression of
surprise, " these are advantages indeed."
"You may say that, sir," rejoined Squeers, thrusting his
hands into his greatcoat pockets. " The most unexception-
able references are given and required. I wouldn't take a
reference with any boy, that wasn't responsible for the pay-
ment of five pound five a quarter, no, not if you went down
on your knees, and asked me with the tears running down
your face, to do it."
" Highly considerate," said the passenger.
" It's my great aim and end to be considerate, sir," re-
joined Squeers. " Snawley, junior, if you don't leave off
chattering your teeth, and shaking with the cold, I'll warm
you with a severe thrashing in about half a minute's time."
" Sit fast here, genelmen," said theguard as he clambered
" All right behind there, Dick ? " cried the coachman.
" All right," was the reply. " Off she goes ! " And off she
did go, — if coaches be feminine — amidst a loud flourish from
the guard's horn, and the calm approval of all the judges of
56
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
coaches and coach-horses congregated at the Peacock, but
more especially of the helpers, who stood, with the cloths
over their arms, watching the coach till it disappeared, and
then lounged admiringly stablewards, bestowing various gruff
encomiums on the beauty of the turn-out.
When the guard (who was a stout old Yorkshireman) had
blown himself quite out of breath, he put the horn into a
little tunnel of a basket fastened to the coach side for the
purpose, and giving himself a plentiful shower of blows on the
chest and shoulders, observed it was uncommon cold ; after
which, he demanded of every person separately whether he
was going right through, and if not where he was going.
Satisfactory replies being made to these queries, he surmised
that the roads were pretty heavy arter that fall last night, and
took the liberty of asking whether any of them gentlemen
carried a snuff-box. It happening that nobody did, he re-
marked with a mysterious air that he had heard a medical
gentleman as went down to Grantham last week, say how that
snuff-taking was bad for the eyes ; but for his part he had
never found it so, and what he said was, that everybody
should speak as they found. Nobody attempting to contro-
vert this position, he took a small brown-paper parcel out of
his hat, and putting on a pair of horn spectacles (the writing
being crabbed) read the direction half-a-dozen times over ;
having done which, he consigned the parcel to its old place,
put up his spectacles again, and stared at everj^body in turn.
After this, he took another blow at the horn by way of refresh-
ment ; and, having now exhausted his usual topics of conver-
sation, folded his arms as well as he could in so many coats,
and falling into a solemn silence, looked carelessly at the
familiar objects which met his eye on every side as the coach
rolled on ; the only things he seemed to care for, being
horses and droves of cattle, which he scrutinized with a criti-
cal air as they were passed upon the road.
The weather was intensely and bitterly cold ; a great deal
of snow fell from time to time ; and the wind was intolerably
keen. Mr. Squeers got down at almost every stage — to
stretch his legs as he said — and as he always came back
from such excursions with a very red nose, and composed
himself to sleep directly, there is reason to suppose that he
derived great benefit from the process. The little pupils
having been stimulated with the remains of their breakfast,
and further invigorated by sundry small cups of a curious
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 57
Cordial carried by Mr. Squeers, which tasted very like toast-
and-water put into a brandy bottle by mistake, went to sleep,
woke, shivered, and cried, as their feelings prompted. Nich-
olas and the good-tempered man found so many things to
talk about, that between conversing together, and cheering up
the boys, the time passed with them as rapidly as it could,
under such adverse circumstances.
So the day wore on. At Eton Slocomb there was a good
coach dinner, of which the box, the four front outsides, the
one inside, Nicholas, the good-tempered man, and Mr.
Squeers, partook ; while the five little boys were put to thaw
by the fire, and regaled with sandwiches. A stage or two
further on, the lamps were lighted, and a great to-do occa-
sioned by the taking up, at a road-side inn, of a very fastidious
lady with an infinite variety of cloaks and small parcels, who
loudly lamented, for the behoof of the outsides, the non-arri-
val of her own carriage which was to have taken her on, and
made the guard solemnly promise to stop every green chariot
he saw coming ; which, as it was a dark night and he was
sitting with his face the other way, that oificer undertook, with
many fervent asseverations, to do. Lastly, the fastidious lady,
finding there was a solitary gentleman inside, had a small
lamp lighted which she carried in her reticule, and being after
much trouble shut in, the horses were put into a brisk canter
and the coach was once more in rapid motion.
The night and the snow came on together, and dismal
enough they were. There was no sound to be heard but the
howling of the wind ; for the noise of the wheels, and the tread
of the horses' feet, were rendered inaudible by the thick coat-
ing of snow which covered the ground, and was fast increasing
every moment. The streets of Stamford were deserted as
they passed through the town ; and its old churches rose,
frowning and dark, from the whitened ground. Twenty miles
further on, two of the front outside passengers wisely availing
themselves of their arrival at one of the best inns in England,
turned in for the night, at the George at Grantham. The re-
mainder wrapped themselves more closely in their coats and
cloaks, and leaving the light and warmth of the town behind
them, pillowed themselves against the luggage, and prepared,
with many half-suppressed moans, again to encounter the
piercing blast which swept across the open country.
They were little more than a stage out of Grantham, or
about half wly between it and Newark, when Nicholas, who
^8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
had been asleep for a short time, was suddenly roused by a
violent jerk which nearly threw him from his seat. Grasping
the rail, he found that the coach had sunk greatly on one side,
though it was still dragged forward by the horses ; and while
— confused by their plunging and the loud screams of the
lady inside — he hesitated, for an instant, whether to jump off
or not, the vehicle turned easily over, and relieved him from
all further uncertainty by flinging him into the road.
CHAPTER VI.
IN WHICH THE OCCURRENCE OF THE ACCIDENT MENTIONED
IN THE LAST CHAPTER, AFFORDS AN OPPORTUNITY TO A
COUPLE OF GENTLEMEN TO TELL STORIES AGAINST EACH
OTHER.
" Wo ho ! " cried the guard, on his legs in a minute, and
running to the leaders' heads. " Is there ony genelmen there
as can len' a bond here ? Keep quiet, dang ye ! Wo ho ! "
" What's the matter ? " asked Nicholas, looking sleepily
up.
" Matther mun, matther eneaf for one neight," replied the
guard ; " dang the wall-eyed bay, he's gane mad wi' glory I
think, carse t'coorch is over. Here, can't ye len' a hond ?
Dom it, I'd ha' dean it if all my boans were brokken."
" Here ! " cried Nicholas, staggering to his feet. " I'm
ready. I'm only a little abroad, that's all."
" Hoold 'em toight," cried the guard, " while ar coot
treaces. Hang on tiv 'em sumhoo. Weel deane, my lod.
That's it. Let 'em goa noo. Dang 'em, they'll gang whoam
fast eneaf ! "
In truth, the animals were no sooner released than they
trotted back, with much deliberation, to the stable they had
just left, which was distant not a mile behind.
" Can you bio' a harn ? " asked the guard, disengaging
one of the coach-lamps.
^' I dare say I can," replied Nicholas.
" Then just bio' away into that 'un as lies on the grund,
fit to wakken the deead, will'ee," said the man, "while I stop
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
59
sum o' this here squealing inside. Cumin', cumin'. Doan't
make that noise, wooman."
As the man spoke, he proceeded to wrench open the upper-
most door of the coach, while Nicholas, seizing the horn,
awoke the echoes far and wide with one of the most extraor-
dinary performances on that instrument ever heard by mortal
ears. It had its effect, however, not only in rousing such of
the passengers as were recovering from the stunning effects of
their fall, but in summoning assistance to their relief ; for
lights gleamed in the distance, and people were already astir.
In fact, a man on horseback galloped down, before the
passengers were well collected together ; and a careful inves-
tigation being instituted, it appeared that the lady inside had
broken her lamp, and the gentleman his head ; that the two
front outsides had escaped with black eyes ; the box with a
bloody nose ; the coachman with a contusion on the temple ;
Mr. Squeers with a portmanteau bruise on his back ; and the
remaining passengers without any injury at all — thanks to the
softness of the snow-drift in which they had been overturned.
These facts were no sooner thoroughly ascertained, than the
lady gave several indications of fainting, but being forewarned
that if she did, she must be carried on some gentleman's
shoulders to the nearest public house, she prudently thought
better of it, and walked back with the rest.
They found on reaching it, that it was a lonely place with
no very great accommodation in the way of apartments — that
portion of its resources being all comprised in one public
room with a sanded floor, and a chair or two. However, a
large faggot and a plentiful supply of coals being heaped upon
the fire, the appearance of things was not long in mending ;
and, by the time they had washed off all effaceable marks of the
late accident, the room was warm and light, which was a most
agreeable exchange for the cold and darkness out of doors.
"Well, Mr. Nickleby," said Squeers, insinuating himself
into the warmest corner, "you did very right to catch hold of
them horses. I should have done it myself if I had come to in
time, but I am very glad you did it. You did it very well ;
very well."
" So well," said the merry-faced gentleman, who did not
seem to approve very much of the patronizing tone adopted
by Squeers, " that if they had not been firmly checked when
they were, you would most probably have had no brains left
to teach with."
6o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
This remark called up a discourse relative to the prompti-
tude Nicholas had displayed, and he was overwhelmed with
compliments and commendations.
" I am very glad to have escaped, of course," obser\-ed
Squeers ; " every man is glad when he escapes from danger ;
but if any one of my charges had been hurt — if I had been
prevented from restoring any one of these little boys to his
parents whole and sound as I received him — what would have
been my feelings ? Why the wheel a-top of my head would
have been far preferable to it."
" Are they all brothers, sir ? " inquired the lady who had
carried the " Davy " or safety-lamp.
" In one sense they are, ma'am," replied Squeers, diving
into his greatcoat pocket for cards. " They are all under the
same parental and affec'tionate treatment. Mrs. Squeers and
myself are a mother and father to every one of 'em. Mr.
Nickleby, hand the lady them cards, and offer these to the
gentlemen. Perhaps they might know of some parents that
would be glad to avail themselves of the establishment."
Expressing himself to this effect, Mr. Squeers, who lost
no opportunity of advertising gratuitously, placed his hands
upon his knees, and looked at the pupils with as much benignity
as he could possibly affect, while Nicholas, blushing with
shame, handed round the cards as directed.
" I hope you suffer no inconvenience from the overturn,
ma'am ? " said the merry-faced gentleman, addressing the fas-
tidious lady, as though he were charitably desirous to change
the subject.
" No bodily inconvenience," replied the lady.
" No mental inconvenience, I hope ? "
"The subject is a very painful one to my feelings, sir,"
replied the lady with strong emotion ; " and I beg you as a
gentleman, not to refer to it."
" Dear me," said the merry-faced gentleman, looking mer-
rier still, " I merely intended to inquire "
"I hope no inquiries will be made," said the lady, "or I
shall be compelled to throw myself on the protection of the
other gentlemen. Landlord, pray direct a boy to keep watch
outside the door — and if a green chariot passes in the direc-
tion of Grantham, to stop it instantly."
The people of the house were evidently overcome by this
request, and when the lady charged the boy to remember, as
a means of identifying the expected green chariot, that it
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 6i
would have a coachman with a gold-laced hat on the box, and
a footman, most probably in silk stockings, behind, the atten-
tions of the good woman of the inn were redoubled. Even
the box-passenger caught the infection, and growing wonder-
fully deferential, immediately inquired whether there was not
very good society in that neighborhood, to which the lady re-
plied yes, there was : in a manner which sufficiently implied
that she moved at the very tiptop and summit of it all.
"As the guard has gone on horseback to Grantham to get
another coach," said the good-tempered gentleman when they
had all been sitting round the fire, for some time in silence,
" and as he must be gone a couple of hours at the very least,
I propose a bowl of hot punch. What say you, sir ? "
This question was addressed to the broken-headed inside,
who was a man of very genteel appearance, dressed in mourn-
ing. He was not past the middle age, but his hair was gray ;
it seemed to have been prematurely turned by care or sorrow.
He readily acceded to the proposal, and appeared to be pre-
possessed by the frank good-nature of the individual from
whom it emanated.
This latter personage took upon himself the office of tap-
ster when the punch was ready, and after dispensing it all
round, led the conversation to the antiquities of York, with
which both he and the gray-haired gentleman appeared to be
well acquainted. When this topic flagged, he turned with a
smile to the gray-headed gentleman, and asked if he could sing.
" I cannot indeed," replied the gentleman, smiling in his
turn.
"That's a pity," said the owner of the good-humored
countenance. " Is there nobody here who can sing a song to
lighten the time ? "
The passengers, one and all, protested that they could not ;
that they wished they could ; that they couldn't remember the
words of anything without the book ; and so forth.
"Perhaps the lady would not object," said the president
with great respect, and a merry twinkle in his eye. " Some
little Italian thing out of the last opera brought out in town,
would be most acceptable I am sure."
As the lady condescended to make no reply, but tossed
her head contemptuously, and murmured some further expres-
sion of surprise regarding the absence of the green chariot,
one or two voices urged upon the president himself, the pro-
priety of making an attempt for the general benefit.
6 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I would if I could," said he of the good-tempered race ;
" for I hold that in this, as in all other cases where people
who are strangers to each other are thrown unexpectedly to-
gether, they should endeavor to render themselves as pleasant,
for the joint sake of the little community, as possible."
" I wish the maxim were more generally acted on, in all
cases," said the gray-headed gentleman.
"I'm glad to hear it," returned the other. " Perhaps, as
you can't sing you'll tell us a story ? "
"Nay. I should ask you."
" After you, I will, with pleasure."
" Indeed ! " said the gray-haired gentleman, smiling.
" Well, let it be so. I fear the turn of my thoughts is not
calculated to lighten the time you must pass here ; but you
have brought this upon yourselves, and shall judge. We were
speaking of York Minster just now. My story shall have some
reference to it. Let us call it
THE FIVE SISTERS OF YORK.
After a murmur of approbation from the other passengers,
during which the fastidious lady drank a glass of punch unob-
served, the gray-headed gentleman thus went on :
" A great many years ago — for the fifteenth century was
scarce two years old at the time, and King Henry the Fourth
sat upon the throne of England — there dwelt, in the ancient
city of York, five maiden sisters, the subjects of my tale.
" These five sisters were all of surpassing beauty. The
eldest was in her twenty-third year, the second a year younger,
the third a year younger than the second, and the fourth a
year younger than the third. They were tall, stately figures,
with dark flashing eyes and hair of jet ; dignity and grace
were in their every movement ; and the fame of their great
beauty had spread through all the country round.
" But if the four elder sisters were lovely, how beautiful
was the youngest, a fair creature of sixteen ! The blushing
tints in the soft bloom on the fruit, or the delicate painting on
the flower, are not more exquisite than was the blending of
the rose and the lily in her gentle face, or the deep blue of
her eye. The vine, in all its elegant luxuriance, is not more
graceful than were the clusters of rich brown hair that
sported round her brow.
" If we all had hearts like those which beat so lightly in
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 63
the bosoms of the young and beautiful, what a heaven this
earth would be ! If, while our bodies grow old and withered,
our hearts could but retain their early youth and freshness, of
what avail would be our sorrows and sufferings ! But, the
faint image of Eden which is stamped upon them in childhood,
chafes and rubs in our rough struggles with the world, and
soon wears away : too often to leave nothing but a mournful
blank remaining.
" The heart of this fair girl bounded with joy and gladness.
Devoted attachment to her sisters, and a fervent love of all
beautiful things in natura, were its pure affections. Her glee-
some voice and merry laugh were the sweetest music of their
home. She was its very light and life. The brightest flowers
in the garden were reared by her ; the caged birds sang when
they heard her voice, and pined when they missed its sweet-
ness. Alice, dear Alice ; what living thing within the sphere
of her gentle witchery could fail to love her !
" You may seek in vain, now, for the spot on which these
sisters lived, for their ver}' names have passed away, and dusty
antiquaries tell of them as of a fable. But they dwelt in an
old wooden house — old even in those days — with overhanging
gables and balconies of rudely-carved oak, which stood within
a pleasant orchard, and was surrounded by a rough stone wall,
whence a stout archer might have winged an arrow to Saint
Mary's abbey. The old abbey flourished then ; and the five
sisters, living on its fair domains, paid yearly dues to the black
monks of Saint Benedict, to which fraternity it belonged.
" It was a bright and sunny morning in the pleasant time
of summer, when one of those black monks emerged from the
abbey portal, and bents his steps towards the house of the
fair sisters. Heaven above was blue, and earth beneath was
green ; the river glistened like a path of diamonds in the sun ;
the birds poured "forth their songs from the shady trees ; the
lark soared high above the waving corn ; and the deep buzz
of insects filled the air. Everything looked gay and smiling ;
but the holy man walked gloomily on, with his eyes bent upon
the ground. The beauty of the earth is but a breath, and
man is but a shadow. What sympathy should a holy preacher
have with either ?
" With eyes bent upon the ground, then, or only raised
enough to prevent his stumbling over such obstacles as lay in
his way, the religious man moved slowly forward until he
reached a small postern in the wall of the sisters' orchard,
64
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
through which he passed, closing it behind him. The noise
of soft voices in conversation, and of merry laughter, fell upon
his ears ere he had advanced many paces ; and raising his
eyes higher than was his humble wont, he descried, at no great
distance, the five sisters seated on the grass, with Alice in the
centre : all busily plying their customary task of embroidering.
" ' Save you, fair daughters ! ' said the friar ; and fair in
truth they were. Even a monk might have loved them as
choice master-pieces of his Maker's hand.
" The sisters saluted the holy man with becoming rever-
ence, and the eldest motioned him, to a mossy seat beside
them. But the good friar shook his head, and bumped him-
self down on a very hard stone, — at which, no doubt, approv-
ing angels were gratified.
" ' Ye were merry, daughters,' said the monk.
" ' You know how light of heart sweet Alice is," replied the
eldest sister, passing her fingers through the tresses of the
smiling girl.
" ' And what joy and cheerfulness it wakes up within us,
to see all nature beaming in brightness and sunshine, father,'
added Alice, blushing beneath the stern look of the recluse.
" The monk answered not, save by a grave inclination of
the head, and the sisters pursued their task in silence.
" ' Still wasting the precious hours,' said the monk at
length, turning to the eldest sister as he spoke, ' still wasting
the precious hours on this vain trifling. Alas, alas ! that the
few bubbles on the surface of eternity — all that Heaven wills
we should see of that dark deep stream — should be so lightly
scattered ! '
" ' Father,' urged the maiden, pausing, as did each of the
others, in her busy task, ' we have prayed at matins, our daily
alms have been distributed at the gate, the sick peasants have
been tended, — all our morning tasks have been performed.
I hope our occupation is a blameless one ? '
" ' See here,' said the friar, taking the frame from her
hand, ' an intricate winding of gaudy colors, without purpose
or object, unless it be that one day it is destined for some
vain ornament, to minister to the pride of your frail and giddy
sex. Day after day has been employed upon this senseless
task, and yet it is not half accomplished. The shade of each
departed day falls upon our graves, and the worm exults as
he beholds it, to know that we are hastening thither. Daugh-
ters, is there no better way to pass the fleeting hours ? '
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 65
" The four elder sisters cast down their eyes as if abashed
by the holy man's reproof, but Alice raised hers, and bent
them mildly on the friar.
" 'Our dear motlier,' said the maiden ; ' Heaven rest her
soul ! '
" ' Amen ! ' cried the friar in a deep voice.
"'Our dear mother,' faltered the fair Alice, 'was living
when these long tasks began, and bade us, when she should
be no more, ply them in all discretion and cheerfulness, in our
leisure hours ; she said that if in harmless mirth and maidenly
pursuits we passed those hours together, they would prove the
happiest and most peaceful of our lives, and that if, in later
times, we went forth into the world, and mingled with its
cares and trials — if, allured by its temptations and dazzled by
its glitter, we ever forgot that love and duty which should
bind, in holy ties, the children of one loved parent — a glance
at the old work of our common girlhood would awaken good
thoughts of by-gone days, and soften our hearts to affection
and love.'
" ' Alice speaks truly, father,' said the elder sister, some-
what proudly. And so saying she resumed her work, as did
the others.
" It was a kind of sampler of large size, that each sister
had before her \ the device was of a complex and intricate
description, and the pattern and colors of all five were the
same. The sisters bent gracefully over their work ; the monk,
resting his chin upon his hands, looked from one to the other
in silence.
" ' How much better,' he said at length, ' to shun all such
thoughts and chances, and, in the peaceful shelter of the
church, devote your lives to Heaven ! Infancy, childhood,
the prime of life, and old age, wither as rapidly as they crowd
upon each other. Think how human dust rolls onward to the
tomb, and turning your faces steadily towards that goal, avoid
the cloud which takes its rise among the pleasures of the
world, and cheats the senses of their votaries. The veil,
daughters, the veil ! '
" ' Never, sisters,' cried Alice. ' Barter not the light and
air of heaven, and the freshness of earth and all the beautiful
things which breathe upon it, for the cold cloister and the cell.
Nature's own blessings are the proper goods of life, and we
may share them sinlessly together. To die is our heavy por-
tion, but, oh, let us die with life about us ; when our cold
5
66 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
hearts cease to beat, let warm hearts be beating near ; let our
last look be upon the bounds which God has set to his own
bright skies, and not on stone walls and bars of iron ! Dear
sisters, let us live and die, if you list, in this green garden's
compass ; only shun the gloom and sadness of a cloister, and
we shall be happy.'
" The tears fell fast from the maiden's eyes as she closed
her impassioned appeal, and hid her face in the bosom of her
sister.
'"Take comfort, Alice,' said the eldest, kissing her fair
forehead. ' The veil shall never cast its shadow on thy young
brow. How say you, sisters .'' For yourselves you speak, and
not for Alice, or for me.'
" The sisters, as with one accord, cried that their lot was
cast together, and that there were dwellings for peace and vir-
tue beyond the convent's walls.
"'Father,' said the eldest lady, rising with dignity, 'you
hear our final resolve. The same pious care which enriched
the abbey of Saint Mary, and left us, orphans, to its holy
guardianship, directed that no constraint should be imposed
upon our inclinations, but that we should be free to live ac-
cording to our choice. Let us hear no more of this, we pray
you. Sisters, it is nearly noon. Let us take shelter until
evening ! ' With a reverence to the friar, the lady rose and
walked towards the house, hand in hand with Alice ; the other
sisters followed.
" The holy man, who had often urged the same point be-
fore, but had never met with so direct a repulse, walked some
little distance behind, with his eyes bent upon the earth, and
his lips moving as if in prayer. As the sisters reached the
porch, he quickened his pace, and called upon them to stop.
" ' Stay ! ' said the monk, raising his right hand in the air,
and directing an angry glance by turns at Alice and the elder
sister, ' Stay, and hear from me what these recollections are,
which you would cherish above eternity, and awaken — if in
mercy they slumbered — by means of idle toys. The memory
of earthly things is charged, in after life, with bitter disap-
pointment, affliction, death ; with dreary change and wasting
sorrow. The time will one day come, when a glance at those
unmeaning baubles will tear open deep wounds in the hearts
of some among you, and strike to your inmost souls. When
that hour arrives — and, mark me, come it will — -turn from the
world to which you clung, to the refuge which you spurned.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
67
Find me the cell which shall be colder than tlie fire of mor-
tals grows, when dimmed by calamity and trial, and there
weep for the dreams of youth. These things are Heaven's
will, not mine,' said the friar, subduing his voice as he looked
round upon the shrinking girls. ' The Virgin's blessing be
upon you, daughters ! ' ~
" With these words he disappeared through the postern ;
and the sisters hastening into the house were seen no more
that day.
" But nature will smile though priests may frown, and
next day the sun shone brightly, and on the next, and the
next again. And in the morning's glare, and the evening's
soft repose, the five sisters still walked, or worked, or beguiled
the time by cheerful conversation, in their quiet orchard.
'' Time passed away as a tale that is told ; faster indeed
than many tales that are told, of which number I fear that
this may be one. The house of the five sisters stood where
it did, and the same trees cast their pleasant shade upon the
orchard grass. The sisters too were there, and lovely as at
first, but a change had come over their dwelling. Sometimes,
there was the clash of armor, and the gleaming of the moon
on caps of steel ; and, at others, jaded coursers were spurred
up to the gate, and a female form glided hurriedly forth, as if
eager to demand tidings of the weary messenger. A goodly
train of knights and ladies lodged one night within the abbey
walls, and next day rode away, with two of the fair sisters
among them. Then, horsemen began to come less frequently,
and seemed to bring bad tidings when they did, and at length
they ceased to come at all, and footsore peasants slunk to the
gate after sunset, and did their errand there, by stealth.
Once, a vassal was despatched in haste to the abbey at dead
of night, and when morning came, there were sounds of woe
and wailing in the sisters' house ; and after this, a mournful
silence fell upon it, and knight or lady, horse or armor, was
seen about it no more.
"There was a sullen darkness in the sky, and the sun had
gone angrily down, tinting the dull clouds with the last traces
of his wrath, when the same black monk walked slowly on,
with folded arms, within a stones-'throw of the abbey. A
blight had fallen on the trees and shrubs ; and the wind, at
length becinnin"; to break the unnatural stillness that had
prevailed all day, sighed heavily from time to time, as though
foretelling in grief the ravages of the coming storm. The bat
68 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
skimmed in fantastic flights through the heavy air, and the
ground was aUve with crawling things, whose instinct brought
them forth to swell and fatten in the rain.
" No longer were the friar's eyes directed to the earth ;
they were cast abroad, and roamed from point to point, as if
the gloom and desolation of the scene found a quick response
in his own bosom. Again he paused near the sisters' house,
and again he entered by the postern.
" But not again did his ear encounter the sound of laughter,
or his eyes rest upon the beautiful figures of the five sisters.
All was silent and deserted. The boughs of the trees were
bent and broken, and the grass had grown long and rank.
No light feet had pressed it for many, many, a day.
"With the indifl:erence or abstraction of one well accus-
tomed to the change, the monk glided into the house, and
entered a low, dark room. Four sisters sat there. Their
black garments made their pale faces whiter still, and time
and sorrow had worked deep ravages. They were stately yet,
but the flush and pride of beauty were gone.
" And Alice — where was she ? In Heaven.
" The monk — even the monk — could bear with some grief
here ; for it was long since these sisters had met, and there
were furrows in their blanched faces which years could never
plough. He took his seat in silence, and motioned them to
continue their speech.
" ' They are here, sisters,' said the elder lady in a trem-
bling voice. ' I have never borne to look upon them since,
and now I blame myself for my weakness. What is there in
her memory that we should dread ? To call up our old days,
shall be a solemn pleasure yet.'
" She glanced at the monk as she spoke, and, opening a
cabinet, brought forth the five frames of work, completed
long before. Her step was firm, but her hand trembled as
she produced the last one ; and, when the feelings of the
other sisters gushed forth at sight of it, her pent-up tears
made way, and she sobbed ' Gob bless her ! '
"The monk rose and advanced towards them. 'It was
almost the last thing she touched in health,' he said in a low
voice.
" ' It was,' cried the elder lady, weeping bitterly.
" The monk turned to the second sister.
" ' The gallant youth who looked into thine eyes, and hung
upon thy very breath when first he saw thee intent upon this
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
69
pastime, lies buried on a plain whereof the turf is red with
blood. Rusty fragments of armor, once brightly burnished,
lie rotting on the ground, and are as little distinguishable for
his, as are the bones that crumble in the mould ! '
" The lady groaned, and wrung her hands.
" ' The policy of courts,' he continued, turning to the two
other sisters, ' drew ye from your peaceful home to scenes of
revelry and splendor. The same policy, and the restless am-
bition of proud and fiery men, have sent ye back, widowed
maidens, and humbled outcasts. Do I speak truly ? '
" The sobs of the two sisters were their only reply.
" ' There is little need,' said the monk, with a meaning
look, ' to fritter away the time in gewgaws which shall raise
up the pale ghosts of hopes of early years. Bury them, heap
penance and mortification on their heads, keep them down,
and let the convent be their grave ! '
" The sisters asked for three days to deliberate ; and felt,
that night, as though the veil were indeed the fitting shroud
for their dead joys. But, morning came again, and though
the boughs of the orchard trees drooped and ran wild upon
the ground, it was the same orchard still. The grass was
coarse and high, but there was yet the spot on which they
had so often sat together, when change and sorrow were but
names. There was ever}^ walk and nook which Alice had
made glad ; and in the minster nave was one flat stone be-
neath which she slept in peace.
" And could they, remembering how her young heart had
sickened at the thought of cloistered walls, look upon her
grave, in garbs which would chill the very ashes within it ?
Could they bow down in prayer, and when all Heaven turned
to hear them, bring the dark shade of sadness on one angel's
face ? No.
" They sent abroad, to artists of great celebrity in those
times, and having obtained the church's sanction to their work
of piety, caused to be executed, in five large compartments of
richly stained glass, a faithful copy of their old embroidery
work. These were fitted into a large window until that time
bare of ornament ; and when the sun shone brightly, as she
had so well loved to see it, the familiar patterns were reflected
in their original colors, and throwing a stream of brilliant
light upon the pavement, fell warmly on the name of SlUcc.
" For many hours in every day, the sisters paced slowly
up and down the nave, or knelt by the side of the flat broad
7°
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Stone. Only three were seen in the customary place, after
many years ; then but two, and, for a long time afterwards,
but one solitary female bent with age. At length she came
no more, and the stone bore five plain Christian names.
" That stone has worn away and been replaced by others,
and many generations have come and gone since then. Time
has softened down the colors, but the same stream of light
still falls upon the forgotten tomb, of which no trace remains j
and, to this day, the stranger is shown in York cathedral, an
old window called the Five Sisters."
" That's a melancholy tale," said the merry-faced gentle-
man, emptying his glass.
" It is a tale of life, and life is made up of such sorrows,"
returned the other, courteously, but in a grave and sad tone
of voice.
" There are shades in all good pictures, but there are lights
too, if we choose to contemplate them," said the gentleman
with the merry face. " The youngest sister in your tale was
always light-hearted."
" And died early," said the other gently.
" She would have died earlier, perhaps, had she been less
happy," said the first speaker, with much feeling. " Do you
think the sisters who loved her so well, would have grieved
the less if her life had been one of gloom and sadness .'' If any-
thing could soothe the first sharp pain of a heavy loss, it would
be — with me — the reflection, that those I mourned, by being
innocently happy here, and loving all about them, had pre-
pared themselves for a purer and happier world. The sun
does not shine upon this fair earth to meet frowning eyes, de-
pend upon it."
" I believe you are right," said the gentleman who had
told the story.
" Believe ! " retorted the other, " can anybody doubt it ?
Take any subject of sorrowful regret, and see with how much
pleasure it is associated. The recollection of past pleasure
may become pain "
r-— It does," interposed the other.
/"Well; it does. To remember happiness which cannot
be"fesfored, is pain, but of a softened kind. Our recollec-
tions are unfortunately mingled with ihuch that we deplore,
and with many actions which we bitterly repent ; still in the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 71
most chequered life I firmly think there are so many little
rays of sunshine to look back upon, that I do not believe ,
any mortal (unless he had put himself without the pale of
hope) would deliberately drain a goblet of the waters of Lethe,
if he had it in his power."
" Possibly you are correct in that belief," said the gray-
haired aentleman after a short reflection. " I am inclined to
think you are."
"Why, then," replied the other, "the good in this state of
existence preponderates over the bad, let miscalled philoso-
phers tell us what they will. If our affections be tried, our
affections are our consolation and comfort ; and memory,
however sad, is the best and purest link between this world
and a better. But come ! I'll tell you a story of another kind."
After a very brief silence, the merry-faced gentleman sent
round the punch, and glancing slily at the fastidious lady, who
seemed desperately apprehensive that he was going to relate
sometliing improper, began
THE BARON OF GROGZWIG.
" The Baron Von Koeldwethout, of Grogzwig in Germany,
was as likely a young baron as you would wish to see. I
needn't say that he lived in a castle, because that's of course ;
neither need I say that he lived in an old castle ; for what
German baron ever lived in a new one t There were many
strange circumstances connected with this venerable building,
among which, not the least startling and mysterious were,
that when the wind blew, it rumbled in the chimneys, or even
howled among the trees in the neighboring forest ; and that
when the moon shone, she found her way through certain small
loopholes in the wall, and actually made some parts of the
wide halls and galleries quite light, while she left others in
gloomy shadow. I believe that one of the baron's ancestors,
being short of money, had inserted a dagger in a gentleman
who called one night to ask his way, and it was supposed that
these miraculous occurrences took place in consequence.
And yet I hardly know how that could have been, either, be-
cause the baron's ancestor, who was an amiable man, felt very
sorry afterwards for having been so rash, and laying violent
hands upon a quantity of stone and timber which belonged to
a weaker baron, built a chapel as an apology, and so took a
receipt from Heaven, in full of all demands.
^2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Talking of the baron's ancestor puts me ni mind of the
baron's great claims to respect, on the score of lais pedigree,
I am afraid to say, I am sure, how many ancestors the baron
had ; but I know that he had a great many more than any
other man of his time ; and I only wished that he had hved
in these latter days, that he might have had more. It is a
very hard thing upon the great men of the past centuries, that
they should have come into the world so soon, because a man
who was born three or four hundred years ago, cannot reason-
ably be expected to have had as many relations before him,
as a man who is born now. The last man, whoever he is —
and he may be a cobbler or some low vulgar dog for aught we
ki-iow — will have a longer pedigree than the greatest nobleman
now alive ] and I contend that this is not fair.
" Well, but the Baron Von Koeldwethout of Grogzwig 1
He was a fine swarthy fellow, with dark hair and large mous-
tachios, who rode a-hunting in clothes of Lincoln green, with
russet boots on his feet, and a bugle slung over his shoulder,
like the guard of a. long stage. When he blew this bugle, four-
and-twenty other gentlemen of inferior rank, in Lincoln green a
little coarser, and russet boots with a little thicker soles, turned
out directly ; and away galloped the whole train with spears
in their hands like lackered area railings, to hunt down the
boars, or perhaps encounter a bear : in which latter case the
baron killed him first, and greased his whiskers with him after-
wards.
" This was a merry life for the Baron of Grogzwig, and a
merrier still for the baron's retainers, who drank Rhine wine
every night till they fell under the table, and then had the
bottles on the floor, and called for pipes. Never were ^ such
jolly, roystering, rollicking, merry-making blades, as the jovial
crew of Grogzwig.
" But the pleasures of the table, or the pleasures of under
the table, require a little variety ; especially when the same
live-and-twenty people sit daily down to the same board, to
discuss the same subjects, and tell the same stories. The
baron grew weary, and wanted excitement. He took to quar-
relling with his gentlemen, and tried kicking two or three of
them every day after dinner. This was a pleasant change at
first ; but it became monotonous after a week or so, and the
baron felt quite out of sorts, and cast about, in despair, for
some new amusement.
" One night, after a day's sport in which he had outdone
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. j-^
Nimrod or Gillingwater, and slaughtered ' another fine bear,'
and brought him home in triumph, the Baron Von Koeldwe-
thout sat moodily at the head of his table, eyeing the smoky
roof of the hall with a discontented aspect. He swallowed
huge bumpers of wine, but the more he swallowed, the more
he frowned. The gentlemen who had been honored with the
dangerous distinction of sitting on his right and left, imitated
him to a miracle in the drinking, and frowned at each other
" ' I will ! ' cried the baron suddenly, smiting the table with
his right hand, and twirling his moustache with his left. ' Fill
to the Lady of Grogzwig ! '
"The four-and-twenty Lincoln greens turned pale, with
the exception of their four-and-twenty noses, which were un-
changeable.
" ' I said to the Lady of Grogzwig,' repeated the baron,
looking round the board.
" ' To the Lady of Grogzwig ! ' shouted the Lincoln greens ;
and down their four-and-twenty throats went four-and-twenty
imperial pints of such rare old hock, that they smacked their
eight-and-forty lips, and winked again.
" ' The fair daughter of the Baron Von Swillenhausen,'
said Koeldwethout, condescending to explain. ' We will de-
mand her in marriage of her father, ere the sun goes down to-
morrow. If he refuse our suit, we will cut off his nose.'
" A hoarse murmur arose from the company ; every man
touched, first the hilt of his sword, and then the tip of his nose,
with appalling significance.
'' What a pleasant thing filial piety is, to contemplate ! If
the daughter of the Baron Von Swillenhausen had pleaded a
pre-occupied heart, or fallen at her father's feet and corned
them in salt tears, or only fainted away, and complimented the
old gentleman in frantic ejaculations, the odds are a hundred
to one, but Swillenhausen castle would have been turned out
at window, or rather the baron turned out at window, and the
castle demolished. The damsel held her peace, howe\er,
when an early messenger bore the request of Von Koeldwe-
thout next morning, and modestly retired to her chamber, from
the casement of which she watched the coming of the suitor
and his retinue. She was no sooner assured that the horse-
man with the large moustachios was her proffered husband,
than she hastened to her father's presence, and expressed her
readiness to sacrifice herself to secure his peace. The vener-
able baron caught his child to his arms and shed a wink of joy.
j^ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" There was great feasting at the castle, that clay. The
four-and-twenty Lincoln greens of Von Koeldwethout ex-
changed vows of eternal friendship with twelve Lincoln greens
of Von Swillenhausen, and promised the old baron that they
would drink his wine 'Till all was blue' — meaning probably
until their whole countenances had acquired the same tint as
their noses. Everybody slapped everybody else's back, when
the time for parting came ; and the Baron Von Koeldwethout
and his followers rode gayly home.
" For six mortal weeks, the bears and boars had a holiday.
The houses of Koeldwethout and Swillenhausen were united ;
the spears rusted ; and the baron's bugle grew hoarse for
lack of blowing.
" Those were great times for the four-and-twenty ; but,
alas ! their high and palmy days had taken boots to them-
selves, and were already walking off.
" ' My dear,' said the baroness.
" ' My love,' said the baron.
" ' Those coarse, noisy men •'
"'Which, ma'am .? " said the baron starting.
" The baroness pointed, from the window at which they
stood, to the court-yard beneath, where the unconscious Lin-
coln greens were taking a copious stirrup-cup, preparatory to
issuinof forth after a boar or two.
" ' My hunting train, ma'am,' said the baron.
" ' Disband them, love,' murmured the baroness.
" ' Disband them ! ' cried the baron, in amazement.
" ' To please me, love,' replied the baroness.
" ' To please the devil, ma'am,' answered the baron.
" Whereupon the baroness uttered a great cry, and swooned
away at the baron's feet.
"What could the baron do ? He called for the lady's maid,
and roared for the doctor ; and then, rushing into the yard,
kicked the two Lincoln greens who were the most used to it,
and cursing the others all round, bade them go but
never mind where. I don't know the German for it, or I
would put it delicately that way.
" It is not for me to say by what means or by what degrees,
some wives manage to keep down some husbands as they do,
although I may have my private opinion on the subject, and
may think that no Member of Parliament ought to be married,
inasmuch as three married members out of every four, must
vote according to their wives' consciences (if there be such
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
75
things), and not according to their own. All I need say, just
now, is, that the Baroness Von Koeldwethout somehow or
other acquired great control over the Baron Von Koeldwe-
thout, and that, little by little, and bit by bit, and day by day,
and year by year, the baron got the worst of some disputed
question, or was slyly unhorsed from some old hobby ; and
that by the time he was a fat hearty fellow of forty-eight or
thereabouts, he had no feasting, no revelr}^, no hunting train,
and no hunting — nothing in short that he liked, or used to
have ; and that, although he was as fierce as a lion and as
bold as brass, he was decidedly snubbed and put down, by his
own lady, in his own castle of Grogzwig.
" Nor was this the whole extent of the baron's misfortunes.
About a year after his nuptials, there came into the world a
lusty young baron, in whose honor a great many fireworks
were let off, and a great many dozens of wine drunk ; but
next year there came a young baroness, and next year another
)^oung baron, and so on, every year, either a baron or bar-
oness (and one year both together), until the baron found him-
self the father of a small family of twelve. Upon every one of
these anniversaries, the venerable Baroness Von Swillenhausen
was nervously sensitive for the well-being of her child, the
Baroness Von Koeldwethout ; and although it was not found
that the good lady ever did anything material towards contrib-
uting to her child's recovery, still she made it a point of duty
to be as nervous as possible at the castle at Grogzwig, and to
divide her time between moral observations on the baron's
housekeeping, and bewailing the hard lot of her unhappy
daughter. And if the Baron of Grogzwig, a little hurt and
irritated at this, took heart, and ventured to suggest that his
was at least no worse off than the wives of other barons, the
Baroness Von Swillenhausen begged all persons to take no-
tice, that nobody but she sympathized with her dear daugh-
ter's sufferings ; upon which, her relations and friends re-
marked, that to be sure she did cry a great deal more than her
son-in-law, and that if there were a hard-hearted brute alive,
it was that Baron of Grogzwig.
" The poor baron bore it all, as long as he could, and
when he could bear it no longer lost his appetite and his
spirits, and sat himself gloomily and dejectedly down. But
there were worse troubles yet in store for him, and as they
came on, his melancholy and sadness increased. Times
changed. He got into debt. The Grogzwig coffers ran low,
J 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
though the Swillenhausen family had looked upon them as in-
exhaustible ; and just when the baroness was on the point of
making a thirteenth addition to the family pedigree, Von
Koeldwethout discovered that he had no means of replenish-
ing them.
" ' I don't see what is to be done,' said the baron. ' I
think I'll kill myself.'
" This was a bright idea. The baron took an old hunting-
knife from a cupboard hard by, and having sharpened it on
his boot, made what boys call ' an offer ' at his throat.
" ' Hem ! ' said the baron, stopping short. ' Perhaps it's
not sliarp enough.'
" The baron sharpened it again, and made another offer,
when his hand was arrested by a loud screaming among the
young barons and baronesses, who had a nursery in an up
stairs tower with iron bars outside the window, to prevent
their tumbling out into the moat.
" ' If I had been a bachelor,' said the baron sighing, ' I
might have done it fifty times over, without being interrupted.
Hallo ! Put a flask of wine and the largest pipe, in the little
vaulted room behind the hall.'
" One of the domestics, in a very kind manner, executed
the baron's order in the course of half an hour or so, and Von
Koeldwethout being apprised thereof, strode to the vaulted
room, the walls of which, being of dark shining wood, gleamed
in the light of the blazing logs which were piled upon the
hearth. The bottle and pipe were ready, and, upon the whole,
the place looked very comfortable.
" 'Leave the lamp,' said the baron.
" ' Anything else, my lord ? ' inquired the domestic.
" 'The room,' replied the baron. The domestic obeyed,
and the baron locked the door.
" ' Til smoke a last pipe,' said the baron, ' and then I'll be
off.' So, putting the knife upon the table till he wanted it,
and tossing off a goodly measure of wine, the Lord of Grogz-
wig threw himself back in his chair, stretched his legs out
before the fire, and puffed away.
" He thought about a great many things — about his pres-
ent troubles and past days of bachelorship, and about the Lin-
coln greens, long since dispersed up and down the country,
no one knew whither : with the exception of two who had
been unfortunately beheaded, and four who had killed them-
selves with drinking. His mind was running upon bears and
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 77
boars, when, in the process of draining his glass to the bot-
tom, he raised his eyes, and saw, for the first time and with
unbounded astonishment, that he was not alone.
" No, he was not ; for, on the opposite side of the fire,
there sat with folded arms a wrinkled hideous figure, with
deeply sunk and bloodshot eyes, and an immensely long cadav-
erous face, shadowed by jagged and matted locks of coarse
black hair. He wore a kind of tunic of a dull bluish color,
which, the baron observed, on regarding it attentively, was
clasped or ornamented down the front with coffin handles.
His legs, too, were encased in coffin plates as though in arm-
or ; and over his left shoulder he wore a short dusky cloak,
which seemed made of a remnant of some pall. He took no
notice of the baron, but was intently eyeing the fire.
" ' Halloa ! ' said the baron, stamping his foot to attract
attention.
*' ' Halloa ! ' replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards
the baron, but not his face or himself. ' What now ? '
" ' What now ! ' replied the baron, nothing daunted by his
hollow voice and lustreless eyes, ' / should ask that question.
How did you get here ? '
" ' Through the door,' replied the figure
" ' What are you .'' ' says the baron.
" 'A man,' replied the figure.
"' I don't believe it,' says the baron,
"'Disbelieve it then," says the figure.
*' ' I will,' rejoined the baron.
" The figure looked at the bold Baron of Grogzwig for
some time, and then said familiarly,
" ' There's no coming over you, I see. I'm not a man ! '
" ' What are you then ? ' asked the baron.
" ' A genius,' replied the figure.
*' ' You don't look much like one,' returned the baron.
" ' I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide,' said the ap-
parition. ' Now you know me.'
'" With these words the apparition turned towards the baron,
as if composing himself for a talk — and, what was very remark-
able, was, that he threw his cloak aside, and displaying a
stake, which was run through the centre of his body, pulled it
out with a jerk, and laid it on the table, as composedly as if
it had been a walking-stick.
" ' Now,' said the figure, glancing at the hunting-knife,
* are you ready for me ? '
^8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" ' Not quite,' rejoined the baron ; ' I must finish this pipe
first.'
" ' Look sharp then,' said the figure.
"'You seem in a hurry,' said the baron.
" 'Why, yes, I am,' answered the figure ; 'they're doing a
pretty brisk business in my way, over in England and France
just now, and my time is a good deal taken up.'
" ' Do you drink ? ' said the baron, touching the bottle with
the bowl of his pipe.
" ' Nine times out of ten, and then very hard,' rejoined the
figure, drily.
'• ' Never in moderation ? ' asked the baron.
" ' Never,' repUed the figure, with a shudder, ' that breeds
cheerfulness.'
" The baron took another look at his new friend, whom he
thought an uncommonly queer customer, and at length in-
quired whether he took any active part in such little pro-
ceedings as that which he had in contemplation.
" ' No,' replied the figure evasively ; ' but I am always
present.'
" ' Just to see fair, I suppose ? ' said the baron.
" 'Just that,' replied the figure, playing with the stake, and
examining the ferule.
" ' Be as quick as you can, will you, for there's a young
gentleman who is afflicted with too much money and leisure
wanting me now, I find.'
" ' Going to kill himself because he has too much money ! '
exclaimed the baron, quite tickled ; ' Ha ! ha ! that's a good
one.' (This was the first time the baron had laughed for
many a long day.)
"'I say,' expostulated the figure, looking very much
scared ; ' don't do that again.'
" ' Why not .'' ' demanded the baron.
" ' Because it gives me pain all over,' replied the figure.
' Sigh as much as you please ; that does me good.'
" The baron sighed mechanically, at the mention of the
word ; the figure, brightening up again, handed him the hunt-
ing-knife with the most winning politeness.
" ' It's not a bad idea though,' said the baron, feeling the
edge of the weapon ; ' a man killing himself because he has
too much money.'
" ' Pooh ! ' said the apparition, petulantly, ' no better than
a man's killing himself because he has none or little."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
79
" Whether the genius unintentionally committed himself in
saying this, or whether he thought the baron's mind was so
thoroughly made up that it didn't matter what he said, I have
no means of knowing. I only know that the baron stopped
his hand, all of a sudden, opened his eyes wide, and looked as
if quite a new light had come upon him for the first time.
" ' Why, certainly,' said Von Koeldwethout, ' nothing is
too bad to be retrieved.'
" ' Except empty coffers,' cried the genius.
"'Well; but they may be one day filled again,' said the
baron.
" ' Scolding wives,' snarled the genius.
" ' Oh ! They may be made quiet,' said the baron.
" ' Thirteen children,' shouted the genius.
" ' Can't all go wrong, surely,' said the baron.
" The genius was evidently growing very savage with the
baron, for holding these opmions all at once ; but he tried to
laugh it off, and said if he would let him know when he had
left off joking, he should feel obliged to him.
" ' But I am not joking ; I was never farther from it,'
remonstrated the baron.
" ' Well, I am glad to hear that,' said the genius, looking
very grim, 'because a joke, without any figure of speech, is
the death of me. Come ! Quit this dreary world at once.'
" ' I don't know,' said the baron, playing with the knife ;
' it's a dreary one certainly, but I don't think yours is much
better, for you have not the appearance of being particularly
comfortable. That puts me in mind — what security have 1,
that I shall be any the better for going out of the world after
all ! ' he cried, starting up ; 'I never thought of that.'
" ' Dispatch,' cried the figure, gnashing its teeth.
" ' Keep off ! ' said the baron. ' I'll brood over miseries
no longer, but put a good face on the matter and try the fresh
air and the bears again ; and if that don't do, I'll talk to the
baroness soundly, and cut the Von Swillenhausens dead.'
With this the baron fell into his chair, and laughed so loud
and boisterously, that the room rang with it.
" The figure fell back a pace or two, regarding the baron
meanwhile with a look of intense terror, and when he had
ceased, caught up the stake, plunged it violently into its body,
• uttered a frightful howl, and disappeared.
" Von Koeldwethout never saw it again. Having once
made up his mind to action, he soon brought the baroness
3o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
and the Von Swillenhausens to reason, and died many years
afterwards : not a rich man that I am aware of, but certainly
a happy one : leaving behind him a numerous family, who had
been carefully educated in bear and boar-hunting under his
own personal eye. And my advice to all men is, that if ever
they become hipped and melancholy from similar causes (as
very many men do), they look at both sides of the question,
applying a magnifying glass to the best one • and if they still
feel tempted to retire without leave, that they smoke a large
pipe and drink a full bottle first, and profit by the laudable
example of the Baron of Grogzwig."
" The fresh coach is ready, ladies and gentlemen, if you
please," said a new driver, looking in.
This intelligence caused the punch to be finished in a great
hurry, and prevented any discussion relative to the last story.
Mr. Squeers was observed to draw the gray-headed gentle-
man on one side, and to ask a question with great apparent
interest ; it bore reference to the Five Sisters of York, and
was, in fact, an inquiry whether he could inform him how
much per annum the Yorkshire convents got in those days
with their boarders.
The journey was then resumed. Nicholas fell asleep
towards morning, and, when he awoke, found, with great
regret, that, during his nap, both the Baron of Grogzwig and
the gray-haired gentleman had got down and were gone. The
day dragged on uncomfortably enough. At about six o'clock
that night, he and Mr. Squeers, and the little boys, and their
united luggage, were all put down together at the George and
New Inn, Greta Bridge.
CHAPTER VII.
MR. AND MRS. SQUEERS AT HOME.
Mr. Squeers, being safely landed, left Nicholas and the
boys standing with the luggage in the road, to amuse them-
selves by looking at the coach as it changed horses, while he
ran into the tavern and went through the leg-stretching pro-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 8 1
cess at the bar. After some minutes, he returned, with his
legs thoroughly stretched, if the hue of his nose and a short
hiccup afforded any criterion ; and at the same time there
came out of the yard a rusty pony-chaise, and a cart, driven
by two laboring men.
" Put the boys and the boxes into the cart," said Squeers,
rubbing his hands ; " and this young man and me will go on
in the chaise. Get in, Nickleby."
Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeers with some difficulty in-
ducing the pony to obey also, they started off, leaving the
cart-load of infant misery to follow at leisure.
" Are you cold, Nickleby ? " inquired Squeers, after they
had travelled some distance in silence.
" Rather, sir, I must say."
"Well, I don't find fault with that," said Squeers ; " it's a
long journey this weather."
" Is it much farther to Dothebovs Hall, sir ? " asked
Nicholas.
" About three mile from here," replied Squeers. " But
you needn't call it a Hall down here."
Nicholas coughed, as if he would like to know why.
"The fact is, it ain't a Hall," observed Squeers drily.
" Oh, indeed ! " said Nicholas, whom this piece of intelli-
gence much astonished.
" No," replied Squeers. " We call it a Hall up in London,
because it sounds better, but they don't know it by that name
in these parts. A man may call his house an island if he
likes ; there's no act of Parliament against that, I believe } "
"I believe not, sir," rejoined Nicholas.
Squeers eyed his companion slily, at the conclusion of this
little dialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and
appeared in nowise disposed to volunteer any obser\-ations,
contented himself with lashing the pony until they reached
their journey's end.
" Jump out," said Squeers. " " Hallo there ! come and put
this horse up. Be quick, will you ! "
While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other im-
patient cries, Nicholas had time to observe that the school
was a long, cold-looking house, one story high, with a few
straggling outbuildings behind, and a barn and stable adjoin-
ing. After the lapse of a minute or two, the noise of some-
body unlocking the yard-gate was heard, and presently a tall
lean boy, with a lantern in his hand, issued forth.
6
82 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Is that you, Smike ? " cried Squeers.
"Yes, sir," replied the boy.
" Then why the devil didn't you come before ? "
" Please, sir, I fell asleep over the lire," answered Smike,
with humility.
" Fire ! what fire ? Where's there a fire ? " demanded
the schoolmaster, sharply.
" Only in the kitchen, sir," replied the boy. " Missus
said as I was sitting up, I might go in there for a warm."
" Your Missus is a fool," retorted Squeers. " You'd have
been a deuced deal more wakeful in the cold, I'll engage."
By this time Mr. Squeers had dismounted; and after
ordering the boy to see to the pony, and to take care that he
hadn't any more corn that night, he told Nicholas to wait at
the front door a minute while he went round and let him in.
A host of unpleasant misgivings, which had been crowd-
ing upon Nicholas during the whole journey, thronged into
his mind with redoubled force when he was left alone. His
great distance from home and the impossibility of reaching it,
except on foot, should he feel ever so anxious to return, pre-
sented itself to him in most alarming colors ; and as he looked
up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon the wild
country round, covered with snow, he felt a depression of
heart and spirit which he never had experienced before.
" Now then ! " cried Squeers, poking his head out at the
front door. " Where are you, Nickleby ? "
" Here, sir," replied Nicholas.
"Come in, then," said Squeers, " the wind blows in, at
this door, fit to knock a man off his legs."
Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr. Squeers, having bolt-
ed the door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small parlor
scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow map hung
against the wall, and a couple of tables ; one of which bore
some preparations for supper ; while, on the other, a tutor's
assistant, a Murray's grammar, half a dozen cards of terms,
and a worn letter directed to Wackford Squeers, Esquire,
were arranged in picturesque confusion.
They had not been in this apartment a couple of minutes,
when a female bounced into the room, and, seizing Mr.
Squeers by the throat, gave him two loud kisses : one close
after the other, like a postman's knock. The lady, who was
of a large raw-boned figure, \vas about half a head taller than
Mr. Squeers, and was dressed in a dimity night-jacket ; with
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. g,
her hair in papers; she had also a dirty nightcap on, relieved
by a yellow cotton handkerchief which 'tied it under the chin.
" How is my Squeerj- ? " said this lady in a playful man-
ner, and a ver\^ hoarse voice.
"Quite well, my love," replied Squeers. "How's the
cows } "
" All right, every one of 'em," answered the lady.
" And the pigs ? " said Squeers.
" As well as they were when you went away."
"Come; that's a blessing," said Squeers,'pulling off his
great-coat. " The boys are all as they were, I suppose ? "
"Oh, yes, they're well enough,"' replied Mrs. Squeers,
snappishly. " That young Pitcher's had a fever."
" No ! " exclaimed Squeers. " Damn that boy, he's al-
ways at something of that sort."
" Never was such a boy, I do believe," said Mrs. Squeers ;
" whatever he has is always catching too. I say it's obstinacy,
and nothing shall ever convince me that it isn't. I'd beat It
out of him ; and I told you that, six months ago."
"So you did, my love," rejoined Squeers. "We'll Xxy
what can be done."
Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood,
awkwardly enough, in the middle of the room, not \&xy well
knowing whether he was expected to retire into the passage,
or to remain where he was. He was now relieved from his
perplexity by Mr. Squeers.
" This is the new young man, my dear," said that gentle-
man.
"Oh," replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicho-
las, and eyeing him coldly from top to toe. "
" He'll take a meal with us to-night," said Squeers, "and
go among the boys to-morrow morning. You can give him a
shake down here, to-night, can't you ?'"
" We must manage it somehow," replied the lady. " You
don't much mind how you sleep, I suppose, sir ? "
"No, indeed," replied Nicholas, "I am not particular."
"That's lucky," said Mrs. Squeers. And as the lady's
humor was considered to lie chiefly in retort, Mr. Squeers
laughed heartily, and seemed to expect that Nicholas should
do the same.
After some further conversation between the master and
mistress relative to the success of Mr. Squeers's trip, and the
people who had paid, and the people who had made default
84 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
in payment, a young servant girl brought in a Yorkshire pie
and some cold beef, which being set upon the table, the boy
Smike appeared with a jug of ale.
Mr. Squeers was emptying his great-coat pockets of let-
ters to different boys, and other small documents, which he
had brought down in them. The boy glanced, with an anx-
ious and timid expression, at the papers, as if with a sickly
hope that one among them might relate to him. The look
was a very painful one, and went to Nicholas's heart at once ;
for it told a long and very sad history.
It induced him to consider the boy more attentively, and
he was surprised to observe the extraordinary mixture of gar-
ments which formed his dress. Although he could not have
been less than eighteen or nineteen years old, and was tall
for that age, he wore a skeleton suit, such as is usually put
upon veiy little boys, and which, though most absurdly short
in the arms and legs, was quite wide enough for his atten-
uated frame. In order that the lower part of his legs might
be in perfect keeping with this singular dress, he had a very
large pair of boots, originally made for tops, which might
have been once worn by some stout farmer, but were now
too patched and tattered for a beggar. Heaven knows how
long he had been there, but he still wore the same linen which
he had first taken down ; for, round his neck was a tattered
child's frill, only half concealed by a coarse, man's necker-
chief. He was lame ; and as he feigned to be busy in ar-
ranging the table, glanced at the letters with a look so keen,
and yet so dispirited and hopeless, that Nicholas could hardly
bear to watch him.
" What are you bothering about there, Smike ? " cried Mrs.
Squeers ; " let the things alone, can't you."
" Eh ! " said Squeers, looking up. " Oh ! it's you, is it ? "
" Yes, sir," replied the youth, pressing his hands together,
as though to control, by force, the nervous wandering of his
fingers ; " is there "
<( '
Well ! " said Squeers.
" Have you — did anybody — has nothing been heard —
about me ? "
" Devil a bit," replied Squeers testily.
The lad withdrew his eyes, and, putting his hand to his
face, moved towards the door.
"Not a word," resumed Squeers, " and never will be.
Now, this is a pretty sort of thing, isn't it, that you should
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 85
have been left here, all these years, and no money paid after
the first six — nor no notice taken, nor no clue to be got who
you belong to ? It's a pretty sort of thing that I should have
to feed a great fellow like you, and never hope to get one
penny for it, isn't it ? "
The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an
effort to recollect something, and then, looking vacantly at
his questioner, gradually broke into a smile, and limped away.
"I'll tell you what, Squeers," remarked his wife as the
door closed, " I think that young chap's turning silly."
"I hope not," said the schoolmaster; "for he's a handy
fellow out of doors, and worth his meat and drink, anyway.
I should think he'd have wit enough for us though, if he was.
But come ; let's us have supper, for I am hungry and tired,
and want to get to bed."
This reminder brought in an exclusive steak for Mr.
Squeers, who speedily proceeded to do it ample justice.
Nicholas drew up his chair, but his appetite was effectually
taken away.
" How's the steak, Squeers 1 " said Mrs. S.
" Tender as a lamb," replied Squeers. " Have a bit."
" I couldn't eat a morsel," replied his wife. " What'll the
young man take, my dear ? "
" Whatever he likes that's present," rejoined Squeers, in
a most unusual burst of generosity.
" What do you say, Mr. Knuckleboy > " inquired Mrs.
Squeers.
" I'll take a little of the pie, if you please," replied Nicho-
las. " A very little, for I'm not hungry."
" Well, it's a pity to cut the pie if you're not hungr)^, isn't
it?" said Mrs. Squeers. " Will you try a bit of the beef ? "
" Whatever you please," replied Nicholas, abstractedly :
" it's all the same to me."
Mrs. Squeers looked vastly gracious on receiving this
reply ; and nodding to Squeers, as much as to say that she
was glad to find the young man knew his station, assisted
Nicholas to a slice of meat with her own fair hands.
"Ale, Squeery ? " inquired the lady, winking and frowning
to give him to understand that the question propounded,
was, whether Nicholas should have ale, and not whether he
(Squeers) would take any,
" Certainly," said Squeers, re-telegraphing in the same
manner. " A glassful."
86 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
So Nicholas had a glassful, and, being occupied with his
own reflections, drank it, in happy innocence of all the fore-
gone proceedings.
"Uncommon juicy steak that," said Squeers, as he laid
down his knife and fork, after plying it, in silence, for some
time.
" It's prime meat,'' rejoined his lady. " I bought a good
large piece of it myself on purpose for "
" For what ! " exclaimed Squeers hastily. " Not for
the "
"No, no; not for them," rejoined Mrs. Squeers; "on
purpose for you against you came home. Lor ! you didn't
think I could have made such a mistake as that."
"Upon my word, my dear, I didn't know what you were
going to say," said Squeers, who had turned pale.
" You needn't make vourself uncomfortable," remarked
his wife, laughing heartily. " To think that I should be such
a noddy ! Well ! "
This part of the conversation was rather unintelligible ;
but pojDular rumor in the neighborhood asserted that Mr.
Squeers, being amiably opposed to cruelty to animals, not
unfrequently purchased for boy consumption the bodies of
horned cattle who had died a natural death ; possibly he was
apprehensive of having unintentionally devoured some choice
morsel intended for the young gentlemen.
Supper being over, and removed by a small servant girl
with a hungry eye, Mrs. Squeers retired to lock it up, and
also to take into safe custody the clothes of the five boys who
had just arrived, and who were half-way up the troublesome
flight of steps which leads to death's door, in consequence of
exposure to the cold. They were then regaled with a light
supper of porridge, and stowed away, side by side, in a small
bedstead, to warm each other, and dream of a substantial
meal with something hot after it, if their fancies set that way :
which it is not at all improbable they did.
Mr. Squeers treated himself to a stifle tumbler of brandy
and water, made on the liberal half-and-half principle, allowing
for the dissolution of the sugar ; and his amiable helpmate
mixed Nicliolas the ghost of a small glassful of the same com-
pound. This done, Mr. and Mrs. Squeers drew close up to
the fire, and sitting with their feet on the fender, talked con-
fidentially in whispers ; while Nicholas, taking up the tutor's
assistant, read the interesting legends in the miscellaneous
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 87
questions, and all the figures into the bargain, with as much
thought or consciousness of what he was doing, as if he had
been in a magnetic slumber.
At length, Mr. Squeers yawned fearfully, and opined that
it was high time to go to bed ; upon which signal, Mrs.
Squeers and the girl dragged in a small straw mattress and
a couple of blankets, and arranged them into a couch for
Nicholas.
" We'll put you into your regular bed-rocm to-morrow,
Nickleby," said Squeers. ''Let me see! Who sleeps in
Brooks's bed, my dear? "
" In Brooks's," said Mrs. Squeers, pondering. " There's
Jennings, little Bolder, Graymarsh, and what's his name."
"So there is," rejoined Squeers. " Yes ! Brooks is full."
_ilFull ! " thought Nicholas. " I should think he was."
"There's a place somewhere, I know," said Squeers;
j" but I can't at this moment call to mind where it is. How-
/ever, we'll have that all settled to-morrow. Gcod-i.ight,
Nickleby. Seven o'clock in the morning, mind."
"I shall be read}-, sir," replied Nicholas. "Good-night."
" I'll come in myself and show you where the well is,"
said Squeers. " Youll always find a little bit of soap in the
kitchen window ; that belongs to you."
Nicholas opened his eyes, but not his mouth ; and Squeers
was again going away, when he once more turned back.
" I don't know, I am sure," he said, " whose towel to put
you on ; but if you'll make shift with something to-morrow
morning, Mrs. Squeers will arrange that, in the course of the
day. My dear, don't forget."
"I'll take care," replied Mrs. Squeers; "and mind yon
take care, young man, and get first wash. The teacher ought
always to have it ; but thev get the better of him if they can."
" Mr. Squeers then nudged Mrs. Squeers to bring away
the brandy bottle, lest Nicholas should help himself in the
night ; and the lady having seized it with great precipitation,
they retired together.
Nicholas, being left alone, took half a dozen turns up and
down the room in a condition of much agitation and excite-
ment ; but, growing gradually calmer, sat himself down in a
chair, and mentally resolved that, come what com^ niight, he
would endeavor, for a time, to bear whatever wretchedness
might be in store for him, and that remembering the helpless-
of his mother and sister, he would give his uncle no plea for
88 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
deserting them in their need. Good resolutions seldom fail
of producing some good effect in the mind from which they
spring. He grew less desponding, and — so sanguine and
buoyant is youth — even hoped that affairs at Dotheboys Hall
might yet prove better than they promised.
He was preparing for bed, with something like renewed
cheerfulness, when a sealed letter fell from his coat pocket.
In the hurry of leaving London, it had escaped his attention,
and had not occurred to him since, but it at once brought
back to him the recollection of the mysterious behavior of
Newman Noggs.
" Dear me ! " said Nicholas ; " what an extraordinary
hand ! "
It was directed to himself, was written upon ver}^ dirty
paper, and in such cramped and crippled writing as to be
almost illegible. After great difficulty and much puzzling, he
contrived to read as follows : —
" My dear young Man.
" I know the world. Your father did not, or
he would not have done me a kindness when there was no
hope of return. You do not, or you would not be bound on
such a journey.
" If ever you want a shelter in London (don't be angry at
this, /once thought I never should), they know where I live,
at the sign of the Crown, in Silver Street, Golden Square. It
is at the corner of Silver Street and James Street, with a bar
door both ways. You can come at night. Once, nobody was
ashamed — never mind that. It's all over.
" Excuse errors. I should forget how to wear a whole
coat now. I have forgotten all my old ways. My spelling
may have gone with them.
"Newman Noggs.
"P.S. If you should go near Barnard Castle, there is
good ale at the King's Head. Say you know me, and I am
sure they will not charge you for it. You may say Mr. Noggs
there, for I was a gentleman then. I was indeed."
It may be a very undignified circumstance to record, but
after he had folded this letter and placed it in his pocket-book,
Nicholas Nickleby's eyes were dimmed with a moisture that
might have been taken for tears.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 89
CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE INTERNAL ECONOMY OF DOTHEBOYS HALL.
A RIDE of two hundred and odd miles in severe weather,
is one of the best softeners of a Iiard bed that ingenuity can
devise. Perhaps it is even a sweetener of dreams, for those
which hovered over the rough couch of Nicholas, and whispered
their airy nothings in his ear, were of an agreeable and happy
kind. He was making his fortune very fast indeed, when the
faint glimmer of an expiring candle shone before his eyes, and
a voice he had no difficulty in recognizing as part and parcel
of Mr. Squeers, admonished him that it was time to rise.
" Past seven, Nickleby," said Mr. Squeers.
*' Has morning come already .■' " asked Nicholas, sitting up
in bed.
" Ah ! that has it," replied Squeers, " and ready iced too.
Now, Nickleby, come ; tumble up, will you ? "
Nicholas needed no futher admonition, but " tumbled up "
at once, and proceeded to dress himself by the light of the
taper, which Mr. Squeers carried in his hand.
" Here's a pretty go," said that gentleman ; " the pump's
froze."
" Indeed ! " said Nicholas, not much interested in the intel-
ligence.
" Yes," replied Squeers. " You can't wash yourself this
morning."
" Not wash myself ! " exclaimed Nicholas.
"No, not a bit if it," rejoined Squeers tartly. " So you
must be content with giving yourself a dry polish till we break
the ice in the well, and can get a bucketful out for the boys.
Don't stand staring at me, but do look sharp, will you ? "
Offering no further observation, Nicholas huddled on his
clothes. Squeers, meanwhile, opened the shutters and blew
the candle out ; when the voice of his amiable consort was
heard in the passage, demanding admittance.
" Come in, my love," said Squeers.
Mrs. Squeers came in, still habited in the primitive night-
jacket which had displayed the symmetry of her figure on the
go NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
previous night, and futher ornamented with a beaver bonnet
of some antiquity, which she wore with much ease and
lightness, on the top of the nightcap before mentioned.
" Drat the things," said the lady, opening the cupboard ;
"I can't find the school spoon anywhere."'
" Never mind it, my dear," observed Squeers in a soothing
manner ; " it's of no consequence."
"No consequence, why how you talk !" retorted Mrs.
Squeers sharply ; " isn't it brimstone morning ? "
" I forgot, my dear," rejoined Squeers ; "yes, it certainly
is. We purify the boys' bloods now and then, Nickleby."
"Purify fiddlesticks' ends," said his Indy. "Don't think,
young man, that we go to the expense of flower of brimstone
and molasses, just to purify them ; because if you think we
carry on the business in that way, you'll find yourself mistaken,
and so I tell you plainly."
" My dear," said Squeers frowning. " Hem ! "
" Oh ! nonsense," rejoined Mrs. Squeers. " If the young
man comes to be a teacher here, let him understand, at once,
that we don't want any foolery about the boys. They have
the brimstone and treacle, partly because if they hadn't some-
thing or other in the way of medicine they'd be always ailing
and giving a world of trouble, and partly because i-t spoils
their appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and dinner.
So, it does them good and us good at the same time, and
that's fair enough, I'm sure."
Having given this exclamation, Mrs. Squeers put her
hand into the closet and instituted a stricter search after the
spoon, in which Mr. Squeers assisted. A few words passed
between them while they were thus engaged, but as their
voices were partially stifled by the cupboard, all that Nicholas
could distinguish was, that Mr. Squeers said what Mrs.
Squeers had said, was injudicious, and that Mrs. Squeers said
what Mr. Squeers said, was " stuff."
A vast deal of searching and rummaging ensued, and it prov-
ing fruitless, Smike was called in, and pushed by Mrs. Squeers
and bo.xed by Mr. Squeers ; which course of treatment bright-
ening his intellects, enabled him to suggest that possibly
Mrs. Squeers night have the spoon in her pocket, as indeed
turned out to be the case. As Mrs. Squeers had previously
protested, however, that she was quite certain she had not got
it, Smike received another box on the ear for presuming to
contradict his mistress, together with a promise of a sound
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. gi
thrashing if he were not more respectful in future ; so that he
took nothing very advantageous by his motion.
" A most invaluable woman, that, Nickleby," said Squeers
when his consort had hurried away, pushing the drudge before
her.
" Indeed, sir ! " observed Nicholas.
" I don't know her equal," said Squeers ; " I do not know
her equal. That woman, Nickleby, is always the same —
always the same bustling, lively, active, saving creetur that
you see her now."
Nicholas sighed involuntarily at the thought of the agreea-
ble domestic prospect thus opened to \\\\\\ ; but Squeers was,
fortunately, too much occupied with his own reflections to
perceive it.
" It's my way to say, when I am up in London," continued
Squeers, " that to them boys she is a mother. But she is
more than a mother to them ; ten times more. She does
things for them boys, Nickleby, that I don't believe half the
mothers going, would do for their own sons."
"I should think they would not, sir," answered Nicholas.
Now, the fact was, that both Mr. and Mrs. Squeers viewed
the boys in the light of their proper and natural enemies ; or,
in other- words, they held and considered that their business
and profession was to get as much from every boy as could
by possibility be screwed out of him. On this point they
were both agreed, and behaved in unison accordingly. The
only difference between them was, that Mrs. Squeers waged
war against the enemy openly and fearlessly, and that Squeers
covered his rascality, even at home, with a spice of his habit-
ual deceit ; as if he really had a notion of some day or other
being able to take himself in, and persuade bis own mind that
he was a very good fellow.
" But come," said Squeers, interrupting the progress of
some thoughts to this effect in the mind of his usher, " let's
go to the school-room ; and lend me a hand with my school
coat, will vou .'' "
Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian shoot-
ing-jacket, which he took down from a peg in the passage ; and
Squeers, arming himself with his cain, led the way across a
yard, to a door in the rear of the house.
" There," said the schoolmaster as they stepped in together ;
" this is our shop, Nickleby ! "
It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many cb-
92
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY.
jects to attract attention, that, at first, Nicholas stared about
him, really without seeing anything at all. By degrees, how-
ever, the place resolved itself into a bare and dirty room, with
a couple of windows, whereof a tenth part might be of glass,
the remainder being stopped up with old copybooks and
paper. There were a couple of long old rickety desks, cut
and notched, and inked, and damaged, in every possible way ;
two or three frames ; a detached desk for Squeers ; and
another for his assistant. The ceiling was supported, like that
of a barn, by cross beams and rafters ; and the walls were so
stained and discolored, that it was impossible to tell whether
they had ever been touched with paint or whitewash.
But the pupils — the young noblemen ! How the last faint
traces of hope, the remotest glimmering of any good to be
derived from his efforts in this den, faded from the mind of
Nicholas as he looked in dismay around ! Pale and haggard
faces, lank and bony figures, children with the countenances
of old men, deformities with irons upon their limbs, boys of
stunted growth, and others whose long meagre legs would
hardly bear their stooping bodies, all crowded on the view
together ; there w^ere the bleared eye, the hare-lip, the crooked
foot, and every ugliness or distortion that told of unnatural
aversion conceived by parents for their offspring, or of young
lives which, from the earliest dawn of infancy, had been one
horrible endurance of cruelty and neglect. There were little
faces which should have been handsome, darkened with the
scowl of sullen, dogged suffering ; there was childhood with
the light of its eye quenched, its beauty gone, and its helpless-
ness alone remaining ; there were vicious-faced boys, bloom-
ing with leaden eyes, like malefactors in a jail ; and there
were young creatures on whom the sins of their frail parents
had descended, weeping even for the mercenary nurses they
had known, and lonesome even in their loneliness. With
every kindly sympathy and affection blasted in its birth, with
every young and healthy feelings flogged and starved down,
with every revengeful passion that can fester in swollen hearts,
eating its evil way to their core ni silence, what an incipient
HelLwas breedinir here !
And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque
features, which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas,
might have provoked a smile. Mrs. Squeers stood at one of
the desks, presiding over an immense basin of brimstone and
treacle, of which delicious compound she administered a large
NICHOLAS mCKLEBY. g,
instalment to each boy in succession : using for the purpose a
common wooden spoon, which might have been originally
manufactured for some gigantic top, and which widened every
young gentleman's mouth considerably : they being all obliged,
under heavy corporal penalties, to take in the whole of the
bowl at a gasp. In another corner, huddled together for com-
panionship, were the little boys who had arrived on the pre-
ceding night, three of them in very large leather breeches, and
two in old trousers, a something tighter fit than drawers are
usually worn ; at no great distance from these was seated the
juvenile son and heir of Mr. Squeers — a striking likeness of
his father — kicking, with great vigor, under the hands of
Smike, who was fatting upon him a pair of new boots that
bore a most suspicious resemblance to those which the least of
the little boys had worn on the journey down — as the little
boy himself seemed to think, for he was regarding the appro-
priation with a look of most rueful amazement. Besides these,
there was a long row of boys waiting, with countenances of no
pleasant anticipation, to be treacled ; and another file, who
had just escaped from the infliction, making a variety of wry
mouths indicative of anything but satisfaction. The whole
were attired in such motley, ill-sorted, extraordinary garments,
as would have been irresistibly ridiculous, but for the foul ap-
pearance of dirt, disorder, and disease, with which they were
associated.
"Now," said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his
cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump out of their
boots, " is that physicking over ? "
•'Just over," said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in
her hurry, and tapping the crown of his head with the wooden
spoon to restore him. " Here, you Smike ; take away now.
Look sharp ! "
Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs. Squeers having
called up a little boy with a curly head, and wiped her hands
upon it, hurried out ofter him into a species of wash-house,
where there was a small lire and a large kettle, together with
a number of little wooden bowls which were arranged upon a
board.
Into these bowls, Mrs. Squeers, assisted by the hungry
servant, poured a brown composition, which looked like diluted
pincushions without the covers, and was called porridge. A
minute wedge of brown bread was inserted in each bowl, and
when they had eaten their porridge by means of the bread.
c,4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
the boys ate the bread itself, and had finished their break-
fast ; whereupon Mr. Squeers said, in a solemn voice, '* For
what we have received, may the Lord make us truly thank-
ful ! " — and went away to his own.
Nicholas distended his stomach with a bowl of porridge,
for much the same reason which induces some savages to
swallow earth — lest they should be inconveniently hungr)'-
when there is nothing to eat. Having further disposed of a
slice of bread and butter, allotted to him in virtue of his office,
he sat himself down, to wait for school-time.
He could not but observe how silent and sad the boys all
seemed to be. There was none of the noise and clamor of a
school-room ; none of its boisterous play, or hearty mirth.
The children sat crouching and shivering together, and seemed
to lack the spirit to move about. The only pupil who evinced
the slightest tendency towards locomotion or playfulness was
Master Squeers, and as his chief amusement was to tread upon
the other boys' toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits was
rather disgreeable than otherwise.
After some half-hour's delay, Mr. Squeers reappeared, and
the boys took their places and their books, of which latter
commodity the average might be about one to eight learners.
A few minutes having elapsed, during which Mr. Squeers
looked very profound, as if he had a perfect apprehension
of what was inside all the books, and could say ever}^ word of
their contents by heart if he only chose to take the trouble,
that gentleman called up the first class.
Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front
of the schoolmaster's desk, half-a-dozen scarecrows, out at
knees and elbows, one of whom placed a torn and filthy book
beneath his learned eye.
" This is the class in English spelling and philosophy,
Nickleby," said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside
him. " We'll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to you.
Now, then, where's the first boy ? "
" Please, sir, he's cleaning the back parlor window," said
the temporary head of the philosophical class.
" So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. " We go upon the
practical mode of teaching, Nickleby ; the regular education
system. C-1-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright, to scour.
W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a casement. When the boy knows
this out of book, he goes and does it. It's just the same
principle as the use of the globes. Where's the second boy !"
\
NICHOLAS mCKLEBY. K)^<)^
" Please, sir, he's weeding the garden," replied a small
voice.
" To be sure," said Squeers, by no means disconcerted.
" So he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, ,
noun substantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has learned 7
that bottiney means a knowledge of plants, he goes and knows
'em. That our system, Nickleby ; what do you think of it? "
" It's a very useful one, at any rate," answered Nicholas. .
" I believe you," rejoined Squeers, not remarking the
emphasis of his usher. " Third boy, what's a horse ? "
" A beast, sir," replied the boy.
," So it is," said Squeers. " Ain't it, Nickleby ? "
" I believe there is no doubt of that, sir," answered
Nicholas.
" Of course there isn't," said Squeers. " A horse is a
quadruped, and quadruped's Latin for beast, as every body
that's gone through the grammar knows, or else where's the
use of having grammars at all ? "
" Where, indeed ! " said Nicholas abstractedly.
" As you're perfect in that," resumed Squeers, turning to
the boy, " go and look after viy horse, and rub him down well,
or I'll rub you down. The rest of the class go and draw
water up, till somebody tells you to leave ofT, for it's washing
day to-morrow, and they want the coppers filled."
So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments
in practical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas with a look, half
cunning and half doubtful, as if he were not altogether certain
what he might think of him by this time.
" That's the way we do it, Nickleby," he said, after a
pause.
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was
scarcely perceptible, and said he saw it was.
" And a very good way it is, too," said Squeers. " Now,
just take them fourteen little boys and hear them some read-
ing, because, you know, you must begin to be useful. Idling
about here, won't do."
Mr. Squeers said this, as if it had suddenly occurred to
him, either that he must not say too much to his assistant, or
that his assistant did not say enough to him in praise of the
establishment. The children were arranged in a semicircle
round the new master, and he was soon listening to their dull,
drawling, hesitating recital of those stories of engrossing
interest which are to be found in the more antiquated spelling
books.
g6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
In this exciting occupation, the morning lagged heavily on.
At one o'clock, the boys, having previously had their appetites
thoroughly taken away by stir-about and potatoes, sat down
in the kitchen to some hard salt beef, of which Nicholas was
graciously permitted to take his portion to his own solitary
desk, to eat it there in peace. After this, there was another
hour of crouching in the school-room and shivering with cold,
and then school began again.
It was Mr. Squeers's custom to call the boys together, and
make a sort of report, after every half-yearly visit to the metro-
polis, regarding the relations and friends he had seen, the
news he had heard, the letters he had brought down, the bills
which had been paid, the accounts which had been left unpaid,
and so forth. This solemn proceeding always took place in
the afternoon of the day succeeding his return ; perhaps, be-
cause the boys acquired strength of mind from the suspense of
the morning, or possibly, because Mr. Squeers himself acquired
greater sternness and inflexibility from certain warm potations
in which he was wont to indulge after his early dinner. Be
this as it may, the boys were recalled from house-window,
garden, stable, and cow-yard, and the school were assembled
in full conclave, when Mr. Squeers, with a small bundle of
papers in his hand, and Mrs. S. following with a pair of canes,
entered the room and proclaimed silence.
" Let any boy speak a word without leave," said Mr.
Squeers mildly, " and I'll take the skin off his back."
This special proclamation had the desired elTect, and a
death-like silence nnmediately prevailed, in the midst of which
Mr. Squeers went on to say :
" Boys, I've been to London, and have returned to my
family and you, as strong and well as ever."
According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble
cheers at this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers ! Sighs
of e.xtra strength with the chill on.
" I have seen the parents of some boys," continued
Squeers, turning over his papers, " and they're so glad to hear
how their sons are getting on, that there's no prospect at all
of their going away, which of course is a very pleasant thing
to reflect upon, for all parties."
Two or three hands went to two or three eyes when Squeers
said this, but the greater jDart of the young gentlemen having
no particular parents to speak of, were wholly uninterested in
the thing one way or other.
NICHOLAS NJCKLEB Y
97
" I have had disappointments to contend against," said
Squeers, looking very grim ; " Bolder's father was two pound
ten short. Where is Bolder?"
" Here he is, please sir," rejoined twenty officious voices.
Boys are very like men to be sure.
" Come here, Bolder," said Squeers.
An unhealthy-looking boy, with warts all over his hands,
stepped from his place to the master's desk, and raised his
eyes imploringly to Squeers's face ; his own quite white from
the rapid beating of his heart.
" Bolder," said Squeers, speaking very slowly, for he was
considering, as the saying goes, where to have him. " Bolder,
if your father thinks that because — why, what's this, sir? "
As Squeers spoke, he caught up the boy's hand by the cuff
of his jacket, and surveyed it with an edifying aspect of horror
and disgust.
" What do you -call this, sir ? " demanded the school-
master, administering a cut with the cane to expedite the
reply.
" I can't help it, indeed, sir," rejoined the boy, crying.
" They will come ; it's the dirty work I think, sir — at least I
don't know what it is, sir, but it's not my fault."
" Bolder," said Squeers, tucking up his wristbands, and
moistening the palm of his right hand to get a good grip of
the cane, " you are an incorrigible young scoundrel, and as
the last thrashing did you no good, we must see what another
will do towards beating it out of you."
W^ith this, and wholly disregarding a piteous cry for mercy,
Mr. Squeers fell upon the boy and caned him soundly : not
leaving off indeed, until his arm was tired out.
" There," said Squeers, when he had quite done ; " rub
away as hard as you like, you won't rub that off in a hurry.
Oh ! you won't hold that noise, won't you ? Put him out,
Smike.."
The drudge knew better from long experience, than to
hesitate about obeying, so he bundled the victim out by a side
door, and Mr. Squeers perched himself again on his own stool,
supported by Mrs. Squeers, who occupied another at his side.
" Now let us see," said Squeers. " A letter for Cobbey.
Stand up, Cobbey."
Another boy stood up, and eyed the letter very hard while
Squeers made a mental abstract of the same.
" Oh ! " said Squeers : " Cobbey's grandmother is dead,
7
98
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
and his uncle John has took to drinking, which is all the news
his sister sends, except eighteenpence, which will just pay for
that broken square of glass. Mrs. Squeers, my dear, will you
take the money ? "
The worthy lady pocketed the eighteenpence with a most
business-iike air, and Squeers passed on to the next boy, as
coolly as possible.
" Graymarsh,'' said Squeers, " he's the next. Stand up,
Graymarsh."
Another boy stood up, and the schoolmaster looked over
the letter as before.
" Graymarsh's maternal aunt," said Squeers, when he had
possessed himself of the contents, " is very glad to hear he's
so well and happy, and sends her respectful compliments to
Mrs. Squeers, and thinks she must be an angel. She likewise
thinks Mr. Squeers is too good for this world; but hopes he
may long be spared to carry on the business. Would have
sent the two pair of stockings as desired, but is short of
money, so forwards a tract instead, and hopes Graymarsh will
put his trust in Providence. Hopes, above all, that he will
study in every thing to please Mr. and Mrs. Squeers, and look
upon them as his only friends ; and that he will love Master
Squeers ; and not object to sleeping five in a bed, which no
Christian should. Ah!" said Squeers, folding it up, " a de-
lightful letter. Very affecting indeed."
It was affecting in one sense, for Graymarsh's maternal
aunt was strongly supposed, by her more intimate friends, to
be no other than his maternal parent ; Squeers, however,
without alluding to this part of the story (which would have
sounded immoral before boys), proceeded with the business
by calling out " Mobbs," whereupon another boy rose, and
Graymarsh resumed his seat.
" Mobbs's mother-in-law," said Squeers, " took to her bed
on hearing that he wouldn't eat fat, and has been very jll ever
since. She wishes to know, by an early post, where he ex-
pects to go to, if he quarrels with his vittles ; and with what
feelings he could turn up his nose at the cow's liver broth,
after iiis good master had asked a blessing on it. This was
told her in the London newspapers — not by Mr. Squeers, for
he is too kind and too good to set anybody against anybody
— and it has vexed her so much, Mobbs can't think. She is
sorry to find he is discontented, which is sinful and horrid,
and hopes Mr. Squeers will flog him into a happier state of
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. gg
mind ; with this view, she has also stopped liis halfpenny a
week pocket-money, and given a double-bladed knife with a
corkscrew in it to the Missionaries, which she had bought on
purpose for him."
" A sulky state of feeling," said Squeers, after a terrible
pause, during which he had moistened the palm of his right
hand again, " won't do. Cheerfulness and contentment must
be kept up. Mobbs, come to me ! "
Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes
in anticipation of good cause fordoing so ; and he soon after-
wards retired by the side door, with as good a cause as a
boy need have.
Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous col-
lection of letters ; some enclosing money, which Mrs. Squeers
" took care of ;" and others referring to small articles of ap-
parel, as caps and so forth, all of which the same lady stated
to be too large, or too small, and calculated for nobody but
young Squeers, who would appear indeed to have had most
accommodating limbs, since every thing that came into the
school fitted him to a nicety. His head, in particular, must
have been singularly elastic, for hats and caps of all dimen-
sions were alike to him.
This business despatched, a few slovenly lessons were per-
formed, and Squeers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas
to take care of the boys in the school-room, which was very
cold, and where a meal of bread and cheese was served out
shortly after dark.
There was a small stove at that corner of the room which
was nearest to the master's desk, and by it Nicholas sat down,
so depressed and self-degraded by the consciousness of his
position, that if death could have come upon him at that time,
he would have been almost happy to meet it. The cruelty of
which he had been an unwilling witness, the coarse and ruf-
fianly behavior of Squeers even in his best mood?, the filthy
place, the sights and sounds about him, all contributed to this
state of feeling ; but when he recollected that, being there as
as an assistant, he actually seemed— no matter what unhappy
train of circumstances had brought him to that pass — to be
the aider and abettor of a system which filled him with honest
disgust and indignation, he loathed himself, and felt, for the
moment, as though the mere consciousness of his present sit-
uation must, through all time to come, pre\ent his raising his
head again.
loo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
But, for the present, his resolve was taken, and the reso-
lution he had formed on the preceding night remained undis-
turbed. He had written to his mother and sister, announcing
the safe conclusion of his journey, and saying as linle about
Dotheboys Hall, and saying that little as cheerfully as he
possibly could. He hoped that by remaining where he was,
he might do some good, even there ; at all events, others de-
pended too much on his uncle's favor, to admit of his awaken-
ing his wrath just then.
One reflection disturbed him far more than any selfish
considerations arising out of his own position. This was the
probable destination of his sister Kate. His uncle had de-
ceived him, and might he not consign her to some miserable
place where her youth and beauty would prove a far greater
curse than ugliness and decrepitude ? To a caged man,
bound hand and foot, this was a terrible idea ; — but no, he
thought, his mother was by ; there was the portrait-painter,
too — simple enough, but still living in the world, and of it.
He was willing to believe that Ralph Nickleby had conceived
a personal dislike to himself. Having pretty good reason, by
this time, to reciprocate it, he had no great difificulty in arriv-
ing at this conclusion, and tried to persuade himself that the
feeling extended no farther than between them.
As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once
encountered the upturned face of Smike, who was on his
knees before the stove, picking a few stray cinders from the
hearth and planting them on the fire. He had paused to steal
a look at Nicholas, and when he saw that he was obser\-ed,
shrunk back, as if expecting a blow.
" You need not fear me," said Nicholas kindly. " Are
you cold? "
"N-n-o."
" You are shivering."
" I am not cold," replied Smike quickly. " I am used
to it."
There was such an obvious fear of giving offence in his
manner, and he was such a timid, broken-spirited creature,
that Nicholas could not help exclaiming, " Poor fellow ! "
If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away
without a word. 15ut, now, he burst into tears.
" Oh dear, oh dear ! " he cried, covering his face with his
cracked and horny hands. " My heart will break. It will, it
will."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. i o i
" Hush ! " said Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoul-
der. " Be a man ; you are nearly one by years, God help
you."
" By years ! " cried Smike. " Oh dear, dear, how many of
them ! How many of them since I was a liule child, younger
than any that are here now ! Where are they all ! "
" Whom do you speak of ? " inquired Nicholas, wishing
tj rouse the poor half-witted creature to reason. "Tell
me."
"My friends," he replied, "myself — my — oh! what suf-
ferinsrs mine have been ! "
" There is always hope," said Nicholas ; he knew not what
to say.
" No," rejoined the other, " no ; none for me. Do you re-
member the boy that died here t "
" I was not here, you know," said Nicholas gently ; " but
what of him ? "
" Why," replied the youth, drawing closer to his questioner's
side. " I was with him at night, and when it was all silent he
cried no more for friends he wished to come and sit with him,
but be^an to see faces round his bed that came from home ;
he said they smiled and talked to him ; and he died at last lift-
in r his head to kiss them. Do vou hear ? "
" Yes, yes," rejoined Nicholas.
" What faces will smile on me when I die ! " cried his
companion, shivering. " Who will talk to me in those long
nights ! They cannot come from home ; they would frighten
me, if they did, for I don't know what it is, and shouldn't
know them. Pain and fear, pain and fear for me, alive or
dead. No hope, no hope ! "
The bell rang to bed : and the boy, subsiding at the sound
into his usual listless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid
notice. It was with a heavy heart that Nicholas soon after-
wards— no, not retired ; there was no retirement there — fol-
lowed— to his dirty and crowded dormitory.
I02 NICHOLAS XICKLEBY.
CHAPTER IX.
OF MISS SQUEERS, MRS. SQUEERS, MASTER SQUEERS, AND MR.
SQUEERS ; AND OF VARIOUS MATTERS AND PERSONS CON-
NECTED NO LESS WITH THE SQUEERSES THAN WITH NICH-
OLAS NICKLEBY.
When Mr. Squeers left the school-room for the night, he
betook himself, as has been before remarked, to his own fire-
side, which was situated — not in the room in which Nicholas
had supped on the night of his arrival, but in a smaller depart-
ment in the rear of the premises, where his lady wife, his ami-
able son, and accomplislied daughter, were in the full enjoy-
ment of each other's society ; Mrs. S queers being engaged in
the matronly pursuit of stocking-dar ling ; and the young lady
and gentleman being occupied in the adjustment of some
youthful differences, by means of pugilistic contests across the
table, which, on the approach of their honored parent, sub-
sided into a noiseless exchange of kicks beneath it.
And, in this place, it may be as well to apprise the reader,
that Miss Fanny Squeers was in her three-and-twentieth year.
If there be any one grace or loveliness inseparable from that
particular period of life, Miss Squeers may be presumed to
have been possessed of it, as there is no reason to suppose
that she was a solitary exception to an universal rule. She
was not tall like her mother, but short like her father ; from
the former she inherited a voice of harsh quality ; from the
latter a remarkable expression of the right eye, something
akin to having none at all.
Miss Squeers had been spending a few days with a neigh-
boring friend, and had only just returned to the parental roof.
To this circumstance may be referred, her having heard noth-
ing of Nicholas, until Mr. Squeers himself now made him the
subject of conversation.
"Well, my dear," said Squeers, drawing up his chair,
"what do you think of him by this time ?"
"Think of who .'" inquired Mrs. Squeers; who (as she
often remarked)\vas no grammarian, thank Heaven.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 103
" Of the young man — the new teacher — who else could I
mean."
" Oh ! that Knuckleboy," said Mrs. Squeers impatiently.
" I hate him."
" What do you hate him for, my dear ? " asked Squeers.
" What's that to you ? " retorted Mrs. Squeers. " If I hate
him, that's enough ain't it."
" Quite enough for him, my dear, and a great deal too much
I dare say, if he knew it," replied Squeers in a pacific tone. " I
only asked from curiosity, my dear."
" Well, then, if you want to know," rejoined Mrs. Squeers,
" I'll tell you. Because he's a proud, haughty consequential,
turned-up-nosed peacock."
Mrs. Squeers, when excited, was accustomed to use strong
language, and, moreover, to make use of plurality of epithets,
some of which was of a figurative kind, as the word peacock,
and furthermore the allusion to Nicholas's nose, which was not
intended to be taken in its literal sense, but rather to bear a
latitude of construction according to the fancy of the hearers.
Neither were they meant to bear reference to each other,
so much as to the object on whom they were bestowed, as will
be seen in the present case : a peacock with a turned-up-nose
being a novelty in ornithology, and a thing not commonly
seen.
" Hem ! " said Squeers, as if in mild deprecation of this
outbreak. " He is cheap, my dear ; the young man is very
cheap."
" Not a bit of it," retorted Mrs. Squeers.
" Five pound a year," said Squeers.
" What of that ; it's dear if you don't want him, isn't it ? "
replied his wife.
" But we do want him," urged Squeers.
" I don't see that you want him any more than the dead,"
said Mrs. Squeers. " Don't tell me. You can put on the
cards and in the advertisements, ' Education by Mr. Wack-
ford Squeers and able assistants,' without having any assistants
can't you ? Isn't it done every day by all the masters about .''
I've no patience with you."
" Haven't you ! " said Squeers, sternly. " Now I'll tell you
what Mrs. Squeers. In this matter of having a teacher, I'll
take my own way, if you please. A slave driver in the West
Indies is allowed a man under him, to see that his blacks
don't run away, or get up a rebellion ; and I'll have a man
I04 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
under me to do t4ie same with our blacks, till such time as
little Wackford is able to take charge of the school."
" Am I to lake care of the school when I grow up a man,
father ? " said Wackford junior, suspending in the excess of
his delight, a vicious kick which he was administering to his
sister.
" You are, my son," replied Mr. Squeers in a sentimental
voice.
" Oh my eye, won't I give it to the boys ! " exclaimed the
interesting child, grasping his father's cane. " Oh, father,
won't I make 'em squeak again ! "
.It was a proud moment in Mr. Squeers's life, when he
witnessed that burst of enthusiasm in his young child's mind,
and saw in it a foreshadowing of his future eminence. He
pressed a penny into his hand, and gave vent to his feelings
(as did his exemplary wife also), in a shout of approving laugh-
ter. The infantine appeal to their common sympathies, at
once restored cheerfulness to the conversation and harmony
to the company.
" He's a nasty stuck-up monkey, that's what I consider
him," said Mrs. Squeers reverting to Nicholas.
" Supposing he is," said Squeers, " he is as well stuck up in
our school-room as anywhere else, isn't he ? — ^especially as he
don't like it."
"Well," observed Mrs. Squeers, "there's something in
that. I hope it'll bring his pride down, and it shall be no
fault of mine if it don't."
Now, a proud usher in a Yorkshire school was such a very
extraordinary and unaccountable thing to hear of, — any usher
at all being a novelty ; but a proud one, a being of whose ex-
istence the wildest imagination could never have dreamed —
that Miss Squeers, who seldom troubled herself with scholas-
tic matters, inquired with much curiosity who this Knuckle-
boy was, that gave himself such airs.
"Nickleby," said Squeers, spelling the name according to
some eccentric system which prevailed in his own mind ; " your
motlier always calls things and people by their wrong names."
" No matter for that," said Mrs. Squeers, " I see them
with right eyes, and that's quite enough for me. I watched
him when you were laying on to little Bolder this afternoon.
He looked as black as thunder, all the while, and, one time
started up as if he had more than made up his mind to make
a rush at you. / saw him though he thought I didn't."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 1 05
" Never mind that, father," said Miss Squeers, as the head
of the family was about to reply. " Who is the man ? "
" Wiiy, your father has got some nonsense in his head that
he's the son of a poor gentleman that died the other day,"
said Mrs. Squeers.
" The son of a gentleman ! "
" Yes ; but I don't believe a word of it. If he's a gentle-
man's son at all, he's a fondling, that's my opinion."
Mrs. Squeers intended to say " foundling," but, as she fre-
quently remarked when she made any such mistake, it would
be all die same a hundred years hence ; with which axiom of
philosophy, she was in the constant habit of consoling the
boys when they labored under more than ordinary ill usage.
" He's nothing of the kind," said Squeers, in answer to
the above remark, " for his father was married to his mother
years before he was born, and she is ali\ e now. If he was, it
would be no business of ours, for we make a very good friend
by having him here ; and if he likes to learn the boys any-
thing besides minding them, I have no objection I am sure."
" I say again, I hate him worse than poison," said Mrs
Squeers, vehemently.
" If you dislike him, my dear," returned Squeers, " I
don't know anybody who can show dislike better than you,
and of course there's no occasion, with him, to take the trou-
ble to hide it."
" I don't intend to, I assure you," interposed Mrs. S.
" That's right," said Squeers ; " and if he has a touch of
pride about him, as I think he has, I don't believe there's a
woman in all England that can bring anybody's spirit down,
as quick as you can, my love."
Mrs. Squeers chuckled vastly on the receipt of these com-
pliments, and said, she hoped she had tamed a high spirit or
two, in her day. It is but due to her character to say, that in
conjunction with her estimable husband, she had broken
manv and many a one.
Miss Fanny Squeers carefully treasured up this, and much
more conversation on the same subject, until she retired for
the ni'dit, when she questioned the hungry servant, minutely,
regarding the outward appearance and demeanor of Nicholas ;
toVhich queries the girl returned such enthusiastic replies,
coupled with so many laudatory remarks touching his beauti-
ful dark eyes, and his sweet smile, and his straight legs — upon
which last-named articles she laid particular stress ; the gen-
1 06 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
eral run of legs at Dotheboys Hall being crooked — that Miss
Squeers was not long in arriving at the conclusion that the new
usher must be a very remarkable person, or, as she herself
significantly phrased it, " something quite out of the com-
mon." And so Miss Squeers made up her mind that she
would take a personal observation of Nicholas the very next
day.
In pursuance of this design, the young lady watched the
opportunity of her mother being engaged, and her father ab-
sent, and went accidentally into the school-room to get a pen
mended : where, seeing nobody but Nicholas presiding over
the boys, she blushed very deeply, and exhibited great con-
fusion.
" I beg your pardon," faltered Miss Squeers ; " I thought
my father was — or might be — ^dear me, how very awkward ! "
" Mr. Squeers is out," said Nicholas, by no means over-
come by the apparition, unexpected though it was.
'" Do you know will he be long, sir ? " asked Miss Squeers,
with bashful hesitation.
" He said about an hour," replied Nicholas — politely of
course but without any indication of being stricken to the
heart by Miss Squeers's charms.
" I never knew anything happen so cross," exclaimed the
young lady. " Thank you ! I am veiy sorry I intruded, I
am sure. If I hadn't thought my father was here, I wouldn't
upon any account have — it is very provoking — must look so
very strange," murmured Miss Squeers, blushing once more,
and glancing from the pen in her hand, to Nicholas at his
desk, and back again.
" If that is all you want," said Nicholas, pointing to the
pen, and smiling, in spite of himself, at the affected embar-
rassment of the schoolmaster's daughter, " perhaps I can
supply his place."
Miss Squeers glanced at the door, as if dubious of the
propriety of advancing any nearer to an utter stranger ; then
round the school-room, as though in some measure reassured
by the presence of forty boys ; and finally sidled up to
Nicholas and delivered the pen into his hand, with a most
winning mixture of reserve and condescension.
" Shall it be a hard or a soft nib ? " inquired Nicholas,
smiling to prevent himself from laughing outright.
" He /las a beautiful smile," thought Miss Squeers.
" Which did you say .? " asked Nicholas.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y-
107
" Dear me, I was thinking of something else for the mo-
ment, I declare," replied Miss Squeers — "Oh! as soft as
possible, if you please." With which words Miss Squeers
sighed. It might be to give Nicholas to understand that her
heart was soft, and that the pen was wanted to match.
Upon these instructions Nicholas made the pen ; when he
gave it to Miss Squeers, Miss Squeers dropped it ; and when
he stooped to pick it up Miss Squeers stooped also, and they
knocked their heads together ; whereat five-and-twenty little
boys laughed aloud ; being positively for the first and only
time that half year.
" Very awkward of me," said Nicholas, opening the door
for the young lady's retreat.
" Not at all, sir," replied Miss Squeers ; '' it was my fault.
It was all my foolish — a — a — good-morning ! "
"Good-by," said Nicholas. "The next I make for you
I hope will be made less clumsily. Take care ! You are
biting the nib off now."
" Really," said Miss Squeers ; " so embarrassing that I
scarcely know what I — very sorry to give you so much
trouble."
" Not the least trouble in the world," replied Nicholas,
closing the school-room door.
" I never saw such legs in the whole course of my life ! "
said Miss Squeers, as she walked away.
In fact. Miss Squeers was in love with Nicholas Nickleby.
To account for the rapidity with which this young lady
had conceived a passion for Nicholas, it may be necessary to
state, that the friend from whom she had so recently returned
was a milter's daughter of only eighteen, who had contracted
herself unto the son of a small corn-factor, resident in the
nearest market town. Miss Squeers and the miller's daugh-
ter, being fast friends, had covenanted together some two
years before, according to a custom prevalent among young
ladies, that whoever was first engaged to be married, should
straightway confide the mighty secret to the bosom of the
other, before communicating it to any living soul, and bespeak
her as bridesmaid without loss of time ; in fulfilment of which
pledge the miller's daughter, when her engagement was
formed, came out express, at eleven o'clock at night as the
corn-factor's son made an offer of his hand and heart at
twenty-five minutes past ten by the Dutch clock in the kitchen,
and rushed into Miss Squeers's bed-room with the gratifying
lo8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
intelligence. Now, Miss Squeers being five years older, and
out of her teens (which is also a great matterj, had, since,
been more than commonly anxious to return the compliment,
and possess her friend with a similar secret ; but, either in
consequence of finding it hard to please herself, or harder
still to please any body else, had never had an opportunity
so to do, inasmuch as she had no such secret to disclose.
The little interview with Nicholas had no sooner passed, as
above described, however, than Miss Squeers, putting on
her bonnet, made her way, with great precipitation, to her
friend's house, and, upon a solemn renewal of divers old vows
of secrecy, revealed how that she was — not exactly engaged,
but going to be — to a gentleman's son — (none of your corn-
factors, but a gentleman's son of high descent) — who had
come down as teacher to Dotheboys Hall, under most myste-
rious and remarkable circumstances — indeed, as Miss Squeers
more than once hinted she had good reason to believe, in-
duced, by the fame of her many charms, to seek her out, and
woo and win her.
" Isn't it an extraordinan,^ thing ? " said Miss Squeers,
emphasizing the adjective stronply.
" Most extraordinary," replied the friend. " But what
has he said to you ? "
"Don't ask me what he said, my dear," rejoined Miss
Squeers. " If you had only seen his looks and smiles ! I
never was so overcome in all my life."
" Did he look in this way ? " inquired the miller's daugh-
ter, counterfeiting, as nearly as she could, a favorite leer of
the corn-factor.
" Very like that — only more genteel," replied Miss
Squeers.
" Ah ! " said the friends, " then he means something,
depend on it."
Miss Squeers, having slight misgivings on the subject,
was by no means ill pleased to be confirmed by a competent
authority ; and, discovering, on further conversation and
comparison of notes, a great many points of resemblance
between the behavior of Nicholas, and that of the corn-factor,
grew so exceedingly confidential, that she intrusted her friend
with a vast number of things Nicholas had 7iot said, which
were all so very complimentary as to be quite conclusi\e.
Then, she dilated on tlie fearful hardship of having a father
and mother strenuously opposed to her intended husband ;
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 109
on which unhappy circumstances she dwelt at great length ;
for the friend's father and mother were quite agreeable to her
being married, and the whole courtship was in consequence
as fiat and common-place an affair as it was possible to
imagine.
" How I should like to see him ! " exclaimed the friend.
" So you shall, 'Tilda," replied Miss Squeers. " I should
consider myself one of the most ungrateful creatures alive, if
I denied you. I think mother's going away for two days to
fetch some boys ; and when she does, I'll ask you and John
up to tea, and have him to meet you."
This was a charming idea, and having fully discussed it,
the friends parted.
It so fell out, that Mrs. Squeers's journey, to some dis-
tance, to fetch three new boys, and dun the relations of two
old ones for the balance of a small account, was fixed, that
very afternoon, for the next day but one ; and on the next
day but one, Mrs. Squeers got outside the coach, as it stopped
to change at Greta Bridge, laking with her a small bundle
containing something in a bottle, and some sandwiches, and
carrying besides a large white top coat to wear in the night-
time ; with which baggage she went her way.
Whenever such opportunities as these occurred, it was
Squeers's custom to drive over to the market town, e\ ery
evening, on pretence of urgent business, and stop till ten or
eleven'o'clock at a tavern he much affected. As the party
was not in his way, therefore, but rather afforded a means of
compromise with Miss Squeers, he readily yielded his full
assent thereunto, and willingly communicated to Nicholas
that he was expected to take his tea in the parlor that even-
ing, at five o'clock.
To be sure Miss Squeers was in a desperate flutter as the
time approached, and to be sure she was dressed out to the
best advantage : with her hair— it had more than a tinge of
red, and she wore it in a crop— curled in five distinct rows,
up to the very top of her head, and arranged dexterously over
the doubtful eye ; to say nothing of the blue sash which floated
down her back, or the worked apron, or the long gloves, or
the green scarf, worn over one shoulder and under the other ;
or any of the numerous devices which were to be as so many
arrows to the heart of Nicholas. She had scarcely completed
these arrangements to her entire satisfaction, when the
friend arrived with a whitey-brown parcel — flat and three-
1 1 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
cornered — containing sundry small adornments which were
to be put on up stairs, and which the friend put on, talking
incessantly. When Miss Squeers had " done" the friend's hair,
the friend " did " Miss Squeers's hair,throwingin some striking
improvements in the way of ringlets down the neck ; and then,
when they were both touched up to their entire satisfaction,
they went down stairs in full state with the long gloves on,
all ready for company.
" Where's John, 'Tilda ? " said Miss Squeers.
" Only gone home to clean himself," replied the friend.
" He will be here by the time the tea's drawn."
" I do so palpitate," observed Miss Squeers.
"Ah ! I know what it is," replied .the friend.
" I have not been used to it, you know, 'Tilda," said Miss
Squeers, applying her hand to the left side of her sash.
" You'll soon get the better of it, dear," rejoined the
friend. While they were talking thus, the hungr}' servant
brought in the tea things, and, soon afterwards, somebody
tapped at the room door.
" There he is ! " cried Miss Squeers. " Oh 'Tilda ! "
" Hush ! " said 'Tilda. " Hem ! Say, come in."
" Come in," cried Miss Squeers faintly. And in walked
Nicholas.
"Good evening," said that young gentleman, all uncon-
scious of Lis conquest. " I understood from Mr. Squeers
that "
" Oh yes ; it's all right," interposed Miss Squeers. " Father
don't tea with us, but you won't mind that, I dare say."
(This was said archly.)
Nicholas opened his eyes at this, but he turned the matter
off very coolly — not caring, particularly, about anything just
then — and went through the ceremony of introduction to the
miller's daughter, with so much grace, that that young lady
was lost in admiration.
" We are only waiting for one more gentleman," said
Miss Squeers, taking off the tea-pot lid, and looking in, to see
how the tea was getting on.
It was matter of equal moment to Nicholas wliether the)
were waiting for one gentleman or twenty, so he recei\ ed the
intelligence with perfect unconcern ; and being out of spirits,
and not seeing any especial reason, why he should make him-
self agreeable, looked out of the window and sighed involun-
tarily.
NICHOLAS lYICKLEBY. m
As luck would have it, Miss Squeers's friend was of a play-
ful turn, and hearing Nicholas sigh, she took it into her head
to rally the lovers on their lowness of spirits.
" But if it's caused by my being here," said the young lady,
" don't mind me a bit, for I'm quite as bad. You may go on
just as you would if you were alone.''
" 'Tilda," said Miss Squeers, coloring up to the top row of
curls, " I am ashamed of you ; " and here the two friends
burst into a variety of giggles, and glanced, from time to time,
over the tops of their pocket-handkerchiefs, at Nicholas, who
from a state of unmixed astonishment, gradually fell into one
of irrepressible laughter — occasioned, partly by the bare no-
tion of his being in love with Miss Squeers, and partly by
the preposterous appearance and behaviour of the two girls.
These two causes of merriment, taken together, struck him as
being so keenly ridiculous, that, despite his miserable con-
dition, he laughed till he was thoroughly exhausted.
" Well," thought Nicholas, " as I am here, and seem
expected, for some reason or other, to be amiable, it's of no
use looking like a goose. I may as well accommodate myself
to the company."
We blush to tell it ; but his youthful spirits and vivacity,
getting, or a time, the better of his sad thoughts, he no sooner
formed this resolution than he saluted Miss Squeers and
the friend, with great gallantr)-, and drawing a chair to the
tea-table, began to make himself more at home than in all
probability an usher has ever done in his employer's house
since ushers were first invented.
The ladies were in the full delight of this altered behaviour
on the part of Mr. Nickleby, when the expected swain arrived,
with his hair x&xy damp from recent washing, and a clean
shirt, whereof the collar might have belonged to some giant
ancestor, forming, together with a white waistcoat of similar
dimensions, the chief ornament of his person.
"Well, John," said Miss Matilda Price (which, by the bye,
was the name of the miller's daughter).
"Week" said John with a grin that even the collar could
not conceal.
" I beg your pardon," interposed Miss Squeers, hastening
to do the honors, " Mr. Nickleby — Mr. John Browdie."
" Servant, sir," said John, who was something over six
feet high, with a face and body rather above the due propor-
tion than below it.
1 1 2 NICHOLAS mCKLEB Y.
" Yours to command, sir," replied Nicholas, making fear-
ful ravages on the bread and butter.
Mr. Browdie was not a gentleman of great conversational
powers, so he grinned twice more, and having now bestowed
his customary mark of recognition on every person in com-
pany, grinned at nothing particular, and helped himself to
food.
" Old wooman awa', bean't she ? " said Mr, Browdie, with
his mouth full.
Miss Squeers nodded assent.
Mr. Browdie gave a grin of special width, as if he thought
that really was something to laugh at, and went to work at
the bread and butter with increased vigor. It was quite a
sight to behold how he and Nicholas emptied the plate be-
tween them.
" Ye wean't get bread and butther ev'ry neight, I expect,
mun," said Mr. Browdie, after he had sat staring at Nicholas
a long time over the empty plate.
Nicholas bit his lip, and colored, but affected not to hear
the remark.
" Ecod," said Mr. Browdie, laughing boisterously. " they
dean't put too much intiv'em. Ye'U be nowt but skeen and
boans if you stop here long eneaf. Ho ! ho ! ho ! "
" You are facetious, sir," said Nicholas, scornfully.
" Na ; I dean't know," replied Mr. Browdie, "but t'oother
teacher, 'cod he wur a lean 'un, he wur." The recollection of
the last teacher's leanness seemed to afford Mr. Browdie the
most exquisite delight, for he laughed until he found it neces-
sary to apply his coat-cuffs to his eyes.
" I don't know whether your perceptions are quite keen
enough, Mr. Browdie, to enable you to understand that your
remarks are offensive," said Nicholas in a towering passion,
" but if they are, have the goodness to — "
" If you say another word, John," shrieked Miss Price,
stopping her admirer's mouth as he was about to interrupt,
"only half a word, I'll never forgive you, or speak to you
again."
" Weel, my lass, I dean't care aboot 'un," said the corn-
factor, bestowing a hearty kiss on Miss Matilda ; " let 'un
gang on, let 'un gang on."
It now became Miss Squeers's turn to intercede with Nich-
olas, which she did with many symptoms of alarm and hor-
ror ; the effect of the double intercession, was, that he and
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
"3
John Browdie shook hands across the table with much grav-
ity ; and such was the imposing nature of the ceremonial,
thac Miss Squeers was overcome and shed tears.
" What's the matter, P'anny ? " said Miss Price.
" Nothing, 'Tilda," replied Miss Squeers, sobbing.
" There never was any danger," said Miss Price, " was
there, Mr. Nickleby .? "
" None at all," replied Nicholas. " Absurd."
" That's right," whispered Miss Price, " say something
kind to her, and she'll soon come round. Here ! Shall John
and I go into the little kitchen, and come back presently ? "
" Not on any account," rejoined Nicholas, quite alarmed
at the proposition. " 'V\^hat on earth should you do that
for .? "
" Well," said Miss Price, beckoning him aside, and speak-
ing with some degree of contempt — " you are a one to keep
company."
" What do you mean ? " said Nicholas ; " I am not a one
to keep company at all — here at all events. I can't make
this out."
"No, nor I neither," rejoined Miss Price; "but men are
always fickle, and always were, and always will be ; that I can
make out, very easily."
" Fickle ! " cried Nicholas ; "what do you suppose ? You
don't mean to say that you think — "
"Oh no, I think nothing at all," retorted Miss Price, pet-
tishly. " Look at her, dressed so beautiful and looking so
well — really almost handsome. I am ashamed of you."
" My dear girl, what have I got to do with her dressing
beautifully or looking well ? " inquired Nicholas.
" Come, don't call me a dear girl," said Miss Price — smil-
ing a little though, for she was pretty, and a coquette too in
her small way, and Nicholas was gooO-looking, and she sup-
posed him the property of somebody else, which were all
reasons why she should be gratified to think she had made
an impression on him, — " or Fanny will be saying it's my
fault. Come ; we're going to have a game at cards." Pro-
nouncing these last words aloud, she tripped away and re-
joined the big Yorkshireman.
This was wholly unintelligible to Nicholas, who had no
other distinct impression on his mind at the moment, than
that Miss Squeers was an ordinary-looking girl, and her friend
Miss Price a pretty one ; but he had not time to enlighten
8
1 1 4 NICHOLAS mCKLEB V.
himself by reflection, for the hearth being by this time swept
up, and the candle snuffed, they sat down to play speculation.
"There are only four of us, 'Tilda," said Miss Squeers,
looking slyly at Nicholas ; " so we had better go partners, two
against two."
"What do you say, Mr. Nickleby ? " inquired Miss Price.
" With all the pleasure in life," replied Nicholas. And so
saying, quite unconscious of his heinous offence, he amalga-
mated into one common heap those portions of a Dotheboys
Hall card of terms, which represented his own counters, and
those allotted to Miss Price, respectively.
" Mr. Browdie," said Miss Squeers hysterically, " shall
we make a bank against them ? "
The Yorkshireman assented — apparently quite over-
whelmed by the new us'ier's impudence — and Miss Squeers
darted a spiteful look at her friend, and giggled convulsively.
The deal fell to Nicholas, and the hand prospered.
"We intend to win everything," said he.
" 'Tilda //<7S won something she didn't expect, I think,
haven't you, dear ? " said Miss Squeers, maliciously.
"Only a dozen and eight, love," rejDlied Miss Price, af-
fecting to take the question in a literal sense.
" How dull you are to-night ! " sneered Miss Squeers.
"No, indeed," replied Miss Price, "I am in excellent
spirits. I was thinking ji'^?^ seemed out of sorts."
" Me ! " cried Miss Squeers, biting her lips, and trembling
with very jealousy ; " oh no ! "
" That's well," remarked Miss Price. " Your hair's coming
out of curl, dear."
"Never mind me," tittered Miss Squeers; "you had
better attend to your partner."
" Thank you for reminding her," said Nicholas. " So she
had."
The Yorkshireman flattened his nose, once or twice, with
his clenched fist, as if to keep his hand in, till he had an
opportunity of exercising it upon the features of some other
gentleman ; and Miss Squeers tossed her head with such
indignation, that the gust of wind raised by the multitudinous
curls in motion, nearly blew the candle out.
" I never had such luck, really," exclaimed coquettish
Miss Price, after another hand or two. " It's all along of
you, Mr. Nickleby, I think. I should like to have you for a
partner always."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 115
" I wish you had."
" You'll have a bad wife, though, if you always win at
cards," said Miss Price.
"Not if your wish is gratified," replied Nicholas. "I am
sure I shall have a good one in that case."
To see how Miss Squeers tossed her head, and the corn
factor flattened his nose, while this conversation was carrying
on ! It would have been worth a small annuity to have
beheld that ; let alone Miss Price's evident joy at making
them jealous, and Nicholas Nickleby's happy unconscious-
ness of making anybody uncomfortable.
"We have all the talking to ourselves, it seems," said
Nicholas, looking good-humoredly round the table as he took
up the cards for a fresh deal.
" You do it so well," tittered Miss Squeers, that it would
be a pity to interrupt, wouldn't it, Mr. Browdie ? He ! he !
he ! "
" Nay," said Nicholas, " we do it in default of having any-
body else to talk to."
" We'll talk to you, you know, if you'll say anything," said
Miss Price.
"Thank you, 'Tilda, dear," retorted Miss Squeers, majes-
tically.
" Or you can talk to each other, if you don't choose to
talk to us," said Miss Price, rallying her dear friend. " John,
why don't you say something ? "
"Say summat?" repeated the Yorkshireman.
" Ay, and not sit there so silent and glum."
" Weel, then ! " said the Yorkshireman, striking the table
heavily with his fist, " what I say's this — Dang my boans and
boddy, if I stan' this ony longer. Do ye gang whoam wi' me,
and do you loight an' t'oight young whipster, look sharp out
for a brokken head, next time he cums under my bond."
" Mercy on us, what's all this ? " cried Miss Price, in af-
fected astonishment.
" Cum whoam, tell'e, cum whoam," replied the Yorkshire-
man, sternly. And as he delivered the reply. Miss Squeers
burst into a shower of tears ; arising in part from desperate
vexation, and in part from an impotent desire to lacerate
somebody's countenance with her fair finger-nails.
This state of things had been brought about by divers
means and workings. Miss Squeers had brought it about,
by aspiring to the high state and condition of being matrimo-
1 1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
nially engaged, without good grounds for so doing ; Miss
Price had brought it about, by indulging in three motives of
action ; first, a desire to punish her friend for laying claim to
a rivalship in dignity, having no good title ; secondly, the
gratification of her own vanity, in receiving the compliments
of a smart young man ; and thirdly, a wish to convince the
corn-factor of the great danger he ran, in deferring the cele-
bration of their expected nuptials ; while Nicholas had brought
it about, by half an hour's gayety and thoughtlessness, and a
very sincere desire to avoid the imputation of inclining at all
to Miss Squeers. So the means employed, and the end pro-
duced, were alike the most natural in the world ; for young
ladies will look forward to being married, and will jostle each
other in. the race to the altar, and will avail themselves of all
opportunities of displaying their own attractions to the best
advantage, down to the very end of time, as they have done
from its beginning.
" Why, and here's Fanny in tears now ! " exclaimed Miss
Price, as if in fresh amazement. " What can be the matter ? "
'' Oh ! you don't know. Miss, of course you don't know
Pray don't trouble yourself to inquire," said Miss Squeers,
producing that change of countenance which children call,
making a face.
" Well, I'm sure ! " exclaimed Miss Price.
" And who cares whether you are sure or not, ma'am .-' "
retorted Miss Squeers making another face.
" You are monstrous polite, ma'am," said Miss Price.
" I shall not come to you to take lessons in the art,
ma'am ! " retorted Miss Squeers.
" You needn't take the trouble to make yourself plainer
than you are, ma'am, however," rejoined Miss Price, "because
that's quite unnecessary."
Miss Squeers, in reply, turned very red, and thanked God
that she hadn't got the bold faces of some people. Miss
Price, in rejoinder, congratulated herself upon not being pos-
sessed of the envious feeling of other people ; whereupon
Miss Squeers made some general remark touching the daiiger
of associating with low persons ; in which Miss Price entirely
coincided : observing that it was very true indeed, and she
had tliought so a long time.
'"Tilda," exclaimed Miss Squeers with dignity, " I hate
you."
" Ah ! There's no love lost between us, I assure you,"
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 117
said Miss Price, tying her bonnet strings with a jerk. " You'll
cry your eyes out, when I'm gone \ you know you will."
" I scorn your words, Minx," said Miss Squeers.
"You pay me a great compHment when you say so,"
answered the miller's daughter, curtseying very low. " Wish
you a very good-night, ma'am, and pleasant dreams attend
your sleep ! "
With this parting benediction, Miss Price swept from the
room, followed by the huge Yorkshireman, who exchanged
with Nicholas, at parting, that peculiarly expressive scowl
with which the cut-and-thrust counts, in melo-dramatic per-
formances, inform each other they will meet again.
They were no sooner gone, than Miss Squeers fulfilled
the prediction of her quondam friend by giving vent to a
most copious burst of tears, and uttering various dismal
lamentations and incoherent words. Nicholas stood lookins:
on for a few seconds, rather doubtful what to do, but feeling
uncertain whether the fit would end in his being embraced,
or scratched, and considering that either infliction would be
equally agreeable, he walked off very quietly while Miss
Squeers was moaning in her pocket-handkerchief.
" This is one- consequence," thought Nicholas, when he
had groped his way to this dark sleeping-room, "of my cursed
readiness to adapt myself to any society in which chance
carries me. If I had sat mute and motionless, as I miirht
have done, this would not have happened."
He listened for a few minutes, but all was quiet.
" I was glad," he murmured, "to grasp at any relief from
the sight of this dreadful place, or the presence of its vile
master. I have set these people by the ears, and made two
new enemies, where. Heaven knows, I needed none. Well,
it is a just punishment for having forgotten, even for an hour,
what is around me now ! "
So saying, he felt his way among the throng of weary-
hearted sleepers, and crept into his poor bed.
^i8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER X.
HOW MR. RALPH NICKLEBY PROVIDED FOR HIS NIECE AND
SISTER-IN-LAW.
On the second morning after the departure of Nicholas
for Yorkshire, Kate Nickleby sat in a very faded chair raised
upon a very dusty throne in Miss La Creevy's room, giving
that lady a sitting for the portrait upon wliich she was en-
gaged ; and towards the full perfection of which. Miss La
Creevy had had the street-door case brought up-stairs, in
order that she might be the better able to infuse into the
counterfeit countenance of Miss Nickleby, a bright salmon
flesh-tint which she had originally hit upon while executing
the miniature of a young officer therein contained, and which
bright salmon flesh-tint was considered by Miss La Creevy's
chief friends and patrons, to be quite a novelty in art : as
indeed it was.
" I think I have caught it now," said Miss La Creevy.
" The \ery shade ! This will be the sweetest portrait I have
ever done, certainly."
"It will be your genius that makes it so, then, I am sure,"
replied Kate, smiling.
"No, no, I won't allow that, my dear," rejoined Miss La
Creevy. " It's a very nice subject — a very nice subject, in-
deed— though of course, something depends upon the mode
of treatment."
" And not a little," observed Kate.
" Why, my dear, you are right there," said Miss La Creevy,
" in the main you are right there ; though I don't allow that
it is of such very great importance in the present case. Ah !
The difficulties of Art, my dear, are great."
"They must be, I have no doubt," said Kate, humoring
her good-natured little friend.
" They are beyond anything you can form the faintest
conception of," replied Miss La Creevy. "What with bring-
ing out eyes with all one's power, and keeping down noses
with all one's force, and adding to heads, and taking away
teeth altogether, you have no idea of the trouble one little
miniature is."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 119
" The remuneration can scarcely repay you," said Kate.
"Why, it does not, and that's the truth," answered Miss
La Creevy ; " and then people are so dissatisfied and unrea-
sonable, that, nine times out of ten, there's no pleasure in
painting them. Sometimes they say, ' Oh, how very serious
you have made me look, Miss La Creevy ! ' and at others,
' La, Miss La Creevy, how very smirking ! ' when the very
essence of a good portrait is, that it niust be either serious or
smirking, or it's no portrait at all."
" Indeed ! " said Kate, laughing.
"Certainly, my dear; because the sitters are always either
the one or the other," replied Miss La Creevy. " Look at
the Royal Academy ! All those beautiful shiny portraits of
gentlemen in black velvet waistcoats, with their fists doubled
up on round tables, or marble slabs, are serious, you know ;
and all the ladies who are playing with little parasols, or little
dogs, or little children — it's the same rule in art, only varj'ing
the objects — are smirking. In fact," said Miss La Creevy,
sinking her voice to a confidential whisper, " there are only
two styles of portrait painting ; the serious and the smirk ;
and we always use the serious for professional people (except
actors sometimes), and the smirk for private ladies and gentle-
men who don't care so much about looking clever."
Kate seemed highly amused by this information, and Miss
La Creevy went on painting and talking, with immovable
complacency.
" What a number of officers you seem to paint ! " said
Kate, availing herself of a pause in the discourse, and glanc-
ing round the room.
"Number of what, child.?" inquired Miss La Creevy,
looking up from her work. " Character portraits, oh yes —
they're not real military men, you know."
" No ! "
" Bless your heart, of course not ; only clerks and that,
who hire a uniform coat to be painted in and send it here in
a carpet bag. Some artists," said Miss La Creevy, "keep a
red coat, and charge seven-and-sixpence extra for hire and
carmine ; but I don't do that myself, for I don't consider it
legitimate."
Drawing herself up, as though she plumed herself greatly
upon not resorting to these lures to catch sitters. Miss La
Creevy applied herself, more intently, to her task : only rais-
ing her head occasionally, to look with unspeakable satisfac-
1 2 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
tion at some touch she had just put in : and now and then
giving Miss Nickleby to understand what particular features
she was at work upon, at the moment ; " not," she expressly-
observed, " that you should make it up for painting, my dear,
but because it's our custom sometimes, to tell sitters what
part we are upon, in order that if there's any particular ex-
pression they want introduced, they may throw it in, at the
time, you know."
*' And when," said Miss La Creevy, after a long silence,
to wit, an interval of full a minute and a half,' "when do you
expect to see your uncle again ? "
" I scarcely know ; I had expected to have seen him be-
fore now," replied Kate. " Soon I hope, for this state of
uncertainty is worse than anvthing."
"I suppose he has moi.cy, hasn't he ?" inquired Miss La
Cree\'y.
" He is very rich, I have heard," rejoined Kate. " I don't
know that he is, but I believe so."
" Ah, you may depend upon it he is, or he wouldn't be so
surly," remarked Miss La Creevy, who was an odd little mix-
ture of shrewdness and simplicity. " When a man's a bear,
he is generally pretty independent."
" His manner is rough," said Kate.
" Rough ! " cried Miss La Creevy, " a porcupine's a feather-
bed to him ! I never met with such a cross-grained old sav-
age."
" It is only his manner, I believe," observed Kate, timidly :
"he was disappointed in early life, I think I have heard, or
has had his temper soured by some calamity. I should be
sorry to think ill of him until I knew he deserved it."
" Well ; that's very right and proper," observed the minia-
ture painter, " and Heaven forbid that I should be the cause of
your doing so ! But, now, mightn't he, without feeling it him-
self, make you and your mama some nice little allowance
that would keep you both comfortable until you were well
married, and be a little fortune to her afterwards ? What
would a hundred a year, for instance, be too him ? "
" I don't know what it would be to him," said Kate, with
energy, " but it would be that to me I would rather die than
take/'
" Heyday ! " cried Miss La Creevy.
"A dependence upon him," said Kate, "would embitter
my whole life. I should feel begging, a far less degradation."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 1 2 1
" WelM " exclaimed Miss La Creevy. " This of a relation
whom you will not hear an indifferent person speak ill of, my
dear, sounds oddly enough, I confess."
" I dare say it does," replied Kate, speaking more gently,
" indeed I am sure it must. I — I — only mean that with the
feelings and recollection of better times upon me, I could
not bear to live on anybody's bounty — not his particularly,
but anybody's."
Miss La Creevy looked slyly at her companion, as if she
doubted whether Ralph himself were not the subject of dis-
like, but seeing that her young friend was distressed, made no
remark.
*' I only ask of him," continued Kate, whose tears fell
while she spoke, " that he will move so little out of his way,
in my behalf, as to enable me by his recommendation — only
by his recommendation — to earn, literally, my bread and
remain with my mother. Whether we shall ever taste happi-
ness again, depends upon the fortunes of my dear brother \
but if he will do this, and Nicholas only tells us that he is
well and cheerful, I shall be contented."
As she ceased to speak, there was a rustling behind the
screen which stood between her and the door, and some per-
son knocked at the wainscot.
" Come in, whoever it is ! " cried Miss La Creevy.
The person complied, and, coming forward at once, gave
to view the form and features of no less an individual than
Mr. Ralph Nickleby himself.
" Your ser\'ant, ladies," said Ralph, looking sharply at them
by turns. " You were talking so loud, that I was unable to
make you hear."
When the man of business had a more than commonly
vicious snarl lurking at his heart, he had a trick of almost
concealing his eyes under their thick and protruding brows,
for an instant, and then displaying them in their full keenness.
As he did so now, and tried to keep down the smile which
parted his thin compressed lips, and puckered up the bad
lines about his mouth, they both felt certain that some part,
if not the whole, of their recent conversation, had been over-
heard.
" I called in, on my way up stairs, more than half expect-
ing to find you here," said Ralph, addressing his niece, and
looking contemptuously at the portrait. " Is that my niece's
portrait, ma'am .? "
122 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Yes it is, Mr. Nickleby," said Miss La Creevy, with a
very sprightly air, " and between you and me and the post,
sir, it will be a very nice portrait too, though I say it who am
the painter."
" Don't trouble yourself to show it to me, ma'am," cried
Ralph, moving away, " I have no eye for likenesses. Is it
nearly finished .-" "
" Why, yes," replied Miss La Creevy, considering with the
pencil end of her brush in her mouth. " Two sittings more
will "
" Have them at once, ma'am," said Ralph. " She'll have
no time to idle over fooleries after to-morrow. Work, ma'am,
work ; we must all work. Have you let your lodgings,
ma'am .'''** '
" I have not put a bill up yet, sir."
" Put it up at once, ma'am ; they won't want the rooms
after this week, or if they do, can't pay for them. Now, my
dear, if you're ready, we'll lose no more time."
With an assumption of kindness which sat worse upon
him, even than his usual manner, Mr. Ralph Nickleby mo-
tioned to the young lady to precede huii, and bowing gravely
to Miss La Creevy, closed the door and followed up stairs,
where Mrs. Nickleby received him with many expressions of
regard. Stopping them somewhat abruptly, Ralph waived
his hand with an impatient gesture, and proceeded to the ob-
ject of his visit.
" I have found a situation for your daughter, ma'am," said
Ralph. ^ — ^-.^ --"
" Well," replied Mrs. Nickleby. " Now, I will say that
that is only just what I have expected of you. ' Depend upon
it,' I said to Kate, only yesterday morning at breakfast, ' that
after your uncle has provided, in that most ready manner, for
Nicholas, he will not leave us until he has done at least the
same for you.' These were my very words, as near as I re-
member. Kate, my dear, why don't you thank your "
"Let me proceed, ma'am, pray," said Ralph, interrupting
his sister-in-law in the full torrent of her discourse.
" Kate, my love, let your uncle proceed," said Mrs. Nick-
leby.
"I am most anxious that he should, mamma," rejoined
Kate.
" Well, my dear, if you are anxious that he should, you
had better allow your uncle to say what he has to say, without
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
123
interruption," observed Mrs. Nickleby, with many small nods
and frowns. " Your uncle's time is very valuable, my dear ;
and however desirous you may be — and naturally desirous, as
1 am sure any affectionate relations who have seen so little of
your uncle as we have, must naturally be — to protract the
pleasure of having him among us, still, we are bound not to
be selfish, but to take into consideration the important nature
of his occupations in the city."
" I am very much obliged to you, ma'am," said Ralph with
a scarcely perceptible sneer. " An absence of business hab-
its in this family leads, apparently, to a great waste of words
before business — when it does come under consideration — is
arrived at, at all."
" I fear it is so indeed," replied Mrs. Nickleby with a sigh.
*' Your poor brother "
" My poor brother, ma'am," interposed Ralph tartly, " had
no idea what business was — was unacquainted, I verily be-
Ueve, with the very meaning of the word."
" I fear he was," said Mrs. Nickleby, with her handker-
chief to her eyes. "If it hadn't been for me, I don't know
what would have become of him."
What strange creatures we are ! The slight bait so skil-
fully thrown out by Ralph, on their first interview, was dang-
ling on the hook yet. At every small deprivation or discom-
fort which presented itself in the course of the four-and-
twenty hours to remind her of her straitened and altered cir-
cumstances, peevish visions of her dower of one thousand
pounds had arisen before Mrs. Nickleby's mind, until, at last,
she had come to persuade herself that of all her late husband's
creditors she was the worst used and the most to be pitied.
And yet, she had loved him dearly for many years, and had
no greater share of selfishness than is the usual lot of mortals.
Such is the irritability of sudden poverty. A decent annuity
would have restored her thoughts to their old train, at once.
" Repining is of no use, ma'am," said Ralph. " Of all
fruitless errands, sending a tear to look after a day that is
gone, is the most fruitless.''
" So it is," sobbed Mrs. Nickleby. " So it is."
" As you feel so keenly, in your own purse and person, the
consequences of inattention to business, ma'am," said Ralph,
" I am sure you will impress upon your children the necessity
of attaching themselves to it, early in life."
" Of course I must see that," rejoined Mrs. Nickleby.
124 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
" Sad experience, you know, brother-in-law — . Kate, my clear,
put that clown in the next letter to Nicholas, or remind me to
do it if I write."
Ralph paused, for a few moments, and seeing that he had
now made pretty sure of the mother, in case the daughter ob-
jected to his proposition, went on to say :
" The situation that I have made interest to procure, ma'am,
is with — with a milliner and dress-maker, in short."
" A milliner ! " cried Mrs. Nickieby.
" A milliner and dress-maker, ma'am," replied Ralph.
"Dress-makers in London, as I need not remind you, ma'am,
who are so well acquainted with all matters in the ordinary
routine of life, make large fortunes, keep equipages, and be-
come persons of great wealth and fortune."
Now, the first ideas called up in Mrs. Nickleby's mind by
the words milliner and dress-maker were connected with cer-
tain wicker baskets lined with black oil-skin, which she re-
membered to have seen carried to and fro in the streets ; but,
as Ralph proceeded, these disappeared, and were replaced by
visions of large houses at the west end, neat private carriages,
and a banker's book ; all of which images succeeded each
other, with such rapidity, that he had no sooner finished speak-
ing, than she nodded her head and said " Veiy true," with
great appearance of satisfaction.
" What your uncle says, is very true, Kate, my dear," said
Mrs. Nickieby. " I recollect when your poor papa and I came
to town after we were married, that a young lady brought me
home a chip cottage-bonnet, with while and green trimming,
and green persian lining, in her own carriage, which drove up
to the door full gallop ; — at least, I am not quite certain
whether it was her own carriage or a hacknev chariot, but I
remember very well that the horse dropped down dead as he
was turning round, and that your poor papa said he hadn't
had any corn for a fortnight."
This anecdote, so strikingly illustrative of the opulence of
milliners, was not received with any great demonstration of
feeling, inasmuch as Kate hung down her head while it was
relating, and Ralph manifested very intelligible symptoms of
extreme iinpatieficev
" Th&'iady's name," said Ralph, hastily striking in, "is
Mantalini — Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives near
Cavendish Square. If your daughter is disposed to try after
the situation, I'll take her there, directly."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
125
" Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love ? " in-
quired Mrs. Nickleby.
"A great deal," replied Kate; "but not now. I would
rather speak to him when we are alone ; — it will save his time
if I thank him and say what I wish to say to him, as we walk
along."
With these words, Kate hurried away, to hide the traces
of emotion that were stealing down her face, and to prepare
herself for the walk, while Mrs. Nickleby amused her brother-
in-law by giving him, with many tears, a detailed account of
the dimensions of a rosewood cabinet piano they had pos-
sessed in their days of affluence, together with a minute de-
scription of eight drawing-room chairs, with turned legs and
green chintz squabs to match the curtains, which had cost two
pounds fifteen shillings apiece, and had gone at the sale for
a mere nothing.
These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate's re-
turn in her walking dress, when Ralph, who had been fretting
and fuming during the whole time of her absence, lost no time,
and used very little ceremony, in descending into the street.
" Now," he said, taking her arm, " walk as fast as you can,
and you'll get into the step that you'll have to wallv.,t;9Jpji5i.ue§s.
with. e\^BTy-TrrOTTrtlir^r'''''"~^o^a^^^^^^^ at a good
round pace, towards Cavendish Square.
" I am very much obliged to you, uncle," said the young
lady, after they had hurried on in silence for some time ;
" very."
" I'm glad to hear it," said Ralph. " I hope you'll do
your duty."
"I will try to please, uncle," replied Kate: "indeed
I—"
" Don't bedn^to cry-," growled Ralph ; " I hate crying."
" ItTVerytooirsli,ilcnow, uncle;" began'poor Kate. "
"It is," replied Ralph, stopping her short, "and very
affected besides. Let me see no more of it."
Perhaps this was not the best way to dry the tears of a
young and sensitive female, about to make her first entry on
an entirely new scene of life, among cold and uninterested
strangers ; but it had its effect notwithstanding. Kate colored
deeply, breathed quickly for a few moments, and then
walked on with a firmer and more determined step.
It was a curious contrast to see how the timid countn,'- girl
shrunk through the crowd that hurried up and down the streets,
1 2 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
giving way to the press of people, and clinging closely to
Ralph as though she feared to lose him in the throng ; and
how the stern and hard-featured man of business went dog-
gedly on7eTbowing the passengers aside, and how and then ex-
changing a gruff salutation with some passing acquaintance,
who turned to look back upon his pretty charge, with looks ex-
pressive of surprise, and seemed to wonder at the ill-assorted
companionship. But, it would have been a stranger contrast
still, to have read the hearts that were beating side by side ;
to have laid bare the gentle innocence of the one, and the
ruggedLyjllainy of the other ; to have hung upon the guileless
thoughts oF"tlie affectionate girl, and been amazed that, among
all the wily plots and calculations of the old man, there should
not be one word or figure denoting thought of death or of the
grave. But so it was ; and stranger still — though this is a
thing of every day — the warm young heart palpitated with a
thousand anxieties and apprehensions, while that of the old
worldly man lay rusting in its cell, beating only as a piece of
cunning mechanism, and yielding no one throb of hope, or
fear, or love, or care, for any living thing.
" Uncle,'' said Kate, when she judged they must be near
their destination. " I must ask one question of you. I am
to live at home ? "
" At home ! " replied Ralph ; " where's that .' "
" I mean with my mother — Ihe widow" said Kate emphat-
ically.
"You will live, to all intents and purposes, here," rejoined
Ralph ; " for here you will take your meals and here }'ou will be
from morning till night — occasionally perhaps till morning
again."
"But at night, I mean," said Kate; " I cannot leave her,
uncle. I must have some place that I can call a home ; it
will be wherever she is, you know, and may be a very humble
one."
" May be ! " said Ralph, walking faster, in the impatience
provoked by the remark, " must be, you mean. May be a
humble one ! Is the girl mad ? "
" The word slijoped from my lips, I did not mean it in-
deed," urged Kate.
" I hope not," said Ralph.
" But my question, uncle ; you have not answered it."
" Why, [ anticipated something of the kind," said Ralph ;
" and — though I object very strongly, mind — have provided
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 127
against it. I spoke of you as an out-of-door worker ; so you
will go to this home that may be humble, every night."
There was comfort in this. Kate poured forth many
thanks for her uncle's consideration, which Ralph received as
if he had deserved them all, and they arri\ed without any
further conversation at the dress-maker's door, which dis-
played a very large plate, with Madame Alantalini's name
and occupation, and was approached by a handsome flight of
steps. There was a shop to the house, but it was let off to
an importer of otto of roses. Madame Mantalini's show-rooms
were on the first floor : a fact which was notified to the no-
bility and gentrv^, by the casual exhibition, near the hand-
somely curtained windows, of two or three elegant bonnets of
the newest fashion, and some costly garments in the most
approved taste.
A liveried footman opened the door, and in reply to
Ralph's inquiry' whether Madame Mantalini was at home,
ushered them, through a handsome hall and up a spacious
staircase, into the show saloon, which comprised two spacious
drawing-rooms, and exhibited an immense variety of superb
dresses and materials for dresses : some arranged on stands,
others laid carelessly on sofas, and others again, scattered
over the carpet, hanging on the cheval glasses, or mingling,
in some other way, with the rich furniture of various descrip-
tions, which was profusely displayed.
They waited here, a much longer time than was agreeable
to Mr. Ralph Nickleby, who eyed the gaudy frippery about
him with very little concern, and was at length about to pull
the bell, when a gentleman suddenly popped his head into
the room, and, seeing somebody there, as suddenly popped it
out again.
" Here. Hollo ! " cried Ralph. " Who's that t "
At the sound of Ralph's voice, the head reappeared, and
the mouth, displaying a veiy long row of very white teeth,
uttered in a mincing tone the words, " Demmit. What, Nick-
leby ! oh, demmit !" Having uttered which ejaculations, the
gentleman advanced, and shook hands with Ralph, with great
warmth. He was dressed in a gorgeous morning gown, with
a waistcoat and Turkish trousers of the same pattern, a pink
silk neckerchief, and bright green slippers, and had a \ ery
copious watch-chain wound round his body. Moreover, he
had whiskers and a moustache, both dyed black and grace-
fully curled.
128 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
*' Demmit, you don't mean to say you want me, do you,
demmit ? " said this gentleman, smiting Ralph on the
shoulder.
" Not yet," said Ralph, sarcastically.
" Ha ! ha ! demmit," cried the gentleman ; when, wheeling
round to laugh with greater elegance, he encountered Kate
Nickleby, who was standing near.
" My niece," said Ralph.
" I remember," said the gentleman, striking his nose with
the knuckle of his forefinger as a chastening for his forgetful-
ness. " Demmit, I remember what you come for. Step this
way, Nickleby ; my dear, will you follow me .-' Ha ! ha !
They all follow me, Nickleby ; always did, demmit, always."
Giving loose to the playfulness of his imagination, after
this fashion, the gentleman led the way to a private sitting-
room on the second floor, scarcely less elegantly furnished
than the apartment below, where the presence of a silver
coffee-pot, an egg-shell, and sloppy china for one, seemed to
show that he had just breakfasted.
" Sit down, my dear," said the gentleman : first staring
Miss Nickleby out of countenance, and then grinning in
de-light at the achievement. "This cursed high room takes
one's breath away. These infernal sky parlors — I'm afraid I
must move, Nickleby."
" I would, by all means," replied Ralph, looking bitterly
round.
" What a demd rum fellow you are, Nickleby," said the
gentleman, " the demdest, longest-headed, queerest-tempered
old coiner of gold and silver ever was — demmit."
Having complimented Ralph to this effect, the gentleman
rang the bell, and stared at Miss Nickleby until it was
answered, when he left off to bid the man desire his mistress
to come directly ; after which, he began again, and left off no
more until Madame Mantalini appeared.
Tlie dress-maker was a buxom person, handsomely dressed
and rather good looking, but much older than the gentleman
in the Turkish trousers, whom she had w-edded some six
months before. His name was originally Muntle ; but it had
been converted, by an easy transition, into Mantalini : the
lady rightly considering that an English appellation would be
of serious injury to the business. He hatl married on his
whiskers ; upon which property he had previously subsisted,
in a genteel manner, for some years ; and which he had re-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
129
cently improved, after patient cultivation, by the addition of a
moustache, which promised to secure him an easy independ-
ence ; his share in the labors of the business being at present
confined to spending the money, and occasionally, when that
ran short, driving to Mr. Ralph Nickleby to procure discount
— at a percentage — for the customers' bills.
" My life," said Mr. Mantalini, ' what a demd devil of a
time you have been ! "
" I didn't even know Mr. Nickleby was here, my love,"
said Madame Mantalini.
" Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman
must be, my soul," remonstrated Mr. Mantalini.
'■ My dear," said Madame, " that is entirely your fault."
" My fault, my heart's joy ? "
"Certainly," returned the lady; "what can you expect,
dearest, if you will not correct the man .? "
" Correct the man, my soul's delight ! "
" Yes ; I am sure he wants speaking to, badly enough,"
said Madame, pouting.
"Then do not vex itself," said Mr. Mantalini ; "he shall
be horse-whipped till he cries out demnebly." With this
promise Mr. Mantalini kissed Madame Mantalini, and, after
that performance, Madame Mantalini pulled Mr. Mantalini
playfully by the ear: which done, they descended to busi-
ness.
" Now, ma'am," said Ralph, who had looked on, at all
this, with such scorn as few men can express in looks, " this
is my niece."
"Just so, Mr. Nickleby," replied Madame Mantalini, sur-
veying Kate from head to foot, and back again. " Can you
speak French, child 1 "
"Yes, ma'am," replied Kate, not daring to look up; for
she felt that the eyes of the odious man in the dressing-gown
were directed towards her.
" Like a demd native ? " asked the husband.
Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned
her back upon the questioner, as if addressing herself to make
answer to what his wife might demand.
"We keep twenty young women constantly employed in
the establishment," said Madame.
" Indeed, ma'am ! " replied Kate, timidly.
" Yes ; and some of 'em demd handsome, too," said the
master.
9
I20 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Mantalini ! " exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.
*'My senses' idol !" said Mantalini.
*' Do you wish to break my heart ? "
" Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with —
with — with little ballet-dancers," replied Mantalini in a poeti-
cal strain.
" Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speak-
ing," said his wife. " What can Mr. Nickleby think when he
hears you ? "
"Oh! Nothing, ma'am, nothing," replied Ralph. "I
know his amiable nature, and yours, — mere little remarks
that give a zest to your daily intercourse — lovers' quarrels
that add sweetness to those domestic joys which promise to
last so long — that's all ; that's all."
If an iron door could be supposed to quarrel with its
hinges, and to make a firm resolution to open with slow obsti-
nacy, and grind them to powder in the process, it would emit
a pleasanter sound in so doing, then did these words in the
rough and bitter voice in which they were uttered by Ralph.
Eveii Mr. Mantalini felt their influence, and turning affright-
ed round, exclaimed : " What a demd horrid croaking ! "
" You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr.
Mantalini says," observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby.
"I do not, ma'am," said Kate, with quiet contempt.
" Mr. Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the
young women," continued Madame, looking at her husband,
and speaking to Kate. " If he has seen any of them, he must
have seen them in the street, going to, or returning from, their
work, and not here. He was never even in the room. I do
not allow it. What hours of work have you been accustomed
to?"
" I have never yet been accustomed to work at all, ma'am,"
replied Kate, in a low voice.
" For which reason she'll work all the better now," said
Ralph, putting in a word, lest this confession should injure the
negotiation.
" I hope so," returned Madame Mantalini ; " our hours
are from nine to nine, with extra work when we're very full of
business, for which I allow payment as over-time."
Kate bowed her head, to intimate that she heard, and was
satisfied.
"Your meals," continued Madame Mantalini, "that is,
dinner and tea, you will take here. I should think your-wages
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 131
would average from five to seven shillings a week ; but I can't
give you any certain information on that point, until I see
what you can do."
Kate bowed her head again.
" If you're ready to come," said Madame Mantalini, " you
had better begin on Monday morning at nine exactly, and
Miss Knag the forewoman shall then have directions to try
you with some easy work at first. Is there anything more,
Mr. Nickleby t "
" Nothing more, ma'am," replied Ralph, rising.
" Then I believe that's all," said the lady. Having arrived
at this natural conclusion, she looked at the door, as if she
wished to be gone, but hesitated notwithstanding, as though
unwillinGf to leave to Mr. Mantalini the sole honor of showing
them down stairs. Ralph relieved her from her perplexity by
taking his departure without delay : Madame Mantalini mak-
ing many gracious inquiries why he never came to see them ;
and Mr. Mantalini anathematizing the stairs with great volu-
bility as he followed them down, in the hope of inducing
Kate to look round, — a hope, however, which was destined to
remain ungratified.
"There!" said Ralph when they got into the street;
" now, yQu're provided for." Kate was about to thank him
agam, but he slopped her.
" I had some idea," he said, " of providing for your mother
in a pleasant part of the country — (he had a presentation to
some alms-houses on the borders of Cornwall, which had
occurred to him more than once) — but as you want to be to-
gether, I must do something else for her. She has a little
money ? "
"A very little," replied Kate.
" A little will go a long way if it's used sparingly," said
Ralph. " She must see how long she can make it last, living
rent free. You leave your lodgings on Saturday ? "
" You told us to do so, uncle."
" Yes ; there is a house empty 1;hatbelQn2-s to me, which
I can put you into, frtTTt isTet, and then, if nothing else turns
up, perhaps I shall have another. You must live there."
" Is it far from here, sir ? " inquired Kate.
"Pretty well," said Ralph; "in another quarter of the
town — at the East end, but I'll send my clerk down to you, at
five o'clock on Saturday, to take you there. Good-by. You
know your way? Straighten."
1,2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Coldly shaking his niece's hand, Ralph left her at the top
of Regent Street, and turned down a by-thoroughfare, intent
on schemes of monev:getting. Kate walked sadly back to
theirJo agings in tne Strand.
•4
CHAPTER XI.
NEWMAN NOGGS INDUCTS MRS. AND MISS NICKLEBY INTO
THEIR NEW DWELLING IN THE CITY,
Miss Nickleby's reflections, as she wended her way home-
wards, were of that desponding nature which the occurrences
of the morning had been sufficiently calculated to awaken.
Her uncle's was not a manner likely to dispel any doubts or
apprehensions she might have formed, in the outset, neither
was the glimpse she had had of Madame Mantalini's establish-
ment, by any means encouraging. It was with many gloomy
forebodings and misgivings, therefore, that she looked for-
ward, with a heavy heart, to the opening of her new career.
If her mother's consolations could have restored her to a
pleasanter and more enviable state of mind, there were abun-
dance of them to produce the effect. By the time Kate
reached home, the good lady had called to mind, two authentic
cases of milliners who had been possessed of considerable
property, though whether they had acquired it all in business,
or had had a capital to start with, or had been lucky and mar-
ried to advantage, she could not exactly remember. How-
ever, as she very logically remarked, there must have been
some young person in that way of business who had made a
fortune without having anything to begin with, and that being
taken for granted, why should not Kate do the same ? Miss
La Creevy, who was a member of the little council, ventured
to insinuate some doubts relative to the probability of Miss
Nickleby's arriving at this happy consummation in the com-
pass of an ordinar}' lifetime ; but the good lady set that ques-
tion entirely at rest, by informing them that she had a pre-
sentiment on the subject — a species of second-sight with which
she had been in the habit of clenching every argument with
the deceased Mr. Nickleby, and, in nine cases and three quar-
ters out of every ten, determining in the wrong way.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
^ZZ
" I am afraid it is an unhealthy occupation," said Miss La
Creevy. " I recollect getting three young milliners to sit to
me, when I first began to paint, and I remember that they
were all very pale and sickly."
" Oh ! that's not a general rule by any means," observed
Mrs. Nickleby ; " for I remember, as well as if it was only
yesterday, employing one that I was particularly recom-
mended to, to make me a scarlet cloak at the time when scar-
let cloaks were fashionable, and she had a very red face — a-
very red face, indeed."
" Perhaps she drank," suggested Miss La Creevy.
" I don't know how that may have been," returned Mrs.
Nickleby : " but I know she had a very red face, so your argu-
ment goes for nothing."
In this manner, and with like powerful reasoning, did the
worthy matron meet every little objection that presented itself
to the new scheme of the morning. Happy Mrs. Nickleby !
A project had but to be new, and it came home to her mind,
brightly varnished and gilded as a glittering toy.
This question disposed of, Kate communicated her uncle's
desire about the empty house, to which Mrs. Nickleby assented
with equal readiness, characteristically remarking, that, on the
fine evenings, it would be a pleasant amusement for her to walk
to the West end to fetch her daughter home ; and no less
characteristically forgetting, that there were such things as
wet nights and bad weather to be encountered in almost every
week of the year.
" I shall be sorry — truly sorr}' to leave you, my kind friend,"
said Kate, on whom the good feeling of the poor miniature-
painter had made a deep impression.
" You shall not shake me off, for all that," replied Miss La
Creevy, with as much spiightliness as she could assume. " I
shall see you very often, and come and hear how you get on ;
and if, in all London, or all the wide world besides, there is no
other heart that takes an interest in your welfare, there will
be one little lonely woman that prays for it night and day."
With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for
Gog, the guardian genius of London, and enough to spare for
Magog to boot, after making a great many extraordinary faces
which would have secured her an ample fortune, could she
have transferred them to ivo^ or canvass, sat down in a cor-
ner, and had what she termed " a real good cr}-."
But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep
134
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
off the dreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either ;
who, punctual to his time, Hmped up to the door, and breathed
a whiff of cordial gin through the keyhole, exactly as such of
the church clocks in the ncicihborhood as ag^reed amonc: them-
selves about the time, struck fiv'e. Newman waited for the
last stroke, and then knocked.
" From Mr. Ralph Nickleby," said Newman, announcing
his errand, when he got up stairs, with all possible brevity.
"We shall be ready directly," said Kate. "We have not
much to carry, but I fear we must have a coach."
" I'll get one," replied Newman.
" Indeed you shall not trouble yourself," said Mrs.
Nickleby.
" I will," said Newman.
" I can't suffer you to think of such a thing," said Mrs.
Nickleby.
" You can't help it," said Newman.
"Not help it!"
" No ; I thought of it as I came along ; but didn't get one,
thinking you mightn't be ready. I think of a great many
things. Nobody can prevent that."
" O yes, I understand you, Mr. Noggs," said Mrs. Nickle-
by. " Our thoughts are free, of course. Everybody's thoughts
are their own, clearly."
"They wouldn't be, if some people had their way," mut-
tered Newman.
" Well, no more they would, Mr. Noggs, and that's very
true," rejoined Mrs. Nickleby. " Some people to be sure are
such — how's your master ? "
Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate, and replied
with a strong emphasis on the last word of his answer, that
Mr. Ralph Nickleby was well, and sent his love.
" I am sure we are very much obliged to him," observed
Mrs. Nickleby.
" Very," said Newman. " I'll tell him so."
It was no ver}' easy matter to mistake Newman Noggs,
after having once seen him, and as Kate, attracted by the
singularity of his manner (in which on this occasion, however,
there was something respectful and even delicate, notwith-
standing the abruptness of his speech), looked at him more
r'osely, she recollected having caught a passing glimpse of
that strange figure before.
"Excuse my curiosity," she said, "but did I not see you in
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 135
the coachyard, on the morning my brother went away to York-
shire ? "
Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs. Nickleby, and said
"No," most unblushingly.
" No ! " exclaimed Kate, " I should have said so any-
where."
" You'd have said wrong," rejoined Newman. " It's the
first time I've been out for three weeks. I've had the gout."
Newman was ver)% very far from having the appearance of
a gouty subject, and so Kate could not help thinking ; but the
conference was cut short by Mrs. Nickleby's insisting on hav-
ing the door shut, lest Mr. Noggs should take cold, and further
persisting in sending the servant girl for a coach, for fear he
should bring on another attack of his disorder. To both con-
ditions, Newman was compelled to yield. Presently, the coach
came ; and, after many sorrowful farewells, and a great deal
of running backwards and forwards across the pavement on
the part of Miss La Creevy, in the course of which the yellow
turban came into violent contact with sundry foot passengers,
it (that is to say the coach, not the turban) went away again,
with the two ladies and their luggage inside ; and Newman,
despite all Mrs. Nickleby's assurances that it would be his
death — on the box beside the driver.
They went into the City, turning down by the river side ;
and, after a long and very slow drive, the streets being crowded
at that hour with vehicles of every kind, stopped in front of a
large old dingy house in Thames Street : the door and windows
of which we're so bespattered with mud, that it would have
appeared to have been uninhabited for years.
The door of this deserted mansion Newman opened with
a key which he took out of his hat — in which, by the bye, in
consequence of the dilapidated state of his pockets, he de-
posited ever>'thing, and would most likely have carried his
money if he had had any — and the coach being discharged,
he led the way into the interior of the mansion.
Old, and gloomy, and black, in truth it was, and sullen and
dark were the rooms, once so bustling with life and enterprise.
There was a wharf behind, opening on the Thames. An
empty dog-kennel, some bones of animals, fragments of iron
hoops, and staves of old casks, lay strewn about, but no life
was stirring there. It was a picture of cold, silent decay.
" This house depresses and chills one," said Kate, '• and
seems as if some blight had fallen on it. If I were supersti-
136 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
tious, I should be almost inclined to believe that some dread-
ful crime had been perpetrated within these old walls, and
that the place had never prospered since. How frowning and
how dark it looks ! "
" Lord, my dear," replied Mrs. Nickleby, " don't talk in
that way, or you'll frighten me to death."
" It is only my foolish fancy, mama," said Kate, forcing a
smile.
" Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish
fancy to yourself, and not wake up my foolish fancy to keep
it company," retorted Mrs. Nickleby. " Why didn't you think
of all this before — you are so careless — we might have asked
Miss La Creevy to keep us company or borrowed a dog, or a
thousand things — but it always was the way, and was just the
same with your poor dear father. Unless I thought of every-
thing " This was Mrs. Nickleby's usual commencement of
a general lamentation, running through a dozen or so of com-
plicated sentences addressed to nobody in particular, and into
which she now launched until her breath was exhausted.
Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but preceded
them to a couple of rooms on the first floor, which some kind
of attempt had been made to render habitable. In one, were
a few chairs, a table, an old hearth-rug, and some faded baize ;
and a fire was ready laid in the grate. In the other, stood an
old tent bedstead, and a few scanty articles of chamber furni-
ture.
"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby, trying to be pleased,
" now isn't this thoughtful and considerate of your uncle ?
Why, we should not have had anything but the bed we bought
yesterday, to lie down upon, if it hadn't been for his thought-
fulness ! "
" Veiy kind, indeed," replied Kate, looking round.
Newman Noggs did not say that he had hunted up the old
furniture they saw, from attic and celler ; or that he had taken
in the halfpenny-worth of milk for tea that stood upon a
shelf, or filled the rusty kettle on the hob, or collected the
wood chips from the wharf, or begged the coals. But the no-
tion of Ralph Nickleby having directed it to be done, tickled
his fancy so much, that he could not refrain from cracking all
his ten fingers in succession ; at which performance Mrs.
Nickleby was rather startled at first, but supposing it to be in
some remote manner connected with the gout, did not remark
upon.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 137
" We need detain you no longer, I think," said Kate.
" Is there nothing 1 can do ? " asked Newman.
" Nothing, thank you," rejoined Miss Nickleb3\
"Perhaps, my dear, Mr. Noggs would like to drink our
healths," said Mrs. Nickleby, fumbling in her reticule for
some small coin.
" I think, mama," said Kate, hesitating and remarking
Newman's averted face, " you would hurt his feelings if you
offered it."
Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like a
gentleman than the miserable wretch he seemed, placed his
hand upon his breast, and, pausing for a moment, with the air
of a man who struggles to speak but is uncertain what to say,
quitted the room.
As the jarring echoes of the heavy house-door, closing on
its latch, reverberated dismally through the building, Kate felt
half tempted to call him back, and beg him to remain a little
while ; but she was ashamed to own her fears, and Newman
Noggs was on his way homewards.
CHAPTER XII.
WHEREBY THE READER WILL BE ENABLED TO TRACE THE
FURTHER COURSE OF MISS FANNY SQUEERS'S LOVE, AND
TO ASCERTAIN WHETHER IT RAN SMOOTH OR OTHERWISE.
It was 5 fortunate circumstance for Miss Fanny Squeers
that when her worthy papa returned home on the night of the
small tea-party, he was what the initiated term " too far gone "
to observe the numerous tokens of extreme vexation of spirit
which were plainly visible in her countenance. Being, how-
ever, of a rather violent and quarrelsome mood in his cups, it
is not impossible that he might have fallen out with her, either
on this or some imaginary topic, if the young lady had not,
with a foresight and prudence highly commendable, kept a
boy up, on purpose, to bear the first brunt of the good gentle-
man's anger; which, having vented itself in a variety of kicks
and cuffs, subsided sufficiently to admit of his being per-
suaded to go to bed. Which he did with his boots on, and an
umbrella under his arm.
I3S
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
The hungry serv^ant attended Miss Squeers in her own
room according to custom, to curl her hair, perform the other
little offices of her toilet, and administer as much flattery as
she could get up, for the purpose \ for Miss Squeers was quite
lazy enough (and sufficiently vain and frivolous withal) to
have been a fine lady ; and it was only the arbitrary distinctions
of rank and station which prevented her from being one.
" How lovely your hair do curl to-night, miss ! " said the
handmaiden. " I declare if it isn't a pity and a shame to
brush it out ! "
" Hold your tongue ! " replied Miss Squeers, wrathfully.
Some considerable experience prevented the girl from be-
ing at all surprised at any outbreak of ill-temper on the part
of Miss Squeers. Having a half preception of what had oc-
curred in the course of the evening, she changed her mode of
making herself agreeable, and proceeded on the indirect tack.
" Well, I couldn't help saying, miss, if you was to kill me
for it," said the attendant, "that I never see nobody look so
vulgar as Miss Price this night."
Miss Squeers sighed, and composed herself to listen.
*^" I know it's very wrong in me to say so, miss," continued
the girl, delighted to see the impression" she was making,
*' Miss Price being a friend of your'n, and all ; but she do 7
dress herself out so, and go on in such a manner to get no-
ticed, that — oh — well, if people only saw themselves ! 'T""
^"What do you mean, Phib ? " a<;].-pd_Mjt;q Sg^i^^pr'^ ^r^r.LM1■.fr
iQj:tr own little glass, where, like most of uSiXhe._sa\it=-not
herself, but the reflection of some pleasant image in her own
brain. " How you talk ! " ^
"Talk, miss ! It's enough to make a Tom cat talk French
grammar, only to see how she tosses her head," replied the
handmaid.
" She does toss her head," observed Miss Squeers, with an
air of abstraction.
" So vain, and so very — very plain," said the girl.
" Poor 'Tilda ! " sighed Miss Squeers, compassionately.
" And always laying herself out so, to get to be admired,"
pursued the servant. "Oh, dear! It's positive indelicate."
" I can't al'ow you to talk in that way, Phib," said Miss
Squeers. " Tilda's friends are low people, and if she don't
know any better, it's their fault, and not hers."
" Well, but you know, miss," said Phoebe, for which name
" Phib " was used as a patronizing abbreviation, " if she was
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
139
only to take copy by a friend — oh ! if she only knew how
wrong she was, and would but set herself right by you, what a
nice young woman she might be in time ! "
"Phib," rejoined Miss Squeers, with a stately air, "it's
not proper for me to hear these comparisons drawn ; they
make 'I'ilda look a coarse improper sort of person, and it
seems unfriendly in me to listen to them. I would rather you
dropped the subject, Phib ; at the same time, I must say, that
if 'Tilda Price would take pattern by somebody — not me par-
ticularly "
" O yes ; you, miss," interposed Phib.
" Well, me, Phib, if you will have it so," said Miss Squeers.
" I must say, that if she would, she would be all the better for
it."
" So somebody else thinks, or I am much mistaken," said
the girl mysteriously.
"What do you mean t " demanded Miss Squeers.
"Never mind, miss," replied the girl; "/ know what I
know ; that's all."
" Phib," said Miss Squeers dramatically, " I insist upon
your explaining yourself. What is this dark mystery .■' Speak."
" Why, if you will have it, miss, it's this," said the servant
girl. " Mr. John Browdie thinks as you think ; and if he
wasn't too far gone to do it creditable, he'd be very glad to be
off with Miss Price, and on with Miss Squeers."
"Gracious Heavens !" exclaimed Miss Squeers, clasping
her hands with great dignity. " What is this } "
"Truth, ma'am, and nothing but truth," replied the artful
Phib.
" What a situation ! " cried Miss Squeers ; " on the brink
of unconsciously destroying the peace and happiness of my
own 'Tilda. What is the reason that men fall in love with
me, whether I like it or not, and desert their chosen intendeds
for my sake I "
" Because they can't help it, miss," replied the girl ; " the
reason's plain." (If Miss Squeers were the reason, it was
very plain.)
" Never let me hear of it again," retorted Miss Squeers.
" Never ! Do you hear ? 'Tilda Price has faults — many
faults — but I wish her well, and above all I wish her married ;
for I think it highly desirable — most desirable from the very
nature of her failings — that she should be married as soon as
possible. No, Phib. Let her have Mr. Browdie. I may pity
I40 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
hvn, poor fellow : but I have a great regard for 'Tilda, and
only hope she may make a better wife than I think she will."
With this effusion of feeling, Miss Squeers went to bed.
Spite is a little word ; but it represents as strange a jumble
of feelings, and compound of discords, as any polysyllable in
the language. Miss Squeers knew as well in her heart of
hearts, that what the miserable serving girl had said was sheer,
coarse, lying flattery, as did the girl herself ; yet the mere
opportunity of venting a little ill-nature against the offending
Miss Price, and affecting to compassionate her weaknesses
and foibles, though only in the presence of a solitary depen-
dant, was almost as great a relief to her spleen as if the whole
had been gospel truth. Nay, more. We have such extraor-
dinary powers of persuasion when they are exerted over our-
selves, that Miss Squeers felt quite high-minded and great
after her noble renunciation of John Browdie's hand, and
looked down upon her rival with a kind of holy calmness and
tranquillity, that had a mighty effect in soothing her ruffled
feelino^s.
This happy state of mind had some influence in bringing
about a reconciliation ; for, when a knock came at the front
door next day, and the miller's daughter was announced, Miss
Squeers betook herself to the parlor in a Christian frame of
spirit, perfectly beautiful to behold.
" Well, Fanny," said the miller's daughter, " you see I
have come to see you, although we had some words last
night."
" I pity your bad passions, 'Tilda," replied Miss Squeers ;
" but I bear no malice. I am above it."
" Don't be cross, Fanny," said Miss Price. " I have come
to tell you something that I know will please you."
" What may that be, 'Tilda ? " demanded Miss Squeers ;
screwing up her lips, and looking as if nothing in earth, air,
fire, or water, could afford her the slightest gleam of satisfac-
tion.
" This," rejoined Miss Price. " After we left here last
night, John and I had a dreadful quarrel."
" That doesn't please me," said Miss Squeers — relaxing
into a smile though.
" Lor ! I wouldn't think so bad of you as to suppose it
it did," rejoined her companion. "That's not it."
" Oh ! " said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy.
" Go on."
NICHOLAS NrCKLEBY. 141
After a great deal of wrangling, and saying we would
never see each other any more," continued Miss Price, "we
made it up, and this morning John went and wrote our names
down to be put up, for the first time, next Sunday, so we shall
be married in three weeks, and I give you notice to get your
frock made."
There was mingled gall and honey in this intelligence.
The prospect of the friend's being married so soon, was the
gall, and the certainty of her not entertaining serious designs
upon Nicholas was the honey. Upon the whole, the sweet
greatly preponderated over the bitter, so Miss Squeers said
she would get the frock made, and that she hoped 'Tilda might
be happy, though at the same time she didn't know, and would
not have her build too much upon it, for men were strange
creatures, and a great many married women were very miser-
able, and wished themselves single again with all their hearts ;
to which condolences Miss Squeers added others equally cal-
culated to raise her friend's spirits and promote her cheerful-
ness of mind.
" But come now, Fanny," said Miss Price. " I want to
have a word or two with you about young Mr. Nickleby."
" He is nothing to me," interrupted Miss Squeers, with
hysterical symptoms. " I despise him too much 1 "
" Oh, you don't mean that, I am sure ? " replied her friend.
"Confess, Fanny; don't you like him now?"
Without returning any direct reply. Miss Squeers, all at
once, fell into a paroxysm of spiteful tears, and exclaimed that
she was a wretched, neglected, miserable, castaway.
" I hate everybody," said Miss Squeers, "and I wish that
everybody was dead — that I do."
"Dear, dear," said Miss Price, quite moved by this avowal
of misanthropical sentiments. "You are not serious, I am
sure."
"Yes, I am," rejoined Miss Squeers, tying tight knots in
her pocket-handkerchief, and clenching her teeth. " And I
wish /was dead too. There ! "
" Oh ! you'll think very differently in another five min-
utes," said Matilda. " How much better to take him into
favor again, than to hurt yourself by going on in that way.
Wouldn't it be much nicer, now, to have him all to yourself
on good terms, in a company-keeping, love-making, pleasant
sort of manner .'"'
" I don't know but what it wOuld," sobbed Miss Squeers.
142
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Oh ! 'Tilda how could j^ou have acted so mean and dis-
honorable ! I wouldn't have believed it of you, if anybody
had told me."
" Heyday ! " exclaimed Miss Price, giggling. " One would
suppose I had been murdering somebody at least."
" Very nigh as bad," said Miss Squeers passionately.
" And all this, because I happen to have enough of good
looks to make people civil to me," cried Miss Price. " Persons
don't make their own faces, and it's no more my fault if mine
is a good one than it is other people's fault if theirs is a bad
one."
" Hold your tongue," shrieked Miss Squeers, in her
shrillest tone ; "or you'll make me slap you, 'Tilda, and after-
wards I should be sorry for it ! "
It is needless to say, that, by this time, the temper of each
young lady was in some slight degree affected by the tone of
her conversation, and that a dash of personality was infused
into the altercation, in consequence. Ind^d, the quarrel,
from slight beginnings, rose to a considerable height, and was
assuming a very violent complexion, when both parties, fall-
ing into a great passion of tears, exclaimed simultaneously,
that they had never thought of being spoken to in that way :
which explanation, leading to a remonstrance, gradually
brought on an explanation ; and the upshot was, that they fell
into each other's arms and vowed eternal friendship ; the
oocasion in question, making the fifty-second time of repeating
the same impressive ceremony within a twelvemonth.
Perfect amicability being thus restored, a dialogue natur-
ally ensued upon the number and nature of the garments
which would be indispensable for Miss Price's entrance into
the holy state of matrimony, when Miss Squeers clearly showed
that a great many more than the miller could, or would,
afford, were absolutely necessar)', and could not decently be
dispensed with. The young lady then, by an easy digression,
led the discourse to her own wardrobe, and after recounting
its principal beauties, at some length, took her friend up stairs
to make inspection thereof. The treasures of two drawers
and a closet having been displayed, and all the smaller articles
tried on, it was time for Miss Price to return home ; and as
she had been in raptures with all the frocks, and had been
stiicken quite dumb with admiration of a new pink scarf, Miss
Squeers said in high good humor, that she would walk part of
the way with her, for the pleasure of her company 3 and ofE
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
143
they went together : Miss Squeers dilating, as they walked
along, upon her father's accomplishments, and multiplying
his income by ten, to give her friend some faint notion of the
vast importance and superiority cf her family.
It happened that that particular time, comprising the short
daily interval which was suffered to ela]Dse between what was
pleasantly called the dinner, of Mr. Squeers's pupils, and their
return to the pursuit of useful knowledge, was precisely the
hour when Nicholas was accustomed to issue forth for a
melancholy walk, and to brood, as he sauntered listlessly
through the village, upon his miserable lot. Miss Squeers
knew this, perfectly well, but had perhaps forgotten it, for
when she caught sight of that young gentleman advancing to-
wards them, she evinced many symptoms of surprise and con-
sternation, and assured her friend that she " felt fit to drop
into the earth."
" Shall we turn back, or run into a cottage ? " asked Miss
Price. " He don't see us yet."
" No, 'Tilda," replied Miss Squeers, " it is my duty to go
through with it, and i will ! "
As Miss Squeers said this, in the tone of one who has
made a high moral resolution, and was, besides, taken with
one or two chokes and catchings of breath, indicative of feel-
ings at a high pressure, her friend made no farther remark,
and they bore straight down upon Nicholas, who, walking with
his eyes bent upon the ground, was not aware of their approach
until they were close upon him, otherwise he might, perhaps,
have taken shelter himself.
"Good-morning," said Nicholas, bowing and passing by.
" He is going," murmured Miss Squeers. " I shall choke,
'Tilda."
" Come back, Mr. Nickleby, do ! " cried Miss Price, affect-
ing alarm at her friend's threat, but really actuated by a mali-
cious wish to hear what Nicholas would say ; " come back,
Mr. Nickleby ! "
Mr. Nickleby came back, and looked as confused as might
be, as he inquired whether the ladies had any commands for
him.
" Don't stop to talk," urged Miss Price, hastily, " but sup-
port her on the other side. How do you feel now, dear ? "
" Better," sighed Miss Squeers, laying a beaver bonnet of
a reddish brown with a green veil attached, on Mr. Nickleby's
shoulder. " This foolish faintness ! "
144 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
"Don't call it foolish, dear," said Miss Price, her bright
eye dancing with merriment as she saw the perplexity of
Nicholas; "you have no reason to be ashamed of it. It's
those who are too proud to come round again, without all this
to-do, that ought to be ashamed."
" You are resolved to fix it upon me, I see," said Nicholas,
smiling, " although I told you, last night, it was not my fault."
" There ; he says it was not his fault, my dear," remarked
the wicked Miss Price. " Perhaps you were too jealous, or
too hasty with him ? He says it was not his fault. You hear ;
I think that's apology enough."
"You will not understand me," said Nicholas. "Pray
dispense with this jesting, for I have no time, and really no
inclination, to be the subject or promoter of mirth just now."
" What do you mean ? " asked Miss Price, affecting amaze-
ment.
" Don't ask him, 'Tilda," cried Miss Squeers ; " I forgive
him."
" Dear me," said Nicholas, as the brown bonnet went down
on his shoulder again, " this is more serious than I supposed.
Allow me ! Will you have the goodness to hear me speak ? "
Here he raised up the brown bonnet, and regarding with^
most unfeigned astonishment a look of tender reproach from
Miss Squeers, shrunk back a few paces to be out of the reach
of the fair burden, and went on to say :
" I am very sorry — truly and sincerely sorry — for having
been the cause of any difference among you, last night. I
reproach myself, most bitterly, for having been so unfortunate
as to cause the dissension that occurred, although I did so, I
assure you, most unwittingly and heedlessly."
" Well ; that's not all you have got to say surely," ex-
claimed Miss Price as Nicholas paused.
" I fear there is something more," stammered Nicholas
with a half smile, and looking towards Miss Squeers, "it is a
most awkward thing to say — but — the — very mention of such
a supposition makes one look like a pupjjy — still — may I ask
if that lady supposes that I entertain any — in short, does she
think that I am in love with her ? "
"Delightful embarrassment," thought Miss Squeers,"!
have brought him to it, at last. Answer for me, dear," she
whispered to her friend.
" Does she think so .' " rejoined Miss Price ; " of course
she does."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^1457
She does ! " exclaimed Nicholas with such energy of
utterance as might have been, for the moment, mistaken for
rapture.
" Certainly," replied Miss Price.
" If Mr. Nickleby has doubted that, 'Tilda," said the
blushing Miss Squeers in soft accents, "he may set his mind
at rest. His sentiments are recipro — "
" Stop," cried Nicholas hurriedly ; "pray hear me. This
is the grossest and wildest delusion, the completest and most
signal mistake, that ever human being labored under, cr ccm-
miited. I have scarcelv seen the young lady half a dozen
times, but if I had seen her sixty times, or am destined to see
her sixty thousand, it would be, and will be, precisely the
same. I have not one thought, wish or hope, connected with
her, unless it be— ;and I say this, not to hurt her_ feelings, but to
impress her with tlie real staTe~of my own — unless^it' be the
one object, dear to my heart as life itself, of being one day
a,bl_e to turn my back upon this accursed place, never to set
foot in it again, or think of it — even think of it — but with
loathing and disgust."
With this particularly plain and straight-forward declara-
tion, which he made with all the vehemence that his indignant
and excited feelings could bring to bear upon it, Nicholas,
waiting to hear no more, retreated.
But poor Miss Squeers ! Her anger, rage, and vexation ;
the rapid succession of bitter and passionate feelings that
whirled through her mind ; are not to be described. Refused !
refused by a teacher, picked up by advertisement, at an annual
salary of five pounds payable at indefinite periods, and " found "
in food and lodging like the very boys themselves ; and this
too in the presence of a little chit of a miller's daughter of
eighteen, who was going to be married, in three weeks' time,
to a man who had gone down on his very knees to ask ! She
could have choked in right good earnest, at the thought of
being so humbled.
But there was one thing clear in the midst of her mortifi-
cation ; and that was, that she hated and detested Nicholas
with all the narrowness of mind and littleness of purpose
worthy a descendant of the house of Squeers. And there was
one comfort too ; and that was, that every hour in every day
she could wound his pride, and goad him with the infliction
of some slight, or insult, or deprivation, which could not but
have some effect on the most insensible person, and must be
10
146 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
acutely felt by one so sensitive as Nicholas. With these two
reflections uppermost in her mind, Miss Squeers made the
best of the matter to her friend, by observing that Mr. Nickleby
was such an odd creature, and of such a violent temper, that
she feared that she should be obliged to give him up ; and
parted from her.
And here it may be remarked, that Miss Squeers, having
bestowed her affections (or whatever it might be that, in the
absence of anything better, represented them) on Nicholas
Nickleby, had never once seriously contemplated the possi-
bility of his being of a different opinion from herself in the
business. Miss Squeers reasoned that she was prepossessing
and beautiful, and that her father was master, and Nicholas
man, and that her father had saved money, and Nicholas had
none, all of which seemed to her conclusive arguments why
the young ijoap should feel only too much honored by her
preference. | She had not failed to recollect, either, how much
more agreeable she could render his situation if she were his
friend, and how much more disagreeable if she were his enemy ;
and, doubtless, many less scrupulous young gentlemen than
Nicholas would have encouraged her extravagance had it been
only for this very obvious and intelligible reason. However,
he had thought proper to do otherwise, and Miss Squeers was
outrageouai
"Let me see," said the irritated young lady, when she had
regained her own room, and eased her mind by committing
an assault on Phib, " if I don't set mother against him a
little more when she comes back ! "
It was scarcely necessary to do this, but Miss Squeers was
as good as her word ; and poor Nicholas, in addition to bad
foo:l, dirty lodging, and the being compelled to w-itness one
dull unvarying round of squalid misery, was treated with
every special indignity that malice could suggest, or the most
grasping cupidity put upon him.
Nor was this all. lliere was another and deeper system
of annoyance which made his heart sink, and nearly drove
him wild, by its injustice and cruelty.
T.ie wretched creature, Smike, since the night Nicholas
had spoken kindly to him in the school-room, had followed
him to and fro, with an ever restless desire to serve or help
him ; anticipating such little wants as his humble ability could
supply, and content only to be near him. He would sit be-
side him for hours, looking patiently into his face ; and a
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
»47
word would brighten up his care-worn visage, and call into it
a passing gleam, even of happiness. He was an altered being ;
he had an object now ; and that object was, to show hi;i at-
tachment to the only person — that person a stranger — who
had treated him, not to say with kindness, but like a human
creature.
Upon this poor being, all the spleen and ill-humor that
could not be vented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed.
Drudgery would have been nothing — Smike was well used to
that, Buffetings inflicted without cause, would have been
equally a matter of course ; for to them also, he had served a
long and weary apprenticeship ; but it was no sooner observed
that he had become attached to Nicholas, than stripes and
blows, stripes and blows, morning, noon, and night, were his
only portion. Squeers was jealous of the influence which his
man had so soon acquired, and his family hated him, and
Smike paid for both. Nicholas saw it, and ground his teeth
at every repetition of the savage and cowardly attack.
He had arranged a few regular lessons for the boys ; and
one night as he paced up and down the dismal school-room,
his swollen heart almost bursting to think that his protection
and countenance should have increased the misery of the
wretched being whose peculiar destitution had awakened his
pity, he paused mechanically in a dark corner where sat the
object of his thoughts.
The poor soul was poring hard over a tattered book with
the traces of recent tears still upon his face ; vainly endeavor-
ing to master some task which a child of nine years old, pos-
sessed of ordinary powers, could have conquered with ease,
but which, to the addled brain of the crushed^ boy of nine-
teen, was a sealed and hopeless myster}^ Yet "there he sat,
patiently conning the page again and again, stimulated by
no boyish ambition, for he was the common jest and scoff
even of the uncouth objects that congregated about him,
but inspired by the one eager desire to please his solita-y
friend.
Nicholas laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"I can't do it," said the dejected creature, looking up
with bitter disappointment in every feature. " No, nc."
" Do not try," replied Nicholas.
The boy shook his head, and closing the book with a sigh,
looked vacantly round, and laid his head upon his arm. Ha
was weeping.
1 48 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V-
" Do not for God's sake," said Nicholas, in an agitated
voice ; " I cannot bear to see you."
"They are more hard with me than ever," sobbed the
boy.
" I know it," rejoined Nicholas, *' They are."
" But for you," said the outcast, " I should die. They
would kill me ; they would ; I know they would."
" You will do better, poor fellow," replied Nicholas, shak-
ing his head mournfully, "when I am gone."
" Gone ! " cried the other, looking intently in his face.
" Softly ! " rejoined Nicholas. "Yes."
" Are you going } " demanded the boy, in an earnest
whisper.
"I cannot say," replied Nicholas. "I was speaking
more to my own thoughts, than to you."
" Tell me," said the boy imploringly, " Oh do tell me, wi//
you go — w/// you ? "
" I shall be driven to that at last ! " said Nicholas. " The
world is before me, after all."
"Tell me," urged Smike, " is the world as bad and dismal
as this place ? "
" Heaven forbid," replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of
his own thoughts, " its hardest, coarsest toil, were happiness
to this."
" Should I ever meet you there ? " demanded the boy
speaking with unusual wildness and volubility.
"Yes," replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him.
" No. no ! " said the other, clasping him by the hand.
" Should I — should I — tell me that again. Say I should be
sure to fin, I you."
" You would,"' replied Nicholas, with the same humane in-
tention, " antl I would help and aid you, and not bring fresh
sorrow on you as I have done here."
The boy caught both the young man's hands passionately
i:i his, an !, hugging them to hi; breast, uttered ?. few broken
sound ; which were unintelligible. Squeers entered, at the
moment, and he shrunk back into his old corner.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 149
CHAPTER XIII.
NICHOLAS VARIES THE MONOTONY OF DOTHEBOYS HALL BY A
MOST VIGOROUS AND REMARKABLE PROCEEDING, WHICH
LEADS TO CONSEQUENCES OF SOME IMPORTANCE.
The cold, feeble, dawn of a January morning was stealing
in at the windows of the common sleeping-room, when Nich-
olas, raising himself on his arm, looked among the prostrate
forms which on every side surrounded him, as though in search
of some particular object.
It needed a quick eye to detect, from among the huddled
mass of sleepers, the form of any given individual. As they
lay closely packed together, covered, for warmth's sake, with
their patched and ragged clothes, little could be distinguished
but the sharp outlines of pale faces, over which the sombre
light shed the same dull heavy color ; with, here and there, a
gaunt arm thrust forth ; its thinness hidden by no covering,
but fully exposed to view, in all its shrunken ugliness. There
were some who, lying on their backs with upturned faces and
clenched hands, just visible in the leaden light, bore more the
aspect of dead bodies than of li\ing creatures ; and there were
others coiled up into strange and fantastic postures, such as
might have been taken for the uneasy efforts of pain to gain
some temporary relief, rather than the freaks of slumber. A
few — and these were among the youngest of the children —
slept peacefully on, with smiles upon their faces, dreaming
perhaps of home ; but ever and again a deep and heavy sigh,
breaking the stillness of the room, announced that some new
sleeper had awakened to the misery of another day ; and, as
morning took the place of night, the smiles gradually faded
away, with the friendly darkness which had given them birth.
Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who
sport on earth in the night season, and melt away in the first
beam of the sun, which lights grim care and stern reality on
their daily pilgrimage through the world.
Nicholas looked upon the sleepers ; at first, with the air
of one who gazes upon a scene which, though familiar to him,
has lost none of its sorrowful effect in consequence ; and,
afterwards, with a more intense and searching scrutiny, as a
1 2 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
man would, who missed something his eye was accustomed to
meet, and had expected to rest upon. He was still occupied
in this search, and had half risen from his bed in the eager-
ness of his quest, when the voice of Squeers was heard, call-
ing from the bottom of the stairs.
"Now then," cried that gentleman, "are you going to
sleep all day, up there — "
" You lazy hounds ? " added Mrs. Squeers, finishing the
sentence, and producing at the same time, a sharp sound, like
that which is occasioned by the lacing of stays.
" We shall be down directly, sir," replied Nicholas.
" Down directly ! " said Squeers. " Ah ! you had better
be down directly, or I'll be down upon some of you in less.
Where's that Smike .? "
Nicholas looked hurriedly round again, but made no
answer.
" Smike ! " shouted Squeers.
" Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike "i "
demanded his amiable lady in the same key.
Still there was no reply, and still Nicholas stared about
him, as did the greater part of the boys, who were by this time
roused,
" Confound his impudence ! " muttered Squeers, rapping
the stair-rail impatiently with his cane. " Nickleby ! "
"Well, sir."
" Send that obstinate scoundrel down ; don't you hear me
calling ? "
" He is not here, sir," replied Nicholas.
" Don't tell me a lie," retorted the schoolmaster. " He
is."
" He is not," retorted Nicholas angrily, " don't tell me
one."
" We shall soon see that," said Mr. Squeers, rushing up
stairs. " I'll find him, I warrant you."
With which assurance, Mr. Squeers bounced into the
dormitory, and, swinging his cane in the air ready for a blow,
darted into the corner where the lean body of the drudge was
usually stretched at night. The cane descended harmlessly
upon the ground. There was nobody there.
" What does this mean ? " said Squeers, turning round
with a very pale face " Where have you hid him ? "
" I have seen nothing of him, since last night," replied
Nicholas.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
151
"Come," said Squeers, evidently frightened, though he
endeavored to look otherwise, "you won't save him this way.
Where is he ? "
" At the bottom of the nearest pond for aught I know," re-
joined Nicholas in a low voice, and fixing his eyes full on the
master's face.
'• D — n you, what do you mean by that ? " retorted Squeers
in great perturbation. WiLhout waiting for a reply, he in-
quired of the boys whether any one among them knew any
thing of their missing schoolmate.
There was a general hum of anxious denial, in the midst
of which, one shrill voice was heard to say (as, indeed, every-
body thought) :
" Please, sir, I think Smike's run away, sir."
" Ha ! " cried Squeers, turning sharp round ; " Who said
that?"
" Tomkins, please sir," rejoined a chorus of voices. Mr.
Squeers made a plunge into the crowd, and at one dive,
caught a very little boy, habited still in his night gear, and the
perplexed expression of whose countenance as he was brought
forward, seemed to intimate that he was as yet uncertain
whether he was about to be punished or rewarded for the sug-
gestion. He was not long in doubt.
"You think he has run away, do you, sir?" demanded
Squeers.
" Yes, please sir," replied the little boy.
"And what, sir," said Squeers, catching the little boy
suddenly by the arms and whisking up his drapery in a most
dexterous manner, " what reason have you to suppose that
any boy would want to run away from this establishment ?
Eh, sir?"
The child raised a dismal cry, by way of answer, and Mr.
Squeers, throwing himself into the most favorable attitude for
exercising his strength, beat him until the little urchin in his
writhings actually rolled out of his hands, when he mercifully
allowed him to roll away as he best could.
" There," said Squeers. " Now if any other boy thinks
Smike has run away, I should be glad to ha\-e a talk with
him."
There was, of course, a profound silence during which
Nicholas showed his disgust as plainly as looks could show it.
"Well, Nickleby," said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously.
" You think he has run away, I suppose ? "
1^2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" I think it extremely likely," replied Nicholas, in a quiet
manner.
" Oh, you do, do you ? " sneered Squeers. " Maybe you
know he has ? " •
" I know nothins: of the kind."
" He didn't tell you he was going, I suppose, did he } "
sneered Squeers.
'• He did not," replied Nicholas ; " I am very glad he did
not, for it would then have been my duty to have warned you,
in time."
'• Which no doubt you would ha\-e been devilish soxvj to
do," said Squeers in a taunting fashion.
"I should indeed," replied Nicholas. "You interpret
my feelings with great accuracy."
Mrs. Squeers had listened to this conversation, from the
bottom of the stairs ; but, now losing all patience, she hastily
assumed her night-jacket, and made her way to the scene of
action.
" What's all this here to do? " said the lady, as the boys
fell off right and left, to save her the trouble of clearing a
passage with her brawny arms. " What on earth are you
talking to him for, Squeery ! "
" Why, my dear," said Squeers, " the fact is, that Smike
is not to be found ! "
"Well, I know that," said the lady, "and where's the
wonder ? If you get a parcel of proud-stomached teachers
that set the young dogs a rebelling, what else can you look
for? Now, young man, you just have the kindness to take
yourself off to the school-room, and take the boys off with
you, and don't you stir out of there 'till you have leave given
you, or you and I may fall out in a way that'll spoil your
beauty, handsome as you think yourself, and so I tell you."
" Indeed ! " said Nicholas.
" Yes ; and indeed and indeed again. Mister Jackanapes,"
said the e.Kcited lady ; " and I wouldn't keep such as you in
the house, another hour, if I had my way."
" Nor would you if I had mine," replied Nicholas. " Now,
bovs ! "
"Ah! Now boys," said Mrs. Squeers, mimicking, as
nearly as she could, the voice and manner of the usher. " Fol-
low your leader, bovs, and take pattern by Smike if you dare.
See what he'll get for himself, when he is brought back ; and,
mind ! I tell you that you shall have as bad, and twice as bad,
if you so much as open your mouths about him."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 153
" If I catch him," said Squeers, "I'll only stop short of
flaying him alive. I give you notice, boys."
"^you catch him," retorted Mrs. Squeers, contemptu-
ously, "you are sure to ; you can't help it, if you go the right
way to work. Come ! Away with you ! "
With these words, Mrs. Squeers dismissed the boys, and
after a little light skirmishing with those in the rear who were
pressing forward to get out of the way, but were detained for
a few moments by the throng in front, succeeded in clearing
the room, when she confronted her spouse alone.
"He is off," said Mrs. Squeers. "The cow-house and
the stable are locked up, so he can't be there ; and he's not
down stairs anywhere, for the girl has looked. He must have
gone York way, and by a public road too."
" Why must he ? " inquired Squeers.
" Stupid ! " said Mrs. Squeers angrily " He hadn't any
money, had he ? "
" Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I
know of," replied Squeers.
" To be sure," rejoined Mrs. Squeers, " and he didn't
take anything to eat with him ; that I'll answer for. Ha ! ha !
ha ! "
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Squeers,
"Then, of course," said Mrs. S., "he must beg his way,*
and he could do that nowhere, but on the public road."
"That's true," exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands.
" True ! Yes ; but you would never have thought of it,
for all that, if I hadn't said so," replied his wife. "Now, if
you take the chaise and go one road, and I borrow Swallow's
chaise, and go the other, what with keeping our eyes open
and asking questions, one or the other of us is pretty certain
to lay hold of him."
The worthy lady's plan was adopted and put in execution
without a moment's delay. After a very hasty breakfast, and
the prosecution of some inquiries in the village, the result of
which seemed to show that he was on the right track, Squeers
started forth in the poney-chaise, intent upon discovery and
vengeance. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed in the
white top-coat, and tied up in various shawls and handker-
chiefs, issued forth in another chaise and another direction,
taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, several odd. pieces of
strong cord, and a stout laboring man : all provided and car-
ried upon the expedition with the sole object of assisting in
1 5 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
the capture, and (once caught) insuring the safe custody of
the untortunate Smike.
Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible
that whatever might be the upshot of the boy's flight, nothing
but painful and deplorable consequences were likely to ensue
from it. Death, from want and exposure to the weather, was
the best that could be expected from the protracted wander-
ing of so poor and helpless a creature, alone and unfriended,
through a country of which he was wholly ignorant. There
was little, perhaps, to choose between this fate and a return
to the tender mercies of the Yorkshire school ; but the un-
happy being had established a hold upon his sympathy and
compassion, which made his heart ache at the prospect of
the suffering he was destined to undergo. He lingered on,
in restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities, until the
evening of next day, when Squeers returned, alone, a.nd un-
successful.
" No news of the scamp ! " said the schoolmaster, who
had evidently been stretching his legs, on the old principle,
not a few times during the journey. " I'll have consolation
for this out of somebody, Nickleby, if Mrs. Squeers don't hunt
him down ; so I give you warning."
"It is not in my power to console you, sir," said Nicholas.
'"It is nothing to me."
" Isn't it ? " said Squeers in a threatening manner. "We
shall see ! "
" We shall," rejoined Nicholas.
" Here's the pony run right off his legs, and me obliged to
come home with a hack cob, that'll cost fifteen shillings be-
sides other expenses," said Squeers ; "who's to pay for that,
do you hear ? "
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.
" I'll have it out of somebody, I tell you," said Squeers,
his usual harsh crafty manner changed to open bullying.
" None of your whining vaporings here, Mr. 1 uppy, but be
off to your kennel, for its past your bed-time ! Come I Get
out ! "
Nicholas bit his lip and knit his hands involuntarily, for
his finger ends tingled to avenge the insult ; but remembering
that the man was drunk, and that it could come to little but
a noisy brawl, he contented himself with darting a contemptu-
ous look at the tyrant, and walked, as majestically as he
could, up stairs ; not a little nettled, however, to observe that
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y 155
Miss Squeers and Master Squeers, and the servant girl, were
enjoying the scene from a snug corner ; the two former, in-
dulging in many edifying remarks about the presumption of
poor upstarts, which occasioned a vast deal of laughter, in
which even the most miserable of all miserable servant girls
joined ; while Nicholas, stung to the quick, drew over his
head such bed-clothes as he had, and sternly resolved that the
outstanding account between himself and Mr. Squeers should
be settled rather more speedily than the latter anticipated.
Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when
he heard the wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It
stopped. The voice of Mrs. Squeers was heard, and in exult-
ation, ordering a glass of spirits for somebody, which was in
itself sufficient sign that something extraordinary had hap-
pened. Nicholas hardly dared to look out of the window ;
but he did so, and the very first object that met his eyes was
the wretched Smike : so bedabbled with mud and rain, so
haggard and worn, and wild, that, but for his garments being
such as no scarecrow was ever seen to wear, he might have
been doubtful, even then, of his identity.
" Lift him out," said Squeers, after he had literally feasted
his eyes, in silence, upon the culprit, " Bring him in ; bring
him in ! "
" Take care," cried Mrs. Squeers, as her husband proffered
his assistance. '' We tied his legs under the apron and made
'em fast to the chaise, to prevent his giving us the slip again."
With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened
the cord ; and Smike, to all appearance more dead than alive,
was brought into the house and securely locked up in a cellar,
until such time as Mr. Squeers should deem it expedient to
operate upon him, in presence of the assembled school.
Upon a hasty consideration of the circumstances, it may
be matter of surprise to some persons, that Mr. and Mrs.
Squeers should have taken so much trouble to repossess them-
selves of an incumbrance of which it was their wont to
complain so loudly ; but their sui prise will cease when they
are informed that the manifQld services of the drudge, if per-
formed by anybody else, would have cost the establishment
some ten or twelve' shillings per week in the shape of wages ;
and furthermore, that all runaways were, as a matter of policy,
made severe examples of, at Dotheboys Hall, inasmuch as.
in consequence of the limited extent of its attractions, there
was but little inducement, beyond the powerful impulse of fear,
156
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
I
for any pupil, provided with the usual number of legs and the
power of using them, to remain.
The news that Smike had been caught and brought back
in triumph, ran like wild-fire through the hungry community,
and expectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe it was
destined to remain, however, until afternoon ; when Squeers hav-
ing refreshed himself with his dinner, and further strengthened
himself by an extra libation or so, made his appearance (accom-
panied by his amiable partner) with a countenance of porten-
tous import, and a fearful instrument of flagellation, strong,
supple, wax-ended, and new — in short, purchased that morning,
expressly for the occasion.
"Is every boy here?" asked Squeers, in a tremendous
voice.
Every boy was there, but every boy was afraid to speak ;
so, Squeers glared along the lines to assure himself ; and every
eye drooped, and every head cowered down, as he did so.
*• Each boy keep his place," said Squeers, administering
his favorite blow to the desk, and regarding with gloomy satis-
faction the universal start which it never failed to occasion.
"Nickleby ! to your desk, sir."
It was remarked by more than one small observer, that
there was a very curious and unusual expression in the usher's
face ; but he took his seat, without opening his lips in reply.
Squeers, casting a triumphant glance at his assistant, and a
look of most comprehensive despotism on the boys, left the
room, and shortly afterwards returned, dragging Smike by the
collar — or rather by that fragment of his jacket which was
nearest the place where his collar would have been, had he
boasted such a decoration.
In any other place, the appearance of the wretched, jaded,
spiritless object, would have occasioned a murmur of compas-
sion and remonstrance. It had some effect, even there ; for
the lookers-on moved uneasily in their seats, and a few of the
boldest ventured to steal looks at each other, expressive of in-
dignation and pity.
They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was
fastened on the luckless Smike, as he inquired, according to
custom in such cases, whether he had anvthing to say for him-
self.
" Nothing, I suppose ? " said Squeers, with a diabolical
giin.
Smike glanced round, and his .eye rested for an instant on
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
157
Nicholas, as if he had expected him to intercede ; but his look
was riveted on his desk.
" Have you anything to say ? " demanded Squeers again \
giving his right arm two or three flourishes to try its power
and suppleness. " Stand a little out of the way. Mrs. Squeers
my dear ; I've hardly got room enough."
" Spare me, sir ! " cried Smike.
" Oh ! that's all, is it ? " said Squeers. " Yes, I'll flog you
within an inch of your life, and spare you that."
" Ha, ha, ha," laughed Mrs. Squeers, " that's a good 'un ! "
"I was driven to do it," said Smike faintly; and casting
another imploring look about him.
" Driven to do it, were you," said Squeers. " Oh ! it wasn't
your'~fa]3TrX'Trwas iriTne, I suppose — eh ? "
'"'^A nasty, ungrateful, pig-headed, brutish, obstinate, sneak-
ing dog," exclaimed Mrs. Squeers, taking Smike's head under
her arm, and administering a cuff at every epithet ; what
does he mean by that ? "
" Stand aside, my dear," replied Squeers. " We'll try and
find out."
Mrs. Squeers being out of breath with her exertions, com-
plied. Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip ; one des-
perate cut had fallen on his body — he was wincing from the
lash, and uttering a scream of pain — it was raised again, and
again about to fall — when Nicholas Nickleby suddenly start-
ing up, cried " Stop ! " in a voice that made the rafters ring.
"Who cried stop ? " said Squeers turning savagely round.
" I," said Nicholas, stepping forward. " This must not go
on."
" Must not go on ! " cried Squeers, almost in a shriek.
" No ! " thundered Nicholas.
Aghast and stupefied by the boldness_pf lloe-iftterierence,
Squeers released his hold of Smike, and falling back a pace
or two, gazed upon Nicholas with looks that were positively
frightful.
" I say must not," repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted ;
"shall not. I will prevent it."
Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting
out of his head ; but astonishment had actually, for the moment,
bereft him of speech.
" You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the
miserable lad's behaff," said Nicholas; "you have returned
no answer to the letter in which I begged forgiveness for him,
158
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
and offered to be responsible that he would remain quietly
here. Don't blame me for this public interference. You have
brought it upon yourself; not I."
" Sit down beggar ! " screamed Squeers, almost beside him-
self with rage, and seizing Smike as he spoke.
"Wretch," rejoined Nicholas fiercely, "touch him at your
peril ! I will not stand by and see it done. My blood is up,
and I have the strength of ten such men as you. Look to your-
self, for by Heaven I will not spare you, if you drive me on ! "
" Stand back," cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon. >
" I have a long series of insults to avenge," said Nicholas, /
flushed with passion ; " and my indignation is aggravated by r
the dastardly cruelties practised on helpless infancy in this \
foul den. Have a care \ for if you do raise the devil within i
me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon your own headii^
He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent out-
break of wrath, and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast,
spat upon him, and struck him a blow across the face with his
instrument of torture, which raised up a bar of livid flesh as it
was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the blow, and con-
centrating into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn,
and indignation, , Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the
weapon from his hand, and pinning him by the throat, beat
the ruffian till he roared for mercy.
The boys — with the exception of Master Squeers, who,
coming to his father's assistance, harassed the enemy in the
rear — moved not, hand or foot ; but Mrs. Squeers, with many
shrieks for aid, hung on to the tail of her partner's coat, and
endeavored to drag him from his infuriated adversary ; while
Miss Squeers, who had been peeping through the key-hole in
expectation of a very different scene, darted in at the very
beginning of the attack, and after launching a shower of ink-
stanks at the usher's head, beat Nicholas to her heart's con-
tent : animating herself, at every blow, with the recollection
of his having refused her proferred love, and thus imparting
additional strength to an arm which (as she took after her
mother in this respect) was, at no time, one of the weakest.
Nicholas, in the full torrent of his violence, felt the blows
no more than if they had been dealt with feathers ; but, be-
coming tired of the noise and uproar, and feeling that his arm
grew weak besides, he threw all his remaining strength into
half-a-dozen finishing cuts, and flung Squeers from him, with
all the force he could muster. The violence of his fall pre-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
159
cipitated Mrs. Squeers completely over an adjacent form ; and
Squeers striking his head against it in his descent, lay at his
full length on the ground, stunned and motionless.
Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and
ascertained, to his thorough satisfaction, that Squeers was
only stunned, and not dead (upon which point he had had
some unpleasant doubts at first), Nicholas left his family to
restore him, and retired to consider what course he had bet-
ter adopt. He looked anxiously round for Smike, as he left
the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.
After a brief consideration, he packed up a few clothes in
a small leathern valise, and, finding that nobody offered to
oppose his progress, marched boldly out by the front door,
and shortly afterwards, struck into the road which led to
Greta Bridge.
When he had cooled, sufficiently to be enabled to give his
present circumstances some little reflection, they did not ap-
pear in a very encouraging light; he had only four shillings
and a few pence in his pocket, and was something more than
two hundred and fifty miles from London, whither he resolved
to direct his steps, that he might ascertain, among other
things, what account of the morning's proceedings Mr. Squeers
transmitted to his most affectionate uncle.
Lifting up liis eyes, as he arrived at the conclusion that
there was no remedy for this unfortunate state of things, he
beheld a horseman coming towards him, whom, on nearer ap-
proach, he discovered, to his infinite chagrin, to be no other
than Mr. John Browdie, who, clad in cords and leather leggings,
was urging his animal forward by means of a thick ash stick,
which seemed to have been recently cut from some stout
sapling.
" I am in no mood for more noise and riot," thought
Nicholas, " and yet, do what I will, I shall have an altercation
with this honest blockhead, and perhaps a blow or two from
yonder staff."
In truth there appeared some reason to expect that such
a result would follow from the encounter, for John Browdie
no sooner saw Nicholas advancing, than he reined in his
horse by the footpath, and waited until such time as he should
come up ; looking meanwhile, very sternly between the horse's
ears, at Nicholas, as he came on at his leisure.
" Servant, young genelman," said John.
"Yours," said Nicholas.
1 60 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" Weel ; we ha' met at last," observed John, making the
stirrup ring under a smart touch of the ash stick.
" Yes," repHed Nicholas, hesitating. " Come ! " he said,
frankly, after a moment's pause, " we parted on no very good
terms the last time we met ; it was my fault, I believe ; but I
had no intention of offending you, and no idea that I was do-
ing so. I was very sorry for it afterwards. Will vou shake
hands ? "
" Shake hands ! " cried the good-humored Yorkshireman ;
" ah ! that I weel ; "" at the same time he bent down from the
saddle, and gave Nicholas's fist a huge wrench ; " but wa'at
be the matther wi' .thy feace, mun ? it be all brokken loike."
" It is a cut," said Nicholas, turning scarlet as he spoke,
— " a blow ; but I returned it to the giver, and with good
interest too." '
" Noa, did'ee though ? " exclaimed John Browdie. " Well
deane ! I loike 'un for thot."
" The fact is," said Nicholas, not very well knowing how
to make the avowal, " the fact is, that I have been ill-treated."
" Noa ! " interposed John Browdie, in atone of compassion ;
for he was a giant in strength and stature, and Nicholas, very
likely, in his eyes, seemed a mere dwarf; " dean't say thot."
"Yes, I have," replied Nicholas, "by that man Squeers,
and I have beaten him soundly, and am leaving this place in
consequence."
"What! " cried John Browdie, with such an ecstatic shout,
that the horse quite shied at it. " Beatten the schoolmeasther !
Ho ! ho ! ho ' Beatten the schoolmeasther ! who e\er heard
o' the loike o' that noo ! Giv' us thee hond agean, yongster.
Beatten the schoolmeasther! Dang it. Hoove thee for't."
With these expressions of delight, John Browdie laughed
and laughed again — so loud that the echoes, far and wide,
sent back nothing but jovial peals of merriment — and shook
Nicholas by the hand meanwhile, no less heartily. When his
mirth had subsided, he inquired what Nicholas meant to do ;
on his informing him, to go straight to London, he shook his
head doubtfully, and inquired if he knew how much the
coaches charged, to carry passengers so far.
"No, I do not," said Nicholas; "but it is of no great
consequence to me, for I intend walking."
" Gang awa' to Lunnun afoot ! " cried John in amazement.
" Every step of the way," replied Nicholas. " I should be
many steps further on by this time, and so good-by ! "
NIC HO L A S NICKLEB Y. 1 6 1
" Nay n )o," replied the honest countryman, reining in his
impatient horse, " stan' still, tellee. Hoo much cash hast
thee gotten ? "
" Not much," said Nicholas, coloring, " but I can make it
enough. Where there's a will, there's a way, you know."
John Browdie made no verbal answer to this remark, but
putting his hand in his pocket, pulled out an old purse of
soiled leather, and insisted that Nicholas should borrow from
him whatever he required for his present necessities.
" Dean't be afeard, mun," he said; " tak' eneaf to carry
thee whoam. Thee'lt pay me yan da}', a' warrant."
Nicholas could by no means be prevailed upon to borrow
more than a sovereign, with which loan Mr. Browdie, after
many entreaties that he would accept of more (observing, with
a touch of Yorkshire caution, that if he didn't spend it all, he
could put the surplus by, till he had an opportunity of remit-
ting it carriage free), was fain to content himself.
"Tak' that bit o' timber to help thee on wi' mun," he
added, pressing his stick on Nicholas, and giving his hand an-
other squeeze ; " keep a good heart, and bless thee. Beatten
the schoolmeasther ! 'Cod it's the best thing a've heerd this
twonty year ! "
So saying, and indulging, with more delicacy than might
have been expected from him, in another series of loud laughs,
for the purpose of avoiding the thanks which Nicholas poured
forth, John Browdie set spurs to his horse, and went off at a
smart canter : looking back, from time to time, as Nicholas
stood gazing after him, and waving his hand cheerily, as if to
encourage him on his way. Nicholas watched the horse and
rider until they disappeared over the brow of a distant hill,
and then set forward on his journey.
He did not travel far, that afternoon, for by this time it
was nearly dark, and there had been a heavy fall of snow,
which not only rendered the way toilsome, but the track uncer-
tain and difficult to find, after daylight, save by experienced
wayfarers. He lay, that night, at a cottage, where beds were
let at a cheap rate to the more humble class of travellers ;
and, rising betimes next morning, made his way before night
to Boroughbridge. Passing through that town in search of
some cheap resting-place, he stumbled upon an empty barn
within a couple of hundred yards of the road side ; in a warm
corner of which, he stretched his weary limbs, and soon fell
asleep. ii
1 62 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
When he awoke next morning, and tried to recollect his
dreams, which had been all connected with his recent sojourn
at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared —
not with the most composed countenance possible — at some
motionless object which seemed to be stationed within a few
yards in front of him.
" Strange ! " cried Nicholas ; " can this be some lingering
creation of the visions that have scarcely left me ! It cannot
be real — and yet I — I am awake I Smike ! "
The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its
knees at his feet. It was Smike indeed.
"Why do you kneel to me?" said Nicholas, hastily rais-
ing him.
" To go with you — anywhere — ever\^where — to the world's
end — to the churchyard grave," replied Smike, clinging to his
hand. " Let me, oh do let me. You are my home — my kind
friend — take me with you, pray."
" I am a friend who can do little for you," said Nicholas,
kindly. " How came you here ? "
He had followed him, it seemed ; had never lost sight of
him all the way ; had watched while he slept, and when he
halted for refreshment ; and had feared to appear, before,
lest he should be sent back. He had not intended to appear
now, but Nicholas had awakened more suddenly than he
looked for, and he had had no time to conceal himself.
" Poor fellow ! " said Nicholas, " your hard fate denies
you any friend but one, and he is nearly as poor and helpless
as yourself."
" May I — may I go with you ? " asked Smike, timidly.
" I will be your faithful hard-working servant, I will, indeed.
I want no clothes," added the poor creature, drawing his rags
together ; these will do verv well. I only want to be near
you."
"And you shall," cried Nicholas. "And the w^orld shall
deal by you as it does by me, till one or both of us shall quit
it for a better. Come ! "
With these words, he strapped his burden on his shoulders,
and, taking his stick in one hand, extended the other to his
delighted charge ; and so they passed out of the old barn,
together.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,
163
CHAPTER XIV.
HAVING THE MISFORTUNE TO TREAT OF NONE BUT COMMON
PEOPLE, IS NECESSARILY OF A MEAN AND VULGAR CHAR-
ACTER.
In that quarter of London in which Golden Square is sit-
uated, there is a bygone faded, tumble-down street, with two
irregular rows of tall meagre houses, which seem to have
stared each other out of countenance, years ago. The very
chimneys appear to have grown dismal and melancholy, from
having had nothing better to look at, than the chimneys over
the way. Their tops are battered, and broken, and blackened
with smoke ; and, here and there, some taller stack than the
rest, inclining heavily to one side, and toppling over the roof,
seems to meditate taking revenge for half a centur}-"s neglect,
by crushing the inhabitants of the garrets beneath.
The fowls who peck about the kennels, jerking their bodies
hither and thither with a gait which none but town fowls are
ever seen to adopt, and which any country cock or hen would
be puzzled to understand, are perfectly in keeping with the
crazy habitations of their owners. Dingy, ill-plumed drowsy
flutterers, sent, like many of the neighboring children, to get
a livelihood in the streets, they hop, from stone to stone, in
forlorn search of some hidden eatable in the mud, and can
scarcely raise a crow among them. The only one w'ith any-
thing approaching to a voice, is an aged bantam at the
baker's ; and even he is hoarse, in consequence of bad living
in his last place.
To judge from the size of the houses, they have been, at
one time, tenanted by persons of better condition than their
present occupants.; but they are now let off, by the week, in
floors or rooms, and every door has almost as many plates or
bell-handles as there are apartments within. The windows
are, for the same reason, sufticiently diversified in appearance,
being ornamented with ever)- variety of common blind and
curtain that can easily be imagined ; while every doonvay is
blocked up, and rendered nearly impassible, by a motley
collection of children and porter pots of all sizes, from the
164 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
baby in arms and the half-pint pot, to the full-grown girl and
half-gallon can.
In the parlor of one of these houses, which was perhaps
a thought dirtier than any of its neighbors ; which exhibited
more bell-handles, children, and porter pots, and caught in all
its freshness the first gust of the thick black smoke that poured
forth, night and day, from a large brewery hard by ; hung a
bill, announcing that there was yet one room to let within its
walls, though on what story the vacant room could be — regard
being had to the outward tokens of many lodgers which the
whole front displayed, from the mangle in the kitchen window
to the flower-pots on the parapet — it would have been beyond
the power of a calculating boy to discover.
The common stairs of this mansion were bare and carpet-
less ; but a curious visitor who had to climb his way to the
top, might have observed that there were not wanting indica-
tions of the progressive poverty of the inmates, although their
rooms were shut. Thus, the first-floor lodgers, being flush of
furniture, kept an old mahogany table — real mahogany — on
the landing-place outside, which was only taken in, when
occasion required. On the second stor)', the spare furniture
dwindled down to a couple of old deal chairs, of which one,
belonging to the back room, was shorn of a leg, and bottom-
less. The storv above, boasted no greater excess than a
worm-eaten wash-tub ; and the garret landing-place displayed
no costlier articles than two crippled pitchers, and some broken
blacking-bottles.
It was on this garret landing-place that a hard-featured
square-faced man, elderly and shabby, stopped to unlock the
door of the front attic, into which, having surmounted the task
of turning the rusty key in its still more rusty wards, he walked
with the air of legal owner.
This person wore a wig of short, coarse, red hair, which
he took off with his hat, and hung upon a nail. Having
adopted in its place a dirty cotton nightcap, and groped about
in the dark till he found a remnant of candle, he knocked at
the partition which divided the two garrets, and inquired, in
a loud voice, whether Mr. Noggs had a light.
The sounds that came back, were stifled by the lath and
plaster, and it seemed moreover as though the speaker had
uttered them from the interior of a mug or other drinking
vessel ; but they were in the voice of Newman, and conveyed
a reply in the affirmative.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
^(>5
" A nasty night, Mr. Noggs ! " said the man in the night-
cap, stepping in to light his candle.
" Does it rain ? " asked Newman.
" Does it ? " replied the other pettishly. " I am wet
through."
" It dosen't take much to wet you and me through, Mr.
Crowl," said Newman, laying his hand upon the lappel of his
threadbare coat.
"Well ; and that makes it the more vexatious," observed
Mr. Crowl, in the same pettish tone.
Uttering a low querulous growl, the speaker, whose harsh
countenance was the very epitome of selfishness, raked the
scanty fire nearly out of the grate, and, emptying the glass
which Noggs had pushed towards him, inquired where he kept
his coals.
Newman Noggs pointed to the bottom of a cupboard, and
Mr. Crowl, seizing the shovel, threw on half the stock : which
Noggs very deliberately took off again, without saying a word.
" You have not turned saving, at this time of day, I hope ? "
said Crowl.
Newman pointed to the empty glass, as though it were a
sufficient refutation of the charge, and briefly said that he was
going down stairs to supper.
" To the Kenwigses ? " asked Crowl.
Newman nodded assent.
" Think of that now ! " said Crowl. " If I didn't— think-
ing that you were certain not to go, because you said you
wouldn't — tell Kenwigs I couldn't come, and make up my
mind to spend the evening with you ! "
" I was obliged to go," said Newman. " They would have
me."
" Well ; but what's to become of me ? " urged the selfish
man, who never thought of anybody else. " It's all your
fault. I'll tell you what — I'll sit by your fire till you come
back again."
Newman cast a despairing glance at his small store of fuel,
but, not having the courage to say no — a word which in all
his life he never had said at the right time, either to himself
or any one else — gave way to the proposed arrangement. Mr.
Crowl immediately went about making himself as comfortable,
with Newman Noggs's means, as circumstances would admit
of his being made.
The lodgers to whom Crowl had made allusion under the
1 66 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
designation of " the Kenwigses," were the wife and olive
branches of one Mr. Kenwigs, a turner in ivor)^, who was
looked upon as a person of some consideration on the prem-
ises, inasmuch as he occupied the whole of the first floor,
comprising a suite of two rooms. Mrs. Kenwigs, too, was
quite a lady in her manners, and of a very genteel family,
having an uncle who collected a water-rate ; besides which
distinction, the two eldest of her little girls went twice a week
to a dancing school in the neighborhood, and had flaxen hair,
tied with blue ribands, hanging in luxuriant pigtails down
their backs ; and wore little white trousers with frills round
the ankles for all of which reasons, and many more equally
valid but too numerous to mention, Mrs. Kenwigs was con-
sidered a very desirable person to know, and was the constant
theme of all the gossips in the street, and even three or four
doors round the corner at both ends.
It was the anniversary of that happy day on which the
church of England as by law established, had bestowed Mrs.
Kenwigs upon Mr. Kenwigs ; and in grateful commemoration
of the same, Mrs. Kenwigs had invited a few select friends to
cards and a supper in the first floor, and had put on a new
gown to receive them in : which gown, being of a flaming
color and made upon a juvenile principle, was so successful
that Mr. Kenwigs said the eight years of matrimony and the
five children seemed all a dream, and Mrs. Kenwigs younger
and more blooming than on the very first Sunday he had kept
CD.npany with her.
Beautiful as Mrs. Kenwigs looked when she was dressed
though, and so stately that you would have supposed she had
a cook and housemaid at least, and nothing to do but order
them about, she had a world of trouble with the preparations ;
more, indeed, than she, being of a delicate and genteel con-
stitution, could have sustained, had not the pride of housewifery
upheld her. At last, however, all the things that had to be
got together were got together, and all the things that had to
be got out of the way were got out of the way, and everything
was ready, and the collector himself having promised to come,
fortune smiled upon the occasion.
The party was admirably selected. There were, first of
all, Mr. Kenwigs and Mrs. Kenwigs, and four olive Kenwigses
who sat up to supper ; firstly, because it was but right that
they should have a treat on such a day ; and secondly, because
their going to bed, in presence of the company, would have
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 167
been inconvenient, not to say improper. Then, there was a
young- lady who had made Mrs. Kenwigs's dress, and who —
it was the most convenient thing in the world — living in the
two-pair back, gave up her bed to the baby, and got a little
girl to watch it. Then, to match this young lady, was a young
man, who had knows Mr. Kenwigs when he was a bachelor,
and was much esteemed by the ladies, as bearing the reputa-
tion of a rake. To these, were added a newly-married couple,
who had visited Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs in their courtship ;
and a sister of Mrs. Kenwigs's, who was quite a beauty; be-
sides whom, there was another young man, supposed to enter-
tain honorable designs upon the lady last mentioned ; and
Mr. Noggs, who was a genteel person to ask, because he had
been a gentleman once. There were also an elderly lady from
the back parlor, and one more young lady, who, next to the
collector, perhaps was the great lion of the party, being the
daughter of a theatrical fireman, who "went on" in the pan-
tomine, and had the greatest turn for the stage that was ever
known, being able to sing and recite in a manner that brought
the tears into Mrs. Kenwigs's eyes. There was only one draw-
back upon the pleasure of seeing such friends, and that was,
that the lady in the back parlor, who was very fat, and turned
of sixt}', came in a low book-muslin dress and short kid gloves,
which so exasperated Mrs. Kenwigs, that that lady assured her
visitors, in private, that if it hadn't happened that the supper
was cooking at the back-parlor grate at that moment, she
certainly would have requested its representative to withdraw.
"My dear," said Mr. Kenwigs, "wouldn't it be better to
begin a round game ? "
" Kenwigs, my dear," returned his wife, " I am surprised
at you. Would you begin without my uncle ? "
" I forgot the collector," said Kenwigs ; " oh no, that
would never do."
" He's so particular," said Mrs. Kenwigs, turning to the
other married lady, " that if we began without him, I should
be out of his will for ever."
" Dear ! " cried the married lady.
" You've no idea what he is," replied Mrs. Kenwigs ; " and
yet as good a creature as ever breathed."
" The kindest-hearted man as ever was," said Kenwigs.
" It goes to his heart, I believe, to be forced to cut the
water off, when the people don't pay," observed the bachelor
friend, intending a joke.
1 68 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
George," said Mr. Kenwigs, solemnly, "none of that, if
you please."
" It was only my joke," said the friend, abashed.
"George," rejoined Mr. Kenwigs, " a joke is a wery good
thing — a wery good thing — but when that joke is made at the
expense of Mrs. Kenwigs's feelings, I set my face against it.
A man in public life expects to be sneered at — it is the fault
of his elewated sitiwation, and not of himself. Mrs. Kenwigs's
relation is a public man, and that he knows, George, and that
he can bear ; but putting Mrs. Kenwigs out of the question
(if I could put Mrs. Kenwigs out of the question on such an
occasion as this), I have the honor to be connected with the
collector by marriage ; and I cannot allow these remarks in
my — " Mr. Kenwigs was going to say "house," but he
rounded the sentence with " apartments."
At the conclusion of these observations, which drew forth
evidences of acute feeling from Mrs. Kenwigs, and had the in-
tended effect of impressing the company with a deep sense of
the collector's dignity, a ring was heard at the bell.
" That's him," whispered Mr. Kenwigs, greatly excited,
" Morleena, my dear, run down and let your uncle in, and
kiss him directly you get the door open. Hem ! Let's be
talking."
Adopting Mr. Kenwigs's suggestion, the company spoke
very loudly, to look easy and unembarrassed ; and almost as
soon as they had begun to do so, a short old gentleman in
drabs and gaiters, with a face that might have been carved
out of lignum vitce, for anything that appeared to the contrary,
was led playfully in by Miss Morleena Kenwigs, regarding
whose uncommon Christian name it may be here remarked
that it had been invented and composed by Mrs. Kenwigs
previous to her first lying-in, for the special distinction of her
eldest child, in case it should prove a daughter.
" Oh, uncle, I am so glad to see you," said Mrs. Kenwigs,
kissing the collector affectionately on both cheeks. " So
glad ! "
" Many happy returns of the day, my dear," replied the
collector, returning the compliment.
Now, this was an interesting thing. Here w-as a collector
of water-rates, without his book, without his pen and ink,
without his double knock, without his intimidation, kissing —
actually kissing — an agreeable female, and leaving taxes, sum-
monses, notices that he had called, or announcements that he
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
169
would never call again, for two quarters' due, wholly out of
the question. It was pleasant to see how the company looked
on, quite absorbed in the sight, and to behold the nods and
winks with which they expressed their gratification at finding
so much humanity in a tax-gatherer.
" Where will you sit, uncle .' " said Mrs. Kenwigs, in the
full glow of family pride, which the appearance of her distin-
guished relation occasioned.
" Anywheres, my dear," said the collector, " I am not par-
ticular."
Not particular ! What a meek collector. If he had been
an author, who knew his place, he couldn't have been more
humble.
"Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs, addressing the collector,
" some friends here, sir, are very anxious for the honor of —
thank you — Mr. and Mrs. Cutler, Mr. Lillyvick."
" Proud to know you, sir," said Mr. Cutler, " I've heerd of
you very often." These were not mere words of ceremony ;
for, Mr. Cutler, having kept house in Mr. Lillyvick's parish,
had heard of him very often indeed. His attention in calling
had been quite extraordinar}-.
" George, you know, I think, Mr. Lillyvick," said Ken-
wigs ; " lady from down stairs — Mr. Lillyvick, Mr. Snewkes
— Mr. Lillyvick. Miss Green — Mr. Lilly\ick. Mr. Lillyvick
— Miss Petowker, of the Theatre Royal, Drur}' Lane. Veiy
glad to make two public characters acquainted ! Mrs Ken-
wigs, my dear, will you sort the counters ? "
Mrs. Kenwigs, with the assistance of Newman Noggs,
(who, as he performed sundry little acts of kindness for the
children, at all times and seasons, was humored in his request
to be taken no notice of, and was merely spoken about, in a
whisper, as a decayed gentleman), did as she was desired ;
and the greater part of the guests sat down to speculation,
while Newman himself, Mrs. Kenwigs, and Miss Petowker of
the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, looked after the supper-table.
While the ladies were thus busjdng themselves, Mr. Lilly-
vick was intent upon the game in progress, and as all should
be fish that comes to a water collector's net, the dear old gen-
tleman was by no means scrupulous in appropriating to him-
self the property of his neighbors, which, on the contrary, he
abstracted whenever an opportunity presented itself, smiling
good-humoredly all the while, and making so many condescend-
ing speeches to the owners, that they were delighted with his
lyo
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
amiability, and thought in their hearts that he deserved to be
Chancellor of the Exchequer at least.
After a great deal of trouble, and the administration of
many slaps on the head to the infant Kenwigses, whereof two
of the most rebellious were summarily banished, the cloth was
laid with much elegance, and a pair of boiled fowls, a large
piece of pork, apple-pie, potatoes and greens, were served ; at
sight of which, the worthy Mr. Lillyvick vented a great many
witticisms, and plucked up amazingly : to the immense delight
and satisfaction of the whole bodv of admirers.
Very well and very fast the supper went off ; no more
serious difficulties occurring, than those which arose from the
incessant demand for clean knives and forks : which made
poor Mrs. Ken wigs wish, more than once, that private society
adopted the principle of schools, and required that ever)' guest
should bring his own knife, fork and spoon ; which doubtless
would be a great accommodation in many cases, and to no one
more so than to the lady and gentleman of the house, espec-
ially if the school principle were carried out to the full extent,
and the articles were expected, as a matter of delicacy, not to
be taken away again.
Everybody having eaten everything, the table was cleared
in a most alarming hurry, and with great noise ; and the
'Spirits, whereat the eyes of Newman Noggs glistened, being
arranged in order, with water both hot and cold, the party
composed themselves for conviviality ; Mr. Lillyvick being
stationed in a large arm-chair by the fire-side, and the four
little Kenwigses disposed on a small form in front of the com-
pany with their flaxen tails towards them, and their faces to
the fire ; an arrangement which was no sooner perfected, than
Mrs. Kenwigs was overpowered by the feelings of a mother,
and fell upon the left shoulder of Mr. Kenwigs dissolved in
tears.
" They are so beautiful ! " said Mrs. Kenwigs, sobbing.
" Oh, dear," said all the ladies, " so they are ! it's very nat-
ural you should feel proud of that ; but don't give way, don't."
" I can — not help it, and it don't signify," sobbed Mrs.
Kenwigs ; " oh ! they're too beautiful to live, much too beau-
tiful ! "
On hearing this alarming presentiment of their being
doomed to an early death in the flower of their infancy, all
four little girls raised a hideous cry, and bur}'ing their heads
in their mother's lap simultaneously, screamed until the eight
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 17 1
flaxen tails vibrated again ; Mrs. Kenwigs meanwhile clasping
them alternately to her bosom, with attitudes expressive of
distraction, which Miss Petowker herself might have copied.
At length, the anxious mother permitted herself to be
soothed into a more tranquil state, and the little Kenwigses,
being also composed, were distributed among the company,
to prevent the possibility of Mrs. Kenwigs being again over-
come by the blaze of their combined beauty. This done, the
ladies and gentlemen united in prophesying that they would
live for many, many years, and that there was no occasion at
all for Mrs. Kenwigs to distress herself : which, in good truth,
there did not appear to be : the loveliness of the children by
no means justifying her apprehensions.
"This day eight year," said Mr. Kenwigs after a pause.
" Dear me — ah ! "
This reflection was echoed by all present, who said " Ah ! "
first, and " dear me," afterwards.
" I was younger then," tittered Mrs. Kenwigs.
"No," said the collector.
"Certainly not," added everybody.
"I remember my niece," said Mr. Lillyvick, surveying his
audience with a grave air ; " I remember her, on that very
afternoon, when she first acknowledged to her mother a par-
tiality for Kenwigs. ' Mother.' she says, ' I love him.' "
"'Adore him,' I said, uncle," interposed Mrs. Kenwigs.
" ' Love him,' I" think, my dear," said the collector firmly.
" Perhaps you are right, uncle," replied Mrs. Kenwigs,
submissively. " I thought it was ' adore.' "
" ' Love,' my dear," retorted Mr. Lillyvick. " ' Mother,'
she says, ' I love him ! ' ' What do I hear ? ' cries her
mother; and instantly falls into strong conwulsions."
A general exclamation of astonishment burst from the
company,
" Into strong conwulsions," repeated Mr. Lilly^'ick, re-
garding them with a rigid look. " Kenwigs will excuse my
saying, in the presence of friends, that there was a very great
objection to him, on the ground that he was beneath the
family, and would disgrace it. You remember, Kenwigs ? "
" Certainly," replied that gentleman, in no way displeased
at the reminiscence, inasmuch as it proved, beyond all doubt,
what a high family Mrs. Kenwigs came of.
" I shared in that feeling," said Mr. Lillyvick : "perhaps
it was natural : perhaps it wasn't."
272 • NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
A gentle murmur seemed to say, that., in one of Mr. Lilly-
vick's station, the objection was not only natural, but highly
praiseworthy.
" 1 came round to him in time," said Mr. Lilly vick.
" After they were married, and there was no help for it, 1 was
one of the first to say that Kenwigs must be taken notice of.
The family did take notice of him, in consequence, and on my
representation ; and I am bound to say — and proud to say —
that I have always found him a very honest, well-behaved,
upright, respectable sort of a man. Kenwigs, shake hands."
" I am proud to do it, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs.
"So am I, Kenwigs," rejoined Mr. Lillyvick.
" A very happy life I have led with your niece, sir," said
Kenwigs.
" it would have been your own fault if you had not, sir,"
remarked Mr. Lillyvick.
" Morleena Kenwigs," cried her mother, at this crisis,
much affected, " kiss your dear uncle ! "
The young lady did as she was requested, and the three
other little girls were successively hoisted up to the collector's
countenance, and subjected to the same process, which was
afterwards repeated on them by the majority of those
present.
" Oh dear, Mrs. Kenwigs," said Miss Petowker, " while
Mr. Noggs is making that punch to drink happy returns in, do
let Morleena go through that figure dance before Mr. Lilly-
vick."
"No, no, my dear," replied Mrs. Kenwigs, "it will only
worry my uncle."
" It can't worry him, I'm sure," said Miss Petowker.
" You will be very much pleased, won't you, sir t "
"That I am sure I shall," replied the collector, glancing
at the punch-mixer.
"Well then, I'll tell you what," said Mrs. Kenwigs,
" Morleena shall do the steps, if uncle can persuade Miss
Petowker to recite us the Blood-Drinker's Burial, after-
wards."
There was a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet,
at this proposition ; the subject whereof, gently inclined her
head several times, in acknowledgment of the reception.
"You know," said Miss Petowker, reproachfully, "that I
dislike doing anything professional in pri\ate parties."
"Oh, but not here!" said Mrs. Kenwigs. "We are all
NICH®LAS NTCKLEB Y.
iM
so very friendly and pleasant, that you might as well be going
through it in your own room , besides, the occasion "
" I can't resist that," interrupted Miss Petowker ; "any-
thing in my humble power I shall be delighted to do."
Mrs. Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a small
programme of the entertainments between them, of which this
was the prescribed order, but they had settled to have a little
pressmg on both sides, because it looked more natural. The
company being all ready. Miss Petowker hummed a tune, and
Morleena danced a dance ; having previously had the soles
of her shoes chalked, with as much care as if she were going
on the tight-rope. It was a very beautiful figure, comprising
a great deal of work for the arms, and was received with
unbounded applause.
" If I was blessed with a — a child — " said Miss Petowker,
blushing, " of such genius as that,.! would have her out at the
Opera instantly."
Mrs. Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr. Kenwigs, who
shook his head, and observed that he was doubtful about it.
" Kenwigs is afraid," said Mrs. K.
"What of?" inquired Miss Petowker, "not of her fail-
ing ? "
" Oh no," replied Mrs. Kenwigs, " but if she grew up what
she is now, — only think of the young dukes and marquises."
" Verv right," said the collector.
" Still," submitted Miss Petowker, " if she took a proper
pride in herself, you know — "
" There's a good deal in that," observed Mrs. Kenwigs,
looking at her husband.
" I only know — " faltered Miss Petowker, — " it may be
no rule to be sure — but /have never found any inconvenience
or unpleasantness of that sort."
Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming gallantr)^, said that settled
the question at once, and that he would take the subject into
his serious consideration. This being resolved upon, Miss
Petowker was entreated to begin the Blood-Drinker's Burial ;
to which end, that young lady let down her back hair, and
taking up her position at the other end of the room, with the
bachelor friend posted in a corner, to rush out at the cue " in
death expire," and catch her in his arms when she died raving
mad, went through the performance with extraordinary spirit,
and to the great terror of the little Kenwigses, who were all
but frightened into fits.
I y 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
The ecstasies consequent upon the effort had not yet sub-
sided, and Newman (who had not been thoroughly sober at
so late an hour for a long long time,) had not yet been able to
put in a word of announcement, that the punch was ready,
when a hasty knock was heard at the room-door, which
elicited a shriek from Mrs. Kenwigs, who immediately divined
that the baby had fallen out of bed.
" Who is that ? " demanded Mr. Kenwigs, sharply.
" Don't be alarmed, it's only me," said Crowl, looking in,
in his nightcap. " The baby is very comfortable, for I peeped
into the room as I came down, and it's fast asleep, and so is
the girl ; and I don't think the candle will set fire to the bed-
curtain, unless a draught was to get into the room — it's Mr.
Noggs that's wanted."
" Me ! " cried Newman, much astonished.
" Why, it is a queer hour, isn't it .-' " replied Crowl, who
was not best pleased at the prospect of losing his fire ; " and
they are queer-looking people, too, all covered with rain and
mud. Shall I tell them to go away ? "
"No," said Newman, rising. "People? How many?"
" Two," rejoined Crowl.
" Want me ? By name ? " asked Newman.
" By name," replied Crowl. " Mr. Newman Noggs, as pat
as need be."
Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried
away, muttering that he would be back directly. He was as
good as his word ; for, in an exceedingly short time, he burst
into the room, and seizing, without a word of apology or ex-
planation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch from the
table, darted away like a madman.
" What the deuce is the matter with him ? " exclaimed Crowl,
throwing the door open. " Hark ! Is there any noise
abo\'e ? "
The guests rose in great confusion, and, looking in each
other's faces with much perplexity and some fear, stretched
their necks forward, and listened attentively.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB K
175
CHAPTER XV.
ACQUAINTS THE READER WITH THE CAUSE AND ORIGIN OF
THE INTERRUPTION DESCRIBED IN THE LAST CHAPTER,
AND WITH SOME OTHER MATTERS NECESSARY TO BE
KNOWN.
Newman Noggs scrambled in violent haste up stairs with
the steaming beverage, which he had so unceremoniously
snatched from the table of Mr. Ken wigs, and indeed from the
very grasp of the water-rate collector, who was eyehig the con-
tents of the tumbler, at the moment of its unexpected abstrac-
tion, with lively marks of pleasure visible in his countenance.
He bore his prize straight to his own back garret, where,
footsore and nearly shoeless, wet, dirty, jaded, and disfigured
with every mark of fatiguing travel, sat Nicholas, and Smike,
at once the cause and partner of his toil : both perfectly worn
out, by their unwonted and protracted exertion.
Newman's first act was to compel Nicholas, with gentle
force, to swallow half of the punch at a breath, nearly boiling as
it was ; and his next, to pour the remainder down the throat
of Smike, who, never having tasted anything stronger than
aperient medicine in his whole life, exhibited various odd
manifestations of surprise and delight, during the passage of
the liquor down his throat, and turned up his eyes most em-
phatically when it was all gone.
" You are wet through," said Newman, passing his hand
hastily over the coat which Nicholas had thrown off ; " and I
— I — haven't even a change," he added, with a wistful glance
at the shabby clothes he wore himself.
" I have dry clothes, or at least such as will serve my turn
well, in my bundle," replied Nicholas. " If you look so dis-
tressed to see me, you will add to the pain I feel already, at
being compelled, for one night, to cast myself upon your slen-
der means for aid and shelter."
Newman did not look the less distressed to hear Nicholas
talking in this strain ; but, upon his young friend grasping
him heartily by the hand, and assuring him that nothing but
iniplicit confidence in the sincerity of his professions, and
kindness of feeling towards himself, would have induced him,
176
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
on any consideration, even to have made him acquainted with
his arrival in London, Mr. Noggs brightened up again, and
went about making such arrangements as were in his power
for the comfort of liis visitors, with extreme alacrity.
These were simple enough ; poor Newman's means halt-
ing at a very considerable distance short of his inclinations ;
but, slight as they were, they were not made without much
bustling and running about. As Nicholas liad husbanded his
scanty stock of money so well that it was not yet quite ex-
pended, a supper of bread and cheese, with some cold beef
from the cook's shop, was soon placed upon the table ; and
these viands being flanked by a bottle of spirits and a pot of
porter, there was no ground for apprehension on the score of
hunger or thirst, at all events. Such preparations as New-
man had it in his power to make, for the accommodation of
his guests during the night, occupied no ver}^ great time in
completing ; and as he had insisted, as an express prelimi-
nary, that Nicholas should change his clothes, and that Smike
should invest himself in his solitary coat (which no entreaties
would dissuade him from stripping off for the purpose), the
travellers partook of their frugal fare, with more satisfaction
than one of them at least had derived from many a better
meal.
They drew near the fire, which Newman Noggs had made
up as well as he could, after the inroads of Crowl upon the
fuel ; and Nicholas, who had hitherto been restrained by the
extreme anxiety of his friend that he should refresh himself
after his journey, now pressed him with earnest questions con-
cerning his mother and sister.
" Well ; " replied Newman, with his accustomed taciturnity ;
" both well."
" They are living in the city still t " inquired Nicholas.
"They are," said Newman.
" And my sister " — added Nicholas. " Is she still engaged
in the business which she wrote to tell me she thought she
should like so much t "
Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but
merely replied by a gasp, which according to the action of the
head that accompanied it, was interpreted by his friends as
meaning yes or no. In the present instance, the pantomime
consisted of a nod, and not a shake ; so Nicholas took the
answer as a favorable one.
" Now listen to me," said Nicholas, laying his hand on
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
177
Newman's shoulder. " Before I would make an effort to see
them, 1 deemed it expedient to come to you, lest, by gratifying
my own selfish desire, I should inflict an injury upon tliem
which 1 can never repair. What has my uncle heard from
Yorkshire .' "
Newman opened and shut his mouth, several times, as
though he were trying his utmost to speak, but could make
nothing of it, and finally fixed his eyes on Nicholas with a grim
and ghastly stare.
" What has he heard ? " urged Nicholas, coloring. " You
see that 1 am prepared to hear the very worst that malice can
have suggested. Why should you conceal it from me ? I
must know it sooner or later ; and what purpose can be gained
by trifling with the matter for a few minutes, when half the
time would put me in possession of all that has occurred .''
Tell me at once, pray."
"To-morrow morning," said Newman; "hear it to-mor-
row."
" What purpose would that answer ? " urged Nicholas.
" You would sleep the better," replied Newman.
" I should sleep the worse," answered Nicholas, impa-
tiently. " Sleep ! Exhausted as I am, and standing in no
common need of rest, I cannot hope to close my eyes all night,
unless you tell me everything."
"And if I should tell you everything," said Newman hesi-
tating.
" Why, then you may rouse my indignation or wound my
pride," rejoined Nicholas ; " but you will not break my rest;
for if the scene were acted over again, I could take no other
part than I have taken ; and whatever consequences may ac-
crue to myself from it, I shall never regret doing as I have
done — never, if I starve or beg in consequence. What is a
little poverty or suffering, to the disgrace of the basest and
most inhuman cowardice ? I tell you, if I had stood by, tamely
and passively, I should have hated myself, and merited the
contempt of every man in existence. The black-hearted
scoundrel ! "
With this gentle allusion to the absent Mr. Squeers,
Nicholas repressed his rising wrath, and relating to Newman
exactly what had passed at Dotheboys Hall, entreated him to
speak out without more pressing. Thus adjured, Mr. Noggs
took, from an old trunk, a sheet of paper, which appeared to
have been scrawled over in great haste ; and after sundry
12
1 7 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
extraojdinary demonstrations of reluctance, delivered himself
in the following terms.
" My dear young man, you mustn't give way to — this sort
of thing will never do, you know — -as to getting on in the
world, if you take everybody's part that's ill-treated — Damn
it, I am proud to hear of it ; and would have done it my-
self ! "
Newman accompanied this very unusual outbreak with a
violent blow upon the table, as if, in the heat of the moment,
he had mistaken it for the chest or ribs of Mr. Wackford
Squeers. Having, by this open declaration of his feelings,
quite precluded himself from offering Nicholas any cautious
worldly advice (which had been his first intention), Mr. Noggs
went straight to the point.
" The day before yesterday," said Newman, " your uncle
received this letter. I took a hasty copy of it, while he was
out. Shall I read it ? "
" If you please," replied Nicholas. Newman Noggs ac-
cordingly read as follows :
" Dotheboys Hall,
" Thursday Alorning.
" Sir.
" My pa requests me to write to you, the doctors con-
sidering it doubtful whether he will ever recuvver the use of
his legs, which prevents his holding a pen.
" We are in a state of mind beyond everything, and my pa
is one mask of brooses both blue and green likewise two forms
are steepled in his Goar. We were kimpelled to have him
carried down into the kitchen where he now lays. You will
judge from this that he has been brought very low.
" When your nevew that you recommended for a teacher
had done this to my pa and jumped upon his body with his
feet and also langwedge which I will not pollewt my pen with
describing, he assaulted my ma with dreadful violence, dashed
her to the earth, and drove her back comb several inches into
her head. A very little more and it must have entered her
skull. We have a medical certihket that if it had, the torter-
shell would have affected the brain.
" Me and my brother were then the victims of liis feury
since which we have suffered very much which leads us to the
arrowing belief tiiatwe have received some injury in our insides,
especially as no marks of violence are visible externally. I am
screaming out loud all the 'time I write and so is my brother
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 1 79
which takes off my attention rather and I hope will excuse
mistakes.
" The monster having sasiated his thirst for blood ran
away, taking with him a boy of desperate caracter that he had
excited to rebellyon, and a garnet ring belonging to my ma,
and not having been apprehended by the constables is sup-
posed to have been took up by some stage-coach. My pa begs
that if he comes to you the ring may be returned, and that
you will let the thief and assassin go, as if we prosecuted him
he would only be transported, and if he is let go he is sure to
be hung before long which will save us trouble and be much
more satisfactory. Hoping to hear from you when conve-
nient.
" I remain
" Yours and cetrer
'* Fanny Squeers.
" P.S. I pity his ignorance and despise him."
A profound silence succeeded to the reading of this choice
epistle, during which Newman Noggs, as he folded it up,
gazed with a kind of grotesque pity at the boy of desperate
character therein referred to ; who, having no more distinct
perception of the matter in hand, than that he had been the
unfortunate cause of heaping trouble and falsehood upon Nich-
olas, sat mute and dispirited, with a most woe-begone and
heart-stricken look.
" Mr. Noggs," said Nicholas, after a few moments' reflec-
tion, " I must go out at once."
" Go out ! " cried Newman.
" Yes," said Nicholas, " to Golden Square. Nobody who
knows me would believe this story of the ring ; but it may
suit the purpose, or gratify the hatred of Mr. Ralph Nickleby
to feign to attach credence to it. It is due — not to him, but
to myself — that I should state the truth ; and moreover, I have
a word or two to exchange with him, which will not keep cool."
"They must," said Newman.
"They must not, indeed," rejoined Nicholas firmly, as he
prepared to leave the house.
" Hear me speak," said Newman, planting himself before
his impetuous young friend. " He is not there. He is away
from town. He will not be back for three davs ; and I know
that letter will not be answered before he returns."
1 8o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Are you sure of this ? " asked Nicholas, chafing violently,
and pacing the narrow room with rapid strides.
"Quite," rejoined Newman. "He had hardly read it
when he was called away. Its contents are known to nobody
but himself and us."
"Are you certain?" demanded Nicholas, hastily; "not
even to my mother or sister ? If I thought that they — I will go
there — I must see them. Which is the way ? Where is it .•' "
" Now, be advised by me," said Newman, speaking for the
moment, in his earnestness, like any other man — " make no
effort to see even them, till he comes home. I know the man.
Do not seem to have been tampering with anybody. When
he returns, go straight to him, and speak as boldly as you like.
Guessing at the real truth, he knows it as well as you or I.
Trust him for that."
" You mean well to me, and should know him better than
I can," replied Nicholas, after some consideration. " Well ;
let it be so."
Newman, who had stood during the foregoing conversation
with his back planted against the door, ready to oppose any
egress from the ajDartment by force, if necessary, resumed his
seat with much satisfaction ; and as the water in the kettle
was by this time boiling, made a glassful of spirits and water
for Nicholas, and a cracked mug-full for the joint accom-
modation of himself and Smike, of which the two partook
in great harmony, while Nicholas, leaning his head upon his
hand, remained buried in melancholy meditation.
Meanwhile, the company below stairs, after listening atten-
tively and not hearing any noise which would justify them in
interfering for the gratification of their curiosity, returned to
the chamber of the Kenwigses, and employed themselves in
hazarding a great variety of conjectures relative to the cause
of Mr. Noggs's sudden disappearance and detention.
" Lor, I'll tell you what ; " said Mrs. Kenwigs. " Suppose
it should be an express sent up to say that his property has all
come back again .'' "
"Dear me," said Mr. Kenwigs; "it's not impossible.
Perhaps, in that case, we'd better send up and ask if he won't
take a little more punch."
" Kenwigs ! " said Mr. Lillyvick, in a loud voice, " I'm
sur] r'sed at you."
'■ What's the matter, sir ? " asked Mr. Kenwigs, with be-
coming submission to the collector of water-rates.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y 1 8 1
"Making such aremark as that, sir," replied Mr. Lillyvick,
angrily. " He has had punch already, has he not, sir ? I
consider the way in which that punch was cut off, if I may use
the expression, highly disrespectful to this company ; scandal-
ous, perfectly scandalous. It may be the custom to allow such
things in this house, but it's not the kind of behavior that I've
been used to see displayed, and so I don't mind telling you,
Kenwigs. A gentleman has a glass of punch before him to
which he is just about to set his lips, when another gentleman
comes and collars that glass of punch, without a 'with your
leave,' or 'by your leave,' and carries that glass of punch
away. This may be good manners — I dare say it is — but I
don't understand it, that's all ; and what's more, I don't care
if I never do. It's my way to speak my mind, Kenwigs, and
that is my mind ; and if you don't like it, it's past my regular
time for going to bed, and I can find my way home without
making it later."
Here was an untoward event ! The collector had sat sw'el-
ling and fuming in offended dignity for some minutes, and had
now fairly burst out. The great man — the rich relation — the
unmarried uncle— who had it in his power to make Morleena
an heiress, and the very baby a legatee — was offended. Gra-
cious Powers, where was this to end !
" I am very sorry, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs, humbly.
" Don't tell me you're sorr}-," retorted Mr. Lillyvick,
with much sharpness. "You should have prevented it,
then."
The company were quite paralyzed by this domestic crash.
The back parlor sat with her mouth wide open, staring vacantly
at the collector, in a stupor of dismay; the other guests were
scarcely less overpowered by the great man's irritation. Mr.
Kenwigs, not being skilful in such matters, only fanned the
flame in attempting to extinguish it.
" I didn't think of it, I am sure, sir," said that gentleman.
" I didn't suppose that such a little thing as a glass of punch
would have put you out of temper."
" Out of temper ! What the devil do you mean bv that
piece of impertinence, Mr. Kenwigs.-*" said the collector.
"Morleena, child — give me my hat."
" Oh, you're not going, Mr. Lillyvick, sir," interposed Miss
Petowker, with her most bewitching smile.
But still Mr. Lilly\-ick, regardless of the siren, cried ob-
durately, " Morleena, my hat ! " upon the fourth repetition of
1 82 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
which demand, Mrs. Kenwigs sunk back in her chair, with a
cry that might have softened a water-butt, not to say a water-
collector ; while the four little girls (privately instructed to
that effect) clasped their uncle's drab shorts in their arms, and
prayed him, in imperfect English, to remain.
" Why should I stop here, my dears ? " said Mr. Lillyvick ;
"I'm not wanted here."
'' Oh do not speak so cruelly, uncle," sobbed Mrs. Ken-
wigs, " unless you wish to kill me."
" I shouldn't wonder if some people were to say I did,"
replied Mr. Lill}^'ick, glancing angrily at Kenwigs. " Out of
temper ! "
" Oh ! I cannot bear to see him look so at my husband,"
cried Mrs. Kenwigs. " It's so dreadful in families. Oh ! "
" Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs, " I hope, for the sake of
your niece, that you won't object to be reconciled."
The collector's features relaxed, as the company added
their entreaties to those of his nephew-in-law. He gave up
his hat, and held out his hand.
" There, Kenwigs," said Mr. Lillyvick ; " and let me tell
you, at the same time, to show you how much out of temper
I was, that if I had gone away without another word, it would
have made no difference respecting that pound or two which
1 shall leave among your children when I die."
" Morleena Kenwigs," cried her mother, in a torrent of
affection. " Go down upon your knees to your dear uncle,
and beg him to love you all his life through, for he's more a
angel than a man, and I've always said so."
Miss Morleena approaching to do homage, in compliance
with this injunction, was summarily caught up and kissed by
Mr. Lillyvick ; and thereupon Mrs. Kenwigs darted forward
and kissed the collector, and an irrepressible murmur of ap-
plause broke from the company who had witnessed his mag-
nanimity.
The worthy gentleman then became once more the life and
soul of the society ; being again reinstated in his old post of
lion from which high station the temporary distraction of their
thoughts had for a moment dispossessed him. Quadruped
lions are said to be savage, only when they are hungry ; biped
lions are rarely sulky longer than when their appetite for dis-
tinction remains unappeased. Mr. Lillyvick stood higher than
ever ; for he had shown his power ; hinted at his property and
testamentary intentions ; gained great credit for disinterested-
JVICHOLAS JVICKLEB Y. 183
ness and virtue ; and, in addition to all, was finally accom-
modated with a much larger tumbler of punch than that which
Newman Noggs had so feloniously made off with.
"I say! I beg everybody's pardon for intruding again,"
said Crowl, looking in at this happy juncture ; "but what a
queer business this is, isn't it ? Noggs has lived in this house,
now going on for five years, and nobody has ever been to see
him before, within the memory of the oldest inhabitant."
" It's a strange time of night to be called away, sir, cer- j
tainly," said the collector ; " and the behavior of Mr. NoggsJ
himself, is, to say the least of it, mysterious." __
"Well, so it is," rejoined Crowl ; " and I'll tell you what's \
more^ think' thegfe"Tirrrggnitist;s,- whoexTrTtTey' aYeT'Tiave l^n, J
away from somewhere."
" What makes you think that, sir ? " demanded the collector,
who seemed, by a tacit understanding, to have been chosen
and elected mouthpiece to the company. " You have no
reason to suppose that they have run away from anywhere
without paying the rates and taxes due, I hope .'' "
Mr. Crowl, with a look of some contempt, was about to
enter a general protest against the payment of rates or taxes,
under any circumstances, when he was checked by a timely
whisper from Kenwigs, and several frowns and winks from
Mrs. K., which providentially stopped him.
"Why the fact is," said Crowl, who had been listening at
Newman's door, with all his might and main ; " the fact is,
that they have been talking so loud, that they quite disturbed
me in my room, and so I couldn't help catching a word here,
and a word there ; and all I heard, certainly seemed to refer
to their having bolted from some place or other. I don't wish
to alarm Mrs. Kenwigs ; but I hope they haven't come from
any jail or hospital, and brought away a fever or some un-
pleasantness of that sort, which might be catching for the
children."
Mrs. Kenwigs was so overpowered by this supposition,
that it needed all the tender attentions of Miss Petowker, of
the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, to restore her to anything like
a state of calmness ; not to mention the assiduity of Mr. Ken-
wigs, who held a fat smelling-bottle to his lady's nose, until it
became matter of some doubt whether the tears which coursed
down her face, were the result of feelings or sal volatile.
The ladies, having expressed their sympathy, sinsly and
separately, fell, according to custom, into a little chorus of
i84
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
soothing expressions, among which, such condolences as
" Poor dear ! " — " I should feel just the same, if I was her "
— " To be sure, it's a very trying thing " — and " Nobody but
a mother knows what a mother's feelings is," were among the
most prominent, and most frequently repeated. In short, the
opinion of the company was so clearly manifested, that Mr.
Kenwigs was on the point of repairing to Mr. Noggs's room,
to demand an explanation, and had indeed swallowed a pre-
paratory glass of punch, with great inflexibility and steadiness
of purpose, when the attention of all present was diverted by
a new and terrible surprise,
This was nothing less than the sudden pouring forth of a
rapid succession of the shrillest and most piercing screams,
from an upper story ; and to all appearance from the very •
two-pair back, in which the infant Kenwigs was at that moment
enshrined. They were no sooner audible, than Mrs. Kenwigs,
opining that a strange cat had come in, and sucked the baby's
breath while the girl was asleep, made for the door, wringing
her hands, and shrieking dismally ; to the great consternation
and confusion of the company.
" Mr. K-enwigs, see what it is ; make haste ! " cried the
sister, laying violent hands upon Mrs. Kenwigs, and holding
her back by force. " Oh don't twist about so, dear, or I can
never hold you."
" My baby, my blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed baby ! "
screamed Mrs. Kenwigs, making every blessed louder than
the last. " My own darling, sweet, innocent Lillyvick — Oh
let me go to him. Let me go-o-o-o ! "
Pending the utterance of these frantic cries, and the wails
■and lamentations of the four little girls, Mr. Kenwigs rushed
up stairs to the room whence the sounds proceeded ; at the
door of which, he encountered Nicholas, with the child in his
arms, who darted out with such violence, that the anxious
father was thrown down six stairs, and alighted on the nearest
landing-place, before he had found time to open his mouth to
ask what was the matter.
r -" Don't be alarmed," cried Nicholas, running down;
/"here it is ; it's all out, it's all over ; pray compose yci. elves ;
( there's no harm done ; " and with these, and a thousa. a other
assurances, he delivered the baby (whom, in his hurry, he
had carried upside down), to Mrs. Kenwigs, and ran back to
assist Mr. Kenwigs, who was rubbing his head very hard, and
looking much bewildered by his tumble.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 185
Reassured by this cheering intelligence, the company in
some degree recovered from their fears, which had been pro-
ductiv'e of some most singular instances of a total want of
presence of mind ; thus, the bachelor friend had, for a long
time, supported in his arms Mrs. Kenwigs's sister, instead of
Mrs. Kenwigs ; and the worthy Mr. Lillyvickhad been actually
seen, in the perturbation of his spirits, to kiss Miss Petowker
several times, behind the room door, as calmly as if nothing
distressing were going forward.
" It's a mere nothing," said Nicholas, returning to Mrs.
Kenwigs ; " the little girl, who was watching the child, being
tired I suppose, fell asleep, and set her hair on fire." '
" Oh you malicious little wretch ! " cried Mrs. Kenwigs,
impressively shaking her forefinger at the small unfortunate,
who might be thirteen years old, and was looking on with a
singed head and a frightened face.
" I heard her cries," continued Nicholas, " and ran down,
in time to prevent her setting fire to anything else. You may
depend upon it that the child is not hurt ; for I took it off the
bed myself, and brought it here to convince you."
This brief explanation over, the infant, who, as he was
christened after the collector, rejoiced in the names of Lilly-
vick Kenwigs, was partially suffocated under the caresses of
the audience, and squeezed to his mother's bosom, until he
roared again. The attention of the company was then directed,
by a natural transition, to the little girl who had had the
audacity to burn her hair off, and who, after receiving sundry
small slaps and pushes from the more energetic of the ladies,
was mercifully sent home ; the ninepence, with which she was to
have been rewarded, being escheated to the Kenwigs family.
" And whatever we are to say to you, sir," exclaimed Mrs.
Kenwigs, addressing young Lillyvick's deliverer " I am sure
I don't know."
"You need say nothing at all," replied Nicholas, "I
have done nothing to found any very strong claim upon your
eloquence, I am sure."
" He might have been burnt to death, if it hadn't been for
you, sir," simpered Miss Petowker.
"Not very likely, I think," replied Nicholas; "for there
was abundance of assistance here, which must have reached
him before he had been in any danger."
" You will let us drink your health, anyvays, sir ! " said
Mr. Kenwigs, motioning towards the table.
1 86 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" — In my absence, by all means," rejoined Nicholas, with
a smile. " I have had a very fatiguing journey, and should
be most indifferent company — a far greater check upon your
merriment, than a promoter, of it, even if I kept awake, which
I think very doubtful. If you will allow me, I'll return to my
friend, Mr. Noggs, who went up stairs again, when he found
nothing serious had occurred. Good-night."
Excusing himself, in these terms, from joining in the fes-
tivities, Nicholas took a most winning farewell of Mrs. Ken-
wigs and the other ladies, and retired, after making a very
extraordinary impression upon the company.
"What a delightful young man ! " cried Mrs. Kenwigs.
" Uncommon gentlemanly, really," said Mr. Kenwigs.
" Don't you think so, Mr. Lillyvick .?'"
" Yes," said the collector, with a dubious shrug of his
shoulders. '* He is gentlemanly, very gentlemanly — in appear-
ance."
" I hope you don't see anything against him, uncle ? " in-
quired Mrs. Kenwigs.
" No, my dear," replied the collector, "no. I trust he
may not turn out — well — no matter — my love to you, my dear,
and long life to the baby ! "
" Your namesake," said Mrs. Kenwigs, with a sweet smile.
" And I hope a worthy namesake," observed Mr. Kenwigs,
willmg to propitiate the collector. "I hope a baby as will
never disgrace his godfather, and as may be considered, in
arter years, of a piece with the Lillyvicks whose name he bears.
I do say — and Mrs. Kenwigs is of the same sentiment, and feels
it as strong as I do— that I consider his being called Lillyvick
one of the greatest blessings and honors of my existence."
" 7%^ greatest blessing, Kenwigs," murmured his lady.
" The greatest blessing," said Mr. Kenwigs, correcting
himself. " A blessing that I hope, one of these days, I may
be able to deserve."
This was a politic stroke of the Kenwigses, because it
made Mr. Lillyvick the great head and fountain of the baby's
importance. The good gentleman felt the delicacv and dex-
terity of the touch, and at once proposed the health of the
gentleman, name unknown, who had signalized himself, that
night, by his coolness and alacrity.
"Who, I don't mind saying," observed Mr. Lillyvick, as a
great concession, " is a good-looking young man enough, with
manners that I hope his character may be equal to."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 187
" He has a very nice face and style, really," said Mrs.
Ken wigs.
"lie certainly has," added Miss Petowker. "There's
something in his appearance quite — dear, dear, what's that
word again ? "
" What word ? " inquired Mr. Lillyvick.
"Why — dear me, how stupid I am," replied Miss Petow-
ker, hesitating. " What do you call it, when Lords break off
door-knockers and beat policemen, and play at coaches with
other people's money, and all that sort of thing ? "
" Aristocratic t " suggested the collector.
" Ah ! aristocratic," replied Miss Petowker ; " something
very aristocratic about him, isn't there ? "
The gentlemen held their peace, and smiled at each other,
as who should say, " Well ! there's no accounting for tastes ; "
but the ladies resolved unanimously that Nicholas had an
aristocratic air ; and nobody caring to dispute the position, it
was established triumphantly.
The punch being, by this time, drunk out, and the little
Kenwigses (who had for some time previously held their little
eyes open with their little fore-fingers) becoming fractious,
and requesting rather urgently to be put to bed, the collector
made a move by pulling out his watch, and acquainting the
company that it was nigh two o'clock ; whereat some of the
guests were surprised and others shocked, and hats and
bonnets being groped for under the tables, and in course of
time found, their owners went away, after a vast deal of
shaking of hands, and many remarks how they had never
spent such a delightful evening, and how they marvelled to
find it so late, expecting to have heard that it was half-past
ten at the very latest, and how they wished that Mr. and Mrs.
Kenwigs had a wedding-day once a week, and how they
wondered by what hidden agency Mrs. Kenwigs could
possibly have managed so well ; and a great deal more of the
same kind. To allof which flattering expressions, Mr. and
Mrs. Kenwigs replied, by thanking every lady and gentleman,
seriatim, for the favor of their company, and hoping they
might have enjoyed themselves only half as well as they said
they had.
As to Nicholas, quite unconscious of the impression he
had produced, he had long since fallen asleep, leaving Mr.
Newman Noggs and Smike to empty the spirit bottle between
them ; and this office they performed with such extreme good
1 88 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
will, that Newman was equally at a loss to determine whether
he himself was quite sober, and whether he had ever seen
any gentleman so heavily, drowsily, and completely intoxi-
cated, as his new acquaintance.
CHAPTER XVI.
NICHOLAS SEEKS TO EMPLOY HIMSELF IN A NEW CAPACITY,
AND BEING UNSUCCESSFUL, ACCEPTS AN ENGAGEMENT AS
TUTOR IN A PRIVATE FAMILY.
The first care of Nicholas, next morning, was, to look
after some room in which, until better times dawned upon
him, he could contrive to exist, without trenching upon the
hospitality of Newman Noggs, who would have slept upon the
stairs with pleasure, so that his young friend was accom-
modated.
The vacant apartment to which the bill in the parlor
window bore reference, appeared, on inquiry, to be a small
back room on the second floor, reclaimed from the leads, and
overlooking a soot-bespeckled prospect of tiles and chimney-
pots. For the letting of this portion of the house from week
to week, on reasonable terms, the parlor lodger was em-
powered to treat ; he being deputed by the landlord to
dispose of the rooms as they became vacant, and to keep a
sharp look-out thai the lodgers didn't run away. As a means
of securing the punctual discharge of which last service he
was permitted to live rent-free, lest he should at any time be
tempted to run away himself.
Of this chamber, Nicholas became the tenant ; and having
hired a few common articles of furniture from a neighboring
broker, and paid the first week's hire in advance, out of a
small fund raised by the conversion of some spare clothes into
ready money, he sat himself down to ruminate upon his
prospects, which, like the prospect outside his window, were
sufficiently confined and dingy. As they by no means
improved on better acquaintance, and as familiarity breeds
contempt, he resolved to banish them from his thoughts by
dint of hard walking. So, taking up his hat, and leaving poor
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 189
Smike to arrange and re-arrange the room, with as much
delight as if it had been the costhest palace, he betook him-
self to the streets, and mingled with the crowd which thronged
them.
Although a man may lose a sense of his own importance
when he is a mere unit among a busy throng, all utterly
regardless of him, it by no means follows that he can dis-
possess himself, with equal facility, of a very strong sense of
the importance and magnitude of his cares. The unhappy
state of his own affairs was the one idea which occupied the
brain of Nicholas, walk as fast as he would ; and when he
tried to dislodge it by speculating on the situation and pros-
pects of the people who surrounded him, he caught himself,
in a few seconds, contrasting their condition with his own,
and gliding almost imperceptibly back into his old train of
tlTought again.
Occupied m these reflections, as he was making his way
along one of the great public thoroughfares of London, he
chanced to raise his eyes to a blue board, whereon was
inscribed, in characters of gold, "General Agency Office ; for
places and situations of all kinds inquire within." It was a
shop-front, fitted up with a gauze blind and an inner door ;
and in the window hung a long and tempting array of written
placards, announcing vacant places of every grade, from a
secretary's to a footboy's.''
Nicholas halted, instinctively, before this temple of
promise, and ran his eye over the capital-text openings in life
which were so profusely displayed. When he had completed
his survey he walked on a little way, and then back, and then
on again ; at length, after pausing irresolutely several times
before the door of the General Agency Office, he made up his
mind, and stepped in.
He found himself in a little floor-clothed room, with a high
desk railed of! in one corner, behind which sat a lean youth
with cunning eyes and a protruding chin, whose performances
in capital-text darkened the window. He had a thick ledger
lying open before him, and with the fingers of his right hand
inserted between the leaves, and his eyes fixed on a very fat
old lady in a mob-cap — evidently the proprietress of the
establishment — who was airing herself at the fire, seemed to
be only waiting her directions to refer to some entries con-
tained within its rusty clasps.
As there was a board outside, which acquainted the public
igo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
that servants-of-all-work were perpetually in waiting to be hired
from ten till four, Nicholas knew at once that some half-dozen
strong young women, each with pattens and an umbrella, who
were sitting upon a form in one corner, were in attendance
for that purpose, especially as the poor things looked anxious
and weary. He was not quite so certain of the callings and
stations of two smart young ladies who were in conversation
with the fat lady before the ,fire, until — having sat himself
down in a corner, and remarked that he would wait until the
other customers had been served — the fat lady resumed the
dialogue which his entrance had interrupted.
"Cook, Tom," said the fat lady, still airing herself as
aforesaid.
" Cook," said Tom, turning over some leaves of the ledger.
"Well!"
" Read out an easy place or two," said the fat lady.
" Pick out very light ones, if you please, young man,"
interposed a genteel female, in shepherd's-plaid boots, who
appeared to be the client.
"'Mrs. Marker,'" said Tom, reading, "' Russell Place,
Russell Square ; offers eighteen guineas ; tea and sugar found.
Two in family and see very little company. Five servants
kept. No man. No followers.' "
"Oh Lor! " tittered the client. " That won't do. Read
another, young man, will you } "
"'Mrs. Wrymug,' " said Tom, "'Pleasant Place, Fins-
bury. Wages, twelve guineas. No tea, no sugar. Serious
family ' "
"Ah! you needn't mind reading that," interrupted the
client.
"'Three serious footmen,' " said Tom, impressively.
" Three ? did you say ? " asked the client in an altered
tone.
" Three serious footmen," replied Tom. " ' Cook, housemaid
and nursemaid • each female servant required to join the Little
Bethel Congregation three times every Sunday — with a serious
footman. !f the cook is more serious than the footman, she will
be expected to improve the footman ; if tlie footman is more
serious than the cook, he will be expected to improve the
cook.' "
"I'll take the address of that place," said the client; " I
don't know but what it mightn't suit me pretty well."
" Here's another," remarked Tom, turning over the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 191
leaves ; " ' Family of Mr. Gallanbile, M. P. Fifteen guineas,
tea and sugar, and servants allowed to see male cousins, if
godly. Note. Cold dinner in the kitchen on the Sabbath,
Mr. Gallanbile being devoted to the Observance question.
No victuals whatever, cooked on the Lord's day, with the ex-
ception of dinner for Mr. and Mrs. Gallanbile, which, being a
work of piety and necessity, is exempted. Mr. Gallanbile
dines late on the day of resi, in order to prevent the sinful-
ness of the cook's dressing herself.' "
" I don't think that'll answer as well as the other," said
the client, after a little whispering with her friend. " I'll take
the other direction, if you please, young man. I can but
come back again, if it don't do."
Tom made out the address, as requested, and the genteel
client, having satisfied the fat lady with a small fee, mean-
jvhile, went away, accompanied by her friend.
As Nicholas opened his mouth, to request the young man
to turn to letter S, and let him know what secretaryships
remained undisposed of, there came into the office an appli-
cant, in whose favor he immediately retired, and whose ap-
pearance both surprised and interested him.
This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen, of
very slight and delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped, who,
walking timidly up to the desk, made an inquiry, in a very
low tone of voice, relative to some situation as governess, or
companion to a lady. She raised her veil, for an instant,
while she p/eferred the inquiry, and disclosed a countenance
of most uncommon beauty, though shaded by a cloud of sad-
ness, which, in one so young, was doubly remarkable. Hav-
ing received a card of reference to some person on the books,
she made the usual acknowledgment, and glided away.
She was neatly but very quietly attired ; so much so,
indeed, that it seemed as though her dress, if it had been
worn by one who imparted fewer graces of her own to it,
might have looked poor and shabby. Her attendant — for
she had one — was a red-faced, round-eyed, slovenly girl, who,
from a certain roughness about the bare arms that peeped
from under her draggled shawl, and the half-washed-out
traces of smut and blacklead which tattoed her countenance,
was clearly of a kin with the servants-of-all-work on the form ;
between whom and herself there had passed various grins and
glances, indicative of the freemasonry of the craft.
This girl followed her mistress ; and, before Nicholas had
I g2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
recovered from the first effects of his surprise and admiration,
the young lady was gone. It is not a matter of such complete
and utter improbability as some sober people may think, that
he would have followed them out, had he not been restrained
by what passed between the fat lady and her bookkeeper.
" When is she coming again, Tom ? " asked the fat lady.
" To-morrow morning," replied Tom, mending his pen.
" Where have you sent her to .'' " asked the fat lady.
" Mrs. Clark's,'" replied Tom.
" She'll have a nice life of it, if she goes there," obser\-ed
the fat lady, taking a pinch of snuff from a tin box.
Tom made no other reply than thrusting his tongue into
his cheek, and pointing the feather of his pen towards Nicho-
las— reminders which elicited from the fat lady an inquiry, of
"Now, sir, what can we do iox you f"
Nicholas briefly replied, that he wanted to know whether
there was any such post to be had, as secretary or amanuen-
sis to a gentleman.
" Any such ! " rejoined the mistress ; " a dozen such.
An't there, Tom ? "
" /should think so," answered that young gentleman ; and
as he said it, he winked towards Nicholas, with a degree of
familiarity which he, no doubt, intended for a rather flattering
compliment, but with which Nicholas was most ungratefully
digusted.
Upon reference to the book, it appeared that the dozen
secretaryships had dwindled down to one. Mr. Gregsbury,
the great member of Parliament, of Manchester Buildings,
Westminster, wanted a young man, to keep his papers and
correspondence in order ; and Nicholas was exactly the sort
of young man that Mr. Gregsbury wanted.
" I don't know what the terms are, as he said he'd settle
them himself with the party," observed the fat lady ; " but
they must be pretty good ones, because he's a member of
parliament."
Inexperienced as he was. Nicholas did not feel quite as-
sured of the force of this reasoning, or the justice of this
conclusion ; but without troubling himself to question it, he
took down the address, and resolved to wait upon Mr. Gregs-
bury, without delay.
" I don't know what the number is," said Tom ; " but Man-
chester Buildings isn't a large place ; and if the worst comes
to the worst, it won't take you very long to knock at all the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
193
doors on both sides of the way till you find him out. I say,
what a good-looking gal that was, wasn't she ? "
" What girl ? " demanded Nicholas, sternly.
" Oh yes. I know — what gal, eh ? " whispered Tom, shut-
ting one eye, and cocking his chin in the air. " You didn't
see her, you didn't — I say, don't you wish you was me, when
she comes to-morrow morning ? "
Nicholas looked at the ugly clerk, as if he had a mind to
reward his admiration of the young lady by beating the ledger
about his ears, but he refrained, and strode haughtily out of
the office ; setting at defiance, in his indignation, those
ancient laws of chivalry, which not only made it proper and
lawful for all good knights to hear the praise of the ladies to
whom they were devoted, but rendered it incumbent upon
them to roam about the world, and knock at head all such
matter-of-fact and unpoetical characters, as declined to exalt,
above all the earth, damsels whom they had never chanced to
look upon or hear of — as if that were any excuse !
Thinking no longer of his own misfortunes, but wondering
what could be those of the beautiful girl he had seen, Nicho-
las, with many wrong turns, and many inquiries, and almost
as many misdirections, bent his steps towards the place
whither he had been directed.
Within the precincts of the ancient city of Westminster,
and within half a quarter of a mile of its ancient sanctuary, is
a narrow and dirty region, the sanctuary of the smaller mem-
bers of Parliament in modern days. It is all comprised in
one street of gloomy lodging-houses, from whose windows, in
vacation-time, there frown long melancholy rows of bills,
which say, as plainly as did the countenances of their occupi-
ers, ranged on ministerial and opposition benches in the ses-
sion which slumbers with its fathers. " To Let," " To Let."
In busier periods of the year these bills disappear, and the
houses swarm with legislators. There are legislators in the
parlors, in the first floor, in the second, in the third, in the
garrets ; the small apartments reek with the breath of deputa-
tions and delegates. In damp weather, the place is rendered
close, by the steams of moist acts of Parliament and frowsy
petitions ; general postmen grow faint as they entered its
infected limits, and shabby figures in quest of franks, flit rest-
lessly to and fro like the troubled ghosts of Complete Letter-
writers departed. This is Manchester Buildings ; and here,
at all hours of the night, may be heard the rattling of latch-
194 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
keys in their respective keyholes : with now and then — when
a gust of wind sweeping across the water which washes the
Buildings' feet, impels the sound towards its entrance — the
weak, shrill voice of some young member practising to-mor-
row's speech. All the livelong day, there is a grinding of
organs and clashing and clanging of little boxes of music ;
for Manchester Buildings is an eel-pot, which has no outlet
but its awkward mouth — a case-bottle which has no thorough-
fare, and a short and narrow neck — and in this respect it
may be typical of the fate of some few among its more adven-
turous residents, who, after wriggling themselves into Parlia-
ment by violent efforts and contortions, find that it, too, is no
thoroughfare for them ; that, like Manchester Buildings, it
leads to nothing beyond itself ; and that they are fain at last
to back out, no wiser, no richer, not one whit more famous,
than they went in.
Into Manchester Buildings Nicholas turned, with the ad-
dress of the great Mr. Gregsbury in his hand. As there was
a stream of people pouring into a shabby house not far from
the entrance, he waited until they had made their way in, and
then making up to the servant, ventured to inquire if he knew
where Mr. Gregsbury lived.
The servant was a very pale, shabby boy, who looked as
if he had slept underground from his infancy, as very likely
he had. " Mr. Gregsbury ? " said he ; " Mr. Gregsbury
lodges here. It's all right. Come in ! "
Nicholas thought he might as well get in while he could,
so in he walked ; and he had no sooner done so, than the boy
shut the door, and made off.
This was odd enough ; but what was more embarrassing
was, that all along the passage, and all along the narrow stairs,
blocking up the window, and making the dark entry darker
still, was a confused crowd of persons with great importance
depicted in their looks ; who were, to all appearance, waiting
in silent expectation of some coming event. From time to
time, one man would whisper his neighbor, or a little group
would whisper together, and then the whisperers would nod
fiercely to each other, or give their heads a relentless shake,
as if they were bent upon doing something very desperate, and
were determined not to be put off, whatever happened.
As a few minutes elapsed without anything occurring to
explain this phenomenon, and as he felt his own position a
peculiarly uncomfortable one, Nicholas was on the point of
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
195
seeking some information from the man next him, when a
sudden move was visible on the stairs, and a voice was heard
to cry, " Now, gentlemen, have the goodness to walk up ! "
So far from walking up, the gentlemen on the stairs began
to walk down with great alacrity, and to entreat, with extraor-
dinary politeness, that the gentlemen nearest the street
would go first ; the gentlemen nearest the street retorted, with
equal courtesy, that they couldn't think of such a thing on any
account ; but they did it, without thinking of it, inasmuch as
the other gentlemen pressing some half-dozen (among whom
was Nicholas) forward, and closing up behind, pushed them,
not merely up the stairs, but into the very sitting-room of Mr.
Gregsbury, which they were thus compelled to enter with most
unseemly precipitation, and without the means of retreat ; the
press behind them, more than filling the apartment.
" Gentlemen," said Mr. Gregsbury, " you are welcome.
I am rejoiced to see }'ou."
^ For a gentleman who was rejoiced to see a body of visi-
tors, Mr. Gregsbury looked as uncomfortable as might be ;
but perhaps this was occasioned by senatorial gravity, and a
statesmanlike habit of keeping his feelings under control. He
was a tough, burly, thick-headed gentleman, with a loud voice,
a pompous manner, a tolerable command of sentences with
no meaning in them, and, in short, every requisite for a very
good member indeed.
" Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Gregsbury, tossing a great
bundle of papers into a wicker basket at his feet, and throw-
ing himself back in his chair with his arms over the elbows,
" you are dissatisfied with my conduct, I see by the news-
papers."
" Yes, Mr. Gregsbury, we are," said a plump old gentle-
man in a violent heat, bursting out of the throng, and jjlant-
ing himself in the front.
" Do my eyes deceive me," said Mr. Gregsbury, looking
towards the speaker, "or is that my old friend Pugstyles .'' "
" I am that man, and no other, sir," replied the plump old
gentleman.
" Give me your hand, my worthy friend," said Mr. Gregs-
bury. " Pugstyles, my dear friend, I am very sorry to see you
here."
"I am very sorry to be here, sir," said Mr. Pugstyles;
" but your conduct, Mr. Gregsbury, has rendered this deputa-
tion from your constituents, imperatively necessary."
196
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" My conduct, Pugstyles," said Mr. Gregsbur}% looking
round upon the deputation with gracious magnanimity — " My
conduct has been, and ever will be, regulated by a sincere
regard for the true and real interests of this great and happy
country. Whether I look at home, or abroad ; whether I be-
hold the peaceful industrious communities of our island home :
her rivers covered with steamboats, her roads with locomo-
tives, her streets with cabs, her skies with balloons of a power
and magnitude hitherto unknown in the history of aeronautics
in this or any other nation — I say, whether I look merely at
home, or, stretching my eyes farther, contemplate the bound-
less prospect of conquest and possession — achieved by British
perseverance and British valor — which is outspread before
me, I clasp my hands, and turning my eyes to the broad ex-
panse above my head, exclaim, ' Thank Heaven, I am a
Briton ! ' "
The time had been, when this burst of enthusiasm would
have been cheered to the very echo \ but now, the deputation
received it with chilling coldness. The general impression
seemed to be, that as an explanation of Mr. Gregsbury's po-
litical conduct, it did not enter quite enough into detail ; and
one gentleman in the rear did not scruple to remark aloud,
that, for his purpose, it savored rather too much of a " gam-
mon " tendency.
" The meaning of that term — gammon," said Mr. Gregs-
bury, " is unknown to me. If it means that I grow a little too
fervid, or perhaps even hyperbolical, in extolling my native
land, I admit the full justice of the remark. I am proud of this
free and happy country. My form dilates, my eye glistens,
my breast heaves, my heart swells, my bosom burns, when I
call to mind her greatness and her glory."
"We wish, sir," remarked Mr. Pugstyles, calmly, "to ask
you a few questions."
" If you please, gentlemen ; my time is yours — and my
country's — and my country's — " said Mr. Gregsbury.
This permission being conceded, Mr. Pugstyles put on his
spectacles, and referred to a written paper which he drew
from his pocket ; whereupon nearly every other member of
the deputation pulled a written paper from his pocket, to
check Mr. Pugstyles off, as he read the questions.
This done, Mr. Pugstyles proceeded to business.
" Question number one. — Whether, sir, you did not give a
a voluntary pledge previous to your election, that in event of
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 197
your being returned, you would immediately put down the
practice of coughing and groaning in the House of Commons ?
And whether you did not submit to be coughed and groaned
down in the very first debate of the session, and have since
made no effort to effect a reform in this respect ? Whether
you did not also pledge yourself to astonish the government,
and make them shrink in their shoes ? And whether you
have astonished them, and made them shrink in their shoes,
or not ? "
" Go on to the next one, my dear Pugstyles," said Mr.
Gregsbury.
" Have you any explanation to offer with reference to that
question, sir ? " asked Mr. Pugstyles.
" Certainly not," said Mr. Gregsbury.
The members of the deputation looked fiercely at each
other, and afterwards at the member. "Dear Pugstyles"
having taken a very long stare at Mr. Gregsbury over the tops
of his spectacles, resumed his list of inquiries.
" Question number two. — Whether, sir, you did not like-
wise give a voluntary pledge that you would support your col-
league on every occasion ; and whether you did not, the night
before last, desert him and vote upon the other side, because
the wife of a leader on that other side had invited Mrs. Gregs-
bury to an evening party ? "
"Go on," said Mr. Gregsbury
" Nothing to say on that, either, sir ?" asked the spokes-
man.
" Nothing whatever," replied Mr. Gregsbury. The depu-
tation, who had only seen him at canvassing or election time,
were struck dumb by his coolness. He didn't appear like the
same man ; then he was all milk and honey ; now he was all
starch and vinegar. But men are so different at different
times !
" Question number three — and last — " said Mr. Pugstyles,
emphatically. " Whether, sir, you did not state upon the
husthigs, that it was your firm and determined intention to
oppose everything proposed ; to divide the house upon every
question, to move for returns on every subject, to place a mo-
tion on the books every day, and, in short, in your own mem-
orable words, to play the very devil with everything and
everybody ? " With this comprehensive inquiry, Mr. Pug-
styles folded up his list of questions, as did all his backers.
Mr. Gregsbury reflected, blew his nose, threw himself fur-
I gS NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
ther back in his chair, came forward again, leaning his elbows
on the table, made a triangle with his two thumbs and his two
forefingers, and tapping his nose with the apex thereof, re-
plied (smiling as he said it), " I deny everything."
At this unexpected answer, a hoarse murmur arose from
the deputation ; and the same gentleman who had expressed
an opinion relative to the gammonnig nature of the introduc-
tory speech, again made a monosyllabic demonstration, by
growling out " Resign ! " Which growl being taken up by
his fellows, swelled into a very earnest and general remon-
strance.
" I am requested, sir, to express a hope," said Mr. Pug-
styles, with a distant bow, " that on receiving a requisition to
that effect from a great majority of your constituents, you will
not object at once to resign your seat in favor of some candi-
date whom they think they can better trust."
To this, Mr. Gregsbury read the following reply, which,
anticipating the request, he had composed in the form of a
letter, whereof copies had been made to send round to the
newspapers.
" My dear Mr. Pugstyles,
" Next to the welfare of our beloved island — this great
and free and happy country, whose powers and resources are,
I sincerely believe, illimitable — I value that noble indepen-
dence which is an Englishman's proudest boast, and which I
fondly hope to bequeath to my children, untarnished and un-
sullied. Actuated by no personal motives, but moved only by
high and great constitutional considerations ; which I will not
attempt to explain, for they are really beneath the compre-
hension of those who have not made themselves masters, as I
have, of the intricate and arduous study of politics ; I would
rather keep my seat, and intend doing so.
"Will you do me the favor to present my compliments to
the constituent body, and acquaint them with this circum-
stance ?
" With great esteem,
" My dear Mr. Pugstyles,
" &c., &c."
" Then you will not resign, under any circumstances .'' "
asked the spokesman.
Mr, Gregsbury smiled, and shook his head.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 199
" Then, good-morning, sir," said Pugstyles, angrily.
" Heaven bless you ! " said Mr. Gregsbury. And the dep-
utation, with many growls and scowls, filed off as quickly as
the narrowness of the staircase would allow of their getting
down.
The last man being gone, Mr. Gregsbury rubbed his
hands and chuckled, as merry fellows will, when they think
they have said or done a more than commonly good thing ;
he was so engrossed in this self-congratulation, that he did
not observe that Nicholas had been left behind in the
shadow of the window-curtains, until that young gentleman,
fearing he might otherwise overhear some soliloquy intended
to have no listeners, coughed twice or thrice, to attract the
member's notice,
" What's that ? " said Mr. Gregsbury, in sharp accents.
Nicholas stepped forward, and bowed.
" What do you do here, sir? " asked Mr. Gregsbury ; " a
spy upon my privacy ! A concealed voter ! You have heard
my answer, sir. Pray follow the deputation."
" I should have done so, if I had belonged to it, but I do
not," said Nicholas.
" Then how came you here, sir ? " was the natural inquiry
of Mr. Gregsbury, M.P. "And where the devil have you
come from, sir ? " was the question which followed it.
" I brought this card from the General Agency Office, sir,"
said 'l^TclToTas7^''wTsHTngTo offer myself as your secretaiy, and
understanding that you stood in need of one."
" That's all you have come for, is it ? " said Mr. Gregs-
bury, eyeing him in some doubt.
Nicholas replied in the affirmative.
" You have no connection with any of those rascally pa-
pers, have you ? " said Mr. Gregsbur}^ " You didn't get into
the room to hear what was going forward, and put it in print,
eh ? "
" I have no connection, I am sorry to say, with anything
at present," rejoined Nicholas, — politely enough, but quite at
his ease.
" Oh ! " said Mr. Gregsbury. " How did you find your
way up here, then ? "
Nicholas related how he had been forced up by the depu-
tation.
" That was the way, was it ? " said Mr. Gregsbury. " Sit
down."
2 oo NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Nicholas took a chair, and Mr. Gregsbury stared at him
for a long time, as if to make certain, before he asked any
further questions, that there were no objections to his out-
ward appearance.
" You want to be my secretary, do you ? " he said at
length.
" I wish to be employed in that capacity, sir," replied
Nicholas.
"Well," said Mr. Gregsbury ; "now what can you do ? "
" I suppose," replied Nicholas, smiling, " that I can do
what usually falls to the lot of other secretaries."
" What's that } " inquired Mr. Gregsbury.
" What is it ? " replied Nicholas.
" Ah ! What is it 1 " retorted the member, looking shrewdly
at him, with his head one side.
" A secretary's duties are rather difficult to define, perhaps,"
said Nicholas, considering. " They include, I presume, cor-
respondence ? "
" Good," interposed Mr. Gregsbury.
" The arrangement of papers and documents ? "
" Very good."
" Occasionally, perhaps the writing from your dictation ;
and possibly, sir," — said Nicholas, with a half smile, " the
copying of your speech for some public journal, when you
have made one of more than usual importance."
" Certainly," rejoined Mr. Gregsbury. " What else ? "
" Really," said Nicholas, after a moment's reflection. " I
am not able, at this instant, to recapitulate any other duty of
a secretary, iDcyond the general one of making himself as agree-
able and useful to his employer as he can, consistently with
his own respectability, and without overstepping that line of
duties which he undertakes to perform, and which the desig-
nation of his office is usually understood to imply."
Mr. Gregsbury looked fixedly at Nicholas for a short
time, and then glancing warily round the room, said in a sup-
pressed voice :
" This is all very well, Mr. — what is your name ? "
" Nickleby."
" This is all very well, Mr. Nickleby, and very proper, so
far as it goes — so far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough.
There are other duties, Mr. Nickleby, which a secretary to a
parliamentary gentleman must never lose sight of. I should
require to be crammed, sir."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 201
*' I beg your pardon," interposed Nicholas, doubtful wheth-
er he had heard aright.
" — To be crammed, sir," repeated Mr. Gregsbury.
" May I beg your pardon again, if I inquire what you
mean, sir t " said Nicholas.
" My meaning, sir, is perfectly plain," replied Mr. Gregs-
bury, with a solemn aspect. " My secretary would have to
make himself master of the foreign policy of the world, as it
is mirrored in the newspapers ; to run his eye over all accounts
of public meetings, all leading articles, and accounts of the
proceedings of public bodies ; and to make notes of anything
which it appeared to him might be made a point of, in any
little speech upon the question of some petition lying on the
table, or anything of that kind. Do you understand ? "
"I think I do, sir," replied Nicholas.
" Then," said Mr. Gregsbury, "it would be necessary for
him to make himself acquainted, from day to day, with news-
paper paragraphs on passing events ; such as ' Mysterious
disappearance, and supposed suicide of a pot-boy,' or anything
of that sort upon which I might found a question to the Secre-
tary of State for the Home Department. Then, he would have
to copy the question, and as much as I remembered of the an-
swer (including a litde compliment about independence and
good sense) ; and to send the manuscript in a frank to the
local paper, with perhaps half a dozen lines of leader, to the
effect, that I was always to be found in my place in Parliament,
and never shrunk from the responsible and arduous duties,
and so forth. You see ? "
Nicholas bowed.
" Besides which," continued Mr. Gregsbury, " I should ex-
pect him, now and then, to go through a few figures in the
printed tables, and to pick out a few results, so that I might
come out pretty well on timber duty questions, and finance
questions, and so on ; and I should like him to get up a few
little arguments about the disastrous effects of a return to
cash payments and a metallic currency, with a touch now and
then about the exportation of bullion, and the Emperor of
Russia, and bank notes, and all that kind of thing, which it's
only necessary to talk fluently about, because nobody under-
stands it. Do you take me ? "
" I think I understand," said Nicholas.
"With regard to such questions as are not political," con-
tinued Mr. Gregsbury, warming; " and which one can't be ex-
2 02 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
pected to care a curse about, beyond the natural care of not
allowing inferior people to be as well off as ourselves — else
where are our privileges ? — I should wish my secretary to
get together a few little flourishing speeches, "oF'^a patriotic cast.
For instance, if any preposterous bill were brought forward,
for giving poor grubbing devils of authors a right to their
own property, I should like to say, that I for one would never
consent to opposing an insurmountable bar to the diffusion of
literature among the people, — you understand? — that the crea-
tions of the pocket, being man's, might belong to one man, or
one family ; but that the creations of the brain, being God's,
ought as a matter of course to belong to the people at large —
and if I v/as pleasantly disposed, I should like to make a joke
about posterity, and say that those who wrote for posterity
should be content to be rewarded by the approbation of pos-
terity ; it might take with the house, and could never do
me any harm, because posterity can't be expected to know
anything about me or my jokes either — do you see ? "
" I see that, sir," replied Nicholas.
" You must always bear in mind, in such cases as this,
where our interests are not affected," said Mr. Gregsbury, " to
put it very strong about the people, because it comes out very
well at election-time ; and you could be as funny as you liked
about the authors ; because I believe the greater part of them
live in lodgings, and are not voters. This is a hasty outline
of the chief things you'd have to do, except waiting in the
lobby every night, in case I forgot anything, and should want
fresh cramming ; and, now and then, during great debates,
sitting in the front row of the gallery, and saying to the people
about — ' You see that gentleman, with his hand to his face,
and his arm twisted round the pillar — that's Mr. Gregsbury —
the celebrated Mr. Gregsbury- — ' with any other little eulogium
that might strike you at the moment. And for salary," said
Mr. Gregsbury, winding up with great rapidity ; for he was out
of breath — " And for salary, I don't mind saying at once in
round numbers, to prevent any dissatisfaction — though it's
more than I've been accustomed to give — fifteen shillings a
week, and find yourself. There? "
With this handsome offer, Mr. Gregsbury once more threw
himself back in his chair, and looked like a man who had been
most profligately liberal, but is determined not to repent of it
notwithstanding.
" Fifteen shillings a week is not much," said Nicholas,
mildly.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
203
" Not much ? Fifteen shillings a week not much, young
man ? " cried Mr. Gregsbury. " Fifteen shillings a "
" Pray do not suppose that I quarrel with the sum, sir,"
replied Nicholas ; " for I am not ashamed to confess, that
whatever it may be in itself, to me it is a great deal. But the
duties and responsibilities make the recompense small, and
they are so very heavy that I fear to undertake them."
*' Do you decline to undertake them, sir ? " inquired Mr.
Gregsbury, with his hand on the bell-rope.
" I fear they are too great for my powers, however good
my will may be, sir," replied Nicholas.
" That is as much as to say that you had rather not accept
the place, and that you consider fifteen shillings a week too
little," said Mr. Gregsbury, ringing. " Do you decline it,
sir ? "
" I have no alternative but to do so," replied Nicholas.
" Door, Matthews ! " said Mr. Gregsbury, as the boy ap-
peared.
" I am sorry I have troubled you unnecessarily, sir," said
Nicholas.
"I am sorry you have," rejoined Mr. Gregsbur}^, turning
his back upon him. " Door, Matthews ! "
" Good-morning, sir," said Nicholas.
" Door, Matthews ! " cried Mr. Gregsbury.
The boy beckoned Nicholas, and tumbling lazily down
stairs before him, opened the door, and ushered him into the
street. With a sad pensive air, he retraced his steps home-
wards.
Smike had scraped a meal together from the remnant of
last night's supper, and was anxiously awaiting his return.
The occurrences of the morning had not improved Nicholas's
appetite, and, by him, the dinner remained untasted. He
was sitting in a thoughtful attitude, with the plate which the
poor fellow had assiduously filled with the choicest morsels,
untouched, by his side, when Newman Noggs looked into the
room.
" Come back ? " asked Newman.
" Yes," replied Nicholas, " tired to death ; and, what is
worse, might have remained at home for all the good I have
done."
" Couldn't expect to do much in one morning," said New-
man.
" May be so, but I am sanguine, and did expect," said
204 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Nicholas, " and am proportionately disappointed." Saying
which, he gave Newman an account of his proceedings.
"If I could do anything," said Nicholas, " anything how-
ever slight, until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased
my mind by confronting him, I should feel happier. I should
think it no disgrace to work. Heaven knows. Lying indo-
lently here, like a half-tamed sullen beast, distracts me."
" I don't know," said Newman ; " small things offer — they
would pay the rent, and more — but you wouldn't like them ;
no, you could hardly be expected to undergo it — no, no."
"What could I hardly be expected to undergo.-'" asked
Nicholas raising his eyes. " Show me, in this wide waste of
London, any honest means by which I could even defray the
weekly hire of this poor room, and see if I shrink from re-
sorting to them ! Undergo ! I have undergone too much,
my friend, to feel pride or squeamishness now. Except — "
added Nicholas hastily, after a short silence, " except such
squeamishness as is common honesty, and so much pride as
constitutes self-respect. I see little to choose, between as-
sistant to a brutal pedagogue, and toad-eater to a mean and
ignorant upstart, be he member or no member."
" I hardly know whether I should tell you what I heard
this morning or not," said Newman.
" Has it reference to what you said just now .'' " asked
Nicholas.
"It has."
" Then in Heaven's name, my good friend, tell it me,"
said Nicholas. " For God's sake consider my deplorable con-
dition ; and, while I promise to take no step without taking
counsel with you, give me, at least, a vote in my. own behalf."
Moved by this entreaty, Newman stammered forth a varie-
ty of most unaccountable and entangled sentences, the up-
shot of which, was, that Mrs. Kenwigs had examined him, at
great length that morning, touching the origin of his acquaint-
ance with, and the whole life, adventures, and pedigree of,
Nicholas ; that Newman had parried these questions as long
as he could, but being, at length, hard pressed and driven
into a corner, had gone so far as to admit, that Nicholas was
a tutor of great accomplishments, involved in some misfor-
tunes which he was not at liberty to explain, and bearing the
name of Johnson. That Mrs. Kenwigs, impelled by gratitude,
or ambition, or maternal pride, or maternal love, or all four
powerful motives conjointly, had taken secret conference
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
205
with Mr. Kenwigs, and liad finally returned to propose that
Mr. Johnson should instruct the four Miss Kenwigses in the
French language as spoken by natives, at the weekly stipend
of five shillings, current coin of the realm ; being at the rate
of one shilling per week, per each Miss Kenwigs, and one
shilling over, until such time as the baby might be able to
take it out in grammar.
"Which, unless I am very much mistaken," observed Mrs.
Kenwigs in making the proposition, " will not be very long ;
for such clever children, Mr. Noggs, never were born into this
world, I do believe."
"There," said Newman, "that's all. It's beneath you, I
know ; but I thought that perhaps you might "
" Might ! " cried Nicholas, with great alacrity ; " of course
I shall. I accept the offer at once. Tell the worthy mother
so, without delay, my dear fellow ; and that I am ready to be-
gin whenever she pleases."
Newman hastened, with joyful steps, to inform Mrs. Ken-
wigs of his friend's acquiescence, and soon returning brought
back word that they would be happy to see him in the first
floor as soon as convenient ; that Mrs. Kenwigs had, upon
the instant, sent out to secure a second-hand French gram-
mar and dialogues, which had long been fluttering in the six-
penny box at the book-stall round the corner ; and that the
family, highly excited at the prospect ot this addition to their
gentility, wished the initiatory lesson to come off immedi>
ately.
And here it may be observed, that Nicholas was not in the
ordinary sense of the word, a young man of high spirit. He
would resent an affront to himself, or interpose to redress a
wrong offered to another, as boldly and freely as any knight
that ever set lance in rest ; but he lacked that peculiar excess
of coolness and great-minded selfishness, which invariably ,
distinguish gentlemen of high spirit. In truth, for our ownj
part, we are disposed to look upon such gentlemen as being I
rather incumbrances than otherwise in rising families : hap-
pening to be acquainted with several whose spirit prevents
their settling down to any grovelling occupation, and only dis-
plays itself in a tendency to cultivate mustaches, and look
fierce ; and although mustaches and ferocity are both very
pretty things in their way, and very much to be commended, we
confess to a desire to see them bred at the owner's proper
cost, rather than at the expense of low-spirited people.
2o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Nicholas, therefore, not being a high-spirited young man
according to common parlance, and deeming it a greater deg-
radation to borrow, for the supply of his necessities, from
Newman Noggs, than to teach French to the little Kenwigses
for five shillings a week, accepted the offer, with the alacrity
already described, and betook himself to the first floor with
all convenient speed.
Here, he was received by Mrs. Kenwigs with a genteel
air, kindly intended to assure him of her protection and sup-
port ; and here, too, he found Mr. Lillyvick and Miss Petow-
ker ; the four Miss Kenwigses on their form of audience ; and
the baby in a dwarf porter's chair with a deal tray before it,
amusing himself with a toy horse without a head ; the said
horse being composed of a small wooden cylinder, not unlike
an Italian iron, supported on four crooked pegs and painted
in ingenious resemblance of red wafers set in blacking.
" How do you do, Mr. Johnson ? " said Mr. Kenwigs.
" Uncle — Mr. Johnson."
" How do you do, sir t " said Mr. Lillyvick — rather sharply ;
for he Jiad not known what Nicholas was, on the previous
night, and it was rather an aggravating circumstance if a tax
collector had been too polite to a teacher.
" Mr. Johnson is engaged as private master to the children,
uncle,'' said Mrs. Kenwigs.
" So you said just now, my dear," replied Mr. Lillyvick.
" But I hope," said Mrs. Kenwigs, drawing herself up,
" that that will not make them proud ; but that they will bless
their own good fortune, which has born them superior to com-
mon people's children. Do you hear, Morleena .'' "
" Yes, ma," replied Miss Kenwigs.
"And when you go out in the streets, or elsewhere, I desire
that you don't boast of it to the other children," said Mrs.
Kenwigs ; " and that if you must say anything about it, you
don't say no more than ' We've got a private master comes to
teach us at home, but we ain't proud, because ma says it's
sinful.' Do you hear, Morleena .'' "
" Yes, ma," replied Miss Kenwigs again.
" Then mind you recollect, and do as I tell you," said
Mrs. Kenwigs. " Shall Mr. Johnson begin, uncle .'' "
" I am ready to hear, if Mr. Johnson is ready to com-
mence, my dear," said the collector, assuming the air of a pro-
found critic. " What sort of language do you consider French,
sir .? "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 207
" How do you mean ? " asked Nicholas.
" Do you consider it a good language, sir ? " said the col-
lector ; " a pretty language, a sensible language ? "
" A pretty language, certainly," replied Nicholas ; " and as
it has a name for everything, and admits of elegant conversa-
tion about everything, I presume it is a sensible one."
" I don't know," said Mr. Lillyvick, doubtfully. " Do you
call it a cheerful language, now ? "
" Yes," replied Nicholas, " I should say it was, certainly."
" It's very much changed since my time, then," said the
collector, " very much."
" Was it a dismal one in your time ? " asked Nicholas,
scarcely able to repress a smile.
" Very," replied Mr. Lillyvick, with some vehemence of
manner. " It's the war time that 1 speak of ; the last war. It
may be a cheerful language. I should be sorry to contradict
anybody ; but I can only say that I've heard the French pris-
oners, who were natives, and ought to know how to speak it,
talking in such a dismal manner, that it made one miserable
to hear them. Ay, that I have, fifty times, sir — fifty times! "
Mr. Lillyvick was waxing so cross, that Mrs. Kenwigs
thought it expedient to motion to Nicholas not to say anything ;
and it was not until Miss Petowker had practised several
blandishments, to soften the excellent old gentleman, that he
deigned to break silence, by asking,
" What's the water in French, sir ? "
*' L'Eaii," replied Nicholas.
" Ah ! " saicl Mr. Lillyvick, shaking his head mournfully,
" I thought as much. Lo, eh ? I don't think anything of that
language — nothing at all."
" I suppose the children may begin, uncle ? " said Mrs.
Kenwigs.
" Oh yes ; they may begin, my dear," replied the collector,
discontentedly, "/have no wish to prevent them."
This permission being conceded, the four Miss Kenwigses
sat in a row with their tails all one way, and Morleena at the
top : while Nicholas, taking the book, began his preliminary
explanations. Miss Petowker and Mrs. Kenwigs looked on, in
silent admiration, broken only by the whispered assurances of
the latter, that Morleena would have it all by heart in no time ;
and Mr. Lillyvick regarded the group with frowning and atten-
tive eyes, lying in wait for something upon which he could
open a fresh discussion on the language.
2o8 mCHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER XVII.
FOLLOWS THE FORTUNES OF MISS NICKLEBY.
It was with a heavy heart, and many sad forebodings which
no effort could banish, that Kate Nickleby, on the morning
appointed for the commencement of her engagement with
Madame MantaUni, left the city when its clocks yet wanted a
quarter of an hour of eight, and threaded her way alone, amid
the noise and bustle of the streets, towards the west end of
London.
At this early hour many sickly girls, whose business, like
that of the poor worm, is to produce, with patient toil, the
finery that bedecks the thoughtless and luxurious, traverse our
sTfeets, making towards the scene of their daily labor, and
catching, as if by stealth, in their hurried walk, the only gasp
of wholesome air and glimpse of sunlight which cheers their
rnohotonous existence during the long train of hours that
make a working day. As she drew nigh to the more fashion-
able quarter of the town, Kate marked many of this class as
they passed by, hurrying like herself to their painful occupa-
tion, and saw, in their unhealthy looks and feeble gait, but too
clear an evidence that her misgivings were not wholly ground-
less. .
She arrived at Madame Mantalini's some minutes before
the appointed hour, and after walking a few times up and
down, in the hope that some other female might arrive and
spare her embarrassment of stating her business to the servant,
knocked timidly at the door : which, after some delay, was
opened by the footman, who had been putting on his striped
jacket as he came up stairs, and was now intent on fastening
his apron.
" Is Madame Mantalini in ? " faltered Kate.
" Not often out at this time, Miss," replied the man in a
tone which rendered ' Miss,' something more offensive than
' My dear.'
" Can I see her ? " asked Kate.
" Eh ? " replied the man, holding the door in his hand,
and honoring the inquirer with a stare and a broad grin,
" Lord, no. "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 209
" I came by her own appointment, " said Kate ; " I am—
I am — to be employed here."
" Oh ! you should have rung the worker's bell," said the
footman, touching the handle of one in the door-post. " Let
me see, though, I forgot — Miss Nickleby, is it ? "
" Yes," replied Kate.
" You're to walk up stairs then, please," said the man.
" Madame Mantalini wants to see you — this way — take care
of these things on the floor."
Cautioning her, in these terms, not to trip over a heteroge-
neous litter of pastry-cook's trays, lamps, waiters full of glasses,
and piles of rout seats which were strewn about the hall,
plainly bespeaking a late party on the previous night, the man
led the way to the second story, and ushered Kate into a back
room, communicating by folding-doors with the apartment in
which she had first seen the mistress of the establishment.
" If you'll wait here a minute," said the man, " I'll tell her
presently." Having made this promise with much affability,
he retired and left Kate alone.
There was not much to amuse in the room ; of which the
most attractive feature was, a half-length portrait in oil, of
Mr. Mantalini, whom the artist had depicted scratching his
head in an easy manner, and thus displaying to advantage a
diamond ring, the gift of Madame Mantalini before her mar-
riage. There was, however, the sound of voices in conversa-
tion in the next room ; and as the conversation was loud and
the partition thin, Kate could not help discovering that they
belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Mantalini.
" If you will be odiously, demnebly outr/geously jealous,
my soul," said Mr. Mantalini, "j^ou will be very miserable —
horrid miserable — demnition miserable." And then, there
was a sound as though Mr. Mantalini were sipping his coffee.
" I am miserable," returned Madame Mantalini.
" Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful
little fairy," said Mr. Mantalini.
" I am not," returned Madame, with a sob.
" Do not put itself out of humor," said Mr. Mantalini,
breaking an egg. " It is a pretty, bewitching little demd
countenance, and it should not be out of humor, for it spoils
its loveliness, and makes it cross and gloomy like a frightful,
naughty, demd hobgoblin."
" I am not to be brought round in that way, always," re^
joined Madame, sulkily.
14
2 1 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and
not brought round at all if it likes better," retorted Mr. Man-
talini, with his egg-spoon in his mouth.
" It's very easy to talk," said Mrs. Mantalini.
" Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg," re-'7
plied Mr. Mantalini ; " for the yolk runs down the waistcoat, p
and yolk of egg does not' match any waistcoat but a yellow J
waistcoat, demmit."
" You were flirting with her during the whole night,'' said
Madame Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the conversa-
tion back to the point from which it had strayed.
" No. no, my life."
" You were," said Madame ; " I had my eye upon you all
the time."
" Bless the little winking twinkling eye ; was it on me all
the time ! " cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. "Oh,
demmit ! "
"And I say once more," resumed Madame, "that you
ought not to waltz with anybody but your own wife ; and I
will not bear it, Mantalini, if I take poison first."
" She will not take poison and have horried pains, will
she ? " said Mantalini ; who, by the altered sound of his voice,
seemed to have moved his chair, and taken up his position
nearer to his wife. " She will not take poison, because she
had a demd fine husband who might have married two count-
esses and a dowager "
"Two countesses," interposed Madame. "You told me
one before ! "
"Two !" cried Mantalini. "Two demd fine women, real
countesses and splendid fortunes, demmit."
" And why didn't you ? " asked Madame, playfully.
" Why didn't I ! " replied her husband. " Had I not seen,
at a morning concert, the demdest little fascinator in all the
world, and while that little fascinator is my wife, may not all
the countesses and dowagers in England be "
Mr. Mantalini did not finish the sentence, but he gave
Madame Mantalini a very loud kiss, which Madame Man-
talini returned ; after which, there seemed to be some more
kissing mixed up with the progress of the breakfast.
" And what about the cash, my existence's jewel ? " said
Mantalini, when these endearments ceased. " How much
have we in hand ? "
"Very little indeed," replied Madame.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 2 1 1
"We must have some more," said Mantalini ; "we must
have some discount out of old Nickleby to carry on the war
with, demmit."
"You can't want any more just now," said Madame coax-
ingly.
" My life and soul," returned her husband, " there is a
horse for sale at Scrubbs's, which it would be a sin and a
crime to lose — going, my senses' joy, for nothing."
" For nothing," cried Madame, " I am glad of that."
" For actually nothing," replied Mantalini. " A hundred
guineas down will buy him ; mane, and crest, and legs, and
tail, all of the demdest beauty. I will ride him in the park
before the very chariots of the rejected countesses. The
demd old dowager will faint with grief and rage ; the other
two will say ' He is married, he has made away with himself,
it is a demd thing, it is all up ! ' They will hate each other
demnebly, and wish you dead and buried. Ha ! ha ! Dem-
mit."
Madame Mantalini's prudence, if she had any, was not
proof against these triumphal pictures ; after a little jingling
of keys, she observed that she would see what her desk con-
tained, and rising for that purpose, opened the folding-door,
and walked into the room where Kate was seated.
" Dear me, child ! " exclaimed Madame Mantalini, recoil-
ing in surprise. " How came you here ? "
"Child!" cried Mantalini, hurrying in, "How came —
eh ! — oh — demmit ; how d'ye do ? "
" I have been waiting here some time, ma'am," said Kate,
addressing Madame Mantalini. " The servant must have
forgotten to let you know that I was here, I think."
" You really must see to that man," said Madame, turning
to her husband. " He forgets evervthing."
" I will twist his demd nose off his countenance for leav-
ing such a very pretty creature all alone by herself," said her
husband.
" Mantalini," cried Madame, "you forget yourself."
" I don't forget jou, my soul, and never shall, and never
can," said Mantalini, kissing his wife's hand, and grimacing
aside, to Miss Nickleby, who turned away.
Appeased by this compliment, the lady of the business
took some papers from her desk which she handed over to
Mr. Mantalini, who received them with great delight. She
then requested Kate to follow her, and after several feints on
2 1 2 NIC 110 L A S NICKLEB Y.
the part of Mr. Mantalini to attract the young lady's atten-
tion, they went away : leaving that gentleman extended at
full length on the sofa, with his heels in the air and a news-
paper in his hand.
Madame Mantalini led the way down a flight of stairs, and
through a passage, to a large room at the back of the prem-
ises where were a number of young women employed in sew-
ing, cutting out, making up, altering, and various other pro-
cesses known only to those who are cunning in the arts of
millinery and dress-making. It was a close room with a sky-
light, and as dull and quiet as a room need be.
On Madame Mantalini calling aloud for INIiss Knag, a
short, bustling, over-dressed female, full of importance, pre-
sented herself, and all the young ladies suspending their op-
erations for the moment, whispered to each other sundry criti-
cisms upon the make and texture of Miss Nickleby's dress,
her complexion, cast of features, and personal appearance,
with as much good-breeding as could have been displayed by
the very best society in a crowded ball-room.
"Oh, Miss Knag," said Madame Mantalini, "this is the
young person I spoke to you about."
Miss Knag bestowed a reverential smile upon Madame
Mantalini, which she dexterously transformed into a gracious
one for Kate, and said that certainly, although it was a great
deal of trouble to have young people who were wholly unused
to the business, still, she was sure the young person would
try to do her best — impressed with which conviction she (Miss
Knag) felt an interest in her, already.
" I think that, for the present at all events, it will be better
for Miss Nickleby to come into the show-room with you, and
try things on for people," said Madame Mantalini. " She will
not be able for the present to be of much use in any other
way ; and her appearance will "
" Suit very well with mine, Madame Mantalini," inter-
rupted Miss Knag. " So it will ; and to be sure I might have
known that you would not be long in finding that out ; for you
have so much taste in all those matters, that really, as I often
say, to the young ladies, I do not know how, when, or where,
you possibly could have acquired all you know — hem — Miss
Nickleby and I are quite a pair, Madame Mantalini, only I
am a liule darker than Miss Nickleby, and — hem — I think
my foot may be a little smaller. Miss Nickleby, I am sure,
will not be offended at my saying that, when she hears that
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
213
our family always have been celebrated for small feet ever
since — hem — ever since our family had any feet at all, indeed,
I think. I had an uncle once, Madame Mantalini, who lived
in Cheltenham, and had a most excellent business as a tobac-
conist— hem — who had such small feet, that they were no
bigger than those which are usually joined to wooden legs —
the most symmetrical feet, Madame Mantalini, that even you
can imagnie."
They must have had something the appearance of club
feet, Miss Knag," said Madame.
"Well now, that is so like you," returned Miss Knag.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! Of club feet ! Oh very good ! As I often
remark to the young ladies, ' Well I must say, and I do not
care who knows it, of all the ready humor — hem — I ever heard
anywhere ' — and I have heard a good deal ; for when my dear
brother was alive (I kept house for him. Miss Nickleby), we
had to supper once a week two or three young men, highly
celebrated in those days for their humor, Madame Mantalini
— ' Of all the ready humor,' I say to the young ladies, ' /ever
heard, Madame Mantalini's is the most remarkable — hem. It
is so gentle, so sarcastic, and yet so good-natured (as I was
observing to Miss Simmonds only this morning), that how, or
when, or by what means she acquired it, is to me a mystery
indeed. ' "
Here Miss Knag paused to take breath, and while she
pauses it may be observed — not that she was marvellously
loquacious and marvellously deferential to Madame Mantalini,
since these are facts which require no comment ; but that
every now and then, she was accustomed, in the torrent of her
discourse, to introduce a loud, shrill, clear, " hem ! " the im-
port and meaning of which, was variously interpreted by her
acquaintance ; some holding that Miss Knag dealt in exagger-
ation, and introduced the monosyllable, when any fresh in-
vention was in course of coinage in her brain ; others, that
when she wanted a word, she threw it in to gain time, and
prevent anybody else from striking into the conversation. It
may be further remarked, that Miss Knag still aimed at youth,
although she had shot beyond it, years ago ; and that she was
weak and vain, and one of those people who are best described
by the axiom, that you may trust them as far as you can see
them, and no farther.
" You'll take care that Miss Nickleby understands her
hours, and so forth," said Madame Mantalini; "and so I'll
14
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
leave her with you. You'll not forget my directions, Miss
Knag ? "
Miss Knag of course replied, that to forget anything
Madame Mantalini had directed, was a moral impossibility ;
and that lady, dispensing a general good-morning among her
assistants, sailed away.
" Charming creature, is'nt she, Miss Nickleby } " said Miss
Knag, rubbing her hands together.
" I have seen very little of her," said Kate. " I hardly
know yet."
" Have you seen Mr. Mantalini.^ " inquired Miss Knag.
"Yes ; I have seen him twice."
" Isn't hez. charming creature ? "
" Indeed he does not strike me as being so, by any means,"
replied Kate.
" No, my dear ! " cried Miss Knag, elevating her hands.
" Why, goodness gracious mercy, where's your taste } Such
a fine tall, full-whiskered dashing gentlemanly man, with such
teeth and hair, and — hem — well now, you do astonish me."
"I dare say I am very foolish," replied Kate, laying aside
her bonnet ; " but as my opinion is of very little importance
to him or any one else, I do not regret having formed it, and
shall be slow to change it, I think."
" He is a very fine man, don't you think so ? " asked one
of the young ladies.
" Indeed he may be, for anything I could say to the con-
trary," replied Kate.
" And drives ver)^ beautiful horses, doesn't he ? " inquired
another.
" I dare say he may, but I never saw them," answered
Kate.
" Never saw them ! " interposed Miss Knag. "Oh, well !
There it is at once you know ; how can you possibly pro-
nounce an opinion about a gentleman — hem — if you don't see
him as he turns out altogether ? "
There was so much of the world — even of the little world
of the country girl — in this idea of the old milliner, that Kate,
who was anxious, for every reason, to change the subject,
mjde no further remark, and left Miss Knag in possession of
the field.
After a short silence, during which most of the young
people made a closer inspection of Kate's appearance, and
compared notes respecting it, one of them offered to help her
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 21$
off with her shawl, and the offer being accepted, inquired
whether she did not find black very uncomfortable wear.
"I do indeed," replied Kate, with a bitter sigh.
" So dusty and hot," observed the same speaker, adjust
ing her dress for her.
Kate might have said, that mourning is sometimes the
coldest wear which mortals can assume ; that it not only
chills the breasts of those it clothes, but extending its influ-
ence to summer friends, freezes up their sources of good-will
and kindness, and withering all the buds of promise they once
so liberally put forth, leaves nothing but bared and rotten
hearts exposed. There are few who have lost a friend or rel-
ative constituting in life their sole dependence, who have not
keenly felt this chilling influence of their sable garb. She
had felt it acutely, and feeling it at the moment, could not
quite restrain her tears.
" I am very sorry to have wounded you by my thoughtless
speech," said her companion. " I did not think of it. You
are in mourning for some near relation ? "
" For my father," answered Kate.
" For what relation. Miss Simmonds ? " asked Miss Knag
in an audible voice.
"Her father," replied the other softly.
" Her father, eh ? " said Miss Knag, without the slightest
depression of her voice. " Ah ! A long illness, Miss Sim-
monds ? "
" Hush," replied the girl ; " I don't know."
" Our misfortune was very sudden," said Kate, turning
away, " or I might perhaps, at a time like this, be enabled to
support it better."
There had existed not a little desire in the room, accord-
ing to invariable custom, when any new " young person "
came, to know who Kate was, and what she was, and all about
her ; but, although it might have been ver)^ naturally increased
by her appearance and emotion, the knowledge that it pained
her to be questioned, was sufficient to repress even this
curiosity ; and Miss Knag, finding it hopeless to attempt ex-
tracting any further particulars just then, reluctantly com-
manded silence, and bade the work proceed.
In silence, then, the tasks were plied until half-past one,
when a baked leg of mutton, with potatoes to correspond,
were served in the kitchen. The meal over, and the young
ladies having enjoyed the additional relaxation of washing
2i6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
their hands, the work began again, and was again performed
in silence, until the noise of carriages rattling through the
streets, and of loud double knocks at doors, gave token that
the day's work of the more fortunate members of society was
needing in its turn.
One of these double knocks at Madame Mantalini's door,
lounced the equipage of some great lady — or rather rich
■'One-,-^QIthere is occasionally a distinction between riches and
-who had come with her daughter to approve of
some court-dresses which had been a long time preparing,
and upon whom Kate was deputed to wait, accompanied by
Miss Knag, and officered of course by Madame Mantalini.
Kate's part in the pageant was humble enough, her duties
being limited to holding articles of costume until Miss Knag
was ready to try them on, and now and then tying a string, or
fastening a hook-and-eye. She might, not unreasonably, have
supposed herself beneath the reach of any arrogance, or bad
humor ; but it happened that the lady and daughter were both
out of temper that day, and the poor girl came in for her
share of their revilings. She was awkward — her hands were
cold — dirty — coarse — she could do nothing right ; they won-
dered how Madame Mantalini could have such people about
her \ requested that they might see some other young woman
the next time they came ; and so forth.
So common an occurrence would be hardly deserving of
mention, but for its effect. Kate shed many bitter tears when
these people were gone, and felt, for the first time, humbled by
her occupation. She had, it is true, quailed at the prospect
of drudgery and hard service ; but she had felt no degradation
in working for her bread, until she found herself exposed to
insolence_jind^piLcie, Philosophy would have taught her that
the"3egradation was on the side of those who had sunk so low
as to display such passions habitually, and without cause : but
she was too young for such consolation, and her honest feel-
ing was hurt. May not the complaint, that common people
are above their station, often take its rise in the fact of tin-
common people being below theirs .'
In such scenes and occupations the time wore on, until
nine o'clock, when Kate, jaded and dispirited with the occur-
rences of the day, hastened from the confinement of the work-
room, to join her mother at the street corner, and walk home :
— the more sadly, from having to disguise her real feelings,
and feign to participate in all the sanguine visions of her com-
panion.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
217
" Bless my soul, Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby ; " I've been
thinking all day, what a delightful thing it would be for
Madame Mantalini to take you into partnership — such a
likely thing too, you know ! Why, your poor dear papa's
cousin's sister-in-law — a Miss Browndock — was taken into
partnership by a lady that kept a school at Hammersmith,
and made her fortune in no time at all. I forget, by the bye,
whether that Miss Browndock was the same lady that got the
ten thousand pounds prize in the lotter}', but I think she was;
indeed, now I come to think of it, I am sure she was. ' Man-
talini and Nickleby,' how well it would sound ! — and if
Nicholas has any good fortune, you might have Doctor
Nickleby, the head-master of Westminster School, living in
the same street."
" Dear Nicholas ! " cried Kate, taking from her reticule
her brother's letter from Dotheboys Hall. ^"Iji all our mis-
fortunes, how happy it makes me, mama, to hear he is doing
well, and to find him writing in such good spirits ! It con-
soles me for all we may undergo, to think that he is comfort-
able and happy3'^
Poor Kate' r she little thought how weak her consolation
was, and how soon she would be undeceived.
CHAPTER XVIII.
MISS KNAG, AFTER DOATING ON KATE NICKLEBY FOR THREE
WHOLE DAYS, MAKES UP HER MIND TO HATE HER FOR
EVERMORE. THE CAUSES WHICH LEAD MISS KNAG TO
FORM THIS RESOLUTION.
There are many lives of much pain, hardship, and sufTer-
ing, which, having no stirring interest for any but those who
lead them, are disregarded by persons who do not want
thought or feeling, but who pamper their compassion and
need high stimulants to rouse it.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who
require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the
votaries of pleasure in theirs ; and hence it is that diseased
sympathy and compassion are every day expended on out-of-
2 1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
the-way objects, when only too many demands upon the le-
gitimate exercise of the same virtues in a healthy state, are
constantly within the sight and hearing of the most unobser-
vant person alive. In short, charity must have its romance,
as the novelist or playwright must have his. A thief in fustian
is a vulgar character, scarcely to be thought of by persons of
refinement ; but dress him in green velvet, with a high-
crowned hat, and change the scene of his operations, from a
thickly peopled city, to a mountain road, and you shall find in
him the very soul of poetry and adventure. So it is with the
one great cardinal virtue, which, properly nourished and exer-
cised, leads to, if it does not necessarily include, all the others.
It must have its romance ; and the less of real, hard, struggling
work-a-day life there is in that romance, the better.
The life to which poor Kate Nickleby was devoted, in
consequence of the unforeseen train of circumstances already
developed in this narrative, was a hard one ; but lest the very
dulness, unhealthy confinement, and bodily fatigue, which
made up its sum and substance, should deprive it of any in-
terest with the mass of the charitable and sympathetic, I would
rather keep Miss Nickleby herself in view just now, than chill
them, in the outset, by a minute and lengthened description of
the establishment presided over by Madame Mantalini.
"Well, now, indeed Madame Mantalini," said Miss Knag,
as Kate was taking her weary way homewards on the first
night of her novitiate ; " that Miss Nickleby is a very credit-
able young person— a very creditable young person indeed —
hem — upon my word, Madame Mantalini, it does very extra-
ordinary credit even to your discrimination that you should
have found such a very excellent, very well behaved, very —
hem — very unassuming young woman to assist in the fitting
on. I have seen some young women when they had the
opportunity of displaying before their betters, behave in such
a — oh, dear— well — but you're always right, Madame Manta-
lini, always \ and as I very often tell the young ladies, how
you do contrive to be always right, when so many people are
so often wrong, is to me a mystery indeed."
" Beyond putting a very excellent client out of humor.
Miss Nickleby has not done anything very remarkable to-day
— that I am aware of, at least," said Madame Mantalini in
reply.
" Oh, dear ! " said Miss Knag ; " but you must allow a
great deal for inexperience, you know."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 219
" And youth ? " inquired Madame.
" Oh, I say nothing about that, Madame Mantalini," re-
plied Miss Knag, reddening ; " because if youth were any ex-
cuse, you wouldn't have — "
" Quite so good a forewoman as I have, I suppose," sug-
gested Madame.
" Well, I never did know anybody like you, Madame Man-
talini," rejoined Miss Knag most complacently, "and that's
the fact, for you know what one's going to say, before it has
time to rise to one's lips. Oh, very good ! Ha, ha, ha ! "
"For myself," observed Madame Mantalini, glancing with
affected carelessness at her assistant, and laughing heartily in
her sleeve, " I consider Miss Nickleby the most awkward girl
I ever saw in my life."
" Poor dear thing," said Miss Knag, " it's not her fault.
If it was, we might hope to cure it ; but as it's her misfortune,
Madame Mantalini, why really you know, as the man said
about the blind horse, we ought to respect it."
" Her uncle told me she had been considered pretty," re-
marked Madame Mantalini. " I think her one of the most
ordinary girls I ever met with."
" Ordinary ! " cried Miss Knag with a countenance beam-
ing delight ; " and awkward ! Well, all I can say is, Madame
Mantalini, that I quite love the poor girl ; and that if she was
twice as indifferent-looking, and twice as awkward as she is,
I should be only so much the more her friend, and that's the
truth of it."
In fact. Miss Knag had conceived an incipient affection
for Kate Nickleby, after witnessing her failure that morning,
and this short conversation with her superior increased the
favorable prepossession to a most surprising extent ; which
was the more remarkable, as when she first scanned that
young lady's face and figure, she had entertained certain in-
ward misgivings that tliey would never agree.
" But now," said Miss Knag, glancing at the reflection of
herself in a mirror at no great distance, *' I love her — I quite
love her — I declare I do ! "
Of such a highly disinterested quality was this devoted
friendship, and so superior was it to the little weaknesses of
flattery or ill nature, that the kind-hearted Miss Knag candidly
informed Kate Nickleby, next day, that she saw she would
never do for the business, but that she need not give herself
the slightest uneasiness on this account, for that she (Miss
2 2 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Knag) by increased exertions on her own part, would keep
her as much as possible in the background, and that all she
would have to do, would be to remain perfectly quiet before
company, and to shrink from attracting notice by every means
in her power. This last suggestion was so much in accord-
ance with the timid girl's own feelings and wis^hes, that she
readily promised implicit reliance on the excellent spinster's
advice : without questioning, or indeed bestowing a moment's
reflection upon, the motives that dictated it.
" I take quite a lively interest in you, my dear soul, upon
my word," said Miss Knag ; " a sister's interest, actually. It's
the most singular circumstance I ever knew."
Undoubtedly it was singular, that if Miss Knag did feel a
strong interest in Kate Nickleby, it should not rather have
been the interest of a maiden aunt or grandmother ; that be-
ing the conclusion to which the difference in their respective
ages would have naturally tended. But Miss Knag wore
clothes of a very youthful pattern, and perhaps her feelings
took the same shape.
" Bless you ! " said Miss Knag, bestowing a kiss upon Kate
at the conclusion of the second day's work, " how very awk-
ward you have been all day."
" I fear your kind and open communication, which has
rendered me more painfully conscious of my own defects, has
not improved me," sighed Kate.
" No, no, I dare say not," rejoined Miss Knag, in a most
uncommon flow of good humor. " But how much better that
you should know it at first, and so be able to go on, straight
and comfortable ! Which way are you walking, my love ? "
"Towards the city," replied Kate.
" The city ! " cried Miss Knag, regarding herself with
great favor in the glass as she tied her bonnet. " Good-
ness gracious me ! now do you really live in the city ? "
" Is it so very unusual for anybody to live there ? " asked
Kate, half smiling.
" I couldn't have believed it possible that any young wo-
man could have lived there, under any circumstances what-
ever, for three days together," replied Miss Knag.
" Reduced — I should say poor people," answered Kate,
correcting herself hastily, for she was afraid of appearing
proud, "must live where they can."
" Ah ! very true, so they must ; very proper indeed ! " re-
joined Miss Knag with that sort of half sigh, which, accom-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 221
panied by two or three slight nods of the liead, is pity's small
change in general society ; " and that's what I very often tell
my brother, when our servants go away ill, one after another,
and he thinks the back kitchen's rather too damp for 'em to
sleep in. These sort of people, I tell him, are glad to sleep
anywhere ! Heaven suits the back to the burden. What a
nice thing it is to think that it should be so, isn't it .'' "
"Ver}^," replied Kate.
" I'll walk with you part of the w^ay, my clear," said Miss
Knag, " for you must go very near our house ; and as it's quite
dark, and our last servant went to the hospital a week ago,
with Saint Anthony's fire in her face, I shall be glad of your
company."
Kate would willingly have excused herself from this flatter-
ing companionship ; but Miss Knag having adjusted her bon-
net to her entire satisfaction, took her arm with an air which
plainly showed how much she felt the compliment she was
conferring, and they were in the street before she could say
another word.
" I fear," said Kate, hesitating, "that mamma — my mother,
I mean — is waiting for me."
" You needn't make the least apology, my dear," said Miss
Knag, smiling sweetly as she spoke ; " I dare say she is a very
respectable old person, and I shall be quite — hem — quite
pleased to know her."
As poor Mrs. Nickleby was cooling — not her heels alone,
but her limbs generally at the street corner, Kate had no
alternative but to make her known to Miss Knag, who, doing
the last new carriage customer at second-hand, acknowledsed
the introduction with condescending politeness. The three
then walked away, arm in arm : with Miss Knag in the middle,
in a special state of amiability.
" I have taken such a fancy to your daughter, Mrs. Nickle-
by, 3'ou can't think," said Miss Knag, after she hadproceeded
a little distance in dignified silence.
" I am delighted to hear it," said Mrs. Nickleby ; " though
it is nothing new to me, that even strangers should like Kate."
" Hem ! " cried Miss Knag.
" You will like her better when you know how good she
is," said Mrs. Nickleby. " It is a great blessing to me, in my
misfortunes, to have a child, who knows neither pride nor
vanity, and whose bringing-up might very well have excused
a little of both at first. You don't know w^hat it is to lose a
husband, Miss Knag."
22 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
As Miss Knag had never yet known what it was to gain
one, it followed, very nearly as a matter of course, that she
didn't know what it was to lose one ; so she said, in some
haste, " No, indeed I don't," and said it with an air intending
to signify that she should like to catch herself marrying any-
body— no no, she knew better than that.
" Kate has improved even in this little time, I have no
doubt," said Mxs. Nickleby, glancing proudly at her daughter.
" Oh ! of course," said Miss Knag.
" And will improve still more," added Mrs. Nickleby.
"That she will, I'll be bound," replied Miss Knag, squeez-
ing Kate's arm in her own, to point the joke.
" She always was clever," said poor Mrs. Nickleby, bright-
ening up, " always, from a baby. I recollect when she was
only two years and a half old, that a gentleman who used to
visit very much at our house — Mr. Watkins, you know, Kate,
my dear, that your poor papa went bail for, who afterwards
ran away to the United States, and sent us a pair of snow
shoes, with such an affectionate letter that it made your poor
dear father cry for a week. You remember the letter .? In
which he said that he was very sorry he couldn't repay the
fifty pounds just then, because his capital was all out at in-
terest, and he was very busy making his fortune, but that he
didn't forget you were his god-daughter, and he should take
it very unkind if we didn't buy you a silver coral and put it
down to his old account ? Dear me, yes, my dear, how stupid
you are ! and spoke so affectionately of the old port wine that
he used to drink a bottle and a half of every time he came.
You must remember, Kate ? "
" Yes, yes, mama ; what of him ? "
" Why, that Mr. Watkins, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby
slowly, as if she were making a tremendous effort to recollect
something of paramount importance ; " that Mr. Watkins — he
wasn't any relation, Miss Knag will understand, to the Wat-
kins who kept the Old Boar in the village ; by the bye, I don't
remember whether it was the Old Boar or the George the
Third, but it was one of the two, I know, and it's much the same
— that Mr. Watkins said, when you were only two years and a
half old, that you were one of the most astonishing cliildren
he ever saw. He did indeed. Miss Knag, and he wasn't at all
fond of children, and couldn't have had the slightest moti\-e
for doing it. 1 know it was he who said so, because I recol-
lect, as well as if it was only yesterday, his borrowing twenty
pounds of her poor dear papa the very moment afterwards."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
223
Having quoted this extraordinary and most disinterested
testimony to her daughter's excellence, Mrs. Nickleby stopped
to breathe ; and Miss Knag, finding that the discourse was
turning upon family greatness, lost no time in striking in, with
a small reminiscence on her own account.
" Don't talk of lending money, Mrs. Nickleby," said Miss
Knag, " or you'll drive me crazy, perfectly crazy. My mama
— hem — was the most lovely and beautiful creature, with the
most striking and exquisite — hem — the most exquisite nose
that ever was put upon a human face, I do believe, Mrs.
Nickleby (here Miss Knag rubbed her own nose sympathetic-
ally) ; the most delightful and accomplished woman, perhaps,
that ever was seen ; but she had that one failing of lending
money, and carried it to such an extent that she lent — hem —
oh ! thousands of pounds, all our little fortunes, and what's
more, Mrs. Nickleby, I don't think, if we were to live till —
till — hem — till the very end of time, that we should ever get
them back again. I don't indeed."
After concluding this effort of invention without being
interrupted. Miss Knag fell into many more recollections, no
less interesting than true, the full tide of which, Mrs. Nick-
leby in vain attempting to stem, at length sailed smoothly
down, by adding an under-current of her own recollections ;
and so both ladies went on talking together in perfect con-
tentment ; the only difference between them, being, that
whereas Miss Knag addressed herself to Kate, and talked
very loud, Mrs. Nickleby kept on in one unbroken monoton-
ous flow, perfectly satisfied to be talking, and caring very
little whether anybody listened or not.
In this manner they walked on, very amicably, until they
arrived at Miss Knag's brother's, who was an ornamental
stationer and small circulating librar}' keeper in a by-street
off Tottenham Court Road ; and who let out by the day,
week, month, or year, the newest old novels, whereof the titles
were displayed in pen-and-ink characters on a sheet of paste-
board, swinging at his door-post. As Miss Knag happened
at tlie moment, to be in the middle of an account of her
twenty-second offer from a gentleman of large property, she
insisted upon their all going in to supper together ; and in
they went.
" Don't go away, Mortimer," said Miss Knag as they
entered the shop. " It's only one of our young ladies and
her mother. Mrs. and Miss Nickleby."
224 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY-
"Oh, indeed!" said Mr. Mortimer Knag. "Ah !"
Having given utterance to these ejaculations, with a very
profound and thoughtful air, Mr. Knag slowly snuffed two
kitchen candles on the counter, and two more in the window,
and then snuffed himself from a box in his waistcoat pocket.
There was something very impressive in the ghostly air
with which all this was done ; and as Mr. Knag was a tall
lank gentleman of solemn features, wearing spectacles, and
garnished with much less hair than a gentleman bordering on
forty, or thereabouts, usually boasts, Mrs. Nickleby whispered
her daughter that she thought he must be literary.
"Past ten," said Mr. Knag, consulting his watch.
" Thomas, close the warehouse."
Thomas was a boy nearly half as tall as a shutter, and the
warehouse was a shop about the size of three hackney coaches.
" Ah 1 " said Mr. Knag once more, heaving a deep sigh as
he restored to its parent shelf the book he had been reading.
" Well — yes — I believe supper is ready, sister."
With another sigh Mr. Knag took up the kitchen candles
from the counter, and preceded the ladies with mournful
steps to a back parlor, where a charwoman, employed in the
absence of the sick servant, and remunerated with certain
eighteenpences to be deducted from her wages due, was put-
ting the supper out.
" Mrs. Blockson," said Miss Knag, reproachfully, " how
very often I have begged you not to come Vito the room with
your bonnet on ! "
"I can't help it. Miss Knag," said the char-woman, brid-
ling up on the shortest notice. " There's been a deal o' clean-
ing to do in this house, and if you don't like it, I must trouble
you to look out for somebody else, for it don't hardly pay me,
and that's the truth, if I was to be hung this minute."
" I don't want any remarks if you please," said Miss
Knag, with a strong emphasis on the personal pronoun. " Is
there any fire down stairs for some hot water presently? "
" No there is not, indeed. Miss Knag," replied the sub-
stitute ; " and so I won't tell you no stories about it."
"Then why isn't there? " said Miss Knag.
" Because there an't no coals left out, and if I could make
coals I would, but as I can't I won't, and so I make bold to
tell you, Mem," replied Mrs. Blockson.
" Will you hold your tongue — female ? " said Mr. Morti-
mer Knag, plunging violently into this dialogue.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 225
"By your leave, Mr. Knag," retorted the char-woman,
turning sharp round. "I'm only too glad not to ^pjak in
this house, excepting when and where I'm spoke to, sir ; and
with regard to being a female, sir, I should wish to know what
you considered yourself.'' "
" A miserable wretch," exclaimed Mr. Knag, striking his
forehead. " A miserable wretch."
" I'm very glad to find that you don't call yourself out of
your name, sir," said Mrs. Blockson ; " and as I had two twin
children the day before yesterday was only seven weeks, and
my little Charley fell down a air}- and put his elber out, last
Monday, I shall take it as a favior if you'll send nine shil-
lings, for one week's work, to my house, afore the clock
strikes ten to-morrow."
With these parting words, the good woman quitted the
room with great ease of manner, leaving the door wide open ;
Mr. Knag, at the same moment, flung himself into the " ware-
house," and groaned aloud.
" What is the matter with that gentleman, pray ? " inquired
Mrs. Nickleby, greatly disturbed by the sound.
" Is he ill ? " inquired Kate, really alarmed.
" Hush ! " replied Miss Knag ; " a most melancholy his-
tory. He was once most devotedly attached to — hem — to
Madame Mantalini."
" Bless me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby.
" Yes," continued Miss Knag, " and received great en-
couragement too, and confidently hoped to marry her. He
has a most romantic heart, Mrs. Nickleby, as indeed — hem —
as indeed all our family have, and the disappointment was a
dreadful blow. He is a wonderfully accomplished man — most
extraordinarily accomplished — reads — hem — reads ever}' novel
that comes out ; I mean ever)' novel that — hem — that has any
fashion in it, of course. The fact is, that he did find so much
in the books he read, applicable to his own misfortunes, and
did find himself in every respect so much like the heroes —
because of course he is conscious of his own superiority, as
we all are, and very naturally — that he took to scorning every-
thing, and became a genius ; and I am quite sure that he is,
at this very present moment, writing another book."
" Another book ! " repeated Kate, finding that a pause
was left for somebody to say something.
" Yes," said Miss Knag, nodding in great triumph ; " an-
other book, in three volumes post octavo. Of course it's a
IS
226 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
great advantage to him, in all his little fashionable descrip-
tions, to have the benefit of my — hem — of my experience,
because, of course, few authors who write about such things
can have such opportunities of knowing them as I have. He's
so wrapped up in high life, that the least allusion to business
or worldly matters — like that woman just now, for instance —
quite distracts him ; but, as I often say, I think his disappoint-
ment a great thing for him, because if he hadn't been dis-
appointed he couldn't have written about blighted hopes and
all that ; and the fact is, if it hadn't happened as it has, I
don't believe his genius would ever have come out at all."
How much more communicative Miss Knag might have
become under more favorable circumstances, it is impossible
to divine, but as the gloomy one was within ear-shot, and the
fire wanted making up, her disclosures stopped here. To
judge from all appearances, and the difficulty of making the
water warm, the last servant could not have been much accus-
tomed to any other fire than St. Anthony's ; but a little brandy
and water was made at last, and the guests, having been pre-
viously regaled with cold leg of mutton and bread and cheese,
soon afterwards took leave ; Kate amusing herself, all the
way home, with the recollection of her last glimpse of Mr.
Mortimer Knag deeply abstracted in the shop ; and Mrs.
Nickleby by debating within herself whether the dress-making
firm would ultimately become " Mantalini, Knag, and Nickle-
by," or " Mantalini, Nickleby, and Knag."
As this high point. Miss Knag's friendship remained, for
three whole days, much to the wonderment of Madame Man-
talini's young ladies, who had never beheld such constancy in
that quarter before ; but on the fourth, it received a check no
less violeat than sudden, which thus occurred.
It happened that an old lord of great family, who was
going to marry a young lady of no family in particular, came
with the young lady, and the young lady's sister, to witness
the ceremony of trying on two nuptial bonnets which had
been ordered the day before, and Madame Mantalini announc-
ing the fact, in a shrill treble, through the speaking-pipe,
which communicated with the work-room. Miss Knag darted
hastily up stairs with a bonnet in each hand, and presented
herself in the show-room, in a charming state of palpitation,
intended to demonstrate her enthusiasm in the cause. The
bonnets were no sooner fairly on, than Miss Knag and
Madame Mantalini fell into convulsions of admiration.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 227
'•A most elegant appearance," said Madame Mantalini.
" I never saw anything so exquisite in all my life," said
Miss Knag.
Now, the old lord, who was a very old lord, said nothing,
but mumbled and chuckled in a state of great delight, no less
with the nuptial bonnets and their wearers, than with his own
address in getting such a fine woman for his wife ; and the
young lady, who was a very lively young lady, seeing the old
lord in this rapturous condition, chased the old lord behind a
cheval-glass, and then and there kissed him, while Madame
Mantalini and the other young lady looked, discreetly, another
way.
But, pending the salutation. Miss Knag, who was tinged
with curiosity, stepped accidentally behind the glass^ and en-
countered the lively young lady's eye just at the ver}' moment
when she kissed the old lord ; upon which the young lady, in
a pouting manner, murmured something about " an old thing,"
and ''great impertinence," and finished by darting a look of
displeasure at Miss Knag, and smiling contemptuously.
"Madame Mantalini," said the young lady.
" Ma'am," said Madame Mantalini.
" Pray have up that pretty young creature we saw yester-
day."
"Oh yes, do," said the sister.
" Of all things in the world, Madame Mantalini," said the
lord's intended, throwing herself languidly on a sofa, " I hate
being waited upon by frights or elderly persons. Let me
always see that young creature, I beg, whenever I come."
"By all means," said the old lord; "the lovely young
creature, by all means."
" Everybody is talking about her," said the young lady, in
the same careless manner ; " and my lord, being a great
admirer of beauty, must positively see her."
" She is universally admired," replied Madame Mantalini.
" Miss Knag, send up Miss Nickleby. You needn't return."
" I beg your pardon, Madame Mantalini, what did you
^ay^ast ? " asked Miss Knag, trembling. ^^
"You needn't return," repeated the superior, sharply.
Miss Knag vanished without another word, and in all reason-
able time was replaced by Kate, who took off the new bonnets
and put on the old ones : blushing very much to find that
the old lord and the two young ladies were staring her out o^
countenance all the time.
2 28 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Why, how you color, child ! " said the lord's chosen
bride.
" She is not quite so accustomed to her business, as she
will be in a week or two," interposed Madame Mantalini with
a gracious smile.
" I am afraid you have been giving her some of your wicked
looks, my lord," said the intended.
" No, no, no," replied the old lord, " no, no, I'm going to
be married, and lead a new life. Ha, ha, ha ! a new life, a
new life ! ha, ha, ha ! "
It was a satisfactory thing to hear that the old gentleman
was going to lead a new life, for it was pretty evident that his
old one would not last him much longer. Thb mere exertion
of protracted chuckling reduced him to a fearful ebb of cough-
ing and gasping ; it was some minutes before he could find
breath to remark that the girl was too prett)- for a milliner.
" I hope you don't think good looks a disqualification for
the business, my lord," said Madame Mantalini, simpering.
" Not by any means," replied the old lord, " or you would
have left it long ago. "
"You naughty creature," said the lively lady, poking the
peer with her parasol ; " I won't have you talk so. How
dare you .'' "
This playful inquiry was accompanied with another poke,
and another, and then the old lord caught the parasol, and
wouldn't give it up again, which induced the other lady to
come to the rescue, and some very pretty sportiveness ensued.
" You will see that those little alterations are made,
Madame Mantalini," said the lady. " Nay, you bad man, you
positivelv shall go first ; I wouldn't leave you behind with
that pretty girl, not for half a second. I know you too well.
Jane, my dear," let him go first, and we shall be quite sure of
him."
The old lord, evidently much flattered by this suspicion,
bestowed a grotesque leer upon Kate as he passed ; and re-
ceiving another tap with the parasol for his wickedness,
tottered down stairs to the door, where his sprightly body
was hoisted into the carriage by two stout footmen.
" Foh ! " said Madame Mantalini, " how he ever gets into
a carriage without thinking of a hearse, /can't think. There,
take the things away, my dear, take them away."
Kate, who had remained during the whole scene with her
eyes modestly fixed upon the ground, was only too happy to
>
o
■z -
W73
r
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 229
avail herself of the permission to retire, and hasten joyfully
down stairs to Miss Knag's dominion.
The circumstances of the little kingdom had greatly
changed, however, during the short period of her absence.
In place of Miss Knag being stationed in her accustomed
seat, preserving all the dignity and greatness of Madame
Mantalini's representative, that worthy soul was reposing on a
large box, bathed in tears, while three or four of the young
ladies in close attendance upon her, together with the presence
of hartshorn, vinegar, and other restoratives, would have
borne ample testimony, even without the derangement of the
head-dress and front row of curls, to her having fainted
desperately.
" Bless me ! " said Kate, stepping hastily forward, " What
is the matter ? "
This inquiry produced in Miss Knag violent symptoms uf
a relapse \ and several young ladies, darting angry looks at
Kate, applied more vinegar and hartshorn, and said it was " a
shame."
" What is a shame ? " demanded Kate. " What is the
matter.-* What has happened .-' tell me."
" Matter ! " cried Miss Knag, coming, all at once, bolt
upright, to the great consternation of the assembled maidens \
" Matter ! Fie upon you, you nasty creature ! "
" Gracious ! " cried Kate, almost paralyzed by the violence
with which the adjective had been jerked out from between
Miss Knag's closed teeth ; " have /offended you ? "
" YoH offended me ! " retorted Miss Knag, " You ! a chit,
a child, an upstart nobody ! Oh, indeed ! Ha, ha ! "
Now, it was evident, as Miss Knag laughed, that some-
thing struck her as being exceedingly funny ; and as the
young ladies took their tone from Miss Knag — she being the
chief — they all got up a laugh without a moment's delay, and
nodded their heads a little, and smiled sarcastically to each
other, as much as to say, how very good that was !
" Here she is," continued Miss Knag, getting off the box,
and introducing Kate with much ceremony and many low
curtseys to the delighted throng ; " here she is — everybody
is talking about her — the belle, ladies — the beauty, the — oh,
you bold-faced thing ! "
Here Miss Knag was unable to repress a virtuous shud-
der, which immediately communicated itself to all the young
ladies j after which, Miss Knag laughed, and after that cried.
230
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Foi* fifteen years," exclaimed Miss Knag, sobbing in a
most affecting manner, " for fifteen years liave I been tlie
credit and ornament of this room and the one up stairs.
Tliank God," said Miss Knag, stamping first her right foot
and then her left with remarkable energy, " I have never
in all that time, till now, been exposed to the arts, the vile
arts, of a creature, who disgraces us with all her proceedings,
and makes proper people blush for themselves. But I feel it,
I do feel it, although I am disgusted."
Miss Knag here relapsed into softness, and the young
ladies renewing their attentions, murmured that she ought to
be superior to such things, and that for their part they despised
them, and considered them beneath their notice ; in witness
whereof, they called out, more emphatically than before, that
it was a shame, and that they felt so angry, they did, they
hardly knew what to do with themselves.
" Have I lived to this day to be called a fright ! " cried
Miss Knag, suddenly becoming convulsive, and making an
effort to tear her front off.
" Oh no, no," replied the chorus, " pray don't say so ;
don't now ! "
" Have I deserved to be called an elderly person ? "
screamed Miss Knag, wrestling with the supernumeraries.
"Don't think of such things, dear," answered the chorus.
"I hate her," cried Miss Knag; " I detest and hate her.
Never let her speak to me again ; never let anybody who is a
friend of mine speak to her ; a slut, a hussy, an impudent art-
ful hussy ! " Having denounced the object of her wrath, in
these terms. Miss Knag screamed once, hiccupped thrice,
gurgled in her throat several times, slumbered, shivered, woke,
came to, composed her head-dress, and declared herself quite
well again.
Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings, at first, in
perfect bewilderment. She had then turned red and pale
by turns, and once or twice essayed to speak ; but, as the true
motives of this altered behavior developed themselves, she
retired a few paces, and looked calmly on without deigning
a reply. Nevertheless, although she walked proudly to her
seat, and turned her back upon the group of little satellites
who clustered round their ruling planet in the remotest corner
of the room, she gave way, in secret, to some such bitter tears
as would have gladdened Miss Knag's inmost soul, if she
could have seen them fall.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. „ , ^
231
CHAPTER XIX.
r'f
DESCRIPTIVE OF A DINNER AT MR. RALPH NICKLEBY S AND
OF THE MANNER IN WHICH THE COMPANY ENTERTAINED
THEMSELVES, BEFORE DINNER, AT DINNER, AND AFTER
DINNER,
The bile and rancor of the worthy Miss Knag undergoing
no diminution during the remainder of the week, but rather
augmenting with every successive hour ; and the honest ire of
all the young ladies rising, or seeming to rise in exact propor-
tion to the good spinster's indignation, and both waxing very
hot every time Miss Nickleby was called up stairs ; it will be
readily imagined that that young lady's daily life was none of
the most cheerful or enviable kind. She hailed the arrival
of Saturday night, as a prisoner would a few delicious hours'
respite from slow and wearing torture, and felt that the poor
pittance for the first week's labor would have been dearly and
hardly earned, had its amount been trebled.
When she joined her mother, as usual, at the street corner,
she was not a little surprised to find her in conversation with
Mr. Ralph Nickleby ; but her surprise was soon redoubled,
no less by the matter of their conversation, than by the
smoothed and altered manner of Mr. Nickleby himself.
" Ah ! my dear ! " said Ralph ; " we were at that moment
talking about you."
Ci Indeed!" replied Kate, shrinking, though she scarce
knewwhy, trom her uncle's cold glistening eye.
^~ " ThaT'TfTStant,'" said Ralpli. " I was coming to call for
you, making sure to catch you before you left ; but your
mother and I have been talking over family affairs, and the
time has slipped away so rapidly "
"Well, now, hasn't it?" interposed Mrs. Nickleby, quite
insensible to the sarcastic tone of Ralph's last remark,
"Upon my word, I couldn't have believed it possible, that
such a — —Kate, my dear, you're to dine with your uncle at
half-past six o'clock to-morrow."
Triumphing in having been the first to communicate this
extraordinary intelligence, Mrs. Nickleby nodded and smiled
m
232 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
a great many times, to impress its full magnificence on Kate's
wondering mind, and then flew off, at an acute angle, to a
committee of ways and means.
" Let me see," said the good lady. " Your black silk
frock will be quite dress enough, my dear, with that pretty
little scarf, and a plain band in your hair, and a pair of black
silk stock Dear, dear," cried Mrs. Nickleby, flying off at
another angle, " if I had but those unfortunate amethysts of
mine — you recollect them, Kate, my love — how they used to
sparkle, you know — but your papa, your poor dear papa —
ah ! there never was anything so cruelly sacrificed as those
jewels were, never ! " Overpowered by this agonizing thought,
Mrs. Nickleby shook her head in a melancholy manner, and
applied her handkerchief to her eyes.
" I don't want them, mama, indeed," said Kate. " Forget
that you ever had them."
"Lord, Kate, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, pettishly,
" how like a child you talk ! Four-and-twenty silver tea-
spoons, brother-in-law, two gravies, four salts, all the ame-
thysts— necklace, brooch, and ear-rings — all made away with,
at the same time, and I saying, almost on my bended knees,
to that poor good soul, ' Why don't you do something,
Nicholas ? Why don't you make some arrangement ? ' I am
sure that anybody who was about us at that time, will do me
the justice to own, that if I said that once, I said it fifty times
a-day. Didn't I, Kate, my dear .'' Did I ever lose an oppor-
tunity of impressing it on your poor papa ? "
" No, no, mama, never," replied Kate. And to do Mrs.
Nickleby justice, she never had lost — and to do married ladies
as a body justice, they seldom do lose — any occasion of in-
culcating similar golden precepts, whose only blemish is, the
slight degree of vagueness and uncertainty in which they are
usually enveloped.
" Ah ! " said Mrs. Nickleby, with great fervor, " if my
advice had been taken at the begin.ning — Well, I have always
done my duty, and that's some comfort."
When she had arrived at this reflection, Mrs. Nickleby
sighed, rubbed her hands, cast up her eyes, and finally
assumed a look of meek composure ; thus importing that she
was a persecuted saint, but that she wouldn't trouble h.er
hearers by mentioning a circumstance which must be so
obvious to everybody.
" Now," said Ralph, with a smile, which, in common with
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 233
all other tokens of emotion, seemed to skulk under his face,
rather than play boldly over it — " to return to the point from
which we have strayed. I have a little party of — of — gentle-
men with whom I am connected in business just now, at my
house to-morrow ; and your mother has promised that you
shall keep house for me. I am not much used to parties ;
but this is one of business, and such fooleries are an impor-
tant part of it sometimes. You don't mind obliging me ? "
" Mind ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby. " My dear Kate, why — "
" Pray," interrupted Ralph, motioning lier to be silent.
" I spoke to my niece."
" I shall be very glad, of course, uncle," replied Kate ;
" but I am afraid you will find me awkward and embar-
rassed."
" Oh no," said Ralph ; " come when you like, in a hack-
ney coach — I'll pay for it. Good-night — a — a — God bless
you."
The blessing seemed to stick in Mr. Ralph Nickleby's
throat, as if it were not used to the thoroughfare, and didn't
know the way out. But it got out somehow, though awk-
wardly enough ; and having disposed of it, he shook hands
with his two relatives, and abruptly left them.
" What a very strongly marked countenance your uncle
has ! " said Mrs. Nickleby, quite struck with his parting look.
" I don't see the slightest resemblance to his poor brother."
" Mama ! " said'Kate reprovingly. " To think of such a
thing ! "
"No," said Mrs. Nickleby, musing. "There certainly is
none. But it's a very honest face."
The worthy matron made this remark with great emphasis
and elocution, as if it comprised no small quantity of ingenuity
and research ; and, in truth, it was not unworthy of being
classed among the extraordinary discoveries of the age. Kate
looked up hastily, and as hastily looked down again.
" What has come over you, my dear, in the name of good-
ness ? " asked Mrs. Nickleby, when they had walked on, for
some time, in silence.
"I was only thinking, mama," answered Kate.
" Thinking ! " repea'ted Mrs. Nickleby. " Ay, and indeed
plenty to think about, too. Your uncle has taken a strong
fancy to you, that's quite clear ; and if some extraordinary
good fortune doesn't come to you, after this, I shall be a little
surprised, that's all."
234 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
With this she launched out into sundry anecdotes of
young Ladies, who had had thousand pound notes given them
in reticules, by eccentric uncles ; and of young ladies who
had accidentally met amiable gentlemen of enormous wealth
at their uncles' houses, and married them, after short but
ardent courtships ; and Kate, listening first in apathy, and
afterwards in amusement, felt, as they walked home, some-
thing of her mother's sanguine complexion gradually awaken-
ing in her own bosom, and began to think that her prospects
might be bri^tening, and that better days might be dawning
upon themTSuch is hope, Heaven's own gift to struggling
mortals ; pervading, like some subtle essence from the skies,
all things, both good aod—bad ; as universal as death, and
more infectious than disease,!
""^ Tlie feeble winter's sun-^and winter's suns in the city are
very feeble indeed — might have brightened up, as he shone
through the dim windows of the large old house, on witness-
ing the unusual sight which one half-furnished room displayed.
In a gloomy corner, where, for years, had stood a silent dusty
pile of merchandise, sheltering its colony of mice, and frown-
ing, a dull and lifeless mass, upon the panelled room, save
when, responding to the roll of heavy wagons in the street
without, it quaked with sturdy tremblings and caused the
bright eyes of its tiny citizens to grow brighter still with fear,
and struck them motionless, with attentive ear and palpitating
heart, until the alarm had passed away — in this dark corner,
was arranged, with scrupulous care, all Kate's little finery for
the day ; each article of dress partaking of that indescribable
air of jauntiness and individuality which empty garments —
whether by association, or that they become moulded, as it
were, to the owner's form — will take, in eyes accustomed to,
or picturing, the wearer's smartness. In place of a bale of
musty goods, there lay the black silk dress ; the neatest pos-
sible figure in itself. The small shoes, with toes delicately
turned out, stood upon the very pressure of some old iron
weight ; and a pile of harsh discolored leather had uncon-
sciously given place to the very same little pair of black silk
stockings, which had been the objects of Mrs. Nickleby's
peculiar care. Rats and mice, and such small gear, had long
ago been starved, or had emigrated to better quarters : and,
in their stead, appeared gloves, bands, scarfs, hair-pins, and
many other little de\ices, almost as inirenious in their way as
rats and mice themselves, for the tantalization of mankind.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
^35
A.bout and among them all, moved Kate herself, not the least
beautiful or unwonted relief to the stern, old, gloomy building.
In good time, or in bad time, as the reader likes to take it
• — for Mrs. Nickleby's impatience went a great deal faster
than the clocks at that end of the town, and Kate was dressed
to the very last hair-pin a full hour and a half before it was at
all necessary to begin to think about it — in good time, or in
bad time, the toilet was completed ; and it being at length the
hour agreed upon for starting, the milkman fetched a coach
from the nearest stand, and Kate, with many adieux to her
mother, and many kind messages to Miss La Creevy, who
was to come to tea, seated herself in it, and went away in
state, if ever anybody went away in state in a hackney coach
yet. And the coach, and the coachman, and the horses, rat-
tled, and jangled, and whipped, and cursed, and swore, and
tumbled on together, until they came to Golden Square.
The coachman gave a tremendous double knock at the
door, which was opened long before he had done, as quickly
as if there had been a man behind it, with his hand tied to
the latch. Kate, who had expected no more uncommon ap-
pearance than Newman Noggs in a clean shirt, was not a lit-
tle astonished to see that the opener was a man in handsome
livery, and that there were two or three others in the hall.
There was no doubt about its being the right house, however,
for there was the name upon the door ; so she accepted the
laced coat-sleeve which was tendered her, and entering the
house, was ushered up stairs, into a back drawing-room,
where she was left alone.
If she had been surprised at the apparition of the foot-
man, she was perfectly absorbed in amazement at the richness
and splendor of the furniture. The softest and most elegant
carpets, the most exquisite pictures, the costliest mirrors ;
articles of richest ornament, quite dazzling from their beauty,
and perplexing from the prodigality with which they were
scattered around ; encountered her on every side. The very
staircase nearly down to the hall door, was crammed with
beautiful and luxurious things, as though the house were
brim-full of riches, which, with a very trifling addition, would
fairly run over into the street.
Presently, she heard a series of loud double knocks at
the street-door, and after every knock some new voice in the
next room ; the tones of Mr. Ralph Nickleby were easilv dis-
tinguishable at first, but by degrees they merged into the
236 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
general buzz of conversation, and all she could ascertain was,
that there were several gentlemen with no very musical voices,
who talked very loud, laughed very heartily, and swore more
than she would have thought quite necessary. But this was
a question of taste.
At length, the door opened, and Ralph himself, divested
of his boots, and ceremoniously embellished with black silks
and shoes, presented his crafty face.
" I couldn't see you before, my dear," he said, in a low
tone, and pointing, as he spoke, to the next room. " I was
engaged in receiving them. Now — shall I take you in t "
" Pray, uncle," said Kate, a little fiurried, as people
much more conversant with society often are, when they are
about to enter a room full of strangers, and have had time to
think of it previously, " are there any ladies here ? "
" No," said Ralph, shortly, " I don't know any."
" Must I go in immediately ? " asked Kate, drawing back
a little.
" As you please," said Ralph, shrugging his shoulders.
" They are all come, and dinner will be announced directly
afterwards — that's all."
Kate would have entreated a few minutes' respite, but
reflecting that her uncle might consider the payment of the
hackney-coach fare a sort of bargain for her punctuality, she
suffered him to draw her arm through his, and to lead her
away.
Seven or eight gentlemen were standing round the fire
when they went in, and, as they were talking very loud, were
not aware of their entrance until Mr. Ralph Nickleby, touch-
ing one on the coat-sleeve, said in a harsh emphatic voice, as
if to attract general attention —
" Lord Frederick Verisopht, my niece, Miss Nickleby."
The group dispersed, as if in great surprise, and the gen-
tleman addressed, turning round, exhibited, a suit of clothes
of the most superlative cut, a pair of whiskers of similar
quality, a moustache, a head of hair, and a young face.
" Eh !" said the gentleman. "What — the — deyvle ! "
With which broken ejaculations, he fixed his glass in his
eye, and stared at Miss Nickleby in great surprise.
" My niece, my lord," said Ralph.
"Then my ears did not deceive me, and it's not wa-a-x
works," said his lordship. " How de do? I'm very happy."
And then his lordship turned to another superlative gentle-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
237
man, something older, something stouter, something redder in
the face, and something longer upon town, and said in a loud
whisper that the girl was "deyvlish pitty."
" Introduce me, Nickleby," said this second gentleman,
who was lounging with his back to the fire, and both elbows
on the chimney-piece.
" Sir Mulberry Hawk," said Ralph.
" Otherwise the most knowing card in the pa-ack. Miss
Nickleby," said Lord Frederick Verisopht.
" Don't leave me out, Nickleby," cried a sharp-faced
gentleman, who was sitting on a low chair with a high back,
reading the paper.
" Mr. Pyke," said Ralph.
" Nor me, Nickleby," cried a gentleman with a flushed
face and a flash air, from the elbow of Sir Mulberry Hawk.
" Mr. Pluck," said Ralph. Then wheeling about again,
towards a gentleman with the neck of a stork and the legs of
no animal in particular, Ralph introduced him as the Honor-
able Mr. Snobb ; and a white-headed person at the table as
Colonel Chowser. The colonel was in conversation with
somebody, who appeared to be a make-weight, and was not
introduced at all.
There were two circumstances which, in this early stage of
the party, struck home to Kate's„ bosom,, and brought the«
hlnnH^trn^in^IO.-hpr ^arp." <,)ne,, wn^; the flippant contempt
wjtFjvhich the guests evidently regarded her uncle, and the
other^the easy msolence ot tlieir' manner towards herself.
TlTarflTe~frrstsyTrrptnm was ver}' likely to lead to the aggrava-
tion'of the second, it needed no groat penetration to foresee.
Ancl'hcrc ^Tr. RaTph'Xieklebv had reckoned without his'host ;
for howe\er fresh from the count ly a young lady (by nature)
may be, and however unacquainted with conventional be-
havior, the chances are, that she will have quite as strong an
innate sense of the decencies aud proprieties of life as if she
had run the gauntlet of a dozen London seasons — possibly a
stronger one, for such senses have been known to blunt in
this improving process.
When Ralph had completed the ceremonial of introduc-
tion, he led his blushing niece to a seat. As he did so. he
glanced warily round as though to assure himself of the im-
pression which her unlooked-for appearance had created.
" An unexpected playsure, Nickleby," said Lord Frederick
Verisopht, taking his glass out of his right eye, where it had,
238
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
until now, done duty on Kate, and fixing it in his left, to bring
it to bear on Ralph.
" Designed to surprise you. Lord Frederick," said Mr.
Pluck.
" Not a bad idea," said his lordship, " and one that would
almost warrant the addition of an extra two and a half per
cent."
" Nickleby," said Sir Mulberrj' Hawk, in a thick coarse
voice, " take the hint, and tack it on to the other five-and-
twenty, or whatever it is, and give me half for the advice."
Sir Mulberry garnished this speech with a hoarse laugh,
and terminated it with a pleasant oath regarding Mr.
Nickleby's limbs, whereat Messrs. Pyke and Pluck laughed
consumedly.
These gentlemen had not yet quite recovered the jest,
when dinner was announced, and then they were thrown into
fresh ecstacies by a similar cause ; for Sir Mulberry Hawk, in
an excess of humor, shot dexterously past Lord Fredtrick
Verisopht who was about to lead Kate down stairs, and drew
her arm through his up to the elbow.
"No, damn it, Verisopht," said Sir Mulberry, "fair play's
a jewel, and Miss Nickleby and I settled the matter with our
eyes, ten minutes ago."
" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the Honorable Mr. Snobb, " very
good, very good."
Rendered additionally witty by this applause. Sir Mulberry
Hawk leered upon his friends most facetiously, and led Kate
down stairs with an air of familiarity, which roused in her
gentle breast such burning indignation, as she felt it almost
impossible to repress. Nor was the intensity of these feelings
at all diminished, when she found herself placed at the top of
the table, with Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick
Verisopht on either side.
" Oh, you'\'e found your way into our neighborhood, have
you? " said Sir Mulberry as his lordship sat down.
"Of course," replied Lord Frederick, fixing his eyes on
Miss Nickleby, " how can you a-ask me .'' "
" Well, you attend to your dinner," said Sir Mulberr}',
" and don't mind Miss Nickleby and me, for we shall prove
very indifferent company, I dare say."
" I wish you'd interfere here, Nickleby," said Lord Fred-
erick.
"What is the matter, my lord? " demanded Ralph from
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 239
the bottom of the table, where he was supported by Messrs.
Pyke and PUick.
"This fellow, Hawk, is monopolizing your niece," said
Lord Frederick.
" He has a tolerable share of every thing that you lay claim
to, my lord," said Ralph with a sneer.
" 'Gad, so he has," replied the young man ; " deyvle take
me if I know which is master in my house, he or I."
"/know," muttered Ralph.
"I think I shall cut him off with a shilling," said the young
nobleman, jocosely.
" No, no, curse it," said Sir Mulberry. " When you come
to the shilling — the last shilling — I'll cut you fast enough ; but
till then. Til never leave you — you may take your oath of it."
This sally (which was strictly founded on fact), was
received with a general roar, above which, was plainly distin-
guishable the laughter of Mr. Pyke and Mr. Pluck, who were,
evidently. Sir Mulberry's toads in ordinary. Indeed, it was
not difficult to see, that the majority of the company preyed
upon the unfortunate young lord, who, weak and silly as he
was, appeared by far the least vicious of the party. Sir Mul-
berry Hawk was remarkable for his tact in ruining, by himself
and his creatures, young gentlemen of fortune — a genteel and
elegant profession, of which he had undoubtedly gained the
head. With all the boldness of an original genius, he had
struck out an entirely new course of treatment quite opposed
to the usual method ; his custom being, when he had gained
the ascendancy over those he took in hand, rather to keep
them down than to give them their own way ; and to exercise
his vivacity upon them, openly, and without reserve. Thus,
he made them butts, in a double sense, and while he emptied
them with great address, caused them to ring with sundry
well-administered taps, for the diversion of society.
The dinner was as remarkable for the splendor and com-
pleteness of its appointments as the mansion itself, and the
company were remarkable for doing it ample justice, in which
respect Messrs. Pyke and Pluck particularly signalized them-
selves ; these two gentlemen eating of every dish, and drink-
ing of every bottle, with a capacity and perseverance truly
astonishing. They were remarkably fresh, too, notwithstand-
ing their great exertions : for, on the appearance of the
dessert, they broke out again, as if nothing serious had taken
place since breakfast
240 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Well," said Lord Frederick, sipping his first glass of
port, " if this is a discounting dinner all I have to say is,
deyvle take me, if it wouldn't be a good pla-an to get discount
every day."
" You'll have plenty of it, in your time," returned Sir Mul-
berry Hawk ; " Nickleby will tell you that."
"What do you say, Nickleby ? " inquired the young man ;
" am I to be a good customer ? "
•' It depends entirely on circumstances, my lord," replied
Ralph.
"On your lordship's circumstances," interposed Colonel
Chowser of the Militia — and the race-courses.
The gallant colonel glanced at Messrs. Pyke and Pluck
as if he thought they ought to laugh at his joke ; but those
gentlemen, being only engaged to laugh for Sir Mulberry
Hawk, were, to his signal discomfiture, as grave as a pair of
undertakers. To add to his defeat, Sir Mulberry, considering
any such efforts an invasion of his peculiar privilege, eyed
the offender steadily, through his glass, as if astonished at
his presumption, and audibly stated his impression that it was
an " infernal liberty," which being a hint to Lord Frederick,
he put up his glass, and surveyed the object of censure as if
he were some extraordinary wild animal then exhibiting for
the first time. As a matter of course, Messrs. Pvke and Pluck
stared at the individual whom Sir Mulberry Hawk stared at ;
so, the poor colonel, to hide his confusion, was reduced to the
necessity of holding his port before his right eye and affect-
ing to scrutinize its color with the most lively interest.
All this while, Kate had sat as silently as she could,
scarcely daring to raise her eyes, lest they should encounter
the admiring gaze of Lord Frederick Verisopht, or, what was
still more embarrassing, the bold looks of his friend Sir Mul-
berry. The latter gentleman was obliging enough to direct
general attention towards her.
" Here is Miss Nickleby," observed Sir Mulberrj-, "won-
dering why the deuce somebody doesn't make love to her."
" No, indeed,'' said Kate, looking hastily up, " I " and
then she stopped, feeling it would have been better to have
said nothing at all.
" I'll hold any man fifty pounds," said Sir Mulberry, " that
Miss Nickleby can't look in my face, and tell me she wasn't
thinking so."
" Done ! " cried the noble gull. " Within ten minutes."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 241
" Done ! " responded Sir Mulberry. The money was pro-
duced on both sides, and the Honorable Mr. Snobb was
elected to the double office of stake-holder and time-keeper.
'' Pray," said Kate, in great confusion, while these pre-
liminaries were in course of completion. " Pray do not make
me the subject of any bets. Uncle, I cannot really "
"Why not my dear?" replied Ralph, in whose grating
voice, however, there was an unusual huskiness, as though he
sj^oke unwillingly, and would rather that the proposition had
not been broached. " It is done in a moment ; there is noth-
ing in it. If the gentlemen insist on it "
/don't insist on it," said Sir Mulberry, with a loud laugh,
" That is, I by no means insist upon Miss Nickleby's making
the denial, for if she does, I lose ; but I shall be glad to see
her bright eyes, especially as she favors the mahogany so
much."
" So she does, and it's too ba-a-d of you. Miss Nickleby,"
said the noble youth.
" Quite cruel," said Mr. Pyke.
" Horrid cruel," said Mr. Pluck.
"I don't care if I do lose," said Sir Mulberry ; "for one
tolerable look at Miss Nickleby's eyes is worth double the
money."
" More," said Mr. Pyke.
" Far more," said Mr. Pluck.
" How goes the enemy, Snobb ? " asked Sir Mulberry
Hawk.
" Four minutes gone."
" Bravo ! "
"Won't you ma-ake one effort for me. Miss Nickleby?"
asked Lord Frederick, after a short interval.
"You needn't trouble yourself to inquire, my buck," said
Sir Mulberry ; " Miss Nickleby and I understand each other ;
she declares on my side, and shows her taste. You haven't a
chance, old fellow. Time, Snobb? "
" Eight minutes gone."
" Get the money ready," said Sir Mulberry j " You'll soon
hand over."
" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Mr. Pyke.
Mr. Pluck, who always came second, and topped his com-
panion if he could, screamed outright.
The poor girl, who was so overwhelmed with confusion
that she scarcely knew what she did, had determined to remain
16
242
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
perfectly quiet ; but fearing that by so doing she might seem
to countenance Sir Mulberry's boast, which had been uttered
with great coarseness and vulgarity of manner, raised her eyes,
and looked him in the face. There was something so odious,
so insolent, so repulsive in the look which met her, that, with-
out the power to stammer forth a syllable, she rose and hurried
from the room. She restrained her tears by a great effort
until she was alone up stairs, and then gave them vent.
" Capital ! " said Sir Mulberry Hawk, putting the stakes
in his pocket. " That's a girl of spirit, and we'll drink her
health."
It is needless to say, that Pyke and Co. responded, with
great warmth of manner, to this proposal, or that the toast was
drunk with many little insinuations from the firm, relative to
the completeness of Sir Mulberry's conquest. Ralph, who,
while the attention of the other guests was attracted to the
principals in the preceding scene, had eyed them like a wolf,
appeared to breathe more freely now his niece was gone ; the
decanters passing quickly round, he leaned back in his chair,
and turned his eyes from speaker to speaker, as they warmed
with wine, with looks that seemed to search their hearts, and
lay bare, for his distempered sport, every idle thought within
them.
Meanwhile Kate, left wholly to herself, had in some degree,
recovered her composure. She had learnt from a female at-
tendant, that her uncle wished to see her before she left, and
had also gleaned the satisfactory intelligence, that the gentle-
men would take coffee at table. The prospect of seeing them
no more, contributed greatly to calm her agitation, and, taking
up a book, she composed herself to read.
She started sometimes, when the sudden opening of the
dining-room door let loose a wild shout of noisy revelry, and
more than once rose in great alarm, as a fancied footstep on
the staircase impressed her with the fear that some stray mem-
ber of the party was returning alone. Nothing occurring, how-
ever, to realize her apprehensions, she endeavored to fix her
attention more closely on her book, in which by degrees she
became so much interested, that she had read on through sev-
eral chapters without heed of time or place, when she was teri-
fied by suddenly hearing her name pronounced by a man's
voice close at her ear.
The book fell from her hand. Lounging on an ottoman
close beside her, was Sir Mulberry Hawk, evidently the worse
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 243
— if a man be a ruffian at heart, he is never the better — for
wine.
" What a deUghtful studiousness ! " said this accompHshed
gentleman. " Was it real, now, or only to display the eye-
lashes ? "
Kate, looking anxiously towards the door, made no reply.
"I have looked at 'em for five minutes," said Sir Mulberry,
" Upon my soul, they're perfect. Why did I speak, and de-
stroy such a pretty little picture ! "
"Do me the favor to be silent now, sir," replied Kate.
" No, don't," said Sir Mulberr)% folding his crush hat to
lay his elbow on, and bringing himself still closer to the young
lady ; " upon my life, you oughtn't to. Such a devoted slave
of yours, Miss Nickleby — it's an infernal thing to treat him so
harshly, upon my soul it is."
" I wish you to understand, sir," said Kate, trembling in
spite of herself, but speaking with great indignation, " that
your behavior offends and disgusts me. If you have a spark
of gentlemanly feeling remaining, you will leave me."
""Now why," said Sir Mulberry, "why will you keep up
this appearance of excessive rigor, my sweet creature ? Now,
be more natural — My dear Miss Nickleby, be more natural —
do."
Kate hastily rose ; but as she rose, Sir Mulberry caught
her dress, and forcibly detained her.
" Let me go, sir,'" she cried, her heart swelling with anger.
" Do you hear ? Instantly — this moment."
" Sit down, sit down," said Sir Mulberry ; " I want to talk
to you."
" Unhand me, sir, this instant." cried Kate.
" Not for the world," rejoined Sir Mulberry. Thus speak-
ing, he leaned over, as if to replace her in her chair ; but the
young lady, making a violent effort to disengage herself, he
lost his balance, and measured his length upon the ground.
As Kate sprang forward to lea\'e the room, Mr. Ralph Nickleby
appeared in the door-way, and confronted her.
" What is this ? " said Ralph.
" It is this, sir," replied Kate, violently agitated ; " that
beneath the roof where I, a helpless girl, your dead brother's
child, should most have found protection, I have been exposed
to insult which should make you shrink to look upon me. Let
me pass you."
Ralph did shrink, as the indignant girl fixed her kindling
2 44 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
eye upon him ; but he did not comply with het injunction,
nevertheless ; for he led her to a distant seat, and returning,
and approaching Sir Mulberry Hawk, who had by this time
risen, motioned towards the door.
" Your way lies there, sir," said Ralph, in a suppressed
voice, that some devil might have owned with pride.
"What do you mean by that?" asked his friend, fiercely.
The swollen veins stood out like sinews on Ralph's wrinkled
forehead, and the nerves about his mouth worked as though
some unendurable emotion wrung them ; but he smiled dis-
dainfully, and again pointed to the door.
" Do you know me, you old madman ? " asked Sir Mul-
berry.
"Well," said Ralph. The fashionable vagabond for the
moment quite quailed under the steady look of the older sinner,
and walked towards the door, muttering as he went.
" You wanted the lord, did you ? " he said, stopping short
when he reached the door, as if a new light had broken in
upon him, and confronting Ralph again. " Damme, I was in
the wav, was I ? "
Ralph smiled again, but made no answer.
^" Who brought him to you first ? " pursued Sir Mulberry ;
" and how, without me, could you ever have wound him in
your net as you have ? "
" The net is a large one, and rather full," said Ralph.
" Take care that it chokes nobody in the meshes."
" You would sell your flesh and blood for money ; your-
self, if you have not already made a bargain with the devil,"
retorted the other. " Do you mean to tell me that your pretty
niece was not brought here, as a decoy for the drunken boy
down stairs .'' "
Although this hurried dialogue was carried on, in a sup-
pressed tone on both sides, Ralph looked involuntarily round
to ascertain that Kate had not moved her position so as to
be within hearing. His adversary saw the advantage he had
gained, and followed it up.
" Do you mean to tell me," he asked again, " that it is not
so ? Do' you mean to say that if he had found his way up
here instead of me, you wouldn't have been a little more
blind, and a little more deaf, and a little less flourishing, than
you have l)een ? Come Nickleby, answer me that."
'' I tell you this," replied Ralph, " that if I brought her
here, as a matter of business "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 245
" Ay, that's the word," interposed Sir Mulberry, with a
laugh. " You're coming to yourself again now."
" — As a matter of business," pursued Ralph, speaking
slowly and firmly, as a man who has made up his mind to
say no more, " l->praiise T thought she mig;ht make some im-
pression on the silly youtTTyou have taken in Tiand alTd are
leffding "good "heTp* to ruin, I knew — knowing him — that it
would be long before he outraged her girl's feelings, and that
unless he offended by mere puppyism and emptiness, he
would, with a little management, respect the sex and conduct
even of his usurer's niece. But if I thought to draw him on
ifRrre^gently by this device, I did not think of subiecting the
gir-Lto the licentiousness and brutality of so old a hand ~as
you. And now we understand each other."
" Especially as there was nothing to be got by it — eh ? "
sneered Sir Mulberry.
" Exactly so," said Ralph. He had turned away, and
lookedl over his shoulder to make this last reply. The eyes
of the two worthies met, with an expression as if each rascal
felt that there was no disguising himself from the other ; and
Sir Mulberry Hawk shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly
out.
His friend closed the door, and looked restlessly towards
the spot where his niece still remained in the attitude in which
he had left her. She had fiung herself heavily upon the
couch, and with her head drooping over the cushion, and her
face hidden in her hands, seemed to be still weeping in an
agony of shame and grief.
Ralph would have walked_Jnto any poverty-stricken
debtor^shouse. and j>nin^f^d hmi'out to a barm^uTough in.
att'enTIance" upon a young child's death-bed, without the
si^nalk^tconcgiji, because it would have been a matter quite
in The orSmary course^ of by^pess. and the man would have
been a'n ott'ender ap-amst nis onb; code of morality. But,
here was a young girl, who had done no wrong save that of
coming into' the world alive ; who had patiently yielded to all
his wishes ; who had tried hard to please him — above all,
who didn't owe him money — and he felt awkward and ner-
vous.
Ralph took a chair at some distance ; then, another chair
a little nearer ; then, moved a little nearer still ; then again,
and finally sat himself on the same sofa, and laid his hand on
Kate's arm.
246 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Hush, my clear! " he said, as she drew it back, and her
sobs burst out afresh. " Hush, hush ! Dont mind it now ;
don't think of it,"
" Oh, for pity's sake, let me go home," cried Kate. " Let
me leave this house, and go home."
" Yes, yes," said Ralph. " You shall. But you must dry
your eyes first, and compose yourself. Let me raise your
head. There — there."
" Oh, uncle ! " exclaimed Kate, clasping her hands.
" What have I done — what have I done — tliat you should
subject me to this ? If I had wronged you in thought,
or word, or deed, it would have been most cruel to me, and
the memory of one you must have loved in some old time ;
but "
"Only listen to me for a moment," interrupted Ralph,
seriously alarmed by the violence of her emotions. " I didn't
know it would be so ; it was impossible for me to foresee it.
I^d all I could. — Come, let us walk about. You are faint
with the closeness of the room, and the heat of these lamps.
You will be better now, if you make the slightest effort."
" I will do anything," replied Kate, "if you will only send
me home."
"Well, well, I will," said Ralph ; "but you must get back
your own looks ; for those you have, will frighten them, and
nobodymust know of^Jijis-but yQu^ and L Now let us walk
nTe'''otnerwSyr''~T1fiere. You look Better" even now."
With such encouragements as these, Ralph Nickleby walked
to and fro, with his niece leaning on his arm ; actually trem-
bling beneath her touch.
In the same manner, when he judged it prudent to allow
her to depart, he supported her down stairs, after adjusting
her shawl and performing such little offices, most probably
for the first time in his life. Across the hall, and down the
steps, Ralph led her too ; nor did he withdraw his hand, until
she was seated in the coach.
As the door of the vehicle was roughly closed, a comb fell
from Kate's hair, close at her uncle's feet ; and as he picked
it up, and returned it into her hand, the light from a neigh-
boring lamp shone upon her face. The lock of hair that had
escaped and curled loosely over her brow, the traces of tears
yet scarcely dry, the flushed cheek, the look of sorrow, all
fired some dormant train of recollection in the old man's
breast ; and the face of his dead brother seemed present be
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 247
fore him, willi the very look it bore on some occasion of boyish
grief, of which every minutest circumstance flashed upon his
mincl, with the distinctness of a scene of yesterday.
Ralph Nickleby, who was proof against all appeals of
blood .and kindrecl—who^was^ steeled agauisl ^yVyfy Wle" of
sorrow~'an(r"3Istr¥sr-^staggered''^V^^^^ he looked, and went
bacS"mTo"liTrTTouserirrX"ffimr\vhu had seen "a spirit from
some worTdoeyond the grave.
CHAPTER XX.
WHEREIN NICHOLAS AT LENGTH ENCOUNTERS HIS UNCLE, TO
WHOM HE EXPRESSES HIS SENTIMENTS WITH MUCH CAN-
DOR. HIS RESOLUTION.
LiTTTE Miss La Creevy trotted briskly through divers
streets at the west end of the town, early on Monday morning
— the day after the dinner — charged with the important com-
mission of acquainting Madame Mantalini that Miss Nickleby
was too unwell to attend that day, but hoped to be enabled
to resume her duties on the morrow. And as Miss La Creevy
walked along, revolving in her mind various genteel forms
and elegant turns of expression, with a view to the selection
of the very best in which to couch her communication, she
cogitated a good deal upon the probable causes of her young
friend's indisposition.
" I don't know what to make of it," said Miss La Creex^.
" Her eyes were decidedly red last night. She said she had
a head-ache ; head-aches don't occasion red eyes. She must
have been crying."
Arriving at this conclusion, which, indeed, she had estab-
lished to her perfect satisfaction on the previous evening. Miss
La Creevy went on to consider — as she had done nearly all
night — what new cause of unhappiness her young friend could
possibly have had.
" I can't think of anything," said the little portrait painter.
" Nothing at all, unless it was the behavior of that old bear.
Cross to her I suppose ? Unpleasant brute ! "
Relieved by this expression of opinion, albeit it was vented
248 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
upon empty air, Miss La Creevy trotted on to Madame Man-
talini's ; and being informed that the governing power was not
yet out of bed, requested an interview with the second in com-
mand ; whereupon Miss Knag appeared.
" So far as 1 am concerned," said Miss Knag, when the
message had been deHvered, with many ornaments of speech \
" I could spare Miss Nickleby for evermore."
" Oh, indeed, ma'am ! " rejoined Miss La Creevy, highly
offended. " But, you see, you are not mistress of the busi-
ness, and therefore it's of no great consequence."
" Very good, ma'am," said Miss Knag. " Have you any
further commands for me ? "
" No, I have not, ma'am," rejoined Miss La Creevj'.
" Then good morning, ma'am," said Miss Knag.
" Good morning to you, ma'am ; and many obligations for
your extreme politeness and good breeding," rejoined Miss
La Creevy.
Thus terminating the interview during which both ladies
had trembled very much, and been marvellously polite — cer-
tain indications that they were within an inch of a ver)' des-
perate quarrel — Miss La Creevy bounced out of the room, and
into the street.
" I wonder who that is," said the queer little soul " A
nice person to know, I should think ! I wish I had the paint-
ing of her : Fd do her justice." So, feeling quite satisfied
that she had said a very cutting thing at Miss Knag's expense,
Miss La Creevy had a hearty laugh, and went home to break-
fast, in great good humor.
Here was one of the advantages of having lived alone so
long ! The little bustling, active, cheerful creature,^ existed
entirely within herself, talked to herself, made a confidant of
herself, was as sarcastic as she could be, on people who of-
fended her, by herself ; pleased herself, and did no harm. If
she indulged in scandal, nobody's reputation suffered ; and if
she enjoyed a little bit of revenge, no li\ ing soul was one
atom the worse. One of the many to whom, from straitened
circumstances, a consequent inability to form the associations
they would wish, and a disinclination to mix with the society
they could obtain London is as , complete a solitude as the
plains nf .Syria, the; bumble. artist had pursued her lonely, but
contented way for many years ; and, until the peculiar nilsj^r-
tunes of the Nickleby family attracted her attention, had made
no friends, though brimful of the friendliest feelings to all
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
249
niankind. There are many warm Iiearts in the same solitary-
guise as piHjr liulc }ili.^s La C'rcc\y's.
Tin, \ ever, that's neitlier here nor there, just now. She
went Jiume to breakfast, and had scarcely caught the full fla-
vor of her first sip of tea, when the servant announced a gen-
tleman, whereat Miss La Creevy, at once imagining a new
sitter, transfixed by admiration at the street-door case, was in
unspeakable consternation at the presence of the tea-things.
" Here, take 'em away ; run with 'em into the bed-room ;
anywhere," said Miss La Creevy. "Dear, dear; to think
that I should be late on this particular morning, of all others,
after being ready for three weeks by half-past eight o'clock,
and not a soul coming near the place ! "
" Don't let me put you out of the way," said a voice Miss
La Creevy knew. " I told the servant not to mention my
name, because I wished to surprise you."
" Mr. Nicholas ! " cried Miss La Creevy, starting in great
astonishment.
" You have not forgotten me, I see," replied Nicholas, ex-
tending his hand.
" Whv, I think I should even have known vow if I had
met you in the street," said Miss La Creevy, with a smile.
" Hannah, another cup and saucer. Now, I'll tell you what,
young man ; I'll trouble you not to repeat the impertinence
you were guilty of, on the morning you went away."
" You would not be very angiy, would you .'' " asked
Nicholas.
" Wouldn't I ! " said Miss La Creevy. " You had better
try ; that's all ! "
Nicholas, with becoming gallantry, immediately took Miss
La Creevy at her word, who uttered a faint scream and slapped
his face ; but it was not a very hard slap, and that's the truth.
" I never saw such a rude creature ! " exclaimed Miss La
Creevy.
" You told me to trv," said Nicholas.
" Well ; but I was speaking ironically," rejoined Miss La
Creevy.
"Oh! that's another thing," said Nicholas; " you should
have told me that, too."
" I dare say you didn't know, indeed ! " retorted Miss La
Creevy. " But, now I look at you again, you seem thinner
than when I saw you last, and your face is haggard and pale.
And how come you to have left Yorkshire .'' "
250 NICHOLAS AriCKLEBY.
She stopped here ; for there was so much heart in her al-
tered tone and manner, that Nicholas was quite moved.
" I need look somewhat changed," he said, after a short
silence ; " for I have undergone some suffering, both of mind
and body, since I left London. I have been very poor, too,
and have even suffered from want."
" Good Heaven, Mr. Nicholas ! " exclaimed Miss La
Creevy, " what are you telling me ? "
" Nothing which need distress you quite so much," an-
swered Nicholas, with a more sprightly air ; " neither did I
come here, to bewail my lot, but on matter more to the pur-
pose. I wish to meet my uncle face to face. I should tell
you that first."
" Then all I have to say about that is," interposed Miss La
Creevy, " that I don't envy you your taste ; and that sitting
\A the same room with his very boots, would put me out of
humor for a fortnight."
" In the main," said Nicholas, "there maybe no great
difference of opinion between you and me, so far ; but you
will understand, that I desire to confront him, to justify my-
self, and to cast his duplicity and malice in his throat."
" That's quite another matter," rejoined Miss La Creevy.
" Heaven forgive me ; but I shouldn't cvj my eyes quite out
of my head, if they choked him. Well 1 "
" To this end, I called upon him this morning," said Nich-
olas. " He only returned to town on Saturday, and I knew
nothing of his arrival until late last night."
" And did you see him ? " asked Miss La Creevy.
" No," replied Nicholas. " He had gone out."
" Hah ! " said Miss La Creevy ; "on some kind, charitable
business, I dare say."
" I have reason to believe," pursued Nicholas, "from what
has been told me, by a friend of mine who is acquainted with
his movements, that he intends seeing my mother and sister
to-dav, and s-iving them his version of the occurrences that
have befallen me. I will meet him there."
' That's right," said Miss La Creevy, rubbing her hands.
"And yet, I don't know," she added, "there is much to be
thought of — others to be considered."
" I have considered others," rejoined Nicholas : "but as
honesty and honor are both at issue, nothing shall deter me."
" You should know best," said Miss La Creevy.
" In this case I hope so," answered Nicholas. "And all
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
251
I want you to do for me, is, to prepare them for my coming.
They think me a long way off, and if 1 went wholly unexpect-
ed, I should frighten them. If you can spare time to tell them
that you have seen me, and that I shall be with them in a quar-
ter of an hour afterwards, you will do me a great service."
" I wish I could do you, or any of you, a greater," said
Miss La Creevy ; " but the_power to serve, is as seldom joined
TalKmg on very fast and very much, Miss La Creevy
finished her breakfast with great expedition, put away the tea-
caddy and hid the key under the fender, resumed her bonnet,
and, taking Nicholas's arm, sallied forth at once into the city.
Nicholas left her near the door of his mother's house, and
promised to return within a quarter of an hour.
It so chanced that Ralph Nickleby, at length seeing fit,
for his own purposes, to communicate the atrocities of which
Nicholas had been guilty, had (instead of first proceeding to
another quarter of the town on business, as Newman Noggs
supposed he would) gone straight to his sister-in-law. Hence,
when Miss La Creevy, admitted by a girl who was cleaning
the house, made her wav to the sitting-room, she found Mrs.
Nickleby and Kate in tears, and Ralph just concluding his
statement of his nephew's misdemeanors. Kate beckoned
her not to retire, and Miss La Creevy took a seat in silence.
" You are here already, are you, my gentleman ? " thought
the little woman. " Then he shall announce himself, and see
what effect that has on you."
" This is pretty," said Ralph, folding up Miss Squeers's
note ; " very pretty. I recommended him — against all my
jDrevious conviction, for I knew he would never do any good —
to a man with whom, behaving himself properly, he might
have remained, in comfort, for years. What is the result ?
Conduct, for which he might hold up his hand at the Old
Bailey."
" I never will believe it," said Kate, indignantly ; " never.
It is some base conspiracy, which carries its own falsehood
with it."
" My dear " said Ralph, " you wrong the worthy man.
These are not inventions. The man is assaulted, your brother
is not to be found ; this boy, of whom they speak, goes with
him — remember, remember."
" It is impossible," said Kate. " Nicholas ! — and a thief,
too ! Mamma, how can you sit and hear such statements ? "
252 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, who had, at no time, been remarkable
for the possession of a very clear understanding, and who had
been reduced by the late changes in her aifairs to a most
complicated state of perplexity, made no other reply to this
earnest remonstrance than exclaiming from behind a mass of
pocket-handkerchief, that she never could have believed it —
thereby most ingeniously leaving her hearers to suppose that
she did believe it.
" It would be my duty, if he came in my way, to deliver
him up to justice," said Ralph, " my bounden duty ; I should
have no other course, as a man of the world and a man of
business, to pursue. And yet," said Ralph, speaking in a
very marked manner, and looking furtively, but fixedly, at
Kate, " and yet I would not. I would spare the feelings of
his — of his sister. And his mother of course," added Ralph,
as though by afterthought, and with far less emphasis.
Kate very well understood that this was held out as an
additional inducement to her, to preserve the strictest silence
regarding the events of the preceding night. She looked
involuntarily towards Ralph as he ceased to speak, but he
had turned his eyes another way, and seemed for the moment
quite unconscious of her presence.
" Everj'thing," said Ralph, after a long silence, broken
only by Mrs. Nickleby's sobs, "everything combines to prove
the truth of this letter, if indeed there were any possibility of
disputing it. Do innocent men steal away from the sight of
honest folks and skulk in hiding-places, like outlaws .-' Do
innocent men inveigle nameless vagabonds, and prowl with
them about the country as idle robbers do ? Assault, riot,
theft, what do you call these .'' "
"A lie ! " cried a voice, as the door was dashed open, and
Nicholas came into the room.
In the first moment of surprise, and possibly of alarm,
Ralph rose from his seat, and fell back a few paces, quite
taken off his guard by this unexpected apparition. In another
moment, he stood, fixed and immovable with folded arms,
regarding his nephew with a scowl ; while Kate and Miss
La Creevy threw themselves between the two, to prevent the
personal violence which the fierce excitement of Nicholas
appeared to threaten.
" Dear Nicholas," cried his sister, clinging to him. "Be
calm, consider "
" Consider, Kate ! " cried Nicholas, clasping her hand so
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 253
tight, in the tumult of his anger, that she could scarcely bear
the pain. " When I consider all, and think of what has
passed, I need be made of iron to stand before him."
" Or bronze," said Ralph quietly ■ '.' there is not hardihood
enough in fiesh and blood to face it out."
"Oh dear, dear ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, " that things should
have come to such a pass as this."
"Who speaks in a tone, as if I had done wrong, and
brought disgrace on them ? " said Nicholas, looking round.
"Your mother, sir?" replied Ralph, motioning towards
her.
" Whose ears have been poisoned by you," said Nicholas ;
" by you — who, under pretence of deserving the thanks she
poured upon you, heaped every insult, wrong, and indignity,
upon my head. You, who sent me to a den where sordid
cruelty, worthy of yourself, runs wanton, and youthful misery
stalks precocious ; where the hghtness of childhood shrinks
into the heaviness of age, and its ever>' promise blights, and
withers as it grows. I call Heaven to witness," said Nicholas,
looking eagerly round, " that I have seen all this, and that he
knows it."
" Refute these calumnies," said Kate, " and be more
patient, so that you may give them no advantage. Tell us
what you really did, and show that they are untrue."
" Of what do they — or of what does he — accuse me ? " said
Nicholas.
" First, of attacking your master, and being within an ace
of qualifying yourself 'to be tried for murder," interposed
Ralph, "I speak plainly, young man, bluster as you will."
" I interfered," said Nicholas, " to save a miserable
creature from the vilest cruelty. In so doing. I inflicted such
punishment upon a wretch as he will not readily forget, though
far less than he deserved from me. If the same scene were
renewed before me now, I would take the same part ; but I
would strike harder and heavier, and brand him with such
marks as he should carry to his grave, go to it when he
would."
" You hear ? " said Ralph, turning to Mrs. Nickleby.
" Penitence, this ! "
" Oh dear me ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, " I don't know what
to think, I really don't."
" Do not speak just now, mamma, I entreat you." said
Kate. " Dear Nicholas, I only tell you, that you may know
254 NICHOLAS NICKL EB Y.
what wickedness can prompt, but they accuse you of — a ring
is missing, and they dare to say that — "
"The woman," said Nicholas, haughtily, "the wife of the
fellow from whom these charges come, dropped — as I suppose
— a worthless ring among some clothes of mine, early in the
morning on which I left the house. At least I know that
she was in the bedroom where they lay, struggling with an un-
happy child, and that I found it when I opened my bun-
dle on the road. I returned it, at once, by coach, and they
have it now."
" I knew, I knew," said Kate looking towards her uncle.
" About this boy, love, in whose company they say you left ? "
" The boy, a silly, helpless creature, from brutality and
hard usage, is with me now," rejoined Nicholas.
" You hear ? " said Ralph, appealing to the mother again,
" everything proved even upon his own confession. Do you
choose to restore that boy, sir ? "
"No. I do not," replied Nicholas.
" You do not .-* " sneered Ralph.
"No," repeated Nicholas, " not to the man with whom I
found him. I would that I knew on whom he has the claim of
birth : I might wring something from his sense of shame, if
he were dead to every tie of nature."
" Indeed ! " said Ralph. " Now, sir, will you hear a word
or two from me ? "
" You can speak when, and what you please," replied Nich-
olas, embracing his sister. " 1 take little heed of what you
say or threaten."
" Mighty well, sir," retorted Ralph ; " but perhaps it may
concern others, who may think it worth their while to listen and
consider what I tell them. I will address your mother, sir,
who knows the world."
" Ah ! and I only too dearly wish I didn't," sobbed Mrs.
Nickleby.
There really was no necessity for the good lady to be much
distressed upon this particular head ; the extent of her worldly
knowledge being, to say the least, very questionable ; and so
Ralph seemed to think, for he smiled as she spoke. He then
glanced steadily at her and Nicholas by turns, as he delivered
himself in these words :
"Of what I have done, or what I meant to do for you
ma'am and my niece, I say not one syllable. 1 held out
no promise, and leave you to judge for yourself. 1 hold out
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 255
no threat now, but I say that this boy, headstrong, wilful, and
disorderly as he is, should not have one penny of my money,
or one crust of my bread, or one grasp of my hand to save
him from the loftiest gallows in all Europe. I will not meet
him, come where he comes, or hear his name. I will not help
him, or those who help him. With a full knowledge of what
he brought upon you by so doing, he has come back in his
selfish sloth, to be an aggravation of your wants, and a burden
upon his sister's scanty wages. I regret to leave you, and
more to leave her, now, but I will not encourage this com-
pound of meanness and cruelty, and, as 1 will not ask you to
renounce him, I see you no more."
If Ralph had not known and felt his power in wounding
those he hated, his glance at Nicholas would have shown it
hinV in all its force, as he proceeded in the above address.
Innocent as the young man was, of all wrong, every artful in-
sinuation stung, every well-considered sarcasm cut him to the
quick ; and when Ralph noted his pale face and quivering
lip, he hugged himself to mark how well he had chosen the
taunts best calculated to strike deep into the young and ardent
spirit.
" I can't help it," cried Mrs. Nickleby, " I know you have
been very good to us, and meant to do a good deal for my
dear daughter. I am quite sure of that ; I know you did,
and it was veiy kind of you, having her at your house and all
— and of course it would have been a great thing for her and
for me too. But I can't, you know, brother-in-law, I can't re-
nounce my own son, even if he has done all you say he has —
it's not possible ; I couldn't do it ; so we must go to rack and
ruin, Kate, my dear. I can bear it, I dare say." Pouring forth
these and a perfectly wonderful train of other disjointed ex-
pressions of regret which no mortal power but Mrs. Nickleby's
could ever have strung together, that lady wrung her hands,
and her tears fell faster.
"Why do you say ' //"Nicholas has done what they say he
has,' mamma ? " asked Kate with honest anger. " You know
he has not."
" I don't know what to think, one way or other, my
dear," said Mrs. Nickleby ; " Nicholas is so violent, and your
uncle has so much composure, that I can only hear what he
says, and not what Nicholas does. Never mind, don't let us
talk any more about it. We can go to the \A'orkhouse, or the
Refuge for the Destitute, or the Magdalen Hospital, I dare
2^6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
say : and the sooner we go the better." With this extraor-
dinary jumble of charitable institutions, Mrs. Nickleby again
gave way to her tears.
" Stay," said Nicholas, as Ralph turned to go. " You
need not leave this place sir, for it will be relieved of my pres-
ence in one minute, and it will be long, very long before I
darken these doors again."
" Nicholas," cried Kate, throwing herself on her brother's
shoulder, " do not say so. My dear brother, you will break
my heart. Mamma, speak to him. Do not mind her, Nich-
olas ; she does not mean it, you should know her better. Uncle,
somebody, for Heaven's sake speak to him."
" I never meant, Kate," said Nicholas tenderly, " I never
meant to stay among you ; think better of me than to suppose
it possible. I may turn my back on this town a few hours
sooner than I intended, but what of that ? We shall not for-
get each other apart, and better daj^s will come when we shall
part no more. Be a woman Kate," he whispered, proudly,
" and do not make me one while he looks on."
"No, no, I will not," said Kate eagerly, "but you will not
leave us. Oh ! think of all the happy days we have had to-
gether, befcra these terrible misfortunes came upon us ; of all
the comfort and happiness of home, and the trials we have to
bear now ; of our having no protector under all the slights and
wrongs that poverty so much favors, and you cannot leave us
to bear them alone, without one hand to help us."
" You will be helped when I am away," replied Nicholas,
hurriedly. " I am no help to you, no protector ; \ should
bring you nothing but sorrow, and want, and suffering. My
own mother sees it, and her fondness and fears for you point
to the course that I should take. And so all good angels
bless you, Kate, till I can carry you to some home of mine,
where we may revive the happiness denied to us now, and talk
of these trials as of things gone by. Do not keep me here,
but let me go at once. There. Dear girl — dear girl."
The grasp which had detained him, relaxed, and Kate
swooned in his arms. Nicholas stooped over her, for a few
seconds, and placing her gently in a chair, confided her to
their honest friend.
" I need not entreat your symyathy," he said, wringing her
hand, "for I know your nature. You will never forget
them."
He stepped up to Ralph, who remained in the same attitude
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 257
which he had preserved throughout the interview, and moved
not a finger.
" Whatever step you take, sir," he said, in a voice inaudi-
ble beyond themselves, " I shall keep a strict account of. I
leave them to you at your desire. There will be a day of
reckoning sooner or later, and it will be a heavy one for you if
they are wronged."
Ralph did not allow a muscle of his face to indicate that
he heard one word of this parting address. He hardly
knew that it was concluded, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely
made up her mind to detain her son by force if necessary,
when Nicholas was gone.
As he hurried through the streets to his obscure lodging
seeking to keep pace, as it were, with the rapidity of the
thoughts which crowded upon him, many doubts and hesita-
tions arose in his mind, and almost tempted him to return.
But what would they gain by this .-• Supposing he were to put
Ralph Nickleby at defiance, and were even fortunate enough
to obtain some small employment, his being with them could
only render their present condition worse, and might greatly
impair their future prospects ; for his mother had spoken of
some new kindnesses towards Kate which she had not denied.
"No," thought Nicholas, " I have acted for the best."
But, before he had gone five hundred yards, some other
and different feeling would come upon him, and then he
would lag again, and pulling his hat over his eyes, give way
to the melancholy reflections which pressed thickly upon him.
To have committed no fault, and yet to be so entirely alone
in the world ; to be separated from the only persons he loved,
and to be proscribed like a criminal, when six months ago he
had been surrounded by every comfort, and looked up to, as
the chief hope of his family — this was hard to bear. He had
not deserved it either. Well, there was comfort in that ;
and poor Nicholas would brighten up again, to be again de-
pressed, as his quickly shifting thoughts jj resented every va-
riety of light and shade before him.
Undergoing these alternations of hope and misgiving,
which no one, placed in a situation of ordinary trial, can fail
to have experienced, Nicholas at length reached his poor
room, where, no longer borne up by the excitement which
had hitherto sustained him, but depressed by the revulsion of
feeling it left behind, he threw himself on the bed, and turn-
17
258
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
ing his face to the wall, gave free vent to the emotions he had
so long stifled.
He. had not heard anybody enter, and was unconscious of
the presence of Smike, until, happening to raise his head, he
saw him, standing at the upper end of the room, looking
wistfully towards him. He withdrew his eyes when he saw
that he was observed, and affected to be busied with some
scanty preparations for dinner.
"Well, Smike," said Nicholas, as cheerfully as he could
speak, " let me hear what new acquaintances you have made
this morning, or what new wonder you have found out, in the
compass of this street and the next one."
" No," said Smike, shaking his head mournfully ; " I must
talk of something else to-day."
"Of what you like," replied Nicholas, good-humoredly.
" Of this ; " said Smike. " I know you are unhappy, and
have got into great trouble by bringing me away. I ought to
have known that and stopped behind — I would, indeed, if I
had thought it then. You — you — are not rich : you have not
enough for yourself, and I should not be here. You grow,"
said the lad, laying his hand timidly on that of Nicholas, "you
grow thinner every day; your cheek is paler, and your eye
more sunk. Indeed I cannot bear to see you so, and think
how I am burdening you. I tried to go away to-day, but the
thought of your kind face drew me back. I could not leave
you without a word." The poor fellow could say no more,
for his eyes filled with tears, and his voice was gone.
"The word which separates us," said Nicholas, grasping
him heartily by the shoulder, " shall never be said by me, for
you are my only comfort and stay. I would not lose you
now, Smike, for all the world could give. The thought of
you has upheld me through all I have endured to-day, and
shall, through fifty times such trouble. Give me your hand.
My heart is linked to yours. We will journey from this place
together, before the week is out. What, if I am steeped in
poverty ? You lighten it, and we will be poor together."
NICHOLAS NJCKLEBY.
259
CHAPTER XXI.
MADAME MANTALINI FINDS HERSELF IN A SITUATION OF
SOME DIFFICULTY, AND MISS NICKLEBY FINDS HERSELF
IN NO SITUATION AT ALL.
The agitation she had undergone, rendered Kate Nickleby
unable to resume her duties at the dress-maker's for three
days, at the expiration of which interval she betook herself at
the accustomed hour, and with languid steps, to the temple
of fashion where Madame Mantalini reigned paramount and
supreme.
The ill will of Miss Knag had lost nothing of its virulence,
in the interval. The young ladies still scrupulously shrunk
from all companionship with their denounced associate ; and
when that exemplary female arrived a few minutes afterwards,
she was at no pains to conceal the displeasure with which she
regarded Kate's return.
'' Upon my word ! " said Miss Knag, as the satellites
flocked round, to relieve her of her bonnet and shawl ; " I
should have thought some people would have had spirit
enough to stop away altogether, when they know what an in-
cumbrance their presence is to right-minded persons. But it's
a queer world ; oh ! it's a queer world ! "
Miss Knag, having passed this comment on the world, in
the tone in which most people do pass comments on the world
when they are out of temper, that is to say, as if they by no
means belonged to it, concluded by heaving a sigh, where-
with she seemed meekly to compassionate the wickedness of
mankind.
The attendants were not slow to echo the sigh, and IVIiss
Knag was apparently on the eve of favoring them with some
further moral reflections, when the voice of Madame Manta-
lini, conveyed through the speaking-tube, ordered Miss Nick-
elby up stairs to assist in the arrangement of the show-room ;
a distinction which caused Miss Knag to toss her head so
much, and bite her lip so hard, that her powers of conversa-
tion were, for the time, annihilated.
26o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Well, Miss Nickleby, child," said Madame Mantalini,
when Kate presented herself ; " are you quite well again ? "
" A great deal better, thank you," replied Kate.
"I wish I could say the same," remarked Madame Man-
talini, seating herself with an air of weariness.
" Are you ill .'' " asked Kate. " I am very sorry for that."
"Not exactly ill, but worried, child — worried."
" I am still more sorry to hear that," said Kate, gently.
*' Bodily illness is more easy to bear, than mental."
"Ah land it's much easier to talk than to bear either,"
said Madame, rubbing her nose with much irritability of man-
ner. " There, get to your work, child, and put the things in
order, do."
While Kate was wondering within herself what these symp-
toms of unusual vexation portended, Mr. Mantalini put the
tips of his whiskers, and. by degrees, his head, through the
half-opened door, and cried in a soft voice —
" Is my life and soul there ? "
" No," replied his wife.
" How can it say so, when it is blooming in the front room
like a little rose in a demnition flower-pot .'' " urged Mantalini,
" May its poppet come in and talk ? "
"Certainly not," replied Madame; "you know I never
allow you here. Go along ! "
The poppet, however, encouraged perhaps by the relenting
tone of this reply, ventured to rebel, and stealing into the
room, made towards Madame Mantalini on tiptoe, blowing her
a kiss as he came along.
" Why will it vex itself, and twist its little face into be-
witching nutcrackers ? " said Mantalini, putting his left arm
round the waist' of his life and- soul, and drawing her towards
him with his right.
"Oh ! I can't bear you," replied his wife.
"Not — eh, not bear w^ .'' " exclaimed Mantalini. "Fibs,
fibs. It couldn't be. There's not a woman alive, that could
tell me such a thing to my face — to my own face." Mr.
Mantalini stroked his chin as he said this, and glanced com-
placently at an opposite mirror.
" Such destructive extravagance," reasoned his wife, in a
low tone.
" All in its joy at having gained such a lovely creature,
such a little Venus, such a demd enchanting, bewitching,
engrossing, captivating little Venus," said Mantalini.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 261
" See what a situation you have placed me in ! " urged
Madame.
" No harm will come, no harm shall come, to its own dar-
ling," rejoined Mr. Mantalini. " It is all over; there will be
nothing the matter ; money shall be got in ; and if it don't
come in fast enough, old Nickleby shall stump up again, or
have his jugular separated if he dares to vex and hurt the
little "
" Hush ! " interposed Madame. " Don't you see t "
Mr. Mantalini,. who, in his eagerness to make up matters
with his wife, had overlooked, or feigned to overlook. Miss
Nickleby hitherto, took the hint, and laying his finger on his
lip, sunk his voice still lower. There was, then, a great deal
of whispering, during which Madame Mantalini appeared to
make reference, more than once, to certain debts incurred by
Mr. Mantalini previous to her coverture ; and also to an un-
expected outlay of money in payment of the aforesaid debts ;
and furthermore, to certain agreeable weaknesses on that
gentleman's part, such as gaming, wasting, idling, and a
tendency to horse-flesh ; each of which matters of accusation
Mr. Mantalini disposed of, by one kiss or more, as its relative
importance demanded. The upshot of it all, was, that Madame
Mantalini was in raptures with him, and that they went up
stairs to breakfast.
Kate busied herself in what she had to do, and was silently
arranging the various articles of decoration in the best taste
she could display, when she started to hear a strange man's
voice in the room, and started again, to observe, on looking
round, that a white hat, and a red neckerchief, and a broad
round face, and a large head, and part of a green coat were in
the room too.
" Don't alarm yourself, Miss," said the proprietor of these
appearances. " I say ; this here's the mantie-making consarn,
a'nt it ? "
"Yes," rejoined Kate, greatly astonished. "What did
you want .'' "
The stranger answered not ; but, first looking back, as
though to beckon to some unseen person outside, came, very
deliberately, into the room and was closely followed by a
little man in brown, very much the worse for wear, who
brought with him a mingled fumigation of stale tobacco and
fresh onions. The clothes of this gentleman were much be-
speckled with flue : and his shoes, stockings, and nether
262 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,
garments, from his heels to the waist buttons of his coat in-
clusive, were profusely embroidered with splashes of mud,
caught a fortnight previously — before the setting-in of the fine
weather.
Kate's very natural impression was, that these engaging
individuals had called with the view of possessing themselves,
unlawfully, of any portable articles that chanced to strike their
fancy. She did not attempt to disguise her apprehensions,
and made a move towards the door.
" Wait a minnit," said the man in the green coat, closing
it softly, and standing with his back against it. " This is a
unpleasant bisness. Vere's your govvernor ? "
" My what — did you say ? " asked Kate, trembling ; for
she thought " governor " might be slang for watch or money.
" Mr. Muntlehiney," said the man. " Wot's come on him ?
Is he at home ? "
" He is above stairs, I believe," replied Kate, a little re-
assured by this inquiry. " Do you Avant him ? "
"No," replied the visitor. " I don't ezactly want him, if
it's made a favor on. You can jist give him that 'ere card,
and tell him if he wants to speak to me, and save trouble, here
^ am ; that's all."
With these words, the stranger put a thick square card into
Kate's hand, and, turning to his friend, remarked, with an
easy air, " that the rooms was a good high pitch ; " to which
the friend assented, adding, by way of illustration, " that there
was lots of room for a little boy to grow up a man in either on
'em, vithout much fear of his ever bringing his head into con-
tract vith the ceiling."
After rinsfing: the bell which would summon Madame
Mantalini, Kate glanced at the card, and saw that it displayed
the name of " Scaley," together with some other information
to which she had not had time to refer, when her attention
was attracted by Mr. Scaley himself, who, walking up to one
of the cheval glasses, gave it a hard poke in the centre with
his stick, as coolly as if it had been made of cast iron.
" Good plate this here, Tix," said Mr. Scaley to his friend.
" Ah ! " rejoined Mr. Tix, placing the marks of his four
fingers, and a duplicate impression of his thumb on a piece of
sky-blue silk ; " and this here article warn't made for nothing,
mind you."
From the silk, Mr. Tix transferred his admiration to some
elegant articles of wearing apparel, while Mr. Scaley adjusted
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
263
his neckcloth, at leisure, before the glass, and afterwards,
aided by its reflection, proceeded to the minute consideration
of a pimple on his chin ; in which absorbing occupation he
was yet engaged, when Madame Mantalini entering the room,
uttered an exclamation of surprise which roused him.
"Oh ! Is this the missis ? " inquired Scaley.
" It is Madame Mantalini," said Kate.
"Then,'.' said Mr. Scaley, producing a small document
from his pocket and unfolding it very slowly, " this is a writ
of execution, and if it's not conwenient to settle we'll go
over the house at wunst, please, and take the inwentory."
Poor Madame Mantalini wrung her hands for grief, and
rung the b-?ll for her husband ; which done, she fell into a
chair and a fainting fit, simultaneousl}'. The professional
gentlemen, however, were not at all discomposed by this event,
for Mr. Scaley, leaning upon a stand on which a handsome
dress was displayed (so that his shoulders appeared above it,
in nearly the same manner as the shoulders of the lady for
whom it was designed would have done if she had had it on),
pushed his hat on one side and scratched his head with per-
fect unconcern, while his friend Mr. Tix, taking that oppor-
tunity for a general survey of the apartment preparatoiy tg
entering on business, stood with his inventory-book under his
arm, and his hat in his hand, mentally occupied in putting a
price upon every object within his range of vision.
Such was the posture of affairs when Mr. Mantalini
hurried in ; and as that distinguished specimen had had a
pretty extensive intercourse with Mr. Scaley's fraternity in his
bachelor days, and was, besides, very far from being taken
by surprise on the present agitating occasion, he merely
shrugged his shoulders, thrust his hands down to the bottom
of his pockets, elevated his eyebrows, whistled a bar or two,
swore an oath or two, and, sitting astride upon a chair, put
the best face upon the matter with great composure and
decency.
" What's the demd total ? " was the first question he
asked.
" Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pound, four and nine-
pence ha'penny," replied Mr. Scaley, without moving a limb.
" The halfpenny be demd," said Mr. Mantalini, impatiently.
" By all means if you vish it," retorted Mr. Scaley ; " and
the ninepence."
" It don't matter to us if the fifteen hundred and twenty-
264 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
seven pound went along with it, that I know on," observed
Mr. Tix.
" Not a button," said Scaley.
"Well ;" said the same gentleman, after a pause, " Wot's
to be done — anything ? Is it only a small crack, or a out-
and-out smash ? A break-up of the constitootion is it — werry
good. Then Mr. Tom Tix, esk-vire, you must inform your
angel wife and lovely family as you won't sleep at home for
three nights to come, along of being in possession here.
Wot's the good of the lady a fretting herself ? " continued
Mr. Scaley, as Madame Mantalini sobbed. " A good half of
wot's here, isn't paid for, I des-say, and wot a consolation
oughtn't that to be to her feelings ! "
With these remarks, combining great pleasantry with sound
moral encouragement under difficulties, Mr. Scaley proceeded
to take the inventory, in which task he was materially assisted
by the uncommon tact and experience of Mr. Tix, the broker.
" My cup of happiness's sweetener," said Mantalini, ap-
proaching his wife with a penitent air ; " will you listen to me
for two minutes ? "
" Oh ! don't speak to me," replied his wife, sobbing,
"You have ruined me, and that's enough."
Mr. Mantalini, who had doubtless well considered his part,
no sooner heard these words pronounced in a tone of grief
and severity, than he recoiled several paces, assumed an ex-
pression of consuming mental agony, rushed headlong from
the room, and was, soon afterwards, heard to slam the door
of an up stairs dressing-room with great violence.
" Miss Nickleby," cried Madame Mantalini, when this
sound met her ear, "make haste for Heaven's sake, he will
destroy himself ! I spoke unkindly to him, and he cannot
bear it from me. Alfred, my darling Alfred."
With such exclamations, she hurried up stairs, followed by
Kate, who, although she did not quite participate in the fond
wife's apprehensions, was a little flurried, nevertheless. The
dressing-room door being hastily flung open, Mr. Mantalini
was disclosed to view, with his shirt-collar symmetrically
thrown back ; putting a line edge to a breakfast knife by
means of his razor strop.
" Ah ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, " Interrupted ! " and whisk
went the breakfast knife into Mr. Mantalini's dressing-gown
pocket, while Mr. Mantalini's eyes rolled wildly, and his hair
floating in wild disorder, mingled with his whiskers.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
265
" Alfred," cried his wife, flinging her arms about him, " I
didn't mean to say it, I didn't mean to say it ! "
" Ruined ! " cried Mr. Mantalini. " Have I brought ruin
upon the best and purest creature that ever blessed a demni-
tion vagabond ! Demmit, let me go." At this crisis of his
ravings Mr. Mantalini made a pluck at the breakfast knife,
and being restrained by his wife's grasp, attempted to dash
his head against the wall — taking very good care to be at
least six feet from it.
"Compose yourself, my own angel," said Madame. "It
was nobody's fault ; it was mine as much as yours, we shall
do very well yet. Come, Alfred, come."
Mr. Mantalini did not think proper to come to, all at
once ; but, after calling several times for poison, and request-
ing some lady or gentleman to blow his brains out, gentler
feelings came upon him, and he wept pathetically. In this
softened frame of mind he did not oppose the capture of the
knife — which, to tell the truth, he was rather glad to be rid
of, as an inconvenient and dangerous article for a skirt pocket
— and finally he suffered »himself to be led away, by his affec-
tionate partner.
After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies were
informed that their ser\'ices would be dispensed with, until
further notice, and at the expiration of two days, the name
of Mantalini appeared in the list of bankrupts : Miss Nickleby
received an intimation per post, the same morning, that the
business would be, in future, carried on under the name of
Miss Knag, and that her assistance would no longer be re-
quired— a piece of intelligence with which Mrs. Nickleby was
no sooner made acquainted, than that good lady declared she
had expected it all along, and cited divers unknown occasions
on which she had prophesied to that precise effect,
"And I say again," remarked Mrs. Nickleby (who, it is
scarcely necessary to obsen-e, had never said so before), " I
say again, that a milliner's and dress-maker's is the \ ery last
description of business, Kate, that you should have thought
of attaching yourself to. I don't make it a reproach to you,
my love ; but still I will say, that if you had consulted your
mother "
"Well, well, mama," said Kate, mildly ; "what would you
recommend now ? "
" Recommend ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, " isn't it obvious,
my dear, that of all occupations in this world for a young lady
266 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
situated as you are, that of companion to some amiable lady
is the very thing for which your education, and manners, and
personal appearance, and everything else, exactly qualify you ?
Did you never hear your poor dear papa speak of the young
lady who was the daughter of the old lady who boarded in the
same house that he boarded in once, when he was a bachelor
— what was her name again ? I know it began with a B, and
ended with a g, but whether it was Waters or — no it couldn't
have been that, either ; but whatever her name was, don't you
know that that young lady went as companion to a married
lady who died soon afterwards, and that she married the hus-
band, and had one of the finest little boys that the medical
man had ever seen — all within eighteen months.
Kate knew, perfectly well, that this torrent of favorable
recollection was occasioned by some opening, real or imagin-
ar}', which her mother had discovered, in the companionship
walk of life. She therefore waited, very patiently, until all
reminiscences and anecdotes, bearing or not bearing upon the
subject, had been exhausted, and at last ventured to inquire
what discovery had been made. The truth then came out.
Mrs. Nickleby had, that morning, had a yesterday newspaper
of the very first respectability from the public-house where the
porter came from ; and in this yesterday's newspaper was an
advertisement, couched in the purest and most grammatical
English, announcing that a married lady was in want of a gen-
teel young person as companion, and that the married lady's
name and address were to be known, on application at a cer-
tain library at the west end of the town, therein mentioned.
"And I say," exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby, laying the paper
down in triumph, " that if your uncle don't object, it's well
worth the trial."
Kate was too sick at heart, after the rough jostling she
had already had with the world, and really cared too little at
the moment what fate was reserved for her, to make any ob-
jection. Mr. Ralph Nickleby offered none, but, on the contrary,
highly approved of the suggestion ; neither did he express any
great surprise at Madame Mantalini's sudden failure, indeed
it would have been strange if he had, inasmuch as it had been
procured and brought about, chiefly by himself. So, the name
and address were obtained without loss of time, and Miss
Nickleby and her mama went off in quest of Mrs. Wititterly,
of Cadogan Place, Sloane Street, that same forenoon.
Cadogan Place is the one slight bond that joins two great
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
267
extremes ; it is the connecting- linl< between the aristocratic
piil IljIIIL'IIIs uf"-Be^-graTr-^'qTtare, niul tin: liailiarism of Clielbca.
It~i> ill ^l.-ant: StiY-ct, Irmt not of it. Tlic people ia Cad(iL;'an
FTace look down upon Sloane Street, and think Brompton low.
They affect fashion too, and wonder where the New Road is.
Not that they claim to be on precisely the same footing as the
high folks of Belgrave Square and Grosvenor Place, but that
they stand, with reference to them, rather in the light of those
illegitimate children of the great who are content to boast of
their connections, although their connections disavow them.
Wearing as much as they can of the airs and semblances of
loftiest rank, the people of Cadogan Place have the realities
of middle station. It is the conductor which communicates to
the inhabitants of regions beyond its limit, the shock of pride
of birth and rank, which it has not within itself, but derives
from a fountain-head beyond ; or, like the ligament which
unites the Siamese twins, it contains something of the life and
essence of two distinct bodies, and yet belongs to neither.
Upon this doubtful ground, li\-ed Mrs. Wititterly, and at
Mrs. Wititterly's door Kate Nickleby knocked with trembling
hand. The door was opened by a big footman with his head
floured, or chalked, or painted in some way (it didn't look
genuine powder), and the big footman, receiving the card of
introduction, gave it to a little page ; so little, indeed, that his
body would not hold, in ordinary array, the number of small
buttons which are indispensable to a page's costume, and they
were consequently obliged to be stuck on four abreast. This
young gentleman took the card up stairs on a salver, and
pending his return, Kate and her mother were shown into a
dining-room of rather dirty and shabby aspect, and so com-
fortably arranged as to be adapted to almost any purpose
rather than eating and drinking.
Now, in the ordinary course of things, and according to
all authentic descriptions of high life, as set forth in books,
Mrs. Wititterly ought to have been in her boudoir ; but
whether it was that Mr. Wititterly was at that moment shav-
ing himself in the boudoir or what not, certain it is that Mrs.
Wititterly gave audience in the drawing-room, where was ever)--
thing proper and necSssar)^, including curtains and furniture
coverings of a roseate hue, to shed a delicate bloom on Mrs.
Wititterly's complexion, and a little dog to snap at strangers'
legs for Mrs. \\''ititterly's amusement, and the afore-mentioned"
page, to hand chocolate for Mrs. Wititterly's refreshment.
268 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
pfhe lady had an air of sweet insipidity, and a face of
engi^ing paleness ; there was a faded look about her, and
about the furniture, and about the hoTis^ She was reclining
T)li A"bofa in sugl'i a'-'V'b'i'y uiislucliecl attitude, that she might
have been taken for an actress all ready for the first scene in
a ballet, and only waiting for the drop curtain to go up.
" Place chairs."
The page placed them.
" Leave the room, Alphonse."
The page left it ; but if ever an Alphonse carried plain
Bill in his face and figure, that page was the boy.
" I have ventured to call, ma'am," said Kate, after a few
seconds of awkward silence, " from having seen your adver-
tisement."
" Yes," replied Mrs. Wititterly, " one of my people put it
in the paper. — Yes."
" I thought, perhaps," said Kate, modestly, " that if you
had not already made a final choice, you would forgive my
troubling you with an application."
" Yes," drawled Mrs. Wititterly again.
" If you have already made a selection "
" Oh dear no," interrupted the lady, " I am not so easily
suited. I really don't know what to say. You have never
been a companion before, have you ? "
Mrs. Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her oppor-
tunity, came dexterously in, before Kate could reply. " Not
to any stranger, ma'am," said the good lady ; "but she has
been a companion to me for some years. I am her mother,
ma'am."
" Oh ! " said Mrs. Wititterly, " I apprehend you."
" I assure you, ma'am," said Mrs. Nickleby, " that I very
little thought, at one time, that it would be necessary for my
daughter to go out into the world at all, for her poor dear
papa was an independent gentleman, and would have been at
this moment if he had but listened in time to my constant
entreaties and "
" Dear mama," said Kate, in a low voice.
" My dear Kate, if you will allow me to speak," said Mrs.
Nickleby, "I shall take the liberty of explaining to this
lady "
" I think it is almost unnecessar)', mama."
And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which
Mrs. Nickleby intimated that she was going to say something
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 269
which would clench the business at once, Kate maintained
her point by an expressive look, and for once Mrs. Nickleby
was stopped upon the very brink of an oration.
" What are your accomplishments ? " asked Mrs. Wititterly,
with her eyes shut.
Kate blushed as she mentioned her principal acquirements,
and Mrs. Nickleby checked them all off, one by one, on her
flingers ; having calculated the number before she came out.
Luckily the two calculations agreed, so Mrs. Nickleby had no
excuse for talking.
" You are a good temper ? " asked Mrs. Wititterly, open-
ing her eyes for an instant, and shutting them again.
" I hope so," rejoined Kate.
" And have a highly respectable reference for everything,
have you ? "
Kate replied that she had, and laid her uncle's card upon
the table.
" Have the goodness to draw your chair a little nearer,
and let me look at you," said Mrs. Wititterly ; " I am so very
near-sighted that I can't quite discern your features."
Kate complied, though not without some embarrassment,
with this request, and Mrs. Wititterly took a languid survey
of her countenance, which lasted some two or three minutes.
" I like your appearance," said that lady, ringing a little
bell. " Alphonse, request your master to come here."
The page disappeared on this errand, and after a short
interval, during which not a word was spoken on either side,
opened the door for an important gentleman of about eight-
and-thirty, of rather plebeian countenance, and with a very light
head of hair, who leant over Mrs. Wititterly for a little time,
and conversed with her in whispers.
" Oh ! " he said, turning round, "yes. This is a most im-
portant matter. Mrs. Wititterly is of a very excitable nature ;
very delicate, very fragile ; a hothouse plant, an exotic,"
" Oh ! Henry, my dear," interposed Mrs. Wititterly.
" You are, my love, you know you are ; one breath — " said
Mr. W., blowing an imaginary feather away. " Pho ! you're
gone ! "
The lady sighed.
" Your soul is too large for your body," said Mr. Wititterly.
" Your intellect wears you out ; all the medical men say so ;
you know that there is not a physician who is not proud of
being called in to you. What is their unanimous declaration ?
270 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
' My dear doctor,' said I to Sir Tumley Snuffim, in this very
room, the very last time he came. ' My dear doctor, what is
my wife's complaint ? Tell me all. I can bear it. Is it nerves ? '
' My dear fellow,' he said, ' be proud of that woman ; make
much of her ; she is an ornament to the fashionable world,
and to you. Her complaint is soul. It swells, expands, dilates —
the blood fires, the pulse quickens, the excitement increases —
Whew ! ' " Here Mr. Wititterly, who in the ardor of his de-
scription, had flourished his right hand to within something
less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby's bonnet, drew it hastily
back again, and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had been
done by some violent machinery.
" You make me out worse than I am, Henry," said Mrs.
Wititterly, with a faint smile.
" I do not, Julia, I do not," said Mr. W. " The society
in which you move — necessarily move, from your station, con-
nection, and endowments — is one vortex and whirlpool of the
most frightful excitement. Bless my heart and body, can I
ever forget the night you danced with the baronet's nephew
at the election ball, at Exeter ! It was tremendous."
" I always suffer for these triumphs afterwards," said Mrs.
Wititterly.
" And for that very reason," rejoined her husband, "you
must have a companion, in whom there is great gentleness,
great sweetness, excessive sympathy, and perfect repose." \
Here, both Mr. and Mrs. Wititterly, who had talked rather
at the Nicklebys than to each other, left off speaking, and
looked at their two hearers, with an expression of countenance
which seemed to say " What do you think of all this ! "
" Mrs. Wititterly," said her husband, addressing himself
to Mrs. Nickleby, " is sought after and courted by glittering
crowds and brilliant circles. She is excited by the opera, the
drama, the fine arts, the — the — the "
"The nobility, my love," interposed Mrs. Wititterly.
" The nobility, of course," said Mr. Wititterly. " And the
military. She forms and expresses an immense variety of
opinions on an immense variety of subjects. If some people
in public life were acquainted with Mrs. Wititterly's real opin-
ion of them, they would not hold their heads, perhaps, quite
as high as they do."
" Hush, Henry," said the lady ; "this is scarcely fair."
" I mention no names, Julia," replied Mr. Wititterly;
" and nobody is injured. I merely mention the circumstance
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 271
to show that you are no ordinary person, that there is a con-
stant friction perpetually going on between your mind and
your body ; and that you must be soothed and tended. Now
let me hear, dispassionately and calmly, what are this young
lady's qualifications for the office."
In obedience to this request, the qualifications w^ere all
gone through again, with the addition of many interruptions
and cross-questionings from Mr. Wititterly. It was finally
arranged that inquiries should be made, and a decisive answer
addressed to Miss Nickleby under cover to her uncle, within
two days. These conditions agreed upon, the page showed
them down as far as the staircase window ; and the big foot-
man, relieving guard at that point, piloted them in perfect
safety to the street-door.
" They are very distinginshed people, evidently," said Mrs.
Nickleby, as she took her daughter's arm. " What a superior
person Mrs. Wititterly is ! "
" Do you think so, mama ? " was all Kate's reply.
" Why, who can help thinking so, Kate, my love ? "
rejoined her mother. " She is pale though, and looks much
exhausted. I hope she may not be wearing herself out, but
I am very much afraid."
These considerations led the deep-sighted lady into a cal-
culation of the probable duration of Mrs. Wititterly's life, and
the chances of the disconsolate widower bestowing his hand
on her daughter. Before reaching home, she had freed Mrs.
Wititterly's soul from all bodily restraint ; married Kate with
great splendor at St. George's, Hanover Square ; and only
left undecided the minor question, whether a splendid French-
polished mahogany bedstead should be erected for herself in
the two-pair back of the house in Cadogan Place, or in the
three-pair front, between which apartments she could not
quite balance the advantages, and therefore adjusted the ques-
tion at last, by determining to leave it to the decision of her
son-in-law.
The inquiries were made. The answer — not to Kate's
vpry-^rWf JAT^— wis m^JfJlK^ • and"at'"TneT^in-atimi oF a
week she betook herself, with all her movables and valuables,
to Mrs. Wititterly's mansion, where for the present we_ will
leave her. --.-.,,»...,.-..- .■.
JUL
<::yuA4iuyVi
272 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
CHAPTER XXII.
NICHOLAS, ACCOMPANIED BY SMIKE, SALLIES FORTH TO SEEK
HIS FORTUNE ; HE ENCOUNTERS MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES ;
AND WHO HE WAS, IS HEREIN MADE MANIFEST.
The whole capital which Nicholas found himself entitled
to, either in possession, reversion, remainder, or expectancy,
after paying his rent and settling with the broker from whom
he had hired his poor furniture, did not exceed, by more than
a fevv half-pence, the sum of twenty shillings. And yet he
hailed the morning on which he had resolved to quit London,
with a light heart, and sprang from his bed with an elasticity
of spirit which is happily the lot of young persons, or the world
would never be stocked with old ones.
It was a cold, dry, foggy morning in early spring. A few
meagre shadows flitted to and fro in the misty streets, and oc-
casionally there loomed through the dull vapor, the heavy
outline of some hackney-coach wending homewards, which,
drawing slowly nearer, rolled jangling by, scattering the thin
crust of frost from its whitened roof and soon was lost again in
the cloud. At intervals were heard the tread of slipshod feet,
and the chilly cry of the poor sweep as he crept, shivering, to
his early toil ; the heavy footfall of the official watcher of
the night, pacing slowly up and down and cursing the tardy
hours that still intervened between him and sleep ; the rum-
bling of ponderous carts and wagons ; the roll of the lighter vehi-
cles which carried buyers and sellers to the different markets ;
the sound of ineffectual knocking at the doors of heavy sleepers
— all these noises fell upon the ear from time to time, but all
seemed muffied by the fog, and to be rendered almost as in-
distinct to the ear as was every object to the sight. The
sluggish darkness thickened as the day came on ; and those
who had the courage to rise and peep at the gloomy street
from their curtained windows, crept back to bed again, and
coiled themselves up to sleep.
Before even these indications of approaching morning
were rife in busy London, Nicholas had made his way alone
to the city, and stood beneath the windows of his mother's
house. It was dull and bare to see, but it had light and life
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 273
for him ; for there was at least one heart within its old walls
to which insult or dishonor would brinfr the same blood rush-
ing, that flowed in his own veins.
He crossed the road, and raised his e3'^es to the window of
the room where he knew his sister slept. It was closed and
dark. " Poor girl," thought Nicholas, " she little thinks who
lingers here ! "
He looked again, and felt, for the moment, almost vexed
that Kate was not there to exchange one word at parting.
" Good God ! " he thought, suddenly correcting himself,
" what a boy I am ! "
" It is better as it is," said Nicholas, after he had lounged
on, a few paces, and returned to the same spot. "When I
left them before, and could have said good-by a thousand
times if I had chosen, I spared them the pain of leave-taking,
and why not now .'' " As he spoke, some fancied motion of
the curtain almost persuaded him, for the instant, that Kate
was at the window, and by one of those strange contradictions
of feeling which are common to us all, he shrunk involun-
tarily into a door-way, that she might not see him. He smiled
at his own weakness ; said " God bless them ! " and walked
away with a lighter step.
Smike was anxiously expecting him when he reached his
old lodgings, and so was Newman, who had expended a day's
income in a can of rum and milk to prepare them for the
journey. They had tied up the luggage, Smike shouldered it,
and away they went, with Newman Noggs in company ; for he
had insisted on walkins; as far as he could with them, overniirht.
" Which way ? " asked Newman, wistfully.
"To Kingston first," replied Nicholas.
" And where afterwards ? " asked Newman. " Why won't
you tell me .'' "
" Because I scarcely know myself, good friend," rejoined
Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder ; "and if I did,
I have neither plan nor prospect yet, and might shift my
quarters a hundred times before you could possibly communi-
cate with me."
" I am afraid you have some deep scheme in your head,"
said Newman, doubtfully.
" So deep," replied his young friend, " that even I can't
fathom it. Whatever I resolve upon, depend upon it I will
write you soon."
18
274
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
You won't forget ? " said Newman.
" I am not very likely to," rejoined Nicholas. " I have
not so many friends that I shall grow confused among the
number, and forget my best one."
Occupied in such discourse, they walked on for a couple
of hours, as they might have done for a couple of days if
Nicholas had not sat himself down on a stone by the way-
side, and resolutely declared his intention of not moving
another step until Newman Noggs turned back. Having
pleaded ineffectually first for another half-mile, and afterwards
for another quarter, Newman was fain to comply, and to
shape his course towards Golden Square, after interchanging
many hearty and affectionate farewells, and many times turn-
ing back to wave his hat to the two wayfarers when they had
become mere specks in the distance.
" Now listen to me, Smike," said Nicholas, as they trudged
with stout hearts onwards. " We are bound for Ports-
mouth."
Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressed no
other emotion ; for whether they had been bound for Ports-
mouth or Port Royal would have been alike to him, so they
had been bound together.
" I don't know much of these matters," resumed Nicholas ;
" but Portsmouth is a sea-port town, and if no other employ-
ment is to be obtained, I should think we might get on board
some ship. I am young and • active, and could be useful in
many ways. So could you."
" I hope so," replied Smike. " When I was at that — you
know where I mean ? "
" Yes, I know," said Nicholas. " You needn't name the
place."
" Well, when I was there," resumed Smike ; his eyes
sparkling at the prospect of displaying his abilities ; " I could
milk a cow, and groom a horse, with anybody."
" Ha ! " said Nicholas, gravely. " I am afraid they don't
keep many animals of either kind on board ship, Smike, and
even when they have horses that they are not very particular
about rubbing them down ; still you can learn to do some-
thing else, you know. Where there's a will, there's a way."
" And I am very willing," said Smike, cheering up again.
" God knows you are," rejoined Nicholas ; " and if you
fail, it shall go hard but I'll do enough for us both."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 275
" Do we go all the way, to-day ? " asked Smike, after a
short silence.
" That would be too severe a trial, even for your willing
legs," said Nicholas, with a good-humored smile. "No.
Godalming is some thirty and odd miles from London — as I
found from a map I borrowed — and I purpose to rest there.
We must push on again to-morrow, for we are not rich enough
to loiter. Let me relieve you of that bundle ! Come ! "
'"No, no," rejoined Smike, falling back a few steps.
" Don't ask me to give it up to you."
" Why not } " asked Nicholas.
"Let me do something for 5'ou, at least," said Smike.
" You will never let me serve you as I ought. You will never
know how I think, day and night, of ways to please you."
" You are a foolish fellow to say it, for I know it well, and
see it, or I should be a blind and senseless beast," rejoined
Nicholas. " Let me ask you a question while I think of it,
and there is no one by," he added, looking him steadily in the
face. " Have you a good memory ? "
" I don't know," said Smike, shaking his head sorrow-
fully. " I think I had once ; but it's all gone now — all
gone."
" Why do you think you had once ? " asked Nicholas,
turning quickly upon him as though the answer in some way
helped out the purport of his question.
" Because I could remember, when I was a child," said
Smike, " but that is very, very long ago, or at least it seems
so. I was always confused and giddy at that place you took
me from ; and could never remember, and sometimes couldn't
even understand, what they said to me. I — let me see — let
me see ! "
" You are wandering now," said Nicholas, touching him
on the arm.
" No," replied his companion, with a vacant look. " I
was only thinking how ." He shivered in\'oluntarily as
he spoke.
" Think no more of that place, for it is all over," retorted
Nicholas, fixing his eye full upon that of his companion,
which was fast settling into an unmeaning stupefied gaze, once
habitual to him, and common even then. " What of the first
day you went to Yorkshire .? "
" Eh ! " cried the lad.
" That was before you began to lose your recollection, you
276 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
know," said Nicholas quietly. " Was the weather hot or
cold ? "
" Wet," replied the boy. " Very wet. I have always said,
when it has rained hard, that it was like the night I came ;
and they used to crowd round and laugh to see me cry when
the rain fell heavily. It was like a child, they said, and that
made me think of it more. I turned cold all over sometimes,
for I could see myself as I was then, coming in at the very
same door."
" As you were then," repeated Nicholas, with assumed
carelessness ; " how was that ? "
" Such a little creature," said Smike, " that they might
have had pity and mercy upon me, only to remember it."
" You didn't find your way there, alone ! " remarked
Nicholas.
" No," rejoined Smike, "oh no."
" Who was with you ? "
" A man — a dark, withered man. I have heard them say
so, at the school, and I remembered that before. I was glad
to leave him, I was afraid of him ; but they made me more
afraid of them, and used me harder too."
" Look at me," said Nicholas, wishing to attract his full
attention. " There ; don't turn away. Do you remember no
woman, no kind woman, who hung over you once, and kissed
your lips, and called you her child ? '
" No," said the poor creature, shaking his head, " no,
never."
" Nor any house but that house in Yorkshire ? "
" No," rejoined the youth, with a melancholy look; "a
room — I remember I slept in a room, a large lonesome room
at the top of a house, where there was a trap-door in the ceil-
ing. I have covered my head with the clothes often, not
to see it, for it frightened me : a young child with no one near
at night : and I used to wonder what was on the other side.
There was a clock too, an old clock, in one corner. I remem-
ber that. I have never forgotten that room ; for when I have
terrible dreams, it comes back, just as it was. I see things
and people in it that I had never seen then, but there is the
room just as it used to be ; that never changes."
" Will you let me take the bundle now ? " asked Nicholas,
abruptly changing the theme.
" No," said Smike, " no. Come, let us walk on."
He quickened his pace as he said this, apparently undei
NICHOLAS NICK'LEBY. 277
the impression that they had been standing still, during the
whole of the previous dialogue. Nicholas marked him closely,
and every word of this conversation remained upon his
memor}-.
It was, by this time, within an hour of noon, and although
a dense vapor still enveloped the city they had left, as if the
very breath of its busy people hung over their schemes of gain
and profit and found greater attraction there than in the quiet
region above, in the open country it was clear and fair. Occa-
sionally, in some low spots they came upon patches of mist
which the sun had not yet driven from their strongholds ; but
these were soon pa<:sed, and as they labored up the hills be-
yond, it was pleasant to look down, and see how the sluggish
mass rolled heavily off, before the cheering influence of day.
A broad, fine, honest sun lighted up the green pastures and
dimpled water with the semblance of summer, while it left the
travellers all the invigorating freshness of that early time of
year. The ground seemed elastic under their feet ; the sheep-
bells were music to their ears ; and exhilarated by exercise,
and stimulated by hope, they pushed onward with the strength
of lions.
The day wore on, and all these bright colors subsided,
and assumed a quieter tint, like young hopes softened down
by time, or youthful features by degrees resolving into the
calm and serenity of age. But they were scarcely less beau-
tiful in their slow decline, than they had been in their prime ;
for nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its
own ; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the
grave, is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy, that
we can scarcely mark their progress.
To Godalm'ing they came at last, and here they bargained
for two humble beds, and slept soundly. In the morning they
were astir, though not quite so early as the sun, and again
afoot ; if not with all the freshness of yesterday, still, with
enough of hope and spirit to bear them cheerily on.
It was a harder day's journey than yesterday's, for there
were long and weary hills to climb ; and in journeys, as in life,
it is a great deal easier to go down hill than up. However,
they kept on, with unabated perseverance, and the hill has not
yet lifted its face to heaven that perseverance will not gain
the summit of at last.
They walked upon the rim of the Devil's Punch Bowl ;
and Smike listened with greedy interest as Nicholas read the
2 78 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
inscription upon the stone which, reared upon that wild spot,
tells of a murder committed there by night. The grass on
which they stood, had once been dyed with gore ; and the
blood of the murdered man had run down, drop by drop, into
the hollow which gives the place its name. " The Devil's
Bowl," thought Nicholas, as he looked into the void, " never
held fitter liquor than that."
Onward they kept, with steady purpose, and entered at
length upon a wide and spacious tract of downs, with every
variety of little hill and plain, to change their verdant surface.
Here, there shot up, almost perpendicularly, into the sky, a
height so steep, as to be hardly accessible to any but the
sheep and goats that fed upon its sides, and there, stood a
mound of green, sloping and tapering off so delicately, and
merging so gently into the level ground, that you could scarce
define its limits. Hills swelling above each other ; and undu-
lations, shapely and uncouth, smooth and rugged, graceful
and grotesque, thrown negligently side by side, bounded the
view in each direction ; while frequently, with unexpected
noise, there uprose from the ground a flight of crows, who,
cawing and wheeling round the nearest hill, as if uncertain of
their course suddenly poised themselves upon the wing and
skimmed down the long vista of some opening valley, with the
speed of light itself.
By degrees, the prospect receded more and more on either
hand, and as they had been shut out from rich and extensive
scenery, so they emerged once again upon the open country.
The knowledge that they were drawing near their place of
destination, gave them fresh courage to proceed ; but the way
had been difficult, and they had loitered on the road, and
Smike was tired. Thus twilight had already closed in, when
they turned off the path to the door of a road-side inn, yet
twelve miles short of Portsmouth.
" Twelve miles," said Nicholas, leaning with both hands
on his stick, and looking doubtfully at Smike.
" Twelve long miles," repeated the landlord.
" Is it a good road ? " inquired Nicholas.
''Very bad," said the landlord. As of course, being a
landlord, he would say.
" I want to get on," said Nicholas, hesitating. " I scarcely
know what to do."
" Don't let me influence you," rejoined the landlord. "/
wouldn't go on if it was me."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 279
" Wouldn't you ? " asked Nicholas, with the same uncer-
tainty.
" Not if I knew when I was well off," said the landlord.
And having said it, he pulled up his apron, put his hands into
his pockets, and taking a step or two outside the door, looked
down the dark road with an assumption of great indifference.
A glance at the toil-worn face of Smike determined Nich-
olas, so without any further consideration he made up his mind
to stay where he was.
The landlord led them into the kitchen, and as there was
a good fire he remarked that it was very cold. If there had
happened to be a bad one he would have observed that it was
very warm.
" What can you give us for supper ? " was Nicholas's
natural question.
" Why — what would you like 1 " was the landlord's no less
natural answer.
Nicholas suggested cold meat, but there was no cold meat
— poached eggs, but there were no eggs — mutton chops, but
there wasn't a mutton chop within three miles, though there
had been more last week than they knew what to do with, and
would be an extraordinary supply the day after to-morrow.
" Then," said Nicholas, " I must leave it entirely to you,
as I would have done, at first, if you had allowed me."
" Why, then I'll tell you what," rejoined the landlord.
" There's a gentleman in the parlor that's ordered a hot beef-
steak pudding and potatoes, at nine. There's more of it than
he can manage, and I have very little doubt that if I ask
leave, you can sup with him. I'll do that, in a minute."
" No, no," said Nicholas, detaining him. " I would rather
not. I — at least — pshaw ! why cannot I speak out. Here ;
you see that I am travelling in a very humble manner, and
have made my way hither on foot. It is more than probable,
I think, that the gentleman may not relish my company ; and
although I am the dusty figure you see, I am too proud to
thrust myself into his."
" Lord love you," said the landlord, "it's only Mr. Crumm-
ies ; he isn't particular."
" Is he not ? " asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the
truth, the prospect of the savory pudding was making some
impression.
" Not he. He'll like your way of talking, I know. But
we'll soon see all about that. Just wait a minute."
28o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The landlord hurried into the parlor, without staying for
further permission, nor did Nicholas strive to prevent him :
wisely considering that supper, under the circumstances, was
too serious a matter to trifle with. It was not long before the
host returned, in a condition of much excitement.
" All right," he said in a low voice. " I knew he would.
You'll see something rather worth seeing, in there. Ecod,
how they are a going of it ! "
There was no time to inquire to what this exclamation,
which was delivered in a ver}' rapturous tone, referred ; for he
had already thrown open the door of the room ; into which
Nicholas, followed by Smike with the bundle on his shoulder
(he carried it about with him as vigilantly as if it had been a
sack of gold), straightway repaired.
Nicholas was prepared for something odd, but not for
something quite so odd as the sight he encountered. At the
upper end of the room, were a couple of boys, one of them
very tall and the other very short, both dressed as sailors —
or at least as theatrical sailors, with belts, buckles, pigtails,
and pistols complete — fighting what is called in pi ay -bills a ter-
rific combat, with two of those short broad-swords with basket
hilts which are commonly used at our minor theatres. The
short boy had gained a great advantage over the tall bo}'', who
was reduced to mortal strait, and both were overlooked by a
large heavy man, perched against the corner of a table, who
emphatically adjured them to strike a little more fire out of
the swords, and they couldn't fail to bring the house down,
on the very first night.
"Mr. Vincent Crummies," said the landlord with an air of
great deference. " This is the young gentleman."
Mr. Vincent Crummies received Nicholas with an inclina-
tion of the head, something between the courtesy of* a Roman
emperor and the nod of a pot companion ; and bade the land-
lord shut the door and begone.
"There's a picture," said Mr. Crummies, motioning Nich-
olas not to advance and spoil it. " The little 'un has him ;
if the big 'un doesn't knock under, in three seconds, he's a
dead man. Do that again, boys."
The two combatants went to work afresh, and chopped away
until the swords emitted a shower of sparks: to the great satis-
faction of Mr. Crummies, who appeared to consider this a very
great point indeed. The engagement commenced with about
two hundred chops administered by the short sailor and the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 281
tall sailor, alternately, without producing any particular result,
until the short sailor was chopped down on one knee ; but this
was nothing to him, for he worked himself about on the one
knee with the assistance of his left hand, and fought most des-
perately until the tall sailor chopped his sword out of his grasp.
Now, the inference was, that the short sailor, reduced to this
extremity, would give in at once and cry quarter, but, instead
of that, he all of a sudden drew a large pistol from his belt
and presented it at the face of the tall sailor, who was so over-
come at this (not expecting it) that he let the short sailor pick
up his sword and begin again. Then, the chopping recom-
menced, and a variety of fancy chops were administered on
both sides ; such as chops dealt with the left hand, and under
the leg, and over the right shoulder, and over the left ; and
when the short sailor made a vigorous cut at the tall sailor's
legs, which would have shaved them clean off if it had taken
effect, the tall sailor jumped over the short sailor's sword,
wherefore to balance the matter, and make it all fair, the tall
sailor administered the same cut, and the short sailor jumped
over his sword. After this, there was a good deal of dodging
about, and hitching up of the inexpressibles in the absence of
braces, and then the short sailor (who was the moral character
evidently, for he always had the best of it) made a violent de-
monstration and closed with the tall sailor, who, after a few un-
availing struggles, went down, and expired in great torture as
the short sailor put his foot upon his breast, and bored a hole
in him through and through.
" That'll be a double encore if you take care, boys," said
Mr. Crummies. " You had better get your wind now and
change your clothes."
Having addressed these words to the combatants, he
saluted Nicholas, who then observed that the face of Mr.
Crummies was quite proportionate in size to his body ; that
he had a very full under-lip, a hoarse voice, as though he were
in the habit of shouting very much, and very short black hair,
shaved off nearly to the crown of his head — to admit (as he
afterwards learnt) of his more easily wearing character wigs
of any shape or pattern.
" What do you think of that, sir ? " inquired Mr. Crumm-
ies.
" Very good, indeed — capital," answered Nicholas.
" You won't see such boys as those very often, I think,"
said Mr. Crummies.
282 NICHOLAS NICKLE BY.
Nicholas assented — observing that if they were a little
better match
" Match ! " cried Mr. Crummies.
" I mean if they were a little more of a size," said Nicholas,
explaining himself.
" Size ! " repeated Mr. Crummies ; " why it's the essence
of the combat that there should be a foot or two between
them. How are you to get up the sympathies of the audience
in a legitimate manner, if there isn't a little man contending
against a big one — unless there's at least five to one, and we
haven't hands enough for that business in our company."
" I see," replied Nicholas. " I beg your pardon. That
didn't occur to me, I confess."
" It's the main point," said Mr. Crummies. " I open at
Portsmouth the day after to-morrow, If you're going there,
look into the theatre, and see how that'll tell."
Nicholas promised to do so, if he could, and drawing a
chair near the fire, fell into conversation with the manager at
once. He was very talkative and communicative, stimulated
perhaps, not only by his natural disposition, but by the spirits
and water he sipped very plentifully, or the snuff he took in
large quantities from a piece of whitey-brown paper in his
waistcoat pocket. He laid open his affairs without the small-
est reserve, and descanted at some length upon the merits of
his company, and the acquirements of his family ; of both of
which, the two broadsword boys formed an honorable portion.
There was to be a gathering, it seemed, of the different ladies
and gentlemen at Portsmouth on the morrow, whither the
father and sons were proceeding (not for the regular season,
but in the course of a wandering speculation), after fulfilling
an engagement at Guildford with the greatest applause.
" You are going that way 1 " asked the manager.
" Ye-3'es," said Nicholas. " Yes, I am."
" Do you know the town at all .-* " inquired the manager,
who seemed to consider himself entitled to the same degree
of confidence as he had himself exhibited.
" No," replied Nicholas.
" Never there ? "
" Never."
Mr. Vincent Crummies gave a short dry cough, as much
as to say, " If you won't be communicative, you won't ; " and
took so many pinches of snuff from the piece of paper, one
after another, that Nicholas quite wondered where it all went to.
NICHOLAS NTCKLEB V.
283
While he was thus engaged, Mr. Crummies looked, from
time to time, with great interest at Smike, with whom he had
appeared considerably struck from the first. He had now
fallen asleep, and was nodding in his chair.
" Excuse my saying so," said the manager, leaning over to
Nicholas, and sinking his voice, " but what a capital counten-
ance your friend has got ! "
" Poor fellow ! " said Nicholas, with a half smile, " I wish
it were a little more plump, and less haggard."
" Plump ! " exclaimed the manager, quite horrified, " you'd
spoil it for ever."
" Do you think so 1 "
" Think so, sir ? Why, as he is now," said the manager,
striking his knee emphatically ; " without a pad upon his
body, and hardly a touch of paint upon his face, he'd make such
an actor for the starved business as was never seen in this
country. Only let him be tolerably well up in the Apothecary
in Romeo and Juliet with the slightest possible dab of red on
the tip of his nose, and he'd be certain of three rounds the
moment he put his head out of the practicable door in the
front grooves O. P."
" You view him with a professional eye," said Nicholas.
" And well I may," rejoined the manager, " I never saw a
young fellow so regularly cut out for that line, since I've
been in the profession. And I played the heavy children
when I was eighteen months old."
The appearance of the beef-steak pudding, which came in
simultaneously with the junior Vincent Crummleses, turned
the conversation to other matters, and indeed, for a time,
stopped it altogether. These two young gentlemen wielded
their knives and forks with scarcely less address than their
broad-swords, and as the whole party were quite as sharp set
as either class of weapons, there was no time for talking until
the supper had been disposed of.
The Master Crummleses had no sooner swallowed the last
procurable morsel of food, than they evinced, by various half-
suppressed yawns and stretchings of their limbs, an obvious
inclination to retire for the night, which Smike had betrayed
still more strongly : he having, in the course of the meal,
fallen asleep several times while in the very act of eating.
Nicholas therefore proposed that they should break up at
once, but the manager would by no means hear of it ; vowing
that he had promised himself the pleasure of inviting his new
284 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
acquaintance to share a bowl of punch, and that if he declined,
he should deem it very unhandsome behavior.
" Let them go," said Mr. Vincent Crummies, " and we'll
have it snugly and cosily together by the fire."
Nicholas was not much disposed to sleep — being in truth
too anxious — so, after a little demur, he accepted the ofYer,
and having exchanged a shake of the hand with the young
Crummleses, and the manager having on his part bestowed a
most affectionate benediction on Smike, he sat himself down
opposite to that gentleman by the fireside to assist in empty-
ing the bowl, which soon afterwards appeared, steaming in a
manner which was quite exhilarating to behold, and sending
forth a most grateful and in\'iting fragrance.
But, despite the punch and the manager, who told a variety
of stories, and smoked tobacco from a pipe, and inhaled it in
the shape of snuff, with a most astonishing power, Nicholas
was absent and dispirited. His thoughts were in his old
home, and when they reverted to his present condition, the
uncertainty of the morrow cast a gloom upon him, which his
utmost efforts were unable to dispel. His attention wandered ;
although he heard the manager's voice he was deaf to what
he said ; and when Mr. Vincent Crummies concluded the his-
tory of some long adventure with a loud laugh, and an inquiry
what Nicholas would have done under the same circumstances,
he was obliged to make the best apology in his power, and to
confess his entire ignorance of all he had been talking about.
" Why, so I saw," observed Mr. Crummies. " You're
uneasy in your mind. What's the matter ? "
Nicholas could not refrain from smiling at the abruptness
of the question ; but, thinking it scarcely worth while to parry
it, owned that he was under some apprehensions lest he might
not succeed in the object which had brought him to that part
of the country.
"And what's that? " asked the manager.
" Getting something to do which will keep me and my poor
fellow-traveller in the common necessaries of life," said Nich-
olas. " That's the truth. You guessed it long ago, I dare
say, so I may as well have the credit of telling it you with a
good grace."
" What's to be got to do at Portsmouth more than any-
where else ? " asked Mr. Vincent Crummies melting the seal-
ing-wax on the stem of his pipe in the candle, and rolling it
out afresh with his little finger.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 285
" There are many vessels leaving the port, I suppose,"
replied Nicholas. " I shall try for a berth in some ship or
other. There is meat and drink there, at all events."
" Salt meat and new rum ; pease-pudding and chaff-bis-
cuits," said the manager, taking a whiff at his pipe to keep it
alight, and returning to his work of embellishment.
" One may do worse than that," said Nicholas. " I can
rough it, I believe, as well as most young men of my age and
previous habits."
" You need be able to," said the manager, " if you go on
board ship ; but you won't."
" Why not ? "
" Because there's not a skipper or mate that would think
you worth your salt, when he could get a practiced hand," re-
plied the manager ; " and they as plentiful there, as the oys-
ters in the streets."
" What do you mean ? " asked Nicholas, alarmed by this
prediction, and the confident tone in which it had been uttered.
" Men are not born able seamen. They must be reared, I sup-
pose ? "
Mr. Vincent Crummies nodded his head. " They must ;
but not at your age, or from young gentlemen like you."
There was a pause. The countenance of Nicholas fell,
and he gazed ruefully at the fire.
" Does no other profession occur to you, which a young
man of your figure and address could take up easily, and see
the world to advantage in ? " asked the manager.
" No," said Nicholas, shaking his head.
"Why, then, I'll tell you one," said Mr. Crummies, throw-
ing his pipe into the fire, and raising his voice. " The stage."
" The stage ! " cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud.
" The theatrical profession," said Mr. Vincent Crummies.
" I am in the theatrical profession myself, my wife is in the
theatrical profession, my children are in the theatrical profes-
sion. I had a dog that li\'ed and died in it from a puppy ;
and my chaise-pony goes on in Timour the Tartar. I'll bring
you out, and your friend too. Say the word. I want a novelty."
" I don't know anything about it," rejoined Nicholas,
whose breath had been almost taken away by this sudden pro-
posal. " I never acted a part in my life, except at school."
" There's genteel comedy in your walk and manner, juvenile
tragedy in your eve, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh."
said Mr. Vincent Crummies. " You'll do as well as if you had
286 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
thought of nothing else but the lamps, from your birth down-
wards."
Nicholas thought of the small amount of small change that
would remain in his pocket after paying the tavern bill ; and
he hesitated.
" You can be useful to us in a hundred ways," said Mr.
Crummies. " Think what capital bills a man of your educa-
tion could write for the shop windows."
"Well I think I could manage that department," said
Nicholas.
" To be sure you could," replied Mr. Crummies. " ' For
further particulars see small hand-bills ' — we might have half
a volume in every one of 'em. Pieces too ; why, you could
write us a piece to bring out the whole strength of the com-
pany, whenever we wanted one."
" I am not quite so confident about that," replied Nicholas
" But I dare say I could scribble something now and then,
that would suit you."
" We'll have a new show piece out directly," said the
manager. " Let me see — peculiar resources of this establish-
ment— new and splendid scenery — you must manage to intro-
duce a real pump and two washing-tubs."
" Into the piece ? " said Nicholas.
"Yes," replied the manager. "I bought 'em cheap at a
sale the other day, and they'll come in admirably. That's the
London plan. They look up some dresses and properties, and
have a piece written to fit 'em. Most of the theatres keep an
author on purpose."
" Indeed ! " cried Nicholas.
"Oh yes," said the manager; "a common thing. It'll
look very well in the bills in separate lines — Real pump !
— Splendid tubs ! — Great attraction ! You don't happen to be
anything of an artist, do you .' "
" That is not one of my accomplishments," rejoined
Nicholas.
" Ah ! Then it can't be helped," said the manager. " If
you had been, we might have had a large woodcut of the last
scene for the posters, showing the whole depth of the stage,
with the pump and tubs in the middle ; but, however, if you're
not, it can't be helped."
" What should I get for all this ? " inquired Nicholas, after
a few moments' reflection. " Could I live by it ?"
" Live by it ! " said the manager. " Like a prince ! With
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 287
your own salary, and your friends, and your writings, you'd
make — ah ! you'd make a pound a week ! "
" You don't say so ! "
" I do indeed, and if we had a run of good houses, nearly
double the money."
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders ; but sheer destitution was
before him ; and if he could summon fortitude to undergo the
extremes of want and hardship, for what had he rescued his
helpless charge if it were only to bear as hard a fate as that
from which he had wrested him ? It was easy to think of
seventy miles as nothing, when he was in the same town with
the man who had treated him so ill and roused his bitterest
thoughts ; but now, it seemed far enough. What if he went
abroad, and his mother or Kate were to die the while ?
Without more deliberation, he hastily declared that it was
a bargain, and gave Mr. Vincent Crummies his hand upon it.
^«^
CHAPTER XXIII. \
TREATS OF THE COMPANY OF MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES, AND OF
HIS AFFAIRS, DOMESTIC AND THEATRICAL.
As Mr. Crummies had a strange four-legged animal in the
inn stables, which he called a pony, and a vehicle of unknown
design, on which he bestowed the appellation of a four-wheeled
phaeton, Nicholas proceeded on his journey next morning
with greater ease than he had expected ; the manager and him-
self occupying the front seat ; and the Master Crummleses
and Smike being packed together behind, in company with a
wicker basket defended from wet by a stout oilskin, in which
were the broad-swords, pistols, pigtails, nautical costumes,
and other professional necessaries of the aforesaid young
gentlemen.
The pony took his time upon the road, and — possibly in
consequence of his theatrical education — evinced, every now
and then, a stroner inclination to lie down. However, Mr.
Vincent Crummies kept him up pretty well, by jerkmg the
rein, and plying the whip ; and when these means failed, and
the animal came to a stand, the elder Master Crummies got
28S NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
out and kicked him. By dint of these encouragements, he
was persuaded to move from time to time, and they jogged on
(as Mr. Crummies truly observed) very comfortably for all
parties.
" He's a good pony at bottom," said Mr. Crummies, turn-
ing to Nicholas.
He might have been at bottom, but he certainly was not
at top, seeing that his coat was of the roughest and most ill-
favored kind. So, Nicholas merely observed that he shouldn't
wonder if he was.
" Many and many is the circuit this pony has gone," said
Mr. Crummies, flicking him skilfully on the eyelid for old
acquaintance sake. " He is quite one of us. His mother was
on the stage."
" Was she ? " rejoined Nicholas.
" She ate apple-pie at a circus for upwards of fourteen
years," said the manager ; " fired pistols, and went to bed in a
nightcap ; and, in short, took the low comedy entirely. His
father was a dancer."
" Was he at all distinguished ? "
"Not very," said the manager. " He was rather a low sort
of pony. The fact is, he had been originally jobbed out by
the day, and he never quite got over his old habits. He was
clever in melodrama too, but too broad — too broad. When
the mother died he took the port wine business."
" The port wine business ! '" cried Nicholas.
" Drinking port wine with the clown," said the manager ;
"but he was greedy, and one night bit off the bowl of the glass
and choked himself, so his vulgarity was the death of him at
last."
The descendant of this ill-starred animal requiring in-
creased attention from Mr. Crummies as he progressed in his
day's work, that gentleman had veiy little time for conversa-
tion. Nicholas was thus left at leisure to entertain himself
with his own thoughts, until they arrived at the drawbridge at
Portsmouth, when Mr. Crummies pulled up
" We'll get down here," said the manager, " and the boys
will take him round to the stable, and call at my lodgings
with the luggage. You had better let yours be taken there,
for the present."
Thanking Mr. Vincent Crummies for his obliging offer,
Nicholas jumped out, and, giving Smike his arm, accompanied
the manager up High Street on their way to the theatre \ feel-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 289
ing nervous and uncomfortable enough at the prospect of an
immediate introduction to a scene so new to him.
They passed a great many bills, pasted against the walls
and displayed in windows, wherein the names of Mr. Vincent
Crummies, Mrs. Vincent Crummies, Master Crummies, Mas-
ter P. Crummies, and Miss Crummies, were printed in very
large letters, and everything else in very small ones ; and,
turning at length into an entry, in which was a strong smell
of orange-peel and lamp-oil, with an under-current of saw-dust,
groped their way through a dark passage, and, descending a
step or two, threaded a little maze of canvas screens and paint-
pots, and emerged upon the stage of the Portsmouth Theatre.
" Here we are," said Mr. Crummies.
It was not very light, but Nicholas found himself close to
the first entrance on the prompt side, among bare walls, dusty
scenes, mildewed clouds, heavily daubed draperies, and dirty
floors. He looked about him ; ceiling, pit, boxes, gallery,
orchestra, fittings, and decorations of every kind, — all looked
coarse, cold, gloomy, and wretched.
" Is this a theatre ? " whispered Smike, in amazement ;
" I thought it was a blaze of light and finer}'."
" Why, so it is," replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised ;
" but not by day, Smike — not by day."
The manager's voice recalled him from a more careful in-
spection of the building, to the opposite side of the proscenium,
where, at a small mahogany table with rickety legs, and of an
oblong shape, sat a stout, portly female, apparently between
forty and fifty, in a tarnished silk cloak, with her bonnet
dangling by the strings in her hand, and her hair (of which
she had a great quantity) braided in a large festoon over each
temple.
" Mr. Johnson," said the manager (for Nicholas had given
the name which Newman Noggs had bestowed upon him in
his conversation with Mrs. Kenwigs), " let me introduce Mrs.
Vincent Crummies."
" I am glad to see you, sir," said Mrs. Vincent Cnmimles,
in a sepulchral voice. " I am very glad to see you, and still
more happy to hail you as a promising member of our corps."
The lady shook Nicholas by the hand as she addressed
him ill these terms ; he saw it was a large one, but had not
expected quite such an iron grip as that with which she
honored him.
"And this," said the lady, crossing to Smike, as tragic
19
290
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
actresses cross when they obey a stage direction, " and this
is the other. You too, are welcome, sir."
" He'll do, I think, my dear ? " said the manager, taking a
pinch of snuff.
" He is admirable," replied the lady. " An acquisition
indeed."
As Mrs. Vincent Crummies recrossed back to the table,
there bounded on to the sta-^e from some mysterious inlet, a
little girl in a dirty white frock with tucks up to the knees,
short trousers, sandaled shoes, white spencer, pink gauze
bonnet, green veil and curl-papers ; who turned a pirouette,
cut twice in the air, turned another pirouette, then, looking
off at the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded forward to within
six inches of the footlights, and fell into a beautiful attitude
of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an old pair of buff slippers
came in at one powerful slide, and chattering his teeth, fiercely
brandished a walking-stick.
" They are going through the Indian Savage and the
Maiden," said Mrs. Crummies.
" Oh ! " said the manager, " the little ballet interlude.
Very good, go on. A little this wav, if you please, Mr. John-
son. That'll do. Now ! "
The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed,
and the savage, becoming ferocious, made a slide towards the
maiden ; but the maiden avoided him in six twirls, and came
down, at the end of the last one, upon the very points of her
toes. This seemed to make some impression upon the savage ;
for, after a little more ferocity and chasing of the maiden into
corners, he began to relent, and stroked his face several times
with his right thumb and forefingers, thereby intimating that
he was struck with admiration of the maiden's beauty. Acting
upon the impulse of this passion, he (the savage) began to hit
himself severe thumps in the chest, and to exhibit other in-
dications of being desperately in love, which being rather a
prosy proceeding, was very likely the cause of the maiden's
falling asleep ; whether it was or no, asleep she did fall,
sound as a church, on a sloping bank, and the savage per-
ceiving it, leant his left ear on his left hand, and nodded side-
ways, to intimate to all whom it might concern that she was
asleep, and no shamming. Being left to himself, the savage
had a dance, all alone. Just as he left off, the maiden woke
up, rubbed her eyes, got off the bank, and had a dance all
alone too — such a dance that the savage looked on in ecstasy
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 291
all the while, and when it was done, plucked from a neighbor-
ing^ tree some botanical curiosity, resembling a small pickled
cabbage, and offered it to the maiden, who at first wouldn't
have it, but on the savage shedding tears relented. Then
the savage jumped for joy ; then the maiden jumped for rap-
ture at the sweet smell of the pickled cabbage. Then the
savage and the maiden danced violently together, and, finally,
the savage dropped down on one knee, and the maiden stood
on one leg upon his other knee ; thus concluding the ballet,
and leaving the spectators in a state of pleasing uncertainty,
whether she would ultimately marry the savage, or return to
her friends.
"Very well indeed," said Mr. Crummies ; "bravo ! "
" Bravo ! " cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of
ever^'thing. " Beautiful ! "
"This, sir," said Mr. Vincent Crummies, bringing the
maiden forward, " This is the infant phenomenon — Miss
Ninetta Crummies."
" Your daughter ? " inquired Nicholas.
" My daughter — my daughter," replied Mr. Vincent
Crummies ; " the idol of ever}' place we go into, sir. We
have had complimentary letters about this girl, sir, from the
nobility and gentry of almost every town in England."
" I am not surprised at that," said Nicholas ; " she must
be quite a natural genius."
"Quite a — ! " Mr. Crummies stopped : language was not
powerful enough to describe the infant phenomenon. " I'll tell
you what, sir," he said ; " the talent of this child is not to be
imagined. She must be seen, sir — seen — to be ever so faintly
appreciated. There ; go to your mother, mv dear."
" May I ask how old she is .' " inquired Nicholas.
"You may, sir," replied Mr. Crummies, looking steadily
in his questioner's face, as some men do when they have
doubts about being implicitly believed in what they are going
to say. " She is ten years of age, sir."
" Not more ! "
" Not a day."
" Dear me ! " said Nicholas, "it's extraordinar)'."
It was ; for the infant phenomenon, though of short stature,
had a comparatively aged countenance, and had moreover
been precisely the same age — -not perha])s to the full extent
of the memor}' of the oldest inhabitant, but certainly for five
good years. But she had been kept up late every night, and
292 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
put upon an unlimited allowance of gin and water from in-
fancy, to prevent her growing tall, and perhaps this system of
training had produced in the infant phenomenon these addi-
tional phenomena.
While this short dialogue was going on, the gentleman
who had enacted the savage, came up, with his walking shoes
on his feet,- and his slippers in his hand, to within a few
paces, as if desirous to join in the conversation. Deeming this
a good opportunity, he put in his word.
" Talent there, sir ! " said the savage, nodding towards Miss
Crummies.
Nicholas assented.
" Ah ! " said the actor, setting his teeth together, and draw-
ing in his breath with a hissing sound, " she oughtn't to be in
the provinces, she oughtn't."
"What do you mean ? " asked the manager.
"I mean to say," replied the other, warmly, "that she is
too good for country boards, and that she ought to be in one
of the large houses in London, or nowhere ; and I tell you
more, without mincing the matter, that if it wasn't for envy
and jealousy in some quarter that you know of, she would
be. Perhaps you'll introduce me here, Mr. Crummies."
" Mr. Folair," said the manager, presenting him to Nich-
olas.
" Happy to know you, sir." Mr. Folair touched the brim
of his hat with his forefinger, and then shook hands. " A
recruit, sir, I understand .-" "
" An unworthy one," replied Nicholas.
" Did you ever see such a set out as that ? " whispered the
actor, drawing him away, as Crummies left them to speak to
his wife.
" As what ? "
Mr. Folair made a funny face from his pantomime collec-
tion, and pointed over his shoulder.
" You don't mean the infant phenomenon .? "
" Infant humbug, sir," replied Mr. Folair. "There isn't a
female child of common sharpness in a charity school, that
couldn't do better than that. She may thank her stars she
was born a manager's daughter."
" You seem to take it to heart," observed Nicholas, with a
smile.
"Yes, by Jove, and well I may," said Mr. Folair, drawing
his arm through his, and walking him up and down the stage.
NICHOLAS NICK'LEBY. 293
" Isn't it enough to make a man crusty to see that Utile
sprawler put up in the best business every night, and actually
keeping money out of the house, by being forced down the
people's throats, while other people are passed over ? Isn't
it extraordinary to see a man's confounded family conceit
blinding him, even to his own interest? Why I knowoi fifteen
and sixpence that came to Southampton one night last
month, to see me dance the Highland Fling ; and what's the
consequence? I've never been put up in it since — never once
— while the ' infant phenomenon ' has been grinning through
artificial flowers at fi\'e people and a baby in the pit, and two
boys in the galleiy, every night."
" If I may judge from what I have seen of you," said
Nicholas, " you must be a valuable member of the company."
" Oh ! " replied Mr. Folair, beating his slippers together,
to knock the dust out ; " I can come it pretty well — nobody
better, perhaps, in my line — but having such business as one
gets here, is like putting lead on one's feet instead of chalk,
and dancing in fetters without the credit of it. Holloa, old fel-
low, how are you ? "
The gentleman addressed in the latter words, was a dark
complexioned man, inclining indeed to sallow, with long
thick black hair, and very evident indications (although he
was close shaved) of a stiff beard, and whiskers of the same
deep shade. His age did not appear to exceed thirty, though
many at first sight would ha\'e considered him much older, as
his face was long, and very pale from the constant application
of stage paint. He wore a checked shirt, an old green coat
with new gilt buttons, a neckerchief of broad red and green
stripes, and full blue trousers ; he carried, too, a common ash
walking-stick, apparently more for show than use, as he
flourished it about, with the hooked end downwards, except
when he raised it for a few seconds, and throwing himself into
a fencing attitude, made a pass or two at the side scenes, or
at any other object, animate or inanimate, that chanced to
afford him a pretty good mark at the moment.
" Well, Tommy," said this gentleman, making a thrust at
his friend, who parried it with his slipper, " what's the news ? "
"A new appearance, that's all," replied Mr. Folair, look-
ing at Nicholas.
" Do the honors. Tommy, do the honors," said the other
gentleman, tapping him reproachfully on the crown of the hat
with his stick.
204 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
"This is Mr. Lenville, who does our first tragedy, Mr.
Johnson," said the pantomimist.
" Except when old bricks and mortar takes it into his head
to do it himself, you should add, Tommy,"' remarked Mr.
Lenville. " You know who bricks and mortar is, I suppose, sir ? "
" I do not, indeed," replied Nicholas.
" We call Crummies that, because his style of acdng is
rather in the heavy and ponderous way," said Mr. Lenville. " I
mustn't be cracking jokes though, for I've got apart of twelve
lengths here, which I must be up in to-morrow night, and I
haven't had time to look at it yet ; Lm a confounded quick
study, that's one comfort."
Consoling himself with this reflection, Mr. Lenville drew
from his coat-pocket a greasy and crumpled manuscript, and,
having made another pass at his friend, proceeded to walk to
and fro, conning it to himself and indulging occasionally in such
appropriate action as his imagination and the text suggested.
A pretty general muster of the company had by this time
taken place ; for besides Mr. Lenville and his friend Tommy,
there were present, a slim young gentleman with weak eyes,
who played the low-spirited lovers and sang tenor songs, and
who had come arm-in-arm with the comic countryman — a man
with a turned up nose,' large mouth, broad face, and staring
eyes. Making himself veiy amiable to the infant phenomenon,
was an inebriated elderly gentleman in the last depths of
shabbiness, who played the calm and virtuous old men ; and
paying especial court to Mrs. Crummies was another elderly
gentleman, a shade more respectable, who played the irascib/le
old men — those funny fellows who have nephews in the army
and perpetually run about with thick sticks to compel them to
marry heiresses. Besides these there was a roving-looking per-
son in a rough great-coat, who strode up and down in front of
the lamps, flourishing a dress cane, and rattling away, in an
undertone, with great vivacity, for the amusement of an ideal
audience. He was not quite so young as he had been, and his
figure was rather running to seed ; but there was an air of
exaggerated gentility about him, which bespoke the hero of
swaggering comedy. There was, also, a little group of three
or four young men, with lantern jaws and thick eyebrows,
who were conversing in one corner ; but they seemed to be of
secondary importance, and laughed and talked together with-
out attracting any attention.
The ladies were gathered in a little knot by themselves
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 295
round the rickety table before mentioned. There was Miss
Snevellicci — who could do anything, from a medley dance to
Lady Macbeth, and also always played some part in blue silk
knee-smalls at her benefit — glancing, from the depths of her
coal-scuttle straw bonnet, at Nicholas, and affecting to be
absorbed in the recital of a diverting story to her friend Miss
Ledrook, who had brought her work, and was making up a
ruff in the most natural manner possible. There was Miss
Belvawney — who seldom aspired to speaking parts, and usually
went on as a page in white silk hose, to stand with one leg-
bent, and contemplate the audience, or to go in and out after
Mr. Crummies in stately tragedy — twisting up the ringlets of
the beautiful Miss Bravassa, who had once had her likeness
taken " in character " by an engraver's apprentice, whereof im-
pressions were hung up for sale in the pastry-cook's window, and
the green-grocer's, and at the circulating library, and the box-
office, whenever the announce bills came out for her annual
night. There was Mrs. Lenville, in a very limp bonnet and
veil, decidedly in that way in which she would wish to be if
she truly loved Mr. Lenville ; there was Miss Gazingi, with
an imitation ermine boa tied in a loose knot round her neck,
flogging Mr. Crummies, junior, with both ends, in fun. Lastly,
there was Mrs. Grudden in a brown cloth pelisse and a beaver
bonnet, who assisted Mrs. Crummies in her domestic affairs,
and took money at the doors, and dressed the ladies, and
swept the house, and held the prompt book when everybody
else was on for the last scene, and acted any kind of part on
any emergency without ever learning it, and was put down in
the bills under any name or names whatever, that occurred to
Mr. Crummies as looking well in print.
Mr. Folair having oliligin^'lv confided these particulars to
Nicholas, left him to mingle with his fellows ; the work of
personal introduction was completed by Mr. Vincent Crumm-
ies, who publicly heralded the new actor as a prodigy of ge-
nius and learning.
" I beg your pardon," said Miss Snevellicci, sidling
towards Nicholas, " but did you ever play at Canterbury ? "
" I never did," replied Nicholas.
" I recollect meeting a gentleman at Canterbur}'," said
Miss Snevellicci, " only for a few moments, for I was leaving
the company as he joined it, so like you that I felt almost
certain it was the same."
" I see you now, for the first time," rejoined Nicholas with
296
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
all due gallantry. " I am sure I never saw you before ; I
couldn't have forgotten it."
"Oh, I'm sure — it's very flattering of you to say so," re-
torted Miss Snevellicci with a graceful bend. " Now I look
at you again, I see that the gentleman at Canterbury hadn't
the same eyes as you — you'll thinli me very foolish for taking
notice of such things, won't you .'' "
" Not at all," said Nicholas. "How can I feel otherwise
than flattered by your notice in any way ? "
" Oh, you men are such vain creatures ! " cried Miss
Snevellicci. Whereupon, she became charmingly confused,
and, pulling out her pocket-handkerchief from a faded pink
silk reticule with a gilt clasp, called to Miss Ledrook —
" Led, my dear," said Miss Snevellicci.
" Well, what is the matter ? " said Miss Ledrook.
" It's not the same."
" Not the same what ? "
" Canterbury — you know what I mean. Come here ! I
want to speak to you."
But Miss Ledrook wouldn't come to Miss Snevellicci, so
Miss Snevellicci was obliged to go to Miss Ledrook, which
she did, in a skipping manner that was quite fascinating ; and
Miss Ledrook evidently joked Miss Snevellicci about being
struck with Nicholas ; for, after some playful whispering, Miss
Snevellicci hit Miss Ledrook veiy hard on the backs of her
hands, and retired up, in a state of pleasing confusion.
" Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Vincent Crummies, who
had been writing on a piece of paper, " we'll call the Mortal
Struggle to-morrow at ten ; ever^-body for the procession.
Intrigue, and Ways and Means, you're all up in, so we shall
only want one rehearsal. Everybody at ten, if you please."
" Everybody at ten," repeated Mrs. Grudden, looking
about her.
"On Monday morning we shall read a new piece," said
Mr. Crummies ; " the names not known yet, but everybody
will have a good part. Mr. Johnson will take care of that."
" Hallo ! " said Nicholas^ starting, " I "
" On Monday morning," repeated Mr. Crummies, raising
his voice, to drown the unfortunate Mr. Johnson's remon-
strance ; "that'll do, ladies and gentlemen."
The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to
quit ; and, in a few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by
the Crummies' family, Nicholas, and Smike.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
297
" Upon my word," said Nicholas, taking the manager
aside, " I don't think I can be ready by Monday."
"Pooh, pooh," replied Mr. Crummies.
"But really 1 can't," returned Nicholas; "my invention
is not accustomed to these demands, or possibly 1 might
produce "
" Invention ! what the devil's that got to do with it ! " cried
the manager, hastily.
" Everything, my dear sir."
" Nothing, my dear sir," retorted the manager, with
evident impatience. " Do you understand French ? "
" Perfectly well."
"Very good," said the manager, opening the table-drawer,
and giving a roll of paper from it to Nicholas. " There I
Just turn that into English, and put your name on the title-
page. Damn me," said Mr. Crummies, angrily, " If I haven't
often said that I wouldn't have a man or woman in my
company that wasn't master of the language, so that they
might learn it from the original, and play it in English, and
save all this trouble and expense."
Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play.
" What are you going to do about your lodgings .-• " said
Mr. Crummies.
Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week,
it would be an uncommon convenience to have a turn-up bed-
stead in the pit, but he merely remarked that he had not
turned his thoughts that way.
" Come home with me then," said Mr. Crummies, " and
my boys shall go with you after dinner, and show you the
most likely place."
The offer was not to be refused ; Nicholas and Mr.
Crummies gave Mrs. Crummies an arm each, and walked up
the street in stately array. Smike, the boys, and the phe-
nomenon, went home by a shorter cut, and Mrs. Grudden
remained behind to take some cold Irish stew and a pint of
porter in the box-office.
Mrs. Crummies trod the pavement as if she were going
to immediate execution with an animating consciousness
of innocence, and that heroic fortitude which virtue alone
inspires. Mr. Crummies, on the other hand, assumed the
look and gait of a hardened despot ; but they both attracted
some notice from many of the passers-by, and when they
heard a whisper of " Mr. and Mrs. Crummies ! " or saw a little
2^8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
boy run back to stare them in the face, the severe expression
of their countenances relaxed, for they felt it was popularity.
Mr. Crummies lived in Saint Thomas Street, at the house
of one Bulph, a pilot, who sported a boat-green door, with
window-frames of the same color, and had the little finger of
a drowned man on his parlor mantel-shelf, with other maritime
and natural curiosities. He displayed also a brass knocker,
a brass plate, and a brass bell handle, all very bright and
shining ; and had a mast, with a vane on the top of it, in his
back yard.
" You are welcome," said Mrs. Crummies, turning round
to Nicholas when they reached the bow-windowed front room
on the first floor.
Nicholas bowed his acknowledgments, and was unfeignedly
glad to see the cloth laid.
" We have but a shoulder of mutton with onion sauce,"'
said Mrs. Crummies, in the same charnel-house voice ; " but
such as our dinner is, we beg you to partake of it."
" You are very good," replied Nicholas, " I shall do it
ample justice."
"Vincent," said Mrs. Crummies, "what is the hour?"
"Five minutes past dinner-time," said Mr. Crummies.
Mrs. Crummies rang the bell. " Let the mutton and onion
sauce appear."
The slave who attended upon Mr. Bulph's lodgers, dis-
appeared, and after a short interval re-appeared with the fes-
tive banquet. Nicholas and the infant phenomenon opposed
each other at the pembroke-table, and Smike and the master
Crummleses dined on the sofa bedstead.
" Are they very theatrical people here ? " asked Nicholas.
"No," replied Mr. Crummies, shaking his head, "far
from it — far from it."
" I pity them," observed Mrs. Crummies.
" So do I," said Nicholas; "if they have no relish for
theatrical entertainments, properly conducted."
" Then they have none, sir," rejoined Mr. Crummies. " To
the infant's benefit, last year, on which occasion she repeated
three of her most popular characters, and also appeared in the
Fairy Porcupine, as originally performed by her, there was a
house of no more than four pound twelve."
" Is it possible ? " cried Nicholas.
" y\nd two pound of that was trust, pa," said the phe-
nomenon.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 299
"And two pound of that was trust," repeated Mr. Crumm-
ies. '' Mrs. Crummies herself has played to mere handfuls."
** But they are always a taking audience, Vincent," said
the manager's wife.
" Most audiences are, when they have good acting — real
good acting — the regular thing," replied Mr. Crummies,
forcibly.
"Do you give lessons, ma'am .^" inquired Nicholas. •
"I do," said Mrs. Crummies.
" There is no teaching here, I suppose ? "
"There has been," said Mrs. Crummies. "I have re-
ceived pupils here. I imparted tuition to the daughter of a
dealer in ships' provision ; but it afterwards appeared that
she was insane when she first came to me. It was ver}^ ex-
traordinary that she would come, under such circumstances."
Not feeling quite so sure of that, Nicholas thought it best
to hold his peace.
" Let me see,"' said the manager, cogitating after dinner.
" Would you like some nice little part with the infant ? "
"You are ver\^ good," replied Nicholas hastily; "but I
think perhaps it would be better if I had somebody of my own
size at first, in case I should turnout awkward. I should feel
more at home perhaps."
"True," said the manager. " Perhaps you would. And
you could play up to the infant, in time, you know."
"Certainly," replied Nicholas: devoutlv hoping that it
would be a very long time before he was honored with this
distinction.
" Then I'll tell you what we'll do." said Mr. Crummies.
"You shall study Romeo when you've done that piece — don't
forget to throw the pump and the tubs in by the bye — Juliet
Miss Snevellicci, old Grudden the nurse. — Yes, that'll do very
well. Rover too ; — you might get up Rover while you were
about it, and Cassio, and Jeremy Diddler. You can easilv
knock them off; one part helps the other so much. Here
they are, cues and all."
With these hasty general directions Mr. Crummies thrust
a number of little books into the faltering hands of Nicholas,
and bidding his eldest son go with him and show where
lodgings were to be had, shook him by the hand, and wished
him good-night.
There is no lack of comfortable furnished apartments in
Portsmouth, and no difficulty in finding some that are pro-
300 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
portionate to very slender finances ; but the former were too
good, and the latter too bad, and they went into so many
houses, and came out unsuited, that Nicholas seriously began
to think he should be obliged to ask permission to spend the
night in the theatre after all.
Eventually, however, they stumbled upon two small rooms
up three pair of stairs, or rather two pair and a ladder, at a
tobacconist's shop, on the Common Hard : a dirty street lead-
ing down to the dockyard. These Nicholas engaged, only too
happy to have escaped any request for payment of a week's
rent beforehand.
"There! Lay down our personal property, Smike," he
said, after showing young Crummies down stairs. " We have
fallen upon strange times, and Heaven only knows the end of
them : but I am tired with the events of these three days, and
will postpone reflection till to-morrow — if I can."
CHAPTER XXIV.
OF THE GREAT BESPEAK FOR MISS SNEVELLICCI, AND THE
FIRST APPEARANCE OF NICHOLAS UPON ANY STAGE
Nicholas was up betimes in the morning ; but he had
scarcely begun to dress, notwithstanding, when he heard foot-
steps ascending the stairs, and was presently saluted by the
voices of Mr. Folair the pantomimist, and Mr. Lenville, the
tragedian.
" House, house, house!" cried Mr. Folair.
" What, ho ! within there ! " said Mr. Lenville, in a deep
voice.
" Confound these fellows ! " thought Nicholas ; " they
have come to breakfast, I suppose. I'll open the door
directly, if you'll wait an instant."
The gentlemen entreated him not to hurry himself ; and,
to beguile the interval, had a fencing bout with their walking-
sticks on the very small landing-place : to the unspeakable
discomposure of all the other lodgers down stairs.
" Here, come in," said Nicholas, when he had completed
his toilet. " In the name of all that's horrible, don't make
that noise outside."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 301
"An uncommon snug little box this," said Mr. Lenville,
stepping into the front room, and taking his hat off, before he
could get in at all. " Pernicious snug."
" For a man at all particular in such matters, it might be
a trifle too snug," said Nicholas ; " for, although it is, un-
doubtedly, a great con\enience to be able to reach anything
you want from the ceiling or the floor, or either side of the
room, without having to move from your chair, still these ad-
vantages can only be had in an apartment of the most limited
size."
" It isn't a bit too confined for a single man," returned
Mr. Lenville. "That reminds me, — my wife, Mr. Johnson, —
I hope she'll have some good part in this piece of yours ? "
" I glanced at the French copy last night," said Nicholas.
" It looks very good I think."
" What do you mean to do for me, old fellow ? " asked Mr.
Lenville, poking the struggling fire with his walking-stick, and,
afterwards wiping it on the skirt of his coat. " Anything in
the gruff and grumble way ? "
" You turn your wife and child out of doors," said Nicholas ;
" and in a fit of rage and jealousy, stab your eldest son in the
library."
" Do I though } " exclaimed Mr. Lenville. " That's ver)^
good business."
" xA.fter which," said Nicholas, "You are troubled with re-
morse till the last act, and then you make up your mind to
destroy yourself. But just as you are raising the pistol to your
head, a clock strikes — ten."
"I see," cried Mr. Lenville. " Very good."
"You pause," said Nicholas; "You recollect to have
heard a clock strike ten in your infancy. The pistol falls
from your hand — you are overcome — you burst into tears, and
become a virtuous and exemplary character for ever after-
wards."
" Capital ! " said Mr. Lenville : "that's a sure card, a sure
card. Get the curtain down with a touch of nature like that,
and it'll be a triumphant success."
" Is there anything good for me .^ " inquired Mr. Folair,
anxiously.
" Let me see," said Nicholas. " You play the faithful and
attached servant ; you are turned out of doors with the wife
and child."
" Always coupled with that infernal phenomenon," sighed
3 o 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
Mr. Folair ; " and we go into poor lodgings, where I won't
take any wages, and talk sentiment, I suppose ? "
"Why — yes," replied Nicholas : " that is the course of the
piece."
" I must have a dance of some kind, you know," said Mr.
Folair. " You'll have to introduce one for the phenomenon,
so you'd better make a pas de deux, and save time."
" There's nothing easier than that," said Mr. Lenville, ob-
serving the disturbed looks of the young dramatist.
" Upon my word I don't see how it's to be done," rejoined
Nicholas.
" Why, isn't it obvious ? " reasoned Mr. Lenville. " Gad
zooks, who can help seeing the way to do it ? — you astonish
me ! You get the distressed lady, and the little child, and
the attached servant, into the poor lodgings, don't you ?
— Well, look here. The distressed lady sinks into a
chair, and buries her face in her pocket handkerchief —
' What makes you weep, mama ? ' says the child. ' Don't
weep, mama, or you'll make me weep too ! ' — ' And me ! ' says
the faithful ser\-ant, rubbing his eyes with his arm. ' What
can we do to raise your spirits, clear mama .-' ' says the little
child. ' Ay, what ca7i we do ? ' says the faithful servant. ' Oh,
Pierre! ' says the distressed lady ; 'would that I could shake
off these painful thoughts.' — ' Try, ma'am, try,' says the faith-
ful servant ; ' rouse yourself, ma'am ; be amused.' — ' I will,'
says tlie lady, ' I will learn to suffer with fortitude. Do you
remember that dance, my honest friend, which, in happier
days, you practised with this sweet angel ? It never failed to
calm my spirits then. Oh ! let me see it once again before
I die ! '—there it is — cue for the band before I die, — and off
they go. That's the regular thing ; isn't it. Tommy ? "
"That's it," replied Mr. Folair. "The distressed lady,
overpowered by old recollections, faints at the end of the
dance, and you close in with a picture."
Profiting by these and other lessons, which were the result
of the personal experience of the two actors, Nicholas wil-
lingly gave them the best breakfast he could, and, when heat
length got rid of them, applied himself to his task : by no
means displeased to find that it was so much easier than he
had at first supposed. He worked very hard all day, and did
not leave his room until the evening, when he went down to
the theatre, whither Smike had repaired before him to go on
with another gentleman as a general rebellion.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 3 03
Here all the people were so much changed, that he scarcely
knew them. False hair, false color, false calves, false muscles
— they had become different beings. Mr. Lenville was a bloom-
ing warrior of most exquisite proportions ; Mr. Crummies, his
large face shaded by a profusion of black hair, a Highland out-
law of most majestic bearing ; one of the old gentleman a gaoler,
and the other a venerable patriarch ; the comic countrj^man,
a fighting-man of great valor, relieved by a touch of humor ;
each of the master Crummleses a prince in his own right ; and
the low-spirited lover, a desponding captive. There was a
gorgeous banquet ready spread for the third act, consisting of
two pasteboard vases, one plate of biscuits, a black bottle, and
a vinegar cruet ; and, in short, everything was on a scale of
the utmost splendor and preparation.
Nicholas was standing with his back to the curtain,
now contemplating the first scene, which was a Gothic arch-
way, about two feet shorter than Mr. Crummies, through which
that gentleman was to make the first entrance, and now listen-
ing to a couple of people who were cracking nuts in the gal-
ler}', wondering whether they made the whole audience,
when the manager himself walked familiarly up and accosted
him.
" Been in front to-night ? " said Mr. Crummies.
"No," replied Nicholas, "not yet. I am going to see the
play."
" We've had a pretty good Let," said Mr. Crummies.
. " Four front places in the centre, and the whole of the stage-
box."
" Oh, indeed ! " said Nicholas ; " a family, I suppose .' "
"Yes," replied Mr. Crummies, "yes. It's an affecting
thing. There are six children, and they never come unless the
phenomenon plays."
It would have been difficult for any party, family or other-
wise, to have visited the theatre on a night when the phenom-
enon did no/ play, inasmuch as she always sustained one, and
not uncommonly two or three, characters, every night ; but
Nicholas, sympathizing with the feelings of a father, refrained
from hinting at this trifling circumstance, and Mr. Crummies
continued to talk, uninterrupted by him.
"Six," said that gentleman ; " Pa and Ma eight, aunt nine,
governess ten, grandfather and grandmother twelve. Then,
there's the footman, who stands outside, with a bag of oranges
and a jug of toast-and-water and sees the play for nothing
204 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
through the little pane of glass in the box-door — it's cheap at
a guinea ; they gain by taking a box."
"I wonder you allow so many," observed Nicholas.
" There's no help for it," replied Mr. Crummies ; " it's
always expected in the country. If there are six children,
six people come to hold them in their laps. A family-box
carries double always. Ring in the orchestra, Grudden ! "
That useful lady did as she was requested, and shortly
afterwards the tuning of three fiddles was heard. Which pro-
cess having been protracted as long as it was supposed
that the patience of the audience could possibly bear it,
was put a stop to by another jerk of the bell, which, being
the signal to being in earnest, set the orchestra playing a
variety of popular airs, with involuntary variations.
If Nicholas had been astonished at the alteration for the
better which the gentlemen displayed, the transformation of
the ladies was still more extraordinary'. When, from a snug
corner of the manager's box, he beheld Miss Snevellicci in all
the glories of white muslin with a golden hem, and Mrs.
Crummies in all the dignity of the outlaw's wife, and Miss
Bravassa in all the sweetness of Miss Snevellicci's confiden-
tial friend, and Miss Belvawney in the white silks of a
page doing duty everywhere and swearing to live and die in
the service of everybody, he could scarcely contain his
admiration, which testified itself in great applause, and the
closest possible attention to the business of the scene. The
plot was most interesting. It belonged to no particular age,
people, or country, and was perhaps the more delightful on that
account, as nobody's previous information could aftord the re-
motest glimmering of what would ever come of it. An outlaw
had been very successful in doing something somewhere, and
came home, in triumph, to the sounds of shouts and fiddles,
to greet his wife — a lady of masculine mind, who talked a
good deal about her father's bones, which it seemed were un-
buried, though whether from a peculiar taste on the part of
the old gentleman himself, or the reprehensible neglect of his
relations, did not appear. This outlaw's wife was, somehow
or other, mixed up with a patriarch living in a castle a long
way off, and this patriarch was the father of several of the
characters, but he didn't exactly know which, and was uncer-
tain whether he Iiad brought up the right ones in his castle, or
the wrong ones ; he rather incUned to the latter opinion, and,
being uneasy, relieved his mind with a banqiiet, during which
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
305
solemnity somebody in a cloak said " Beware ! " which some-
body was known by nobody (except the audience) to be the
outlaw himself, who had come there, for reasons unexplained,
but possibly with an eye to the spoons. There was an agree-
able little surprise in the way of certain love passages between
the desponding captive and Miss Snevellicci, and the ccmic
fighting-man and Miss JJravassa ; besides which, Mr. Lenville
had several very tragic scenes in the dark, while on throat-
cutting expeditions, which were all baffled by the skill and
bravery of the comic fighting-man (who overheard whatever
was said all through the piece) and the intrepidity of Miss
Snevellicci, who adopted tights, and therein repaired to the
prison of her captive lover, with a small basket of refresh-
ments and a dark lantern. At last, it came out that the patri-
arch was the man who had treated the bones of the outlaw's
father-in-law with so much disrespect, for which cause and
reason the outlaw's wife repaired to his castle to kill him, and
so got into a dark room, where, after a good deal of groping
in the dark, everybody got hold of everybody else, and took
them for somebody besides which occasioned a vast quantity
of confusion, with some pistoling, loss of life, and torchlight ;
after which, the patriarch came forward, and observing, with
a knowing look, that he knew all about his children now, and
would tell them when they got inside, said that there could
not be a more appropriate occasion for marrying the young
people than that-; and therefore he joined their hands, with
the full consent of the indefatigable page, who (being the only
other person surviving) pointed with his cap into the clouds,
and his right hand to the ground ; thereby invoking a blessing
and giving the cue for the curtain to come down, which it did,
amidst general applause.
" What did you think of that ? " asked Mr. Crummies, when
Nicholas went round to the stage again. Mr. Crummies was
ve'ry red and hot, for your outlaws are desperate fellows to
shout.
" I think it was very capital indeed," replied Nicholas ;
"Miss Snevellicci in particular was uncommonly good."
'' She's a genius," said Mr. Crummies ; " quite a genius,
that girl. By the bye, I've been thinking of bringing out that
piece of yours on her bespeak night."
" When .? " asked Nicholas.
" The night of her bespeak. Her benefit night, when her
friends and patrons bespeak the play," said Mr. Crummies.
20
3o6
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Oh ! I understand," replied Nicholas.
" You see," said Mr. Crummies, " it's sure to go, on such
an occasion, and even if it should not work up quite as well
as we expect, why it will be her risk, you know, and not ours."
" Yours, you mean," said Nicholas.
" I said mine, didn't I ? " returned Mr. Crummies. " Next
Monday week. What do you say 1 You'll have done it, and
are sure to be up in the lover's part, long before that time."
"I don't know about 'long before,'" replied Nicholas;
" but by that time I think I can undertake to be ready."
" Very good," pursued Mr. Crummies, " then we'll call
that settled. Now I want to ask you something else. There's
a little — what shall I call it — a little canvassing takes place
on these occasions."
" Among the patrons, I suppose ? " said Nicholas.
"Among the patrons ; and the fact is, that Snevellicci has
had so many bespeaks in this place, that she wants an attrac-
tion. She had a bespeak when her mother-in-law died, and a
bespeak when her uncle died ; and Mrs. Crummies and my-
self have had bespeaks on the anniversary of the phenom-
enon's birthday, and our wedding-day, and occasions of that
description, so that, in fact, there's some difficulty in getting a
good one. Now, won't you help this poor girl, Mr. Johnson.'"'
said Crummies, sitting himself down on a drum, and taking
a great pinch of snuff, as he looked him steadily in the face.
" How do you mean .'"' rejoined Nicholas.
" Don't you think you could spare half-an-hour to-morrow
morning, to call with her at the houses of one or two of the
principal people .'' " murmured the manager in a persuasive
tone.
" Oh dear me," said Nicholas, with an air of very strong
objection, " I shouldn't like to do that."
" The infant will accompany her," said Mr. Crummies.
" The moment it was suggested to me, I gave permission for
the infant to go. There will not be the smallest impropriety
— Miss Snevellicci, sir, is the ver}^ soul of honor. It would
be of material service — the gentleman from London — author
of the new piece — actor in the new piece — first appearance on
any boards — it would lead to a great bespeak, Mr. Johnson."
" I am very sorry to throw a damp upon the prospects of
anybody, and more especially a lady," replied Nicholas,*
" but really 1 must decidedly object to making one of the
canvassing party."
NICHOLAS NICKLF.BY. 307
" What does Mr, Johnson say, Vincent ? " inquired a voice
close to his ear; and, loolcing round, he found Mrs. Crummies
and Miss Snevellicci herself standing behind him.
" He has some objection, my dear," replied Mr. Crummies,
looking at Nicholas.
" Objection ! " exclaimed Mrs. Crummies. " Can it be
possible ? "
" Oh, I hope not ! " cried Miss Snevellicci. " You surely
are not so cruel — oh, dear me ! — Well, I — to think of that
now, after all one's looking forward to it ! "
" Mr. Johnson will not persist, my dear," said Mrs.
Crummies. " Think better of him than to suppose it. Gal-
lantry, humanity, all the best feelings of his nature must be
enlisted in this interesting cause."
"Which moves even a manager," said Mr. Crummies,
smiling.
" And a manager's wife," added Mrs. Crummies, in her
accustomed tragedy tones. " Come, come, you will relent,
1 know you will."
" It is not in my nature," said Nicholas, moved by these
appeals, " to resist any entreaty, unless it is to do something
positively wrong ; and, beyond a feeling of pride, I know noth-
ing which should prevent my doing this. I know nobody
here, and nobody knows me. So be it then. I yield."
Miss Snevellicci was at once overwhelmed with blushes
and expressions of gratitude, of which latter commodity
neither Mr. nor Mrs. Crummies was by any means sparing.
It was arranged that Nicholas should call upon her, at her
lodgings, at eleven next morning, and soon after they parted :
he to return home to his authorship: Miss Snevellicci to
dress for the after-piece : and the disinterested manager and
his wife to discuss the probable gains of the forthcoming
bespeak, of which they were to have two-thirds of the profits
by solemn treaty of agreement.
At the stipulated hour next morning, Nicholas repaired to
the lodgings of Miss Snevellicci, which were in a place called
Lombard Street, at the house of a tailor. A strong smell of
ironing pervaded the little passage ; and the tailor's daughter,
who opened the door, appeared in that flutter of spirits which
is so often attendant upon the periodical getting up of a
family's linen.
" Miss Snevellicci lives here, I believe ? " said Nicholas,
when the door was opened.
3o8
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
The tailor's daughter replied in the affirmative.
" Will you have the goodness to let her know that Mr.
Johnson is here ? " said Nicholas.
" Oh, if you please you're to come up stairs," replied the
tailor's daughter, with a smile.
Nicholas followed the young lady, and was shown into a
small apartment on the first floor, communicating with a back
room ; in which, as he judged from a certain half-subdued
clinking sound, as of cups and saucers, Miss Snevellicci was
then taking her breakfast in bed.
"You're to wait, if you please," said the tailor's daughter,
after a short period of absence, during which the clinking in
the back room had ceased, and had been succeeded by whisper-
ing. " She won't be long."
As she spoke she pulled up the window-Liind, and having
by this means (as she thought) diverted Mr. Johnson's atten-
tion from the room to the street, caught up some articles which
were airing on the fender, and had very much the appearance
of stockings, and darted off.
As there were not many objects of interest outside the
window, Nicholas looked about the room with more curiosity
than he might otherwise have bectowed upon it. On the sofa
lay an old guitar, several thumbed pieces of music, and a
scattered litter of curl-papers : together with a confused heap
of play-bills, and a pair of soiled white satin shoes with large
blue rosettes. Hanging over the back of a chair was a half-
finished muslin apron v.'ith little pockets ornamented with red
ribbons, such as waiting-women wear on the stage, and (by
consequence) are never seen with anywhere else. In one
corner stood the diminutive pair of top-boots in which Miss
Snevellicci was accustomed to enact the little jockey, and,
folded on a chair hard by, was a small parcel, which bore a
very suspicious resemblance to the companion smalls.
But the most interesting object of all, was, perhaps, the
open scrap-book, displayed in the midst of some theatrical
duodecimos that were strewn upon the table ; and pasted into
which scrap-book were various critical notices of Miss Snevel-
licci's acting, extracted from different provincial journals, to-
gether with one poetic address in her honor commencing —
Sinj;, God of Lovo, and tell me in wh.it dearth
Thrice-f;ifted Snevellicci came on earth,
To thrill us with her smile, her tear, her eye,
Sing, God of Love, and tell me quickly why.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 309
Besides this effusion, there were innumerable complimentary
allusions, also extracted from newspapers, such as — " We ob-
serve from an advertisement in another part of our paper of
to-day, that the charming and highly-talented Miss Snevel-
licci takes her benefit on Wednesday, for which occasion she
has put forth a bill of fare that might kindle exhilaration in
the breast of a misanthrope. In the confidence that our fel-
low-townsmen have not lost that high appreciation of public
utility and private worth, for which they have long been so
pre-eminently distinguished, we predict that this charming
actress will be greeted with a bumper." " To Correspond-
ents.— J. S. is misinformed when he supposes that 'the highly-
gifted and beautiful Miss Snevellicci, nightly captivating all
hearts at our pretty and commodious little theatre, is not the
same lady to whom the young gentleman of immense fortune,
residing within a hundred miles of the good city of York,
lately made honorable proposals. We have reason to know
that Miss Snevellicci is the lady who was implicated in that
mysterious and romantic affair, and whose conduct on that
occasion did no less honor to her head and heart, than do her
histrionic triumphs to her brilliant genius." A copious assort-
ment of such paragraphs as these, with long bills of benefits
all ending with "Come Early," in large capitals, formed the
principal contents of Miss Snevellicci's scrap-book.
Nicholas had read a great many of these scraps, and was
absorbed in a circumstantial and melancholy account of the
train of events which had led to Miss Snevellicci's spraining
her ankle by slipping on a piece of orange-peel flung by a
monster in human form, (so the paper said,) upon the stage at
Winchester, — when that young lady herself, attired in the
coal-scuttle bonnet and walking-dress complete, tripped nito
the room, with a thousand apologies for having detained him
so long after the appointed time.
" But really," said Miss Snevellicci, " my darling Led, who
lives with me here, was taken so very ill in the night that I
thought she would have expired in my arms."
" Such a fate is almost to be envied," returned Nicholas,
"but I am very sorry to hear it nevertheless."
" What a creature you are to flatter ! " said Miss Snevel-
licci, buttoning her glove in much confusion.
" If it be flattery to admire your charms and accomplish-
ments," rejoined Nicholas, laying his hand upon the scrap-
book, "you have better specimens of it here."
3IO
NICHOLAS AICKLEB Y.
" Oh you cruel creature, to read such things as those !
I'm ahnost ashamed to look you in the face afterwards, posi-
tively I am," said Miss Snevellicci, seizing the book and putting
it away in a closet. " How careless of Led ! How could she
be so naughty ! "
" I thought 3'ou had kindly left it here, on purpose for me
to read," said Nicholas. And really it did seem possible.
" I wouldn't have had you see it for the world ! " rejoined
Miss Snevellicci. " I never was so vexed — never ! But she
is such a careless thing, there's no trusting her."
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of
the phenomenon, who had discreetly remained in the bedroom
up to this moment, and now presented herself, with much
grace and lightness, bearing in her hand a very little green
parasol with a broad fringe border, and no handle. After a
few words of course, they sallied into the street.
The phenomenon was rather a troublesome companion, for
first the right sandal came down, and then the left, and these
mischances being repaired, one leg of the little white trousers
was discovered to be longer than the other ; besides these ac-
cidents, the green parasol was dropped down an iron grating,
and only fished up again, with great difficulty and by dint
of much exertion. Plowever, it was impossible to scold her,
as she was the manager's daughter, so Nicholas took it all in
perfect good humor, and walked on, with Miss Snevellicci,
arm in arm on one side, and the offending infant on the other.
The first house to which they bent their steps, was situated
in a terrace of respectable appearance. Miss Snevellicci's
modest double-knock was answered by a foot-boy, who, in re-
ply to her inquiry whether Mrs. Curdle was at home, opened
his eyes very wide, grinned very much, and said he didn't
know, but he'd inquire. With this, he showed them into a
parlor where he kept them waiting, until the two women-ser-
vants had repaired thither, under false pretences, to see the
pla3^-actors ; and having compared notes with them in the pas-
sage, and joined in a vast quantity of whispering and gig-
gling, he at length went up stairs with Miss Snevellicci'-s
name.
Now, Mrs. Curdle was supposed, by those who were best
informed on such points, to possess quite the London taste in
matters relating to literature and the drama ; and as to Mr.
Curdle, he hacl written a pamphlet of sixty-four pages, post
octavo, on the character of the Nurse's deceased husband in
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 311
Romeo and Juliet, with an inquiry whetlier he really had been
a "merry man" in his life-time, or whether it was merely his
widow's affectionate partiality that induced her so to report
him. He had likewise pro\ed, that by altering the received
mode of punctuation, any one of Shakspeare's plays could be
made quite different, and the sense completely changed ; it is
needless to say, therefore, that he was a great critic, and a
very profound and most original thinker.
" Well, Miss Snevellicci," said Mrs. Curdle, entering the
parlor, " and how do jou do ? "
Miss Snevellicci made a graceful obeisance, and hoped
Mrs. Curdle was well, as also Mr. Curdle, who at the same
time appeared. Mrs. Curdle was dressed in a morning wrap-
per, with a little cap stuck upon the top of her head. Mr.
Curdle wore a loose robe on his back, and his right forefinger
on his forehead after the portraits of Sterne, to whom some-
body or other had once said he bore a striking resemblance.
" I ventured to call, for the purpose of asking whether you
would put your name to my bespeak, ma'am," said Miss
Snevellicci, producing documents.
"Oh! I really don't know what to say," replied Mrs.
Curdle. " It's not as if the theatre was in its high and palmy
days — you needn't stand. Miss Snevellicci — the drama is
gone, perfectly gone."
" As an exquisite embodiment of the poet's visions, and a
realization of human intellectuality, gilding with refulgent
light our dreamy moments, and laying open a new and magic
world before the mental eye, the drama is gone, perfectly
gone," said Mr. Curdle.
"What man is there, now living, who can present before
us all those changing and prismatic colors with which the
character of Hamtet is invested .? " exclaimed Mrs. Curdle.
"What man indeed — upon the stage," said Mr. Curdle,
with a small reservation in favor of himself. " Hamlet !
Pooh ! ridiculous ! Hamlet is gone, perfectly gone."
Quite overcome by these dismal refiections, Mr. and Mrs.
Curdle sighed, and sat for some short time without speaking.
At lengtli, the lady, turning to Miss Snevellicci, inquired what
play she proposed to ha\-e.
" Quite a new one," said Miss Snevellicci, " of which this
gentleman is the author, and in which he plays ; being his
first appearance on any stage. Mr. Johnson is the gentle-
man's name."
312^ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" I hope you have preserved the unities, sir ? " said Mr.
Curdle.
" The original piece is a French one," said Nicholas.
" There is abundance of incident, sprightly dialogue, strongly-
marked characters "
" — AH unavailing without a strict obsen-ance of the unities,
sir," returned Mr. Curdle. " The unities of the drama, be-
fore everything."
" Might I ask you," said Nicholas, hestitating between the
respect he ought to assume, and his love of the whimsical,
"might I ask you what the unities are t "
Mr. Curdle coughed and considered. " The unities, sir,"
he said, " are a completeness — a kind of a universal dovetail-
edness with regard to place and time — a sort of a general
oneness, if I may be allowed to use so strong an expression.
I take those to be the dramatic unities, so far as I have been
enabled to bestow attention upon them, and I have read much
upon the subject, and thought much. I find, running through
the performances of this child," said Mr. Curdle, turning to
the phenomenon, " a unity of feeling, a breadth, a light and
shade, a warmth of coloring, a tone, a harmony, a glow, an
artistical development of original conceptions, which I look
for, in vain, among older performers. I don't know whether
I make myself understood ? "
" Perfectly," replied Nicholas.
" Just so," said Mr. Curdle, pulling up his neckcloth.
" That is my definition of the unities of the drama."
Mrs. Curdle had sat listening to this lucid explanation
with great complacency. It being finished, she inquired what
Mr, Curdle thought, about putting down their names.
" I don't know, my dear ; upon my word I don't know,"
said Mr. Curdle. " If we do, it must be distinctly understood
that we do not pledge ourselves to the quality of the perform-
ances. Let it go forth to the world, that we do not give
thetn the sanction of our names, but that we confer the dis-
tinction merely upon Miss Snevellicci. That being clearly
stated, I take it to be, as it were, a duty, that we should ex-
tend our patronage to a degraded stage, even for the sake of
the associations with which it is entwined. Have you got two-
and-sixpence for half-a-crown, Miss Snevellicci ? " said Mr.
Curdle, turning over four of those pieces of money.
Miss Snevellicci felt in all the corners of the pink reticule,
but there was nothing in any of them. Nicholas murmured a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 313
jest about his being an author, and thought it best not to go
through the form of feehng in his own pockets at all
" Let me see," said Mr, Curdle : " twice four's eight — four
shillings a-piece to the boxes, Miss Snevellicci, is exceedingly
dear in the present state of the drama — three half-crowns is
seven-and-six ; we shall not differ about sixpence, I suppose ?
Sixpence will not part us, Miss Snevellicci ? "
Poor Miss Snevellicci took the three half-crowns, with
many smiles and bends, and Mrs. Curdle, adding several sup-
plementary directions relative to keeping the places for
them, and dusting the seat, and sending two clean bills as
soon as they came out, rang the bell, as a signal for breaking
up the conference.
"Odd people those," said Nicholas, when they got clear
of the house.
" I assure you," said Miss Snevellicci, taking his arm,
" that I think myself very lucky they did not owe all the
money instead of being sixpence short. Now, if you were to
succeed, they would give people to understand that they had
always patronized you ; and if you were to fail, they would
have been quite certain of that from the ver}' beginning."
At the next house they visited they were in great glory ;
for, there, resided the six children who were so enraptured
with the public actions of the phenomenon, and who, being
called down from the nursery to be treated with a pri\ate
view of that young lady, proceeded to poke their fingers into
her eyes, and tread upon her toes, and show her many other
little attentions peculiar to their time of life.
" I shall certainly persuade Mr. Eorum to take a private
box," said the lady of the house, after a most gracious recep-
tion. " I shall only take two of the children, and will make
up the rest of the party of gentlemen — your admirers. Miss
Snevellicci. Augustus, you naughty boy, leave the little girl
alone."
This was addressed to a young gentleman who was pinch-
ing the phenomenon behind, apparently with a view of ascer-
taining whether she was real.
" I am sure you must be very tired," said the mama, turn-
ing to Miss Snevellicci. " I cannot think of allowing you to
go, without first taking a glass of wine. Fie, Charlotte, I am
ashamed of you ! Miss Lane, my dear, pray see to the chil-
dren."
Miss Lane was the governess, and this entreaty was ren-
314 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
dered necessary by the abrupt behavior of the youngest Miss
Borum, who, having filched the phenomenon's little green
parasol, was now carrying it bodily off, while the distrac'.e:!
infant looked helplessly on.
" I am sure, where you ever learnt to act as you do," said
good-natured Mrs. Borum, turning again to Miss Snevellicci,
" 1 cannot understand (Emma, don't stare so) ; laughing in
one piece, and crying in the next, and so natural in all — oh,
dear ! "
" I am very happy to hear you express so favorable an
opinion," said Miss Snevellicci. " It's quite delightful to think
you like it."
" Like it ! " cried Mrs. Borum. " Who can help liking it !
I would go to the play twice a week if I could : I dote upon
it. Only you're too affecting sometimes. You do put me in
such a state ; into such fits of crying ! Goodness gracious me.
Miss Lane, how can you let them torment that poor child so ! "
The phenomenon was really in a fair way of being torn
limb from limb ; for two strong little boys, one holding on by
each of her hands, were dragging her in different directions as
a trial of strength. However, Miss Lane (who had herself
been too much occupied in contemplating the grown-up actors,
to pay the necessary attention to these proceedings) rescued
the unhappy infant at this juncture, who, being recruited with
a glass of wine, was shortly afterwards taken away by her
friends, after sustaining no more serious damage than a flat-
tening of the pink gauze bonnet, and a rather extensive creas-
ing of the white frock and trousers.
It was a trying morning ; for there were a great many calls
to make, and everybody wanted a different thing. Some
wanted tragedies, and others comedies ; some objected to
dancing ; some wanted scarcely anything else. Some thought
the comic singer decidedly low, others hoped he would have
more to do than he usually had. Some people wouldn't prom-
ise to go, because other people wouldn't promise to go ; and
other people wouldn't go at all, because other people went.
At length, and by little and little, omitting something in this
place, and adding something in that. Miss Snevellicci pledged
herself to a bill of fare which was comprehensive enough, if it
had no other merit (it included among other trifles, four pieces,
divers songs, a few combats, and several dances) ; and they
returned home, pretty well exhausted with the business of the
day.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 3 1 5
Nicholas worked away at the piece, which was speedily
put into rehearsal, and. then worked away at his own part,
which he studied with great perseverance and acted — as the
whole company said — to perfection. And at length the great
day arrived. The crier was sent round, in the morning, to
proclaim the entertainments with sound of bell in all the
thoroughfares ; and extra bills of three feet long by nine inches
wide, were dispersed in all directions, flung down all the
areas, thrust under all the knockers, and developed in all the
shops. They were placarded on all the walls too, though
not with complete success, for an illiterate person having un-
dertaken this office during the indisposition of the regular bill-
sticker, a part were posted sideways, and the remainder up-
side down.
At half-past five, there was a rush of four people to the
gallery-door ; at a quarter before six, there were at least a dozen;
at six o'clock the kicks were terrific ; and when the elder Mas-
ter Crummies opened the door, he was obliged to run behind
it for his life. Fifteen shillings were taken by Mrs. Grudden
in the first ten minutes.
Behind the scenes, the same unwonted excitement prevailed.
Miss Snevellicci was in such a perspiration that the paint
would scarcely stay on her face. Mrs. Crummies was so ner-
vous that she could hardly remember her part. Miss Bra-
vassa's ringlets came out of curl with the heat and anxiety ;
even Mr. Crummies himself kept peeping through the hole in
the curtain, and running back, every now and then, to announce
that another man had come into the pit.
At last, the orchestra left off, and the curtain rose upon
the new joiece. The first scene, in which there was nobody
particular, passed off calmly enough, but when Miss Snevel-
licci went on in the second, accompanied by the phenomenon
as child, what a roar of applause broke out ! The people in
the Borum box rose as one man, waving their hats and hand-
kerchiefs, and uttering shouts of " Bravo ! " Mrs. Borum and
the governess cast wreaths upon the stage, of which, some
fluttered into the lamps, and one crowned the temples of a fat
gentleman in the pit, who, looking eagerly towards the scene,
remained unconscious of the honor; the tailor and his family
kicked at the panels of the upper boxes till they threatened
to come out altogether ; the xevy ginger-beer boy remained
transfixed in the centre of the house ; a young officer, supposed
to entertain a passion for Miss Snevellicci, stuck his glass in
3i6
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
his eye as though to hide a tear. Again and again Miss Snev-
ellicci, curtseyed lower and lower, and again and again the
applause came down, louder and louder. At length, when the
phenomenon picked up one of the smoking wreaths and put
it on, sideways, over Miss Snevellicci's eye, it reached its cli-
max, and the play proceeded.
But when Nicholas came on for his crack scene with Mrs.
Crummies, what a clapping of hands there was ! When Mrs.
Crummies (who was his unworthy mother), sneered and called
him " presumptuous boy," and he defied her, what a tumult
of applause came on ! When he quarrelled with the other
gentleman about the young lady, and producing a case of pis-
tols, said that if he was a gentleman, he would fight him in
that drawing-room, until the furniture was sprmkled with the
blood of one, if not of two— how boxes, pit, and gallery, joined
in one most vigorous cheer! When he called his mother
names, because she wouldn't give up the young lady's property,
and she relenting, caused him to relent likewise, and fall down
on one knee and ask her blessing, how the ladies in the audi-
ence sobbed ! When he was hid behind the curtam in the
dark, and the wicked relation poked a sharp sword in every
direction, save where his legs were plamly visible, what a thrill
of anxious fear ran through the house ! His air, his figure,
his walk, his look, everything he said or did, was the subject
of commendation. There was a round of applause every time
he spoke. And when, at last, in the pump-and-tub scene, Mrs.
Grudden lighted the blue fire, and all the unemployed mem-
bers of the company came in, and tumbled clown in various
directions — not because that had anything to do with the plot,
but in order to finish off with a tableau — the audience (who
had by this time increased considerably) gave vent to such a
shout of enthusiasm, as had not been heard in those walls for
many and many a day.
In short, the success both of new piece and new actor
was complete, and when Miss Snevellicci was called for at the
end of the play, Nicholas led her on, and divided the ap-
plause.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
317
CHAPTER XXV.
CONCERNING A YOUNG LADY FROM LONDON, WHO JOINS THE
COMPANY, AND AN ELDERLY ADMIRER WHO FOLLOWS IN HER
TRAIN ; WITH AN AFFECTING CEREMONY CONSEQUENT ON
THEIR ARRIVAL.
The new piece being a decided hit, was announced for
every evening of performance until further notice, and the
evenings when the theatre was closed, were reduced from three
in the week to two. Nor were these the only tokens of extra-
ordinary success ; for, on the succeeding Saturday, Nicholas
received, by favor of the indefatigable Mrs. Grudden, no less
a sum than thirty shillings ; besides which substantial reward,
he enjoyed considerable fame and honor : having a presenta-
tion copy of Mr. Curdle's pamphlet forwarded to the theatre,
with that gentleman's own autograph (in itself an inestimable
treasure) on the fly-leaf, accompanied with a note, containing
many expressions o£ approval, and an unsolicited assurance
that Mr. Curdle would be very happy to read Shakspeare to
him for three hours every morning before breakfast during his
stay in the town.
" I've got another novelty, Johnson," said Mr. Crummies
one morning in great glee.
" What's that ? " rejoined Nicholas. " The pony ? "
" No, no, we never come to the pony till everything else
has failed," said Mr. Crummies. " I don't think we shall
come to the pony at all, this season. No, no, not the
pony."
" A boy phenomenon, perhaps ? " suggested Nicholas.
" There is only one phenomenon, sir," replied Mr. Crumm-
ies impressively, "and that's a girl."
" Very true," said Nicholas. "• I beg your pardon. Then
I don't know what it is, I am sure."
" What should you say to a young lady from London .? "
inquired Mr. Crummies. " Miss So-and-so, of the Theatre
Royal, Drury I.ane ? "
" I should say she would look very well in the bills," said
Nicholas.
3^8
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" You're about right there," said Mr. Crummies ; " and if
you had said she would look very well upon the stage too, you
wouldn't have been far out. Look here ; what do you think
of this .? "
With this inquiry Mr. Crummies unfolded a red poster,
and a blue poster, and a yellow poster, at the top of each of
which public notification was inscribed in enormous characters
" First appearance of the unrivalled Miss Petowker of the
Theatre Royal, Drury oane ! "
" Dear me ! " said Nicholas, " I know that lady."
" Then you are acquainted with as much talent as was ever
compressed into one young person's body," retorted Mr.
Crummies, rolling up the bills again ; " that is, talent of a cer-
tain sort — of a certain sort. ' The Blood Drinker,' " added
Mr. Crummies with a prophetic sigh, " ' The Blood Drinker '
will die with that girl ; and she's the only sylph / ever saw,
who could stand upon one leg, and play the tambourine on
her other knee like a sylph."
"When does she come down? " asked Nicholas.
" We expect her to-day," replied Mr. Crummies. " She
is an old friend of J\lrs. Crummles's. Mrs. Crummies saw
what she could do — always knew it from the first. She taught
her, indeed, nearly all she knows. Mrs. Crummies was the
original Blood Drinker."
" Was she, indeed ? "
" Yes. She was obliged to give it up though."
" Did it disagree with her .'' " asked Nicholas.
"Not so much with her, as with her audiences," replied
Mr. Crummies. " Nobody could stand it. It was too tre-
mendous. You don't quite know what Mrs. Crummies is,
yet."
Nicholas ventured to insinuate that he thought he did.
" No, no, you don't," said Mr. Crummies ; "you don't in-
deed, /don't, and that's a fact. I don't think her country
will, till she is dead. Some new proof of talent bursts from
that astonishing woman every year of her life. Look at her,
mother of six children, three of 'em alive, and all upon the
stage ! "
" Extraordinary ! " cried Nicholas.
" Ah ! extraordinary indeed," rejoined Mr. Crummies,
taking a complacent pinch of snufF, and shaking his, head
gravely. " I i)led'j,c you my professional word 1 didn't even
know she could tlance, till her last benefit, and tlieii she played
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 3 ig
Juliet, and Helen Macgregor, and did the skipping-rope horn-
pipe between the pieces. The very first time I saw that
admirable woman, Johnson," said Mr. Crummies, drawing a
little nearer, and speaking in the tone of confidential friend-
ship, " she stood upon her head on the butt-end of a spear,
surrounded with blazing fireworks."
"You astonish me ! " said Nicholas.
" 67/1? astonished 771 e ! " returned Mr. Crummies, with a very
serious countenance. " Such grace, coupled with such dignity !
I adored her from that moment ! "
The arrival of the gifted subject of these remarks put an
abrupt termination to Mr. Crummles's eulogium. Almost im-
mediately afterwards. Master Percy Crummies entered with a
letter, which had arrived by the General Post, and was directed
to his gracious mother ; at sight of the superscription where-
of, Mrs. Crummies exclaimed, " From Henrietta Petowker, I
do declare ! " and instantlv became absorbed in the contents.
" Is it — ?" inquired Mr. Crummies, hesitating.
"Oh, yes, it's all right," replied Mrs. Crummies, anticipa-
ting the question. "What an excellent thing for her, to be
sure ! "
" It's the best thing altogether, that I ever heard of, I
think," said Mr. Crummies ; and then Mr. Crummies, Mrs.
Crummies, and Master Percy Crummies, all fell to laugh-
ing violently. Nicholas left them to enjoy their mirth to-
gether, and walked to his lodgings ; wondering very much
what mystery connected with Miss Petowker could provoke
such merriment, and pondering still more on the extreme sur-
prise with which thar lady would regard his sudden enlistment
in a profession of which she w^as such a distinguished and
brilliant ornament.
But, in this latter respect he was mistaken ; for — whether
Mr. Vincent Crummies had paved the wa3% or Miss Petowker
had some special reason for treating him with even more than
her usual amiability — their meeting at the theatre next day
was more like that of two dear friends who had been insepara-
ble from infancy, than a recognition passing between a lady
and gentleman who had only met some half dozen times, and
then by mere chance. Nay, Miss Petowker e\"en whispered
that she had wholly dropped the Kenwigses in her conversa-
tions with the manager's family, and had represented herself
as having encountered Mr. Johnson in the very first and most
fashionable circles ; and on Nicholas receiving this intelligence
,20 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
with unfeigned surprise, she added, with a sweet glance, that
she had a claim on his good nature now, and might tax it be-
fore long.
Nicholas had the honor of playing in a slight piece with
Miss Petowker that night, and could not but observe that
the warmth of her reception was mainly attributable to a most
persevering umbrella in the upper boxes ; he saw, too, that
the enchanting actress cast many sweet looks towards the
quarter whence these sounds proceeded ; and that every time
she did so, the umbrella broke out afresh. Once, he thought
that a peculiarly shaped hat in the same corner was not wholly
unknown to him ; but, being occupied with his share of the
stage business, he bestowed no great attention upon this cir-
cuinstance, and it had quite vanished from his memory by the
time he reached home.
He had just sat down to supper with Smike, when one of
the people of the house came outside the door, and announced
that a gentleman below stairs wished to speak to Mr. Johnson,
" Well, if he does, you must tell him to come up ; that's
all I know," replied Nicholas. " One of our hungry brethren,
I suppose, Smike."
His fellow-lodger looked at the cold meat in silent calcula-
tion of the quantity that would be left for dinner next day, and
put back a slice he had cut for himself, in order that the \ isit-
or's encroachments might be less formidable in their effects.
'■It is not anybody who has been here before," said
Nicholas, " for he is tumbling up every stair. Come in, come
in. In the name of wonder ! Mr. Lillyvick ? "
It was, indeed, the collector of water-rates who, regarding
Nicholas, with a fixed look and immovable countenance,
shook hands with most portentous solemnity, and sat himself
down in a seat by the chimney-corner.
" Why, when did you come here ? " asked Nicholas
"This morning, sir," replied Mr. Lillyvick.
" Oh ! I see ; then you were at the theatre to-night, and it
was your umb "
"This umbrella," said Mr. Lillyvick, producing a fat green
cotton one with a battered ferrule. " What did you think of
that performance ? "
"So far as I could judge, being on the stage," replied
Nicholas, " I thought it very agreeable."
"Agreeable ! " cried the collector. "I mean to say, sir,
that it was delicious."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
-^21
Mr. Lillyvick bent forward to pronounce the last word
with greater emphasis ; and having done so, drew himself up,
and frowned and nodded a great many times.
"I say, delicious," repeated Mr. Lillyvick. "Absorbing,
fairy-like, toomultuous," and again Mr. Lillyvick drew himself
up, and again he frowned and nodded.
"Ah!" said Nicholas, a little surprised at these symp-
toms of ecstatic approbation. " Yes, she is a clever girl."
" She is a divinity," returned Mr. Lillyvick, giving a col-
lector's double knock on the ground with the umbrella before-
mentioned. "I have known divine actresses before now, sir;
I used to collect — at least I used to call for — and very often
call for — the water-rate at the house of a divine actress, who
lived in my beat for upwards of four year, but never — no,
never, sir — of all divine creatures, actresses or no actresses,
did I see a diviner one than is Henrietta Petowker."
Nicholas had much ado to prevent himself from laughing ;
not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded in accord-
ance with Mr. Lillyvick's nods, and remained silent.
" Let me speak a word with you in private," said Mr.
Lillyvick.
Nicholas looked good-humoredly at Smike, who, taking
the hint, disappeared.
" A bachelor is a miserable wretch, sir," said Mr. Lillyvick.
" Is he ? " asked Nicholas.
"He is," rejoined the collector. " I have lived in the
world for nigh si.xty year, and I ought to know what it is."
" You ought to know, certainlj^," thought Nicholas ; " but
whether you do or not, is another question."
" If a bachelor happens to have saved a little matter of
money," said Mr. Lillyvick, " his sisters and brothers, and
nephews and nieces, look to that money, and not to him ;
even if, by being a public character, he is the head of the
family, or, as it may be, the main from which all the other
little branches are turned on, they still wish him dead all the
while, and get low-spirited every time they see him looking in
good health, because they want to come into his little prop-'
ert}\ You see that ? "
" Oh, yes," replied Nicholas : " it's very true, no doubt."
" The great reason for not being married," resumed Mr.
Lillyvick, " is the expense ; that's what's kept me off, or else
— Lord ! " said Mr. Lillyvick, snapping his fingers, '* I might
have had fifty women."
21
32 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Fine women ? " asked Nicholas.
" Fine women, sir ! " replied the collector ; " ay ! not so
fine as Henrietta Petowker, for she is an uncommon speci-
men, but such women as don't fall into every man's way, I
can tell you. Now suppose a man can get a fortune in a wife
instead of with her — eh ? "
" Why, then, he's a lucky fellow," replied Nicholas.
"That's what I say," retorted the collector, patting him
benignantly on the side of the head with his umbrella ; " just
what I say. Henrietta Petowker, the talented Henrietta
Petowker has a fortune in herself, and I am going to "
"To make her Mrs. Lillyvick ? " suggested Nicholas.
" No, sir, not to make her Mrs. Lillyvick," replied the
collector. " Actresses, sir, always keep their maiden names
— that's the regular thing — but Fm going to marry her ; and
the day after to-morrow, too."
" I congratulate you, sir," said Nicholas.
"Thank you, sir," replied the collector, buttoning his
waistcoat. " I shall draw her salary, of course, and I hope
after all that it's nearly as cheap to keep two as it is to keep
one ; that's a consolation."
" Surely you don't want any consolation at such a mo-
ment ? " observed Nicholas.
" No," replied Mr. Lillyvick, shaking his head nervously:
" no — of course not."
" But how come you both here, if you're going to be mar-
ried, Mr. Lillyvick?" asked Nicholas.
"Why, that's what I came to explain to you," replied the
collector of water-rate. " The fact is, we have thought it
best to keep it secret from the family."
" Family ! " said Nicholas. " What family ? "
"The Kenwigses of course," rejoined Mr. Lillyvick. "If
my niece and the children had known a word about it before
I came away, they'd have gone into fits at my feet, and never
have come out of 'em till I took an oath not to marry any-
body. Or they'd have got out a commission of lunacy, or
some dreadful thing," said the collector, quite trembling as he
spoke.
"To be sure," said Nicholas. "Yes; they would have
been jealous, no doubt."
" To prevent which," said Mr. Lillyvick, " Henrietta Pe-
towker (it was settled between us) should come down here to
her friends, the Crummleses, under pretence of this engage-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
323
ment, and I should go down to Guildford the day before, and
join her on the coach there ; which I did, and we came down
from Guildford yesterday together. Now, for fear you should
be writing to Mr. Noggs, and might say anything about us,
we have thought it best to let you into the secret. We shall
be married from the Crummleses' lodgings, and shall be de-
lighted to see you — either before church or at breakfast-time,
which you like. It won't be expensive, you know,"' said the
collector, highly anxious to prevent any misunderstanding on
•this point ; "just muffins and coffee, with perhaps a shrimp
or something of that sort for a relish, you know."
" Yes, yes, I understand," replied Nicholas. " Oh, I shall
be most happy to come ; it will give me the greatest pleasure.
Where's the lady stopping ? With Mrs. Crummies ? "
"Why, no," said the collector; " they couldn't very well
dispose of her at night, and so she is staying with an acquaint-
ance of hers, and another young lady ; they both belong to
the theatre."
" Miss Snevellicci, I suppose ? " said Nicholas.
" Yes, that's the name."
" And they'll be bridesmaids, I presume ? " said Nicholas.
" Why," said the collector, with a rueful face, "they will
have four bridesmaids. I'm afraid they'll make it rather theat-
rical."
" Oh no, not at all," replied Nicholas, with an awkward
attempt to convert a laugh into a cough. "Who may the four
be ? Miss Snevellicci of course — Miss Ledrook "
" The — the phenomenon," groaned the collector.
" Ha, ha ! " cried Nicholas. " I beg your pardon, I don't
know what I'm laughing at — yes, that'll be very pretty — the
phenomenon — who else .'' "
" Some young woman or other," replied the collector,
rising ; " some other friend of Henrietta Petowker's. Well,
you'll be careful not to say anything about it, will you } "
" You may safely depend upon me," replied Nicholas.
*' Won't you take anything to eat or drink ? "
" No," said the collector ; " I haven't any appetite. I
should think it was a very pleasant life, the married one, eh ? "
" I have not the least doubt of it," rejoined Nicholas.
" Yes," said the collector ; " certainly. Oh yes. No
doubt. Good-night."
With these words, Mr. Lillyvick, whose manner had ex-
hibited through the whole of this interview a most extraordinary
324 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
compound of precipitation, hesitation, confidence and doubt,
fondness, misgiving, meanness, and self-importance, turned liis
baclv upon the room, and left Nicholas to enjoy a laugh by
himself if he felt so disposed.
Without stopping to inquire whether the intervening day
appeared to Nicholas to consist of the usual number of hours
of the ordinary length, it may be remarked that, to the parties
more directly interested in the forthcoming ceremony, it passed
with great rapidity, insomuch that when Miss Petowker awoke
on the succeeding morning in the chamber of Miss Snevellicci,
she declared that nothing should ever persuade her that that
really was the day which was to behold a change in her condi-
tion.
" I never will believe it," said Miss Petowker ; " I cannot
really. It's of no use talking, I never can make up my mind
to go through with such a trial ! "
On hearing this. Miss Snevellicci and Miss Ledrook, who
knew perfectly well that their fair friend's mind had been
made up for three or four years, at any period of which time
she would have cheerfully undergone the desperate trial now
approaching if she could have found any eligible gentleman
disposed for the venture, began to preach comfort and firm-
ness, and to say how very proud she ought to feel that it was
in her power to confer lasting bliss on a deserving object, and
how necessary it was for the happiness of mankind in general
that women should possess fortitude and resignation on such
occasions ; and that although for their parts they held true
happiness to consist in a single life, which thev would not will-
ingly exchange — no, not for any worldl)' consideration — still
(thank Heaven), if ever the time should come, they hoped they
knew their duty too well to repine, but would the rather sub-
mit with meekness and humility of spirit to a fate for wliich
Providence had clearly designed them with a view to the con-
tentment and reward of their fellow-creatures.
" I might feel it was a great blow," said Miss Snevellicci,
" to break up old associations and what-do-you-callems of that
kind, but I would submit my dear, I would indeed."
" So would I," said Miss Ledrook ; " I would rather court
the yoke than shun it. I have broken hearts before now, and
I'm very sorry for it. It's a terrible thing to reflect upon."
" It is indeed," said Miss Snevellicci. " Now Led, my
dear, we must positively get her ready, or we shall be too late,
we shall indeed."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 325
This pious reasoning, and perhaps the fear of being too late,
supported the bride through the ceremony of robing, after
which, strong tea and brandv were administered in alternate
doses as a means of strengthening her feeble limbs and caus-
ing her to walk steadier.
" How do you feel now, my love ? " inquired Miss Snevel-
licci.
" Oh Lilly vick !." cried the bride. " If you knew what I
am undergoing for you ! "
" Of course he knows it, love, and will never forget it,"
said Miss Ledrook.
" Do you think he won't ? " cried Miss Petowker, really
showing great capability for the stage. " Oh, do you think he
won't .'' Do you think Lillyvick will always remember it —
always, alwa}'S, always .'' "
There is no knowing in what this burst of feeling might
have ended, if Miss Snevellicci had not at that moment pro-
claimed the arrival of the fly, which so astounded the bride
that she shook off divers alarming symptoms which were com-
ing on very strong, and running to the glass adjusted her dress,
and calmly declared that she was ready for the sacrifice.
She was accordingly supported into the coach, and there
" kept up " (as Miss Snevellicci said) with perpetual sniffs of
sa/ volatile and sips of brandy and other gentle stimulants,
until they reached the manager's door, which was already
opened by the two Master Crummleses, who wore white cock-
ades, and were decorated with the choicest and most resplend-
ent waistcoats in the theatrical v/ardrobe. By the combined ex-
ertions of these young gentlemen and the bridesmaids, assisted
by the coachman. Miss Petowker was at length supported in a
condition of much exhaustion to the first floor, where she no
sooner encountered the youthful bridegroom than she fainted
with great decorum.
" Henrietta Petowker ! " said the collector ; " cheer up, my
lovely one."
Miss Petowker grasped the collector's hand, but emotion
choked her utterance.
" Is the sight of me so dreadful, Henrietta Petowker ? "
said the collector.
" Oh no, no, no," rejoined the bride ; "but all the friends,
the darling friends, of my youthful days — to leave them all —
it is such a shock ! "
With such expressions of sorrow, Miss Petowker went on
,26 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
to enumerate the dear friends of her youthful days one by
one, and to call upon such of them as were present to come
and embrace her. This done, she remembered that Mrs.
Crummies had been more than a mother to her, and after that,
that Mr. Crummies had been more than a father to her, and
after that, that the Master Crummleses and Miss Ninetta
Crummies had been more than brothers and sisters to her.
These various remembrances being each accompanied with
a series of hugs, occupied a long time, and they were obliged
to drive to church very fast, for fear they should be too late.
The procession consisted of two flys ; in the first of which
were Miss Bravassa (the fourth bridesmaid), Mrs. Crummies,
the collector, and Mr. Folair, who had been chosen as his
second on the occasion. In the other were the bride, Mr.
Crummies, Miss Snevellicci, Miss Ledrook, and the phenome-
non. The costumes were beautiful. The bridesmaids were
quite covered with artificial flowers, and the phenomenon, in
particular, was rendered almost invisible by the portable
arbor in which she was enshrined. Miss Ledrook, who was
of a romantic turn, wore in her breast the miniature of some
field-officer unknown, which she had purchased, a great bar-
gain, not very long before ; the other ladies displayed several
dazzling articles of imitative jewellery, almost equal to real ;
and Mrs. Crummies came out in a stern and gloomy majesty,
which attracted the admiration of all beholders.
But, perhaps the appearance of Mr. Crummies was more
striking and appropriate than that of any member of the party.
This gentleman, who personated the bride's father, had, in
pursuance of a happy and original conception, " made up "
for the part by arraying himself in a theatrical wig, of a style
and pattern commonly known as a brown George, and more-
over assuming a snuff-colored suit, of the previous century,
with gray silk stockings, and buckles to his shoes. The bet-
ter to support his assumed character he had determined to
be greatly overcome, and, consequently, when they entered
the church, the sobs of the affectionate parent were so heart-
rending that the pew-opener suggested the propriety of his
retiring to the vestry, and comforting himself with a glass of
water before the ceremony began.
The procession up the aisle was beautiful. The bride,
with the four bridesmaids, forming a group previously arranged
and rehearsed ; the collector, followed by his second, imita-
ting his walk and gestures, to the indescribable amusement of
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
327
some theatrical friends in the gallery ; Mr. Crummies, with
an infirm and feeble gait ; Mrs. Crummies advancing with
that stage walk, which consists of a stride and a stop alter-
nately ; it was the completest thing ever witnessed. The
ceremony was very quickly disposed of, and all parties pres-
ent having signed the register (for which purpose, when it
came to his turn, Mr. Crummies carefully wiped and put on
an immense pair of spectacles), they went back to breakfast
in high spirits. And here they found Nicholas awaiting their
arrival.
" Now then," said Crummies, who had been assisting Mrs.
Grudden in the preparations, which were on a more extensive
scale than was quite agreeable to the collector. " Breakfast,
breakfast."
No second invitation was required. The company crowded
and squeezed themselves at the table as well as they could,
and fell to, immediately : Miss Petowker blushing very much
when anybody was looking, and eating ver}^ much when any-
body was not looking ; and Mr. Lillyvick going to work as
though with the cool resolve, that since the good things
must be paid for by him, he would leave as little as possible
for the Crummleses to eat up afterwards.
" It's ver}' soon done, sir, isn't it ? " inquired Mr. Folair
of the collector, leaning over the table to address him.
" What is soon done, sir ? " returned Mr. Lillyvick.
"The tying up, the fixing oneself with a wife," replied
Mr. Folair. " It don't take long, does it ? "
"No, sir," replied Mr. Lillyvick, coloring. "It does not
take long. And what then, sir ? "
" Oh ! nothing," said the actor. " It don't take a man
long to hang himself, either, eh 1 Ha, ha ! "
Mr. Lillyvick laid down his knife and fork, and looked
round the table with indignant astonishment.
" To hang himself ! " repeated Mr. Lillyvick.
A profound silence came upon all, for Mr. Lilly\'ick was
dignified beyond expression.
" To hang himself ! " cried Mr. Lillj^dck again. " Is any
parallel attempted to be drawn in this company between
matrimony and hanging ? "
" The noose, you know," said Mr. Folair, a little crest-
fallen.
"The noose, sir?" retorted Mr. Lillyvick. "Does any
man dare to speak to me of a noose, and Henrietta Pe "
328
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Lillyvick," suggested Mr. Crummies.
— " and Henrietta Lillyvick in the same breath ? " said the
collector. " In this house, in the presence of Mr. and Mrs.
Crummies, who have brought up a talented and virtuous
family, to be blessings and phenomenons, and what not, are
we to hear talk of nooses ? "
" Folair," said Mr. Crummies, deeming it a matter of
decency to be affected by this allusion to himself and partner,
"I'm astonished at you."
" What are you going on in this way at me for? " urged
the unfortunate actor. " What have I done ? "
" Done, sir ! " cried Mr. Lillyvick, " aimed a blow at the
whole framework of society — "
" And the best and tenderest feelings," added Crummies,
relapsing into the old man.
" And the highest and most estimable of social ties," said
the collector. " Noose ! As if one was caught, trapped, into
the married state, pinned by the leg, instead of going into it
of one's own accord and glor\'ing in the act ! "
" I didn't mean to make it out, that you were caught and
trapped, and pinned by the leg," replied the actor. " I'm
sorry for it ; I can't say any more."
" So you ought to be, sir," returned Mr. Lillyvick ; " and
I am glad to hear that you have enough of feeling left to be
so."
The quarrel appearing to terminate with this reply, Mrs.
Lillyvick considered that the fittest occasion (the attention of
the company being no longer distracted) to burst into tears,
and require the assistance of all four bridesmaids, which was
immediately rendered, though not without some confusion,
for the room being small and the table-cloth long, a whole
detachment of plates were swept off the board at the very
first move. Regardless of this circumstance, however, Mrs.
Lillyvick refused to be comforted until the belligerents had
passed their words that the dispute should be carried no
further, which, after a sufficient show of reluctance, they did,
and from that time Mr. Folair sat in moody silence, content-
ing himself with pinching Nicholas's leg when anything was
said, and so expressing his contempt both for the speaker and
the sentiments to which he gave utterance.
There were a great number of speeches made ; some by
Nicholas, and some by Crummies, and some by the collector ;
two by the master Crummleses in returning thanks for them-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 329
selves, and one by the phenomenon on behalf of the brides-
maids, at which Mrs. Crummies shed tears. There was some
singing, too, from Miss I>edrook and Miss Bravassa, and very-
likely there might ha\"e been more, if the fly-driver, who
stopped to drive the happy pair to the spot where they pro-
posed to take steamboat to Ryde, had not sent in a peremp-
tory message intimating, that if they didn't come directly he
should infallibly demand eighteen-pence over and above his
agreement.
This desperate threat effectually broke up the part}\
After a most pathetic leave-taking, Mr. Lillyvick and his bride
departed for Ryde, where they were to spend the next two
days in profound retirement, and whither they were accom-
panied by the infant, who had been appointed travelling
bridesmaid on Mr. Lillyvick's express stipulation : as the
steamboat people, deceived by her size, would (he had pre-
viously ascertained) transport her at half-price.
As there was no performance that night, Mr. Crummies
declared his intention of keeping it up till everything to drink
was disposed of ; but Nicholas having to play Romeo for the
first time on the ensuing evening, contrived to slip away in
the midst of a temporary confusion, occasioned by the unex-
pected development of strong symptoms of inebriety in the
conduct of Ivlrs. Grudden.
To this act of desertion he was led, not only by his own
inclinations, but by his anxiety on account of Smike, who,
having to sustain the character of the Apothecary, had been
as yet wholly unable to get any more of the part into his head
than the general idea that he was very hungry, which — per-
haps from old recollections — he had acquired with great apti-
tude.
" I don't know what's to be done, Smike," said Nicholas,
laying down the book. " I am afraid you can't learn it, my
poor fellow."
" I am afraid not " said Smike, shaking his head. " I
think if you — but that would give you so much trouble."
" What ? " inquired Nicholas. "Never mind me."
" I think," said Smike, " if you were to keep saying it to
me in little bits, over and over again, I should be able to
recollect it from hearing you."
" Do you think so!" exclaimed Nicholas. "Well said.
Let us see who tires first. Not I, Smike, trust me. Now then,
' Who calls so loud t ' "
330 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" 'Who calls so loud ? ' " said Smike.
" ' Who calls so loud ? ' " repeated Nicholas.
" ' Who calls so loud ? ' " cried Smike.
Thus they continued to ask each other who called so loud,
over and over again; and when Smike had that by heart,
Nicholas went to another sentence, and then to two at a
time, and then to three, and so on, until at midnight poor
Smike found to his unspeakable joy that he really began to
remember something about the text.
Early in the morning they went to it again, and Smike,
rendered more confident by the progress he had already
made, got on faster and with better heart. As soon as he be-
gan to acquire the words pretty freely, Nicholas showed him
how he must come in with both hands spread out upon his
stomach, and how he must occasionally rub it, in compliance
with the established form by which people on the stage always
denote that ther want something to eat. After the morning's
rehearsal they went to work again, nor did they stop, except
for a hasty dinner, until it was time to repair to the theatre
at night.
Never had master a more anxious, humble, docile pupil.
Never had pupil a more patient, unwear}dng, considerate kind-
hearted master.
As soon as they were dressed, and at every interval when
he was not upon the stage, Nicholas renewed his instructions.
They prospered well. The Romeo was received with hearty
plaudits and unbounded favor, and Smike was pronounced
unanimously, alike by audience and actors, the very prince
and prodigy of Apothecaries.
CHAPTER XXVI.
IS FRAUGHT WITH SOME DANGER TO MISS NICKLEBY'S PEACE
OF MIND.
The place was a handsome suit of private apartments in
Regent Street ; the time was three o'clock in the afternoon to
the dull and plodding, and the first hour of morning to the gay
and spirited ; the persons were Lord Frederick Verisopht, and
his friend Sir Mulberry Hawk.
These distinguished gentlemen were reclining listlessly on a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 33 1
couple of sofas, with a table between them, on which were
scattered in rich confusion the materials of an untasted break-
fast. Newspapers lay strewn about the room, but these, like
the meal, were neglected and unnoticed ] not, however, be-
cause any flow of conversation prevented the attractions of
the journals from being called into request, for not a word
was exchanged between the two, nor was any sound uttered,
save when one, in tossing about to find an easier resting-place
for his aching head, uttered an exclamation of impatience,
and seemed for the moment to communicate a new restlessness
to his companion.
These apjoearances would in themselves have furnished a
pretty strong clue to the extent of the debauch of the previous
night, even if there had not been other indications of the
amusements in which it has been passed. A couple of billiard
balls, all mud and dirt, two battered hats, a champagne bottle
with a soiled glove twisted round the neck, to allow of its be-
ing grasped more surely in its capacity of an ofifensive weapon ;
a broken cane ; a card-case without the top ; an empty purse ;
a watch-guard snapped asunder ; a handful of silver, mingled
with fragments of half-smoked cigars, and their stale and
crumbled ashes ; these, and many other tokens of riot and
disorder, hinted very intelligibly at the nature of last night's
gentlemanly frolics.
Lord Frederick Verisopht was the first to speak. Dropping
his slippered foot on the ground, and, yawning heavily, he
struggled into a sitting posture, and turned his dull languid
eyes towards his friend, to whom he called in a drowsy voice.
" Hallo ! " replied Sir Mulberry, turning round.
"Are we going to Tie here all da-a-y ? " said the lord.
" I don't know that we're fit for anything else," replied Sir
Mulberry ; " yet awhile, at least. I haven't a grain of life in
me this morning."
'* Life ! " cried Lord Frederick. " I feel as if there would
be nothing so snug and comfortable as to die at once."
" Then why don't you die ? " said Sir Mulberry.
With which inquiry he turned his face away, and seemed
to occupy himself in an attempt to fall asleep.
His hopeful friend and pupil drew a chair to the breakfast
table, and essayed to eat ; but, finding that impossible, lounged
to the window, then loitered up and down the room with his
hand to his fevered head, and finally threw himself again on
his sofa, and roused his friend once more.
332 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" What the devil's the matter?" groaned Sir Mulberry,
sitting upright on the couch.
Although Sir Mulberry said this with sufficient ill-humor,
he did not seem to feel himself quite at liberty to remain si-
lent ; for after stretching himself very often, and declaring
with a shiver that it was "infernal cold," he made an experi-
ment at the breakfast table, and proving more successful than
his less-seasoned friend, remained there.
" Suppose," said Sir Mulberry, pausing with a morsel on
the point of the fork, " Suppose we go back to the subject of
little Nickleby, eh ? "
" Which little Nickleby ; the money-lender or the ga-a-1 .? "
asked Lord Frederick.
"You take me, I see," replied Sir Mulberry. "The girl,
of course."
"You promised me you'd find her out," said Lord Fred-
erick.
" So I did," rejoined his friend ; "but I have thought fur-
ther of the matter since then. You distrust me in the busi-
ness— you shall find her out yourself."
" Na-ay," remonstrated the other.
" But I say yes," returned his friend. "You shall find
her out yourself. Don't think that I mean, when you can — I
know as well as you that if I did, you could never get sight of
her without me. No. I say you shall find her out — shall —
and I'll put you in the way."
" Now curse me, if you ain't a real, devylish, downright,
thorough-paced friend," said the young lord, on whom this
speech had produced a most reviving effect.
" I'll tell you how," said Mulberry. " She was at that
dinner as a bait for you."
" No ! " cried the young lord. " What the dev "
"As a bait for you," repeated his friend; "old Nickleby
told me so himself."
>Vhat a fine old cock it is ! " exclaimed Lord Frederick;
" a noble rascal ! "
"Yes," said Sir Mulberry, "he knew she was a smart
little creature "
" Smart ! " interposed the young lord. " Upon my soul.
Hawk, she's a perfect beauty — a — a picture, a statue, a — a —
upon my soul she is ! "
"Well," replied Sir Mulberry, shrugging his shoulders
and manifesting an indifference, whether he felt it or not ;
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 333
"that's a matter of taste; if mine doesn't agree with yours,
so much the better."
" Confound it ! " reasoned the lord, " you were thick
enough with her that day, anyhow. I could hardly get in a
word."
"Well enough for once, well enough for once," replied Sir
Mulberry ; " but not worth the trouble of being agreeable to
again. If you seriously want to follow up the niece, tell the
uncle that you must know where she lives and how she lives,
and with whom, or you are no longer a customer of his.
He'll tell you fast enough."
" Why didn't you say this before ? " asked Lord Frederick,
" instead of letting me go on burning, consuming, dragging
out a miserable existence for an a-aa:e ! "
" I didn't know it, in the first place," answered Sir Mulberr}'-
carelessly ; " and in the second, I didn't believe you were so
very much in earnest."
Now, the truth was, that in the interval which had
elapsed since the dinner at Ralph Nickleby's, Sir Mulberry
Hawk had been furtively trying by every means in his power
to discover whence Kate had so suddenly appeared, and
whither she had disappeared. Unassisted by Ralph, how-
ever, with whom he had held no communication since their
angry parting on that occasion, all his efforts were wholly
unavailing, and he had therefore arrived at the determination
of communicating to the young lord the substance of the ad-
mission he had gleaned from that worthy. To this he was
impelled by various considerations ; among which the cer-
tainty of knowing whatever the weak young man knew was
decidedly not the least, as the desire of encountering the
usurer's niece again, and using his utmost arts to reduce her
pride, and revenge himself for her contempt, was uppermost
in his thoughts. It was a politic course of proceeding, and
one which could not fail to redound to his advantage in every
point of view, since the very circumstance of his having ex-
torted from Ralph Nickleby his real design in introducing his
niece to such society, coupled with his extreme disinterested-
ness in communicating it so freely to his friend, could not but
advance his interests in that quarter, and greatlv facilitate the
passage of coin (pretty frequent and speedy alreadv) from
the pockets of Lord Frederick Verisopht to those of Sir Mul-
berry Hawk.
Thus reasoned Sir Mulberr}-, and in pursuance of this
3A4
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
reasoning he and his friend soon afterwards repaired to Ralph
Nickleby's, there to execute a plan of operations concerted by
Sir Mulberry himself, avowedly to promote his friend's object,
and really to attain his own.
They found Ralph at home, and alone. As he led them
into the drawing-room, the recollection of the scene which
had taken place there seemed to occur to him, for he cast a
curious look at Sir Mulberry, who bestowed upon it no other
acknowledgment than a careless smile.
They had a short conference upon some money matters
then in progress, which were scarcely disposed of when the
lordly dupe (in pursuance of his friend's instructions) re-
quested with some embarrassment to speak to Ralph alone.
" Alone, eh ? " cried Sir Mulberry, affecting surprise.
" Oh, very good. I'll walk into the next room here. Don't
keep me long, that's all."
So saying, Sir Mulberry took up his hat, and humming a
fragment of a song disappeared through the door of com-
munication between the two drawing-rooms, and closed it
after him.
" Now, my lord," said Ralph, "what is it ?"
" Nickleby," said his client, throwing himself along the
sofa on which he had been previously seated, so as to bring
his lips nearer to the old man's ear, " what a pretty creature
your niece is ! "
" Is she, my lord ? " replied Ralph. " Maybe — maybe. I
don't trouble my head with such matters."
"You know she's a deyv'lish fine girl," said the client.
" You must know that, Nickleby. Come, don't deny that."
" Yes, I believe she is considered so," replied Ralph.
" Indeed, I know she is. If I did not, you are an authority
on such points, and your taste, my lord — on all points, indeed
— is undeniable."
Nobody but the young man to whom these words were
addressed could have been deaf to the sneering tone in which
they were spoken, or blind to the look of contempt by which
they were accompanied. But Lord Frederick Verisopht was
both, and took them to be complimentar}'.
" Well," he said, " p'raps you're a little right, and p'raps
you're a little wrong — a little of both, Nickleby. I want to
know where this beauty lives, that I may have another peep
at her, Nickleby."
" Really " Ralph began in his usual tones.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 335
" Don't talk so loud," cried the other, achieving the great
point of his lesson to a miracle. "I don't want Hawk to
hear."
" You know he is your rival, do you ? " said Ralph, look-
ing sharply at him.
" He always is, d-a-amn him," replied the client ; " and I
want to steal a march upon him. Ha, ha, ha ! He'll cut up
so rough, Nickleby, at our talking together without him.
Where does she live, Nickleby, that's all ? Only tell me
where she lives, Nickleby."
" He bites," thought Ralph. " He bites."
" Eh, Nickleby, eh ? " pursued the client. " Where does
she live .'' "
"Really, my lord," said Ralph, rubbing his hands slowly
over each other, " I must think before I tell you."
"No, not a bit of it, Nickleby; you musn't think at all.
Where is it ? "
"No good can come of your knowing," replied Ralph.
" She has been virtuously and well brought up \ to be sure she
is handsome, poor, unprotected ! Poor girl, poor girl."
Ralph ran over this brief summary of Kate's condition as
if it were merely passing through his own mind, and he had
no intention to speak aloud ; but the shrewd sly look which
he directed at his companion as he delivered it, gave this
poor assumption the lie.
" I tell you I only want to see her," cried his client. "A
ma-an may look at a pretty woman without harm, mayn't he ?
Now, where does she live .'' You know you're making a for-
tune out of me, Nickleby, and upon my soul nobody shall
ever take me to anybody else, if you only tell me this."
" As you promise that, my lord," said Ralph, with feigned
reluctance, " and as I am most anxious to oblige you, and as
there's no harm in it — no harm — I'll tell you. But you had
better keep it to yourself, my lord ; strictly to yourself."
Ralph pointed to the adjoining room as he spoke, and nodded
expressively.
The young lord, feigning to be equally impressed with the
necessity of this precaution, Ralph disclosed the present ad-
dress and occupation of his niece, observing that from what he
heard of the family they appeared very ambitious to have
distinguished acquaintances, and that a lord could, doubtless,
introduce himself with great ease, if he felt disposed.
" Your object being only to see her again," said Ralph,
" you could effect it at any time you chose by that means."
^^6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Lord Frederick acknowledged the hint with a great many
squeezes of Ralph's hard, horny hand, and whispering that
they would now do well to close the conversation, called to
Sir Mulberry Hawk that he might come back.
" I thought you had gone to sleep," said Sir Mulberry, re-
appearing with an ill-tempered air.
" Sorry to detain you," replied the gull ; " but Nickleby
has been so ama-azingly funny that I couldn't tear myself
away."
" No, no," said Ralph ; " it was all his lordship. You
know what a witty, humorous, elegant, accomplished man
Lord Frederick is. Mind the step, my lord — Sir Mulberry,
pray give way."
With such courtesies as these, and many low bows, and
the same cold ^neer upon his face all the while, Ralph busied
himself in showing Tiis visitors down stairs, and otherwise than
by the slightest possible motion about the corners of his
mouth, returned no show of answer to the look of admiration
with which Sir Mulberry Hawk seemed to compliment him on
being suQh an accomplished and most consummate scoundrel.
There"hTid-been-a ri-ng at the bell a few momenis before,
which was answered by Newman Noggs just as they reached
the hall. In the ordinary course of business Newman would
have_either admitted the new-comer in silence, or have re-
quested him or her to stand aside whiJe the gentlemen passed
out. But he no sooner saw who it was, than as if for some
private reason of his own, he boldly departed from the estab-
lished custom of Ralph's mansion in business hours, and look-
ing towards the respectable trio who were approaching, cried
in a loud and sonorous voice : " Mrs. Nickleby ! "
" Mrs. Nickleby ! " cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, as his friend
looked back, and stared him in the face.
It was, indeed, that well-intentioned lady, who, having
received an offer for the empty house in the city directed to
the landlord, had brought it post-haste to Mr. Nickleby with-
out delay.
" Nobody ji'^w know," said Ralph. " Step into the office,
my — my — dear. I'll be with you directly."
" Nobody I know ! " cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, advancing
to the astonished lady. " Is this Mrs. Nickleby— the mother
of Miss Nickleby — the delightful creature that I had the hap-
piness of meeting in this house the very last time I dined
here ! But no ; " said Sir Mulberry, stopping short. " No, it
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 33 A
can't be. There is the same cast of features, the same inde-
scribable air of — But no, no. This lady is too young for that."
" 1 think you can tell the gentleman, brother-m-law, if it
concerns him to know," said Mrs. Nickleby, acknowledging
the compliment with a graceful bend, " that Kate Nickleby is
my daughter."
" Her daughter, my lord ! " cried Sir Mulberry, turning to
his friend. " This lady's daughter, my lord."
"My lord!" thought Mrs. Nickleby. "Well, I never
did—! "
" This, then, my lord," said Sir Mulberry, "is the lady to
whose obliging marriage we owe so much happiness. This
lady is the mother of sweet Miss Nickleby. Do you observe
the extraordinary likeness, my lord ? Nickleby — introduce
us."
Ralph did so, in a kind of desperation.
" Upon my soul, it's a most delightful thing," said Lord
Frederick, pressing forward : " How de do ? "
Mrs. Nickleby was too much flurried by these uncommonly
kind salutations, and her regrets at not having on her other
bonnet, to make any immediate reply, so she merely continued
to bend and smile, and betray great' agitation.
" A — and how is Miss Nickleby.'" said Lord Frederick.
" Well, I hope ? "
" She is quite well, I'm obliged to you, my lord," returned
Mrs. Nickleby, recovering. " Quite well. She wasn't well
for some days after that day she dined here, and I can't help
thinking, that she caught cold in that hackney-coach coming
home : Hackney-coaches, my lord, are such nasty things, that
it's ahnost better to walk at any time, for although I believe a
hackney-coachman can be transported for life, if he has a -
broken window, still they are so reckless, that they nearly all
have broken windows. I once had a swelled face for six weeks,
my lord, from riding in a hackney-coach — I think it was a hack-
ney-coach," said Mrs. Nickleby reflecting, " though Fm not
quite certain, whether it wasn't a chariot ; at all events I
know it was a dark green, with a very long number, beginning
with a nought and ending with a nine — no, beginning with a
nine, and ending with a nought, that was it, and of course the
stamp-office people would know at once whether it was a
coach or a chariot if any inquiries were made there — however
that was, there it was with a broken window, and there was I
for six weeks with a swelled face — I think that was the very
22
^,g NICHOLAS MICKLEBY.
same hackney-coach, that we found out afterwards, had the top
open all the time, and we should never even have known it,
if they hadn't charged us a shilling an hour extra for having it
open, which it seems is the law, or was then, and a most
shameful law it appears to be — I don't understand the subject,
but I should say the corn Laws could be nothing to that act
of Parliament."
Having pretty well run herself out by this time, Mrs. Nick-
leby stopped as suddenly as she had started off, and repeated
that Kate was quite well. " . .deed," said Mrs. Nickleby,
" I don't think she ever was better, since she had the hooping-
cough, scarlet-fever and measles, all at the same time, and
that'^s the fact."
" Is that letter for me ? " growled Ralph, pointing to the
little packet Mrs. Nickleby held in her hand.
" For you, brother-in-law," replied Mrs. Nickleby, "and I
walked all the way up here on purpose to give it you."
" All the way up here ! " cried Sir Mulberry, seizing upon
the chance of discovering where Mrs. Nickleby had come from.
" What a confounded distance ! How far do you call it
now? "
" How far do I call it ! " said Mrs. Nickleby. " Let me
see. It's just a mile, from our door to the Old Bailey."
" No, no. Not so much as that," urged Sir Mulberry.
" Oh ! It is indeed," said Mrs. Nickleby. " I appeal to
his lordship."
" I should decidedly say it was a mile," remarked Lord
Frederick, with a solemn aspect.
" It must be ; it can't be a yard less," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" All down Newgate Street, all down Cheapside, all up Lom-
bard Street, down Gracechurch Street, and along Thames
Street, as far as Spigwiffin's Wharf. Oh ! It's a mile."
" Yes, on second thoughts I should say it was," replied
• Sir Mulberry. " But you don't surely mean to walk all the
way back .'' "
" Oh, no," rejoined Mrs. Nickleby.. " I shall go back in
an omnibus. I didn't travel about in omnibuses, when my poor
dear Nicholas was alive, brother-in-law. But as it is, you
know — "
"Yes, yes," replied Ralph impatiently, "and you had
better get back before dark."
" Thank you, brother-in-law, so I had," returned Mrs.
Nickleby. " I think I had better say good-by, at once."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 330
" Not stop and — rest ? " said Ralph, who seldom offered
refreshments unless something was to be got by it.
" Oh dear me no," returned Mrs. Nickleby, glancing at
the dial.
" Lord Frederick," said Sir Mulberry, " we are going Mrs.
Nickleby's way. We'll see her safe to the omnibus t "
" By all means. Ye-es."
" Oh ! I really couldn't think of it ! " said Mrs. Nick-
leby.
But Sir Mulberry Hawk, and Lord Frederick were per-
emptory in their politeness, and leaving Ralph, who seemed
to think, not unwisely, that he looked less ridiculous as a mere
spectator, than he would have done if he had taken any part
in these proceedings, they quitted the house with Mrs. Nickleby
between them ; that good lady in a perfect ecstasy of satisfac-
tion, no less with the attentions shown her by two titled gen-
tlemen, than with the conviction that Kate might now pick
and choose, at least between two large fortunes, and most
unexceptionable husbands.
As she was carried away for the moment by an irresistible
train of ■• thought, all connected with her daughter's future
greatness. Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend exchanged
glances over the top of the bonnet which the poor lady so
much regretted not having left at home, and proceeded to dilate
with great rapture, but much respect, on the manifold per^
fections of Miss Nickleby.
" What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this
amiable creature must be to you," said Sir Mulberry, throw-
ing into his voice an indication of the warmest feeling.
"She is indeed, sir," replied Mrs. Nickleby; "she is the
sweetest-tempered, kindest-hearted creature — and so clever ! "
" She looks clayver," said Lord Frederick Verisopht, with
the air of a judge of cleverness.
" I assure you she is, my lord," returned Mrs. Nickleby.
" When she was at school in Devonshire, she was universally
allowed to be beyond all exception the very cleverest girl there,
and there were a great many very clever ones too, and that's
the truth — twenty-five young ladies, fifty guineas a-year without
the et-ceteras, both the Miss Dowdies, the most accomplished,
elegant, fascinating creatures — Oh dear me ! " said Mrs.
Nickleby, " I never shall forget what pleasure she used to
give me and her poor dear papa, when she was at that school,
never — such a delightful letter every half-year, telling us that
34°
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
she was the first pupil in the whole establishment, and had
made more progress than anybody else ! I can scarcely bear
to think of it even now. The girls wrote all the letters them-
selves," added Mrs. Nickleby, " and the writing-master touched
them up afterwards with a magnifying glass and a silver pen ;
at least I think they wrote them, though Kate was never quite
certain about that, because she didn't know the handwriting
of hers again ; but any way, I know it was a circular which
they all copied, and of course it was a very gratifying thing —
very gratifying."
With similar recollections Mrs. Nickleby beguiled the
tediousness of the way, until they reached the omnibus, which
the extreme politeness of her new friends would not allow
them to leave until it actually started, when they took their
hats, as Mrs. Nickleby solemnly assured her hearers on many
subsequent occasions, " completely off," and kissed their
straw-colored kid gloves till they were no longer visible.
Mrs. Nickleby leant back in the furthest corner of the
conveyance, and, closing her eyes, resigned herself to a host
of most pleasing meditations. Kate had never said a word
about having met either of these gentlemen ; " tl^at," she
thought, " argues that she is strongly prepossessed in favor
of one of them." Then the question arose, which one could
it be. The lord was the youngest, and his title was certainly
the grandest ; still Kate was not the girl to be swayed by such
considerations as these. " I will never put any constraint
upon her inclinations," said Mrs. Nickleby to herself; "but
upon my word I think there's no comparison between his
lordship and Sir Mulberr)'. Sir Mulberry is such an attentive
gentlemanly creature, so much manner, such a fine man, and
has so much to say for himself. I hope it's Sir Mulberry ;
I think it must be Sir Mulberry ! " And then her thoughts
flew back to her old predictions, and the number of times
she had said, that Kate with no fortune would marry better
than other people's daughters with thousands ; and, as she
pictured with the brightness of a mother's fancy all the
beauty and grace of the poor girl who had struggled so cheer-
fully with her new life of hardship and trial, her heart grew too
full, and the tears trickled down her face.
Meanwhile, Ralph walked to and fro in his little back
office, troubled in mind by what had just occurred. To say
that Ralph loved or cared for — in the most ordinar)' accepta-
tion of those terms — any one of God's creatures, would be the
NICHOLAS NIC KLEBY. 341
wildest fiction. Still, there had somehow stolen upon him
from time to time a thought of his niece which was tiniied
witlv-compassion and pity ; breaking through the dull cloud
of dislike or indifference which darkened men and women in
his eyes, there was, in her case, the faintest gleam of light — a
■most feeble and^sjckly ray at the B"est of limes — but there it
was, and it showed the poor girl in a better and purer aspect
than any in which he had looked on human nature yet.
" I wish," thought Ralph, " I had never done this. And
yet it will keep this boy to me, while there is money to be
made. Selling;^a^irl— throwing her in the wa}- of temjojtation^
and insult, and coarse speech. Nearly two thousand, pounds
profit from him already though. Pshaw ! match-making
mothers__daJjie same thing every day."
He sat down, and told the chances, for and against, on
his fingers.
" If I had not put them in the right track to-day," thought
Ralph, " this foolish woman would have done so. Well. If
her daughter is as true to herself as she should be from
what I have seen, what harm ensues ? A little teazing, a little
humbling, a few_tears. Yes," said Ralpli, aloud, as lit locked
his iron sai'e. " She must take her chance. She must take
her chance." ,-^
CHAPTER XXVII.
MRS. NICKLEBY BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH MESSRS.- PYKE
AND PLUCK, WHOSE AFFECTION AND INTEREST ARE BEYOND
ALL BOUNDS.
Mrs. Nickleby had not felt so proud and important for
many a day, as when, on reaching home, she gave herself
wholly up to the pleasant visions which had accompanied her
on her way thither. Lady Mulberry Hawk — that was the
prevalent idea. Lady Mulberry Hawk ! — On Tuesday last,
at St. George's, Hanover-square, by the Right Reverend the
Bishop of Llandaff,, Sir Mulberry Hawk, of Mulberry Castle,
North Wales, to Catherine, only daughter of the late Nicholas
Nickleby, Esquire, of Devonshire. " Upon my word ! " cried
Mrs. Nicholas Nickleby, " it sounds very well."
Having despatched the ceremony, with its attendant fes-
342 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
tivities, to the perfect satisfaction of her own mind, the san-
guine mother pictured to her imagination a long train of honors
and distinctions wliicli could not fail to accompany Kate in
her new and brilliant sphere. She would be presented at
court, of course. On the anniversary of her birthday, which
was upon the nineteenth of July (" at ten minutes past three
o'clock in the morning," thought Mrs. Nickleby in a paren-
thesis, " for I recollect asking what o'clock it was,") Sir Mul-
berry would give a great feast to all his tenants, and would
return them three and a half per cent, on the amount of their
last half-year's rent, as would be fully described and recorded
in the fashionable intelligence, to the immeasurable delight
and admiration of all the readers thereof. Kate's picture,
too, would be in at least half-a-dozen of the annuals, and on
the opposite page would appear, in delicate type, *' Lines on
contemplating the Portrait of Lady Mulberry Hawk. By Sir
Dingleby Dabber. Perhaps some one annual, of more com-
prehensive design than its fellows, might even contain a por-
trait of the mother of Lady Mulberry Hawk, with lines by the
father of Sir Dingleby Dabber. More unlikely things had
come to pass. Less interesting portraits had appear-^d. As
this thought occurred to the good lady, her countenance un-
consciously assumed that compound expression of simpering
and sleepiness which, being common to all such portraits, is
perhajDS one reason why they are always so charming and
agreeable.
With such triumphs of aerial architecture did Mrs. Nickle-
by occupy the whole evening after her accidental introduction
to Ralph's titled friends ; and dreams, no less prophetic and
equally promising, haunted her sleep that night. She was
preparing for her frugal dinner next day, still occupied with the
same ideas — a little softened down perhaps by sleep and
daylight — when the girl who attended her partly for company,
and partly to assist in the household affairs, rushed into the
room in unwonted agitation, and announced that two gentle-
men were waiting in the passage for permission to walk up
stairs.
" Bless my heart ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, hastily arranging
her cap and front, " if it should be — dear me, standing in the
passage all this time — why don't you go and ask them to
walk up, you stupid thing } "
While the girl was gone on this errand, Mrs. Nickleby
hastily swept into a cupboard all vestiges of eating and drink-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 343
ing ; which she had scarcely done, and seated herself with
looks as collected as she could assume, when two gentlemen,
both perfect strangers, presented themselves.
" How do you do i " said one gentleman, laying great
stress on the last word of the inquiry.
" Ho70 do you do ? " said the other gentleman, altering
the emphasis, as if to give variety to the salutation.
Mrs. Nickleby curtseyed and smiled, and curtseyed again,
and remarked, rubbing her hands as she did so, that she
hadn't the — really — the honor to —
" To know us," said the first gentleman. " The loss has
been ours, Mrs. Nickleby. Has the loss been ours, Pyke ? "
" It has, Pluck," answered the other gentleman.
"We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pyke?" said
the first gentleman.
" Very often. Pluck," answered the second.
"But now," said the first gentleman, "now we have the
happiness we have pined and languished for. Have we pined
and languished for this happiness, Pyke, or have we not } "
" You know we have. Pluck," said Pyke, reproachfully.
" Xgu hear him, ma'am ? " said Mr. Pluck, looking
round ; " you hear the unimpeachable testimony of my friend
Pyke — that reminds me, — formalities, formalities, must not be
neglected in civilized society. Pyke — Mrs. Nickleby."
Mr. Pyke laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed low.
" Whether I shall introduce myself with the same formal-
ity," said Mr. Pluck — "whether I shall say myself that my
name is Pluck, or whether 1 shall ask my friend Pyke (who
being now regularly introduced, is competent to the office) to
state for me, Mrs. Nickleby, that my name is Pluck ; whether
I shall claim your acquaintance on the plain ground of the
strong interest I take in your welfare, or whether I shall
make° myself known to you as the friend of Sir Mulberry
Hawk — these, Mrs. Nickleby, are considerations which I
leave to you to determine."
" Any friend of Sir Mulberry- Hawk's requires no better
introduction to me," observed Mrs. Nickleby, graciously.
" It is delightful to hear you say so," said Mr. Pluck,
drawing a chair close to Mrs. Nickleby, and seating himself.
" It is refreshing to know that you hold my excellent friend,
Sir Mulberry, in such high esteem. A word in your ear, Mrs.
Nickleby. When Sir Mulberry knows it, he will be a happy
man — I say, Mrs. Nickleby, a happy man. Pyke, be seated."
344
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" My good opinion," said Mrs, Nickleby, and the poor
lady exulted in the idea that she was man'ellously sly : " my
good opinion can be of very little consequence to a gentleman
like Sir Mulberry."
" Of little consequence ! " exclaimed Mr. Pluck. " Pyke,
of what consequence to our friend, Sir Mulberry, is the good
opinion of Mrs. Nickleby?"
"Of what consequence .-' " echoed Pyke.
"Ay," repeated Pluck; "is it of the greatest conse-
quence ? "
"Of the very greatest consequence," replied Pyke.
"Mrs. Nickleby cannot be ignorant," said Mr. Pluck, " of
the immense impression which that sweet girl has — "
" Pluck ! " said his friend, " beware ! "
" Pyke is right," muttered Mr. Pluck, after a short pause ;
" I was not to mention it. Pyke is very right. Thank you,
Pyke."
" Well now, really ! " thought Mrs. Nickleby within her-
self. " Such delicacy as that, I never saw ! "
Mr. Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great
embarrassment for some minutes, resumed the conversation
by entreating Mrs. Nickleby to take no heed of what tie had
inadvertently said — to consider him imprudent, rash, injudi-
cious. The only stipulation he would make in his own favor
was, that she should give him credit for the best intentions.
" But when," said Mr. Pluck, " when I see so much sweet-
ness and beauty on the one hand, and so much ardor and
devotion on the other, I — pardon me, Pyke, I didn't intend to
resume that theme. Change the subject, Pyke."
"We promised Sir Mulberry and Lord Frederick," said
Pyke, " that we'd call this morning and inquire whether you
took any cold last night."
" Not the least in the world last night, sir," replied Mrs.
Nickleby, " with many thanks to his lordship and Sir Mul-
berry for doing me the honor to inquire ; not the least —
which is the more singular, as I really am very subject to colds,
indeed — very subject. I had a cold once," said Mrs. Nickle-
by, " I think it was in the year eighteen hundred and seven-
teen ; let me see, four and five are nine, and — yes, eighteen
hundred and seventeen, that I thought I never should get rid
of ; actually and seriously, that I tliought 1 never should get
rid of. I was only cured at last by a remedy that I don't
know whether you ever happened to hear of, Mr. Pluck.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 345
You have a gallon of water as hot as you can possibly bear
it, with a pound of salt and sixpen'orth of the finest bran,
and sit with your head in it for twenty minutes every night
just before going to bed ; at least, I don't mean your head —
your feet. It's a most extraordinary cure — a most extraordi-
nary cure. I used it for the first time, I recollect, the day
after Christmas Day, and by the middle of April following
the cold was gone. It seems quite a miracle when you come
to think of it, for I had it ever since the beginning of Sep
tember."
" What an afflicting calamity ! " said Mr. Pyke.
" Perfectly horrid ! " exclaimed Mr. Pluck.
" But it's worth the pain of hearing, only to know that
Mrs. Nickleby recovered it, isn't it, Pluck .? " cried Mr. Pyke.
" That is the circumstance which gives it such a thrilling
interest," replied Mr. Pluck.
" But come," said Pyke, as if suddenly recollecting him-
self ; " we must not forget our mission in the pleasure of this
interview. We come on a mission, Mrs. Nickleby."
" On a mission," exclaimed that good lady, to whose mind
a defiii^tive proposal of marriage for Kate at once presented
itself in lively colors.
" From Sir Mulberry, replied Pyke. " You must be very
dull here."
" Rather dull, I confess," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a
thousand entreaties that you'll take a seat in a private box at
the play to-night," said Mr. Pluck.
" Oh dear ! " said Mrs. Nickleby, " I never go out at all,
never."
" And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs. Nickleby,
why you should go out to-night," retorted Mr. Pluck. *• Pyke,
entreat Mrs. Nickleby."
" Oh, pray do," said Pyke.
" You positively must," urged Pluck.
" You are very kind," said Mrs. Nickleby, hesitating ;
." but—"
" There's not a but in the case, my dear Mrs. Nickleby,'''
remonstrated Mr. Pluck ; " not such a word in the A'ocabulary.
Your brother-in-law joins us, Lord Frederick joins us, Sir
Mulberry joins us, Pvke joins us — a refusal is out of the ques-
tion. Sir Mulberry sends a carriage for you — twenty minutes
before seven to the moment — you'll not be so cruel as to dis-
appoint the whole party, Mrs. Nickleby ? "
346 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" You are so very pressing, that I scarcely know what to
say," replied the worthy lady.
" Say nothing ; not a word, not a word, my dearest
madam," urged Mr. Pluck. " Mrs. Nickleby," said that ex-
cellent gentleman, lowering his voice, " there is the most
trifling, the most excusable breach of confidence in what I
am about to say ; and yet if my friend Pyke there overheard
it — such is that man's delicate sense of honor, Mrs. Nickleby
— he'd have me out before dinner-time."
" Mrs. Nickleby cast an apprehensive glance at the war-
like Pyke, who had walked to the window ; and Mr. Pluck,
squeezing her hand, went on :
" Your daughter has made a conquest on which I may
congratulate you. Sir Mulberry, my dear ma'am. Sir Mul-
berry is her devoted slave. Hem! "
" Hah ! " cried Mr. Pyke, at this juncture, snatching some-
thing from the chimney-piece with a theatrical air. " What
is this ! what do I beho'ld ! "
" What do you behold, my dear fellow ? " asked Mr. Pluck.
" It is the face, the countenance, the expression," cried
Mr. Pyke, falling into his chair with a miniature in his hand ;
" feebly portrayed, imperfectly caught, but still the face, the
countenance, the expression."
" I recognize it at this distance ! " exclaimed Mr. Pluck,
in a fit of enthusiasm. " Is it not, my dear madam, the faint
similitude of — "
" It is my daughter's portrait," said Mrs. Nickleby, with
great pride. And so it was. And little Miss La Creevy had
brought it home for inspection only two nights before.
Mr. Pyke no sooner ascertained that he was quite right in
his conjecture, than he launched into the most extravagant
encomiums of the divine original ; and in the warmth of his
enthusiasm kissed the picture a thousand times, while Mr.
Pluck pressed Mrs. Nickleby 's hand to his heart, and con-
gratulated her on the possession of such a daughter, with so
much earnestness and affection, that the tears stood, or
seemed to stand, in his eyes. Poor Mrs. Nickleb}', who haci^
listened in a state of enviable complacenc}^ at first, became at
length quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for, and
attachment to, the family ; and even the servant girl, who had
peeped in at the door, remained rooted to the spot, in aston-
ishment at the ecstasies of the two friendly visitors.
By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs. Nickleby went
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 347
i.
on to entertain her guests with a lament over her fallen for-
tunes, and a picturesque account of her old house in the coun-
try ; comprising a full description of the different apartments,
not forgetUng the little store-room, and a lively recollection of
how many steps you went down to get into the garden, and
which way you turned when you came out at the parlor-door,
and what capital fixtures there were in the kitchen. This last
reflection naturally conducted her into the wash-house, where
she stumbled upon the brewing utensils, among which she
might have wandered for an hour, if the mere mention of
those implements had not, by an association of ideas, in-
stantly reminded Mr. Pyke that he was " amazing thirsty."
" And I'll tell you what," said Mr. Pyke ; " if you'll send
round to the public-house for a pot of mild half-and-half, pos-
itively and actually I'll drink it."
And positively and actually Mr. Pyke did drink it, and
Mr. Pluck helped him, while Mrs. Nickleby looked on in di-
vided admiration of the condescension of the two, and the ap-
titude with which they accommodated themselves to the pew-
ter-pot ; in explanation of which seeming marvel it may be
here observed, that gentlemen who, like Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck, live upon their wits (or not so much, perhaps, upon
the presence of their own wits as upon the absence of wits in
other people) are occasionally reduced to very narrow shifts
and straits, and are at such periods accustomed to regale
themselves in a very simple and primitive manner.
"At twenty minutes before seven, then," said Mr. Pyke,
rising, " the coach will be here. One more look — one little
look — at that sweet face. Ah ! here it is. Unmoved, un-
changed ! " This by the way was a very remarkable circum-
stance, miniatures being liable to so many changes of expres-
sion. " Oh, Pluck ! Pluck ! "
Mr. Pluck made no other reply than kissing Mrs. Nick-
leby's hand with a great show of feeling and attachment ;
Mr. Pyke having done the same, both gentlemen hastily with- ^
drew. ^
^ Mrs. Nickleby was commonly in the habit of giving herself ^
credit for a pretty tolerable share of penetration and acute-
ness, but she had never felt so satisfied with her own sharp-
sightedness as she did that day. She had found it all out
the night before. She had never seen Sir Mulberry and
Kate together — never even heard Sir Mulbeny's name — and
yet hadn't she said to herself from the veiy first, that she
348 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y
saw how the case stood ? and what a triumpli it was, for
there was now no doubt about it. If these flattering atten-
tions to herself were not sufficient proofs, Sir Mulberry's con-
fidential friend had suffered the secret to- escape him in so
many words. " I am quite in love with that dear Mr. Pluck,
I declare I am," said Mrs. Nickleby.
There was one great source of uneasiness in the midst of
this good fortune, and that was the having nobody by, to
whom she could confide it. Once or twice she almost resolved
to walk straight to Miss La Creevy's and tell it all to her.
" But I don't know," thought Mrs. Nickleby ; " she is a very
worthy person, but I am afraid too much beneath Sir Mul-
berry's station for us to make a companion of. Poor thing ! "
Acting upon this grave consideration she rejected the idea of
taking the little portrait-painter into her confidence, and con-
tented herself with holding out sundry vague and mysterious
hopes of preferment to the servant-girl, who received these
obscure hints of dawning greatness with much veneration and
respect.
Punctual to its time came the promised vehicle, which was
no hackney coach, but a private chariot, having behind it a
footman, whose legs, although somewhat large for his body,
might, as mere abstract legs, have set themselves up for
models at the Royal Academy. It was quite exhilarating to
hear the clash and bustle with which he banged the door and
jumped up behind after Mrs. Nickleby was in ; and as that
good lady was perfectly unconscious that he applied the gold-
headed end of his long stick to his nose, and so telegraphed
most disrespectfully to the coachman over her very head, she
sat in a state of much stiffness and dignity, not a little proud
of her position.
At the theatre entrance there was more banging and more
bustle, and there were also Messrs. Pyke and Pluck waiting
to escort her to her box ; and so polite were they that Mr.
Pyke threatened with many oaths to " smifligate " a very old
man with a lantern who accidentally stumbled in her way
— to the great terror of Mrs. Nickleby, who, conjecturing^^
more from Mr. Pyke's excitement than any previous acquaint- ■
ance with the etymology of the word that smilligation and
bloodshed must be in the main one and the same thing, was
alarmed beyond expression, lest something should occur.
Fortunately, however, Mr. Pyke confined himself to mere
verbal smilligation, and they reached their box with no more
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY. 34CJ
serious interruption by the way, than a desire on the part of
the same pugnacious gentleman to "smash " the assistant box-
keeper for happening to mistake the number.
Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely been put away behind the
curtain of the box in an arm chair, when Sir Mulberry and
Lord Frederick Verisopht arrived, arrayed from the crowns
of their heads to the tips of their gloves, and from the tips of
their gloves to the toes of their boots, in the most elegant and
costly manner. Sir Mulberry was a little hoarser than on the
previous day, and Lord Frederick looked rather sleepy and
queer : from which tokens, as well as from the circumstance
of their both being to a trifling extent unsteady on their legs,
Mrs. Nickleby justly concluded that they had taken dinner.
" We have been — we have been — toasting your lovely
daughter, Mrs. Nickleby," whispered Sir Mulberr}^, sitting
down behind her.
" Oh, ho ! " thought that knowing lady ; " wine in, truth
out. — You are very kind. Sir Mulberry."
" No, no, upon my soul ! " replied Sir Mulberry Hawk.
" It's you that's kind, upon my soul it is. It was so kind of
you to come to-night."
" So very kind of you to invite me, you mean. Sir Mulberry,"
replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking pro-
digiously sly.
" I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate
your good opinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious
kind of harmonious family understanding between us," said
Sir Mulberry, " that you mustn't think I'm disinterested in
what I do. I'm infernal selfish ; I am — upon my soul I am."
"lam sure you can't be selfish. Sir Mulberr}^" replied
Mrs. Nickleby. " You have much too open and generous a
countenance for that."
" What an extraordinary observer you are ! " said Sir
Mulberry Hawk.
"Oh no, indeed, I don't see very far into things. Sir
Mulberr}'," replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which
heft the baronet to infer that she saw very far indeed.
" I am quite afraid of you," said the baronet. " Upon my
soul," repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his compan-
ions ; " I am afraid of Mrs. Nickleby. She is so immensely
sharp."
Messrs. Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously,
and observed together that they had found that out long ago ;
3 5 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
upon which Mrs. Nickleby tittered, and Sir Mulberry laughed,
and Pyke and Pluck roared.
*• But Where's my brother-in-law. Sir Mulberry? " inquired
Mrs. Nickleby. " I shouldn't be here without him. I hope
he's coming."
" Pyke," said Sir Mulberry, taking out his toothpick and
lolling back in his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a
reply to this question. " Where's Ralph Nickleby ? "
" Pluck," said Pyke, imitating the baronet's action, and
turning the lie over to his friend, "where's Ralph Nickleby ? "
Mr. Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when
the bustle caused by a party entering the next box seemed to
attract the attention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged
glances of much meaning. The new party beginning to con-
verse together. Sir Mulberry suddenly assumed the character
of a most attentive listener, and implored his friends not to
breathe — not to breathe.
" Why not ? " said Mrs. Nickleby. " What is the matter ? "
" Hush ! " replied Sir Mulbeny, laying his hand on her
arm. " Lord Frederick, do you recognize the tones of that
voice ? "
" Deyvle take me if I didn't think it was the voice of Miss
Nickleby."
" Lor, my lord ! " cried Miss Nickleby's mamma, thrusting
her head round the curtain. '' Why actually — Kate, my dear,
Kate."
" Yo?/ here, mamma ! Is it possible ! "
" Possible, my dear.-* Yes."
" Why who — who on earth is that you have with you,
mamma ? " said Kate, shrinking back as she caught sight of a
man smiling and kissing his hand.
" Who do you suppose, my dear ? " replied Mrs. Nickleby,
bending towards Mrs. Wititterly, and speaking a little louder
for that lady's edification. " There's Mr. Pyke, Mr. Pluck, Sir
Mulberry Hawk, and Lord Frederick Verisopht."
"Gracious Heaven!" thought Kate hurriedly. "How
comes she in such society ! "
Now, Kate thought thus so hurriedly, and the surprise was
so great, and moreover brought back so forcibly the recollec-
tion of what had passed at Ralph's delectable dinner, that she
turned extremely pale and appeared greatly agitated, which
symptoms being observed by Mrs. Nickleby, were at once
set down by that acute lady as being caused and occasioned
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 35 1
by violent love. But, although she was in no small degree
delighted by this discovery which reflected so much credit on
her own quickness of perception, it did not lessen her motherly
anxiety in Kate's behalf ; and accordingly, with a vast quantity
of trepidation, she quitted her own box to hasten into that of
Mrs. Wititterly. Mrs. Wititterly, keenly alive to the glory of
having a lord and a baronet among her visiting acquaintance,
lost no time in signing to Mr. Wititterly to open the door, and
thus it was that in less than thirty seconds Mrs. Nickleby's
party had made an irruption into Mrs. Wititterly's box, which
it filled to the very door, there being in fact only room for
Messrs. Fyke and Pluck to get in their heads and waistcoats.
" My dear Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby, kissing her daughter
affectionately. " How ill you looked a moment ago ! You
quite frightened me, I declare ! "
" It was mere fancy, mamma— the — the — reflection of the
lights perhaps," replied Kate, glancing nervously round, and
finding it impossible to whisper any caution or explanation.
" Don't you see Sir Mulberry Hawk, my dear ? "
Kate bowed slightly, and biting her lip turned her head
towards the stage.
But Sir Mulberry Hawk was not to be so easily repulsed,
for he advanced with extended hand ; and Mrs. Nickleby
officiously informing Kate of this circumstance, she was
obliged to extend her own. Sir Mulberry detained it while
he murmured a profusion of compliments, which Kate, remem-
bering what had passed between them, rightly considered as
so many aggravations of the insult he had already put upon
her. Then followed the recognition of Lord Frederick Veri-
sopht, and then the greeting of Mr. Pyke, and then that of Mr.
Pluck, and finally, to complete the young lady's mortification,
she was compelled at Mrs. Wititterly's request to perform
the ceremony of introducing the odious persons, whom she
regarded with the utmost indignation and abhorrence.
" Mrs. Wititterly is delighted," said Mr. Wititterly, rubbing
his hands ; " delighted, my lord, I am sure, with this oppor-
tunity of contracting an acquaintance which, I trust, my lord,
we shall improve. Julia, my dear, you must not allow your-
self to be too much excited, you must not. Indeed you must
not. Mrs. Wititterly is of a most excitable nature. Sir Mul-
berry. The snuff of a candle, the wick of a lamp, the bloom
of a peach, the down on a butterfly. You might blow her
away, my lord ; you might blow her away."
352 NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY.
Sir Mulberry seemed to think that it would be a great
convenience if the lady could be blown away. He said, how-
ever, that the delight was mutual, and Lord Frederick added
that it was mutual, whereupon Messrs. Pike and Pluck were
heard to murmur from the distance that it was very mutual
indeed.
" I take- an interest, my lord," said Mrs. Wititterly, with
a faint smile, " such an interest in the drama."
"Ye — es. It's very interesting," replied Lord Frederick.
" I'm always ill after Shakspeare," said Mrs. Wititterly.
" I scarcely exist the next day ; I find the re-action so very
great after a tragedy, my lord, and Shakspeare is such a deli-
cious creature."
" Ye — es ! " replied Lord Frederick. " He was a clayver
man."
" Do you know, my lord," said Mrs. Wititterly, after a
long silence, " I find I take so much more interest in his plays,
after having been to that dear little dull house he was born
in ! Were you ever there, my lord ? "
" No, nayver," replied my lord.
" Then really you ought to go, my lord," returned Mrs.
Wititterly, in very languid and drawling accents. " I don't
know how it is, but after you've seen the place and written
your name in the little book, somehow or other you seem to
be inspired ; it kindles up quite a fire within one."
" Ye — es ! " replied Lord Frederick, " I shall certainly go
there."
"Julia, my life," interposed Mr. Wititterly, "you are de-
ceiving his lordship — unintentionally, my lord, she is deceiving
you. It is your poetical temperament, my dear — 3-our ethereal
soul — your fervid imagination, which throws you into a glow
of genius and excitement. There is nothing in the place, my
dear — nothing, nothing."
" I think there must be something in the place," said Mrs.
Nickleby, who had been listening in silence ; "for, soon after
I was married, I went to Stratford with my poor dear Mr,
Nickleby, in a post-chaise from Birmingham — was it a jDOSt^
chaise though !" said Mrs. Nickleby, considering; "yes, it
must have been a post-chaise, because I recollect remarking
at the time that the driver had a green shade over his left
eye ; — in a post-chaise from Birmingham, and after we had
seen Shakspeare's tomb and birth-place, we went back to the
inn there, where we slept that night, and I recollect that all
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 3^3
night long I dreamt of nothing but a black gentleman, at full
length, in plaster-of-Paris, with a lay down collar tied with
two tassels, leaning against a post and thinking ; and when I
woke in the morning and described him to Mr. Nickleby, he
said it was Shakspeare just as he had been when he was
alive, which was very curious indeed. Stratford — Stratford,''
continued Mrs. Nickleby, considering. " Yes, I am positive
about that, because 1 recollect I was in the family way with
my son Nicholas at the time, and I had been very much
frightened by an Italian image boy that very morning. In
fact, it was quite a mercy, ma'am," added Mrs. Nickleby, in a
whisper to Mrs. Wititterly, " that my son didn't turn out to
be a Shakspeare, and what a dreadful thing that would have
been ! "
When Mrs. Nickleby, had brought this interesting anec-
dote to a close, Pyke and Pluck, ever zealous' in their patron's
cause, proposed the adjournment of a detachment of the
party into the next box ; and with so much skill were the
preliminaries adjusted, that Kate, despite all she could say or
do to the contrary, had no alternative but to suffer herself to
be led away by Sir Mulberry Hawk. Her mother and Mr.
Pluck accompanied them, but the worthy lady, pluming herself
upon her discretion, took particular care not so much as to
look at her daughter during the whole evening, and to seem
wholly absorbed m the jokes and conversation of Mr. Pluck,
who, having been appointed sentry over Mrs. Nickleby for
that especial purpose, neglected, on his side, no possible op-
portunity of engrossing her attention.
Lord Frederick Verisopht remained in the next box to be
talked to by Mrs. Wititterly, and Mr. Pyke was in attendance
to throw in a word or two when necessary. As to Mr. Witit-
terly, he was sufficiently busy in the body of the house, in-
forming such of his friends and acquaintance as happened to
be there, that those two gentlemen up stairs, whom they had
seen in conversation with Mrs. W., were the distinguished
Lord Frederick Verisopht and his most intimate friend, the
fy Sir Mulberry Hawk — a communication which inflamed
reral respectable house-keepers with the utmost jealousy
and rage, and reduced sixteen unmarried daughters to the
very brink of despair.
The evening came to. an end at last, but Kate had vet to
be handed down stairs by the detested Sir Mulberrv ; and so
skilfully were the manoeuvres of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck
354
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
conducted, that she and the baronet were the last of the party,
and were even — without an appearance of effort or design —
left at some little distance behind.
" Don't hurry, don't hurry," said Sir Mulberry, as Kate
hastened on, and attempted to release her arm.
She made no reply, but still pressed forward.
" Nay, then — " coolly observed Sir Mulberr)', stopping her
outright.
" You had best not seek to detain me, sir ! " said Kate,
angrily.
" And why not ? " retorted Sir Mulberry. " My dear
creature, now why do you keep up this show of displeas-
ure >. "
'■'■Sho7o/" repeated Kate, indignantly. " How dare you
presume to speak to me, sir — to address me — to come into
my presence ? "
"You look prettier in a passion, Miss Nickleby," said
Sir Mulberry Hawk, stooping down, the better to see her
face.
" I hold you in the bitterest detestation and contempt,
sir," said Kate. " If you find any attraction in looks of dis-
gust and aversion, you — let me rejoin my friends sir, in-
stantly. Whatever considerations may have withheld me thus
far, I will disregard them all, and take a course that even
you might feel, if you do not immediately suffer me to pro-
ceed."
Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and re-
taining her arm, walked towards the door.
" If no regard for my sex or helpless situation will induce
you to desist from this coarse and unmanly persecution,"
said Kate, scarcely knowing, in the tumult of her passions,
what she said, " I have a brother who will resent it dearly,
one day."
" Upon my soul ! " exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though
quietly communing with himself, and passing his arm round
her waist as he spoke, " she looks more beautiful, and I like
her better, in this mood, than when her eyes are cast down,
and she is in perfect repose ! "
How Kate reached the lobby where her friends M'ere
waiting she never knew, but she hurried a(::fross it without at
all regarding them, and disengaged Jierself suddenly from her
companion, sprang into the coach, and throwing herself into
its darkest corner burst into tears.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y 355
Messrs. Pike and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw
the party into great commotion by shouting for the carriages,
and getting up a violent quarrel with sundry inoffensive by-
standers ; in the midst of which tumult they put the affrighted
Mrs. Nicideby in her chariot, and having got her safely off,
turned their thoughts to Mrs. VVititterly, whose attention also
they had now effectually distracted from the young lady, by
throwing her into a state of the utmost bewilderment and
consternation. At length, the conveyance in which she had
come rolled off too with its load, and the four worthies, being
left alone under the portico, enjoyed a hearty laugh together.
"There," said Sir -Mulberry, turning to his noble friend.
" Didn't I tell you last night that if we could find where they
were going by bribing a servant through my fellow, and then
established ourselves close by with the mother, these people's
house would be our own .? Why here it is, done in four-and-
twenty hours."
" Ye-es," replied the dupe. " But I have been tied to the
old woman all ni-ight."
" Hear him ! " said Sir Mulberry, turning to his two friends.
" Hear this discontented grumbler. Isn't it enough to make
a man swear never to help him in his plots and schemes again ?
Isn't it an infernal shame .-' "
Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame,
and Pluck asked Pyke ; but neither answered.
" Isn't it the truth ? " demanded Frederick Verisopht.
" Wasn't it so ? "
" Wasn't it so ! " repeated Sir Mulberry. " How would
you have had it ? How could we have got a general invitation
at first sight — come when you like, go when you like, stop as
long as you like, do what you like — if you, the lord, had not
made yourself agreeable to the foolish mistress of the house ?
Do I care for this girl, except as your friend ? Haven't I
been sounding your praises in her ears, and bearing her pretty
sulks and peevishness all night for you ? What sort of stuff
do you think I'm made of? Would 1 do this for every man .■*
Don't I deserve even gratitude in return ? "
" You're a deyvlish good fellow," said the poor young lord,
taking his friend's arni. " Upon my life, you're a dey\lish
good fellow, Hawk."
"And I have done right, have I ?" demanded Sir Mul
berry.
"Quite ri-ght."
356 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" And like a poor, silly, good-natured, friendly dog as I
am, eh ? "
" Ye-es, ye-es ; like a friend," replied the other.
" Well then," replied Sir Mulberr}', " I'm satisfied. And
now let's go and have our revenge on the German baron and
the Frenchman, who cleaned you out so handsomely last
night."
With these words the friendly creature took his com-
panion's arm and led him away: turning half round as he did
so, and bestowing a wink and a contemptuous smile on Messrs.
Pike and Pluck, who, cramming their handkerchiefs into their
mouths to denote their silent enjoyment of the proceedings,
followed their patron and his victim at a little distance.
CHAPTER XXVIIl.
MISS NICKLEBY, RENDERED DESPERATE BY THE PERSECUTION
OF SIR MULBERRY HAWK, AND THE COMPLICATED DIFFI-
CULTIES AND DISTRESSES WHICH SURROUND HER, APPEALS,
AS A LAST RESOURCE, TO HER UNCLE FOR PROTECTION.
The ensuing morning brought reflection with it, as morn-
ing usually does ; but widely different was the train of thought
it awakened in the different persons who had been so unex-
pectedly brought together on the preceding evening, by the
active agency of Messrs. Pike and Pluck.
The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk — if such a term
can be applied to the thoughts of the systematic and calcula-
ting man of dissipation, whose joys, regrets, pains, and pleas-
ures, are all of self, and who would seem to retain nothing of
the intellectual faculty but the power to debase himself, and
to degrade the very nature whose outward semblance he wears
— the reflections of Sir Mulberry' Hawk turned upon Kate
Nickleby, and were, in brief, that she was undoubtedly hand-
some ; that her coyness must be easily conquerable by a man
of his address and experience, and that the pursuit was one
which could not fail to redound to 'his credit, and greatly to
enhance his reputation with the world. And lest this last con-
sideration— no mean or secondary one with Sir Mulberry —
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 357
should sound strangely in the ears of some, let It be remem-
bered that most men live in a world of their own, and that in
that limited circle alone are they ambitious for distinction and
applause. Sir Mulberry's world was peopled with protiigates,
and he acted accordingly.
Thus, cases of injustice, and oppression, and tyranny, and
the most extravagant bigotry, are in constant occurrence
among us every day. It is the custom to trumpet forth much
wonder and astonishment at the chief actors therein setting
at defiance so completely the opinion of the world ; but there
is no greater fallacy ; it is precisely because they do consult
the opinion of their own little world that such things take
place at all, and strike the great world dumb with amazement.
The reliections of Mrs. Nickleby were of the proudest and
most complacent kind ; under the influence of her very agree-
able delusion she straightway sat down and indited a long
letter to Kate, in which she expressed her entire approval of
the admirable choice she had made, and extolled Sir Mulberry
to the skies ; asserting, for the more complete satisfaction of
her daughter's feelings, that he was precisely the individual
whom she (Mrs. Nickleby") would have chosen for her son-in-
law, if she had had the picking and choosing from all man-
kind. The good lady then, with the preliminary observation
that she might be fairly supposed not to have lived in the
world so long without knowing its ways, communicated a great
many subtleprecepts applicable to the state of courtship, and
confirmed in their wisdom by her own personal experience.
Above all things she commended a strict maidenly reserve, as
being not only" a very laudable thing in itself, but as tending
materially to strengthen and increase a lover's ardor. " And
I never,"' added Mrs. Nickleby, " was more deUghted in my
life than to observe last night, my dear, that your good sense
had already told you this." With which sentiment, and vari-
ous hints of the pleasure she derived from the knowledge
that her daughter inherited so large an instalment of her own
excellent sense and discretion (to nearly the full measure of
wiiich she might hope, with care, to succeed in time\ Mrs.
Nickleby concluded a very long and rather illegible letter.
Poor Kate was well nigh distracted on the receipt of four
closely-written and closely-crossed sides of congratulation on
the ver\' subject which had prevented her closing her eyes all
night, and kept her weeping and watching in her chamber ;
still worse and more trying was the necessit)' of rendering
■V"'
358
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
herself agreeable to Mrs. Wititterly, who, being in low spirits
after the fatigue of the preceding night, of course expected
her companion (else wherefore had she board and salary ?) to
be in the best spirits possible. As to Mr. Wititterly, he went
about all day in a tremor of delight at having shaken hands
with a lord, and having actually asked him to come and see
him in his" own house. The lord himself, not being troubled
to any inconvenient extent with the power of thinking, re-
galed himself with the conversation of Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck, who sharpened their wit by a plentiful indulgence in
varipus costly stimulants at his expense.
It was four in the afternoon — that is, the vulgar afternoon
of the sun and the clock — and Mrs. Wititterly reclined,
according to custom, on the drawing-room sofa, while Kate
read aloud anew novel in three volumes, entitled "The
Lady Flabella," which Alphonse the doubtful had procured
.from the library that very mornii'ig.^ And it was a production
admirably suited to a lady labonng under Mrs. Wititterly's
complaint, seeing that there was not a line in it, from begin-
ning to end, which could, by the most remote contingency,
awaken the smallest excitement in any person breathing.
Kate read on.
" ' Cherizette,' said the Lady Flabella, inserting her mouse-
like feet in the blue satin slippers, which had unwittingly
occasioned the half-playful half-angry altercation between her-
self and the youthful Colonel Befillaire, in the Duke of Mince-
fenille's salon de da/ise on the previous night. ' Cherizette, ma
chere, donnez-moi de reaii-de-Cologiie, s'il Toits p/atf, 711011 eji/a>it.'
" ' Mcrcie — thank you,' said the Lady Flabella, as the live-
ly but devoted Cherizette, plentifully besprinkled- with the
fragrant compound the Lady Flabella's mouc/ioir of finest
cambric, edged with richest lace, and emblazoned at the four
corners with the Flabella crest, and gorgeous heraldic bear-
ings of that noble family; '■ Mercie — that will do.'
" At this instant, while the Lady Flabella yet inhaled that
delicious fragrance by holding the mojuhoir to her exquisite,
but thoughtfully-chiselled nose, the door of the boudoir
(artfully concealed by rich hangings of silken damask, the hue
of Italy's firmament) was thrown open, and with noiseless
tread two valets-de-chambre, clad in sumptuous liveries of
peach-blossom and gold, advanced into the room followed by
a page in has de soie — silk stockings — who, while they re-
mained at some distance making the most graceful obeisances,
NTCITOLAS NJCKLEB V. 359
advanced to the feet of his lovely mistress, and dropping on
one knee presented, on a golden salver gorgeously chased,
a scented />///c't.
" The Lady Flabella, with an agitation she could not re-
press, hastily tore off the envelope and broke the scented seal.
It was from Beftllaire — the young, the slim, the low-voiced —
//d'r<v?w/ Beiillaire."
" Oh, charming ! " interrupted Kate's patroness, who was
sometimes taken Hterary ; " Poetic, really. Read that descrip-
tion again Miss Nickleby."
Kate complied.
" Sweet, indeed ! " said Mrs. Wititterlj-, with a sigh. " So
voluptuous, is it not .'' So soft .■' "
" Yes, I think it is," replied Kate, gently : " very soft."
" Close the book. Miss Nickleby," said Mrs. Wititterly,
" I can hear nothing more to-day. I should be sorry to dis-
turb the impression of that sweet description. Close the
book."
Kate complied, not unwillingly ; and, as she did so, Mrs.
Wititterly raising her glass with a languid hand, remarked,
that she looked pale.
" It was the fright of that — that noise and confusion last
night," said Kate.
" How very odd ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wititterly, with a look
of surprise. And, certainly, when one comes to think of it,
it was very odd that anything should have disturbed a com-
panion. A steam-engine, or other ingenious piece of
mechanism out of order, would have been nothing to it.
" How did you come to know Lord Frederick, and those
other delightful creatures, child ? " asked Mrs. \\'ititterly, still
eyeing Kate through her glass.
"I met them at my uncle's," said Kate, vexed to feel that
she was coloring deeply, but unable to keep down the blood
which rushed to her face whenever she thought of that man.
" Have you known them long ? "
" No," rejoined Kate. " Not long."
" I was very jrladof the opportunity which that respectable
person, your mother, gave us of being known to them," said
Mrs. Wititterly, in a lofty manner. " Some friends of ours
were on the very point of introducing us, which makes it quite
remarkable."
This was said lest Miss Nickleby should grow conceited
on the honor and dignity of having known four great people
360
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
(for Pyke and Pluck were included among the delightful
creatures), whom Mrs. Wititterly did not know. But as the
circumstance had made no impression one way or other upon
Kate's mind, the force of the observation was quite lost upon
her.
"They asked permission to call," said Mrs. Wititterly.
" I gave it them of course."
" Do you expect them to-day ? " Kate ventured to inquire.
Mrs. Wititterly's answer was lost in the noise of a tremen-
dous rapping at the street-door, and, before it had ceased to
vibrate, there drove up a handsome cabriolet, out of which
leaped Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend Lord Frederick.
" They are here now," said Kate, rising and hurr)-ing
away.
" Miss Nickleby ! " cried Mrs. Wititterly, perfectly aghast
at a companion's attempting to quit the room, without her
permission first had and obtained. " Pray don't think of
))
going.
" You are very good ! " replied Kate. " But "
" For goodness' sake, don't agitate me by making me
speak so much," said Mrs. Wititterly, with great sharpness.
" Dear me, Miss Nickleby, I beg '-'
It was in vain for Kate to protest that she was unwell, for
the footsteps of the knockers, whoever they w^ere, were already
on the stairs. She resumed her seat, and had scarcely done
so, when the doubtful page darted into the room and an-
nounced, Mr. Pyke, and Mr. Pluck, and Lord Frederick
Verisopht, and Sir Mulberry Hawk, all at one burst.
" The most extraordinary thing in the world," said Mr.
Pluck, saluting both ladies with the utmost cordiality ; " the
most extraordinarv thins;. As Lord Frederick and Sir Mul-
berry drove up to the door, Pyke and I had that instant
knocked."
"That instant knocked,'' said Pyke.
" No matter how you came, so that you are here," said Mrs.
Wititterly, who, by dint of lying on the same sofa for three
years and a half, had got up a little pantomime of graceful
attitudes, and now threw herself into the most striking of the
series, to astonish the visitors. " I am delighted, I am sure."
" And how is Miss Nickleby ? " said Sir Mulberr}- Hawk,
accosting Kate, in a low voice ; not so low, however, but that
it reached the ears of Mrs Wititterly.
" Why, she complains of suffering; from the fright of last
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
361
night," said the lady. " I am sure, I don't wonder at it, for
my nerves are quite torn to pieces."
" And yet you look," observed Sir Mulberry, turning round ;
" and yet you look "
" Beyond everything," said Mr. Pyke, coming to his
patron's assistance. Of course Mr. Pluck said the same.
" I am afraid Sir Mulberry is a flatterer, my lord," said
Mrs. Wititterly, turning to that young gentleman, who had
been sucking the head of his cane in silence, and staring at
Kate.
" Oh, deyvlish ! " replied my lord. Having given utterance
to which remarkable sentiment, he occupied himself as before.
" Neither does Miss Nickleby look the worse," said Sir
Mulberry, bending his bold gaze upon her. " She was always
handsome, but upon my soul, ma'am, you seem to have
imparted some of your own good looks to her besides."
To judge from the glow which suffused the poor girl's
countenance after this speech, Mrs. Wititterly might, with
some show of reason, have been supposed to have imparted
to it some of that artificial bloom which decorated her own.
Mrs. Wititterly admitted, though not with the best grace in
the world, that Kate (^/i/ look pretty. She began to think too,
that Sir Mulberry was not quite so agreeable a creature as
she had at first supposed him ; for. although a skilful flatterer
is a most delightful companion if you can keep him all to
yourself, his taste becomes very doubtful when he takes to
complimenting other people.
" Pyke," said the watchful Mr. Pluck, observing the effect
which the praise of Miss Nickleby had produced.
" WxU, Pluck," said Pyke.
" Is there anybody," demanded Mr. Pluck, mysteriously,
" anybody you know, whom Mrs. Wititterly's profile reminds
you of?"
" Reminds me of ! " answered Pyke. " Of course there
is."
" Who do you mean ? " said Pluck, in the same mysterious
manner. " The D. of B. ? "
"The C. of B.," replied Pyke, with the faintest trace of a
grin lingering in his countenance. " The beautiful sister is
the countess ; not the duchess."
"True," said Pluck, "the C. of B. The resemblance is
wonderful ? "
" Perfectly startling ! " said Mr. Pyke.
,62 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Here was a state of things ! Mrs. Wititterly was declared,
upon the testimony of two veracious and competent witnesses,
to be the very picture of a countess ! This was one of the
consequences of getting into good society. Why, she might
have moved among grovelUng people for twenty years, and
never heard of it. How could she, indeed ? what did they
know about countesses !
The two gentlemen having by the greediness with which
this little bait was swallowed, tested the extent of Mrs.
Wititterly's appetite for adulation, proceeded to administer
that commodity in very large doses, thus affording to Sir
Mulberry Hawk an opportunity of pestering Miss Nickleby
with questions and remarks, to which she was absolutely
oblii;ed to make some reply. Meanwhile, Lord Frederick
enjoyed unmolested the full flavor of the gold knob at the
top of his cane, as he would have done to the end of the
interview if Mr. Wititterly had not come home, and caused
the conversation to turn to his favorite topic.
" My lord," said Mr. Wititterly, " I am delighted — honored
— ])roud. Be seated again, my lord, pray. I am proud,
indeetl ; most proud."
It was to the secret annoyance of his wife that Mr.
Wititterly said all this, for, although she was bursting with
pride and arrogance, she would have had the illustrious guests
believe that their visit was quite a common occurrence, and
that they had lords and baronets to see them every day in
the week. But Mr. Wititterly's feelings were beyond the
power of suppression.
" It is an honor, indeed ! " said Mr. Wititterly. " Julia,
my soul, you will suffer for this to-morrow."
" Suffer ! " cried Lord Frederick.
"The reaction, my lord, the reaction," said Mr. Wititterly.
" This violent strain upon the nervous system over, my lord,
what ensues ? A sinking, a depression, a lowness, a lassi-
tude, a debility. My lord, if Sir Tumley Snuffim was to see
that delicate creature at this moment, he would not give a —
a — this for her life." In illustration of which remark, Mr.
Wititterly took a pinch of snuff from his box, and jerked it
lightly into the air as an emblem of instability.
" Not that'" said Mr. Wititterly, looking about him with a
serious countenance. " Sir Tumley Snuffim would not give
that for Mrs. Wititterly's existence."
Mr. Wititterly told' this with a kind of sober exultation, as
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 363
if it were no trifling distinction for a man to have a wife in
such a desperate state, and Mrs. Wititterly sighed and looked
on, as if she felt the honor, but had determined to bear it as
meekly as might be.
" Mrs. Wititterly," said her husband, " is Sir Tumley
SnufBm's favorite patient. I believe 1 may venture to say,
that Mrs. Wititterly is the first person who took the new
medicine which is supposed to have destroyed a family at
Kensington Gravel Pits. I believe she was. If 1 am wrong,
Julia, my dear, you will correct me."
" I believe I was," said Mrs. Wititterly, in a faint voice.
As there appeared to be some doubt in the mind of his
patron how he could best join in this conversation, the inde-
fatigable Mr. Pyke threw himself into the breach, and, by
way of saying something to the point, inquired — with reference
to the aforesaid medicine — whether it was nice ?
" No, sir, it was not. It had not even that recommenda-
tion," said Mr. W.
" Mrs. Wititterly is quite a martyr," observed Pyke, with
a complimentary bow.
" I //i/'/i/c 1 am," said Mrs. Wititterly, smiling,
" I think you are, my dear Julia," replied her husband, in
a tone which seemed to say that he was not vain, but still
must insist upon their privileges. " If anybody, my lord,"
added Mr. Wititterly, wheeling round to the nobleman, "will
produce to me a greater martyr than Mrs. Wititterly, all I can
say is, that I shall be glad to see that martyr, whether male
or female — that's all, my lord."
Pyke and Pluck promptly remarked that certainly nothing
could be fairer than that ; and the call having been by this
time protracted to a very great length, they obeyed Sir Mul-
berry's look, and rose to go. This brought Sir Mulberry
himself and Lord Frederick on their legs also. Many pro-
testations of friendship, and expressions anticipative of the
pleasure which must inevitably flow from so happy an ac-
quaintance, were exchanged, and the visitors departed, with
renewed assurances that at all times and seasons the mansion
of the Wititterlys would be honored by receiving them beneath
its roof.
That they came at all times and seasons — that they dined
there one day, supped the next, dnied again on the next, and
were constantly to and fro on all — that they made parties to
visit public places, and met by accident at lounges — that upon
364 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,
all these occasions Miss Nickleby was exposed to the con-
stant and unremitting persecution of Sir Mulberry Hawk, who
now began to feel his character, even in the estimation of his
two dependants, involved in the successful reduction of her
pride — that she had no intervals of peace or rest, except at
those hours when she could sit in her solitary room, and weep
over the trials of the day — -all these were consequences
naturally flowing from the well-laid plans of Sir Mulberry,
and their able execution by the auxiliaries. Pike and Pluck.
And thus for a fortnight matters went on. That anv but
the weakest and silliest of people could have seen in one
interview that Lord Frederick Verisopht, though he was a
lord, and Sir Mulberry Hawk, though he was a baronet, were
not persons accustomed to be the best possible companions,
and were certainly not calculated by habits, manners, tastes,
or conversation, to shine with any very great lustre in the
society of ladies, need scarcely be remarked. But with Mrs.
Wititterly the two titles were all-sufficient ; coarseness became
humor, vulgarity softened itself down into the most charming
eccentricity ; insolence took the guise of an easy absence of
reserve, attainable only by those who had had the good for-
tune to mix with high folks.
If the mistress put such a construction upon the behavior
of her new friends, what could the companion urge against
them 1 If they accustomed themselves to very' little restraint
before the lady of the house, with how much more freedom
could they address her paid dependant ! Nor was e\en this
the worst. As the odious Sir Mulberrv Hawk attached him-
self to Kate with less and less of disguise, Mrs. Wititterly
began to grow jealous of the superior attractions of Miss
Nickleby. If this feeling had led to her banishment from the
drawing-room when such company was there, Kate would have
been only too happy and willing that it should have existed,
but unfortunately for her she possessed that native grace and
true gentility of manner, and those thousand nameless accom-
plishments which give to female society its greatest charm ; if
these be valuable anywhere, they were especially so where
the lady of the house was a mere animated doll. The conse-
quence was, that Kate had the double mortification of being
an indispensable part of the circle when Sir Mulberry' and his
friends were there, and of being exposed, on that very
account, to all Mrs. Wilitterly's ill-humors and caprices when
they were gone. She became utterly and completely miserable.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
365
Mrs. Witltterly had ne\-er thrown off the mask with regard
to Sir Mulberry, but when she was more than usually out of
temper, attributed the circumstance, as ladies sometimes do,
to nervous indisposition. However, as the dreadful idea that
Lord Frederick Verisopht also was somewhat taken with Kate,
and that she, Mrs. Wititterly, was quite a secondary person,
dawned upon that lady's mind and gradually developed itself,
she became possessed with a large quantity of highly proper
and most virtuous indignation, and felt it her duty, as a
married lady and a moral member of societ)% to mention the
circumstance to " the young person " without delay.
Accordingly Mrs. Wititterly broke ground next morning,
during a pause in the novel-reading.
"Miss Nickleby," said Mrs. Wititteriy, "I wish to speak
to you very gravely. I am sorry to have to do it, upon my
word I am very sorry, but you leave me no alternative, Miss
Nickleby." Here Mrs. Wititterly tossed her head — not
passionately, only virtuously — and remarked, w'ith some
appearance of excitement, that she feared that palpitation of
the heart was coming on again.
" Your behavior, Miss Nickleby," resumed the lady, " is
very far from pleasing me — very far. I am very anxious
indeed that you should do well, but you may depend upon it,
Niss Nickleby. you will not, if you go on as you do."
" Ma'am ! " exclaimed Kate, proudly.
" Don't agitate me by speaking in that wa\% Miss Nickleby,
don't," said Mrs. Wititterly, with some violence, ""or you'll
compel me to ring the bell."
Kate looked at her, but said nothing.
" You needn't suppose," resumed Mrs. Wititterly, " that
your looking at me in that way. Miss Nickleby, will prevent
my saying what I am going to say, which I feel to be a
religious duty. You needn't direct your glances towards me,"
said Mrs. Wititterly, with a sudden burst of spite ; / am not
Sir Mulberry, no, nor Lord Frederick Verisopht, Miss
Nickleby ; nor am I Mr. Pyke, nor Mr. Pluck either."
Kate looked at her again, but less steadily than before ;
and resting her elbow on the table, covered her eyes with her
hand.
" If such things had been done when /was a young girl."
said Mrs. Wititterly (this, by the way, must have been some
little time before), " I don't suppose anybody would have be-
lieved it."
366
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I don't think they would," murmured Kate. " I do not
think anybody would believe, without actually knowing it,
what I seem doomed to undergo ! "
" Don't talk to me of being doomed to undergo, Miss
Nickleby, if you please," said Mrs. Wititterly, with a shrillness
of tone quite surprising in so great an invalid. " I will not
be answered. Miss Nicklebv. I am not accustomed to be
answered, nor will I permit it for an instant. Do you hear ? "
she added, waiting with some apparent inconsistency for an
answer.
" I do hear you, ma'am," replied Kate, " with surprise ;
with greater surprise than I can express."
"I have always considered you a particularly well-behaved
young person for your station in life," said Mrs. Wititterly ;
" and as you are a person of healthy appearance, and neat in
your dress and so forth, I have taken an interest in you, as I
do still, considering that I owe a sort of duty to that respect-
able old female, your mother. For these reasons, Miss
Nickleby, I must tell you once for all, and begging 3'ou to
mind what I say, that I must insist upon your immediately
altering your very forward behavior to the gentlemen who
visit at this house. It really is not becoming," said Mrs,
Wititterly, closing her chaste eyes as she spoke ; " it is im-
proper, quite improper."
" Oh ! " cried Kate, looking upwards and clasping her
hands ; " is not this, is not this, too cruel, too hard to bear !
Is it not enough that I should have suffered as I have, night
and day ; that I should almost ha\-e sunk in my own estima-
tion from very shame of having been brought into contact
with such people ; but must I also be exposed to this unjust
and most unfounded charge ! "
" You will have the goodness to recollect. Miss Nickleby,"
said Mrs. Wititterly, " that when you use such terms as
'unjust,' and 'unfounded,' you charge me, in effect, with
stating that which is untrue."
" I do," said Kate, with honest indignation. " Whether
you make this accusation of yourself, or at the prompting of
others, is alike to me. I say it is vilely, grossly, wilfully
untrue. Is it possible !" cried Kate, "that anyone of my
own sex can have sat by, and not have seen the misery these
men have caused me ! Is it possible that you, ma'am, can
have been present, and failed to mark the insulting freedom
that their every look bespoke .-' Is it possible that you can
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 367
have avoided seeing, that these hbertines, in their utter dis-
respect for you, and utter disregard of all gentlemanly be-
havior, and almost of decency, have had but one object in
introducing themselves here, and that the furtherance of their
designs uoon a friendless, helpless girl, who, without this
humiliating confession, might have hoped to receive from one
so much her senior something like womanly aid and sympathy ?
I do not — I cannot believe it ! "
If poor Kate had possessed the slightest knowledge of the
world, she certainly would not have ventured, even in the
excitement into which she had been lashed, upon such an
injudicious speech as this. Its effect was precisely what a
more experienced observer would have foreseen. Mrs.
Wititterly received the attack upon her veracity with ex-
emplary calmness, and listened with the most heroic fortitude
to Kate's account of her own sufferings. But allusion being
made to her being held in disregard by the gentlemen, she
evinced violent emotion, and this blow was no sooner followed
up by the remark concerning her seniority, than she fell back
upon the sofa, uttering dismal screams.
"What is the matter ! " cried Mr. Wititterly, bouncing into
the room. "Heavens, what do I see! Julia! Julia! look
up, my life, look up ! "
But Julia looked down most perseveringly, and screamed
still louder ! so Mr. Wititterly rang the bell, and danced in a
frenzied manner round the sofa on which Mrs. Wititterly lay ;
uttering perpetual cries for Sir Tumley Snuffim, and never
once leaving off to ask for any explanation of the scene be-
fore him.
" Run for Sir Tumley," cried Mr. Wititterly, menacing the
page v.ith both fists. "I knew it Miss Nickleby," he said,
looking round with an air of melancholy triumph, "that
society has been too much for her. This is all soul, you
know, every bit of it." With this assurance Mr. \\'ititterly
took up the prostrate form of Mrs. Wititterly, and carried her
bodily off to bed.
Kate waited until Sir Tumley Snuffim had paid his visit
and looked in with a report, that, through tl;e special inter-
position of a merciful Trovidence (thus spake Sir Tumley),
Mrs. Wititterly had gone to sleep. She then hastily attired
herself for walking, and lea\-ing word that she should return
within a couple of hours, hurried away towards her uncle's
house.
368
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
It had been a good day with Ralph Nickleby, quite a
lucky day. As he walked to and fro in his little back room
with his hands clasped behind him, adding up in his own
mind all the sums that had been, or would be, netted from
the business done since morning, his mouth was drawn into a
hard stern smile ; while the firmness of the lines and curves
that made it up, as well as the cunning glance of his cold
bright eye, seemed to tell, that if any resolution or cunning
would increase the profits, they would not fail to be exerted
for the purpose.
" Very good ! " said Ralph, in allusion, no doubt, to some
proceeding of the day. " He defies the usurer, does he ?
Well, we shall see. ' Honesty is the best policy,' is it ! We"ll
try that too."
He stopped, and then walked on again.
. " He is content," said Ralph, relaxing into a smile, "to set
his known character and conduct against the power of money.
Dross, as he calls it. Why, what a dull blockhead this fellow
must be ! Dross too, dross ! — Who's that ? "
" Me," said Newman Noggs, looking in. "Your niece."
" What of her } " asked Ralph sharply.
"She's here."
" Here ? "
Newman jerked his head towards his little room, to signify
that she was waiting there.
" What does she want t " asked Ralph.
" I don't know," rejoined Newman. " Shall I ask ? " he
added quickly.
" No," replied Ralph. " Show her in ! Stay." He hastily
put away a padlocked cash-box that was on the table, and
substituted in its stead an empty purse. " There," said Ralph.
" Now she may come in."
Newman, with a grim smile at this manoeuvre, beckoned
the young lady to advance, and having placed a chair for her,
retired ; looking stealthily over his shoulder at Ralph as he
limped slowly out.
" Well," said Ralph, roughly enough ; but still with some-
thing more of kindness in his manner than he would have
exhibited towards anybody else. "Well, my — dear. What
now ? "
Kate raised her eyes, which were filled with tears ; and
with an effort to master her emotion, strove to speak, but in
vain. So drooping her head again, she remained silent. Her
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 360
face was hidden from ]iis view, but Ralph could see that she
was weeping.
" I can guess the cause of tiiis ! " thought Ralph, after
looking at her for sometime in silence. " I can — I can — ^guess
the cause. Well 1 Well! " thought Ralph — for the moment
quite disconcerted, as he watched the anguish of his beautiful
niece. " Where is the harm .' Only a few tears ; and it's an
excellent lesson for her, an excellent lesson."
"What is the matter?" asked Ralph, drawing a chair
opposite, and sitting down.
He was rather taken aback by the sudden firmness with
which Kate looked up and answered him.
"The matter which brings me to you, sir," she said, "is
one which should call the blood up into your cheeks, and
make you burn to hear, as it does me to tell. I have been
wronged ; my feelings have been outraged, insulted, wounded
past all healing, and by your friends."
" Friends ! " cried Ralph, sternly. "/ have no friends,
girl."
"By the men I saw here, then," returned Kate, quickly.
" If they were no friends of yours, and you knew what they
were, — oh, the more shame on you, uncle, for bringing me
among them. To have subjected me to what I was "exposed
to here, through any misplaced confidence or imperfect know-
ledge of your guests, would have required some strong excuse ;
but if you did it — as I now believe you did — knowing them
well, it was most dastardly and cruel."
Ralph drew back in utter amazement at this plain speak-
ing, and regarded Kate with the sternest look. But she met
his gaze proudly and firmly, and although her face was very
pale, it looked more noble and handsome, lighted up as it was,
than it had ever appeared before.
" There is some of that boy's blood in you, I see," said
Ralph, speaking in his harshest tones, as something in the
flashing eye reminded him of Nicholas at their last meeting.
" I hope there is ! " replied Kate. " I should be proud to
know^ it. I am 'young, uncle, and all the difficulties and
miseries of my situation have kept it down, but I have been
roused to-day beyond all endurance, and come what may, /
w/// 7iof, as I am your brother's child, bear these insults
longer."
" What insults, girl ? " demanded Ralph sharply.
"Remember what took place here, and ask yourself,"
24
370
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
replied Kate, coloring deeply. " Uncle you must — I am sure
you will — release me from such vile and degrading companion-
ship as I am exposed to now. I do not mean," said Kate,
hurrying to the old man, and laying her arm upon his shoulder;
" I do not mean to be angry and violent — I beg your pardon
if I have seemed so, dear uncle, — but you do not know what
I have suffered, you do not indeed. You cannot tell what
the heart of a young girl is — I have no right to expect you
should ; but when I tell you that I am wretched, and that my
heart is breaking, I am sure you will help me. I am sure, I
am sure you will ! "
Ralph looked at her for an instant ; then turned away his
head, and beat his foot nervously upon the ground.
" I have gone on day after day," said Kate, bending over
him, and timidly placing her little hand in his, "in the hope
that this persecution would cease ; I have gone on day after
day, compelled to assume the appearance of cheerfulness,
when I was most unhappy. I have had no counsellor, no
adviser, no one to protect me. Mama supposes that these
are honorable men, rich and distinguished, and how caJi I —
how can I undeceive her — when she is so happy in these
little delusions, which are the only happiness she has .'' The
lady with whom you placed me, is not the person to whom I
could confide matters of so much delicacy, and I have come
at last to you, the only friend I have at hand — almost the
only friend I have at all — to intreat and implore you to assist
me."
" How can I assist you, child ? " said Ralph, rising from
his chair, and pacing up and down the room in his old
attitude.
"You have influence with one of these men, I know"
rejoined Kate, emphatically. " Would not a word from you
induce them to desist from this unmanly course .'' "
" No," said Ralph, suddenly turning ; " at least — that — I
cariXaajLit, if it would."
^'^' Can't say it ! "
" No," said Ralph, coming to a dead stop, and clasping
his hands more tightly behind him. " i can't say it."
Kate fell back a step or two, and looked at him, as if in
doubt whether she had heard aright.
"We are connected in business," said Ralph, poising him-
self alternately on his toes and heels, and looking coolly in his
niece's face, "in business, and 1 can't afford to offend them^
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
371
What is it after all ? We ha\c all our trials, and this is one
of yours. Some girls would be proud to have such gallants at
their feet " '-■■■i ,,....ini».-«i.iMiii.i»ir.i.,i. , .^..^Ktrnw^ajw^a^ww..
" Proud ! " cried Kate.
"I don't say," rejoined Ralph, raising his fore-finger,
"but that you do right to despise them ; no, you show your
good sense in that, as indeed I knew from the first you would.
Well. In all other respects you are comfortably bestowed.
It's not much to bear. If this young lord does dog your foot-
steps, and whisper his drivelling inanities in your ears, what
of it } It's a dishonnrablp^ y3';<;ipn So be it ; it won't last
long. S'ome "other novelty will spring up one day, and you
will be released. In the meantime "
" In the meantime," interrupted Kate, with becoming
pride and indignation, " I am to be the scorn of my own sex,
and the toy of the other; justly condemned by all women of
right feelmgrn^nd'clespised by all honest and honorable men ;
sunken in mx.Qwn esteem, and degraded m every eye that
looks upon me. No, not if I work my fingers to the bone, not
if I am driven to the roughest and hardest labor. Do not
mistake me. I will not dis;rrace vour recommendation. I will
remain in the house in which it placed me, until I am entitled
to leave it by the terms of my engagement ; though, mind, I
see these men no more ! When I quit it, I will hide myself
from them and you, and, striving to support my mother by
hard service, I will live, at least, in peace, and trust in God to
help me."
With these words, she waved her hand, and quitted the
room, leaving Ralph Nickleby motionless as a statue.
The surprise with which Kate, as she closed the room-
door, beheld, close beside it, Newman Noggs standing bolt
upright in a little niche in the wall like some scarecrow or
Guy Faux laid up in winter cjuarters, almost occasioned her
to call aloud. But, Newman, laying his finger upon his lips,
she had the presence of mind to refrain.
" Don't," said Newman, gliding out of his recess, and ac-
companying her across the hall. "Don't cr}', don't cry." Two
very large tears, by the bye, were running down Newman's
face, as he spoke.
" I see how it is," said poor Noggs, drawing from his
pocket what seemed to be a very old duster, and wiping Kate's
ej-es with it, as gently as if she were an infant. " You're
giving way now. Yes, }'es, very good ; that's right, I like
372
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
that. It was right not to give way before him. Yes, yes !
Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, yes. Poor thing ! "
With these disjointed exclamations, Newman wiped his
own eyes with the afore-mentioned duster, and, limping to the
street-door, opened it to let her out.
"Don't cry any more," whispered Newman. " I shall see
you soon. Ha ! ha ! ha ! And so shall somebody else too.
Yes, yes. Ho ! ho ! ho ! "
"God bless you," answered Kate, hurr}'ing out, "God
bless you."
"Same to you," rejoined Newman, opening the door again
a little way, to say so. " Ha, ha, ha ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! "
And Newman Noggs opened the door once again to nod
cheerfully, and laugh — and shut it, to shake his head mourn-
fully, and cry.
Ralph remained in the same attitude till he heard the
noise of the closing door, when he shrugged his shoulders, and
after a few turns about the room — hasty at first, but gradually
becoming slower, as he relapsed into himself — sat down before
his desk.
It is one of those problems of human nature, which may
be ifotcnr "(FivTiT.'biit lint sfi!\ e:r;-^a]tTibugh Ralph felt "no re-
morse at that niniiicnt for his conduct towards the innocent,
truc-hcancd girl ; although his lil)crline clients had doiiL- ]-;re-
cisely what he had expected, precisely what he most wished,
ahcrpfe"cis:elywhat Avould tend most to his advantagcrstill he
hated them for doing it, from the very bottom of Iiis soul.
"Ugh!" said Ralph,' scowling round, and shaking his
clenched hand as the faces of the two profligates rose up be-
fore his mind ; " you shall pay for this. Oh ! you shall pay
for this ! "
As the usurer turned for consolation to his books and
papers, a performance was going on outside his office-door,
which would have occasioned him no small surprise, if he
could by any means have become acquainted with it.
Newman Noggs was the sole actor. He stood at a little
distance from the door, with his face towards it ; and with the
sleeves of his coat turned back at the wrists, was occupied in
bestowing the most vigorous, scientific, and straightforward
blows upon the empty air.
At first sight, this would have appeared merely a wise pre-
caution in a man of sedentary habits, with the view of opening
the chest and strengthening the muscles of the arms. But
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
373
the intense eagerness and joy depicted in the face of Newman
Noggs, which was suffused with perspiration ; the surprising
energy with which he directed a constant succession of blows
towards a particular panel about five feet eight from the
ground, and still worked away in the most untiring and per-
severing manner ; would have sufficiently explained to the
attentive observer, that his imagination was threshing to with-
in an inch of his life, his body's most active employer, Mr.
Ralph Nickleby.
CHAPTER XXIX.
OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF NICHOLAS, AND CERTAIN INTERNAL
DIVISIONS IN THE COMPANY OF MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES.
The unexpected success and favor with which his experi-
ment at Portsmouth had been received, induced ]\Ir. Crumm-
ies to prolong his stay in that town for a fortnight beyond the
period he had originally assigned for the duration of his visit,
during which time Nicholas personated a vast variety of
characters with undiminished success, and attracted so many
people to the theatre who had never been seen there before,
that a benefit was considered by the manager a ven,- promising
speculation. Nicholas assenting to the terms proposed, the
benefit .was had, and by it he realized no less a sum than
twenty pounds.
Possessed of this unexpected wealth, his first act was to
enclose to honest John Browdie the amount of his friendly
loan, which he accompanied with many expressions of grati-
tude and esteem, and many cordial wishes for hisraatrim.onial
happiness. To Newman Noggs he for\varded one half of the
sum he had realized, entreating him to take an opportunit)' of
handing it to Kate in secret, and conveying to her the warm-
est assurance of his love and affection. He made no mention
of the way in which he had employed himself ; merely inform-
ing Newman that a letter addressed to him under his
assumed name at the Post Office, Portsmouth, would readily
find him, and entreating that worthy friend to write full par-
ticulars of the situation of his mother and sister, and an
274 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
account of all the grand things that Ralph Nickleby had done
for them since his departure from London.
" You are out of spirits," said Smike, on the night after
the letter had been dispatched.
" Not 1 ! " rejoined Nicholas, with assumed gayety, for the
confession would have made the boy miserable all night ; " I
was thinking about my sister, Smike."
" Sister ! "
"Ay."
"Is she like you ?" inquired Smike.
"Why, so they say," replied Nicholas, laughing, "only a
great deal handsomer."
" She must be very beautiful," said Smike, after thinking
a little while with his hands folded together, and his eyes
bent upon his friend.
" Anybody who didn't know you as well as I do, my dear
fellow, would say you were an accomplished courtier," said
Nicholas.
" I don't even know what that is," replied Smike, shaking
his head. " Shall I ever see your sister .■' "
"To be sure," cried Nicholas; "we shall all be together
one of these days — when we are rich, Smike."
" How is it that you, who are so kind and good to me,
have nobody to be kind to you ?" asked Smike. "I cannot
make that out."
" Why, it is a long stor)'," replied Nicholas, " and one you
would have some difficulty in comprehending, I fear. I have
an enemy — you understand what that is .'' "
" Oh, yes, I understand that," said Smike.
" Well, it is owing to him," returned Nicholas. " He is rich,
and not so easily punished as your old enemy, Mr. Squeers.
He is my uncle, but he is a villain, and has done me wrong."
" Has he though ? " asked Smike, bending eagerly forward.
" What is his name ? Tell me his name.
" Ralph— Ralph Nickleby."
" Ralph Nickleby," repeated Smike. " Ralph. I'll get
that name by heart."
He had nuittered it over to himself some twenty times,
when a loud knock at the door disturbed him from his occu-
pation. Before he could open it, Mr. Folair, the pantomimist,
thrust in his head.
Mr. Folair's head was usually decorated with a very round
hat, unusually high in the crown, and curled up quite tight in
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 375
the brims. On the present occasion he wore it very much on
one side, with the back part forward in consequence of its
being the least rusty ; round his neck he wore a tiaming red
worsted comforter, whereof the straggUng ends peeped out
beneath his threadbare Newmarket coat, which was very tight
and buttoned all the way up. He carried in his hand one
very dirty glove, and a cheap dress cane with a glass handle ;
in short, his whole appearance was unusually dashing, and
demonstrated a far more scrupulous attention to his toilet,
than he was in the habit of bestowing upon it.
"Good-evening, sir," said Mr. Folair, taking off the tall
hat, and running his fingers through his hair. " I bring a
communication. Hem ! "
" From whom and what about ? " inquired Nicholas. " You
are unusually mysterious to-night."
" Cold, perhaps," returned Mr. Folair, " cold, perhaps.
That is the fault of my position — not of myself, Mr. Johnson.
My position as a mutual friend requires it, sir." Mr. Folair
paused with a most impressive look, and diving into the hat,
before noticed, drew from thence a small piece of whity-brown
paper curiously folded, whence he brought forth a note which
it had served to keep clean, and handing it over to Nicholas,
said —
" Have the goodness to read that, sir."
Nicholas, in a state of much amazement, took the note
and broke the seal, glancing at Mr. Folair as he did so, who,
knitting his brow and pursing up his mouth with great dignity,
was sitting with his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the ceiling.
It was directed to blank Johnson, Esq., by favor of Augus-
tus Folair, Esq. ; and the astonishment of Nicholas was in no
degree lessened, when he found it to be couched in the fol-
lowing: laconic terms :
'O
" Mr. Lenville presents his kind regards to Mr. Johnson,
and will feel obliged if he will inform him at what hour to-
morrow morning it will be most convenient to him to meet Mr.
L. at the theatre, for the purpose of having his nose pulled in
the presence of the company.
" Mr. Lenville requests Mr. Johnson not to neglect making
an appointment, as he has invited two or three professional
friends to witness the ceremony, and cannot disappoint them
upon any account whatever.
" Portsmouth^ Tuesday night."
376 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Indignant as he was at this impertinence, there was some-
thing so exquisitely absurd in such a cartel of defiance, that
Nicholas was obliged to bite his lip and read the note over
two or three times before he could muster sufiicient gravity
and sternness to address the hostile messenger, who had not
taken his eyes from the ceiling, nor altered the expression of
his face in the slightest degree.
" Do you know the contents of this note, sir ? " he asked,
at length.
" Yes," rejoined Mr. Folair, looking round for an instant,
and immediately carrying his eyes back again to the ceil-
ing.
" And how dare you bring it here, sir ? " asked Nicholas,
tearing it into very little pieces, and jerking it in a shower
towards the messenger. " Had you no fear of being kicked
down stairs, sir ? "
Mr. Folair turned his head — now ornamented with several
fragments of the note — towards Nicholas, and with the same
imperturbable dignity, briefly replied " No."
" Then," said Nicholas, taking up the tall hat and tossing
it towards the door, "you had better follow that article of
your dress, sir, or you may find yourself very disagreeably
deceived, and that within a dozen seconds."
" I say, Johnson," remonstrated Mr. Folair, suddenly los-
ing all his dignity, " none of that, you know. No tricks with
a gentleman's wardrobe."
"Leave the room," returned Nicholas. " How could you
presume to come here on such an errand, you scoundrel } "
" Pooh ! pooh ! " said Mr. Folair, unwinding his comforter,
and gradually getting himself out of it. " There — that's
enough."'
"Enough ! " cried Nicholas, advancing towards him.
" Take yourself off, sir."
" Pooh ! pooh ! I tell you," returned Mr. Folair, waving
his hand in deprecation of any further wrath ; " I wasn't in
earnest. I only brought it in joke."
" You had better be careful how you indulge in such jokes
again," said Nicholas, "or you may find an allusion to pull-
ing noses rather a dangerous reminder for the subject of your
facetiousness. Was it written in joke, too, pray? "
" No, no, that's the best of it," returned the actor ; " right
down earnest — honor bright."
Nicholas could not repress a smile at the odd figure before
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
377
him, wliicli, at all times more calculated to provoke mirth
than anger, was especially so at that moment, when witli one
knee upon the ground, Mr. Folair twirled his old hat round
upon his hand, and affected the extremest agony lest any of the
nap should have been knocked off — an ornament which it is
almost superfluous to say, it had not boasted for many months.
" Come sir," said Nicholas, laughing in spite of himself.
" Have the goodness to explain."
"Why, I'll tell you how it is," said Mr. Folair, sitting him-
self down in a chair with great coolness. " Since you came
here Lenville has done nothing but second business, and, in-
stead of having a reception every night as he used to have,
they have let him come on as if he was nobody."
" What do you mean by a reception ? " asked Nicholas.
. " Jupiter ! " exclaimed Mr. Folair, " what an unsophiscated
shepherd you are, Johnson ! Why, applause from the house
when you first come on. So he has gone on night after night
never getting a hand, and you getting a couple of rounds at
least, and sometimes three, till at length he got quite desper-
ate and had half a mind last night to play Tybalt with a real
sword, and pink you — not dangerously, but just enough to lay
you up for a month or two."
"Very considerate," remarked Nicholas.
" Yes, I think it was under the circumstances ; his profes-
sional reputation being at stake," said Mr. Folair, quite seri-
ously. " But his heart failed him, and he cast about for some
other way of annoying you, and making himself popular at
the same time — for that's the point. Notoriety, notoriety is
the thing. Bless you, if he pinked you," said Mr Folair, stop-
ping to make a calculation in his mind, " it would have been
worth — ah, it would have been worth eight or ten shillings a
a week to him. All the town would have come to see the
actor who nearly killed a man by mistake ; I shouldn't wonder
if it had got him an engagement in London. However, he
was obliged to try some other mode of getting popular, and
this one occurred to him. It's a clever idea, really. If you had
shown the white feather, and let him pull your nose, he'd have
got it into the paper ; if you had sworn the peace against him,
it would have been in the paper too, and he'd have been just
as much talked about as you — don't you see ? "
"Oh certainly," rejoined Nicholas; "but suppose I were
to turn the tables, and pull Ais nose, what then ? Would that
make his fortune .'' "
- - 8 NICHOLAS NIC /CLE B Y.
"Why, I don't think it would," replied Mr. Folair, scratch-
ino- his head, " because there wouldn't be any romance about
it, and he wouldn't be favorably known. To tell you the
truth though he didn't calculate much upon that, for you're
always so mild spoken, and are so popular among the women,
that we didn't suspect you of showing fight. If you did, how-
ever, he has a way of getting out of it easily, depend upon
that."
" Has he ? " rejoined Nicholas "we will try to-morrow morn-
ing. In the meantime, you can give whatever account of our
interview you like best. Good-night."
As Mr. Folair was pretty well known among his fellow-
actors for a man who delighted in mischief, and was by no
means scrupulous, Nicholas had not much doubt but that he
had secretly prompted the tragedian in the course he li^d
taken, and, moreover, that he would have carried his mission
with a very high hand if he had not been disconcerted by the
very unexpected demonstrations with which it had been re-
ceived. It was not worth his while to be serious with him,
however, so he dismissed the pantomimist, with a gentle hint
that if he offended again it would be under the penalty of a
broken head ; and Mr. Folair taking the caution in exceed-
ingly good part, walked away to confer with his principal, and
give him such an account of his proceedings as he might think
best calculated to carry on the joke.
He had no doubt reported that Nicholas was in a state of
extreme bodily fear : for when that young gentleman walked
Avith much deliberation down to the theatre next morning at
the usual hour, he found all the company assembled in evident
expectation, and Mr. Lenville, \yilh his severest stage face,
sitting majestically on a table whistling defiance.
Now the ladies were on the side of Nicholas, and the gen-
tlemen (being jealous) were on the side of the disappointed
tragedian ; so that the latter formed a little group about the
redoubtable Mr. Lenville, and the former looked on at a litde
distance in some trepidation and anxiety. On Nicholas stop-
ping to salute them, Mr. Lenville laughed a scornful laugh,
and made some general remark touching the natural history of
puppies.
" Oh ! " said Nicholas looking quietly round, " are you
there ? "
" Slave ! " returned Mr. Lenville, fiourishing his right arm
and approaching Nicholas with a theatrical stride. But some-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
379
how he appeared just at that moment a little startled, as if
Nicholas did not look quite so frightened as he had expected,
and came all at once to an awkward halt, at which the assem-
bled ladies burst into a shrill laugh.
" Object of my scorn and hatred ! " said Mr. Lenville, " I
hold ye in coniempt."
Nicholas laughed in very unexpected enjoyment of this
performance ; and the ladies, by way of encouragement,
laughed louder than before ; whereat Mr. Lenville assumed
his bitterest smile, and expressed his opinion that they were
" minions."
" Uut they shall not protect ye ! " said the tragedian, taking
an upward look at Nicholas, beginning at his boots and
ending at the crown of his head, and then a downward one
beginning at the crown of his head, and ending at his boots —
which two looks, as ever)'body knows express defiance on the
stage. " They shall not protect ye — boy ! "
Thus speaking, Mr. Lenville folded his arms, and treated
Nicholas to that expression of face with which, in melo-dra-
matic performances, he was in the habit of regarding the tyr-
anical kings when they said, " Away with him to the deepest
dungeon beneath the castle moat ; " and which, accompanied
with a little jingling of fetters, had been known to produce
great effects in its time.
Whether it was the absence of fetters or not, it made no
very deep impression on Mr. Lenville's adversary, however,
but rather seemed to increase the good humor expressed in
his countenance ; in which stage of the contest, one or two
gentlemen, who had come out expressly to witness the pulling
of Nicholas's nose, grew impatient, murmuring that if it were
to be done at all it had better be done at once, and that if
Mr. Lenville didn't mean to do it he had better say so, and
not keep them waiting there. Thus urged, the tragedian ad-
justed the cuff of his right coat sleeve for the performance of
the operation, and walked in a very stately manner up to Nich-
olas, who suffered him to approach to within th.e requisite dis-
tance, and then, without the smallest discomposure, knocked
him down.
Before the discomfited tragedian could raise his head from
the boards, Mrs. Lenville (who, as has been before hinted, was
in an interesting state) rushed from the rear rank of ladies,
and uttering a piercing scream threw herself upon the body.
" Do you see this, monster ? Do you see this ? " cried Mr.
28o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Lenville, sitting up, and pointing to his prostrate lady, who
was holding him very tight round the waist.
"Come," said Nicholas, nodding his head, "apologize for
the insolent note you wrote to me last night, and waste no
more time in talking."
" Never 1 " cried Mr. Lenville.
" Yes — yes — yes ! " screamed his wife, " For my sake —
for mine, Lenville — forego all idle forms, unless you would see
me a blighted corse at your feet."
" This is affecting ! " said Mr. Lenville, looking round him,
and drawing the back of his hand across his eyes. " The ties
of nature are strong. The weak husband and the father — the
father that is yet to be — relents. I apologize."
"Humbly and submissively?" said Nicholas.
" Humbly and submissively," returned the tragedian,
scowling upward. " But only to save her, — for a time will
come "
" Very good," said Nicholas ; " I hope Mrs. Lenville may
have a good one ; and when it does come, and you are a
father, you shall retract it if you have the courage. There.
Be careful, sir, to what lengths your jealousy carries you an-
other time ; and be careful, also, before you venture too far,
to ascertain your rival's temper." With this parting advice
Nicholas picked up Mr. Lenville's ash stick which had flown
out of his hand, and breaking it in half, threw him the pieces
and withdrew.
The profoundest deference was paid to Nicholas that
night, and the people who had been most anxious to have his
nose pulled in the morning, embraced occasions of taking him
aside, and telling him with great feeling, how very friendly
they took it that he should have treated that Lenville so prop-
erly, who was a most unbearable fellow, and on whom they
had all, by a remarkable coincidence, at one time or other con-
templated the infliction of condign punishment, which they
had only been restrained from administering by considera-
tions of mercy ; indeed, to judge from the invariable termina-
tion of all these stories, there never was such a charitable and
kind-hearted set of people as the male members of Mr.
Crummles's company.
Nicholas bore his triumph, as he had his success in the
little world of the theatre, with the utmost moderation and
good humor. The crest-fallen Mr. Lenville made an expiring
effort to obtain revenge by sending a boy into the gallery to
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 381
hiss, but he fell a sacrifice to popular indignation, and was
promptly turned out without having his money back.
"Well, Smike," said Nicholas when the first piece was
over, and he had almost finished dressing to go home, " is
there any letter yet ? "
" Yes," replied Smike, " I got this one from the post-
ofifice."
" From Newman Noggs," said Nicholas, casting his eye
upon the cramped direction ; " it's no easy matter to make
his writing out. Let me see — let me see."
Bv dint of poring over the letter for half an hour, he
contrived to make himself master of the contents, which were
certainly not of a nature to set his mind at ease. Newman
took upon himself to send back the ten pounds, observing
that he had ascertained that neither Mrs. Nickleby nor Kate
was in actual want of money at the moment, and that a time
might shortly come when Nicholas might want it more. He
entreated him not be alarmed at what he was about to say ; —
there was no bad news — they were in good health — but he
thought circumstances might occur, or were occurring, which
would render it absolutely necessary that Kate should have
her brother's protection, and if so, Newman said, he would
write to him to that effect, either by the next post or the next
but one.
Nicholas read this passage very often, and the more he
thought of it the more he began to fear some treachery upon
the part of Ralph. Once or twice he felt tempted to repair
to London at all hazards without an hour's delay, but a little
reflection assured him that if such a step were necessar}-, New-
man would have spoken out and told hun so at once.
" At all event's I should prepare them here for the pos-
sibility of my going away suddenly," said Nicholas ; " I should
lose no time in doing that." As the thought occurred to him,
he took up his hat and hurried to the green-room.
" Well, Mr. Johnson," said Mrs. Crummies, who was
seated there in full regal costume with the phenomenon as the
Maiden in her maternal arms, " next week for Ryde, then for
Winchester, then for "
"I have some reason to fear," interrupted Nicholas, "that
before you leave here my career with you will have closed."
" Closed I " cried Mrs. Crummies, raising her hands in
astonishment.
" Closed ! " cried Miss Snevellicci, trembling so much in
382 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
her tights that she actually laid her hand upon the shoulder
of the manageress for support.
"Why he don't mean to say he's going! " exclaimed Mrs.
Grudden, making her way towards Mrs. Crummies. " Hoity
toity ! Nonsense."
The phenomenon being of an affectionate nature and
moreover excitable raised a loud cry, and Miss Belvawney
and Miss Bra\'assa actually shed tears. Even the male per-
formers stopped in their conversation, and echoed the word
" Going ! " although some among them (and they had been
the loudest in their congratulations that day) winked at each
other as though they would not be sorry to lose such a favored
rival ; an opinion, indeed, which the honest Mr. Folair, who
was ready dressed for the savage, openly stated in so many
words to a demon with whom he was sharing a pot of porter.
Nicholas briefly said that he feared it would be so, al-
though he could not yet speak with any degree of certainty ;
and getting away as soon as he could, went home to con New-
man's letter once more, and speculate upon it afresh.
How trifling all that had been occupying his time and
thoughts for many weeks seemed to him during that sleepless
night, and how constantly and incessantly present to his
imagination was the one idea that Kate in the midst of some
great trouble and distress might even then be looking — and
vainly too — for him !
CHAPTER XXX.
FESTIVITIES ARE HELD IN HONOR OF NICHOLAS, WHO SUD-
DENLY WITHDRAWS HIMSELF FROM THE SOCIETY OF MR.
VINCENT CRUMMLES AND HIS THEATRICAL COMPANIONS.
Mr. Vincent Crummles was no sooner acquainted with
the public announcement which Nicholas had made relative
to the probability of his shortly ceasing to be a member of
the company, than he evinced many tokens of grief and con-
sternation ; and, in the extremity of his despair, c\cn held out
certain vague promises of a speedy inipro\'ement not only in
the amount of his regular salary, but also in the contingent
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 383
emoluments appertaining to Iiis autliorship. Finding Nicliolas
bent upon quitting the society (for he had now determined
that, even if no further tidings came from Newman, he would,
at all hazards, ease his mind by repairing to London and as-
certaining the exact position of his sister) Mr. Crummies was
fain to content himself by calculating the chances of his com-
ing back again, and taking prompt and energetic measures to
make the most of him before he went away.
"Let me see," said Mr. Crummies, taking off his outlaw's
wig, the better to arrive at a cool-headed view of the whole
case. " Let me see. This is Wednesday night. \^'e'll have
posters out the first thing in the morning, announcing posi-
tively your last appearance for to-morrow."
"■ But perhaps it may not be my last appearance, you
know," said Nicholas. "Unless I am summoned away, I
should be sorry to inconvenience you by leaving before the
end of the week."
"So much the better," returned Mr. Crummies. "We
can have positively your last appearance, on Thursday — re-en-
gagement for one night more, on Friday — and, yielding to the
wishes of numerous influential patrons, who were disappointed
in obtaining seats, on Saturday. That ought to bring three
ver\' decent houses."
" Then 1 am to make three last appearances, am 1 ? " in-
quired Nicholas, smiling.
" Yes," rejoined the manager, scratching his head with an
air of some vexation ; " three is not enough, and it's very
bungling and irregular not to have more, but if we can't help
it we can't, so there's no use in talking. A novelty would be
very desirable. You couldn't sing a comic song on the pony's
back, could you ? "
" No," replied Nicholas, " I couldn't indeed."
" It has drawn money before now," said Mr. Crummies,
with a look of disappointment. " What do you think of a
brilliant display of fireworks ? "
" That it would be rather expensive," replied Ni
dryly.
" Eighteenpence would do it," said Mr. Crummies,
on the top of a pair of steps with the phenomenon in an atti-
tude ; ' Farewell ' on a transparency behind ; and nine people
at the wings with a squib in each hand — all the dozen and a
half going off at once — it would be very grand — awful from
the front, quite awful."
Michaias^v
5. " You '
384
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
As Nicholas appeared by no means impressed with the
solemnity of the proposed effect, but, on the contrary, received
the proposition in a most irreverent manner, and laughed at
it very heartily, Mr. Crummies abandoned the project in its
birth, and gloomily observed that they must make up the best
bill they could with combats and hornpipes, and so stick to
the legitimate drama.
For the purpose of carrying this object into instant execu-
tion, the manager at once repaired to a small dressing-room,
adjacent, where Mrs. Crummies was then occupied in ex-
changing the habiliments of a melo-dramatic empress for the
ordinary attire of matrons in the nineteenth century. And
with the assistance of this lady, and the accomplished Mrs.
Grudden (who had quite a genius for making out bills, being
a great hand at throwing in the notes of admiration, and know-
ing from long experience exactly where the largest capitals
ought to go), he seriously applied himself to the composition
of the poster.
" Heigho ! " sighed Nicholas, as he threw himself back in
the prompter's chair, after telegraphing the needful directions
to Smike, who had been playing a meagre tailor in the inter-
lude, with one skirt to his coat, and a little pocket handker-
chief with a large hole in it, and a woollen nightcap, and a red
nose, and other distinctive marks peculiar to tailors on the
stage. " Heisrho ! I wish all this were over."
" Over, Mr. Johnson ! " repeated a female voice behind
him, in a kind of plaintive surprise.
" It was an ungallant speech, certainly," said Nicholas,
looking up to see who the speaker was, and recognizing Miss
Sneveilicci. " I would not have made it if I had known you
had been within hearing."
" What a dear that Mr. Digby is ! " said Miss Sneveilicci,
as the tailor went off on the opposite side, at the end of the
piece, with great applause. (Smike's theatrical name was
Digby.)
" I'll tell him presently, for his gratification, that you said
so," returned Nicholas.
" Oh you naughty thing ! " rejoined Miss Sneveilicci. " I
don't know though, that I should much mind his knowing my
opinion of him ; with some other people, indeed, it might
be " Here Miss Sneveilicci stopped, as though waiting
to be questioned, but no questioning came, for Nicholas was
thinking about more serious matters.
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY.
38s
"How kind it is of you," resumed Miss Snevellicci, after
a short silence, ''to sit waiting for him night after night,
night after night, no matter how tired you are ; and taking so
much pains with him, and doing it all with as much delight
and readiness as if you were coining gold by it ! "
" He well deserves all the kindness I can show him, and a
great deal more," said Nicholas. " He is the most grateful,
single-hearted, affectionate creature, that ever breathed."
" So odd, too," remarked Miss Snevellicci, " isn't he } "
" God help him, and those who have made him so ; he is
indeed," rejoined Nicholas, shaking his head.
" He is such a devilish close chap," said Mr. Folair, who
had come up a little before, and now joined in the conversa-
tion. " Nobody can ever get anything out of him."
" What should they get out of him 1 " asked Nicholas,
turning round with some abruptness.
" Zooks ! what a fire-eater you are, Johnson ! " returned
Mr. Folair, pulling up the heel of his dancing shoe. " I'm
only talking of the natural curiosity of the people here, to
know what he has been about all his life."
" Poor fellow ! it is pretty plain, I should think, that he
has not the intellect to have been about anything of much
importance to them or anj'body else," said Nicholas.
"Ay," rejoined' the actor, contemplating the effect of his
face in a lamp reflector, " but that involves the whole ques-
tion, you know."
" What question ? " asked Nicholas.
" Why, the who he is and what he is, and how you two,
who are so different, came to be such close companions," re-
plied Mr, Folair, delighted with the opportunity of saying
something disagreeable. "That's in everybody's mouth."
" The ' everybody ' of the theatre, I suppose .'' " said Nich-
olas, contemptuously.
"In it and out of it too," replied the actor. " Why, you
know, Lenville says "
" I thought I had silenced him effectually," interrupted
Nicholas, reddening. /
" Perhaps you have," rejoined the immovable Mr. Folair ;
" if you have, he said this before he was silenced : Lenville
says that you're a reg^ilar stick of an actor, and that it's only
the mystery about you that has caused you to go down with
the people here, and that Crummies keeps it up for his own
sake ; though Lenville says he don't believe there's anything
25
386 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
at all in it, except your having got into a scrape and run away
from somewhere, for doing something or other."
" Oh ! " said Nicholas, forcing a smile.
" That's a part of what he says," added Mr. Folair. " I
mention it as the friend of both parties, and in strict confi-
dence, /don't agree with him, you know. He says he takes
Digby to be more knave than fool ; and old Fluggers, who does
the heavy business you know, he says that when he delivered
messages at Covent Garden the season before last, there
used to be a pickpocket hovering about the coach-stand who
had exactly the face of Digby ; though, as he very properly
says, Digby may not be the same, but only his brother, or
some near relation."
" Oh ! " cried Nicholas again.
" Yes," said Mr. Folair, with undisturbed calmness, " that's
what they say. I thought I'd tell you, because really you
ought to know. Oh ! here's this blessed phenomenon at last.
Ugh, you little imposition, I should like to — quite ready, my
darling,— humbug— Ring up Mrs. G., and let the favorite
wake 'em ! "
Uttering in a loud voice such of the latter allusions as were
complimentary to the unconscious phenomenon, and giving
the rest in a confidential " aside " to Nicholas, Mr. Folair
followed the ascent of the curtain with his eyes, regarded with
a sneer the reception of Miss Crummies as the Maiden, and,
falling back a step or two, to advance with the better effect,
uttered a preliminary howl, and " went on " chattering his
teeth_and brandishing his tin tomahawk as the Indian Savage.
/ i^ So these are some of the stories they invent about us, and
^ndy"from mouth to mouth ! " thought Nicholas. '\ If a man
fwould commit an inexpiable offence against any society, large
lor small,j£Uiim be successful. They will forgive him any
Iprime but that/
^—""Tou surely don't mind what that malicious creature says,
Mr. Johnson ? " observed Miss Snevellicci in her most winning
tones.
" Not I," replied Nicholas. " If I were going to remain
here, I might think it worth my while to embroil myself. As
it is, let them talk till they are hoarse. But here," added
Nicholas, as Smike approached, " here comes the subject of a
portion of their good nature, so let he and I say good night
together." ^,
" No, I will not let either of you say anything of the kmd,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
387
returned Miss Snevellicci. " You must come home and see
mama who only came to Portsmouth to-day, and is dying to
behold you. Led, my dear, persuade Mr. Johnson."
"Oh, I'm sure," returned Miss Ledrook, with considerable
vivacity, " if j'.?// can't persuade him — " Miss Ledrook said
no more, but intimated, by a dexterous playfulness, that if
Miss Snevellicci couldn't persuade him, nobody could.
" Mr. and Mrs. Lillyvick have taken lodgings in our house,
and share our sitting-room for the present," said Miss Snevel-
licci. "Won't that induce you? "
" Surely," returned Nicholas, " I can require no possible
inducement beyond your invitation."
" Oh no ! I dare say," rejoined Miss Snevellicci. And
Miss Ledrook said, " Upon my word ! " Upon which Miss
Snevellicci said that Miss Ledrook was a giddy thing ; and
Miss Ledrook said that Miss Snevellicci needn't color up quite
so much ; and Miss Snevellicci beat Miss Ledrook, and Miss
Ledrook beat Miss Snevellicci.
" Come," said Miss Ledrook, " it's high time we were
there, or we shall have poor Mrs. Snevellicci thinking that you
have run away with her daughter, Mr. Johnson ; and then we
should have a pretty to-do."
"My dear Led," remonstrated Miss Snevellicci, "how you
do talk ! "
Miss Ledrook made no answer, but taking Smike's arm in
hers, left her friend and Nicholas to follow at their pleasure ;
which it pleased them, or rather pleased Nicholas, who had no
great fancy for a tete-d-tete under the circumstances, to do at
once.
There were not wanting matters of conversation when
they reached the street, for it turned out that Miss Snevellicci
had a small basket to carry home, and Miss Ledrook a small
band-box, both containing such minor articles of theatrical
costume as the lady performers usually carried to and fro
every evening. Nicholas would insist upon carrying the
basket, and Miss Snevellicci would insist upon carrj'ing it her-
self, which gave rise to a struggle, in which Nicholas captured
the basket and the band-box likewise. Then Nicholas said,
that he wondered what could possibly be inside the basket,
and attempted to peep in, whereat Miss Snevellicci screamed,
and declared that if she thought he had seen, she was sure
she should faint away. This declaration was followed by a
similar attempt on the band-box, and similar demonstrations
388
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
on the part of Miss Ledrook, and then both ladies vowed that
they wouldn't move a step further until Nicholas had prom-
ised that he wouldn't offer to peep again. At last Nicholas
pledged himself to betray no further curiosity, and they walked
on : both ladies giggling very much, and declaring that they
never had seen such a wicked creature in all their born clays
— never.
Lightening the way with such pleasantry as this, they ar-
rived at the tailor's house in no time ; and here they made
quite a little party, there being present besides Mr. Lillyvick
and Mrs. Lillyvick, not only Miss Snevellicci's mama, but her
papa also. And an uncommonly fine man Miss Snevellicci's
papa was, with a hook nose, and a white forehead, and curly
black hair, and high cheek bones, and altogether quite a
handsome face, only a little pimply as though with drinking.
He had a very broad chest had Miss Snevellicci's papa, and
he wore a threadbare blue dress coat buttoned with gilt but-
tons tight across it ; and he no sooner saw Nicholas come
into the room, than he whipped the two forefingers of his
right hand in between the two centre buttons, and sticking his
other arm gracefully a-kimbo, seemed to say, " Now, here I
am, my buck, and what have you got to say to me ? "
Such was, and in such an attitude sat Miss Snevellicci's
papa, who had been in the profession ever since he had first
played the ten-year-old imps in the Christmas pantomimes ; who
could sing a little, dance a little, fence a little, act a little, and
do everything a little, but not much ; who had been sometimes
in the ballet, and sometimes in the chorus, at ever)^ theatre in
London ; who was always selected in virtue of his figure to
play the militar)^ visitors and the speechless noblemen ; who
always wore a smart dress, and came on arm-in-arm with a
smart lady in short petticoats, — and always did it it too with
such an air that people in the pit had been several times known
to cry out " Bravo ! " under the impression that he was some-
body. Such was Miss Snevellicci's papa, upon whom some
envious persons cast the imputation that he occasionally beat
Miss Snevellicci's mama, who was still a dancer, with a neat
little figure and some remains of good looks, and who now
sat, as she danced, — being rather too old for the full glare of
the foot lights-, — in the back ground.
To these good people Nicholas was presented with much
formality. The introduction being completed, Miss Snevel-
licci's papa "(wfro"was scented with rum and water) said" that
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 389
he was delighted to make the acquaintance of a gentleman so
highly talented ; and furthermore remarked, that there hadn't
been such a hit made — no, not since the first appearance of
his friend Mr. Glavormelly, at the Coburg.
" You have seen him, sir ? " said Miss Snevellicci's papa.
"No, really I never did," replied Nicholas.
" You never saw my friend Glavormelly, sir ! " said Miss
Snevellicci's papa. " Then you have never seen acting yet.
If he had lived "
" Oh, he is dead, is he } " interrupted Nicholas.
" He is," said Mr. Snevellicci. " but he isn't in Westmintser
Abbey, more's the shame. He was a . Well, no matter.
He is gone to that bourne from whence no traveller returns.
I hope he is appreciated titer c.^^
So saying Miss Snevellicci's papa rubbed the tip of his
nose with a very yellow silk handkerchief, and gave the com-
pany to understand that these recollections overcame him.
" Well, Mr. Lillyvick," said Nicholas, " and how are you ? "
" Quite well, sir," replied the collector. " There is nothing
like the married state, sir, depend upon it."
" Indeed ! " said Nicholas, laughing.
" Nothing like it," sir, replied Mr. Lillyvick solemnly.
" How do you think," whispered the collector, drawing him
aside, " How do you think she looks to-night ? "
" As handsome as ever," replied Nicholas, glancing at the
late Miss Petowker.
'' Why, there's a air about her, sir," whispered the collec-
tor, " that I never saw in anybody. Look at her, now she
moves to put the kettle on. There ! Isn't it fascination,
sir?"
" You're a lucky man," said Nicholas.
"Ha, ha, ha!" rejoined the collector, "No. Do you
think I am though, eh ? Perhaps I may be, perhaps I may
be. I say, I couldn't have done much better if I had been a
young man, could I } You couldn't have done much better
yourself, could you — eh — could you ? " With such inquiries,
and many more such, Mr. Lillyvick jerked his elbow into
Nicholas's side, and chuckled till his face became quite puF-
ple in the attempt to keep down his satisfaction.
By this time the cloth had been laid under the joint super-
intendence of all the ladies, upon two tables put together, one
being high and narrow, and the other low and broad. There
were oysters at the top, sausages at the bottom, a pair of snuf-
350 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
fers in the centre, and baked potatoes wherever it was most
convenient to put them. Two additional chairs were brought
in from the bedroom ; Miss SnevelUccl sat at the head of the
table, and Mr. Lillyvick at the foot ; and Nicholas had not
only the honor of sitting next Miss Snevellicci, but of having
Miss Snevellicci's mama on his right hand, and Miss Snevel-
licci's papa over the way. In short, he was the hero of the
feast ; and when the table was cleared and something warm
introduced, Miss Snevellicci's papa got up and proposed his
health in a speech containing such affecting allusions to his
coming departure, that Miss Snevellicci wept, and was com-
pelled to retire into the bedroom.
" Hush ! Don't take any notice of it," said Miss Le-
drook, peeping in from the bedroom. " Say, when she comes
back, that she exerts herself too much."
Miss Ledrook eked out this speech with so many myste-
rious nods and frowns before she shut the door again, that a
profound silence came upon all the company, during which
Miss Snevellicci's papa looked very big indeed — several sizes
larger than life — at everybody in turn, but particularly at
Nicholas, and kept on perpetually emptying his tumbler and
filling it again, until the ladies returned in a cluster, with
Miss Snevellicci among them.
"You needn't alarm yourself a bit, Mr. Snevellicci," said
Mrs. Lillyvick. " She is only a little weak and nervous ; she
has been so ever since the morning."
" Oh," said Mr. Snevellicci, " that's all, is it .? "
" Oh yes, that's all. Don't make a fuss about it," cried
all the ladies together.
Now this was not exactly the kind of reply suited to Mr.
Snevellici's importance as a man and a father, so he picked
out the unfortunate Mrs. Snevellicci, and asked her what the
devil she meant by talking to him in that way.
" Dear me, my dear ! " said Mrs. Snevellicci.
" Don't call me your dear, ma'am," said Mr. Snevellicci,
"if you please."
" Pray, pa, don't," interposed Miss Snevellicci.
" Don't what, my child ? "
" Talk in that way."
" Why not ? " said Mr. Snevellicci. " I hope you don't
suppose there's anybody here who is to prevent my talking as
I like?"
"Nobody wants to, pa," rejoined his daughter.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 3^1
" Nobody would if they did want to," said Mr. Snevellicci.
" I am not ashamed of myself. Snevellicci is my name. I'm
to be found in Broad Court, Bow Street, when I'm in town.
If I'm not at home, let any man ask for me at the stage door.
Damme, they know me at the stage door I suppose ? Most
men have seen my portrait at the cigar shop round the corner.
I've been mentioned in the newspapers before now, haven't
I ? Talk ! I'll tell you what ; if I found out that any man had
been tampering with the affections of my daughter, I wouldn't
talk. I'd astonish him without talking ; that's my way."
So saying, Mr. Snevellicci struck the palm of his left hand
three smart blows with his clenched fist ; pulled a phantom
nose with his right thumb and fore finger, and swallowed
another glassfull at a draught. "That's my way," repeated
Mr. Snevellicci.
Most public characters have their failings : and the truth
IS that Mr. bneveiiicci was a little ariclicted to drmkinp^ : or.
if the whole truth must be told, that he was scarcely ever
sober. He knewTn his cups three distinct stages of intpxica-
~tion,— tRe "3ighifie d — the quarrelsome — the amorous. .When
professToiiaTIy engaged he never got beyond the dignified ; in
private circles he went through all three, passing from one to
another with a rapidity of transition often rather perplexing
to those who had not the honor of his acquaintance.
Thus Mr. Snevellicci had no sooner swallowed another
glassful than he smiled upon all present in happy forgetfulness
of having exhibited symptoms of pugnacity, and proposed
" The ladies ! Bless their hearts ! " in a most vivacious man-
ner.
" I love 'em," said Mr. Snevellicci, looking round the ta-
ble, "I love 'em, every one."
"Not every one," reasoned Mr. Lillyvick. mildly.
"Yes, every one," repeated Mr. Snevellicci.
"That would include the married ladies, you know," said
Mr. Lillyvick.
" I love them too, sir," said Mr. Snevellicci.
The collector looked into the surrounding faces with an
aspect of grave astonishment, seeming to say, " This is a
nice man ! " and appeared a little surprised that Mrs. Lilly-
vick's manner yielded no evidences of horror and indignation.
"One good turn deserves another," said Mr. Snevellicci.
"I love them and they love me." And as if this avowal
were not made in sufficient disregard and defiance of all moral
392 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
obligations, what did Mr. Snevellicci do ? He winked — ^wink-
ed, openly and undisguisedly ; winked with his right eye —
upon Henrietta Lillyvick !
The collector fell back in his chair in the intensity of his
astonishment. If anybody had winked at her as Henrietta
Petowker, it would have been indecorous in the last degree ;
but as Mrs. Lillyvick ! While he thought of it in a cold per-
spiration, and wondered whether it was possible that he could
be dreaming, Mr. Snevellicci, repeated the wink, and drinking
to Mrs. Lillyvick in dumb show, actually blew her a kiss !
Mr. Lillyvick left his chair, walked straight up to the other
end of the table, and fell upon him — literally fell upon him —
instantaneously. Mr. Lillyvick was no light weight, and con-
sequently when he fell upon Mr. Snevellicci, Mr. Snevellicci
fell under the table. Mr. Lillyvick followed him, and the
ladies screamed.
"What is the matter with the men! Are they mad?"
cried Nicholas, diving under the table, dragging up the col-
lector by main force, and thrusting him, all doubled up, into
a chair, as if he had been a stuffed figure. " What do you
mean to do ? What do you want to do ? What is the matter
with you ? "
While Nicholas raised up the collector, Smike had per-
formed the same office for Mr. Snevellicci, who now regarded
his late adversary in tipsy amazement.
" Look here, sir," replied Mr. Lillyvick, pointing to his
astonished wife, " here is purity and elegance combined, whose
feelings have been outraged — violated, sir ! "
" Lor, what nonsense he talks ! " exclaimed Mrs. Lillyvick
in answer to the inquiring look of Nicholas. " Nobody has
said anything to me."
" Said, Henrietta ! " cried the collector. " Didn't I see
him — " Mr. Lillyvick couldn't bring himself to utter the
word, but he counterfeited the motion of the eye.
" Well ! " cried Mrs. Lillyvick. " Do you suppose nobody
is ever to look at me ? A pretty thing to be married indeed,
if that was law ! "
" You didn't mind it ? " cried the collector,
" Mind it ! " repeated Mrs. Lillyvick contemptuously.
" You ought to go down on your knees and beg everybody's
pardon, that you ought."
" Pardon, my dear ? " said the dismayed collector.
"Yes, and mine first," replied Mrs, Lillyvick. "Do you
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 393
suppose / ain't the best judge of what's proper and what's
improper ? "
" To be sure," cried all the ladies. " Do you suppose we
shouldn't be the first to speak, if there was anything that
ought to be taken notice of ? "
" Do you suppose ///^^ don't know, sir ? " said Miss Snevel-
licci's papa, pulling up his collar, and muttering something
about a punching of heads, and being only withheld by con-
siderations of age. With which Miss Snevellicci's papa looked
steadily anrd sternly at Mr. Lillyvick for some seconds, and
then rising deliberately from his chair, kissed the ladies all
round, beginning with Mrs. Lillyvick.
The unhappy collector looked piteously at his wife, as if
to see whether there was any one trait of Miss Petowker left
in Mrs. Lillyvick, and finding too surely that there was not,
begged pardon of all the company with great humility, and
sat down such a crest-fallen, dispirited, disenchanted man,
that despite all his selfishness and dotage, he was quite an
object of compassion.
Miss Snevellicci's papa being greatly exalted by this
triumph, and incontestable proof of his popularity with the
fair sex, quickly grew convivial, not to say uproarious ; volun-
teering more than one song of no inconsiderable length, and
resralins: the social circle between-whiles with recollections of
divers splendid women who had been supposed to entertam a
passion for himself, several of whom he toasted by name,
taking occasion to remark at the same time that if he had
been a little more alive to his own interest, he might have
been rolling at that moment in his chariot-and-four. These
reminiscences appeared to awaken no very torturing pangs in
the breast of Mrs. Snevellicci, who was sufficiently occupied
in descanting to Nicholas upon the manifold accomplishments
and merits of her daughter. Nor was the young lady herself
at all behind-hand in displaying her choicest allurements ; but
these, heightened as they were by the artifices of Miss Le-
drook, had .nacHegf whatever in increasing the attention of
Nicholas, wlm, with the precedent ol Miss Squeers still fresh
in his memory, steadily resisted every fascination, and placed
so strict a guaixl upon his behavior. tha,t when he had taken
his leave the ladies were unanimous in pronouncing liim quite
a monster of insensibility.
Next day the posters appeared in due course, and the
public were informed, in all the colors of the rainbow, and in
394
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
letters afflicted with every possible variation of spinal deformity,
how that Mr. Johnson would have the honor of making his
last appearance that evening, and how that an early applica-
tion for places was requested, in consequence of the extraor-
dinary overflow attendant on his performances. ; It being a
remarkable fact in theatrical history, but one long^ince estab-
lished beyond dispute, that it is a hopeless endeavor to attract
people to a theatre unless the.y_,can be first brought to believe
that they will never get into it.
Nicholas was somewhat at a loss, on entering*the theatre
at night, to account for the unusual perturbation and excite-
ment visible in the countenances of all the company, but he
was not long in doubt as to the cause, for before he could
make any inquiry respecting it Mr. Crummies approached,
and in an agitated tone of voice, informed him that there was
a London manager in the boxes.
" It's the phenomenon, depend upon it, sir," said Crummies,
dragging Nicholas to the little hole in the curtain that he
might look through at the London manager. " I have not
the smallest doubt it's the fame of the phenomenon — that's
the man ; him in the great-coat and no shirt-collar. She shall
have ten pound a-week, Johnson ; she shall not appear on the
London boards for a farthing less. They shan't engage her
either, unless they engage Mrs. Crummies too — twenty pound
a-week for the pair ; or I'll tell you what, I'll throw in myself
and the two boys, and they shall have the family for thirty. I
can't say fairer than that. They must take us all, if none of
us will go without the others. That's the way some of the
London people do, and it always answers. Thirty pound a-
week. It's too cheap, Johnson. It's dirt cheap."
Nicholas replied, that it certainly was ; and Mr. Vincent
Crummies taking several huge pinches of snuff to compose
his feelings, hurried away to tell Mrs. Crummies that he had
quite settled the only terms that could be accepted, and had
resolved not to abate one single farthins:.
When everybody was dressed and the curtain went up, the
excitement occasioned by the presence of the London manager
increased a thousand-fold. Everybody happened to know
that the London manager had come down specially to witness
his or her own performance, and all were in a flutter of anxiety
and expectation. Some of those who were not on in the
first scene, hurried to the wings, and there stretched their
necks to have a peep at him ; others stole up into the two
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
395
little private boxes over the stage-doors, and from that posi-
tion reconnoitered the London manager. Once the London
manager was seen to smile. He smiled at the comic country-
man's pretending to catch a blue-bottle, while Mrs. Crummies
was making her greatest effect. " Very good, my fine fel-
low," said Mr. Crummies, shaking his fist at the comic
countryman when he came off, " you leave this company next
Saturday night."
In the same way, everybody who was on the stage beheld
no audience but one individual ; everybody played to the
London manager. When Mr. Lenville in a sudden burst of
passion called the emperor a miscreant, and then biting his
glove, said, " But I must dissemble," instead of looking
gloomily at the boards and so waiting for his cue, as is proper
in such cases, he kept his eye fixed upon the London man-
ager. When Miss Eravassa sang her song at her lover, who
according to custom stood- ready to shake hands with her be-
tween the verses, they looked, not at each other but at the
London manager. Mr. Cnmimles died point blank at him ;
and when the two guards came in to take the body off after a
very hard death, it was seen to open its eyes and glance at
the London manager. At length the London manager was
discovered to be asleep, and shortly after that he woke up and
went away, whereupon all the company fell foul of the un-
happy comic countryman, declaring that his buffonery was the
sole cause ; and Mr. Crummies said, that he had put up with
it a long time, but that he really couldn't stand it any longer,
and therefore would feel obliged by his looking out for another
engagement.
All this was the occasion of much amusement to Nicholas,
whose only feeling upon the subject was one of sincere satis-
faction that the great man went away before he appeared. He
went through his part in the two last pieces as briskly as he
could, and having been received with unbounded favor and
unprecedented applause — so said the bills for next day, which
had been printed an hour or two before — he took Smike's
awrr-sud walked home to bed.
IWith the post next morning came a letter from Newman
Noggs, very inky, very short, very dirty, ver^' small, and very
mysterious, urging Nicholas to return to London ipjtantly ;
not to lose an instant ; to be there that night if possible.
" I will," said Nicholas. " Heaven knows I have remained
here for the best, and sorely against my own will ; but even
39^
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
now I may have dallied too long. What can have happened ?
Smike, my good fellow, here — take my purse. Put our things
together, and pay what little debts we owe — quick, and we
shall be in time for the morning coach. I will only tell them
that we are going, and will return to you immediately."
So saying, he took his hat, and hurrying away to the
lodgings of Mr. Crummies, applied his hand to the knocker
with such hearty good-will, that he awakened that gentleman,
who was still in bed, and caused Mr. Bulph the pilot to take
his morning's pipe very nearly out of his mouth in the ex-
tremity of his surprise.
The door being opened, Nicholas ran up stairs without
any ceremony, and bursting into the darkened sitting-room
on the one pair front, found that the two Master Crummleses
had sprung out of the sofa-bedstead and were putting on their
clothes with great rapidity, under the impression that it was
the middle of the night, and the next house was on fire.
Before he could undeceive them, Mr. Crummies came
down in a flannel-gown and night-cap ; and to him Nicholas
briefly explained that circumstances had occurred which ren-
dered it necessary for him to repair to London immediately,
" So good-by," said Nicholas ; "good-by, good-by."
He was half-way down stairs before Mr. Crummies had
sufficiently recovered his surprise to gasp out something about
the posters.
" I can't help it," replied Nicholas, " Set whatever I may
have earned this week against them, or if that will not repay
you, say at once what will. Quick, quick."
"We'll cry quits about that," returned Crummies. "But
can't we have one last night more ? "
" Not an hour — not a minute," replied Nicholas, im-
patiently.
" Won't you stop to say something to Mrs. Crummies ? "
asked the manager, following him down to the door.
" I couldn't stop if it were to prolong my life a score of
years," rejoined Nicholas. " Here, take my hand, and with
it my hearty thanks. — Oh ! that I should have been fooling
here ! "
Accompariying these words with an impatient stamp upon
the ground, he tore himself from the manager's detaining
grasp, and darting rapidly down the street was out of sight in
an instant.
" Dear me, dear me," said Mr. Crummies, looking wist-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 397
fully towards the point at which he had just disappeared; "if
he only acted like that, what a deal of money he'd draw ! He
should have kept upon this circuit ; he'd have been ver}^ use-
ful to me. But he don't know what's good for him. He is
an impetuous youth. Young men are rash, \qx\ rash."
Mr. Crummies being in a moralizing mood, might possibly
have moralized for some minutes longer if he had not mechan-
ically put his hand towards his w^aistcoat pocket, w^here he
was accustomed to keep his snuff. The absence of any
pocket at all in the usual direction, suddenly recalled to his
recollection the fact that he had no waistcoat on ; and this
leading him to a contemplation of the extreme scantiness of
his attire, he shut the door abruptly, and retired up stairs
with great precipitation.
Smike had made good speed while Nicholas was absent,
and with his help e\erything was soon ready for their depart-
ure. They scarcely stopped to take a morsel of breakfast,
and in less than half an hour arrived at the coach-office :
quite out of breath with the haste they had made to reach it
in time. There were yet a few minutes to spare, so, having
secured the places, Nicholas hurried into a slopseller's hard
by, and bought Smike a great-coat. It would have been
rather large for a substantial yeoman, but the shopman aver-
ring (and with considerable truth) that it was a most uncom-
mon fit, Nicholas would have purchased it in his impatience
if it had been twice the size.
As they hurried up to the coach, which was now in the
open street and all ready for starting, Nicholas was not a little
astonished to find himself suddenly clutched in a close and
violent embrace, which nearly took him off his legs ; nor was
his amazement at all lessened by hearing the voice of Mr.
Crummies exclaim, " It is he — my friend, my friend ! "
" Bless my heart," cried Nicholas, struggling in the mana-
ger's arms, " what are you about ? "
The manager made no reply, but strained him to his breast
again, exclaiming as he did so, " Farewell, my noble, my lion-
hearted boy ! "
In fact, Mr. Crummies, who could never lose any oppor-
tunit}^ for professional display, had turned out for the express
purpose of taking a public farewell of Nicholas ; and to ren-
der it the more imposing, he was now, to that young gentle-
man's most profound annoyance, inflicting upon him a rapid
succession of stage embraces, which, as ever}-body knows, are
398
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
performed by the embracer's laying his or her chin on the
shoulder of the object of affection, and looking over it. This
Mr. Crummies did in the highest style of melodrama, pouring
forth at the same time all the most dismal forms of farewell
he could think of, out of the stock pieces. Nor was this all,
for the elder Master Crummies was going through a similar
ceremony with Smike ; while Master Percy Crummies, with a
very little second-hand camlet cloak, worn theatrically over
his left shoulder, stood by, in the attitude of an attendant
officer, waiting to convey the two victims to the scaffold.
The lookers-on laughed very heartily, and as it was as
well to put a good face upon the matter, Nicholas laughed too
when he had succeeded in disengaging himself ; and rescuing
the astonished Smike, climbed up to the coach roof after him,
and kissed his hand in honor of the absent Mrs. Crummies as
they rolled away.
CHAPTER XXXI.
OF RALPH NICKLEBY AND NEWMAN NOGGS, AND SOME WISE
PRECAUTIONS, THE SUCCESS OR FAILURE OF WHICH WILL
APPEAR IN THE SEQUEL.
In blissful unconsciousness that his nephew was hastening
at the utmost speed of four good horses towards his sphere of
action, and that every passing minute diminished the distance
between them, Ralph Nickleby sat that morning occupied in
his customary avocations, and yet unable to prevent his
thoughts wandering from time to time back to the interview
which had taken place between himself and his niece on the
previous day. At such intervals, after a few moments of ab-
straction, Ralph would mutter some peevish interjection, and
apply himself with renewed steadiness of purpose to the ledger
before him, but again and again the same train of thought came
back despite all his efforts to prevent it, confusing him in his cal-
culations, and utterly distracting his attention from the figures
over which he bent. At length Ralph laid down his pen, and
threw himself back in his chair as though he had made up his
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 399
mind to allow the obtrusive current of reflection to take its
own course, and, by giving it full scope, to rid himself of it
effectually.
" I am not a man to be moved by a pretty face," muttered
Ralph sternly. " There is a grinning skull beneath it, and
men like me who look and work below the surface see that,
and not its delicate covering. And yet I almost like thegirl,
or should if she had been less proudly and squeamishly
brought up. If the boy .were drowned or hanged,_ and the
mother dead, thisliouse should be her home. I wish they
wefe,"with all my soul."
Notwithstanding the deadly ^hatred which Ralph felt
towards Nicholas, and th"e~l)itter' contempt with which he
sneered at poor Mrs. Nickleby — notwithstanding the baseness
with which he had behaved, and was then behaving, and would
behave again if his interest prompted him, towards Kate her-
self— still tliere was, strange though it may seem, something
humanizing and e\-en gentle in his thoughts at that moni.ent,,^.
"^e thought of what his home might be if Kate were there ;
he placed her in the empty chair, looked upon her, heard her
speak ; he felt again upon his arm the gentle pressure of the
trembling hand ; he strewed his costly rooms with the hun-
dred silent tokens of feminine presence and occupation ; he
came back again to the cold fireside and the silent dreary
splendor ; and in that one glimpse of a better nature, born as,
it was in selfish thought, the rich man felt himself friendXess,
childless, and alone. Gold,, for the insknt, lost its lustre in
Ills" c\-es7 ft >r' there were countless treasures of the heart which
iFcrnilJ ne\er purchase.
■ A \ ery sliglit circumstance was sufficient to banish such
reflection's from the mind of such a man. As Ralph looked
vacantly out across the yard towards the window of the other
office, he became suddenly aware of the earnest observation
of Newman Noggs, who with his red nose almost touching the
glass, feigned to be mending a pen with a rusty fragment of a
knife, but was in reality staring at his employer with a counte-
nance of the closest and most eager scrutiny.
Ralph exchanged his dreamy posture for his accustomed
business attitude : the face of Newman disappeared, and the
train of thought took to flight, all simultaneously and in an
instant.
After a few minutes, Ralph rang his bell. Newman an-
swered the summons, and Ralph raised his eyes steathily to
400 YICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
his face, as if he almost feared to read there, a knowledge of
his recent thoughts.
There was not the smallest speculation, however, in the
countenance of Newman Noggs. If it be possible to imagine
a man with two e3'es in his head, and both wide open, looking
in no direction whatever, and seeing nothing, Newman ap-
peared to be that man while Ralph Nickleby regarded him.
" How now ? " growled Ralph.
" Oh ! " said Newman, throwing some intelligence into his
eyes all at once, and dropping them on his master, " I thought
you rang." With which laconic remark Newman turned
round and hobbled away.
" Stop ! " said Ralph.
Newman stopped ; not at all disconcerted.
•' I did ring."
" I knew you did."
" Then why do you ofifer to go if you know that } "
" I thought you rang to say you didn't ring," replied New-
man. " You often do."
" How dare you pry, and peer, and stare at me, sirrah ? "
demanded Ralph.
" Stare ! " cried Newman, " at jou ! Ha, ha ! " which was
all the explanation Newman deigned to offer.
"Be careful, sir," said Ralph, looking steadily at him.
" Let me have no drunken fooling here. Do you see this
parcel ? "
" It's big enough," rejoined Newman.
" Carry it into the City ; to Cross, in Broad Street, and
leave it there — quick. Do you hear ? "
Newman gave a dogged kind of nod to express an affirma-
tive reply, and, leaving the room for a few seconds, returned
with his hat. Having made various ineffective attempts to fit
the parcel (which was some two feet square) into the crown
thereof, Newman took it under his arm, and after putting on
his fingerless gloves with great precision and nicety, keeping
his eyes fixed upon Mr. Ralph Nickleby all the time, he ad-
justed his hat upon his head with as much care, real or pre-
tended, as if it were a bran-new one of the most expensive
quality, and at last departed on his errand.
He executed his commission with great promptitude and
despatch, only calling at one public-house for half a minute,
and even that might be said to be in his way, for he went in
at one door and came out at the other ; but as he returned
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. ^Oj
and had got so far homewards as the Strand, Newman began
to loiter with the uncertain air of a man who has not quite
made up his mind whether to halt or go straight forwards.
After a very short consideration, the former inclination pre-
vailed, and making towards the point he had had in his mind,
Newman knocked a modest double-knock, or rather a nervous
single one, at Miss La Creevy's door.
It was opened by a strange servant, on whom the odd figure
of the visitor did not appear to make the most favorable im-
pression possible, inasmuch as she no sooner saw him than
she very nearly closed it, and placing herself in the narrow
gap, inquired what he wanted. But Newman merely uttering
the monosyllable "Noggs," as if it were some cabalistic word,
at sound of which bolts would fly back and doors open,
pushed briskly past and gained the door of Miss La Creevy's
sitting-room, before the astonished servant could offer any
opposition.
" Walk in if you please," said Miss La Creevy in reply to the
sound of Newman's knuckles ; and in he walked accordingly.
" Bless us ! " cried Miss La Creevy, starting as Newman
bolted in ; " what did you want, sir ? "
"You have forgotten me," said Newman, with an inclina-
tion of the head. " I wonder at that. That nobody should
remember me who knew me in other days, is natural enough ;
but there are few people who, seeing me once, forget me no7ci."
He glanced, as he spoke, at his shabby clothes and paralytic
limb, and slightly shook his head,
" I did forget you, I declare," said Miss La Creevy, rising
to receive Newman, who met her half-way, " and I am ashamed
of myself for doing so ; for you are a kind, good creature, Mr.
Noggs. Sit down and tell me all about Miss Nickleby. Poor
dear thing ! I haven't seen her for this many a week."
" How's that ? " asked Newman.
" Why the truth is, Mr. Noggs," said Miss La Creevy,
" that I have been out on a visit — the first visit I have made
for fifteen years."
"That is a long time," said Newman, sadly.
" So it is a very long time to look back upon in years, though,
somehow or other, thank Heaven, the solitary days roll away
peacefully and happily enough," replied the miniature painter.
" I have a brother, Mr. Noggs — the only relation I have — and
all that time I nev^er saw him once. Not that we ever quar-
relled, but he was apprenticed down in the country, and he got
26
402 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
married there, and new ties and affections springing up about
him, he forgot a poor Httle woman like me, as it was very rea-
sonable he should, you know. Don't suppose that I complain
about that, because I always said to mj'self, ' It is very natural ;
poor dear John is making his way in the world, and has a wife
to tell his cares and troubles to, and children now to play
about him, so God bless him and them, and send we may all
meet together one day where we shall part no more.' But
what do you think, Mr. Noggs," said the miniature painter,
brightening up and clapping her hands, " of that very same
brother coming up to London at last, and never resting till he
found me out ; what do you think of his coming here and sit-
ting down in that very chair, and cWing like a child because
he was so glad to see me — what do you think of his insisting
on taking me down all the way into the country to his own
house (quite a sumptuous place, Mr. Noggs, with a large gar-
den and I don't know how many fields, and a man in livery
waiting at table, and cows and horses and pigs and I don't
know what besides), and making me stay a whole month, and
pressing me to stop there all my life — yes, all my life — and so
did his wife, and so did the children — and there were four of
them, and one, the eldest girl of all, they — they had named
her after me eight good years before, they had indeed. I
never was so happy ; in all my life I never was ! " The wor-
thy soul hid her face in her handkerchief, and sobbed aloud ;
for it was the first opportunity she had had of unburdening
her heart, and it would have its way.
" But bless my life," said Miss La Creevy, wiping her eyes
after a short pause, and cramming her handkerchief into her
pocket with great bustle and dispatch ; " what a foolish
creature I must seem to you, Mr. Noggs ! I shouldn't have
said anything about it, only I wanted to explain to you how it
was I hadn't seen Miss Nickleby."
" Have you seen the old lady ? " asked Newman.
" You mean Mrs. Nickleby ? " said Miss La Creevy.
" Then I tell you what, Mr. Noggs, if you want to keep in the
good books in that quarter, you had better not call her the old
lady any more, for I suspect she wouldn't be best pleased to
hear you. Yes, I went there the night before last, but she was
quite on the high ropes about something, and was so grand
and mysterious, that I couldn't make anything of her ; so, to
tell you the truth, I took it into my head to be grand too, and
came away in state. I thought she would have come round
again before this, but she hasn't been here."
NTCHOLAS NICKLEBY. 403
" About Miss Nickleby — " said Newman.
" Why, she was here twice while I was away," returned
Miss La Creevy. " I was afraid she mightn't hke to have me
calUng on her among those great folks in what's-its-name Place,
so I thought I'd wait a day or two, and if I didn't see her,
write."
" Ah ! " exclaimed Newman, cracking his fingers.
" However, I want to hear all the news about them from
you," said Miss La Creevy. " How is the old rough and
tough monster of Golden Square ? Well, of course ; such
peojDle always are. I don't mean how is he in health, but how
is he going on ; how is he behaving himself ? "
" Damn him ! " cried Newman, clashing his cherished hat
on the floor ; " like a false hound."
" Gracious, Mr. Noggs, you quite terrify me ! " exclaimed
Miss La Creevy, turning pale.
" I should have spoilt his features yesterday afternoon if I
could have afforded it," said Newman, moving restlessly about,
and shaking his fist at a portrait of Mr. Canning over the
mantel-piece. " I was very near it. I was obliged to put my
hands in my pockets, and keep 'em there very tight. I shall
do it some day in that little back parlor, I know I shall. I
should have done it before now, if I hadn't been afraid of
making bad worse. I shall double-lock myself in with him and
have it out before I die, I'm quite certain of it."
" I shall scream if you don't compose yourself, Mr. Noggs,"
said Miss La Creevy ; I'm sure I shan't be able to help it."
" Never mind," rejoined Newman, darting violently to and
fro. " He's coming up to-night ; I wrote to tell him. He lit-
tle thinks I know ; he little thinks I care. Cunning scoun-
drel ! he don't think that. Not he, not he. Never mind, I'll
thwart him — /, Newman Noggs. Ho, ho, the rascal ! "
Lashing himself up to an extravagant pitch of fur}'-, New-
man Noggs jerked himself about the room with the most
eccentric motion ever beheld in a human being ; now sparring
at the little miniatures on the wall, and now giving himself
violent thumps on the head, as if to heighten the delusion,
until he sank down in his former seat quite breathless and
exhausted.
" There," said Newman, picking up his hat ; " that's done
me good. Now I'm better, and I'll tell you all about it."
It took some little time to reassure Miss La Creevy, w-ho
had been almost frightened out of her senses by this remark-
404 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
able demonstration ; but that clone, Newman faithfully re-
lated all that had passed in the interview between Kate and
her uncle, prefacing his narrative with a statement of his
previous suspicions on the subject, and his reasons for form-
ing them ; and concluding with a communication of the step
he had taken in secretly writing to Nicholas.
Though little Miss La Creevy's indignation was not so
singularly displayed as Newman's, it was scarcely inferior in
violence and intensity. Indeed if Ralph Nickleby had hap-
pened to make his appearance in the room at that moment,
there is some doubt whether he would not have found Miss
La Creevy a more dangerous opponent than even Newman
Noggs himself.
" God forgive me for saying so," said Miss La Creevy, as
a wind-up to all her expressions of anger, " but I really feel as
if I could stick this into him with pleasure."
It was not a very awful weapon that Miss La Creevy held,
it being in fact nothing more nor less than a black-lead pencil ;
but discovering her mistake, the little portrait painter, ex-
changed it for a mother-of-pearl fruit knife, wherewith, in proof
of her desperate thoughts, she made a lunge as she spoke,
which would have scarcely disturbed the crumb of a half-
quartern loaf.
" She won't stop where she is, after to-night," said New-
man. "That's a comfort."
" Stop ! " cried Miss La Creevy, " she should have left
there, weeks ago."
— " If we had known of this," rejoined Newman. " But
we didn't. Nobody could properly interfere but her mother
or brother. The mother's weak — poor thing — weak. The
""•' dear young man will be here to-night."
" Heart alive ! " cried Miss La Creevy. " He" will do
something desperate, Mr. Noggs, if you tell him all at once."
Newman left off rubbing his hands, and assumed a thought-
ful look.
" Depend upon it," said Miss La Creevy, earnestly, " if
you are not very careful in breaking out the truth to him, he
will do some violence upon his uncle or one of these men that
will bring some terrible calamity upon his own head, and grief
and sorrow to us all."
" I never thought of that," rejoined Newman, his counten-
ance falling more and more. " I came to ask you to receive
his sister in case he brought her here, but — "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
405
"But this is a matter of much greater importance," inter-
rupted Miss La Creevy ; " that you might have been sure of
before you came, but the end of this, nobody can forsee, unless
you are very guarded and careful."
" What can I do ? " cried Newman, scratching his head
with an air of great vexation and perplexity. '' If he was to
talk of pistolling 'em all, I should be obliged to say, ' Certainly.
Serve 'em right.' "
Miss La Creevy could not suppress a small shriek on hear-
ing this, and instantly set about extorting a solemn pledge
from Newman, that he would use his utmost endeavors to
pacify the wrath of Nicholas ; which, after some demur, was
conceded. They then consulted together on the safest and
surest mode of communicating to him the circumstances
which had rendered his presence necessary.
" He must have time to cool before he can possibly do any-
thing," said Miss La Creevy. " That is of the greatest con-
sequence. He must not be told until late at night."
" But he'll be in town between six and seven this evening,"
replied Newman. " / can't keep it from him when he asks
me."
" Then you must go out, Mr. Noggs," said Miss La Creevy.
" You can easily have been kept away by business, and must
not return till nearly midnight."
" Then he'll come straight here," retorted Newman.
" So I suppose," observed Miss La Creevy ; "but he won't
find me at home, for I'll go straight to the City, the instant
you leave me, make up matters with Mrs. Nickleby, and take
her away to the theatre, so that he may not even know where
his sister lives."
Upon further discussion, this appeared the safest and most
feasible mode of proceeding that could possibly be adopted.
Therefore it was finally determined that matters should be so
arranged. Newman, after listening to many supplementary
cautions and entreaties, took his leave of Miss La Creevy
and trudged back to Golden Square, ruminating as he went
upon a vast number of possibilities and impossibilities which
crowded upon his brain, and arose out of the conversation
that had just terminated.
4o6
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
CHAPTER XXXII.
RELATING CHIEFLY TO SOME REMARKABLE CONVERSATION, AND
SOME REMARKABLE PROCEEDINGS TO WHICH IT GIVES
RISE.
" London at last ! " cried Nicholas, throwing back his
great-coat and rousing Smike from a long nap. " It seemed
to me as though we should never reach it."
" And yet you came along at a tidy pace too," observed
the coachman, looking over his shoulder at Nicholas with no
very pleasant expression of countenance.
"Ay, I know that," was the reply, "but I have been very
anxious to to be at my journey's end, and that makes the way
seem long."
" Well," remarked the coachman, " if the way seemed long
with such cattle as you've sat behind, you 77iust have been
most uncommon anxious ; " and so saying, he let out his whip-
lash and touched up a little boy on the calves of his legs by
way of emphasis.
They ratded on through the noisy, bustling, crowded streets
of London, now displaying long double rows of brightly-burn-
ing lamps, dotted here and there with the chemists' glaring
lights, and illuminated besides with the brilliant flood that
streamed from the windows of the shops, where sparkling jewel-
lery, silks and velvets of the richest colors, the most inviting
delicacies, and most sumptuous articles of luxurious ornaments
succeeded each other in rich and glittering profusion. Streams
of people apparently without end poured on and on, jostling
each other in the crowd and hurr^-ing forward, scarcely seem-
ing to notice the riches that surrounded them on every side ;
while vehicles of all shapes and makes, mingled up together
in one moving mass like running water, lent their ceaseless
roar to swell the noise and tumult.
As they dashed by the quickly-changing and ever-varying
objects, it was curious to observe in what a strange procession
they passed before the eye. Emporiums of splendid dresses,
the materials brought from every quarter of the world ; tempt-
ing stores of everything to stimulate and pamper the sated
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 407
appetite and give new relish to the oft-repeated feast ; vessels
of burnished gold and silver, wrought into every exquisite
form of vase, and dish, and goblet ; guns, swords, pistols and
patent engines of destruction ; screws and irons for the crooked,
clothes for the newly-born, drugs for the sick, coffins for the
dead, churchyards for the buried — all these jumbled each with
the other and flockir.g side by side, seemed to flit by in motley
dance like the fantastic groups of the old Dutch painter, and
with the same stern moral for the unheeding restless crowd.
Nor were there wanting objects in the crowd itself to give
new point and purpose to the shifting scene. The rags of the
squalid ballad-singer fluttered in the rich light that showed
the goldsmith's treasures ; pale and pinched-up faces hovered
about the windows where was tempting food ; hungry eyes
wandered over the profusion guarded by one thin sheet of
brittle glass — an iron wall to them ; half-naked shivering fig-
ures stopped to gaze at Chinese shawls and golden stuffs ot„,S^Od-
f-^rndia. There was a christening party at the la^^^, coffin- | ^^
\ maker's, alTrrttmcroHrateWmarTraTs^o^e^ great im- ^ ^
) provements in the bravest mansion. Life and death went I
y hand in hand ; wealth and poverty stood side by side ; reple- \
Ction and starvation laid them down together. -^
But it was London ; and the old country lady inside, who
had put her head out of the coach-window a mile or two on
this side of Kingston, and had cried out to the driver that she
was sure he must have passed it and forgotten to set her down,
was satisfied at last.
Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn
where the coach stopped, and repaired, without the delay of
another moment, to the lodgings of Newman Noggs ; for his
anxiety and impatience had increased with every succeeding
minute, and were almost beyond control.
There was a fire in Newman's garret, and a candle had
been left burning ; the floor was cleanly swept, the room was
as comfortably arranged as such a room could be, and meat
and drink were placed in order upon the table. Everything
bespoke the affectionate care and attention of Newman Noggs,
but Newman himself was not there.
" Do you know what time he will be home ? " inquired
Nicholas, tapping at the door of Newman's front neighbor.
"Ah, Mr. Johnson ! " said Crowl, presenting himself.
" Welcome, sir. — How well you're looking ! I never could
have believed "
4o8
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Pardon me," interposed Nicholas. " My question — I am
extremely anxious to know."
" Why, he has a troublesome affair of business," replied
Crowl, " and will not be home before twelve o'clock. He was
very unwilling to go, I can tell you, but there was no help for
it. However, he left word that you were to make yourself
comfortable till he came back, and that I was to entertain you,
which I shall be very glad to do."
In proof of his extreme readiness to exert himself for the
general entertainment, Mr. Crowl drew a chair to the table as
he spoke, and helping himself plentifully to the cold meat,
invited Nicholas and Smike to follow his example.
Disappointed and uneasy, Nicholas could touch no food,
so, after he had seen Smike comfortably established at the
table, he walked out (despite a great many dissuasions uttered
by Mr. Crowl with his mouth full), and left Smike to detain
Newman in case he returned first.
As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook him-
self straight to her house. Finding her from home, he debated
within himself for some time whether he should go to his
mother's residence and so compromise her with Ralph Nickle-
by. Fully persuaded, however, that Newman would not have
solicited him to return unless there was some strong reason
which required his presence at home, he resolved to go there,
and hastened eastwards with all speed.
Mrs. Nickleby would not be at home, the girl' said, until
past twelve, or later. She believed Miss Nickleby was well,
but she didn't live at home now, nor did she come home except
very seldom. She couldn't say where she was stopping, but
it was not at Madame Mantalini's. She was sure of that.
With his heart beating violently, and apprehending he
knew not what disaster, Nicholas returned to where he had
left Smike. Newman had not been home. He wouldn't be,
till twelve o'clock ; there was no chance of it. Was there no
possibility of sending to fetch him if it were only for an in-
stant, or forwarding to him one line of writing to which he
might return a verbal reply ? That was quite impracticable.
He was not at Golden Square, and probably had been sent
to execute some commission at a distance.
Nicholas tried to remain quietly where he was, but he feft
so nervous and excited that he could not sit still. He seemed
to be losing time unless he was moving. It was an absurd
fancy, he knew, but he was wholly unable to resist it. So, he
took up his hat and rambled out again.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
409
He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets
with hurried footsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings
and apprehensions which he could not overcome. He passed
into Hyde Park, now silent and deserted, and increased his
rate of walking as if in the hope of lea\ ing his thoughts be-
hind. They crowded upon him more thickly, however, now
there were no passing objects to attract his attention ; and
the one idea was always uppermost, that some stroke of ill-
fortune must have occurred so calamitous in its nature that
all were fearful of disclosing it to him. The old question
arose again and again — What could it be ? Nicholas walked
till he was weary, but was not one bit the wiser ; and indeed
he came out of the Park at last a great deal more confused
and perplexed than he had gone into it.
Pie had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink since
early in the morning, and felt quite worn out and exhausted.
As he returned languidly towards the point from which he had
started, along one of the thoroughfares which lie between
Park Lane and Bond Street, he passed a handsome hotel,
before which he stopped mechanically.
"An expensive place, I dare say," thought Nicholas ; "but
a pint of wine and a biscuit are no great debauch wherever
they are had. And yet I don't know."
He walked on a few steps, but looking wistfully down the
long vista of gas-lamps before him, and thinking how long it
would take to reach the end of it — and being besides in that
kind of mood in which a man is most disposed to yield to his
first impulse — and being, besides, strongly attracted to the
hotel, in part by curiosity, and in part by some odd mixture
of feelings which he would have been troubled to define —
Nicholas turned back again, and walked into the coffee-room.
It was very handsomely furnished. The walls were orna-
mented with the choicest specimens of French paper, en-
riched with a gilded cornice of elegant design. The floor
was covered with a rich carpet ; and two superb mirrors, one
above the chimney-piece and one at the opposite end of the
room reaching from lioor to ceiling, multiplied the other beau-
ties and added new ones of their own to enhance the general
effect. There was rather a noisy party of four gentlemen in
a box by the fire-place, and only two other persons present-
both elderly gentlemen, and both alone.
Observing all this in the first comprehensive glance with
which a stranger surveys a place that is new to him, Nicholas
4 1 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
sat himself down in the box next to the noisy party, with his
back towards them, and postponing his order for a pint of
claret until such time as the waiter and one of the elderly
gentlemen should have settled a disputed question relative to
the price of an item in the bill of fare, took up a newspaper
and began to read.
He had not read twenty lines, and was in truth half-
dozing, when he was startled by the mention of his sister's
name. " Little Kate Nickleby " were the words that caught
his ear. He raised his head in amazement, and as he did so,
saw by the reflection in the opposite glass, that tvv'o of the
party behind him had risen and were standing before the fire.
" It must have come from one of them," thought Nicholas.
He waited to hear more with a countenance of some indigna-
tion, for the tone of speech had been anything but respectful,
and the appearance of the individual whom he presumed to
have been the speaker was coarse and swaggering.
This person — so Nicholas observed in the same glance at
the mirror which had enabled him to see his face — was stand-
ing with his back to the fire conversing with a younger man,
who stood with his back to the company, wore his hat, and
was adjusting his shirt collar by the aid of the glass. They
spoke in whispers, now and then bursting into a loud laugh,
but Nicholas could catch no repetition of the words, nor any-
thino; sounding at all like the words, which had attracted his
attention.
At length the two resumed their seats, and more wine
being ordered, the party grew louder in their mirth. Still
there was no reference made to anybody with whom he was
acquainted, and Nicholas became persuaded that his excited
fancy had either imagined the sounds altogether, or converted
some other words into the name which had been so much in
his thoughts.
" It is remarkable too," thought Nicholas : " if it had been
' Kate ' or ' Kate Nickleby,' I should not have been so much
surprised ; but 'little Kate Nickleby ! '"
The wine coming at the moment prevented his finishing
the sentence. He swallowed a glassful and took up the paper
again. At that instant
" Little Kate Nickleby ! " cried a voice behind him.
" I was right," muttered Nicholas as the paper fell from
his hand. " And it was the man I supposed."
" As there was a proper objection to drinking her in heel-
NICHdLAS NICKLEB V. 41 1
taps," said the voice, " we'll give her the first glass in the new
magnum. Little Kate Nickleby ! "
" Little Kate Nickleby," cried the other three. And the
glasses were set down empty.
Keenly alive to the tone and manner of this slight and
careless mention of his sister's name in a public place, Nicho-
las fired at once ; but he kept himself quiet by a great effort,
and did not even turn his head.
" The jade ! " said the same voice which had spoken be-
fore. " She's a true Nickleby — a worthy imitator of her old
vmcle Ralph — she hangs back to be more sought after — so
does he ; nothing to be got out of Ralph unless you follow
him up, and then the money comes douloly welcome, and the
bargain doubly hard, for you're impatient and he isn't. Oh !
infernal cunning."
" Infernal cunning," echoed two voices.
Nicholas wafe in a perfect agony as the two elderly gentle-
men opposite, rose one after the other and went away, lest
they should be the means of his losing one word of what was
said. But the conversation was suspended as they withdrew,
and resumed with even greater freedom when they had left
the room.
" I am afraid," said the younger gentleman, " that the old
woman has grown jea-a-lous, and locked her up. Upon my
soul it looks like it."
" If they quarrel and little Nickleby goes home to her
mother, so much the better," said the first. " I can do any-
thing with the old lady. She'll believe anything I tell her."
" Egad that's true," returned the other voice. " Ha, ha,
ha ! Poor deyvle ! "
The laugh was taken up by the two voices which always
came in together, and became general at Mrs. Nickleby's ex-
pense. Nicholas turned burning hot with rage, but he com-
manded himself for the moment, and waited to hear more.
What he heard need not be repeated here. Suffice it that
as the wine went round he heard enough to acquaint him with
the characters and designs of those whose conversation he
overheard ; to possess him with the full extent of Ralph's
villan}^ and the real reason of his own presence being re-
quired in London. He heard all this and more. He heard
his sister's sufferings derided, and her virtuous conduct jeered
at and brutally misconstrued ; he heard her name bandied
from mouth to mouth, and herself made the subject of coarse
and insolent wagers, free speech, and licentious jesting.
412 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The man who had spoken first, led the conversation and
indeed ahnost engrossed it, being only stimulated from time
to time by some slight observation from one or other of his
companions. To him then Nicholas addressed himself when
he was sufficiently composed to stand before the party, and
force the words from his parched and scorching throat.
" Let me have a word with you, sir," said Nicholas.
" With me, sir ? " retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him
in disdainful surprise.
" I said with you," replied Nicholas, speaking with great
difficulty, for his passion choked him.
" A mysterious stranger, upon my soul ! " exclaimed Sir
Mulberry, raising his wine-glass to his lips, and looking round
upon his friends.
" Will you step apart with me for a few minutes, or do
you refuse .-' " said Nicholas sternly.
Sir Mulberry merely paused in the act of drinking, and
bade him either name his business or leave the table.
Nicholas drew a card from his pocket, and threw it before
him.
" There, sir," said Nicholas ; " my business you will guess."
A momentary expression of astonishment, not unmixed
with some confusion, appeared in the face of Sir Mulberry as
he read the name ; but he subdued it in an instant, and toss-
ing the card to Lord Frederick Verisopht, who sat opposite,
drew a tooth-pick from a glass before him, and very leisurely
applied it to his mouth.
" Your name and address .'' " said Nicholas, turning paler
as his passion kindled.
" I shall give you neither," replied Sir Mulberry.
" If there is a gentleman in this party," said Nicholas,
looking round and scarcely able to make his white lips form
the words, " he will acquaint me with the name and residence
of this man."
There was a dead silence.
" I am the brother of the young lady who has been the
subject of conversation here," said Nicholas. " I denounce
this person as a liar, and impeach him as a coward. If he
has a friend here, he will save him the disgrace of the paltry
attempt to conceal his name — an utterly useless one — for I
will find it out, nor leave him until I have."
Sir Mulberry looked at him contemptuously, and, address-
ing his companions, said —
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
413
" Let the fellow talk. I have nothing serious to say to
boys of his station ; and his pretty sister shall save him a
broken head, if he talks till midnight."
" You are a base and spiritless scoundrel ! " said Nicholas,
" and shall be proclaimed so to the world. I 7mll know you;
I will follow you home if you walk the streets till morning."
Sir Mulberry's hand involuntarily closed upon the de-
canter, and he seemed for an instant about to launch it at the
head of his challenger. But he only filled his glass, and
laughed in derision.
Nicholas sat himself down, directly opposite to the party,
and, summoning the waiter, paid his bill.
"Do you know that person's name? " he inquired of the
man in an audible voice, pointing out Sir Mulberry as he put
the question.
Sir Mulberry laughed again, and the two voices which
had always sjDoken together, echoed the laugh ; but rather
feebly.
" That gentleman, sir ? " replied the waiter, who, no
doubt, knew his cue, and answered with just as little respect,
and just as much impertinence as he could safely show : " no,
sir, I do not, sir."
" Here, you sir ! " cried Sir Mulberr}^ as the man was
retiring. " Do you know that person's name .'' "
" Name, sir ? No, sir."
" Then you'll find it there," said Sir Mulberry, throwing
Nicholas's, card towards him : " and when you have made
yourself master of it, put that piece of pasteboard in the fire."
The man grinned, and, looking doubtfully at Nicholas,
compromised the matter by sticking the card in the chimney-
glass. Having done this, he retired.
Nicholas folded his arms, and, biting his lip, sat perfectly
quiet ; sufficiently expressing by his manner, however, a firm
determination to carry his threat of following Sir Mulberry
home, into steady execution.
It was; evident from the tone in which the younger mem-
ber of the party appeared to remonstrate with his friend, that
he objected to this course of proceeding, and urged him to
comply with the request which Nicholas had made. Sir
Mulberry, however, who was not quite sober, and who was in
a sullen and dogged state of obstinacy, soon silenced the rep-
resentations of his weak young friend, and further seemed — as
if to save himself from a repetition of them — to insist on being
414 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
left alone. However this might have been, the young gentle-
man and the two who had always spoken together, actually
rose to go after a short interval, and presently retired, leaving
their friend alone with Nicholas.
It will be very readily supposed that to one in the condi-
tion of Nicholas the minutes appeared to move with leaden
wings indeed, and that their progress did not seem the more
rapid from the monotonous ticking of a French clock, or the
shrill sound of its little bell which told the quarters. But
there he sat ; and in his old seat on the opposite side of the
room reclined Sir Mulberry Hawk, with his legs upon the
cushion, and his handkerchief thrown negligently over his
knees ; finishing his magnum of claret with the utmost coolness
and inditference.
Thus they remained in perfect silence for upwards of an
hour — Nicholas would have thought for three hours at least,
but that the little bell had only gone four times. Twice or
thrice he looked angrily and impatiently round ; but there
was Sir Mulberry in the same attitude, putting his glass to
his lips from time to time, and looking vacantly at the wall,
as if he were wholly ignorant of the presence of any living
person.
At length he yawned, stretched himself and rose, walked
coolly to the glass, and, having surveyed himself therein,
turned round and honored Nicholas with a long and con-
temptuous stare. Nicholas stared again with right good-
will j Sir Mulberry shrugged his shoulders, smiled slightly,
rang the bell, and ordered the waiter to help him on with his
great-coat.
The man did so, and held the door open.
" Don't wait," said Sir Mulberry ; and they were alone
again.
Sir Mulberr}' took several turns up and down the room,
whistling carelessly all the time : stopped to finish the last
glass of claret which he had poured out a few minutes before,
walked again, put on his hat, adjusted it by the glass, drew
on his gloves, and, at last, walked slowly out. Nicholas, who
had been fuming and chafing until he was nearly wild, darted
from his seat, and followed him : so closely, that before the
door had swung upon its hinges after Sir Mulberry's passing
out, they stood side by side in the street together.
There was a private cabriolet in waiting ; the groom opened
the apron, and jumped out to the horse's head.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 415
" Will you make yourself known to me ? " asked Nicholas,
in a suppressed voice.
" No," replied the other fiercely, and confirming the refusal
with an oath. " No."
" If you trust to your horse's speed, you will find yourself
mistaken," said Nicholas. "I will accompany you. By
Heaven 1 will, if I hang on to the foot-board ! "
" You shall be horsewhipped if you do," returned Sir Mul-
berry.
" You are a villain," said Nicholas.
"You are an errand-boy for aught I know," said Sir Mul-
berry Hawk.
" I am the son of a country gentleman," returned Nicholas,
" your equal in birth and education, and your superior I trust
in everything besides. I tell you again. Miss Nickleby is my
sister. Will you or will you not answer for your unmanly and
brutal conduct ? "
" To a proper champion — yes. To you — no," returned
Sir Mulberry, taking the reins in his hand. " Stand out of the
way, dog. William, let go her head."
" You had better not," cried Nicholas, springing on the
step as Sir Mulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins.
"He has no command over the horse, mind. You shall not
go — you shall not, I swear — till you have told me who you
are."
The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high-spirited
animal and thorough-bred, plunged so violently that he could
scarcely hold her.
" Leave go, I tell you ! " thundered his master.
The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as
though it would dash the carriage into a thousand pieces, but
Nicholas, blind to all sense of danger, and conscious of
nothing but his fury, still maintained his place and his hold
upon the reins.
" Will you unclasp your hand } "
" Will you tell me who you are .^ "
"No!"
"No!"
In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it, these
words were exchanged, and Sir Mulberry shortening his whip,
applied it furiously to the head and shoulders of Nicholas.
It was broken in the struggle ; Nicholas gained the heavy
handle, and with it laid open one side of his antagonist's face
4i6
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
from the eye to the lip. He saw the gash ; knew that the mare
had darted off at a wild mad gallop ; a hundred lights danced
in his eyes, and he felt himself flung violently upon the ground.
He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly,
roused by the loud shouts of the men who were tearing up the
street, and screaming to those ahead to clear the way. He
was conscious of a torrent of people rushing quickly by — look-
ing up, could discern the cabriolet whirled along the foot
pavement with frightful rapidity — then heard a loud cry, the
smashing of some heavy body, and the breaking of glass —
and then the crowd closed in in the distance, and he could
see or hear no more.
The general attention had been entirely directed from
himself to the person in the carriage, and he was quite alone.
Rirditlv iudfrins: that under such circumstances it would be
madness to follow, he turned down a by-street ni search of the
nearest coach-stand, finding after a minute or two that he was
reeling like a drunken man, and aware for the first time of a
stream of blood that was trickling down his face and breast.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
IN WHICH MR. RALPH NICKLEBY IS RELIEVED, BY A VERY
EXPEDITIOUS PROCESS, FROM ALL COMMERCE WITH HIS
RELATIONS.
Smike and Newman Noggs, who in his impatience had
returned home long before the time agreed upon, sat before
the fire, listening anxiously to every footstep on the stairs,
and the slightest sound that stirred within the house, for the
approach of Nicholas. Time had worn on, and it was grow-
ing late. He had promised to be back in an hour ; and his
prolonged absence began to excite considerable alarm in the
minds of both, as was abundantly testified by the blank looks
they cast upon each other at every new disappointment.
At length a coach was heard to stop, and Newman ran out
to light Nicholas up the stairs. Beholding him in the trim
described at the conclusion of the last chapter, he stood aghast
in wonder and consternation.
" Don't be alarmed," said Nicholas, hurrying him back
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 417
into the room. " There is no harm done, beyond what a basin
of water can repair."
" No harm ! " cried Newman, passing his hands hastilj/
over the back and arms of Nicholas, as if to assure himself
that he had broken no bones. "■ What have you been doing ? "
" f know all," interrupted Nicholas ; " I have heard apart,
and guessed the rest. But before I remove one jot of these
stains, I must hear the whole from you. You see I am col-
lected. My resolution is taken. Now, my good friend, speak
out ; for the time of any palliation or concealment is past, and
nothing will avail Ralph Nickleby now."
" Your dress is torn in several places ; you walk lame, and
I am sure are suffering pain," said Newman. Let me see
to your hurts first."
" I have no hurts to see to, beyond a little soreness and
stiffness that will soon pass off," said Nicholas, seating him-
s-^^lf with some difficulty. " But if I had fractured every limb,
and still preserved my senses, you should not bandage one
till you had told me what I have the right to know. Come,"
said Nicholas, giving his hand to Noggs. " You had a sister
of your own, you told me once, who died before you fell into
misfortune. Now think of her, and tell me, Newman."
" Yes, I will, I will," said Noggs. " I'll tell you the whole
truth."
Newman did so. Nicholas nodded his head from time
to time, as it corroborated the particulars he had already
gleaned ; but he fixed his eyes upon the fire, and did not look
round once.
His recital ended, Newman insisted upon his young
friend's stripping off his coat, and allowing whatever injuries
he had received to be properly tended. Nicholas, after some
opposition, at length consented, and, while some pretty severe
bruises on his arms and shoulders were beinsf rubbed with oil
and vmegar, and various other efficacious remedies which
Newman borrowed from the different lodgers, related in what
manner they had been received. The recital made a strong
impression on the warm imagination of Newman ; for when
Nicholas came to the violent part of the quarrel, he rubbed
so hard, as to occasion him the most exquisite pain, which he
would not have exhibited, however, for the world, it being
perfectly clear that, for the moment, Newman was operating
on Sir Mulberry Hawk, and had quite lost sight of his real
patient.
4 1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
This martyrdom over, Nicholas arranged with Newman
that while he was otherwise occupied next morning, arrange-
ments should be made for his mother's immediately quitting
her present residence, and also for despatching Miss La
Creevy to break the intelligence to her. He then wrapped
himself in Smike's great-coat, and repaired to the inn where
they were to pass the night, and where (after writing a few
lines to Ralph, the delivery of which was to be intrusted to
Newman next day), he endeavored to obtain the repose of
which he stood so much in need.
Drunken men, they say, may roll down precipices, and be
quite unconscious of any serious personal inconvenience when
their reason returns. The remark may possibly apply to in-
juries received in other kinds of violent excitement ; certain
it is, that although Nicholas experienced some pain on first
awakening next morning, he sprung out of bed as the clock
struck seven, with very little difficulty, and was soon as much
on the alert as if nothing had occurred.
Merely looking into Smike's room, and telling him that
Newman Noggs would call for him very shortly, Nicholas
descended into the street, and calling a hackney-coach, bade
the man drive to Mrs. Wititterly's, according to the direction
which Newman had given him on the previous night.
It wanted a quarter to eight when they reached Cadogan
Place. Nicholas began to fear that no one might be stirring
at that early hour, when he was relieved by the sight of a
female servant, employed in cleaning the door-steps. By this
functionary he was referred to the doubtful page, who ap-
peared with dishevelled hair and a very warm and glossy face,
as of a page who had just got out of bed.
By this young gentleman he was informed that Miss Nick-
leby was then taking her morning's walk in the gardens be-
fore the house. On the question being propounded whether
he could go and find her, the page desponded and thought
not ; but being slimulated with a shilling, the page grew san-
guine and thought he could.
" Say to Miss Nickleby that her brother is here, and in
great haste to see her," said Nicholas.
The plated buttons disappeared with an alacrity most un-
usual to them, and Nicholas paced the room in a state of
feverish agitation which made the delay even of a minute in-
supportable. He soon heard a light footstep which he well
knew, and before he could advance to meet her, Kate had
fallen on his neck and burst into tears.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 4 , cj
•'My darling girl," said Nicholas as he embraced her.
" How pale you are ! "
" I have been so unhappy here, dear brother," sobbed
poor Kate ; " so very, very miserable. Do not leave me here,
dear Nicholas, or I shall die of a broken heart."
"I will leave you nowhere," answered Nicholas — "never
again, Kate," he cried, moved in spite of himself as he folded
her to his heart. ''.Tell me that I acted for the best. Tell
rne that we parted because T feared to bring misfortune on
yqu£Keacl I that it,.'^^.^^t4al to me no less than to yourself,
and that if 1 did wrong it was in ignorance of tlie world and
i^iknowingly."
" Why should I tell you what we know so well ? " returned
Kate soothingly. " Nicholas — dear Nicholas — how can you
give way thus ? "
" It is such bitter reproach to me to know what you have
undergone," returned her brother; "to see you so much
altered, and yet so kind and patient — God ! " cried Nicholas,
clenching his fist and suddenly changing his tone and manner,
" it sets my whole blood on fire again. You must leave here
with me directly ; you should not have slept here last night,
but that I knew all this too late. To whom can I speak, be-
fore we drive away ? "
This question was most opportunely put, for that instant
Mr. Wititterly walked in, and to him Kate introduced her
brother, who at once announced his purpose, and the impossi-
bility of deferring it.
" The quarter's notice," said Mr. Wititterly, with the
gravity of a man on the right side, " is not yet half expired.
Therefore — "
" Therefore," interposed Nicholas, " the quarter's salary
must be lost, sir. You will excuse this extreme haste, but
circumstances require that I should immediately remove my
sister, and I have not a moment's time to lose. Whatever
she brought here I will send for, if you will allow me, in the
course of the day."
Mr. Wititterly bowed, but offered no opposition to Kate's
immediate departure ; with which, indeed, he was rather grati-
fied than otherwise. Sir Tumley Snufifim having given it as
his opinion, that she rather disagreed with Mrs. Wititterly's
constitution.
" With regard to the trifle of salary that is due," said Mr.
Wititterly, " T will — " here he was interrupted bv a violent fit
of coughing — " i will— owe it to Miss Nickleby,"
^2o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Mr. Wititterly, it should be observed, was accustomed to
owe small accounts, and to leave them owing. All men have
some little pleasant way of their own ; and this was Mr.
Wititterly's.
" If you please," said Nicholas. And once more offering
a hurried apology for so sudden a departure, he hurried Kate
into the vehicle, and bade the man drive with all speed into
the City.
To the City they went accordingly, with all the speed the
hackney-coach could make ; and as the horses happened to live
at Whitechapel and to be in the habit of taking their break-
fast there, when they breakfasted at all, they performed the
journey with greater expedition than could reasonably have
been expected.
Nicholas sent Kate up stairs a few minutes before him,
that his unlooked-for appearance might not alarm liis mother,
and when the way had been paved, presented himself -with
much duty and affection. Newman had not been idle, for
there was a little cart at the door, and the effects were hurry-
ingjQ.ut already.
£^aw, Mrs. Nickleby was not the sort of person to be told
anything in a hurry, or rather to comprehend ^^aflvthing of
peculiar delicacy or importance on a shojX,,,noticeJ Where-
fore, although the good lady had been subjected to a full
hour's preparation by little Miss La Creevy, and was now ad-
dressed in most lucid terms both by Nicholas and his sister,
she was in a state of singular bewilderment and confusion,
and could by no means be made to comprehend the necessity
of such hurried proceedings.
" Why don't you ask your uncle, my dear Nicholas, what
he can possibly mean by it ? " said Mrs. Nickleby.
"My dear mother," returned Nicholas, "the time for
talking has gone by. There is but one step to take, and that
is to cast him off with the scorn and indignation he deserves.
Your own honor and good name demand that, after the dis-
covery of his vile proceedings, you should not be beholden to
him one hour, even for the shelter of these bare walls."
" To be sure," said Mrs. Nickleby, crying bitterly, " he is
a brute, a monster ; and the walls are very bare, and want
painting too, and I ha\e had this ceiling white-washed at the
expense of eighteen-pence, which is a very distressing thing,
considering that it is so much gone into your uncle's pocket.
I never could have believed it — never."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 42 1
" Nor I, nor anybody else," said Nicholas.
" Lord bless my life ! " exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby. " To
think that that Sir Mulberry Hawk should be such an aban-
doned wretch as Miss La Creevy says he is, Nicholas, my
dear ; when I was cong;ratulating myself ever}- day on his be-
ing an admirer of our dear Kate's, and thinking what a thing
it would be for the family if he was to become connected
with us, and use his interest to get you some profitable govern-
ment place. There are very good places to be got about the
court, I know ; for a friend of ours (Mr. Cropley, at Exeter,
my dear Kate, you recollect), he had one, and I know that it
was the chief part of his duty to wear silk stockings, and a
bag wig like a black watch-pocket ; and to think that it should
come to this after all — oh, dear, dear, it's enough to kill one,
that it is ! " With which expressions of sorrow, Mrs. Nickleby
gave fresh vent to her grief, and wept piteously.
As Nicholas and his sister were by this time compelled to
superintend the removal of the few articles of furniture. Miss
La Creevy devoted herself to the consolation of the matron,
and observed with great kindness of manner that she must
really make an effort, and cheer up.
" Oh I dare say, Miss La Creevy," returned Mrs. Nickle-
by, with a petulance not unnatural in her unhappy circum-
stances, " it's very easy to say cheer up, but if you had as many
occasions to cheer up as I have had and tliere," said Mrs.
Nickleby, stopping short, " Think of Mr. Pyke and Mr. Pluck,
two of the most perfect gentlemen that ever lived, what am I
to say to them — what can I say to them ? Why, if I was to
say to them, ' I'm told your friend Sir Mulberry is a base
wretch,' they'd laugh at me."
" They will laugh no more at us, I take it," said Nicholas,
advancing. " Come, mother, there is a coach at the door,
and until Monday, at all events, we will return to our old
quarters."
— "Where everything is ready, and a hearty welcome into
the bargain," added Miss La Creevy. " Now, let me go with
you down stairs."
But Mrs. Nickleby w^as not to be so easily moved, for first
she insisted on going up stairs to see that nothing had been
left, and then on going down stairs to see that everything had
been taken away ; and when she was getting into the coach
she had a vision of a forgotten coffee-pot on the back-kitchen
hob, and after she was shut in, a dismal recollection of a green
42 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
umbrella behind some unknown door. At last Nicholas, in a
condition of absolute despair, ordered the coachman to drive
. away, and in the unexpected jerk of a sudden starting, Mrs.
/ Nickleby lost a shilling among the straw, which fortunately
I confined her attention to the coach until it was too late to re-
\member anything else.
Having seen everything safely out, discharged the servant,
and locked the door, Nicholas jumped into a cabriolet and
drove to a by-place near Golden Square where he had ap-
pointed to meet Noggs ; and so quickly had everything been
done, that it was barely half-past nine when he reached the
place of meeting.
" Here is the letter for Ralph," said Nicholas, "and here
the key. When you come to me this evening, not a word of
last night. Ill news travels fast, and they will know it soon
enough. Ha\'e you heard if he was much hurt ? "
Newman shook his head.
" I will ascertain that, myself, without loss of time," said
Nicholas.
" You had better take some rest," returned Newman. " You
are fevered and ill."
Nicholas waved his hand carelessly, and concealing the
indisposition he really felt, now that the excitement which
had sustained him was over, took a hurried farewell of New-
man Noggs, ajnd left him.
Newman was not three minutes' walk from Golden Square,
but in the course of that three minutes he took the letter out
of his hat and put it in again twenty times at least. First the
front, then the back, then the sides, then the superscription,
then the seal, were objects of Newman's admiration. Then
he held it at arm's length as if to take in the whole at one
delicious survey, and then he rubbed his hands in a perfect
ecstasy with his commission.
He reached the office, hung his hat on its accustomed peg,
laid the letter and key upon the desk, and waited impatiently
until Ralph Nickleby should appear. After a few minutes,
the well-known creaking of his boots was heard on the stairs,
and then the bell rung.
" Has the post come in ? "
"No."
" Any other letters ? "
" One." Newman eyed him closely, and laid it on the
desk.
NICHOLAS NICKL EB Y. 423
"What's this?" asked Ralph, taking up the key.
" Left with the letter ; — a boy brought them — quarter of
an hour ago, or less."
Ralph glanced at the direction, opened the letter, and
read as follows :
" You are known to me now. There are no reproaches I
could heap upon your head which would carry with them one
thousandth part of the grovelling shame that this assurance
will awaken even in your breast.
" Your brother's widow and her orphan child spurn the
shelter of your roof, and shun you with disgust and loathing.
Your kindred renounce you, for they know no shame but the
ties of blood which bind them in name with yoxx.
" You are an old man, and I leave you to the grave. May
every recollection of your life cling to your false heart, and
cast their darkness on your death-bed."
Ralph Nickleby read this letter twice, and frowning heav-
ily, fell into a fit of musing ; the paper fluttered from his hand
and dropped upon the floor, but he clasped his fingers, as if
he held it still.
Suddenl}^, he started from his seat, and thrusting it all
crumpled into his pocket, turned furiously to Newman Noggs,
as though to ask him why he lingered. But Newman stood
unmoved, with his back towards him, following up, with the
worn and blackened stump of an old pen, some figures in an
Interest-table which was pasted against the wall, and appar-
ently quite abstracted from every other object.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
WHEREIN MR. RALPH NICKLEBY IS VISITED BY PERSONS WITH
WHOM THE READER HAS BEEN ALREADY MADE ACQUAINTED.
" What a demnition long time you have kept me ringing
at this confounded old cracked tea-kettle of a bell, every tin-
kle of which is enough to throw a strong man into blue
convulsions, upon my life and soul, oh demmit," said Mr.
Mantalini to Newman Noggs, scraping his boots, as he spoke,
on Ralph Nickleby's scraper.
424 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I didn't hear the bell more than once," replied New-
man.
" Then you are most immensely and outr/geously deaf,"
said Mr. Mantalini, " as deaf as a demnition post."
Mr. Mantalini had got by this time into the passage, and
was making his way to the door of Ralph's office with very
little ceremony, when Newman interposed his body ; and
hinting that Mr. Nickleby was unwilling to be disturbed, in-
quired whether the client's business was of a pressing nature.
" It is most demnebly particular," said Mr. Mantalini.
" It is to melt some scraps of dirty paper into bright, shining,
chinking, tinkhng, demd mint sauce."
Newman uttered a significant grunt, and taking Mr. Man-
talini's proffered card, limped with it into his master's ofhce.
As he thrust his head in at the door, he saw that Ralph had
resumed the thoughtful posture into which he had fallen after
perusing his nephew's letter, and that he seemed to have been
reading it again, as he once more held it open in his hand.
The glance was but momentary, for Ralph, being disturbed,
turned to demand the cause of the interruption.
As Newman stated it, the cause himself, swaggered into
the room, and grasping Ralph's horny hand with uncommon
affection, vowed that he had never seen him looking so well
in all his life.
"There is quite a bloom upon your demd countenance,"
said Mr. Mantalini, seating himself unbidden, and arranging
his hair and whiskers. " You look quite juvenile and jolly,
demmit ! "
" We are alone," returned Ralph, tartly. " What do you
want with me ? "
" Good ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, displaying his teeth.
" What did I want ! Yes. Ha, ha ! Very good. What did
I want. Ha, ha. Oh dem ! "
" \\' hat do you want, man ? " demanded Ralph, sternly.
" Demnition discount," returned Mr. Mantalini, with a
grin, and shaking his head waggishly.
" Money is scarce," said Ralph.
" Demd scarce, or I shouldn't want it," internipted Mr.
Mantalini.
" The times are bad, and one scarcely knows whom to
trust," continued Ralph. " I don't want to do business just
now, in fact I would rather not ; but as you are a friend — how
many bills have you there ? "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 425
" Two," returned Mr. Mantalini.
" What is the gross amount ? "
" Demd trifling. Five-and-seventy."
" And the dates ? "
" Two months, and four."
"I'll do them for you — wivaA, iox you ; I wouldn't for
many people — for five-and-twenty pounds," said Ralph, delib-
erately.
" Oh demmit ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, whose face length-
ened considerably at tliis handsome proposal.
" Why, that leaves you fifty," retorted Ralph. " What
would you have ? Let me see the names."
" You are so demd hard, Nickleby," remonstrated Mr.
Mantalini.
" Let me see the names," replied Ralph, impatiently ex-
tending his hand for the bills. " Well ! They are not sure,
but they are safe enough. Do j'^ou consent to the terms, and
will you take the money .-• I don't want you to do so. I
would rather you didn't."
" Demmit, Nickleby, can't you — " began Mr. Mantalini.
" No," replied Ralph, interrupting him. " I can't. Will
you take the money — down, mind ; no delay, no going into
the city and pretending to negotiate with some other party
who has no existence and never had. Is it a bargain or is it
not ? "
Ralph pushed some papers from him as he spoke, and
carelessly rattled his cash-box, as though by mere accident.
The sound was too much for Mr. Mantalini. He closed the
bargain directly it reached his ears, and Ralph told the money
out upon the table.
He had scarcely done so, and Mr. Mantalini had not yet
gathered it all up, when a ring was heard at the bell, and im-
mediately afterwards Newman ushered in no less a person
than Madame Mantalini, at sight of whom Mr. Mantalini
evinced considerable discomposure, and swept the cash into
his pocket with remarkable alacrity.
" Oh, you ai-e here," said Madame Mantalini, tossing her
head.
" Yes, my life and soul, I am," replied her husband, drop-
ping on his knees, and pouncing with kitten-like playfulness
upon a stray sovereign. " I am here, my soul's delight, upon
Tom Tiddler's ground, picking up the demnition gold and
silver."
426
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" I am ashamed of you," said Madame Mantalini, with
much indignation.
" Ashamed ? Of me, my joy ? It knows it is talking
demd charming sweetness, but naughty fibs," returned Mr.
MantaUni. " It knows it is not ashamed of its own popo-
lorum tibby."
Wliatever were the circumstances which had led to such a
result, it certainly appeared as though the popolorum tibby
had rather miscalculated, for the nonce, the extent of his lady's
affection. Madame Mantalini only looked scornful in reply,
and, turning to Ralph, begged him to excuse her intrusion.
"Which is entirely attributable," said Madame, "to the
gross misconduct and most improper behavior of Mr. Man-
talini."
" Of me, my essential juice of pine-apple ! "
" Of you," returned his wife. " But I will not allow it. I
will not submit to be ruined by the extravagance and prof-
ligacy of any man. I call Mr. Nickleby to witness the course
I intend to pursue with you."
" Pray don't call me to witness anything, ma'am," said
Ralph. " Settle it between yourselves, settle it between j^our-
selves."
" No, but I must beg you as a favor," said Madame Man-
talini, " to hear me gi\e him notice of what it is my fixed
intention to do — my fixed intention, sir," repeated Madame
Mantalini, darting an angry look at her husband.
" Will she calT me, ' Sir ' ! " cried Mantalini. " Me who
doat upon her with the demdest ardor ! She, who coils her
fascinations round me like a pure and angelic rattlesnake ! It
will be all up with my feelings ; she will throw me into a demd
state."
"Don't talk of feelings, sir," rejoined Madame Mantalini,
seating herself, and turning her back upon him. " You don't
consider mine."
" I do not consider j^ours, my soul ! " exclaimed Mr. Man-
talini.
" No," replied his wife.
And notwithstanding various blandishments on the part of
Mr. Mantalini, Madame Mantalini still said no, and said it
too with such determined and resolute ill-temper, that Mr.
Mantalini was clearly taken aback.
" His extravagance, Mr. Nickleby," said Madame Man-
talini, addressing herself to Ralph, who leant against his
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
427
Kasy-chair wlLh his hands behind him, and regarded the
amiable couple with a smile of the supremest and most
unmitigated contempt, " his extravagance is beyond all
bounds."
" I should scarcely have supposed it," answered Ralph
sarcastically.
" I assure you, Mr. Nickleby, however, that it is," re-
turned Madame Mantalini. " It makes me miserable. I am
under constant apprehensions and in constant difficulty.
And even this," said Madame Mantalini, wiping her eyes, '' is
not the worst. He took some papers of value out of my desk
this morning without asking my permission."
Mr. Mantalini groaned slightly, and buttoned his trouser's
pocket.
"I am obliged," continued Madame Mantalini, "since our
late misfortunes, to pay Miss Knagg a great deal of money
for having her name in the business, and I really cannot
afford to encourage him in all his wastefulness. As I have
no doubt that he came straight here, Mr. Nickleby, to con-
vert the papers I have spoken of into money, and as you
have assisted us very often before, and are very much con-
nected with us in this kind of matters, 1 wish you to know
the determination at which his conduct has compelled me
to arrive."
Mr. Mantalini groaned once more from behind his wife's
bonnet, and fitting a sovereign into one of his eyes, winked
with the other at Ralph. Having achieved this performance
with great dexterity, he whipped the coin into his pocket, and
groaned again with increased penitence.
" I have made up my mind," said Madame Mantalini, as
tokens of impatience manifested themselves in Ralph's coun-
tenance, "to allowance him."
" To do what, my joy .'' " inquired Mr. Mantalini, who did
not seem to have caught the words.
" To put him," said Madame Mantalini, looking at Ralph,
and prudently abstaining from the slightest glance at her hus-
band, lest his many graces should induce her to falter in her
resolution, " to put him upon a fixed allowance ; and I say
that if he has a hundred and twenty pounds a-year for his
clothes and pocket-money, he may consider himself a very
fortunate man."
Mr. Mantalini waited, with much decorum, to hear the
amount of the proposed stipend, but when it reached his ears,
428 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
he cast his hat and cane upon the floor, and drawing out his
pocket-handkerchief, gave vent to his feehngs in a dismal
moan.
" Demnition ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, suddenly skipping
out of his chair, and as suddenly skipping into it again, to the
great discomposure of his lady's nerves. " But no. It is a
demd horrid dream. It is not reality. No ! "
Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr. Mantalini
closed his eyes and waited patiently till such time as he should
wake up.
" A very judicious arrangement," observed Ralph with a
sneer, " if your husband will keep within it, ma' am — as no
doubt he will."
" Demmit ! " exclaimed Mr. Mantalini, opening his eyes
at the sound of Ralph's voice, " it is a horrid reality. She is
sitting there before me. There is the graceful outline of her
form ; it cannot be mistaken — there is nothing like it. The
two countesses had no outlines at all, and the dowager's was
a demd outline. Why is she so excruciatingly beautiful that
I cannot be angry with her, even now ? "
" You have brought it upon yourself, Alfred," returned
Madame Mantalini — still reproachfully, but in a softened tone.
" I am a demd villain ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, smiting
himself on the head. " I will fill my pockets with change for
a sovereign in halfpence and drown myself in the Thames ;
but I will not be angry with her, even then, for I will put a
note in the twopenny-post as I go along, to tell her where the
body is. She will be a lovely widow. I shall be a body.
Some handsome women will cry ; she will laugh demnebly."
" Alfred, you cruel, cruel, creature," said Madame Manta-
lini, sobbing at the dreadful picture.
" She calls me cruel — me — me — who for her sake will be-
come a demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body ! " exclaimed
Mr. Mantalini.
" You know it almost breaks my heart, even to hear you
talk of such a thing, replied Madame Mantalini.
" Can I live to be mistrusted 1 " cried her husband.
" Have I cut my heart into a demd extraordinary number ot
little pieces, and given them all away, one after another, to
the same little engrossing demnition captivater, and can I live
to be suspected by !ier ! Demmit, no I can't."
" Ask Mr. Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned is
not a proper one," reasoned Madame Mantalini.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 429
" I don't want any sum," replied her disconsolate husband ;
" I shall require no demd allowance. I will be a body."
On this repetition of Mr. Mantalini's fatal threat, Madame
Mantalini wrung her hands, and implored the interference of
Ralph Nickleby ; and after a great quantity of tears and talk-
ing, and several attempts on the, part of Mr. Mantalini to
reach the door, preparatory to straightway committing vio-
lence upon himself, that gentleman w^as prevailed upon with
difficulty, to promise that he wouldn't be a body. This great
pomt attained, Madame Mantalini argued the question of the
allowance, and Mr. Mantalini did the same, taking occasion
to show that he could live with uncommon satisfaction upon
bread and water, and go clad in rags, but that he could not
support existence with the additional burden of being mis-
trusted by the object of his most devoted and disinterested
affection. This brought fresh tears into Madame Mantalini's
eyes, which ha\ing just begun to open to some few of the de-
merits of Mr. Mantalini, were only open a very little way, and
could be easily closed again. The result was, that without
quite giving up the allowance question Madame Mantalini
postponed its further consideration ; and Ralph saw, clearly
enough, that Mr. Mantalini had gained a fresh lease of his
easy life, and that, for some time longer at all events, his deg-
radation and downfall were postponed.
" But it will come soon enough," thought Ralph ; " all_
love— bah ! that I should use the cant of boys and girls^s
fie e 1 1 ji^glTpugTi ; "though that which has its sole root in the
admiration of a whiskered face like that of yonder baboon,
perhaps lasts the longest, as it originates in the greater blind-
ness and is fed by vanity. Meantime the fools bring grist to
my mill, so let them live out their day, and the longer it is,
the better."
These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby,
as sundry small caresses and endearments, supposed to be
unseen, were exchanged between the objects of his thoughts.
" If you have nothing more to say, my dear, to Mr.
Nickleby," said Madame Mantalini, " we will take our leaves.
I am sure we have detained him much too long already."
Mr. Mantalini answered, in the first instance, by tapping
Madame Mantalini several times on the nose, and then, by
remarking in words that he had nothing more to say.
" Demmit ! I have, though," he added almost immediately,
drawing Ralph into a corner. " Here's an affair about 3'our
^3o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
friend Sir Mulberry. Such a demd extraordinary out-of-the-
way kind of thing as never was ! "
" What do you mean ? " asked Ralph.
" Don't you know, demmit ? " asked Mr. Mantalini.
" I see by the paper that he was thrown from his cabriolet
last night, and severely injujed, and that his life is in some
danger," answered Ralph with great composure ; " but I see
nothing extraordinary in that. Accidents are not miraculous
events, when men live hard, and drive after dinner."
" Whew I " cried Mr. Mantalini in a long shrill whistle.
" Then don't you know how it was ? "
" Not unless it was as I have just supposed," replied
Ralph, shrugging his shoulders carelessly, as if to give his
questioner to "understand that he had no curiosity upon the
subject.
'"• Demmit, you amaze me! " cried Mantalini.
Ralph shrugged his shoulders again, as if it were no great
feat to amaze Mr. Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at the
face of Newman Noggs, which had se\eral times appeared
behind a couple of panes of glass in the room door ; it being
a part of Newman's duty, when unimportant people called, to
make various feints of supposing that the bell had rung for
him to show them out ; by way of a gentle hint to such vis-
itors that it was time to go.
" Don't you know," said Mr. Mantalini, taking Ralph by
the button, '' that it wasn't an accident at all, but a demd,
furious, manslaughtering attack made upon him by your
nephew ? "
"What! " snarled Ralph, clenching his fists and turning
a li\id white.
" Demmit, Nickleby, you're as great a tiger as he is," said
Mantalini, alarmed at these demonstrations.
, " Go on," cried Ralph. " Tell me what you mean. What
is this stor\' ? Who told you ? Speak," growled Ralph. " Do
you hear me ? "
" 'Gad, Nickleby," said Mr. Mantalini, retreating towards
his wife, " what a demneble fierce old evil genius you are I
You're enough to frighten my life and soul out of her little
delicious wits— Hying all at once into such a blazing, ra\aging,
raging passion as never was, demmit ! "
"Pshaw," rejoined Ralph, forcing a smile. "It is but
manner."
" It is a demd uncomfortable, private-madhouse-sort of
manner," said Mr. Mantalini, picking up his cane.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 43 1
Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from
whom Mr. Mantalini had derived his information.
"From Pyke. And a demd, fine, pleasant, gentlemanly
dog it is," replied Mantalini. " Demnition pleasant, and a
tip-top sawyer."
" And what said he ? " asked Ralph, knitting his brows,
" That it happened this way — that your nephew met him
at a coffee-house, fell upon him with the most demneble fe-
rocity, followed him to his cab, swore he would ride home with
him, if he rode upon the horse's back or hooked himself on to
the horse's tail, smashed his countenance, which is a demd
fine countenance in its natural state, frightened the horse,
pitched out Sir Mulberry and himself, and — "
" And was killed ? " interposed Ralph with gleaming eyes,
" Was he ? Is he dead .? "
Mantalini shook his head.
" Ugh," said Ralph, turning away. " Then he has done
nothing. Stay ! " he added, looking round again. " He broke
a leg or an arm, or put his shoulder out, or fractured his col-
lar-bone, or ground a rib or two ? His neck was saved for
the halter, but he got- some painful and slow-healing injury
for his trouble } Did he ? You must have heard that, at
least."
"No," rejoined Mantalini, shaking his head again. " Un-
less he was clashed into such little pieces that they blew away,
he wasn't hurt, for he went off as quiet and comfortable as
— as — as demnition," said Mr. Mantalini, rather at a loss for
a simile.
" And what," said Ralph, hesitating a little, " what was
the cause of quarrel .'' "
"You are the demdest,knowinghand," replied Mr. Manta-
lini, in an admiring tone, "the cunningest, rummest, superlativ-
est old fox — oh dem ! — to pretend now not to know that it was
the little bright-eyed niece — the softest, sweetest, prettiest "
" Alfred ! " interposed Madame Mantalini.
" She is always right," rejoined Mr. Mantalini soothingly,
" and when she says it is time to go, it is time, and so she
shall ; and when she walks along the streets with her own
tulip, the women shall say with envy, she has got a demd fine
husband ; and the men shall say with rapture, he has got a
demd fine wife ; and they shall both be right and neither wrong,
upon my life and soul — oh demmit ! "
With which remarks, and many more, no less intellectual
432
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
and to the purpose, Mr. Mantalini kissed the fin_a;ers of his
gloves to Ralph Nickleby, and drawing his lady's arm through
his, led her mincingly away.
"So, so," muttered Ralph dropping into his chair; "this
devil is loose again, and thwarting me, as he was born to do,
at every turn. He told me once there should be a day of
reckoning between us, sooner or later. I'll make him a true
prophet, for it shall surely come."
"Are you at home.''" asked Newman, suddenly popping
in his head.
" No," replied Ralph, with equal abruptness.
Newman withdrew his head, but thrust it in again.
" You're quite sure you're not at home, are you ? " said
Newman.
" What does the idiot mean .' " cried Ralph, testily.
" He has been waiting nearly ever since they first came in,
and may have heard your voice ; that's all," said Newman,
rubbing his hands.
" Who has .'' " demanded Ralph, wrought by the intelligence
he had just heard, and his clerk's provoking coolness, to an
intense pitch of irritation.
The necessity of a reply was superseded by the unlooked-
for entrance of a third party — the individual in question — who,
bringing his one eye (for he had but one) to bear on Ralph
Nickleby, made a great many shambling bows, and sat him-
self down in an arm chair, with his hands on his knees, and
,his short black trousers drawn up so high in the legs by the
exertion of seating himself, that they scarcely reached below
the tops of his Wellington boots.
"Why, this is a surprise !" said Ralph, bending his gaze
upon the visitor, and half smiling as he scrutinized him atten-
tively ; " I should know your face, Mr. Squeers."
" Ah ! " replied, that worthy, " and you have know'd it
better, sir, if it hadn't been for all that I've been a going
through. Just lift that little boy off the tall stool in the back
ofilice, and tell hini to come in here, will you, my man ? " said
Squeers, addressing himself to Newman. " Oh, he's lifted his-
self off ! My son, sir, little Wackford. What do you think of
him, sir, for a specimen of the Dotheboys Hall feeding?
Ain't he fit to bust out of his clothes, and start the seams, and
make the very buttons fly off with his fatness ? Here's flesh ! "
cried Squeers, turning the boy about, and indenting the
plumpest parts of his figure with divers pokes and punches, to
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 432
the great discomposure of his son and heir. " Here's firm-
ness, here's solidness ! Why you can hardly get up enough
of him between your finger and thumb to pinch him any-
wheres."
In however good condition Master Squeers might have
been, he certainly did not present this remarkable "compact-
ness of person, for on his father's closing his finger and
thumb in illustration of his remark, he uttered a sharp cry,
and rubbed the place in the most natural manner possible.
"Well," remarked Squeers, a little disconcerted, "I had
him there ; but that's because we breakfasted early this morn-
ing, and he hasn't had his lunch yet. Why you couldn't shut
a bit of him in a door, when he's had his dinner. Look at
them tears, sir," said Squeers, with a triumphant air, as Master
Wackford wiped his eyes with the cufif of his jacket, " there's
oiliness ! "
" He looks well, indeed," returned Ralph, who, for some
purposes of his own, seemed desirous to conciliate the school-
master. " But how is Mrs. Squeers, and how are you ? "
" Mrs. Squeers, sir," replied the proprietor of Dothe-
boys,_ " is as she always is — a motlier to them lads, and a
blessing, and a comfort, and a joy to all them as knows her.
One of our boys — gorging his-self with \ittles, and then turning
ill ; that's their way — got a abscess on him last week. To
see how she operated upon him with a penknife ! Oh Lor ! "
said Squeers, heaving a sigh, and nodding his head a great
many times, " what a member of society that woman is ! "
Mr. Squeers indulged in a retrospective look, for some
quarter of a minute, as if this allusion to his lady's excellences
had naturally led his mind to the peaceful village of Dothe-
boys near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire ; and he then looked at
Ralph, as if waiting for him to say something.
" Have you quite recovered that scoundrel's attack ? "
asked Ralph.
" I've only just done it, if I've done it now," replied
Squeers. " I was one blessed bruise, sir," said Squeers, touch-
ing first the roots of his hair, and then the toes of his boots,
'■'ixova here \o there. Vinegar and brown paper, vinegar and
brown paper, from morning to night. I suppose tliere was
a matter of half a ream of brown paper stuck upon me, from
first to last. As I laid all of a heap in our kitchen, plastered all
over, you might have thought I was a large brown paper par-
cel, chock full of nothing but groans. Did I groan loud,
28
434 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Wackford, or did I groan soft ? " asked Mr. Squeers, appeal-
ing to his son.
" Loud," replied Wackford.
" Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condi-
tion, Wackford, or was they glad ? " asked Mr. Squeers, in a
sentimental manner.
"Gl— "
" Eh ? " cried Squeers, turning sharp round.
" Sorry," rejoined the son.
" Oh ! " said Squeers, catching him a smart box on the
ear. " Then take your hands out of your pockets, and don't
stammer when you're asked a question. Hold your noise,
sir, in a gentleman's office, or I'll run away from my family
and never come back any more ; and then what would be-
come of all them precious and forlorn lads as would be let
loose on the world, without their best friend at their elbers ! "
" Were you obliged to have medical attendance ? " in-
quired Ralph.
"Ay, was I," rejoined Squeers, "and a precious bill the
medical attendant brought in too ; but I paid it though."
Ralph elevated his eyebrows in a manner which might be
well expressive of either sympathy or astonishment. Just as
the beholder was pleased to take it.
"Yes, I paid it, every farthing," replied Squeers, who
seemed to know the man he had to deal with too well to
suppose that any blinking of the question would induce him
to subscribe towards the expenses ; " 1 wasn't out of pocket
by it after all, either."
" No > " said Ralph.
" Not a halfpenny," replied Squeers. " The fact is, we
have only one extra with our boys, and that is for doctors
when required — and not then, unless we're sure of our cus-
tomers. Do you see .' "
" I understand," said Ralph.
" Very good," rejoined Squeers. " Then, after my bill
was run up, we picked out five little boys (sons of small
tradesmen, as was sure pay) that had never had the scarlet
fever, and we sent one to a cottage where they'd got it. and
he took it, and then we put the four others to sleep with him,
and they took it, and then the doctor came and attended
'em once all round, and we divided my total among 'em and
added it on their little bills, and the parents paid it. Ha !
ha ! ha ' "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
435
"And a good plan too," said Ralph, eyeing the school-
master stealthily.
" 1 believe you," rejoined Squeers. " We always do it.
Why, when Mrs. Squeers was brought to bed with little
Wackford here, we ran the hooping-cough through half a
dozen boys, and charged her expenses among 'em, monthly
nurse included. Ha ! ha 1 ha ! "
Ralph never laughed, but on this occasion he produced
the nearest approach to it that he could, and waiting until
Mr. Squeers had enjoyed the professional joke to his heart's
content, inquired what had brought him to town.
" Some bothering law business," replied Squeers, scratch-
ing his head, " connected with an action, for what they call
neglect of a boy. I don't know what they would have. He
had as good grazing, that boy had, as there is about us."
Ralph looked as if he did not quite understand the obser-
vation.
"Grazing," said Squeers, raising his voice, under the im-
pression that as Ralph failed to comprehend him, he must be
deaf. '' When a boy gets weak and ill and don't relish his
meals, we give him a change of diet — turn him out, for an
hour or so every day, into a neighbor's turnip field, or some-
times, if it's a delicate case, a turnip field a piece- of carrots
alternately, and let him eat as many as he likes. There ain't
better land in the county than this perwerse lad grazed on,
and yet he goes and catches cold and indigestion and what
not, and then his friends brings a lawsuit against me/ Now,
you'd hardly suppose," added Squeers, moving in his chair
with the impatience of an ill-used man, " that people's ingrati-
tude would carry them quite as far as that ; would you ? "
" A hard case, indeed," observed Ralph.
" You don't say more than the truth when you say that,"
replied Squeers. " I don't suppose there's a man going, as
possesses the fondness for youth that I do. There's youth
to the amount of eight hundred pound a-year, at Dotheboys
Hall at this present time. I'd take si.xteen hundred pound
worth, if I could get 'em, and be as fond of ever}- individual
twenty pound among 'em as nothing should equal it ? "
" Are you stopping at your old quarters ? " asked Ralph.
"Yes, we are to the Saracen," replied Squeers, "and as it
don't want very long to the end of the half-year, we shall
continney to sto]) there, till I've collected the money, and
some new boys too, I hope. I've brought little Wackford up,
43^
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
on purpose to show to parents and guardians. I shall put
him in the advertisement, this time. Look at that boy — him-
self a pupil. Why he's a miracle of high feeding, that boy
is ! "
" I should like to have a word with you," said Ralph, who
had both spoken and listened mechanically for some time,
and seemed to have been thinking.
"As many words as you like, sir," rejoined Squeers.
" Wackford, you go and play in the back office, and don't
move about too much, or you'll get thin, and that won't do.
you haven't got such a thing as twopence, Mr. Nickleby, have
you ? " said Squeers, rattling a bunch of keys in his coat
pocket, and muttering something about its being all silver,
" I — think I have," said Ralph, very slowly, and produc-
ing, after much rummaging in an old drawer, a penny, a half-
penny, and two farthings.
" Thankee," said Squeers, bestowing it upon his son.
" Here ! You go and buy a tart — Mr. Nickleby's man will
show you where — -and mind you buy a rich one. Pastry," added
Squeers, closing the door on Master Wackford, " makes his
flesh shine a good deal, and parents thinks that a healthy
sign."
With this explanation, and a peculiarly knowing look to
eke it out, Mr. Squeers moved his chair so as to bring him-
self opposite to Ralph Nickleby at no great distance off ; and
having planted it to his entire satisfaction, sat down.
" Attend to me," said Ralph, bending forward a little.
Squeers nodded.
" I am not to suppose," said Ralph, " that you are dolt
enough to forgive or forget, ver}' readily, the violence that
was committed upon you, or the exposure whicl? accompanied
it ? "
"Devil a bit," replied Squeeis, tartly.
"Or to lose an opportunity of repaying it with interest,
if you could get one ? " said Ralph.
" Show me one, and try," rejoined Squeers.
" Some such object it was, that induced you to call on
me ? " said Ralph, raising his eyes to the schoolmaster's face.
"N — n — no, I don't know that," replied Squeers. "I
thought that if it was in your power to make me, besides the
trifle of money you sent, any compensation "
"Ah ! " cried Ralph, interrupting him. " You needn't go
on."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 43 7
After a long pause, during which Ralph appeared ab-
sorbed in contemplation, he again broke silence, by asking :
" Who is this boy that he took with him ? "
Squeers stated his name.
" Was he young or old, healthy or sickly, tractable or
rebellious ? Speak out, man," retorted Ralph.
" Why, he wasn't young," answered Squeers ; " that is,
not young for a boy, you know."
" That is, he was not a boy at all, I suppose .'' " interrupted
Ralph.
" Well," returned Squeers briskly, as if he felt relieved by
the suggestion, " he might have been nigh twenty. He
wouldn't seem so old, though, to them as didn't know him, for
he was a little wanting here," touching his forehead ; " nobody
at home you know, if you knocked ever so often."
" And you did knock pretty often,. I dare say ? " muttered
Ralph.
" Pretty well," returned Squeers with a grin.
" W^ien you wrote to acknowledge the receipt of this trifle
of money as you call it," said Ralph, " you told me his friends
had deserted him long ago, and that you had not the faintest
clue or trace to tell you who he was. Is that the truth >. "
" It is, worse luck ! " replied Squeers, becoming more and
more easy and familiar in his manner, as Ralph pursued his
inquiries with the less reserve. " It's fourteen 3-ears ago, by
the entr}^ in my book, since a strange man brought him to my
place, one autumn night, and left him there : paying five
pound five, for his first quarter in advance. He might have
been five or six year old at that time, not more."
" What more do you know about him t " demanded Ralph.
" Devilish little, I'm sorry to say," replied Squeers. " The
money was paid, for some six or eight year, and then it
stopped. He had given an address in London, had this
chap ; but when it came to the point, of course nobody know-
ed any thing about him. So I kept the lad out of — out of — "
" Charity .-' " suggested Ralph dryly.
" Charity, to be sure," returned Squeers, rubbing his knees,
" and when he begins to be useful in a certain sort of way,
this young scoundrel of a Nickleby comes and carries him
off. But the most vexatious and aggeravating part of the
whole affair is," said Squeers, dropping his voice, and drawing
his chair still closer to Ralph, " that some questions have
been asked about him at last ; not of me, but, in a round-
438
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
about kind of way, of people in our village. So, that just when
1 might have had all arrears paid up, perhaps, and perhaps —
who "knows ? such things have happened in our business be-
fore— a present besides for putting him out to a farmer, or
sending him to sea, so that he might never turn up to disgrace
his parents, supposing him to be a natural boy, as many of
our boys are — damme, if that villain of a Nickleby don't col-
lar him in open day, and commit as good as highway robbery
upon my pocket."
" We will both cry quits with him before long," said Ralph,
laying his hand on the arm of the Yorkshire schoolmaster.
" Quits ! " echoed Squeers. " Ah ! and I should like to
leave a small balance in his favor, to be settled when he can.
I only wish Mrs. Squeers could catch hold of him. Bless
her heart ! She'd murder him, Mr. Nickleby. She would, as
soon as eat her dinner."-
" We will talk of this again," said Ralph. " I must have
time to think of it. To wound him through his own affections
and fancies . If I could strike him through this boy "
" Strike him how you like, sir," interrupted Squeers, "only
hit him hard enough, that's all. And with that, I'll say good-
morning. Here ! — just chuck that little boy's hat off that
corner-peg, and lift him off the stool, will you ? "
Bawling these requests to Newman Noggs, Mr. Squeers
betook himself to the little back office, and fitted on his child's
hat with parental anxiety, while Newman, with his pen behind
his ear, sat, stiff and immovable, on his stool, regarding the
father and son by turns with a broad stare.
" He's a fine boy, an't he ? " said Squeers, throwing his
head a little on one' side, and falling back to the desk, the
better to estimate the proportions of little Wackford.
" Very," said Newman.
"Pretty well swelled out, an't he?" pursued Squeers.
" He has the fatness of twenty boys, he has."
" Ah ! " replied Newman, suddenly thrusting his face into
that of Squeers, " he has ;— the fatness of twenty ! — more !
He's got it all. God help the others. Ha ! ha ! Oh Lord ! "
Having uttered these fragmentar)' observations, Newman
dropped upon his desk and began to write with most marvel-
lous rapidity.
" Why, what does the man mean ? "cried Squeers coloring.
"Is he drunk.?"
Newman made no reply.
XICIIOLAS NICK'LEB Y. 439
" Is he mad ? " said Squeers.
But, still Newman betrayed no consciousness of any pres-
ence save his own ; so, Mr. Squeers comforted himself by
saying that he was both drunk rt«^ mad ; and, with this part-
ing observation, he led his hopeful son away.
In exact proportion as Ralph Nickleby became conscious
of a struggling and lingering regard for Kate, had his detesta-
tion of Nicholas augmented. It might be, that to atone for
the weakness of inclining to any one person, he held it neces-
sar)- to hate some other, more intensely than before ; but such
had been the course of his feelings. And now, to be defied
and spurned, to be held up to her in the worst and most re-
pulsive colors, to know that she was taught to hate and de-
spise him, to feel that there was infection in his touch, and
taint in his companionship — to know all this, and to know
that the mover of it all was that same boyish poor relation
who had twitted him in their verv' first interview, and openly
bearded and braved him since, wrought his quiet and st^ealtlw
malisfnitv to such a pitch, that there was scarcely anytliing He
would not have hazarded \c> gratify it, if he could have seen
his way to some immediate ixtaliaiii 11.
But, fortunately for Nicholas, Ralph Nickleby did not ;
and although he cast about, all that day, and kept a corner of
his brain working on the one anxious subject through all the
round of schemes and business that came with it, night found
him at last, still harping on the same theme, and still pursu-
ing the same unprofitable refiections.
" When my brother was such as he," said Ralph, " the
first comparisons w^ere drawn betw'een us. Always in my dis-
favor. He was open, liberal, gallant, gay ; / a crafty hunks of
cold and stagnant blood, with no passion but love of saving,
and no spirit beyond a thirst for gain. I recollected it well
when I first saw this whipster ; but I remember it better now."
He had been occupied in tearing Nicholas's letter into
atoms ; and as he spoke, he scattered it in a tiny shower
about him.
"Recollections like these," pursued Ralph, with a bitter
smile, " flock upon me, when I resign myself to them, in
crowds, and from countless quarters. As a portion of the
world affect to despise the power of money, I must \.r\ and
show them what it is."
And being, by this time, in a pleasant frame of mind for
slumber, Ralph Nickleby went to bed.
440 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
CHAPTER XXXV.
SMIKE BECOMES KNOWN TO MRS. NICKLEBY AND KATE.
NICHOLAS ALSO MEETS WITH NEW ACQUAINTANCES.
BRIGHTER DAYS SEEM TO DAWN UPON THE FAMILY.
Having established his mother and sister in the apart-
ments of the kind-hearted miniature painter, and ascertained
that Sir Mulberry Hawk was in no danger of losing his life,
Nicholas turned his thoughts to poor Smike, who, after break-
fasting with Newman Noggs, had remained, in a disconsolate
state, at that worthy creature's lodgings, waiting, with much
anxiety, for further intelligence of his protector.
" As he will be one of our own little household, wherever
we live, or whatever fortune is in reserve for us," thought
Nicholas, " I must present the jDoor fellow in due form. They
will be kind to him for his own sake, and if not (on that ac-
count solely) to the full extent I could wish, they will stretch
a point, I am sure, for mine."
Nicholas said " they," but his misgivings were confined
to one person. He was sure of Kate, but he knew his mother's
peculiarities, and was not quite so certain that Smike would
find favor in the eyes of Mrs. Nickleby.
" However," thought Nicholas as he departed on his
benevolent errand \ " she cannot fail to become attached to
him, when she knows what a devoted creature he is, and as
she must quickly make the discovery, his probation will be a
short one."
" I was afraid," said Smike, overjoyed to see his friend
again, that you had fallen into some fresh trouble ; the time
seemed so long, at last, that I almost feared you were lost."
" Lost ! " replied Nicholas gayly. "You will not be rid of
me so easily, I promise you. I shall rise to the surface many
thousand times yet, and the harder the thrust that push.es me
down, the more quickly I shall rebound, Smike. But come ;
my errand here is to take you home."
" Home! " faltered Smike, drawing timidly back.
"Ay," rejoined Nicholas, taking his arm. "Why "not?"
" I had such hopes once," said Smike; " day and night,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 44 1
niglit, for many years. I lonj^^ed for home till I was
weary, ami jniicJ auav ujth j.Mief j l)Ut now "
"And what now ? '^ asked Nicholas, looking kindly in his
face. " What now, old friend ? "
" I could not part from you to go to any home on earth,"
replied Smike, pressing his hand ; " except one, except one.
I shall never be an old man ; and if your hand placed me in
the grave, and I could think, before I died, that you would
come and look upon it sometimes \vith one of your kind smiles
andlnTRe summer weather, when t'\ crMhing wis ali\e — not
dead like me — 1 could go to that home, almost without a
tear" "^
"^ " Why do you talk thus, poor boy, if your life is a happy
one with me ? " said Nicholas.
" Because / should change ; not those about me. And
if they forget me, / should never know it," replied Smike. " In
the churchyard we are all alike, but here there are none like
me. I am a poor creature, but I know that."
" You are a foolish, silly creature," said Nicholas cheerfully.
" If that is what you mean, I grant you that. Why, here's a
dismal face for ladies' company ! — my pretty sister too, whom
you have so often asked me about. Is this your Yorkshire
gallantry "i For shame ! for shame ! "
Smike brightened up and smiled.
"When I talk of homes," pursued Nicholas, "I talk of
mine — which is yours of course. If it w-ere defined by any
particular four walls and a roof, God knows I should be
sufficiently puzzled to say whereabouts it lay ; but that is not
what I mean. When I speak of home, I speak of the place
where, in default of a better, those I love are gathered to-
gether ; and if that place were a gipsy's tent, or a barn, I
should call it by the same good name notwithstanding. And
now, for what is my present home : which, however alarming
your expectations may be, will neither terrify you by its extent
nor its magnificence ! "
So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm, and
saying a great deal more to the same purpose, and pointing
out various things to amuse and interest him as they went
along, led the way to Miss La Creevy's house.
"And this, Kate," said Nicholas, entering the room where
his sister sat alone, " is the faithful friend and affectionate
fellow-tra\eller whom I prepared you to receive."
Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened
442 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
enough, at first, but Kate advanced towards him so kindly,
and said, in such a sweet voice, how anxious she had been to
see him after all her brother had told her, and how much she
had to thank him for having comforted Nicholas so greatly in
their very trjdng reverses, that he began to be very doubtful
whether he should shed tears or not, and became still more
flurried. However, he managed to say, in a broken voice,
that Nicholas was his only friend, and that he would lay down
his life to help him • and Kate, although she was so kind and
considerate, seemed to be so wholly unconscious of his dis-
tress and embarrassment, that he recovered almost immediate-
ly and felt quite at home.
Then, Miss La Creevy came in ; and to her Smike had to
be presented also. And Miss La Creevy was veiy kind too,
and wonderfully talkative : not to Smike, for that would have
made him uneasy at first, but to Nicholas and his sister.
Then, after a time, she would speak to Smike himself now and
then, asking him whether he was a judge of likenesses, and
whether he thought that picture in the corner was like herself,
and whether he didn't think it would have looked betterif she
had made herself ten years younger, and whether he didn't
think, as a matter of general observation, that young ladies
looked better not only in pictures but out of them too, than
old ones ; with many more small jokes and facetious remarks,
which were delivered with such good humor and merriment,
that Smike thought, within himself, she was the nicest lady
he had ever seen ; even nicer than Mrs. Grudden, of Mr. Vin-
cent Crummles's theatre : and she was a nice lady too, and
talked, perhaps more, but certainly louder, than Miss La
Creevy.
At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning
came in ; and Nicholas kissing the lady in mourning affection-
ately, and calling her his mother, led her towards the chair
from which Smike had risen when she entered the room.
"You are always kind-hearted, and anxious to help the
oppressed, my dear mother," said Nicholas, " so you will be
favorably disposed towards him, I know."
" I am sure, my dear Nicholas," replied Mrs. Nickleby,
looking very hard at her new friend, and bending to him with
something more of majesty than the occasion seemed to re-
quire : " I am sure any friend of yours has, as indeed he
naturally ought to have, and must have, of course, you knew,
a great claim upon me, and of course, it is a very great
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
443
pleasure to me to be introduced to anybody you take an in-
terest in. There can be no doubt about that ; none at all ;
not the least in the world," said Mrs. Nickleby. '' At the
same time I must say, Nicholas, my dear, as I used to say to
your poor dear papa, when he would bring gentlemen home to
dinner and there was nothing in the house, that if he had
come the day before yesterday — no, I don't mean the day be-
fore yesterday ; I should have said, perhaps, the year before
last — we should have been better able to entertain him."
With which remarks, Mrs. Nickleby turned to her daughter,
and inquired, in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman
was going to stop all night .'
" Because, if he is, Kate my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby,
" I don't see that it's possible for him to sleep anywhere, and
that's the truth."
Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show
of annoyance or irritation, breathed a few words into her
mothers ear.
" La, Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby, shrinking back,
" how you do tickle one ! Of course, I understand that, my
love, without your telling me ; and I said the same to Nich-
olas, and I a7n very much pleased. You didn't tell me, Nich-
olas, my dear," added Mrs. Nickleby, turnmg round with an
air of less reserve than she had before assumed, " what your
friend's name is."
"His name, mother," replied Nicholas, "is Smike."
The effect of this communication was by no means antici-
pated ; but the name was no sooner pronounced, than Mrs.
Nickleby dropped upon a chair, and burst into a fit of cry-
ing.
" What is the matter ? " exclaimed Nicholas, running to
support her.
" It's so like Pyke," cried Mrs. Nickleby; " so exactly like
Pyke. Oh ! don't speak to me — I shall be better presently."
After exhibiting every symptom of slow suffocation, in all
its stages, and drinking about a teaspoonful of water from a
full tumbler, and spilling the remainder, Mrs. Nickleby was
better, and remarked, with a feeble smile, that she was very
foolish, she knew.
" It's a weakness in our family," said Mrs. Nickleby, "so,
of course, I can't be blamed for it. Your grandmama, Kate,
was exactly the same — precisely. The least excitement, the
slightest surprise — she fainted away directly. I have heard
444 NICII0L4A^jyjCA;LEB Y.
her say, often and often, that when she was a young lady, and
before she was married, she was turning a corner into Oxford-
street one day, when she ran against her own hair-dresser,
who, it seems, was escaping from a bear ; — the mere sudden-
ness of the encounter made her faint away, directly. Wait,
though," added Mrs. Nicl^leby, pausing to consider, " Let me
be sure I'm right. Was it her hair-dresser who had escaped
from a bear, or was it a bear who had escaped from her hair-
dresser's ? I declare I can't remember just now, but the hair-
dresser was a very handsome man, I know, and quite a gen-
tleman in his manners ; so that it has nothing to do with the
point of the story."
Mrs. Nickleby having fallen imperceptibly into one of
her retrospective moods, improved in temper from that mo-
ment, and glided, by an easy change of the conversation oc-
casionally, into various other anecdotes, no less remarkable
for their strict application to the subject in hand.
" Mr. Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear ? " said
Mrs. Nickleby, after dinner, and when she had been silent for
some time.
"Certainly, mother," replied Nicholas. "I see you have
not forgotten his melancholy history."
" O dear no," cried Mrs. Nickleby. " Ah ! Melancholy,
indeed ! You don't happen, Mr. Smike, ever to have dined
with the Grimbles of Grimble Hall, somewhere in the North
Riding, do you ? " said the good lad3% addressing herself to
him. " A very proud man. Sir Thomas Grimble, with six
grown-up and most lovely daughters, and the finest park in the
county."
" My dear mother ! " reasoned Nicholas, " Do you sup-
pose that the unfortunate outcast of a Yorkshire school was
likely to receive many cards of invitation from the nobility
and gentry in the neighborhood ? "
" Really, my dear, I don't know why it should be so very
e.xtraordinary," said Mrs. Nickleby. " I know that when /
was at school, I always went at least twice every half-year to
the Hawkinses at Taunton Vale, and they are much richer
than the Grimbles, and connected with them in marriage ; so
you see it's not so very unlikely, after all."
Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner,
Mrs. Nickleby was suddenly seized with a forgetfulness of
Smike's real name, and an irresistible tendency to call him
Mr. Slammonsj which circumstance she attributed to the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
445
remarkable similarity of the two names in point of sound,
both beginning with an S. and moreover being spelt with an
M. But whatever doubt there might be on this point, there
was none as to his being a most excellent listener ; which cir-
cumstance had considerable influence in placing them on the
very best terms, and in inducing Mrs. Nickleby to express the
highest opinion of his general deportment and disposition.
Thus, the little circle remained, on the most amicable and
agreeable footing, until the Monday morning, when Nicholas
withdrew himself from it for a short time, seriously to~reflect
upon the state of his affairs, and to determine, if he could,
upon some course of life which would enable him to support
those who were so entirely dependent upon his exertions.
"Mrr C'runuules occui-red fo TiTiri more than once ; but
although Kate was acquainted with the whole history of his
connection with that gentleman, his mother was not ; and he
foresaw a thousand fretful objections, on her part, to his seek-
ing a livelihood upon the stage. There were graver reasons,
too. against his returning to that mode of life. Independently
of those arising out of its spare and precarious earnings, and
his own internal conviction that he could never hope to aspire
to any great distinction, even as a provincial actor, how could
he carry his sister from town to town, and place to place, and
debar her from any other associates than those with whom he
would be compelled, almost without distinction, to mingle ?
" It won't do," said Nicholas, shaking his head ; " I must try
something else."
It was much easier to make this resolution than to carry
it into effect. With no greater experience of the world than
he had acquired for himself in his short trials ; with a suffi-
cient share of headlong rashness and precipitation (qualities
not altogether unnatural at his time of life) ; with a very slen-
der stock of monev, and a still more scantv stock of friendL ;
what could he do'? "Egad!" said Nicholas, "I'll tr\' that
Register Office again."
He smiled at himself as he walked away, with a quick
step ; for, an instant before, he had been internally blaming
his own precipitation. He did not laugh himself out of
the intention, however, for on he went : picturing to himself,
as he approached the place, all kinds of splendid possibilities,
and impossibilities too, for that matter, and thinking himself,
perhaps with good reason, very fortunate to be endowed with
so buoyant and sanguine a temperament.
^^5 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The office looked just the same as when he had left it last,
and, indeed, with one or two exceptions, there seemed to be
the very same placards in the window that he had seen before.
There were the same unimpeachable masters and mistresses,
in want of virtuous servants, and the same virtuous servants
in want of unimpeachable masters and mistresses, and the
same magnificent estates for the investment of capital, and
the same enormous quantities of capital to be invested in
estates, and, in short, the same opportunities of all sorts for
people who wanted to make their fortunes. And a most
extraordinary proof it was of the national prosperity, that
people had not been found to avail themselves of such advan-
tages long ago.
As Nicholas stopped to look in at the window, an old
gentleman happened to stop too ; Nicholas, carrying his eye
along the window-panes from left to right in search of some
capital-text placard, which should be applicable to his own
case, caught sight of this old gentleman's figure, and instinc-
tively withdrew his eyes from the window, to observe the same
more closely.
He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat,
made pretty large, to fit easily, and with no particular waist ;
his bulky legs clothed in drab breeches and high gaiters, and
his head protected by alow-crowned broad-brimmed white hat,
such as a wealthy grazier might wear. He wore his coat but-
toned ; and his dimpled double-chin rested in the folds of a
white neckerchief — not one of your stiff-starched apoplectic
cravats, but a good, easy, old-fashioned white neck-cloth that
a man might go to bed in and be none the worse for. But
what principally attracted the attention of Nicholas, was the
old gentleman's eye, — never was such a clear, twinkling,
honest, merry, happy eye, as that. And there he stood, look-
ing a little upward, with one hand thrust into the breast of his
coat, and the other playing with his old-fashioned gold watch-
chain : his head thrown a little on one side, and his hat a little
more on one side than his head, (but that was evidently ac-
cident ; not his ordinary way of wearing it,) with such ?. pleas-
ant smile playing about his mouth, and such a comical expres-
sion of mingled slyness, simplicity, kindjieartedness, and good-
humor, lighting up his jolly old facefthat Nicholas would have
been content to have stood there, Vmd looked at him until
evening, and to have forgotten, meanwhile, that there was
such a thing as a soured mind or-A-Qrabbcd^countenance to
be met with in the whole wide world. J^ a^ ^ ^ ^^,^
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 447
But, even a very remote approach to this gratification was
not to be made, for although he seemed quite unconscious of
having been the subject of observation, he looked casually at
Nicholas ; and the latter, fearful of giving offence, resumed
his scrutiny of the window instantly.
Still, the old gentleman stood there, glancing from placard
to placard, and Nicholas could not forbear raising his eyes to his
face again. Grafted upon the quaintness and oddity of his ap-
pearance, was something so indescribably engaging, and he-
Speaking so much worth, and there vi^ere so many little lights
hovering about the corners of his mouth and eyes, that it was
not a mere amusement, but a positive pleasure and delight to
look at him.
This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man
caught Nicholas in the fact, more than once. At such times,
Nicholas colored and looked embarrassed : for the truth is,
that he had begun to wonder whether the stranger could, by
any possibility, be looking for a clerk or secretary ; and think-
ing this, he felt as if the old gentleman must know it.
Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple
of_ minutes in passing. As the stranger was moving away,
Nicholas caught his eye again, and, in the awkwardness of
the moment, stammered out an apology.
" No offence. Oh no offence ! " said the old man.
This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so
exactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and
there was such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas was
emboldened to speak again.
" A great many opportunities here, sir ! " he said, half-
smiling as he motioned towards the window.
" A great many people willing and anxious to be employed
have seriously thought so very often, I dare say," replied the
old man. " Poor fellows, poor fellows ! "
He moved away, as he said this ; but, seeing that Nicholas
was about to speak good-naturedly, slackened his pace, as if
he were unwilling to cut him short. After a little of that
hesitation which may be sometimes observed between two
people in the street who have exchanged a nod, and are both
uncertain whether they shall turn back and speak, or not,
Nicholas found himself at the old man's side.
" You were about to speak, young gentleman ; what w^ere
you going to say.'"
" Merely that I almost hoped — I mean to say, thought —
448 NICHOLAS NICJCLEB V.
you had some object in consulting those advertisements, said
Nicholas.
" Ay, ay ? what object now — what object ? " returned the
old man, looking slyly at Nicholas.. " Did you think I wanted
a situation now ? Eh ? Did you think I did ? "
Nicholas shook his head.
" Ha ! ha ! " laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands
and wrists as if he were washing them. " A very natural
thought, at all events, after seeing me gazing at those bills,
I thought the same of you, at first ; upon my word, I did."
" If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have
been far from the truth," rejoined Nicholas.
" Eh ? " cried the old man, surveying him from head to
foot. " What ! Dear me ! No, no. Well-behaved young
gentleman reduced to such a necessity! No no, no no."
Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good morning, turned
upon his heel.
" Stay," said the old man, beckoning him into a by street,
where they could converse with less interruption. " What
dye mean, eh ? "
" Merely that your kind face and manner — both unlike
any I have ever seen — tempted me into an avowal, which, to
any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should not
have dreamt of making," returned Nicholas.
" Wildnerness ! Yes it is, it is. Good ! It ts a wilder-
ness," said the old man with much animation. " It was a
wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot. I have never
forgotten it. Thank God ! " and he raised his hat from his
head, and looked very grave.
" What's the matter .? What is it. How did it all come
about ? " said the old man, laying his hand on the shoulder of
Nicholas, and walking him up the street. "You're — Eh?"
laying his finger on the sleeve of his black coat. " Who's it
for, e^h ? "
"My father," replied Nicholas.
" Ah ! " said the old gentleman quickly. " Bad thing for
a young man to lose his father. Widowed mother, perhaps ? "
Nicholas sighed.
" Brothers and sisters too ? Eh ? "
"One sister," rejoined Nicholas.
"Poor thing, poor thing! You're a scholar too, I dare
say ? " said the old man, looking wistfully into the face of the
young one.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 44^
"I have been tolerably well educated," said Nicholas.
"Fine thing," said the old gentleman : " education a great
thing : a very great thing ! I never had any. I admire it the
more in others. A very fine thing. Yes, yes. Tell me more
of your history. Let me hear it all. No impertinent curiosity
— no, no, no."
There was something so earnest and guileless in the way
in which all this was said, and such a complete disregard of
all conventional restraints and coldness, that Nicholas could
not resist it. Among men who have any sound and sterling
qualities, there is nothing so contagious as pure openness of
heart. Nicholas took the infection instantly, and ran over
the main points of his little history without reserve : merely
suppressing names, and touching as lightly as possible upon
his uncle's treatment of Kate. The old man listened with
great attention, and when he had concluded, drew his arm
eagerly through his own.
" Don't say another word. Not another word ! " said he.
" Come along with me. We mustn't lose a minute."
So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into
Oxford Street, and hailing an omnibus on its way to the city,
pushed Nicholas in before him, and followed, himself.
As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of rest-
less excitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, im-
mediately interposed with : " Don't say another word, my
dear sir, on any account — not another word ! " the young man
thought it better to attempt no further interruption.. Into the
city they journeyed accordingly, without interchanging any
conversation ; and the farther they went, the more Nicholas
wondered what the end of the adventure could possibly be.
The old gentleman got out, with great alacrity, when they
reached the Bank, and once more taking Nicholas by the arm,
hurried him along Threadneedle Street, and through some
lanes and passages on the right, until they, at length, emerged
in a quiet shady little square. Into the oldest and cleanest-
looking house of business in the square, he led the way. The
only inscription on the door-post was " Cheeryble, Brothers : "
but from a hasty glance at the direction of some packages
which were lying about, Nicholas supposed that the Brothers
Cheeryble were German-merchants.
Passing through a warehouse which presented every indi-
cation of a thriving business. Mr. Cheeryble (for such Nich-
olas supposed him to be, from the respect which had been
29
45 o NICHOLAS NICKLEBIT,
shown him by the warehousemen and porters whom they
passed) led him into a Uttle partitioned-off counting-house hke
a large glass-case, in which counting-house there sat — as free
from dust and blemish as if he had been fixed into the glass
case before the top was put on, and had never come out since
— a fat, elderly, large-faced, clerk, with silver spectacles and a
powdered head.
" Is my brother in his room, Tim ? " said Mr. Cheer)'ble,
with no less kindness of manner than he had showA to Nich-
olas.
"Yes he is, sir," replied the fat clerk, turning his specta-
cle-glasses towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nich-
olas, "but Mr. Trimmers is with him."
" Ay ! And what has he come about, Tim ? " said Mr.
Cheeryble.
" He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family
of a man who was killed in the East India Docks this morning,
sir," rejoined Tim. " Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar."
" He is a good creature," said Mr. Cheeryble, with great
earnestness. " He is a kind soul. I am very much obliged
to Trimmers. Trimmers is one of the best friends we have.
He makes a thousand cases known to us that we should never
discover of ourselves. I am z/<fry much obliged to Trimmers."
Saying which, Mr. Cheer}^ble rubbed his hands with infinite
delight, and Mr. Trimmers happening to pass the door that
instant, on his way out, shot out after him and caught him by
the hand.
" I owe you a thousand thanks. Trimmers, ten thousand
thanks. I take it very friendly of you, very friendly indeed,"
said Mr. Cheeryble, dragging him into a corner to get out of
hearing. " How many children are there, and what has my
brother Ned given. Trimmers ? "
"There are six children," replied the gentleman, "and
your brother has given us twenty pounds."
" My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you're a good
fellow too, Trimmers," said the old man, shaking him by both
hands with tremblinsf eagerness. " Put me down for another
twenty — or — stop a minute, stop a minute ! We mustn't look
ostentatious ; put me down ten pound, and Tim Linkinwater
ten pound. A cheque for twenty pound for Mr. Trimmers^
Tim. God bless you. Trimmers — and come and dine with us
some day this week ; you'll always find a knife and fork, and
we shall be delighted. Now, my dear sir, — cheque from Mr.
NICHOLAS NJCKLEB V. 4^ i
Linkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar, and six poor
children — oh dear, dear, dear ! "
Talking on in this strain, as fast as he could, to prevent
any friendly remonstrances from the collector of the subscrip-
tion on the large amount of his donation, Mr, Cheeryble led
Nicholas, equally astonished and affected by what he had seen
and heard in this short space, to the half-opened door of an-
other room.
" Brother Ned," said Mr. Cheeryble, tapping with his
knuckles, and stooping to listen : " are you busy, my dear
brother, or can you spare time for a word or two with me ? "
"Brother Charles, my dear fellow," replied a voice from
the inside ; so like in its tones to that which had just spoken,
that Nicholas started, and almost thought it was the same,
" Don't ask me such a question, but come in directly."
They went in, without further parley. What was the
amazement of Nicholas when his conductor advanced, and ex-
changed a warm greeting with another old gentleman, the very
type and model of himself — the same face, the same figure,
the same coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, the same breeches
and gaiters — nay, there was the very same white hat hanging
against the wall !
As they shook each other by the hand — the face of each
lighted up by beaming looks of affection, which would have
been most delightful to behold in infants, and which, in men so
old, was inexpressibly touching — Nicholas could observe that
the last old gentleman was something stouter than his brother ;
this, and a slight additional shade of clumsiness in his gait
and stature, formed the only perceptible difference between
them. Nobody could have doubted their being twin brothers.
"Brother Ned," said Nicholas's friend, closing the room-
door, " here is a young friend of mine, whom we must assist.
We must make proper inquiries into his statements, in justice
to him as well as to ourselves, and if they are confirmed — as
I feel assured they will be — we must assist him, we must assist
him, brother Ned."
" It is enough, my dear brother, that you say we should,"
returned the other. " When you say that, no further inquiries
are needed. He s/ia// be assisted. What are his necessities,
and what does he require .-' Where is Tim Linkinwater ? Let
us have him here."
Both the brothers, it may be here remarked, had a very
emphatic and earnest delivery ; both had lost nearly the same
452
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
teeth, which imparted the same peculiarity to their speech ; and
both spoke as if, besides possessing the utmost serenity of
mind that the kindhest and most unsuspecting nature could
bestow, they had, in collecting the plums from Fortune's
choicest pudding, retained a few for present use, and kept
them in their mouths.
" Where is Tim Linkinwater ? " said brother Ned.
" Stop, stop, stop ! " said brother Charles, taking the other
aside. " I've a plan, my dear brother, I've a plan. Tim is
getting old, and Tim has been a faithful servant, brother Ned,
and I don't think pensioning Tim's mother and sister, and
buying a little tomb for the family when his poor brother died,
was a sufficient recompense for his faithful services."
" No, no, no," replied the other. " Certainly not. Not
half enough, not half."
" If we could lighten Tim's duties," said the old gentle-
man, and prevail upon him to go into the country, now and
then, and sleep in the fresh air, two or three times a week,
(which he could, if he began business an hour later in the
morning,) old Tim Linkinwater would grow young again in
time ; and he's three good years our senior now. Old Tim
Linkinwater young again ! Eh, brother Ned, eh ? Why, I
recollect old Tim Linkinwater quite a little boy, don't you ?
Ha, ha, ha ! Poor Tim, poor Tim ! "
The fine old fellows laughed pleasantly together : each
with a tear of regard for old Tim Linkinwater, standing in his
eye.
" But hear this first — hear this first, brother Ned," said the
old man, hastily, placing two chairs, one on each side of
Nicholas. " I'll tell it you mj^self, brother Ned, because the
young gentleman is modest, and is a scholar, Ned, and I
shouldn't feel it right that he should tell us his story over and
over again as if he was a beggar, or as if we doubted him.
No, no, no."
" No, no, no," returned the other, nodding his head
gravely. " Very right, my dear brother, very right."
" He will tell me I'm wrong, if I make a mistake," said
Nicholas's friend, " But whether I do or not, you'll be very
much affected, brother Ned, remembering the time when we
were two friendless lads, and earned our first shilling in this
great city."
The twins pressed each other's hands in silence ; and in his
own homely manner, brother Charles related the particulars
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NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. .r^
he had heard from Nicholas. The conversation which ensued,
was a long one, and when it was over, a secret conference of
almost equal duration took place between brother Ned and
Tim Linkinwater in another room. It is no disparagement to
Nicholas to say, that before he had been closeted with tlie two
brbthers^Jen minuFes7"he coul'd only "wave 'IiisTiTnd'arevery
fresh expressTorTorkindness and s\'mpathy, and sob like a
littiTKife^ *'
At length brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back
together, when Tim instantly walked up to Nicholas and whis-
pered in his ear in a very brief sentence, (for Tim was ordinarily
a man of few words), that he had taken down the address
in the Strand, and would call upon him that evening, at eight.
Having done which, Tim wiped his spectacles and put them
on, preparatory to hearing what more the brothers Cheeryble
had got to say.
• "Tim," said brother Charles, "You understand that we
have an intention of taking this young gentleman into the
counting-house .'' "
Brother Ned remarked that Tim was aware of that inten-
tion, and quite approved of it ; Tim having nodded, and said
he did, drew himself up and looked particularly fat, and very
important. After which there was a profound silence.
" I'm not coming an hour later in the morning you know,"
said Tim, breaking out all at once, and looking very resolute.
" I'm not going to sleep in the fresh air ; no, nor I'm not
going into the country either. A pretty thing at this time of
day, certainly. Pho ! "
" Damn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater," said brother
Charles, looking at him without the faintest spark of anger,
and with a countenance radiant with attachment to the old
clerk ! " Damn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater, what do
you mean, sir ? "
" It's forty-four year," said Tim, making a calculation in
the air v/ith his pen, and drawing and imaginary line before
he cast it up, " forty-four year, next May, since I first kept
the books of Cheeryble, Brothers. I've opened the safe every
morning all that time (Sundays excepted) as the clock struck
nine, and gone over the house every night at half-past ten
(except on Foreign Post nights, and then twenty minutes be-
fore twelve) to see the doors fastened, and the fires out. I've
never slept out of the back attic one single night. There's
the same mignonette box in the middle of the window, and
^54 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
the same four flower-pots, two on each side, that J brought
with me when I first came. There an't — I've said it again
and again, and I'll maintain it — there ain't such a square as
this, in the world. I know there an't," said Tim, with sudden
energy, and looking sternly about him. " Not one. For
business or pleasure, in summer time or winter — I don't care
which — there's nothing like it. There's not such a spring in
England as the pump under the archway. There's not such
a view in England as the view out of my window. I've seen
it every morning before I shaved, and I ought to know
something about it. I've slept in that room," added Tim,
sinking his voice a little, "for four-and-forty year ; and if it
wasn't inconvenient, and didn't interfere with business, 1
should request leave to die there."
" Damn you, Tim Linkinwater, how dare you talk about
dying?" roared the twins by one impulse, and blowing their
old noses violently.
" That's what I've got to say, Mr. Edwin and Mr. Charles,"
said Tim, squaring his shoulders again. " This isn't the first
time you've talked about superannuating me ; but, if you
please, we'll make it the last, and drop the subject for ever-
more."
With those words, Tim Linkinwater stalked out, and shut
himself up in his glass-case, with the air of a man who had
had his say, and was thoroughly resolved not to be put
down.
The brothers interchanged looks, and coughed some half-
dozen times without speaking.
" He must be done something with, brother Ned," said the
other, warmly ; " we must disregard his old scruples ; they
can't be tolerated, or borne. He must be made a partner,
brother Ned ; and if he won't submit to it peaceably, we must
have recourse to violence."
" Quite right," replied brother Ned, nodding his head as a
man thoroughly determined ; " quite right, my dear brother.
If he won't listen to reason, we must do it against his will, and
show him that we are determined to exert our authority. We
must quarrel with him, brother Charles."
" We must. We certainly must have a quarrel with Tim
Linkinwater," said the other. " But in the meantime my dear
brother, we are keeping our young friend, and the poor lady
and her daughter will be anxious for his return. So let us say
good-by for the present, and — there, there — take care of that
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 4^5
box, my dear sir — and — no, no, no, not a word now — be care-
ful of the crossings and "
And with any disjointed and unconnected words which
would prevent Nicholas from pouring forth his thanks, the
brothers hurried him out : shaking hands with him all the
way, and affecting very unsuccessfully — they were poor hands
at deception ! — to be wholly unconscious of the feelings that
mastered him.
Nicholas's heart was too full to allow of his turning into
the street until he had recovered some composure. When he
at last glided out of the dark doorway-corner in which he had
been compelled to halt, he caught a glimpse of the twins
stealthily peeping in at one corner of the glass-case, evidently
undecided whether they should follow up their late attack
without delay, or for the present postpone laying further siege
to the inflexible Tim Linkinwater.
To recount all the delight and wonder which the circum-
stances just detailed awakened at Miss La Creevy's, and all
the things that were done, said, thought, expected, hoped, and
prophesied in consequence, is beside the present course and
purpose of these adventures. It is sufificient to state, in brief,
that Mr. Timothy Linkinwater arrived, punctual to his appoint-
ment ; that, oddity as he was, and jealous as he was bound to
be, of the proper exercise of his employers' most comprehen-
sive liberality, he reported strongly and warmly in favor of
Nicholas ; and, that next day, he was appointed to the vacant
stool in the counting-house of Cheeryble, Brothers, with a
present salary of one hundred and twenty pounds a year.
"And I think, my dear brother," said Nicholas's first
friend, " that if we were to let them that little cottage at Bow
which is empty, at something under the usual rent, now.?
Eh, brother Ned ? "
" For nothing at all," said brother Ned. " We are rich,
and should be ashamed to touch the rent under such cir-
cumstances as these. Where is Tim Linkinwater ? — for
nothing at all, my dear brother, for nothing at all."
" Perhaps it would be better to say som.ething, brother
Ned," suggested the other, mildly; "it would help to preserve
habits of frugality, you know, and remove any painful sense of
overwhelming obligations. We might say fifteen pound, or
twenty pound, and if it was punctually paid, make it up to
them in some other way. And I might secretly advance
a small loan, towards a little furniture, and you might secretly
^
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
advance another small loan, brother Ned ; and if we find them
doing well — as we shall ; there's no fear, no fear — we can
change the loans into gifts. Carefully, brother Ned, and by
degrees, and without pressing upon them too much ; what do
you say now, brother ? "
/'^^Brother Ned gave his hand upon it, and not only said it
/ should be done, but had it done too ; and in one short week,
•\ Nicholas took possession of the stool, and Mrs. Nickleby and
j Kate took possession of the house, and all was hope, bustle,
\a.nd light-heartedness.
There surely never was such a week of discoveries and sur-
prises as the first week of that cottage. Every night when
Nicholas came home, something new had been found out.
One day it was a grape vine, and another it was a boiler, and
another day it was the key of the front parlor closet at the
bottom of the waterbutt, and so on through a hundred items.
Then, this room was embellished with a muslin curtain, and
that room was rendered quite elegant by a window-blind, and
such improvements were made, as no one would have supposed
possible. Then there was Miss La Creevy, who had come
out in the omnibus to stop a day or two and help, and who
was perpetually losing a very small brown paper parcel of tin
tacks and a very large hammer, and running about with her
sleeves tucked up at the wrists, and falling off pairs of steps
and hurting herself very much — and Mrs. Nickleby, who
talked incessantly, and did something now and then, but not
often — and Kate, who busied herself noiselessly everywhere,
and was pleased with everything — and Smike, who made the
garden a perfect wonder to look upon — and Nicholas, who
helped and encouraged them every one — all the peace and
cheerfulness of home restored, with such new zest imparted
to every frugal pleasure, and such delight to every hour of
meeting, as misfortune and separation alone could give ! _^
/^ In short, the poor Nicklebys were social and happy, while I
\the rich Nickleby was alone and miserable. (
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 45^
CHAPTER XXXVI.
PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL ; RELATING TO FAMILY MATTERS.
SHOWING HOW MR. KENWIGS UNDERWENT VIOLENT AGITA'
TION, AND HOW MRS. KENWIGS WAS AS WELL AS COULD
BE EXPECTED.
It might have been seven o'clock in the evening, and it
was growing dark in the narrow streets near Golden Square,
when Mr. Kenwigs sent out for a pair of the cheapest white kid
gloves — those at fourteenpence — and selecting the strongest,
which happened to be the right-hand one, walked down stairs
with an air of pomp and much excitement, and proceeded to
muffle the nob of the street-door knocker therein. Having
executed this task with great nicety, Mr. Kenwigs pulled the
door to, after him, and just stepped across the road to try the
effect from the opposite side of the street. Satisfied that
nothing could possibly look better in its way, Mr. Kenwigs
then stepped back again, and calling through the keyhole to
Morleena to open the door, vanished into the house, and was
seen no longer.
Now, considered as an abstract circumstance, there was no
more obvious cause or reason why Mr. Kenwigs should take
the trouble of muffling this particular knocker, than there
would have been for his muffling the knocker of any nobleman
or gentleman resident ten miles off ; because, for the greater
convenience of the numerous lodgers, the street-door always
stood wide open, and the knocker was never used at all. The
first floor, the second floor, and the third floor, had each a
bell of its own. As to the attics, no one ever called on them ;
if anybody wanted the parlors, they were close at hand, and
all he had to do was to walk straight into them, while the
kitchen had a separate entrance down the area-steps. As
a question of mere necessity and usefulness, therefore, this
muffling of the knocker was thoroughly incomprehensible.
But knockers may be muffled for other purposes than those
of mere utilitarianism, as, in the present instance, was clearly
shown. There are certain polite forms and ceremonies which
must be observed in civilized life, or mankind relapse into
4S8
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
their original barbarism. No genteel lady was ever yet con-
fined— indeed, no genteel confinement can possibly take place
— without the accompanying symbol of a muffled knocker.
Mrs. Kenwigs was a lady of some pretensions to gentility ;
Mrs. Kenwigs was confined. And, therefore, Mr. Kenwigs
tied up the silent knocker on the premises in a white kid
glove.
"I'm not quite certain neither," said Mr. Kenwigs, arrang-
ing his shirt-collar, and walking slowly up stairs, " whether,
as it's a boy, I won't have it in the papers."
Pondering upon the advisability of this step, and the
sensation it was likely to create in the neighborhood, Mr.
Kenwigs betook himself to the sitting-room, where various
extremely diminutive articles of clothing were airing on a
horse before the fire, and Mr. Lumbey, the doctor, was dand-
ling the baby — that is, the old baby — not the new one.
" It's a fine boy, Mr. Kenwigs," said Mr. Lumbey, the
doctor.
" You consider him a fine boy, do you, sir ? " returned Mr.
Kenwigs.
" It's the finest boy I ever saw in all my life," said the
doctor. " I never saw such a baby."
It is a pleasant thing to reflect upon, and furnishes a com-
plete answer to those who contend for the gradual degenera-
tion of the human species, that every baby bom into the world
is a finer one than the last.
" I ne-ver saw such a baby," said Mr. Lumbey, the doctor.
"Morleena was a fine baby," remarked Mr. Kenwigs ; as
if this were rather an attack, by implication, upon the family.
" They were all fine babies," said Mr. Lumbey. And Mr.
Lumbey went on nursing the baby with a thoughtful look.
Whether he was considering under what head he could best
charge the nursing in the bill, was best known to himself.
During this short conversation. Miss Morleena, as the
eldest of the family, and natural representative of her mother,
during her indisposition, had been hustling and_ slapping the
three younger Miss Kenwigses without intermission ; which
considerate and affectionate conduct brought tears into the
eyes of Mr. Kenwigs, and caused him to declare that, in un-
derstanding and behavior, that child was a woman.
" She will be a treasure to the man she marries, sir," said
Mr. Kenwigs, half aside ; " I think she'll marry above her
station, Mr. Lumbey."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 459
" I shouldn't wonder at all," replied the doctor.
" You never see her dance, sir, did you ? " asked Mr.
Kenwigs.
The doctor shook his head,
" Ay ! " said Mr. Kenwigs, as though he pitied him from
his heart, " then you don't know what she's capable of."
All this time, there had been a great whisking in and out
of the other room ; the door had been opened and shut very
softly about twenty times a minute (for it was necessary to
keep Mrs. Kenwigs quiet) ; and the baby had been exhibited
to a score or two of deputations from a select body of female
friends, who had assembled in the passage, and about the
street-door, to discuss the event in all its bearings. Indeed,
the excitement extended itself over the whole street, and groups
of ladies might be seen standing at the doors (some in the
interesting condition in which Mrs.Kenwigs had last appeared
in public), relating their experiences of similar occurrences.
Some few acquired great credit from having prophesied, the
day before yesterday, exactly when it would come to pass ;
others, again, related, how that they guessed what it was,
directly they saw Mr. Kenwigs turn pale and run up the
street as hard as ever he could go. Some said one thing, and
some another ; but all talked together, and all agreed upon
two points : firstly, that it was very meritorious and highly
praiseworthy in Mrs. Kenwigs, to do as she had done : and
secondly, that there never was such a skilful and scientific
doctor as that Doctor Lumbey.
In the midst of this general hubbub. Doctor Lumbey sat
in the first floor front, as before related, nursing the deposed
baby, and talking to Mr. Kenwigs. He was a stout bluff-
looking gentleman, with no shirt-collar, to speak of, and a
beard that had been growing since yesterday morning ; for
Doctor Lumbey was popular, and the neighborhood was
prolific ; and there had been no less than three other knockers
muffled, one after the other, within the last forty-eight hours,
" Well, Mr. Kenwigs," said Dr. Lumbey, " this makes six.
You'll have a fine family in time, sir."
"I think six is almost enough, sir," returned Mr. Kenwigs.
" Pooh ! pooh ! " said the doctor. " Nonsense ! not half
enough."
With this, the doctor laughed ; but he didn't laugh half as
much as a married friend of Mrs. Kenwigs's, who had just
come in from the sick chamber to report progress, and take a
46o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
small sip of brandy-and-water ; and who seemed to consider
it one of the best jokes ever launched upon society.
" They're not altogether dependent upon good fortune,
neither," said Mr. Kenwigs, taking his second daughter on
his knee ; they have expectations."
" Oh ! indeed ! " said Mr. Lumbey, the doctor.
"And very good ones too, I believe, haven't they?" asked
the married lady.
" Why, ma'am," said Mr. Kenwigs, " it's not exactly for
me to say what they may be, or what they may not be. It's
not for me to boast of any family with which I have the honor
to be connected ; at the same time, Mrs. Kenwigs's is — I
should say," said Mr. Kenwigs abrupdy, and raising his voice
as he spoke, " that my children might come into a matter of a
hundred pound a-piece, perhaps. Perhaps more, but certainly
that."
" And a very pretty little fortune," said the married lady.
" There are some relations of Mrs. Kenwigs's," said Mr.
Kenwigs, taking a pinch of snuff from the doctor's box, and
then sneezing very hard, for he wasn't used to it, " that might
leave their hundred pound a-piece to ten people, and yet not
go a begging when they had done it."
" Ah ! I know who you mean, " observed the married lady,
nodding her head.
" I made mention of no names, and I wish to make mention
of no names," said Mr. Kenwigs, with a portentous look.
" Many of my friends have met a relation of Mrs. Kenwigs's in
this very room, as would do honor to any company ; that's all."
" I've met him," said the married lady, with a glance
towards Doctor Lumbey.
" It's naterally very gratifying to my feelings as a father,
to see such a man as that, a kissing and taking notice of my
children," pursued Mr. Kenwigs. " It's naterally very grati-
fying to my feelings as a man, to know that man. It will be
naterally very gratifying to my feelings as a husband, to make
that man acquainted with this ewent."
Having delivered his sentiments in this form of words,
Mr. Kenwigs arranged his second daughter's flaxen tail, and
bade her be a good girl and mind what her sister, Morleena,
said.
" That girl grows more like her mother every day," said
Mr. Lumbey, suddenly stricken with an enthusiastic admiration
of Morleena.
_ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 461
" There ! " rejoined the married lady. " What I always say ;
what I always did say ! She's the very picter of her." Having
thus directed the general attention to the young lady in
question, the married lady embraced the opportunity of
taking another sip of the brandy-and-water — and a pretty long
sip too.
" Yes, there is a likeness," said Mr. Kenwigs, after some
reflection. " But such a woman as Mrs. Kenwigs was, afore
she was married ! Good gracious, such a woman ! "
Mr. Lumbey shook his head with great solemnity, as
though to imply that he supposed she must have been rather
a dazzler,
" Talk of fairies ! " cried Mr. Kenwigs. "/ never see any-
body so light to be alive, never. Such manners too ; so play-
ful, and yet so sewerely proper ! As for her figure ! It isn't
generally known," said Mr. Kenwigs, dropping his voice ; "but
her figure was such, at that time, that the sign of the Britannia
over in the Holloway road, was painted from it ! "
" But only see what it is now ! " urged the married lady.
" Does she look like the mother of six ? "
"Quite ridiculous," cried the doctor.
" She looks a deal more like her own daughter," said the
married lady.
" So she does," assented Mr. Lumbey. " A great deal
more."
Mr. Kenwigs was about to make some further observations,
most probably in confirmation of his opinion, when another
married lady, who had looked in to keep up Mrs. Kenwigs's
spirits, and help to clear off anything in the eating and drink-
ing way that might be going about, put in her head to
announce that she had just been down to answer the bell, and
that there was a gentleman at the door who wanted to see
Mr. Kenwigs " most particular."
Shadowy visions of his distinguished relation flitted
through the brain of Mr. Kenwigs, as this message was
delivered ; under their influence, he despatched Morleena to
show the gentleman up straightway.
" Why I do declare," said Mr. Kenwigs, standing opposite
the door so as to get the earliest glimpse of the visitor, as he
came up stairs, "it's Mr. Johnson! How do you find your-
self, sir ? "
Nicholas shook hands, kissed his old pupils all round,
entrusted a large parcel of toys to the guardianship of
^62 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Morleena, bowed to the doctor and the married ladies, and
inquired after Mrs. Kenwigs in a tone of interest which went
to the very heart and soul of the nurse, who had come in to
warm some mysterious compound, in a little saucepan over
the fire.
" I ought to make a hundred apologies to you for calling
at such a season," said Nicholas, " but I was not aware of it
until I had rung the bell, and my time is so fully occupied now,
that I feared it might be some days before I could possibly
come again."
" No time like the present, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs. " The
sitiwation of Mrs. Kenwigs, sir, is no obstacle to a little con-
versation between you and me, I hope ? "
"You are very good," said Nicholas.
At this juncture, proclamation was made by another mar-
ried lady, that the baby had begun to eat like anything ;
whereupon the two married ladies, already mentioned, rushed
tumultuously into the bed-room to behold him in the act.
"The fact is," resumed Nicholas, " that before I left the
country, where I have been for some time past, I undertook
to deliver a message to you."
" Ay, ay ? " said Mr. Kenwigs.
"And I have been," added Nicholas, " already in town for
some days without having had an opportunity of doing so."
" It's no matter, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs. " I dare say it's
none the worse for keeping cold. Message from the coun-
try ! " said Mr. Kenwigs, ruminating ; " that's curious. I don't
know anybody in the country."
" Miss Petowker," suggested Nicholas.
" Oh ! from her, is it ? " said Mr. Kenwigs. " Oh dear,
yes. Ah ! Mrs. Kenwigs will be glad to hear from her.
Henrietta Petowker, eh ? How odd things come about, now !
That you should have met her in the country ! Well ! "
Hearing this mention of their old friend's name, the four
Miss Kenwigses gathered round Nicholas, open eyed and
mouthed, to hear more. Mr. Kenwigs looked a little curious
too, but quite comfortable and unsuspecting.
"The message relates to family matters," said Nicholas,
hesitating.
" Oh, never mind," said Kenwigs, glancing at Mr. Lumbey,
who having rashly taken charge of little Lillyvick, found no-
body disposed to relieve him of his precious burden : " All
friends here."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 463
Nicholas hemmed once or twice, and seemed to have some
difficulty in proceeding.
"At Portsmouth, Henrietta Petowker is," observed Mr.
Kenwigs.
" Yes," said Nicholas, " Mr. Lillyvick is there."
Mr. Kenwigs turned pale, but recovered, and said, that
was an odd coincidence also.
"The message is from him," said Nicholas.
Mr. Kenwigs appeared to revive. He knew that his niece
was in a delicate state, and had, no doubt, sent word that they
were to forward full particulars. Yes. That was very kind
of him ; so like him too !
" He desired me to give you his kindest love," said Nicholas.
"Very much obliged to him, I'm sure. Your great-uncle,
Lillyvick, my dears," interposed Mr. Kenwigs, condescend-
ingly explaining it to the children.
" His kindest love," resumed Nicholas ; " and to say that
he had no time to write, but that he was married to Miss Pe-
towker."
Mr. Kenwigs started from his seat with a petrified stare,
caught his second daughter by her flaxen tail, and covered his
face with his pocket-handkerchief. Morleena fell, all stiff and
rigid, into the baby's chair, as she had seen her mother fall
when she fainted away, and the two remaining little Kenwigses
shrieked in affright.
" My children, my defrauded, swindled infants ! " cried
Mr. Kenwigs, pulling so hard, in his vehemence, at the flaxen
tail of his second daughter, that he lifted her up on tiptoe,
and kept her, for some seconds, in that attitude. " Villain,
ass, traitor ! "
" Drat the man ! " cried the nurse, looking angrily round.
" What does he mean by making that noise here ? "
" Silence, woman ! " said Mr. Kenwigs, fiercely.
" I won't be silent," returned the nurse. " Be silent your-
self, you wretch. Have' you no regard for your baby .? "
" No ! " returned Mr. Kenwigs.
" More shame for you," returned the nurse. " Ugh ! you
unnatural monster."
" Let him die," cried Mr. Kenwigs, in the torrent .of his
wrath. " Let him die ! He has no expectations, no property
to come into. We want no babies here," said Mr. Kenwigs
recklessly. " Take 'em away, take 'em away to the Fond-
ling ! "
464 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
With these awful remarks, Mr. Kenwigs sat himself down
in a chair, and defied the nurse, who made the best of her way
into the adjoining room, and returned with a stream of ma-
trons, declaring that Mr. Kenwigs had spoken blasphemy
against his family and must be raving mad.
Appearances were certainly not in Mr. Kenwigs's favor,
for the exertion of speaking with so much vehemence, and
yet in such a tone as should prevent his lamentations reaching
the ears of Mrs, Kenwigs, had made him very black in the
face ; besides which, the excitement of the occasion, and un-
wonted indulgence in various strong cordials to celebrate it,
had swollen and dilated his features to a most unusual extent.
But, Nicholas and the doctor — who had been passive at first,
doubting very much whether Mr. Kenwigs could be in ear-
nest— interposing to explain the immediate cause of his con-
dition, the indignation of the matrons was changed to pity,
and they implored him, with much feeling, to go quietly to
bed.
" The attentions," said Mr. Kenwigs, looking around with
a plaintive air, " the attentions that I've shown to that man !
the hyseters he has eat, and the pints of ale he has drank, in
this house "
" It's very trying, and very hard, to bear, we know," said
one of the married ladies ; but think of your dear darling
wife."
" Oh yes, and what she's been a undergoing of, only this
day," cried a great many voices. " There's a good man, do."
" The presents that have been made to him," said Mr.
Kenwigs, reverting to his calamity, " the pipes, the snuff-boxes
— a pair of india-rubber goloshes, that cost six and six — "
" Ah ! it won't bear thinking of, indeed," cried the ma-
trons generally ; "but it'll all come to him, never fear."
Mr. Kenwigs looked darkly upon the ladies, as if he would
prefer its all coming home to /lim, as there was nothing to be
got by it all ; but he said nothing, and resting his head upon
his hand, subsided into a kind of doze.
Then, the matrons again expatiated on the expediency of
-jakhig the good gentleman to bed ; observing that he would
be better to-morrow, and that they knew what was the wear
and tear of some men's minds when their wives were taken as
Mrs. Kenwigs had been that day, and that it did him great
credit, and there was nothing to be ashamed of in it ; far from
it ; they liked to see it, they did, for it showed a good heart.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. ^5^
And one lady observed, as a case bearing upon the present,
that her husband was often quite light-headed from anxiety
on similar occasions, and that once, when her little Johnny
was born, it was nearly a week before he came to himself
again, during the whole of which time he did nothing but cry
"Is it a boy, is it a boy?" in a manner which went to the
hearts of all his hearers.
At length Morleena (who quite forgot she had fainted,
when she found she was not noticed) announced that a cham-
ber was ready for her afflicted parent ; and Mr. Kenwigs, hav-
ing partially smothered his four daughters in the closeness of
his embrace, accepted the doctor's arm on one side, and the
support of Nicholas on the other, and was conducted up
stairs to a bed-room which had been secured for the occasion.
Having seen him sound asleep, and heard him snore most
satisfactorily, and having further presided over the distribution
of the toys, to the perfect contentment of all the little Ken-
wigses, Nicholas took his leave. The matrons dropped off, one
by one, with the exception of six or eight particular friends,
who had determined to stop all night ; the lights in the houses
gradually disappeared ; the last bulletin was issued that Mrs,
Kenwigs was as well as could be expected ; and the whole
family was left to their repose.
CHAPTER XXXVn.
NICHOLAS FINDS FURTHER FAVOR IN THE EYES OF THE
BROTHERS CHEERYBLE AND MR. TIMOTHY LINKINWATER,
THE BROTHERS GIVE A BANQUET ON A GREAT ANNUAL
OCCASION. NICHOLAS, ON RETURNING HOME FROM IT,
RECEIVES A MYSTERIOUS AND IMPORTANT DISCLOSURE
FROM THE LIPS OF MRS. NICKLEBY.
The Square in which the counting-house of the brothers
Cheeryble was situated, although it might not wholly realize
the very sanguine expectations which a stranger would be dis-
posed to form on hearing the fervent encomiums bestowed
upon it by Tim Linkinwater, was, nevertheless, a sufficiently
3°
466
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
desirable nook in the heart of a busy town like London, and
one which occupied a high place in the affectionate remem-
brances of several grave persons domiciled in the neighbor-
hood, whose recollections, however, dated from a much more
recent period, and whose attachment to the spot was far less
absorbing, than were the recollections and attachment of the
enthusiastic Tim.
And let not those Londoners whose eyes have been accus-
tomed to the aristocratic gravity of Grosvenor Square and
Hanover Square, the dowager barrenness and frigidity of
Fitzroy Square, or the gravel walks and garden seats of the
Squares of Russell and Euston, suppose that the affections of
Tim Linkinwater, or the inferior lovers of this particular
locality, had been awakened and kept alive by any refreshing
associations with leaves, how^ever dingy, or grass, however
bare and thin. The City Square has no enclosure, save the
lamp-post in the middle ; and has no grass but the weeds which
spring up round its base. It is a quiet, little-frequented, re-
tired spot, favorable to melancholy and contemplation, and
appointments of long-waiting ; and up and down its every side
the Appointed saunters idly by the hour together wakening
the echoes with the monotonous sound of his footsteps on the
smooth worn stones, and counting, first the windows, and then
the very bricks of the tall silent houses that hem him round
about. In winter-time, the snow will linger there, long after it
has melted from the busy streets and highways. The sum-
mer's sun holds it in some respect, and, while he darts his
cheerful rays sparingly into the square, keeps his fiery heat
and glare for noisier and less-imposing precincts. It is so
quiet, that you can almost hear the ticking of your own watch
when you stop to cool in its refreshing atmosphere. There is
a distant hum — of coaches, not of insects — but no other sound
disturbs the stillness of the square. The ticket porter leans
idly against the post at the corner, comfortably warm, but not
hot, although the day is broiling. His white apron flaps
languidly in the air, his head gradually droops uj»on his
breast, he takes very long winks with both eyes at once ; even
he is unable to withstand the soporific influence of the place,
and is gradually falling asleep. But now, he starts into full
wakefulness, recoils a step or two, and gazes out before him
with eager wildness in his eye. Is it a job, or a boy at mar-
bles ? Does he see a ghost, or hear an organ ? No ; sight
more unwonted still — there is a butterfly in the square — a real,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
467
live butterfly ! astray from flowers and sweets, and fluttering
among the iron heads of the dusty area railings.
But if there were not many matters immediately without
the doors of Cheeryble Brothers, to engage the attention or
distract the thoughts of the young clerk, there were not a few
within, to interest and amuse him. There was scarcely an
object in the place, animate or inanimate, which did not par-
take in some degree of the scrupulous method and punctuality
of Mr. Timothy Linkinwater. Punctual as the counting-house
dial, which he maintained to be the best time-keeper in London
next after the clock of some old, hidden, unknown church
hard by, (for Tim held the fabled goodness of that at the
House Guards to be a pleasant fiction, invented by jealous
Westenders,) the old clerk performed the minutest actions of the
day, and arranged the minutest articles in the little room, in a
precise and regular order, which could not have been exceeded
if it had actually been a real glass case, fitted with the choicest
curiosities. Paper, pens, ink, ruler, sealing-wax, wafers, pounce-
box, string-box, fire-box, Tim's hat, Tim's scrupulously-folded
gloves, Tim's other coat — looking precisely like a back view
of himself as it hung against the wall — all had their ac-
customed inches of space. Except the clock, there was not
such an accurate and unimpeachable instrument in existence,
as the little thermometer which hung behind the door. There
was not a bird of such methodical and business-like habits in
all the world, as the blind blackbird, who dreamed and dozed
away his days in a large snug cage, and had lost his voice,
from old age, years before Tim first bought him. There was
not such an eventful story in the whole range of anecdote, as
Tim could tell concerning the acquisition of that very bird ;
how, compassionating his starved and suffering condition, he
had purchased him, with the view of humanely terminating his
wretched life ; how, he determined to wait three days and see
whether the bird revived ; how, before half the time was out
the bird did revive ; and how he went on reviving and picking
up his appetite and good looks until he gradually became
what — " what you see him now, sir ? " — Tim would say, glanc-
ing proudly at the cage. And with that, Tim would utter a
melodious chirrup, and cry " Dick ; " and Dick, who, for any
sign of life he had previously given, might have been a wooden
or stuffed representation of a blackbird indifferently executed,
would come to the side of the cage in three small jumps, and,
thrusting his bill between the bars, would turn his sightless
468
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
head towards his old master — and at that moment it would be
very difficult to determine which of the two was the happier,
the bird or Tim Linkinwater.
Nor was this all. Everything gave back, besides, some
reflection of the kindly spirit of the brothers. The warehouse-
men and porters were such sturdy, jolly fellows that it was
a treat to see them. Among the shipping-announcements and
steam-packet lists which decorated the counting-house wall,
were designs for alms-houses, statements of charities, and
plans for new hospitals. A blunderbuss and two swords hung
above the chimney-piece, for the terror of evil-doers ; but the
blunderbuss was rusty and shattered, and the swords were
broken and edgeless. Elsewhere, their open display in such
a condition would have raised a smile ; but, there, it seemed
as though even violent and offensive weapons j^artook of the
reigning influence, and became emblems of mercy and for-
bearance.
Such thoughts as these, occurred to Nicholas very strongly,
on the morning when he first took possession of the vacant
stool, and looked about him, more freely and at ease than he
had before enjoyed an opportunity of doing. Perhaps they
encouraged and stimulated him to exertion, for, during the
next two weeks, all his spare hours, late at night and early in
the morning, were incessantly devoted to acquiring the mys-
teries of book-keeping and some other forms of mercantile
account. To these he applied himself with such steadiness
and perseverance that, although he brought no greater amount
of previous knowledge to the subject than certain dim recol-
lections of two or three very long sums entered into a cypher-
ing-book at school, and relieved for parental inspection by the
effigy of a fat swan tastefully flourished by the writing-master's
own hand, he found himself, at the end of a fortnight, in a
condition to report his proficiency to Mr. Linkinwater, and
to claim his promise that he, Nicholas Nickleby, should now
be allowed to assist him in his graver labors.
It was a sight to behold Tim Linkinwater slowly bring out
a massive ledger and day book, and, after turning them over
and over, and affectionately dusting their backs and sides,
open the leaves here and there, and cast his eyes, half mourn-
fully, half proudly, upon the fair and unblotted entries.
" P'our-and-forty year, next May ! " said Tim. Many new
ledgers since then. Four-and-forty year ! "
Tim closed the book again.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 469
" Come, come," said Nicholas, " I am all impatience to
begin."
Tim Linkinwater shook his head with an air of mild reproof.
Mr. Nickleby was not sufficiently impressed with the deep and
awful nature of his undertaking. Suppose there should be any
mistake — any scratching out ! —
Young men are adventurous. It is extraordinary what
they will rush upon, sometimes. Without even taking the pre-
caution of sitting himself down upon his stool, but standing
leisurely at the desk, and witKasmile upon his face — actually
a smile — there was no mistake about it ; Mr. Linkinwater
often mentioned it afterwards — Nicholas dipped his pen into
the inkstand before him, and plunged into the books of
Cheeryble Brothers !
Tim Linkinwater turned pale, and, tilting up his stool on
the two legs nearest Nicholas, looked over his shoulder in
breathless anxiety. Brother Charles and Brother Ned entered
the counting-house together ; but Tim Linkinwater, without
looking round, impatiently waved his hand as a caution that
profound silence must be observed, and followed the nib of
the inexperienced pen with strained and eager eyes.
The brothers looked on with smiling faces, but Tim Linkin-
water smiled not, nor moved for some minutes. At length,
he drew a long slow breath, and, still maintaining his position
on the tilted stool, glanced at brother Charles, secretly pointed
with the feather of his pen towards Nicholas, and nodded his
head in a grave and resolute manner, plainly signifying " He'll
do."
Brother Charles nodded again, and exchanged a laughing
look with Brother Ned ; but, just then, Nicholas stopped to
refer to some other page, and Tim Linkinwater, unable to con-
tain his satisfaction any longer, descended from his stool, and
caught him rapturously by the hand.
" He has done it ! " said Tim, looking round at his
employers and shaking his head triumphantly. " His capital
B's and D's are exactly like mine ; he dots all his small i's
and crosses every t as he writes it. There an't such a young
man as this in all London," said Tim, clapping Nicholas on
the back ; " not one. Don't tell me ! The city can't produce
his equal. I challenge the city to do it ! "
With this casting down of his gauntlet, Tim Linkinwater
struck the desk such a blow with his clenched fist, that the
old blackbird tumbled off his perch with the start it gave him,
47°
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
and actually uttered a feeble croak, in the extremity of his
astonishment.
" Well said, Tim, well said, Tim Linkinwater ! " cried
brother Charles, scarcely less pleased than Tim himself, and
clapping his hands gently as he spoke, '' I knew our young
friend would take great pains, and I was quite certain he
would succeed, in no time. Didn't I say so, brother Ned ? "
" You did, my dear brother ; certainly, my dear brother,
you said so, and you were quite right," replied Ned. ''Quite
right. Tim Linkinwater is excited, but he is justly excited,
properly excited. Tim is a fine fellow. Tim Linkinwater, sir
— you're a fine fellow."
" Here's a pleasant thing to think of ! " said Tim, wholly
regardless of this address to himself, and raising his spectacles
from the ledger to the brothers. " Here's a pleasant thing.
Do you suppose I haven't often thought what would become
of these books when I was gone .'' Do you suppose I haven't
often thought that things might go on irregular and untidy
here, after I was taken away 1 But now," said Tim, extend-
ing his fore-finger towards Nicholas, " now, when I've shown
him a little more, I'm satisfied. The business will go on,
when I'm dead, as well as it did when I was alive — just the
same — and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that there
never were such books — never were such books ! No, nor
never will be such books — as the books of Cheeryble Brothers."
Having thus expressed his sentiments, Mr. Linkinwater
gave vent to a short laugh, indicative of defiance to the cities of
London and Westminster, and, turning again to his desk,
quietly carried seventy-six from the last column he had added
up, and went on with his work.
" Tim Linkinwater, sir," said brother Charles ; " give me
your hand, sir. This is your birth-day. How dare you talk
about anything else till you have been wished many happy
returns of the day, Tim Linkinwater? God bless you, Tim!
God bless you ! "
" My dear brother," said the other, seizing Tim's dis-
engaged fist, "Tim Linkinwater looks ten years younger than
he did on his last birth-day."
" Brother Ned, my dear boy," returned the other old fellow,
" I believe that Tim Linkinwater was born a hundred and fifty
years old, and is gradually coming down to five-and-twenty ;
for he's younger every birth-day than he was the year before."
" So he is, brother Charles, so he is," replied brother Ned.
" There's not a doubt about it."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 471
•
"Remember, Tim," said brother Charles, "that we dine
at half-past five to-day instead of two o'clock ; we always de-
part from our usual custom on this anniversary, as you very
well know, Tim Linkinwater. Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, you
will make one. Tim Linkinwater, give me your snuff-box as
a remembrance to brother Charles and myself of an attached
and faithful rascal, and take that, in exchange, as a feeble mark
of our respect and esteem, and don't open it until you go to
bed, and never say another word upon the subject, or I'll kill
the blackbird. A dog 1 He should have had a golden cage
half-a-dozen years ago, if it would have made him or his
master a bit the happier. Now, brother Ned, my dear fellow,
I'm ready. At half-past five, remember, Mr. Nickleby ! Tim
Linkinwater, sir, take care of Mr. Nickleby at half-past five.
Now, brother Ned."
Chattering away thus, according to custom, to prevent the
possibility of any thanks or acknowledgment being expressed
on the other side, the twins trotted off, arm in arm ; having
endowed Tim Linkinwater with a costly gold snuff-box, in-
closing a bank note worth more than its value ten times told.
At a quarter past five o'clock, punctual to the minute, arrived
according to annual usage, Tim Linkinwater's sister ; and a
great to-do there was, between Tim Linkinwater's sister and
the old housekeeper, respecting Tim Linkinwater's sister's cap,
which had been despatched, per boy, from the house of the
family where Tim Linkinwater's sister boarded, and had not
yet come to hand ; notwithstanding that it had been packed
up in a bandbox, and the bandbox in a handkerchief, and the
handkerchief tied on to the boy's arm ; and notwithstanding
too, that the place of its consignment had been duly set forth
at full length, on the back of an old letter, and the boy en-
joined, under pain of divers horrible penalties, the full ex-
tent of which the eye of man could not foresee, to deliver the
same with all possible speed, and not to loiter by the way. Tim
Linkinwater's sister lamented ; the housekeeper condoled ;
and both kept thrusting their heads out of the second-tioor
window to see if the boy was " coming," — which would have
been highly satisfactor}^ and, upon the whole, tantamount to
his being come, as the distance to the corner was not quite
five yards — when, all of a sudden, and when he was least ex-
pected, the messenger, carrying the bandbox with elaborate
caution, appeared in an exactly opposite direction, puffing and
panting for breath, and flushed with recent exercise ; as welj
472 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
•
he might be ; for he had taken the air, in the first instance
behind a hackney-coach that went to Camberwell, and had
followed two Punches afterwards, and had seen the Stilts home
to their own door. The cap was all safe however — that was
one comfort — and it was no use scolding him — that was
another ; so the boy went upon his way rejoicing, and Tim
Linkinwater's sister presented herself to the company below
stairs, just five minutes after the half-hour had struck by Tim
Linkinwater's own infallible clock.
The company consisted of the Brothers Cheeryble, Tim
Linkinwater, a ruddy-faced white-headed friend of Tim's (who
was a superannuated bank clerk), and Nicholas, who was pre-
sented to Tim Linkinwater's sister with much gravity and so-
lemnity. The party being now completed, brother Ned rang
for dinner, and, dinner being shortly afterwards announced,
led Tim Linkinwater's sister into the next room where it
was set forth with great preparation. Then, brother Ned took
the head of the table, and brother Charles the foot ; and Tim
Linkinwater's sister sat on the left-hand of brother Ned, and
Tim Linkinwater himself on his right : and an ancient butler of
apoplectic appearance, and with very short legs, took up his
position at the back of brother Ned's ann-chair, and, waving
his right arm preparatory to taking off the covers with a flourish,
stood bolt upright and motionless.
" For these and all other blessings, brother Charles," said
Ned.
" Lord, make us truly thankful, brother Ned," said Charles.
Whereupon the apoplectic butler whisked off the top of
the soup-tureen, and shot, all at once, into a state of violent
activity.
There was abundance of conversation, and little fear of its
ever flagging, for the good-humor of the glorious old twins drew
everj-body out, and Tim Linkinwater's sister went off into a
long and circumstantial account of Tim Linkinwater's infancy,
immediately after the very first glass of champagne — taking
care to premise that she was very much Tim's junior, and had
only become acquainted with the facts from their being pre-
served and handed down in the family. This histoiy concluded,
brother Ned related how that, exactly thirty-five years ago, Tim
Linkinwater was suspected to have received a love-letter, and
how that vague information had been brought to the counting-
house of his having been seen walking down Cheapside with
an uncommonly handsome spinster ; at which there was a roar
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 47^
of laughter, and Tim Linkinwater being charged with blushing,
and called upon to explain, denied that the accusation was
true ; and further, that there would have been any harm in it
if it had been ; which last position occasioned the superannu-
ated bank clerk to laugh tremendously, and to declare that it
was the very best thing he had ever heard in his life, and that
Tim Linkinwater might say a great many things before he
said anything which would beat that.
There was one little ceremony peculiar to the day, both
the matter and manner of which made a very strong impres-
sion upon Nicholas. The cloth having been removed and the
decanters sent round for the first time, a profound silence suc-
ceeded, and in the cheerful faces of the brothers there appear-
ed an expression, not of absolute melancholy, but of quiet
thoughtful ness very unusual at a festive table. As Nicholas,
struck by this sudden alteration, was wondering what it could
portend, the brothers rose together, and the one at the top
of the table leaning forward towards the other, and speaking
in a low voice as if he were addressing him individually,
said :
" Brother Charles, my dear fellow, there is another asso-
ciation connected with this day which must never be forgotten,
and never can be forgotten, by you and me. This day, which
brought into the world a most faithful and excellent and ex-
emplary fellow, took from it, the kindest and very best of
parents, the very best of parents to us both. I wish that she
could have seen us in our prosperity, and shared it, and had
the happiness of knowing how dearly we loved her in it, as
we did when we were two poor boys ; but that was not to be.
My dear brother— The Memory of our Mother."
" Good Lord ! " thought Nicholas, " and there are scores of
people of their own station, knowing all this, and twenty thou-
sand times more, who wouldn't ask these men to dinner be-
cause they eat with their knives, and never went to school ! "
But there was no time to moralize, for the joviality again
became very brisk, and the decanter of port being nearly out,
brother Ned pulled the bell, which was instantly answered by
the apoplectic butler.
" David," said brother Ned.
" Sir," replied the butler.
" A magnum of the double-diamond, David, to drink the
health of Mr. Linkinwater."
Instantly, by a feat of dexterity, which was the admiration
474 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
of all the company, and had been, annually, for some years
past, the apoplectic butler, bringing his left hand from behind
the small of his back, produced the bottle with the corkscrew
already inserted ; uncorked it at a jerk ; and placed the
magnum and the cork before his master with the dignity of
conscious cleverness.
" Ha ! " said brother Ned, first examining the cork and
afterwards filling his glass while the old butler looked com-
placently and amiably on, as if it were all his own property,
but the company were quite welcome to make free with it,
" this looks well, David."
" It ought to, sir," replied David. " You'd be troubled to
find such a glass of wine as is our double-diamond, and that
Mr. Linkinwater knows very well. That was laid down, when
Mr. Linkinwater first come, that wine was, gendemen."
" Nay, David, nay," interposed brother Charles.
" I wrote the entry in the cellar-book myself, sir, //"you
please," said David, in the tone of a man, quite confident in
the strength of his facts. " Mr. Linkinwater had only been
here twenty year, sir, when that pipe of double-diamond was
laid down."
" David is quite right, quite right, brother Charles," said
Ned : " are the people here, David t "
" Outside the door, sir," replied the butler.
" Show 'em in, David, show 'em in."
At this bidding, the old butler placed before his master a
small tray of clean glasses, and opening the door admitted the
jolly porters and warehousemen whom Nicholas had seen
below. They were four in all. As they came in, bowing, and
grinning, and blushing, the housekeeper, and cook, and house-
maid, brought up the rear.
" Seven," said brother Ned, filling a corresponding num-
ber of glasses with the double-diamond, " and David, eight —
There ! Now you're all of you to drink the health of your
best friend Mr. Timothy Linkinwater, and wish him health
and long life and many happy returns of this day, both for his
own sake and that of your old masters, who consider him an
inestimable treasure. Tim Linkinwater, sir, your health.
Devil take you, Tim Linkinwater, sir, God bless you."
With this singular contradiction of terms, brother Ned
gave Tim Linkinwater a slap on the back, which made him
look, for the moment, almost as apoplectic as the butler ; and
tossed off the contents of his glass in a twinkling.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
475
The toast was scarcely drunk with all honor to Tim Lin-
kinwater, when the sturdiest and jolliest subordinate elbowed
himself a little in advance of his fellows, and exhibiting a
very hot and flushed countenance, pulled a single lock of
gray hair in the middle of his forehead as a respectful salute
to the company, and delivered himself as follows — rubbing
the palms of his hands very hard on a blue cotton handker-
chief as he did so :
" We're allowed to take a liberty once a year, gen'lemen,
and if you please we'll take it now ; there being no time like
the present, and no two birds in the hand worth one in the
bush as is well known — leastways in a contrary sense, which
the meaning is the same. (A pause — the butler unconvinced.)
What we mean to say is, that there never was (looking at the
butler) — such — (looking at the cook) noble — excellent — (look-
ing everywhere and seeing nobody) free, generous spirited
masters as them as has treated us so handsome this day. And
here's thanking of 'em for all their goodness as is so constancy
a diffusing of itself over everywhere, and wishing they may
live long and die happy ! "
When the foregoing speech was over — and it might have
been much more elegant and much less to the purpose — the
whole body of subordinates under command of the apoplectic
butler gave three soft cheers ; which, to that gentleman's great
indignation, were not very regular, inasmuch as the women
persisted in giving an immense number of little shrill hurrahs
among themselves, in utter disregard of the time. This done,
they withdrew ; shortly afterwards, Tim Linkinwater's sister
withdrew ; in reasonable time after that, the sitting was broken
up for tea and coffee, and a round game of cards.
At half-past ten — late hours for the square — there appeared
a little tray of sandwiches and a bowl of bishop, which bishop
coming on the top of the double diamond, and other excite-
ments, had such an effect upon Tim Linkinwater, that he drew
Nicholas aside, and gave him to understand, confidentially, that
it was quite true about the uncommonly handsome spinster,
and that she was to the full as good-looking as she had been
described — more so, indeed — but that she was in too much of a
hurry to change her condition, and consequently, while Tim
was courting her and thinking of changing his, got married to
somebody else. " After all, I dare say it was my fault," said
Tim. " I'll show you a print I have got up stairs, one of these
days. It cost me five-and-twenty shillings. I bought it, soon
476
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
after we were cool to each other. Don't mention it, but it's
the most extraordinary accidental likeness you ever saw — her
very portrait, sir ! "
By this time it was past eleven o'clock ; and Tim Linkin-
water's sister declaring that she ought to have been at home
a full hour ago, a coach was procured, into which she was
handed with great ceremony by brother Ned, while brother
Charles imparted the fullest directions to the coachman, and,
besides paying the man a shilling over and above his fare, in
order that he might take the utmost care of the lady, all but
choked him with a glass of spirits of uncommon strength, and
then nearly knocked all the breath out of his body in his
energetic endeavors to knock it in again.
At length the coach rumbled off, and Tim Linkinwater's
sister being now fairly on her way home, Nicholas and Tim
Linkinwater's friend took their leaves together, and left old
Tim and the worthy brothers to their repose.
As Nicholas had some distance to walk, it w^s considerably
past midnight by the time he reached home, where he found
his mother and Smike sitting up to receive him. It was long
after their usual hour of retiring, and they had expected him,
at the very latest, two hours ago ; but the time had not hung
heavily on their hands, for Mrs. Nickleby had entertained
Smike with a genealogical account of her family by the
mother's side, comprising biographical sketches of the princi-
pal members, and Smike had sat wondering what it was all
about, and whether it was learnt from a book, or said out of
Mrs. Nickleby's own head ; so that they got on together very
pleasantly.
Nicholas could not go to bed without expatiating on the ex-
cellences and munificence of the Brothers Cheery'ble, and
relating the great success which had attended his efforts that
day. But before he had said a dozen words, Mrs. Nickleby,
with many sly winks and nods, observed, that she was sure
Mr. Smike must be quite tired out, and that she positively
must insist on his not sitting up a minute longer.
" A most biddable creature he is to be sure," said Mrs.
Nickleby, when Smike had wished them good-night and left
the room. " I know you'll excuse me, Nicholas, my dear, but
I don't like to do this before a third person ; indeed, before
a young man it would not be quite proper, though really, after
all, I don't know what harm there is in it, except that to be
sure it's not a very becoming thing, though some people say it
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 47 -
is very much so, and really I don't know why it should not be,
if it's well got up, and the borders are small plaited, of course,
a good deal depends upon that."
With which preface, Mrs. Nickleby took her night-cap
from between the leaves of a very large prayer-book where it
had been folded up, small, and proceeded to' tie it on ; talking
away, in her usual discursive manner, all the time.
" People may say what they like," observed Mrs. Nickleby,
"but there's a great deal of comfort in a night-cap, as I'm
sure you would confess, Nicholas, my dear, if you would only
have strings to yours, and wear it like a Christian, instead of
sticking it upon the very top of your head like a blue-coat boy.
You needn't think it an unmanly or quizzical thing to be par-
ticular about your night-cap, for I have often heard your poor
dear papa, and the Reverend Mr. what's-his-name, who used
to read praye-rs in that old church with the curious little steeple
that the weathercock was blown off the night week before you
were born, — I have often heard them say, that the young men
at college are uncommonly particular about their night caps,
and that the Oxford night caps are quite celebrated for their
strength and goodness ; so much so, indeed, that the young
men never dream of going to bed without 'em, and I believe
it's admitted on all hands that they know what's good, and
don't coddle themselves."
Nicholas laughed, and entering no further into the sub-
ject of this lengthened harangue, reverted to the pleasant tone
of the little birthday party. And as Mrs. Nickleby instantly
became very curious respecting it, and made a great number of
inquiries touching what they had had for dinner, and how it
was put on table, and whether it was overdone or under-
done, and who was there, and what " the Mr. Cherrybles "
said, and what Nicholas said, and what the Mr. Cherrybles*
said when he said that ; Nicholas described the festivities at
full length, and also the occurrences of the morning.
" Late as it is," said Nicholas, " I am almost selfish enough
to wish that Kate had been up ; to hear all this. I was all
impatience, as I came along, to tell her."
" Why, Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby, putting her feet upon
, the fender, and drawing her chair close to it, as if settling
herself for a long talk. " Kate has been in bed — oh ! a couple
of hours — and I'm very glad, Nicholas my dear, that I pre-
vailed upon her not to sit up, for I wished very much to have
an opportunity of saying a few words to you. I am naturally
478
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
anxious about it, and of course it's a very delightful and con-
soling thing to have a grown-up son that one can put confi-
dence in, and advise with ; indeed I don't know any use there
would be in having sons at all, unless people could put confi-
dence in them."
Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his
mother began to speak, and looked at her with fixed atten-
tion.
" There was a lady in our neighborhood," said Mrs.
Nickleby, " speaking of sons puts me in mind of it — a lady in
our neighborhood when we lived near Dawlish, I think her
name was Rogers ; indeed I am sure it was if it wasn't
Murphy, which is the only doubt I have "
" Is it about her, mother, that you wish to speak to me ? "
said Nicholas quietly.
"About her r' cried Mrs. Nickleby. "Good gracious,
Nicholas, my dear, how can you be so ridiculous ! But that was
always the way with your poor dear papa, — just his way —
always wandering, never able to fix his thoughts on any one
subject for two minutes together. I think I see him now ! "
said Mrs. Nickleby, wiping her eyes, " looking at me while I
was talking to him about his affairs, just as if his ideas were in
a state of perfect conglomeration ! Anybody who had come in
upon us suddenly, would have supposed I was confusing and
distracting him instead of making things plainer ; upon my
word they would."
" I am very sorry, mother, that I should inherit this un-
fortunate slowness of apprehension," said Nicholas, kindly ;
" but I'll do my best to understand you, if you'll only go
straight on."
" Your poor papa ? " said Mrs. Nickleby, pondering. " He
never knew, till it was too late, what I would have had him
do!"
This was undoubtedly the case, inasmuch as the deceased
Mr. Nickleby had not arrived at the knowledge when he died.
Neither had Mrs. Nickleby herself ; which is, in some sort, an
explanation of the circumstance.
" However," said Mrs. Nickleby, drying her tears, " this
has nothing to do — certainly, nothing whatever to do — withs
the gentleman in the next house."
" I should suppose that the gentleman in the next house
has as little to do with us," returned Nicholas.
"There can be no doubt," said Mrs. Nickleby, "that he
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. ^70
is a gentleman, and has the manners of a gentleman, and the
appearance of a gentleman, although he does wear smalls and
gray worsted stockings. That may be eccentricity, or he may
be proud of his legs. I don't see why he shouldn't be. The
Prince Regent was proud of his legs, and so was Daniel
Lambert, who was also a fat man ; he was proud of his legs.
So was Miss Biffin ; she was — no," added Mrs. Nickleby,
correcting herself, " I think she had only toes, but the prin-
ciple is the same."
Nicholas looked on, quite amazed at the introduction of
this new theme. Which seemed just what Mrs. Nickleby had
expected him to be.
" You may well be surprised, Nicholas, my dear," she
said, " I am sure /was. It came upon me like a flash of fire,
and almost froze my blood. The bottom of his garden joins
the bottom of ours, and of course I had several times seen
him sitting among the scarlet-beans in his little arbor, or
working at his little hot-beds. I used to think he stared
rather, but I didn't take any particular notice of that, as we
were new-comers, and he might be curious to see what we
were like. But when he began to throw his cucumbers over
our wall "
" To throw his cucumbers over our wall ? " repeated
Nicholas, in great astonishment.
" Yes, Nicholas, my dear," replied Mrs. Nickleby in a very
serious tone ; " his cucumbers over our wall. And vegetable-
marrows likewise."
" Confound his impudence ! " said Nicholas, firing im-
mediately. "What does he mean by that.?"
" I don't think he means it impertinently at all," replied
Mrs. Nickleby.
" What ! " said Nicholas. " Cucumbers and vegetable-
marrows flying at the heads of the family as they walk in
their own garden, and not meant impertinently ! Why,
mother "
Nicholas stopped short ; for there waS an indescribable
expression of placid triumph, mingled with a modest confusion,
lingering between the borders of Mrs. Nickleby's nightcap,
which arrested his attention suddenly.
" He must be a very weak, and foolish, and inconsiderate
man," said Mrs. Nickleby; "blameable, indeed — at least I
suppose other people would consider him so ; of course I
can't be expected to express any opinion on that point,
480 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
especially after always defending your poor dear papa when
other people blamed him for making proposals to me ; and
to be sure there can be no doubt that he has taken a very
singular way of showing it. Still at the same time, his
attentions are — that is, as far as it goes, and to a certain ex-
tent of course — a flattering sort of thing. And although I
should never dream of marrying again with a dear girl like
Kate still unsettled in life "
" Surely, mother, such an idea never entered your brain
for an instant t " said Nicholas.
" Bless my heart, Nicholas, my dear," returned his mother
in a peevish tone, " isn't that precisely what I am saying, if
you would only let me speak ? Of course, I never gave it a
second thought, and I am surprised and astonished that you
should suppose me capable of such a thing. All I say is,
what step is the best to take, so as to reject these advances
civilly and delicately, and without hurting his feelings too
much, and driving him to despair, or anything of that kind ?
My goodness me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby, with a half
simper, " suppose he was to go doing anything rash to himself.
Could I ever be happy again, Nicholas ? "
Despite his vexation and concern, Nicholas could scarcely
help smiling, as he rejoined, " Now, do you think, mother,
that such a result would be likely to ensue from the most
cruel repulse ? "
" Upon my word, my dear, I don't know," returned Mrs.
Nickleby ; " really, I don't know. I am sure there was a case
in the day before yesterday's paper, extracted from one of the
French newspapers, about a journeyman shoemaker who was
jealous of a young girl in an adjoining village, because she
wouldn't shut herself up in an air-tight three-pair-of-stairs, and
charcoal herself to death with him ; and who went and hid
himself in a Wood with a sharp-pointed knife, and rushed out,
as she was passing by with a few friends, and killed himself
first and then all the friends, and then her — no, killed all the
friends first, and then herself, and then /«V«self — which it is
quite frightful to think of. Somehow or other," added Mrs.
Nickleby, after a momentary pause, "they always are journey-
men shoemakers who do these things in France, according to
the papers. I don't know how it is — something in the leather,
I suppose."
" But this man, who is not a shoemaker — what has he
done, mother, what has he said ? " inquired Nicholas, fretted
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
4?.^
almost beyond endurance, but looking nearly as resigned ai?d
patient as Mrs. Nickleby herself. " You know, there is no
language of vegetables, which converts a cucumber into a
formal declaration of attachment."
" My dear," replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head ana
looking at the ashes in the grate, "he has done and said all
sorts of things."
" Is there no mistake on your part ? " asked Nicholas.
" Mistake ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby. " Lord, Nicholas my
dear, do you suppose I don't know when a man's in earnest .' "
" Well, well ! " muttered Nicholas.
" Ever}^ time I go to the window," said Mrs. Nickleby,
" he kisses one hand, and lays the other upon his heart — of
course it's ver}^ foolish of him to do so, and I dare say you'll
say it's very wrong, but he does it very respectfully — very
respectfully indeed — and very tenderly, extremely tenderly.
So far, he deserves the greatest credit ; there can be no doubt
about that. Then, there are the presents which come pouring
over the wall every day, and very fine they certainly are, very
fine ; we had one of the cucumbers at dinner yesterday, and
think of pickling the rest for next winter. And last evening,"
added Mrs. Nickleby, with increased confusion, " he called
gently over the wall, as I was walking in the garden, and pro-
posed marriage, and an elopement. His voice is as clear as
a bell or a musical glass — very like a musical glass indeed —
but of course I didn't listen to it. Then, the question is,
Nicholas my dear, what am I to do ? "
" Does Kate know of this ? " asked Nicholas.
"I have not said a word about it yet," answered his
mother.
" Then, for Heaven's sake," rejoined Nicholas, rising,
" do not, for it would make her very unhappy. And with re-
gard to what you should do, my dear mother, do what your
good sense and feeling, and respect for my father's memory,
would prompt. There are a thousand ways in w^hich you can
show your dislilce of these preposterous and doting attentions.
If you act as decidedly as you ought and they are still con-
tinued, and to your annoyance, I can speedily put a stop to
them. But I should not interfere in a matter so ridiculous, and
attach importance to it, until you have vindicated yourself.
Most women can do that, but especially one of your age and
condition, in circumstances like these, which are unworthy of
a serious thought. I would not shame you by seeming to
31
482
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
take them to heart, or treat them earnestly for an instant. Ab-
surd old idiot ! "
So saying, Nicholas kissed his mother, and bade her good-
night, and they retired to their respective chambers.
To do Mrs. Nickleby justice, her attachment to her chil-
dren would have prevented her seriously contemplating a sec-
ond marriage, even if she could have so far conquered her
recollections of her late husband as to have any strong incli-
nations that way, _But, although there was no evil jand^ little
real selfishness in Mrs. Xickleby's heart, she liad a weak head
and a vain one ; and there was something so flattering in being
sought (and vainly sought) in marriage at this time of day,
that she could not dismiss the passion of the unkhown'gentle-
man, quite so summarily or lightly, as Nicholas appeared to
deem becoming.
" As to its being preposterous, and doting, and ridiculous,"
thought Mrs. Nickleby, communing with herself in her own
room, " I don't see that, at all. It's hopeless on his part,
certainly ; but why he should be an absurd old idiot, I confess
I don't see. He is not to be supposed to know it's hopeless.
Poor fellow ! He is to be pitied, /think ! "
Having made these reliections, Mrs. Nickleby looked in
her little dressing-glass, and walking backward a few steps
from it, tried to remember who it was who used to say that
when Nicholas was one-and-twenty he would have more the
appearance of her brother, than her son. Not being able to
call the authority to mind, she extinguished her candle, and
drew up the window-blind to admit the light of morning, which
had, by this time, began to dawn.
" It's a bad light to distinguish objects in," murmured
Mrs. Nickleby, peering into the garden, and my eyes are not
very good — I was short-sighted from a child — but, upon my
word, I think there's another large vegetable marrow sticking,
at this moment, on the broken glass bottles at the top of the
wall ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 483
CHAPTER XXXVIIT.
COMPRISES CERTAIN PARTICULARS ARISING OUT OF A VISIT
OF CONDOLENCE, WHICH MAY PROVE IMPORTANT HERE-
AFTER. SMIKE UNEXPECTEDLY ENCOUNTERS A VERY OLD
FRIEND, WHO INVITES HIM TO HIS HOUSE, AND WILL TAKE
NO DENIAL.
Quite unconscious of the demonstrations of their amorous
neighbor, or of their effects upon the susceptible bosom of her
mama, Kate Nicl<leby had, by this time, begun to enjoy a
settled feeling of tranquillity and happiness,to which, even in oc-
casional and transitory glimpses, she had long been a stranger.
Living under the same roof with the beloved brother from
whom she had been so suddenly and hardly separated,
with a mind at ease and free from any persecutions which
could call a blush into her cheek or a pang into her heart, she
seemed to have passed into a new state of being. Her former
cheerfulness was restored, her step regained its elasticity and
lightness, the color which had forsaken her cheek visited it
once again, and Kate Nickleby looked more beautiful than
ever.
Such was the result to which Miss La Creevy's rumina-
tions and observations led her, when the cottage had been, as
she emphatically said, " thoroughly got to rights, from the
chimney-pots to the street-door scraper," and the busy little
woman had at length a moment's time to think about its in-
mates.
" Which I declare I haven't had since I first came down
here," said Miss La Creevy ; "for 1 have thought of nothing
but hammers, nails, screw-drivers, and gimlets, morning, noon,
and night."
" You never bestow one thought upon yourself, I believe,"
returned Kate, smiling.
" Upon my word, my dear, when there are so many pleas-
anter things to think of, I should be a goose if I did," said Miss
La Creevy. " By the bye, I Iiavc thought of somebody too. Uo
you know, that I observe a great change in one of this family
— a very extraordinary change ? "
" In whom ? " asked Kate, anxiously. " Not in — "
484 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" Not in your brother, my dear," returned Miss La Creevy,
anticipating the close of tlie sentence, " for he is always the
same aifectionate good-natured clever creature, with a spice of
the — -I won't say who — in him when there's any occasion, that
he was when I first knew you. No. Smike, as he w/// be
called, poor fellow ! for he won't hear of a Mr. before his
name, is greatly altered, even in this short time.
" How ? " asked Kate. " Not in health .? "
"N-n-o; perhaps not in health exactly," said Miss La
Creevy, pausing to consider, " although he is a worn and fee-
ble creature, and has that in his face which it would wring my
heart to see in yours. No ; not in health."
" How then ? "
" I scarcely know," said the miniature-painter. " But I
have watched him, and he has brought the tears into my eyes
many times. It is not a very difficult matter to do that, cer-
tainly, for I am easily melted ; still I think these came with
good cause and reason. I am sure that since he has been
here, he has grown, for some strong cause, more conscious of
his weak intellect. He feels it more. It gives him greater
pain to know that he wanders sometimes, and cannot under-
stand very simple things. I ha\-e watched him when you have
not been by, my dear, sit brooding by himself, with such a
look of pain as I could scarcely bear to see, and then get up
and leave the room ; so sorrowfully, and in such dejection,
that I cannot tell you how it has hurt me. Not three weeks
ago, he was a light-hearted busy creature, overjoyed to be in
a bustle, and as happy as the day was long. Now, he is
another being — the same willing, harmless, faithful, loving
creature — but the same in nothing else."
" Surely this will all pass off," said Kate. " Poor fellow ! "
" I hope," returned her little friend, with a gravity very
unusual in her, " it may. I hope, for the sake of that poor lad,
it may. However," said Miss La Creevy, relapsing into the
cheerful, chattering tone, which was habitual to her, " I have
said my say, and a very long say it is, and a very wrong say
too, I shouldn't wonder at all. I shall cheer him up to-night,
at all events, for if he is to be my squire all the way to the
Strand, I shall talk on, and on, and on, and ne\-er leave off,
till I have roused him into a laugh at something. So the
sooner he goes the better for him, and the sooner I go, the
better for me, I am sure, or else I shall have my maid galli-
vanting with somebody who may rob the house — though what
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 485
there is to take away, besides tables, and chairs, I don't
know, except the miniatures : and he is a clever thief who
can dispose of them to any great advantage, for / can't, 1
know, and that's the honest truth."
So saying, little Miss La Creevy hid her face in a verj' flat
bonnet and herself in a very big shawl ; and fixing herself
tightly into the latter, by means of a large pin, declared that
the omnibus might come as soon as it pleased, for she was
quite ready.
But there was still Mrs. Nickleby to take leave of ; and
long before that good lady had concluded some reminiscences,
bearing upon, and appropriate to, the occasion, the omnibus
arrived. This put Miss La Creevy in a great bustle, in con-
sequence whereof, as she secretly rewarded the servant-girl
with eighteen-pence behind the street-door, she pulled out of
her reticule ten-pennyworth of halfpence, which rolled into all
possible corners of the passage, and occupied some consider-
able time in the picking-up. This ceremony, had, of course,
to be succeeded by a second kissing of Kate and Mrs. Nick-
leby, and a gathering together of the little basket and the
brown-paper parcel, during which proceedings, " the omni-
bus," as Miss La Creevy protested, " swore so dreadfully, that
it was quite awful to hear it." At length, and at last, it made
a feint of going away, and when Miss La Creevy darted out
and darted in, apologizing with great volubility to all the pas-
sengers, and declaring that she wouldn't purposely have kept
them waiting on any account whatever. While she was look-
ing about for a convenient seat, the conductor pushed Smike
in, and cried that it was all right — though it wasn't — and away
went the huge vehicle, with the noise of half a dozen brewers'
drays at least.
Leaving it to pursue its journey at the pleasure of the
conductor aforementioned, who lounged gracefully on his little
shelf behind, smoking an odoriferous cigar ; and leaving it to
stop, or go on, or gallop, or crawl, as that gendeman deemed
expedient and advisable ; this narrative may embrace the oj)-
portunity of ascertaining the condition of Sir Mulberry Hawk,
and to what extent, he had, by this time, recovered from the
injuries consequent on being flung violently from his cabriolet,
under the circumstances already detailed.
With a shattered limb, a body severely bruised, a face dis-
figured by half-healed scars, and pallid from the exhaustion of
recent pain and fever, Sir Mulberry Hawk lay stretched upon
486 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
his back, on the couch to which he was doomed to be a
prisoner for some weeks yet to come. Mr. Pyke and Mr.
Pluck sat drinking hard in the next room, now and then vary-
ing the monotonous murmurs of their conversation with a
half-smothered laugh, while the young lord — the only member
of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable, and who
really had a kind heart — sat beside his Mentor, with a cigar
in his mouth, and read to him, by the light of a lamp, such
scraps of intelligence from a paper of the day, as were most
Hkely to yield him interest or amusement.
" Curse those hounds ! " said the invalid, turning his head
impatiently towards the adjoining room ; " will nothing stop
their infernal throats ? "
Messrs. Pyke and Pluck heard the exclamation, and
stopped immediately, winking to each other as they did so,
and filling their glasses to the brim, as some recompense for
the deprivation of speech.
" Damn ! " muttered the sick man between his teeth, and
writhing impatiently in his bed. " Isn't this mattress hard
enough, and the room dull enough, and pain bad enough, but
they must torture me ? What's the time ? "
" Half-past eight," replied his friend.
" Here, draw the table nearer, and let us have the cards
again," said Sir Mulberry. " More piquet. Come."
It was curious to see how eagerly the sick man, debarred
from any change of position save the mere turning of his head
from side to side, watched every motion of his friend in the
progress of the game ; and with what eagerness and interest
he played, and yet how warily and cooll)'. His address and
skill were more than twenty times a match for his adversary,
who could make little head against them, even when fortune
favored him with good cards, which was not often the case.
Sir Mulberry won every game ; and when his companion threw
down the cards, and refused to play any longer, thrust forth
his wasted arm and caught up the stakes with a boastful oath,
and the same hoarse laugh, though considerably lowered in
tone, that had resounded in Ralph Nickleby's dining-room,
months before.
While he was thus occupied, his man appeared, to an-
nounce that Mr. Ralph Nickleby was below, and wished to
know how he was to-night.
" Better," said Sir Mulberry, impatiently.
" Mr. Nickleby wishes to know, sir "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 487
" I tell you, better," replied Sir Mulberry, striking his hand
upon the table.
The man hesitated for a moment or two, and then said
that Mr. Nickleby had requested permision to see Sir Mul-
berry Hawk, if it was not inconvenient.
" It is inconvenient. I can't see him. I can't see any-
body," said his master, more violently than before. "You
know that, you blockhead."
" I am very sorry, sir," returned the man. " But Mr.
Nickleby pressed so much, sir "
The fact was, that Ralph Nickleby had bribed the man,
who, being anxious to earn his money with a view to future
favors, held the door in his hand, and ventured to linger still.
" Did he say whether he had any business to speak
about .' " inquired Sir Mulberry, after a little impatient con-
sideration.
" No, sir. He said he wished to see you, sir. Particularly
Mr, Nickleby said, sir."
" 'J ell him to come up. Here ! " cried Sir Mulberr}-, call-
ing the man back, as he passed his hand over his disfigured
face, " move that lamp, and put it on the stand behind me.
Wheel that table away, and place a chair there — further off.
Leave it so."
The man obeyed these directions as if he quite compre-
hended the motive with which they were dictated, and left the
room. Lord Frederick Verisopht, remarking that he would
look in presently, strolled into the adjoining apartment, and
closed the folding-door behind him.
Then was heard a subdued footstep on the stairs ; and
Ralph Nickleby, hat in hand, crept softly into the room, with
his body bent forward as if in profound respect, and his eyes
fixed upon the face of his worthy client.
"Well, Nickleby," said Sir Mulberry, motioning him to
the chair by the couch side, and waving his hand in assumed
carelessness, "I have had a bad accident, you see."
" I see," rejoined Ralph, with the same steady gaze. " Bad,
indeed ! I should not ha\e known you. Sir Mulberr)-. Dear,
dear! That /V bad."
Ralph's manner was one of profound humility and respect,
and his low tone of voice was that which the g-entlest consid-
eration for a sick man would have taught a visitor to assume.
But the expression of his face. Sir Mulbern,^'s being averted,
was in extraordinar}' contrast. And as he stood, in his usual
488 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
attitude, calmly looking on the prostrate form before him, all
that part of his features which was not cast into shadow by
his protrliding and contracted brows, bore the impress of a
sarcastic smile.
" Sit down," said Sir Mulberry, turning towards him, as
though by a violent effort. " Am I a sight, that you stand
gazing there ? "
As he turned his face, Ralph recoiled a step or two, and
making as though he were irresistibly impelled to express
astonishment, but was determined not to do so, sat down with
well-acted confusion.
" I have inquired at the door, Sir Mulberry, every day,"
said Ralph, " twice a day, indeed, at first — and to-night, pre-
suming upon old acquaintance, and past transactions by which
we have mutually benefited in some degree, I could not re-
sist soliciting admission to your chamber. Have you — have
you suffered much ? " said Ralph, bending forward, and
allowing the same harsh smile to gather upon his face, as the
other closed his eyes.
*' More than enough to please me, and less than enough
to please some broken down hacks that you and I know of,
and who lay their ruin between us, I dare say," returned Sir
Mulberry, tossing his arm restlessly upon the coverlet.-
Ralph shrugged his shoulders m deprecation of the in-
tense irritation with which this had been said ; for there was
an aggravating, cold distinctness in his speech and manner
which so grated on the sick man that he could scarcely en-
dure it.
"And what is it in these ' past transactions,' that brought
you here to-night ? '~ asked Sir Mulberry.
" Nothing," replied Ralph. " There are some bills of my
lord's which need renewal ; but let them be, till you are well.
I — I — came," said Ralph, speaking more slowly, and with
harsher emphasis, " I came to say how grieved I am that any
relative of mine, although disowned by me, should have in-
flicted such punishment on you as "
" Punishment ! " interposed Sir Mulberry.
" I know it has been a severe one," said Ralph, wilfully
mistaking the meaning of the interruption, "and that has
made me the more anxious to tell you that I disown this vaga-
bond— that I acknowledge him as no kin of mine — and that
I leave him to take his deserts from you, and every man be-
sides. You may wring his neck if you please, /shall not
interfere."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 489
" This story that they tell me here, has got abroad then, has
it ? " asked Sir Mulberry, clenching his hands and teeth.
" Noised in all directions," replied Ralph. " Eveiy club
and gaming-room has rung with it. There has been a good
song made about it, as I am told," said Ralph, looking eagerly
at his questioner. " I have not heard it myself, not being in
the way of such things, but I have been told it's even printed
— for private circulation — but that's all over town, of course."
'• It's a lie ! " said Sir Mulberry ; "I tell you it's all a lie.
The mare took fright."
" They say he frightened her," observed Ralph, in the
same unmoved and quiet manner. " Some say he frightened
you, but thafs a lie, I know. I have said that boldly — oh, a
score of times ! I am a peaceable man, but I can't hear folks
tell that of you. No, no.".
When Sir Mulberry found coherent words to utter, Ralph
bent forward with his head to his ear, and a face as calm as
if its every line of sternness had been cast in iron.
" When I am off this cursed bed," said the invalid, actu-
ally striking at his broken leg in the ecstasy of his passion,
" I'll have such revenge as never man had yet. By G — I
will ! Accident favoring him, he has marked me for a week
or two,- but I'll put a mark on him that he shall carry to his
grave. I'll slit his nose and ears, flog him, maim him for
life. I'll do more than that; I'll drag that pattern of chas-
tity, that pink of prudery, his delicate sister, through "
It might have been that even Ralph's cold blood tingled
in his cheeks at that moment. It might have been that Sir
Mulberry remembered, that, knave and usurer as he was,
he must, in some early time of infancy, have twined his arm
about her father's neck. He stopped, and, menacing with his
hand, confirmed the unuttered threat with a tremendous oath.
" It is a galling thing," said Ralph, after a short term of
silence, during which he had eyed the sufferer keenly, " to
think that the man about town, the rake, the roue, the rook of
twenty seasons, should be brought to this pass by a mere
boy ! "
Sir Mulberry darted a wrathful look at him, but Ralph's
eyes were bent upon the ground, and his face wore no other
expression than one of thoughtfulness.
" A raw, slight stripling," continued Ralph, " against a
man whose very weight might crush him ; to say nothing of
his skill in — I am right, I think," said Ralph, raising his eyes :
"you were a patron of the ring once, were you not 1 "
^go NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The sick man made an impatient gesture, which Ralph
chose to consider as one of acquiescence.
" Ha ! " he said, " I thought so. That was before I knew
you, but I was pretty sure I couldn't be mistaken. He is
light and active, I suppose. But those were slight advantages
compared with yours. Luck, luck ! These hangdog outcasts
have it."
" He'll need the most he has, when I am well again," said
Sir Mulberry Hawk, " let him fly where he will."
" Oh ! " returned Ralph quickly, " he doesn't dream of
that. He is here, good sir, waiting your pleasure, here in
London, walking the streets at noonday, carrying it off jaun-
tily, looking for you, I swear," said Ralph, his face darkening,
and his own hatred getting the upper hand of him, for the
first time, as this gay picture of Nicholas presented itself ;
" if we were only citizens of a country where it could be
safely done, I'd give good money to have him stabbed to the
heart and rolled into the kennel for the dogs to tear."
As Ralph, somewhat to the surprise of his old client,
vented tins little piece of sound family Jggling, and took up
his hat preparatory to departing. Lord Fredrick Verisopht
looked in.
" Why what in the dayvle's name. Hawk, have you «and
Nickleby been talking about ? " said the young man. " I
neyver heard such an insufferable riot. Croak, croak, croak.
Bow, wow, wovi'. What has it all been about ? "
" Sir Mulberry has been angry, my Lord," said Ralph,
looking towards the couch.
" Not about money, I hope ? Nothing has gone wrong in
business, has it, Nickleby ? "
" No, my Lord, no," returned Ralph. " On that point we
always agree. Sir Mulberry has been calling to mind the
cause of "
There was neither necessity nor opportunity for Ralph to
proceed ; for Sir Mulberry took up the theme, and vented his
threats and oaths against Nicholas, almost as ferociously as
before.
Ralph, who was no common observer, was surprised to
see that as this tirade proceeded, the manner of Lord Freder-
ick Verisopht, who at the commencement had been twirling
his whiskers with a most dandified and listless air, underwent
a complete alteration. He was still more surprised when,
Sir Mulberry ceasing to speak, the young lord angrily, and
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 491
almost unaffectedly, requested never to have the subject re-
newed in his presence.
" Mind that, Hawk ! " he added, with unusual energy. " I
never will be a party to, or permit, if 1 can help it, a cowardly
attack upon this young fellow."
" Cowardly ! " interrupted his friend.
" Yees," said the other, turning full upon him. " If you
had told him who you were ; if you had given him your card,
and found out. afterwards, that his station or character pre-
vented your fighting him, it would have been bad enough then ;
upon my soul it would have been bad enough then. As it is,
you did wrong. I did wrong too, not to interfere, and I am
sorry for it. "What happened to you afterwards, was as much
the consequence of accident as design, and more your fault
than his ; and it shall not, with my knowledge, be cruelly
visited upon him, it shall not indeed."
With this emphatic repetition of his concluding words, the
young lord turned upon his heel • but before he had reached
the adjoining room he turned back again, and said, with even
greater vehemence than he had displayed before,
" I do believe, now ; upon my honor I do believe, that the
sister is as virtuous and modest a young lady as she is a hand-
some one ; and of the brother, I say this, that he acted as her
brother should, and in a manly and spirited manner. And I
only wish, with all my heart and soul, that anyone of us came
out of this matter half as well as he does."
So saying, Lord Frederick Verisopht walked out of the
room, leaving Ralph Nickleby and Sir Mulberry in most un-
pleasant astonishment.
" Is this your pupil ? " asked Ralph, softly, " or has he
come fresh from some country parson ? "
" Green fools take these fits sometimes," replied Sir Mul-
berry Hawk, biting his lip, and pointing to the door. " Leave
him to me."
Ralph exchanged a familiar look with his old acquaintance ;
for they had suddenly grown confidential again in this alarm-
ing surprise ; and took his way home, thoughtfully and slowly.
While these things were being said and done, and long
before they were concluded, the omnibus had disgorged Miss
La Creevy and her escort, and they had arrived at her own
door. Now, the good-nature of the little miniature-painter
would bv no means allow of Smike's walking back again, until
he had been previously refreshed with just a sip of something
V
^g2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
comfortable, and a mixed biscuit or so \ and Smilce, enter-
taining no objection either to the sip of something comfort-
able, or the mixed biscuit, but, considering on the contrary
that they would be a very pleasant preparation for a walk to
Bow, it "fell out that he delayed much longer than he originally
intended, and that it was some half hour after dusk when he
set forth on his journey home.
There was no likelihood of his losing his way, for it lay
quite straight before him, and he had walked into town with
Nicholas, and back alone, almost every day. So, Miss La
Creevy and he shook hands with mutual confidence, and, being
charged with more kind remembrances to Mrs. and Miss
Nickleby, Smike started off.
At the foot of Ludgate Hill, he turned a little out of the
road to satisfy his curiosity by having a look at Newgate.
After staring up at the sombre walls, from the opposite side
of the way, with great care and dread for some minutes, he
turned back again into the old track, and walked briskly
through the city ; stopping now and then to gaze in at the
window of some particularly attractive shop, then running for
a little way, then stopping again, and so on, as any other
country lad might do.
He had been gazing for a long time through a jeweller's
window, wishing he could take some of the beautiful trinkets
home as a present, and imagining what delight they would afford
if he could, when the clocks struck three-quarters past eight ;
roused by the sound, he hurried on at a very quick pace, and
was crossing the corner of a by-street when he felt himself
violently brought to, with a jerk so sudden that he was obliged
to cling' to a lamp-post to save himself from falling. At the
same moment, a small boy clung tight round his leg, and a shrill
cry. of " Here he is, father ! Hooray ! " vibrated in his ears.
Smike knew that voice too well. He cast his despairing
eyes downward towards the form from which it had proceeded,
and, shuddering from head to foot, looked round. Mr.
Squeers had hooked him in the coat-collar with the handle of
his umbrella, and was hanging on at the other end with all his
might and main. The cry of triumph proceeded from Master
Wackford, who, regardless of all his kicks and struggles,
clung to him witJi the tenacity of a bull-dog !
One glance showed him this ; and in that one glance the
terrified creature became utterly powerless and unable to utter
a sound.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 4^3
"Here's a go!" cried Mr. Squeers, gradually coming
hand-over-hand down the umbrella, and only unhooking it
when he had got tight hold of the victim's collar. " Here's a
delicious go ! Wackford, my boy, call up one of them coaches."
" A coach, father ! " cried little Wackford.
" Yes, a coach, sir," replied Squeers, feasting his eyes
upon the countenance of Smike. " Damn the expense. Let's
have him in a coach."
" What's he been a doing of ? " asked a laborer with a hod
of bricks, against whom and a fellow-laborer Mr. Squeers had
backed, on the first jerk of the umbrella.
" Everything ! " replied Mr. Squeers, looking fixedly at
his old pupil in a sort of rapturous trance. " Everything —
running away, sir — joining in bloodthirsty attacks upon his
master — there's nothing that's bad that he hasn't done. Oh,
what a delicious go is this here, good Lord ! "
The man looked from Squeers to Smike ; but such mental
faculties as the poor fellow possessed, had utterly deserted
him. The coach came up. Master Wackford entered, Squeers
pushed in his prize, and, following close at his heels, pulled
up the glasses. The coachman mounted his box and drove
slowly off, leaving the two bricklayers, and an old apple-
woman, and a town-made little boy returning from an evening
school, who had been the only witnesses of the scene, to
meditate upon it at their leisure.
Mr. Squeers sat himself down on the opposite seat to the
unfortunate Smike, and, planting his hands firmly on his
knees, looked at him for some five minutes, when, seeming to
recover from his trance, he uttered a loud laugh, and slapped
his old pupil's face several times — taking the right and left
sides alternately.
" It isn't a dream ! " said Squeers. " That's real flesh
and blood ! I know the feel of it ! " And being quite assured
of his good fortune by these experiments, Mr. Squeers admin-
istered a few boxes on the ear, lest the entertainments should
seem to partake of sameness, and laughed louder and longer
at every one.
" Your mother will be fit to jump out of her skin, my boy,
when she hears of this," said Squeers to his son.
" Oh, won't she though, father } " replied Master Wack-
ford.
" To think," said Squeers, "that you and me should be
turning out of a street, and come upon him at the very nick ,•
4^4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
and that I should have hun tight, at only one cast of the um-
brella, as if I had hooked him with a grappling-iron ! Ha,
ha!"
" Didn't I catch hold of his leg, neither, father ? " said lit-
tle Wackford.
" You did ; like a good 'un, my boy," said Mr. Squeers,
patting his son's head, " and you shall have the best button-
over jacket and waistcoat that the next new boy brings down,
as a reward of merit. Mind that. You always keep on in
the same path, and do them things that you see your father
do, and when you die you'll go right slap to Heaven and no
questions asked."
Improving the occasion in these words, Mr. Squeers patted
his son's head again, and then patted Smike's — but harder \
and inquired in a bantering tone how he found himself by this
time ?
" I must go home," replied Smike, looking wildly round.
" To be sure you must. You're about right there," replied
Mr. Squeers. " You'll go home very soon, you will. You'll
find yourself at the peaceful village of Dotheboys, in York-
shire, in something under a week's time, my young friend ;
and the next time you get away from there, I give you leave
to keep away. Where's the clothes you run off in, you un-
grateful robber ? " said Mr. Squeers, in a severe voice.
Smike glanced at the neat attire which the care of Nich-
olas had provided for him, and wrung his hands.
" Do you know that I could hang you up, outside of the
Old Bailey, for making away with them articles of property t "
said Squeers. " Do you know that it's a hanging matter—
and I an't quite certain whether it an't an anatomy one besides
— to walk off with up'ards of the valley of five pound from a
dwelling-house ? Eh ? Do you know that ? What do you
suppose was the worth of them clothes you had ? Do you
know that that Wellington-boot you wore, cost eight-and-
tweuty shillings when it was a pair, and the shoe seven-and-
six ? But you came to the right shop for mercy when you
came to me, and thank your stars that it is me as has got to
serve you with the article."
Anybody not in Mr. Squeers's confidence, would have
supposed that he was quite out of the article in question, in-
stead of having a large stock on hand ready for all comers ;
nor would the opinion of skeptical persons have underp-one
much alteration when he followed up the remark by poking
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
495
Smike in the chest with the ferrule of liis umbrella, and deal-
ing a smart shower of blows, with the ribs of the same instru-
ment, upon his head and shoulders.
" I never threshed a boy in a hackney-coach before," said
Mr. Squeers, when he stopped to rest. " There's inconve-
niency in it, but the novelty gives it a sort of relish, too ! "
Poor Smike ! He warded off the blows, as well as he
could, and now shrunk into a corner of the coach, with his
head resting on his hands, and his elbows on his knees ; he
was stunned and stupefied, and had no more idea that any
act of his would enable him to escape from the all-powerful
Squeers, now that he had no friend to speak to or to advise
with, than he had had in all the weary years of his Yorkshire
life which preceded the arrival of Nicholas.
The journey seemed endless ; street after street was en-
tered and left behind ; and still they went jolting on. At last
]\Ir. Squeers began to thrust his head out of the window every
half-minute, and to bawl a variety of directions to the coach-
man ; and after passing, with some ditificulty, through several
mean streets which the appearance of the houses and the bad
state of the road denoted to have been recently built, Mr.
Squeers suddenly tugged at the check string with all his
might, and cried, " Stop ! "
" What are you pulling a man's arm off for?" said the
coachman, looking angrily down.
" That's the house," replied Squeers. " The second of
them four little houses, one story high, with the green shutters.
There's a brass plate on the door, with the name of Snawley."
" Couldn't you say that, without wrenching a man's limbs
off his body .'' " inquired the coachman.
"No!" bawled Mr. Squeers. "Say another word, and
I'll summons you for having a broken winder. Stop ! "
Obedient to this direction, the coach stopped at Mr. Snaw-
ley's door. Mr. Snawley may be remembered as the sleek
and sanctified gentleman who confided two sons (in law) to
the parental care of Mr. Squeers, as narrated in the fourth
chapter of this histor}'. Mr. Snawley's house was on the ex-
treme borders of some new settlements adjoining Somers
Town, and Mr. Squeers had taken lodging therein for a short
time, as his stay was longer than usual, and as the Saracen,
having experience of Master Wackford's appetite, had de-
clined to receive him on any other terms than as a full-grown
customer.
^gC NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Here we are ! " said Squeers, hurrying Smike into the
little parlor, where Mr. Snawley and his wife were taking a
lobster supper. " Here's the vagrant — the felon — the rebel —
the monster of unthankfulness."
" What ! The boy that run away ! " cried Snawley, resting
his knife and fork upright on the table, and opening his eyes
to their full width.
" The very boy," said Squeers, putting his fist close to
Smike's nose, and drawing it away again, and repeating
the process several times, with a vicious aspect. " If there
wasn't a lady present, I'd fetch him such a : never mind,
I'll owe it him."
And here Mr. Squeers related how, and in what manner,
and when and where, he had picked up the runaway.
" It's clear that there has been a providence in it, sir,"
said Mr. Snawley, casting down his eyes with an air of humility,
and elevating his fork, with a bit of lobster on the top of it,
towards the ceiling.
" Providence is again him, no doubt," replied Mr. Squeers,
scratching his nose. " Of course ; that was to be expected.
Anybody might have known that."
" Hard-heartedness and evil-doing will never prosper, sir,"
said Mr. Snawley.
" Never was such a thing known," rejoined Squeers, taking
a little roll of notes from his pocket-book, to see that they
were all safe.
" I have been, Mrs. Snawley," said Mr. Squeers, when he
had satisfied himself upon this point, " I have been that chap's
benefactor, feeder, teacher, and clother. I have been that
chap's classical, commercial, mathematical, philosophical, and
trigonomical friend. My son — my only son, Wackford — has
been his brother. Mrs. Squeers has been his mother, grand-
mother, aunt, — Ah ! and I may say uncle too, all in one. She
never cottoned to anybody, except them two engaging and
delightful boys of yours, as she cottoned to this chap. What's
my return ? What's come of my milk of human kindness ? It
turns into curds and whey when I look at him."
"Well it may, sir," said Mrs. Snawley. "Oh! Well it
may, sir,"
" Where has he been all this time ? " inquired Snawley.
" Has he been living with ? "
" Ah, sir ! " interposed Squeers, confronting him again.
" Have you been a living with that there devilish Nickleby,
sir ? "
O NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 49 y
But no threats or cuffs could elicit from Smike one word
of reply to this question ; for he had internally resolved that
he would rather perish in the wretched prison to which he was
again about to be consigned, than utter one syllable which
could involve his first and true friend. He had already called
to mind the strict injunctions of secrecy as to his past life,
which Nicholas had laid upon him when they travelled from
Yorkshire ; and a confused and perplexed idea that his bene-
factor might have committed some terrible crime in bringing
him away, which would render him liable to heavy punish-
ment if detected, had contributed in some degree to reduce
him to his present state of apathy and terror.
Such were the thoughts — if to visions so imperfect and
undefined as those which wandered through his enfeebled
brain, the term can be applied — which were present to the
mind of Smike, and rendered him deaf alike to intimidation
and persuasion. Finding every effort useless, Mr. Squeers
conducted him to a little back room up stairs, where he was
to pass the night. Taking the precaution of removing his
shoes, and coat and waistcoat, and also of locking the door
on the outside, lest he should muster up sufficient energy to
make an attempt at escape, that worthy gentleman left him to
his meditations.
What those meditations were, and how the poor creature's
heart sank within him when he thought — when did he, for a
moment, cease to think !— of his late home, and the dear
friends and familiar faces with which it was associated, cannot
be told. To prepare the mind for such a heavy sleep, its
growth must be stopped by rigor and cruelty in childhood ;
there must be years of misery and suffering lightened by no
ray of hope ; the chords of the heart, which beat a quick re-
sponse to the voice of gentleness and affection, must have
rusted and broken in their secret places, and bear the linger-
ing echo of no old word of love or kindness. Gloomy, indeed,
must have been the short day, and dull the longHong'Twiright,
preceding such a niidit of intellect as his.
Tlicre were xoiees wliich would have roused him, even
then ; but their welcome tones could not penetrate there ; and
he crept to bed the same listless, hopeless, blighted creature,
that Nicholas had first found him at the Yorkshire school.
32
498 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
IN WHICH ANOTHER OLD FRIEND ENCOUNTERS SMIKE, VERY
OPPORTUNELY AND TO SOME PURPOSE.
The night, fraught with so much bitterness to one poor
soul, had given place to a bright and cloudless summer morn-
ing, when a north-country mail-coach traversed, with cheerful
noise, the yet silent streets of Islington, and giving brisk note
of its approach with the lively winding of the guard's horn,
clattered onward to its halting-place hard by the Post-office.
The only outside passenger was a burly, honest-looking
countryman on the box, who, with his e}-es fixed upon the
dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, appeared so wrapt in admiring
wonder, as to be quite insensible to all the bustle of getting
out the bags and parcels, until one of the coach windows be-
ing let sharply down, he looked round, and encountered a
pretty female face w-hich was just then thrust out.
" See there, lass ! " bawled the countryman, pointing to-
wards the object of his admiration. " There be Paul's Church.
'Ecod, he be a soizable 'un, he be."
" Goodness, John ! I shouldn't have thought it could
have been half the size. What a monster ! "
" Monsther ! — Ye're aboot right theer, I reckon, Mrs.
Browdie," said the countryman good-humoredly, as he came
slowly down in his huge top-coat, " and wa'at dost thee tak
yon place to be noo — thot 'un ower the wa'. Ye'd never coom
near it 'gin ye thried for a tvvolve moonths. It's na' but a
Poast-office ! Ho ! ho ! They need to charge for dooblc-
lattkers. A Poast-office ! Wa'at dost thee think o' thot ?
'Ecod, if thot's on'y a Poast-office, I'd loike to see where the
Lord Mayor o' Lunnun lives."
So saying, John Ilrowdie — for he it was — opened the coach-
door, and tapping Mrs. Browdie, late Miss Price, on the cheek
as he looked in, burst into a boisterous fit of laughter.
" Weel ! " said John. "Dang my bootuns if she bean't
asleep agean ! "
" She's been asleep all night, and was, all yesterday, ex-
cept for a minute or two now and then," replied John Brow-
NICHOLAS A'rCKLEBY. 4^^
die's choice, " and I was very sorry when she woke, for she
has been so cross."
The subject of these remarks was a slumbering figure, so
mufifled in shawl and cloak, that it would have been matter of
impossibility to guess at its sex but for a brown-beaver bonnet
and green veil which ornamented the head, and which, having
been crushed and flattened for two hundred and fifty miles in
that particular angle of the vehicle from which the lady's
snores now proceeded, presented an appearance sufficiently
ludicrous to have moved less risible muscles than those of
John Browdie's ruddy face.
" Hollo ! " cried John, twitching one end of the dragged
veil. " Coom, wakken oop, will 'ee."
After several burrowings into the old corner, and many ex-
clamations of impatience and fatigue, the figure struggled into
a sitting posture ; and there, under a mass of crumpled beaver,
and surrounded by a semicircle of blue curl-papers, were the
delicate features of Miss Fanny Squeers.
" Oh, 'Tilda ! " cried Miss Squeers, " How you have been
kicking of me through this blessed night ! "
" Well, 1 do like that," replied her friend, laughing,
" when you have had nearly the whole coach to yourself."
" Don't deny it, 'Tilda," said Miss Squeers, impressively,
" because you have, and it's no use to go attempting to say
you haven't. You mightn't ha\'e known it in your sleep,
'Tilda, but I haven't closed my eyes for a single wink, and so
I think I am to be believed."
With which reply, Miss Squeers adjusted the bonnet and
veil, which nothing but supernatural interference and an utter
suspension of nature's laws could have reduced to any shape
or form ; and evidently flattering herself that it looked un-
commonly tieat, brushed off the sandwich-crumbs and bits of
biscuit which had accumulated in her lap, and availing herself
of John Browdie's proffered arm, descended from the coach.
" Noo," said John, when a hackney-coach had been called
and the ladies and the luggage hurried in, " gang to the
Sarah's Head, mun."
" To the vercV cried the coachman.
" Lawk, Mr. Browdie ! " interrupted Miss Squeers. " The
idea ! Saracen's Head."
" Sure-ly," said John, "I know'd it was something aboot
Sarah's Son's Head. Dost thou know thot .'' "
"Oh, ah! I know that," replied the coachman gruffly,, as
he banc:ed the door.
500
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" 'Tilda, dear, really," remonstrated Miss Squeers, " we
shall be taken for I don't know what."
" Let them tak' us as they foind us," said John Browdie ;
" we dean't come to Lunnun to do nought but 'joy oursel, do
we?"
" I hope not, Mr. Browdie," replied Miss Squeers, looking
singularly dismal.
"Well, then," said John, "it's no matther. I've only
been a married man fower days, 'account of poor old feyther
deein' and puttin' it off. Here be a weddin' party — broide
and broide'smaid, and the groom — if a mun dean't 'joy himself
noo, when ought he, hey ? Drat it all, tliot's what I want to
know."
So, in order that he might begin to enjoy himself at once,
and lose no time, Mr. Browdie gave his wife a hearty kiss,
and succeeded in wresting another from Miss Squeers, after a
maidenly resistance of scratching and struggling on the part
of that young lady, which was not quite over when they reached
the Saracen's Head.
Here the party straightway retired to rest ; the refreshment
of sleep being necessary after so long a journey ; and here
they met again about noon, to a substantial breakfast, spread
by direction of Mr. John Browdie, in a small private room up
stairs commanding an uninterrupted view of the stables.
To have seen Miss Squeers now, divested of the brown
beaver, the green veil, and the blue curl-papers, and arrayed
in all the virgin splendor of a white frock and spencer, with a
white muslin bonnet, and an imitative damask rose in full
bloom on the inside thereof — her luxuriant crop of hair ar-
ranged in curls so tight that it was impossible they could come
out by any accident, and her bonnet-cap trimmed with little dam-
ask roses, which might be supposed to be so many promising
scions of the big rose — to have seen all this, and to have seen
the broad damask belt, matching both the family rose and
the little roses, which encircled her slender waist, and by a
happy ingenuity took off from the shortness of the spencer be-
hind,— to have beheld all this, and to have taken further into
account the coral bracelets (rather short of beads, and w^ith a
very visible black string) which clasped her wrists, and the
coral necklace which rested on her neck, supporting, outside
her frock a lonely cornelian heart, typical of her own disen-
gaged affections — to have contemplated all these mute but ex-
pressive appeals to the purest feelings of our nature, might
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. eoi
have thawed the frost of a^e, and added new and inextinguish-
able fuel to the fire of youth.
The waiter was touched. Waiter as he was, he had human
passions and feelings, and he looked very hard at Miss Squeers
as he handed the muffins.
" Is my pa in, do you know 1 " asked Miss Squeers with
dignity.
" Beg your pardon. Miss.' "
" My pa," repeated Miss Squeers ; " is. he in .? "
" In where. Miss ?"
" In here — in the house ! " replied Miss Squeers. " My
pa — Mr. Wackford Squeers — he's stopping here. Is he at
home ? "
" I didn't know there was any gen'l'man of that name in
the house Miss," replied the waiter. "There maybe in the
coffee-room."
A/ajy be. Very pretty this, indeed ! Here was Miss
Squeers, who had been depending, all the way to London,
upon showing her friends how much at home she would be,
and how much respectful notice her name and connections
would e.xcite, told that her father tnight be there ! " As if he
was a feller ! " observed Miss Squeers, with emphatic indig-
nation.
" Ye'd betther inquire mun," said John Browdie. " An'
bond up another pigeon-pie, will 'ee ? "Dang the chap," mut-
tered John, looking into the empty dish as the waiter retired;
" Does he ca' this a pie — three young pigeons and a troifling
matther o' steak, and a crust so loight that you doant know
when it's in your mooth and when it's gane ? I wonder hoo
many pies goes to a breakfast ! "
Altera short interval, which John Browdie employed upon
the ham and a cold round of beef, the waiter returned with
another pie, and the information that Mr. Squeers was not
stopping in the house, but that he came there every day, and
that when he arrived, he should be shown up stairs. With
this he retired ; and he had not retired two minutes, when he re-
turned with Mr. Squeers and his hopeful son.
" Why, who'd have thought of this .? " said Mr. Squeers,
when he had saluted the party, and received some private
family intelligence from his daughter.
" Who, indeed, pa ! " replied that young lady, spitefully,
"But you see 'Tilda is married at last."
" And I stond threat for a soight o' Lunnun, school*
rneasther," said John vigorously attacking the pie.
2 02 NICHOLAS NICKLEB \.
" One of them things that young men do when they ger
married," returned Squeers, " and as runs through with their
money like nothing at all ! How much better wouldn't it be
now, to save it up for the eddication of any little boys, for in-
stance. They come on you," said Mr. Squeers in a moral-
izing way, " Before you're aware of it ; mine did upon me."
" Will'ee pick a bit ? " said John.
" I won't myself," returned Squeers ; " but if you'll just
let little Wackford tuck into something fat, I'll be obliged to
you. Give it him in his fingers, else the waiter charges it on,
and there's lot of profit on this sort of vittles without that. If
you hear the waiter, coming, sir, shove it in your pocket and
look out of the window, d'ye hear ? "
" I'm awake, father," replied the dutiful Wackford.
" Well," said Squeers, turning to his daughter, " it's your
turn to be married next. You must make haste."
" Oh, I'm in no hurry," said Miss Squeers very sharply.
" No, Fanny ? " cried her old friend with some archness.
" No, 'Tilda, replied Miss Squeers, shaking her head vehe-
mently. " / can wait."
" So can the young men, it seems, Fanny," observed Mrs.
Browdie.
" They an't draw'd into it by 7tie, 'Tilda," retorted Miss
Squeers.
" No," returned her friend ; " That's exceedingly true."
The sarcastic tone of this reply might have provoked a
rather acrimonious retort from Miss Squeers, who, besides be-
ing of a constitutionally vicious temper — aggravated, just now,
by travel and recent jolting — was somewhat irritated by old
recollections and the failure of her own designs upon Mr.
Browdie. And the acrimonious retort might have led to a great
many other retorts, which might have led to Heaven knows
what, if the subject of conversation had not been, at that pre-
cise moment, accidentally changed by Mr. Squeers himself.
" What do you think ? " said that gentleman ; " who do you
suppose we have laid hands on, Wackford and me ? "
" Pa ! not Mr. .? " Miss Squeers was unable to finish
the sentence, but Mrs. Browdie did it for her, and added
"Nickleby?"
"No," said Squeers. "But next door to him though."
" You can't mean Smike ? " cried Miss Squeers, clapping
her hands.
"Yes, I can though, " rejoined her father. " I've got him,
hard and fast."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
503
" Wa'at ! '■' exclaimed John Browdie, pushing away his
plate. " Got that poor — dom'd scoondrel ? Where ? "
"Why, in the top back room, at my lodging," with him on
one side, and the key on the other."
" At thy loodgin' ! Thee'st gotten him at thy loddgin' ? Ho !
ho ! The schoolmeasther agin all England ! Give us thee hond
mun ; I'm darned but I must shak thee by the hond for thot.
— Gotten him at thy loodgin' ? "
" Yes," replied Squeers, staggering in his chair under the
congratulatory blow on the chest which the stout Yorkshire
man dealt him ; "thankee. Don't do it again. You mean it
kindly, I know, but it hurts rather. Yes, there he is. That's
not s"o bad, is it ? "
" Ba'ad ! " repeated John Browdie. " It's eneaf to scare a
mun to hear tell on."
" I thought it would surprise you a bit," said Squeers,
rubbing his hands. " It was pretty neatly done, and pretty
quick too."
" Hoo wor it ? " inquired John, sitting down close to him,
" Tell us all aboot it, mun ; coom, quick."
Although he could not keep pace with John Browdie's im-
patience, Mr. Squeers related the luck}^ chance by which Smike
had fallen into his hands, as quickly as he could, and, except
when he was interrupted by the admiring remarks of his audi-
tors, paused not in the recital until he had brought it to an
end.
" For fear he should give me the slip, by any chance," ob-
served Squeers, when he had finished, looking very cunning,
" I've taken three outsides for to-morrow morning — for Wack-
ford and him and me — and have arranged to leave the ac-
counts and the new boys to the agent, don't you see ? So, it's
very lucky you came to-day, or you'd have missed us ; as it is,
unless you could come and tea with me to-night, we shan't
see anything more of you before we go away."
" Dean't say anoother wurd," returned the Yorkshireman,
shaking him by the hand. " We'd coom, if it was twonty
mile."
" No, would you though ? " returned Mr. Squeers, who had
not expected quite such a ready acceptance of his invitation,
or he would have considered twice before he gave it.
John Browdie's only reply was another squeeze of the
hand, and an assurance that they w^ould not begin to see Lon-
don till to-morrow, so that they might be at Mr. Snawley's at
^ 04 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
six o'clock without fail. After some further conversation,
Mr. Squeers and his son departed.
During the remainder of the day, Mr. Browdie was in a
very odd and excitable state ; bursting occasionally into an
explosion of laughter, and then taking up his hat, and running
into the coach-yard to have it out by himself. He was very
restless too, constantly walking in and out, and snapping his
fingers, and dancing scraps of uncouth country dances, and,
in short, conducting himself in such a very extraordinary man-
ner, that Miss Squeers opined he was going mad, and, begging
her dear 'Tilda not to distress herself, communicated her sus-
picions in so many words. Mrs. Browdie, however, without
discovering any great alarm, observed that she had seen him
so, once before, and that although he was almost sure to be
ill after it, it would not be anything very serious, and there-
fore he was better left alone.
The result proved to be perfectly correct ; for, while they
were all sitting in Mr. Snawley's parlor that night, and just as
it was beginning to get dusk, John Browdie was taken so ill,
and seized with such an alarming dizziness in the head, that
the whole company were thrown into the utmost consternation.
His good lady, indeed, was the only person present who retained
presence of mind enough to observe that if he were allowed to
lie down on Mr. Squeers's bed for an hour or so, andwere
left entirely to himself, he would be sure to recover again al-
most as quickly as he had been taken ill. Nobody could
refuse to try the effect of so reasonable a proposal, before
sending for a surgeon. Accordingly, John was supported up
stairs, with great difficulty (being a monstrous weight, and reg-
ularly tumbling down two steps eveiy time they hoisted him
up three), and, being laid on the bed, was left in charge of
his wife, who after a short interval re-appeared in the parlor,
with the gratifying intelligence that he had fallen fast asleep.
Now, the fact was, that at that particular moment, John
Browdie was sitting on the bed, with the reddest face ever
seen, cramming the corner of the pillow into his mouth, to
prevent his roaring out loud with laughter. He had no sooner
succeeded in suppressing this emotion, than he slipped off his
shoes, and, creeping to the adjoining room where the prisoner
was confined, turned the key, which was on the outside, and
darting in, covered Smike's mouth with his huge hand before
he could utter a sound.
" Ods-bobs, dost thee not know me, mun .? " whispered the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB K 505
Yorkshireman to the bewildered lad. " Browdie. Chap as
met thee efther schoolmeasther was banged ? "
" Yes, yes," cried Smike. " Oh ! help me."
" Help thee ! " replied John, stopping his mouth again the
instant he had said thus much. " Thee didn't need help,^ if
thee warn't as silly yoongster as ever draw'd breath. Wa'at
did 'ee come here for, then ? "
" He brought me ; oh ! he brought me," cried Smike.
" Brout thee ! " replied John. " Why didn't 'ee punch his
head, or lay theeself doon and kick, and squeal out for the
pollis ? I'd ha' licked a doozen such as him when I was
yoong as thee. But thee be'est a poor broken-doon chap,"
said John, sadly, " and God forgi' me for bragging ower yan
o' his weakest creeturs ! "
Smike opened his mouth to speak, but John Browdie
stopped him.
" Stan' still," said the Yorkshireman, " and doant 'ee
speak a morsel o' talk till I tell 'ee."
With this caution, John Browdie shook his head signifi-
cantly, and, drawing a screwdriver from his pocket, took off
the box of the lock in a very deliberate and workmanlike
manner, and laid it, together with the implement, on the
floor.
" See thot ? " said John. " Thot be thy doin'. Noo, coot
awa' ! "
Smike looked vacantly at him, as if unable to comprehend
his meaning,
" I say, coot awa'," repeated John, hastily. " Dost thee
know where thee livest ? Thee dost ? Week Are yon thy
clothes, or schoolmeasther's ? "
" Mine," replied Smike, as the Yorkshireman hurried him
to the adjoining room, and pointed out a pair of shoes and a
coat which were lying on a chair.
" On wi' 'em ! " said John, forcing the wrong arm into the
wrong sleeve, and winding the tails of the coat round the fu-
gitive's neck. " Noo, foUer me, and when thee get'st ootside
door, turn to the right, and they wean't see thee pass."
''But — but — he'll hear me shut the door," replied Smike,
trembling from head to foot.
" Then dean't shut it at all," retorted John Browdie.
" Dang it, thee bean't afeard o' schoolmeasther's takkin cold,
I hope ? "
"N-no," said Smike, his teeth chattering in his head.
5o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" But he brought me back before, and will again. He will,
he will indeed."
" He vvuU, he wall ? " replied John, impatiently. " He
wean't, he wean't. Look'ee ! I wont to do this neighborly
loike, and let them think thee's gotten awa' o' theeself, but if
he cooms oot o' that parlor awhiles thee'rt clearing off, he
mun' have mercy on his oun bones, for I wean't. ' If he
foinds it oot, soon efther, I'll put 'un on a wrong scent, I war-
rant 'ee. But if thee keep'st a good hart, thee'il be at whoam
afore they know thee'st gotten off. Coom ! "
Smike, who comprehended just enough of this to know it
was intended as encouragement, prepared to follow with tot-
tering steps, when John whispered in his ear.
" Thee'lt just tell yoong Measther, that I'm sploiced to
'Tilly Price, and to be heerd on at the Saracen by latther, and
that I bean't jealous of 'un — dang it, I'm loike to boost when
I thick o' that neight ! 'C'od, I think I see 'un now, a pow-
derin' awa' at the tliin bread an' butther ! "
It was rather a ticklish recollection for John just then, for
he was within an ace of breaking out into a loud guffaw.
Restraining himself, however, just in time, by a great effort,
he glided down stairs, hauling Smike behind him ; then plac-
ing himself close to the parlor-door, to confront the first per-
son tliat might come out, he signed to Smike to make off.
Having got so far, Smike needed no second bidding.
Opening the house-door gently, and casting a look of mingled
gratitude and terror at his deliAcrer, he took the direction
which had been indicated to him, and sped away like the
wind.
The Yorkshireman remained on his post, for a few min-
utes, but finding that there was no pause in the conversation
inside, crept back again unheard, and stood listening over the
stair-rail for a full hour. Everything remaining perfectly quiet,
he got into Mr. Squeers's bed, once more, and drawing the
clothes over his head, laughed till he was nearly smothered.
If there could only have been somebody by, to see how
the bed-clothes shook, and to see the Yorkshireman's great
red face and round head appear above the sheets every now
and then, like some jovial monster coming to the surface to
breathe, and once more dive down convulsed with the laughter
which came bursting forth afresh — that somebody would have
been scarcely less amused than John Browdie himself.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
507
CHAPTER XL.
IN WHICH NICHOLAS FALLS IN LOVE. HE EMPLOYS A MEDI-
ATOR, WHOSE PROCEEDINGS ARE CROWNED WITH UNEX-
PECTED SUCCESS, EXCEPTING IN ONE SOLITARY PARTIC-
ULAR.
Once more out of the clutches of his old persecutor, it
needed no fresh stimulation to call forth the utmost energy
and exertion that Smike was capable of summoning to his aid.
Without pausing for a moment to reflect upon the course he
was taking, or the probability of its leading him homewards
or the reverse, he fled away with surprising swiftness and con-
stancy of purpose, borne upon such wings as only Fear can
wear, and impelled by imaginary shouts in the well-remem-
bered voice of Squeers, who, with a host of pursuers, seemed
to the poor fellow's disordered senses to press hard upon his
track ; now left at a greater distance in the rear, and now
gaining faster and faster upon him, as the alternations of hope
and terror agitated him by turns. Long after he had become
assured that these sounds were but the creation of his excited
brain, he still held on, at a pace, which even weakness and
exhaustion could scarcely retard. It was not until the dark-
ness and quiet of a country road, recalled him to his sense of
external ol)jects, and the starry sky, above, warned him of the
rapid flight of time, that, covered with dust and panting for
breath, he stopped to listen and look about him.
All was still and silent. A glare of light in the distance,
casting a warm glow upon the sky, marked where the huge
city lay. Solitary fields, divided by hedges and ditches,
through many of which he had crashed and scrambled in his
flight, skirted the road, both by the way he had come and
upon the opposite side. It was late now. They could
scarcely trace him by such paths as he had taken, and if he
could hope to regain his own dwelling, it must surely be at
such a time as that, and under cover of the darkness. This,
by degrees, became pretty plain, even to the mind of Smike.
He had, at first, entertained some vague and childish idea of
travelling into the country for ten or a dozen miles, and then
co8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
returning homewards, by a wide circuit, which should keep
him clear of London — so great was his apprehension of trav-
ersing the streets alone, lest he should again encounter his
dreaded enemy — but, yielding to the conviction which these
thoughts inspired, he turned back, and taking the open road,
though not without many fears and misgivings, made for Lon-
don again, with scarcely less speed of foot than that with
which he had left the temporary abode of Mr. Squeers.
By the time he re-entered it, at the western extremity, the
greater part of the shops were closed. Of the throngs of
people who had been tempted abroad after the heat of the
day, but few remained in the streets, and they were lounging
home. But of these he asked his way from time to time, and,
by dint of repeated inquiries, he at length reached the dwell-
ing of Newman Noggs.
All that evening, Newman had been hunting and searching
in b3'-ways and corners for the very person who now knocked
at his door, while Nicholas had been pursuing the same inquiry
in other directions. He was sitting, with a melancholy air, at
his poor supper, when Smike's timorous and uncertain knock
reached his ears. Alive to every sound, in his anxious and
expectant state, Newman hurried down stairs, and, uttering a
cry of joyful surprise, dragged the welcome visitor into the
passage and up the stairs, and said not a word until he had
him safe in his own garret and the door was shut behind them,
when he mixed a great mug-full of gin and water, and holding
it to Smike's mouth, as one might hold a bowl of medicine
to the lips of a refractory child, commanded him to drain it to
the last drop.
Newman looked uncommonly blank when he found that
Smike did little more than put his lips to the precious mixture ;
he was in the act of raising the mug to his own mouth witli a
deep sigh of compassion for his poor friend's weakness, when
Smike, beginning to relate the adventures which had befallen
him, arrested him half-way, and he stood listening, with the
mug in his hand.
It was odd enough to see the change that came over New-
man as Smil^e proceeded. At first he stood, rubbing his lips
with the back of his hand, as a preparatory ceremony towards
composing himself for a draught ; then, at the mention of
Squeers, he took the mug under his arm, and opening his
eyes very wide, looked on in the utmost astonishment. When
Smike came to the assault upon himself, in the hackney-coach,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 509
he hastily deposited the mug upon the table, and Umped
up and down the room in a state of the greatest excitement,
stopping himself with a jerk, every now and then, as if to
listen more attentively. When John Browdie came to be
spoken of, he dropped, by slow and gradual degrees, into a
chair, and rubbing his hands upon his knees — quicker and
quicker as the story reached its climax — burst, at last, into a
laugh composed of one loud sonorous " Ha ! ha!" Having
given vent to which, his countenance immediately fell again
as he inquired, with the utmost anxiety, whether it was prob-
able that John Browdie and Squeers had come to blows?
" No ! I think not," replied Smike. " I don't think he
could have missed me till I had got quite away."
Newman scratched his head with a show of great disap-
pointment, and once more lifting up the mug, applied him-
self to the contents ; smiling meanwhile, over the rim, with
a grim and ghastly smile at Smike.
"You shall stay here," said Newman; "you're tired —
fagged. I'll tell them you're come back. They have been
half mad about you. Mr. Nicholas "
" God bless him ! " cried Smike.
" Amen ! " returned Newman. " He hasn't had a min-
ute's rest or peace ; no more has the old lady, nor Miss
Nickleby."
" No, no. Has she thought about me ? " said Smike.
" Has she thought 1 Oh, has she, has she ? Don't tell me
so, if she has not."
" She has," cried Newman. " She is as noble-hearted as
she is beautiful."
" Yes, yes ! " cried Smike, " Well said ! "
" So mild and gentle," said Newman.
" Yes, yes ! " cried Smike, with increasing eagerness.
"And yet with such a true and gallant spirit," pursued
Newman.
He was going on, in his enthusiasm, when, chancing to
look at his companion, he saw that he had covered his face
with his hands, and that tears were stealing out between his
fingers.
A moment before, the boy's eyes were sparkling with un-
wonted fire, and every feature had been lighted up with an
excitement which made him appear, for the moment, quite a
different being.
"Well, well," muttered Newman, as if he were a little
2 1 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
puzzled. " It has touched me, more than once, to think such
a nature should have been exposed to such trials ; this poor
fellow — yes, yes, — he feels that too — it softens him — makes
him think of his former misery. Hah ! That's it .-* Yes,
that's — hum ! "
It was by no means clear, from the tone of these broken
reflections, that Newman Noggs considered them as explain-
ing at all satisfactorily, the emotion which had suggested
them. He sat, in a musing attitude, for some time, regarding
Smike occasionally with an anxious and doubtful glance, which
sufficiently showed that he was not very remotely connected
with his thoughts.
At length he repeated his proposition that Smike should
remain where he was for that night, and that he (Noggs)
should straightway repair to the cottage to relieve the suspense
of the family. But, as Smike would not hear of this — plead-
ing his anxiety to see his friends again — they eventually sallied
forth together ; and the night being, by this time, far advanced,
and Smike being, besides, so footsore that he could hardly
crawl along, it was within an hour of sunrise when they reached
their destination.
At the first sound of their voices outside the house, Nicho-
las, who had passed a sleepless night, devising schemes for
the recovery of his lost charge, started from his bed, and
joyfully admitted them. There was so much noisy conversa-
tion, and congratulation, and indignation, that the remainder
of the family were soon awakened, and Smike received a warm
and cordial welcome, not only from Kate, but from Mrs.
Nickleby also : who assured him of her future favor and
regard, and was so obliging as to relate for his entertainment
and that of the assembled circle a most remarkable account
extracted from some work the name of which she had never
known, of a miraculous escape from some prison, but what
prison she couldn't remember, effected by an officer whose
name she had forgotten, confined for some crime which she
didn't clearly recollect.
At first Nicholas was disposed to give his uncle credit for
some portion of this bold attempt (which had so nearly proved
successful), to carr}^ off Smike ; but, on more mature consid-
eration, he was inclined to think that the full merit of it rested
with Mr. Squeers. Determined to ascertain, if he could,
through John lirowdic, how the case really stood, he betook
himself to his daily occupation : meditating as he went, on a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. r^
great variety of schemes for the punishment of the Yorl^shire
schoolmaster, all of which had their foundation in the strictest
principles of retributive justice, and had but the one draw-
back of being wholly impracticable.
"A fine morning, Mr. Linkinwater ! " said Nicholas, en-
tering the office.
" Ah ! " replied Tim, " talk of the country, indeed !
What do 3-0U think of this, now, for a day — a London day —
eh .? "
" It's a little clearer out of town," said Nicholas.
" Clearer ! " echoed Tim Linkinwater. " You should see it
from my bed-room window."
" You should see it from mine," replied Nicholas, with a
smile.
" Pooh ! pooh ! " said Tim Linkinwater. " Don't tell me.
Country ! " (Bow was quite a rustic place to Tim), " Non-
sense ! What can you get in the country but new-laid eggs
and flowers ? I can buy new-laid eggs in Leadenhall market,
any morning before breakfast. And as to flowers, it's
worth a run up stairs to smell my mignonette, or to see the
double-wallflower in the back-attic window, at No. 6, in the
court."
"There is a double-wallflower at No. 6, in the court, is
there ? " said Nicholas.
" Yes, is there ! " replied Tim, " and planted in a cracked
jug, without a spout. There were hyacinths there, this last
spring, blossoming in but you'll laugh at that."
"At what?"
" At their blossoming in old blacking-bottles," said
Tim.
"Not I, indeed," returned Nicholas.
Tim looked wistfully at him, for a moment, as if he were
encouraged by the tone of this reply to be more communica-
tive on the subject ; sticking behind his ear, a pen that he had
been making, and shutting up his knife with a smart click, he
said,
" They belong to a sickly bed-ridden hump-backed boy,
and seem to be the only pleasures, Mr. Nickleby, of his sad
existence. How many years is it," said Tim, pondering,
"since I first noticed him, quite a little child, dragging him-
self about on a pair of tiny crutches .'' \\'ell ! \\'ell ! Not
many ; but though they would appear nothing, if I thought of
other things, they seem a long long time, when I think cf
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
f/him. It is a sad thing," said Tim, breaking off, "to see a
little deformed child sitting apart from other children, who
\ \ are active and merry, watching the games he is denied the
power to share in. He made my heart ache very often."
" It is a good heart," said Nicholas, " that disentangles
itself from the close avocations of every day, to heed such
things. You were saying "
" That the flowers belonged to this poor boy," said Tim ;
"that's all. When it is fine weather, and he can crawl out of
bed, he draws a chair close to the window, and sits there,
looking at them and arranging them, all day long. We used
to nod^at first, ancj. then we came to speak. Formerly, w^hen
1 called to him of a morning, and asked him how he was, he
would smile, and say, ' better ; ' but now he shakes his head,
and only bends more closely over his old plants. It must be
dull to watch the dark house-tops and the flying clouds, for
so many months ; but he is very patient."
" Is there nobody in the house to cheer or help him ? "
asked Nicholas.
"His father lives there, I believe," replied Tim, "and
other people too ; but no one seems to care much for the
poor sickly cripple. I have asked him, very often, if I can do
nothing for him ; his answer is always the same. ' Nothing.'
His voice is growing weak of late, but I can see that he makes
the old reply. He can't leave his bed now, so they have
moved it close beside the window, and there he lies, all day :
now, looking at the sky, and now at his flowers, which he
still makes shift to trim and water, with his own thin liands.
At night, when he sees my candle, he draws back his curtain,
and leaves it so, till I am in bed. It seems such company to
him to know that I am there, that I often sit at my window
for an hour or more, that he may see I am still awake ; and
sometimes I get up in the night to look at the dull melancholy
lisiht in his little room, and wonder whether he is awake or
sleeping.
" The night will not be long coming," said Tim, " when he
will sleep, and never wake again on earth. We ha\e never
so much as shaken hands in all our lives, and yet I shall miss
him like an old friend. Are there any country flowers that
could interest me like these, do you think ? Or do you sup-
pose that the withering of a hundred kinds of the choicest
flowers that blow, called by the hardest Latin names that
were ever invented, would give me one fraction of the pain
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
513
that I shall feel when those old jugs and bottles are swept
away as lumber ! Country ! " cried Tim, with a contemptu-
ous emphasis ; " don't you know that I couldn't have such
a court under my bed-room window, anywhere, but in Lon-
don?"
With which inquiry, Tim turned his back, and pretending
to be absorbed in his accounts, took an opportunity of hastily
wiping his eyes when he supposed Nicholas was looking an-
other way.
Whether it was that Tim's accounts were more than usually
intricate that morning, or whether it was that his habitual
serenity had been a little disturbed by these recollections, it
so happened that when Nicholas returned from executing
some commission, and inquired whether Mr. Charles Cheery-
ble was alone in the room, Tim promptly, and without the
smallest hesitation, replied in the afifinnative, although some-
body had passed into the room not ten minutes before, and
Tim took especial and particular pride in preventing any in-
trusion on either of the brothers when they were engaged with
any visitor whatever.
"I'll take this letter to him at once," said Nicholas, "if
that's the case." And with that, he walked to the room and
knocked at the door.
No answer.
Another knock, and still no answer.
"He can't be here," thought Nicholas. "I'll lay it on
his table."
So, Nicholas opened the door and walked in ; and very
quickly he turned to walk out again, when he saw, to his great
astonishment and discomfiture, a young lady upon her knees
at Mr. Cheeryble's feet, and Mr. Cheeryble beseeching her to
rise, and entreating a third person who had the appearance
of the young lady's female attendant, to add her persuasions
to his to induce her to do so.
Nicholas stammered out an awkward apology, and was
precipitately retiring, when the young lady, turning her head a
little, presented to his view the features of the lovely girl
whom he had seen at the register-office on his first visit long
before. Glancing from her to the attendant, he recognized
the same clumsy servant who had accompanied her then ; and
between his admiration of the young lady's beauty, and the
confusion and surprise of this unexpected recognition, he
stood stock-still, in such a bewildered state of surprise and
e 1 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
embarrassment that, for the moment, he was quite bereft of
the power either to speak or move.
" My dear ma'am — my dear young lady," cried brother
Charles in violent agitation, " pray don't — not another word,
I beseech and entreat you ! I implore you — I beg of you — to
rise. We — we — are not alone."
As he spoke, he raised the young lady, who staggered to a
chair and swooned away.
" She has fainted, sir," said Nicholas, darting eagerly for-
ward.
" Poor dear, poor dear ! " cried brother Charles. " Where
is my brother Ned ? Ned, my dear brother, come here pray."
" Brother Charles, my dear fellow," replied his brother,
hurrying into the room, " what is the ah ! what "
" Hush ! hush ! — not a word for your life, brother Ned,"
returned the other. " Ring for the housekeeper, my dear
brother— call Tim Linkinwater ! Here, Tim Linkinwater, sir
— Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, leave the room, I beg and be-
seech of you."
" I think she is better now," said Nicholas, who had been
watching the patient so eagerly, that he had not heard the
request.
" Poor bird ! " cried brother Charles, gently taking her
hand in his, and laying her head upon his arm. " Brother
Ned, my dear fellow, you will be surprised, I know, to witness
this, in business hours ; but — " here he was again reminded
of the presence of Nicholas, and, shaking him by the hand,
earnestly requested him to leave the room, and to send Tim
Linkinwater without an instant's delay.
Nicholas immediately withdrew, and, on his way to the
counting-house, met both the old housekeeper and Tim Link-
inwater, jostling each other in the passage, and hurrying to
the scene of action with extraordinary speed. Without wait-
ing to hear his message. Tim Linkinwater darted into the
room, and presently afterwards Nicholas heard the door shut
and locked on the inside.
He had abundance of time to ruminate on this discovery,
for Tim Linkinwater was absent during the greater part of an
hour, during the whole of which time Nicholas thought of
nothing but the young lady, and her exceeding beauty, and
what could possibly have brought her there, and why they
made such a mystery of it. The more he thoiight of all this,
the more it perplexed him, and the more anxious he became
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. ^ i r
to know who and what she was. " I should have known her /
among ten thousand," thought Nicholas. And with that he \
walked up and down the room, and recalling her face and /
figure (of which he had a peculiarly vivid remembrance), /
discarded all other subjects of reflection and dwelt upon that I
alone. ___A
At length Tim Linkinwater came back — provokingly cool,
and with papers in his hand, and a pen in his mouth, as if
nothing had happened.
" Is she quite recovered ? " said Nicholas, impetuously.
" Who ? " returned Tim Linkinwater.
"Who ? " repeated Nicholas. " The young lady."
"What do you make, Mr. Nickleby," said Tim, taking his
pen out of his mouth, " what do you make of four hundred
and twenty-seven times three thousand two hundred and thirt\^-
eight ? "
" Nay," returned Nicholas, " what do you make of my
question first t I asked you "
"About the young lady," said Tim Linkinwater, putting
on his spectacles. " To be sure. Yes. Oh ! she's very
well,"
" Very well, is she t " returned Nicholas.
" Very well," replied Mr. Linkinwater, gravely.
"Will she be able to go home to day.? " asked Nicholas.
" She's gone," said Tim.
" Gone ! "
" Yes."
" I hope she has not far to go ? " said Nicholas, looking
earnestly at the other.
" Ay," replied the immovable Tim, " I hope she hasn't."
Nicholas hazarded one or two further remarks, but it was
evident that Tim Linkinwaterhad his own reasons for evading
the subject, and that he was determined to afford no further
information respecting the fair unknown, who had awakened
so much curiosity in the breast of his young friend. Nothing
daunted by this repulse, Nicholas returned to the charge next
day, emboldened by the circumstance of Mr. Linkinwater
being in a very talkative and communicative mood ; but, he
no sooner resumed the theme, than Tim relapsed into a state
of the most provoking taciturnity, and from answering in
monosyllables, came to returning no answers at all, save such
as were to be inferred froiTi several grave nods and shrugs,
which only served to whet that appetite for intelligence in
5 1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Nicholas, which had already attained a most unreasonable
height.
Foiled in these attempts, he was fain to content himself
with watching for the young lady's next visit, but here again
he was disappointed, Day after day passed, and she did not
return. He looked eagerly at the superscription of all the
notes and letters, but there was not one among them which
he could fancy to be in her handwriting. On two or three oc-
casions he was employed on business which took him to a dis-
tance, and had formerly been transacted by Tim Linkinwater.
Nicholas could not help suspecting that, for some reason or
other, he was sent out of the way on purpose, and that the
young lady was there in his absence. Nothing transpired,
however, to confirm this suspicion, and Tim could not be
entrapped into any confession or admission tending to support
it in the smallest degree.
Mystery and disappointment are not absolutely indispen-
sable to the growth of love, but they are, very often, its power-
ful auxiliaries. " Out of sight, out of mind," is well enough
as a proverb applicable to cases of friendship, though absence
is not always necessary to hollowness of heart, even between
friends, and truth and honesty, like precious stones, are per-
haps most easily imitated at a distance, when the counterfeits
often pass for real. Love, however, is veryjmaterially assisted
by a warm and active imagihafion, which has a long ihemon,-,
and' will thrive for a considerable time on very s'ligRt and
sparing food. Thus it is, that it often attains its most lux-
uriant growth in separation and under circumstances of the
utmost difficulty ; and thus it was, that Nicholas, thinking of
nothing but the unknown young lady, from day to day and
from hour to hour, began, at last, to think that he was very
desperately in love with her, and that never was such an ill-
used and persecuted lover as he.
Still, though he loved and languished after the most
orthodox models, and was only deterred from making a con-
fidante of Kate by the slight considerations of having never,
in all his life, spoken to the object of his passion, and having
never set eyes upon her, except on two occasions, on both of
which she had come and gone like a flash of lightning — or,
as Nicholas himself said, in the numerous conversations he
held with himself, like a vision of youth and beauty much too
bright to last — his ardor and devotion remained without its
reward. The young lady appeared no more ; so there was a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
517
great deal of love wasted (enough indeed, to have set up
half-a-dozen young gentlemen, as times go, with the utmost
decency) and nobody was a bit the wiser for it ; not even
Nicholas himself, who, on the contrary, became more dull,
sentimental, and lackadaisical, every day.
While matters were in this state, the failure of a corre-
spondent of the Brothers Cheeryble, in Germany, imposed
upon Tim Linkinwater and Nicholas the necessity of going
through some very long and complicated accounts, extending
over a considerable space of time. To get through them
with the greater despatch, Tim Lmkinwater proposed that
they should remain at the counting-house, for a week or so,
until ten o'clock at night ; to this, as nothing damped the
zeal of Nicholas in the service of his kind patrons — not even
romance, which has seldom business habits — he cheerfully
assented. On the very first night of these later hours, at
nine exactly, there came, not the young lady herself, but her
servant, who, being closeted with brother Charles for some
time, went away, and returned next night at the same hour,
and on the next, and on the next again.
These repeated visits inflamed the curiosity of Nicholas
to the very highest pitch. Tantalized and excited, beyond
all bearing, and unable to fathom the mystery without
neglecting his duty, he confided the whole secret to Newman
Noggs, imploring him to be on the watch next night; to
follow the girl home ; to set on foot such inquiries relative to
the name, condition, and histor}^ of her mistress, as he could,
without exciting suspicion ; and to report the result to him
with the least possible delay.
Beyond all measure proud of this commission, Newman
Noggs took up his post, in the square, on the following
evening, a full hour before the needful time, and planting
himself behind the pump and pulling his hat over his eyes,
began his watch with an elaborate appearance of mystery,
admirably calculated to excite the suspicion of all beholders.
Indeed, divers servant-girls who came to draw water, and
sundry little boys who stopped to drink at the ladle, were
almost scared out of their senses, by the apparition of New-
man Noggs looking stealthily round the pump, with nothing
of him visible but his face, and that wearing the expression
of a meditative Ogre.
Punctual to her time, the messenger came again, and,
after an interview of rather longer duration than usual, de-
2 1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
parted, Newman had made two appointments with Nich-
olas : one for the next evening, conditional on his success :
one the next night following, which was to be kept under all
circumstances. The first night he was not at the place of
meeting (a certain tavern about half-way between the City
and Golden Square), but on the second night he was there
before Nicholas, and received him with open arms.
" It's all right," said Newman. " Sit down. Sit down,
there's a dear young man, and let me tell you all about it."
Nicholas needed no second invitation, and eagerly inquired
what was the news.
" There's a great deal of news," said Newman, in a flutter
of exultation. " It's all right. Don't be anxious. I don't
know where to begin. Never mind that. Keep up your
spirits. It's all right."
" Well 1 " said Nicholas eagerly. " Yes ? "
" Yes," replied Newman. " That's it."
" What's it ? " said Nicholas. " The name — the name,
my dear fellow ! "
"The name's Bobster," replied Newman.
" Bobster ! " repeated Nicholas, indignantly.
" That's the name," said Newman. " I remember it by
Lobster."
" Bobster ! " repeated Nicholas, more emphatically than
before. " That must be the servant's name."
" No, it ain't," said Newman, shaking his head with great
positiveness. " Miss Cecilia Bobster."
" Cecilia, eh ? " returned Nicholas, muttering the two names
together over and over again in every variety of tone, to try
the effect. " Well, Cecilia is a pretty name."
"Very. And a pretty creature too," said Newman.
" Who ? " said Nicholas.
^"Miss Bobster."
, ^•'Why, where have you seen her?" demanded Nicholas.
. • "Never mind, my dear boy," retorted Noggs, clapping
him on the shoulder. "I have seen her. You shall see her.
I've managed it all;"
" My dear Newman," cried Nicholas, grasping his hand ;
" are you serious ? "
" I am," replied Newman. " I mean it all. Every word.
You shall see her to-morrow night. She consents to hear
you speak for yourself. I persuaded her. She is all affability,
sweetness, and beauty."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 519
" I know she is : I know she must be, Newman ! " said
Nicholas, wringing his hand.
"You are right," returned Newman.
" Where does she live ? " cried Nicholas. " What have
you learnt of her history 1 Has she a father — mother — any
brothers — sisters .'' What did she say ? How came you to
see her ? Was she not very much surprised ? Did you say
how passionately I have longed to speak to her 1 Did you
tell her where I had seen her t Did you tell her how, and
when, and where, and how long, and how often, I have thought
of that sweet face which came upon me in my bitterest dis-
tress like a glimpse of some better world — did you, Newman
—did you ? "
Poor Noggs literally gasped for breath as this flood of
questions rushed upon him, and moved spasmodically in his
chair at every fresh inquiry, staring at Nicholas meanwhile
with a most ludicrous expression of perplexity.
" No," said Newman, " I didn't tell her that."
" Didn't tell her which? " asked Nicholas.
" About the glimpse of the better world," said Newman.
" I didn't tell her who you were," either, or where you'd seen
her. I said you loved her to distraction."
" That's true, Newman," replied Nicholas, with his char-
acteristic vehemence. " Heaven knows I do ! "
" I said too, that you had admired her for a long time in
secret," said Newman.
" Yes, yes. What did she say to that 'i " asked Nicholas.
" Blushed," said Newman.
" To be sure. Of course she would," said Nicholas, ap-
provingly.
Newman then went on to say, that the yjoung lady was an
only child, that her mother was dead, that she resided with
her father, and that she had been induced to allow her lover
a secret interview, at the intercession of her servant who had
great influence with her. He further related how it required
much moving and great eloquence to bring the young lady to
this pass ; how it was expressly understood that she merely/
afforded Nicholas an opportunity of declaring his passion ;
and how she by no means pledged herself to be favorably
impressed with his attentions. The mystery of her visits to
the Brothers Cherryble, remained wholly unexplained, for
Newman had not alluded to them, either in his preliminary
conversations with the servant or his subsequent interview with
C20 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
the mistress, merely remarking that he had been instructed
to watch the girl home and plead his young friend's cause,
and not saying how far he had followed her, or from what
point. But Newman hinted that from what had fallen from
the confidante, he had been led to suspect that the young lady
led a very miserable and unhappy life, under the strict con-
trol of her only parent, who was of a violent and brutal
temper ,■ a circumstance which he thought might in some
degree account, both for her having sought the protection
and friendship of the brothers, and her suffering herself to be
prevailed upon to grant the promised interview. The last he
held to be a very logical deduction from the premises, inas-
much as it was but natural to suppose that a young lady,
whose present condition was so unenviable, would be more
than commonly desirous to change it.
It appeared, on further questioning — for it was only by a
very long and arduous process that all this could be got out
of Newman Noggs — that Newman, in explanation of his
shabby appearance, had represented himself as being, for
certain wise and indispensable purposes connected with that
intrigue, in disguise ; and, being questioned how he had come
to exceed his commission so far, as to procure an interview, he
responded, that the lady appearing willing to grant it, he con-
sidered himself bound, both in duty and gallantry, to avail
himself of such a golden means of enabling Nicholas to pros-
ecute his addresses. After these and all possible questions
had been asked and answered twenty times over, they parted,
undertaking to meet on the following night at half-past ten,
for the purpose of fulfilling the appointment : which was for
eleven o'clock.
" Things come about very strangely ! " thought Nicholas,
as he walked home. " I never contemplated anything of this
kind ; never dreamt of the possibility of it. To know some-
thing of the I ife of one in whom I felt such interest ; to see
her in the street, to pass the house in which she lived, to meet
her sometimes in her walks, to hope that a day might come
when I might be in a condition to tell her of my love, this
was the utmost extent of my thoughts. Now, however — but
I should be a fool, indeed, to repine at my own good for-
tune ! "
Still, Nicholas was dissatisfied ; and there was more in
the dissatisfaction than mere revulsion of feeling. He was
angry with the young lady for being so easily won, '' because,"
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
521
reasoned Nicholas, " it is not as if she knew it was I, but it
nughT'tacve-been'-anybod}''/'— ^which was certainly not pleas-
^^aJL The next moment, he was angry with himself for enter-
taining such thoughts, arguing that nothing but goodness
could dwell in such a temple, and that the behavior of the
brothers sufficiently showed the estimation in which they held
her. " The fact is, she's a mystery altogether," said Nicholas.
This was not more satisfactory than his previous course of
reflection, and only drove him out upon a new sea of specu-
lation and conjecture, where he tossed and tumbled, in great
discomfort of mind, until the clock struck ten, and the hour
of meetins: drew nigh.
Nicholas had dressed himself with great care, and even
Newman Noggs had trimmed himself up a little : his coat
presenting the phenomenon of two consecutive buttons, and
the supplementary pins being inserted at tolerably regular in-
tervals. He wore his hat, too, in the newest taste, with a
pocket handkerchief in the crown, and a twisted end of it
straggling out behind after the fashion of a pigtail, though he
could scarcely lay claim to the ingenuity of inventing this
latter decoration, inasmuch as he was utterly unconscious of
,it; being in a nervous and excited condition which rendered
him quite insensible to everything but the great object of the
expedition.
They traversed the streets, in profound silence ; and after
walking at a round pace for some distance, arrived in one, of
a gloomy appearance and very little frequented, near the
Edgeware-road.
" Number twelve," said Newman.
" Oh ! " replied Nicholas, looking about him.
" Good street .'' " said Newman.
"Yes," returned Nicholas. "Rather dull."
Newman made no answer to this remark, but, halting
abruptly, planted Nicholas with his back to some area rail-
ings, and gave him to understand that he was to wait there,
without moving hand or foot, until it was satisfactorily ascer-
tained that the coast was clear. This done, Noggs limped
away with great alacrity ; looking over his shoulder every in-
stant, to make quite certain that Nicholas was obeying his
directions ; and, ascending the steps of a house some half-
dozen doors off, was lost to view.
After a short delay, he re-appeared, and limping back
again, halted midway, and beckoned Nicholas to follow him.
c 2 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" Well ? " said Nicholas, advancing towards him on tiptoe.
" All right," replied Newman, in high glee. " All ready ;
nobody at home. Couldn't be better. Ha ! ha ! "
With this fortifying assurance, he stole past a street-door,
on which Nicholas caught a glimpse of a brass plate, with
" BoBSTER," in very large letters ; and, stopping at the area-
gate, which was open, signed to his young friend to descend.
" What the devil ! " cried Nicholas, drawing back. " Are
we to sneak into the kitchen, as if we came after the forks ? "
" Hush ! " replied Newman. " Old Bobster — ferocious
Turk. He'd kill 'em all — box the young lady's ears — he does
—often."
" What ! " cried Nicholas, in high wrath, " do you mean
to tell me that any man would dare to box the ears of such
a "
He had no time to sing the praises of his mistress, just
then, for Newman gave him a gentle push which had nearly
precipitated him to the bottom of the area-steps. Thinking
it best to take the hint in good part, Nicholas descended,
without further remonstrance, but with a countenance be-
speaking anything rather than the hope and rapture of a
passionate lover. Newman followed — he would have fol-
lowed head first, but for the timely assistance of Nicholas —
and, taking his hand, led him through a stone passage, pro-
foundly dark, into a back kitchen or cellar, of the blackest
and most pitchy obscurity, where they stopped.
" Well ! " said Nicholas, in a discontented whisper, " this
is not all, I suppose, is it ? "
" No, no," rejoined Noggs ; " they'll be here directly. It's
all right."
" I am gbd to hear it," said Nicholas. " I shouldn't
have thought it, I confess."
They exchanged no further words, and there Nicholas
stood, listening to the loud breathing of Newman Noggs, and
imagining that his nose seemed to glow like a red-hot coal,
even in the midst of the darkness which enshrouded them.
Suddenly, the sound of cautious footsteps attracted his ear,
and directly afterwards a female voice inquired if the gentle-
man was there.
" Yes," replied Nicholas, turning towards the corner from
which the voice proceeded. " Who is that ? "
"Only me, sir," replied the voice. "Now if you please,
ma'am."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^33
A gleam of light shone into the place, and presently the
servant-girl appeared, bearing a light, and followed by her
young mistress, who seemed to be overwhelmed by modesty
and confusion.
At sight of the young lady Nicholas started and changed
color ; his heart beat violently, and he stood rooted to the
spot. At that instant, and almost simultaneously with her
arrival and that of the candle, there was heard a loud and
furious knocking at the street-door, which caused Newman
Noggs to jump up with great agility from a beer-barrel on
which he had been seated astride, and to exclaim abruptly,
and with a face of ashy paleness, " Bobster, by the Lord ! "
The young lady shrieked, the attendant wrung her hands,
Nicholas gazed from one to the other in apparent stupefac-
tion, and Newman hurried to and fro, thrusting his hands into
all his pockets successively, and drawing out the linings of
every one in the excess of his irresolution. It was but a mo-
ment, but the confusion crowded into that one moment no
imagination can exaggerate.
" Leave the house, for Heaven's sake ! We have done
wrong, we deserve it all," cried the young lady. " Leave the
house, or I am ruined and undone for ever."
" Will you hear me say but one word ! " cried Nicholas.
" Only one. I will not detain you. Will you hear me say
one word in explanation of this mischance 1 "
But Nicholas might as well have spoken to the wind, for
the young lady, with distracted looks, hurried up the stairs.
He would have followed her, but Newman, twisting his hand
in his coat collar, dragged him towards the passage by which
they had entered.
" Let me go, Newman, in the Devil's name ! " cried
Nicholas. " I must speak to her. I will ! I will not leave
this house without."
" Reputation — character — violence — consider," said New-
man, clinging round him with both arms, and hurrying him
away. "Let them open the door. We'll go, as we came,
directly it's shut. Come. This way. Here."
Overpowered by the remonstrances of Newman, and the
tears and prayers of the girl, and the tremendous knocking
above, which had never ceased, Nicholas allowed himself to
be hurried off ; and, precisely as Mr. Bobster made his en
trance by the street-door, he and Noggs made their exit by
the area-gate.
22 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
They hurried away, through several streets, without stop-
ping or speaking. At last, they halted and confronted each
other with blank and rueful faces,
" Never mind," said Newman, gasping for breath.
" Don't be cast down. It's all right. More fortunate next
time. It couldn't be helped. I did my part."
"Excellently," replied Nicholas, taking his hand. "Ex-
cellently, and like the true and zealous friend you are. Only
— mind, I am not disappointed, Newman, and feel just as
much indebted to you — only it was the wrong lady T
" Eh t " cried Newman Noggs, " Taken in by the ser-
vant .? "
" Newman, Newman," said Nicholas, laying his hand
upon his shoulder : " it was the wrong servant too."
Newman's under-jaw dropped, and he gazed at Nicholas,
with his sound eye fixed fast and motionless in his head.
" Don't take it to heart," said Nicholas ; "it's of no conse-
quence ; you see I don't care about it ; you followed the
wrong person, that's all."
That was all. Whether Newman Noggs had looked
round the pump, in a slanting direction, so long, that his sight
became impaired ; or whether, finding that there was time to
spare he had recruited himself with a few drops of something
stronger than the pump could yield — by whatsoever means it
had come to pass, this was his mistake. And Nicholas went
home to brood upon it, and to meditate upon the charms of
the unknown young lady, now as far beyond his reach as ever.
CHAPTER XLI.
CONTAINING SOME ROMANTIC PASSAGES BETWEEN MRS. NICK-
LEBY AND THE GENTLEMAN IN THE SMALL-CLOTHES NEXT
DOOR.
Ever since her last momentous conversation with her son,
Mrs. Nickleby had begun to display unusual care in the adorn-
ment of her person, gradually superadding to those staid and
matronly habiliments which had, up to that time, formed her
ordinary attire, a variety of embellishments and decorations,
slight perhaps in themselves, but, taken together, and consi-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 525
dered with reference to the subject of her disclosure, of no
mean importance. Even her black dress assumed something
of a deadly lively air from the jaunty style in which it was
worn ; and, eked out as its lingering attractions were, by a pru-
dent disposal, here and there, of certain juvenile ornaments of
little or no value, which had, for that reason alone, escaped
the general wreck and been permitted to slumber peacefully in
odd corners of old drawers and boxes where daylight seldom
shone, her mourning garments assumed quite a new character.
From being the outward tokens of respect and sorrow for the
dead, they became converted into signals of very slaughterous
and killing designs upon the living.
Mrs. Nickleby might have been stimulated to this proceed-
ing by a lofty sense of duty, and impulses of unquestionable
excellence. She might, by this time, have become impressed
with the sinfulness of long indulgence in una\'ailing woe, or
the necessity of setting a proper example of neatness and
decorum to her blooming daughter. Considerations of duty
and responsibility apart, the change might have taken its rise
in feelings of the purest and most disinterested charity.
The gentleman next door had been vilified by Nicholas ;
rudely stigmatized as a dotard and an idiot ; and for these at-
tacks upon his understanding, Mrs. Nickleby was, in some
sort, accountable. She might have felt that it was the act of
a good Christian to show, by all means in her power, that the
abused gentleman was neither the one nor the other. And
what better means could she adopt, towards so virtuous and
laudable an end, than proving to all men, in her own person,
that his passion was the most rational and reasonable in the
world, and just the very result, of all others, which discreet
and thinking persons might have foreseen, from her incau-
tiously displaying her matured charms, without reserve, under
the very eye, as it were, of an ardent and too-susceptible man ?
" Ah ! " said Mrs. Nickleby, gravely shaking her head ;
" if Nicholas knew what his poor dear papa suffered before
we were engaged, when I used to hate him, he would have
a little more feeling. Shall I ever forgot the morning I
looked scornfully at him when he offered to carr}' my
parasol ? Or that night when I frowned at him ? It was
a mercy he didn't emigrate. It very nearly drove him to it."
Whether the deceased might not have been better off if he
had emigrated in his bachelor days, was a question which his
relict did not stop to consider ; for Kate entered the room, with
526
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
her work-box, m this stage of her reflections ; and a much slight-
er interruption, or no interruption at all, would have diverted
Mrs. Nickleby's thoughts into a new channel at any time.
" Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby ; " I don't know
how it is, but a fine warm summer day like this, with the birds
singing in every direction, always puts me in mind of roast
pig, with sage and onion sauce, and made gravy."
" That's a curious association of ideas, is it not, mama ? "
" Upon my word, my dear, I don't know," replied Mrs.
Nickleby. " Roast pig ; let me see. On the day five weeks
after you were christened, we had a roast — no that couldn't
have been a pig, either, because I recollect there were a pair
of them to carve, and your poor papa and I could never have
thought of sitting down to two pigs — they must have been
partridges. Roast pig ! I hardly think we ever could have
had one, now I come to remember, for your papa could never
bear the sight of them in the shops, and used to say that they
always put him in mind of very little babies, only the pigs had
much fairer complexions ; and he had a horror of little babies,
too, because he couldn't very well afford any increase to his
family, and had a natural dislike to the subject. It's very
odd now, what can have put that in my head ! I recollect
dining once at Mrs. Bevan's, in that broad street round the
corner by the coachmaker's, where the tipsy man fell through
the cellar-flap of an empty house nearly a week before the
quarter-day, and wasn't found till the new tenant went in —
and we had roast pig there. It must be that, I think, that
reminds me of it, especially as there was a little bird in the
room that would keep on singing all the time of dinner — at
least, not a little bird, for it was a parrot, and he didn't sing
exactly, for he talked and swore dreadfully ; but I think it must
be that. Indeed I am sure it must. Shouldn't you say so,
my dear ? "
" I should say there was not a doubt about it, mama," re-
turned Kate, with a cheerful smile. " No ; but do you think
so, Kate } " said Mrs. Nickleby, with as much gravity as if it
were a question of the most imminent and thrilling interest.
" If you don't, say so at once, you know ; because it's just as
well to be correct, particularly on a point of this kind, which
is very curious and worth settling while one thinks about it."
Katf laughingly replied that she was quite convinced ;
and as her mama still appeared undetermined whether it was
not absolutely essential tliat the subject should be renewed,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. e 2 7
proposed that they should take their work into the summer-
house, and enjoy the beauty of the afternoon. Mrs. Nickleby
readily assented, and to the summer-house they repaired,
without further discussion.
" Well, I say," observed Mrs. Nicklely, as she took her
seat, " that there never was such a good creature as Smike.
Upon my word, the pains he has taken in putting this little
arbor to rights, and training the sweetest flowers about it,
are beyond anything I could have 1 wish he wouldn't
put all the gravel on your side, Kate, my dear, though, and
leave nothing but mould for me."
" Dear mama," returned Kate, hastily, " take this seat — •
do — to oblige me, mama."
" No, indeed, my dear. I shall keep my own side," said
Mrs. Nickleby. " Well ! I declare ! "
Kate looked up inquiringly.
"If he hasn't been," said Mrs. Nickleby, "and got, from
somewhere or other, a couple of roots of those flowers that I
said I was so fond of, the other night, and asked you if you
were not — no, that you said you were so fond of, the other
night, and asked me if I wasn't — it's the same thing. Now,
upon my word, I take that as very kind and attentive indeed !
I don't see," added Mrs. Nickleby, looking narrowly about
her, " any of them, on my side, but I suppose they grow best
near the gravel. You may depend upon it they do, Kate, and
that's the reason they are all near you, and he has put the
gravel there, because it's the sunny side. Upon my word,
that's very clever now ! I shouldn't have had half so much
thought myself I "
" Mama," said Kate, bending over her work so that her
face was almost hidden, " before you were married "
"Dear me, Kate," interrupted Mrs. Nickleby, " what in
the name of goodness graciousness makes you fly off to the
time before I was married, when I'm talking to you about his
thoughtfulness and attention to me .'' You don't seem to take
the smallest interest in the garden."
"Oh! mama," said Kate, raising her face again, "you
know I do."
" Well then, my dear, why don't you praise the neatness
and prettiness with which it's kept.?" said Mrs. Nickleby.
" How very odd you are, Kate ! "
•" I do praise it, mama," answered Kate, gently. " Poor
fellow ! "
g 28 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" I scarcely ever hear you, my dear," retorted Mrs. Nickle-
by ; " that's all I've got to say." By this time the good lady
had been a long while upon one topic, so she fell at once into
her daughter's little trap, if trap it were, and inquired what
she had been going to say.
" About what, mama .'' " said Kate, who had apparently
quite forgotten her diversion.
" Lor, Kate, my dear," returned her mother, " why, you're
asleep or stupid ! About the time before I was married."
"Oh yes!" said Kate, "I remember. I was going to
ask, mama, before you were married, had you many suitors .'' "
" Suitors, my dear ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, with a smile of
wonderful complacency. " First and last, Kate, I must have
had a dozen at least."
" Mama ! " returned Kate, in a tone of remonstrance.
" I had indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby ; " not in-
cluding your papa, or a young gentleman who used to go, at
that time, to the same dancing school, and who would send
gold watches and bracelets to our house in gilt-edged paper
(which were always returned), and who afterwards unfortu-
nately went out to Botany Bay in a cadet ship — a convict ship
I mean — and escaped into a bush and killed sheep (I don't
know how they got there), and was going to be hung, only he
accidently choked himself, and the government pardoned him.
Then there was young Lukin," said Mrs. Nickleby, beginning
with her left thumb and checking off the names on her fin-
gers— " Mogley — Tipslark — Cabbery — Smifser "
Having now reached her little finger, Mrs. Nickleby was
carrying the account over to the other hand, when a loud
" Hem ! " which appeared to come from the very foundation
of the garden-wall, gave both herself and her daughter a vio-
lent start.
" Mama ! what was that 1 " said Kate, in a low tone of
voice.
" Upon my word, my dear," returned Mrs. Nickleby, con-
siderably startled, '* unless it was the gentleman belonging to
the next house, I don't know what it could possibly "
" A — hem ! " cried the same voice ; and that, not in the
tone of an ordinary clearing of the throat, but in a kind of
bellow, which woke up all the echoes in the neighborhood,
and was prolonged to an extent which must have made the
unseen bellower quite black in the face.
" I understand it now, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby, lay-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. r 29
ing her hand on Kate's ; " don't be alarmed, my love, it's not
directed to you, and is not intended to frighten anybody. Let
us give everybody their due, Kate ; I am bound to say that."
So saying, Mrs. Nickleby nodded her head, and patted
the back of her daughter's hand, a great many times, ana
looked as if she could tell something vastly important if she
chose, but had self-denial, thank Heaven ; and wouldn't do it.
"What do you mean, mama } " demanded Kate, in evident
s irprise.
" Doiv't be flurried, my dear," replied Mrs. Nickleby, look-
ing towards the garden-wall, " for you see I'm not, and if it
would be excusable in anybody to be flurried, it certainly
would — under all the circumstances — be excusable in me, but
I am not, Kate, not at all."
" It seems designed to attract our attention, mama," said
Kate.
" It is designed to attract our attention, my dear ; at least,"
rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, drawing herself up, and patting her
daughter's hand more blandly than before, " to attract the
attention of one of us. Hem ! you needn't be at all uneasy,
my dear."
Kate looked very much perplexed, and was apparently
about to ask for further explanation, when a shouting and
scufifling noise, as of an elderly gentleman whooping, and
kicking up his legs on loose gravel, with great violence, was
heard to proceed from the same direction as the former
sounds ; and, before they had subsided, a large cucumber
was seen to shoot up in the air with the velocity of a sky-
rocket, whence it descended, tumbling over and over, until it
fell at Mrs. Nickleby's feet.
This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of
a precisely similiar description ; then a fine vegetable marrow,
of unusually large dimensions, was seen to whirl aloft, and
come toppling down ; then, several cucumbers shot up to-
gether ; finally, the air was darkened by a shower of onions,
turnip-radishes, and other small vegetables, which fell rolling
and scattering, and bumping about, in all directions.
As Kate rose from her seat, in some alarm, and caught
her mother's hand to run with her into the house, she felt
herself rather retarded than assisted in her intention; and
following the direction of Mrs. Nickleby's eyes, was quite
terrified by the apparition of an old black velvet cap, which,
by slow degrees;, as if its wearer were ascending a ladder or
34
r3o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
pair of steps, rose above the wall dividing their garden from
that of the next cottage (which, like their own, was a detached
building), and was gradually followed by a very large head,
and an old face in which were a pair of most extraordinary
grey eyes : very wild, very wide open, and rolling in their
sockets, with a dull languishing leering look, most ugly to
behold.
" Mama ! " cried Kate, really terrified for the moment,
" why do you stop, why do you lose an instant ? Mama, pray
come in ! "
" Kate, my dear," returned her mother, still holding back,
" how can you be so foolish ? I'm ashamed of you. How do
you suppose you are ever to get through life, if you're such a
coward as this ! What do you want, sir ? " said Mrs. Nickleby,
addressing the intruder with a sort of simpering displeasure.
" How dare you look into this garden ? "
"Queen of my soul," replied the stranger, folding his
hands together, " this goblet sip ! "
"Nonsense, sir," said Mrs. Nickleby. "Kate, my love,
pray be quiet."
" Won't you sip the goblet ? " urged the stranger, with his
head imploringly on one side, and his right hand on his breast.
" Oh, do sip the goblet ! "
I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir," said
Mrs. Nickleby. " Pray, begone."
"Why is it," said the old gentleman, coming up a step
higher, and leaning his elbows on the wall, with as much com-
placency as if he were looking out of window, " why is it that
beauty is always obdurate, even when admiration is as honor-
able and respectful as mine.?" Here he smiled, kissed his
hand, and made several low bows. " Is it owing to the bees, who,
when the honey season is over, and they are supposed to have
been killed with brimstone, in reality fly to Barbar)- and lull
the captive Moors to sleep with their drowsy songs ? Or,
is it," he added, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, " in
consequence of the statue at Charing Cross having been lately
seen, on the Stock Exchange at midnight, walking arm-in-arm
with the Pump from Aldgate, in a riding-habit ? "
" Mama," murmured Kate, " do you hear him.? "
" Hush, my dear ! " replied Mrs. Nickleby, in the same
tone of voice, "he is very polite, and I think that was a
quotation from the poets. Pray, don't worry me so — you'll
pinch my arm black and blue. Go away, sir ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. ^31
" Quite away ? " said the gentleman, with a languishing
look, " Oh ! quite away ? "
" Yes," returned Mrs. Nickleby, " certainly. You have no
business here. This is private property, sir ; you ought to
know that."
" I do know," said the old gentleman, laying his finger on
his nose, with an air of familiarity, most reprehensible, " that
this is a sacred and enchanted spot, where the most divine
charms" — here he kissed his hand and bowed again — "waft
mellifluousness over the neighbors' gardens, and force the fruit
and vegetables into premature existence. That fact I am
acquainted with. But will you permit me, fairest creature, to
ask you one question, in the absence of the planet' Venus, who
has gone on business to the Horse Guards, and would other-
wise— jealous of your superior charms — interpose between
us .? "
" Kate," observ-ed Mrs. Nickleby, turning to her daughter,
"it's ver)^ awkward, positively. "I really don't know what to
say to this gentleman. One ought to be civil, you know."
" Dear mama," rejoined Kate, " don't say a word to him,
but let us run away, as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up
till Nicholas comes home."
Mrs. Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptuous,
at this humiliating proposal ; and, turning to the old gentle-
man, who had watched them during these whispers with
absorbing eagerness, said :
" If you will conduct yourself, sir, like the gentleman I
should imagine you to be, from your language and — and
appearance (quite the counterpart of your grand-papa, Kate,
my dear, in his best days), and will put your question to me in
plain words, I will answer it."
If Mrs. Nickleby's excellent papa had borne, in his best
days, a resemblance to the neighbor now looking over the
wall, he must have been, to say the least, a very queer-looking
old gentleman in his prime. Perhaps Kate thought so, for she
ventured to glance at his living portrait with some attention,
as he took off his black velvet cap, and, exhibiting a perfectly
bald head, made a long series of bows, each accompanied with
a fresh kiss of the hand. After exhausting himself, to all
appearance, with this fatiguing performance, he covered his
head once more, pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of
his ears, and resuming his former attitude, said :
" The question is — "
232 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Here he broke off to look round in every direction, and
satisfy himself beyond all doubt that there were no listeners
near. Assured that there were not, he tapped his nose several
times, accompanying the action with a cunning look, as though
congratulating himself on his caution ; and stretching out his
neck, said in a loud whisper,
"Are you a princess ?"
"You are mocking me, sir," replied Mrs. Nickleby,
making a feint of retreating towards the house.
" No, but are you ? " said the old gentleman.
"You know I am not, sir," replied Mrs. Nickleby.
" Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canter-
bury } " inquired the old gentleman with great anxiety. " Or
to the Pope of Rome ? Or the Speaker of the House of
Commons ? Forgive me, if I am wrong, but I was told you
were niece to the Commissioners of Paving, and daughter-in-
law to the Lord Mayor and Court of Common Council, which
would account for your relationship to all three."
" Whoever has spread such reports, sir," returned Mrs.
Nickleby, with some warmth, " has taken great liberties with
my name, and one which I am sure my son Nicholas, if he
was aware of it, would not allow for an instant. The idea ! "
said Mrs. Nickleby, drawing herself up. " Niece to the Com-
missioners of Paving ! "
" Pray, mama, come away ! " whispered Kate.
"'Pray, mama!' Nonsense, Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby,
angrily, " but that's just the way. If they had said I was niece
to a piping bullfinch, what would you care ! But I have no
sympathy," whimpered Mrs. Nickleby, " I don't expect it,
that's one thing."
" Tears ! " cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic
jump, that he fell down two or three steps and grated his chin
against the wall. " Catch the ciystal globules — catch 'em —
bottle 'em up — cork 'em tight — put sealing-wax on the top —
seal 'em with a cupid — label 'em ' Best quality ' — and stow
'em away in the fourteen binn, with a bar of iron on the top
to keep the thunder off ! "
Issuing these commands, as if there were a dozen attend-
ants all acti\ely engaged in their execution, he turned his
velvet cap inside out, put it on with great dignity so as to ob-
scure his right eye and three-fourths of his nose, and sticking
his arms a-kimbo, looked very fiercely at a sparrow hard by,
till the bird flew away. He then put his cap in his pocket
NICHOLAS N/CKLEBY, 533
with an air of great satisfaction, and addressed himself with
respectful demeanor to Mrs. Nickleby.
" Beautiful madam," such were his words, " if I have made
any mistake with regard to your family or connections, I
humbly beseech you to pardon me. If I supposed you to be
related to Foreign Powers or Native Boards, it is because )'0u
have a manner, a carriage, a dignity, which you will excuse
my saying that none but yourself (with the single exception
perhaps of the tragic muse, when playing extemporaneously
on the barrel, organ before the East India Company) can par-
allel. I am not a youth, ma'am, as you see ; and although
beings like you can never grow old, I venture to presume that
we are fitted for each other."
" Really, Kate, my love ! " said Mrs. Nickleby faintty, and
looking another way.
" I have estates, ma'am," said the old gentleman, flourish-
ing his right hand negligently, as if he made very light of such
matters, and speaking very fast ; " jewels, light-houses, fish-
ponds, a whalery of my own in the North Sea, and several
oyster-beds of great profit in the Pacific Ocean. If you will
have the kindness to step down to the Royal Exchange and to
take the cocked hat off the stoutest beadle's head, you will
find my card in the lining of the crown, wrapped up in a piece
of blue paper. Mywalking-stick is also to be seen on appli-
cation to the chaplain of the House of Commons, who is
strictly forbidden to take any money for showing it. I have
enemies about me, ma'am," he looked towards his house and
spoke very low, " who attack me on all occasions, and wish to
secure my property. If you bless me with your hand and
heart, you can apply to the Lord Chancellor or call out the
military if necessary — sending my tooth-pick to the com-
mander-in-chief will be sufficient — and so clear the house of
them before the ceremony is performed. After that, love bliss
and rapture ; rapture love and bliss. Be mine, be mine ! "
Repeating these last words with great rapture and enthu^
siasm the old gentleman put on his black velvet cap again,
and looking up into the sky in a hasty manner, said something
that was not quite intelligible concerning a balloon he ex-
pected, and which was rather after its time.
" Be mine, be mine ! " repeated the old gentleman.
" Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleby, "I have hardly the
power to speak ; but it is necessary for the happiness of all
parties that this matter should be set at rest for ever.
^34 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word,
mama ? " reasoned Kate.
" You will allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for
myself," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" Be mine, be mine ! " cried the old gentleman.
" It can scarcely be expected, sir," said Mrs. Nickleby,
fixing her eyes modestly on the ground, " that I should tell a
stranger whether I feel flattered and obliged by such pro-
posals, or not. They certainly are made under very singular
circumstances ; still at the same time, as far as it goes, and to
a certain extent of course " (Mrs. Nickleby's customary qual-
ification), "they must be gratifying and agreeable to one's
feelings."
" Be mine, be mine," cried the old gentleman. " Gog and
Magog, Gog and Magog. Be mine, be mine ! "
" It will be sufficient for me to say, sir," resumed Mrs.
Nickleby, with perfect seriousness — " and I'm sure you'll see
the propriety of taking an answer and going away — that I
have made up my mind to remain a widow, and to devote my-
self to my children. You may not suppose I am the mother
of two children — indeed many people have doubted it, and
said that nothing on earth could ever make 'em believe it pos-
sible— but it is the case, and they are both grown up. We
shall be very glad to have you for a neighbor — very glad ;
delighted, I'm sure — but in any other character it's quite im-
possible, quite. As to my being young enough to many again,
that perhaps may be so, or it may not be ; but I couldn't think
of it for an instant, not on any account whatever. I said I
never would, and I never will. It's a ver}' pamful thing to
have to reject proposals, and I would much rather that none
were made ; at the same time this is the answer that I deter-
mined long ago to make, and this is the answer I shall always
give."
These observations were partly addressed to the old gen-
tleman, partly to Kate, and partly delivered in soliloquy.
Towards their conclusion, the suitor evinced a very irreverent
degree of inattention, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely finished
speaking, when, to the great terror both of that lady and her
daughter, he suddenly flung off his coat, and springing on the
top of the wall, threw himself into an attitude which displayed
his small clothes and gray worsteds to the fullest advantage,
and concluded by standing on one leg, .and repeating his
favorite bellow with increased vehemence.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 535
While he was still dwelling on the last note, and embellish-
ing it with a prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed to
glide stealthily and swiftly along the top of the wall, as if in
pursuit of a fly, and then to clasp with the utmost dexterity
one of the old gentleman's ankles. This done, the companion
hand appeared, and clasped the other ankle.
Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awk-
wardly once or twice, as if they were clumsy and imperfect
pieces of machinery, and then looking down on his own side
of the wall, burst into a loud laugh.
" It's you, is it ? " said the old gentleman.
" Yes, it's me," replied a gruff voice.
" How's the Emperor of Tartary ? " said the old gentleman.
" Oh ! he's much the same as usual," was the reply. " No
better and no worse."
" The young Prince of China," said the old gentleman,
with much interest. " Is he reconciled to his father-in-law,
the great potato salesman ? "
" No," answered the gruff voice ; " and he says he never
will be, that's more."
" If that's the case," observed the old gentleman, " per-
haps I'd better come down."
" Well," said the man on the other side, " I think you had,
perhaps."
One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old
gentleman dropped into a sitting posture, and was looking
round to smile and bow to Mrs. Nickleby, when he disap-
peared with some precipitation, as if his legs had been pulled
from below.
Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turn-
ing to speak to her mama, when the dirty hands again became
visible, and were immediately followed by the figure of a
coarse squat man, who ascended by the steps which had been
recently occupied by their singular neighbor.
" Beg you pardon, ladies," said this new comer, grinning
and touching his hat. " Has he been making love to either
of you ? "
"Yes," said Kate.
" Ah ! " rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of
his hat and wiping his face, " he always will, you know.
Nothing will prevent his making love."
" I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor crea-
ture," said Kate.
236 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
"Why no," replied the man, looking into his hat, throwing
his handkerchief in at one dab, and putting it on again.
"That's pretty plain, that is."
" Has he been long so ? " asked Kate.
" A long while."
" And is there no hope for him t " said Kate, compas-
sionately.
"Not a bit, and don't deserve to be," replied the keeper.
" He's a deal pleasanter without his senses than with 'em.
He was the cruellest, wickedest, out-and-outerest old flint that
ever drawed breath."
" Indeed ! " said Kate.
" By George ! " replied the keeper, shaking his head so
emphatically that he was obliged to frown to keep his hat on,
" I never came across such a vagabond, and my mate says
the same. Broke his poor wife's heart, turned his daughters
out of doors, drove his sons into the streets ; it was a blessing
he went mad at last, through evil tempers, and covetousness,
and selfishness, and guzzling, and drinking, or he'd have
drove many others so. Hope for Aim, an old rip ! There
isn't too much hope going, but I'll bet a crown that what there
is, is saved for more deserving chaps than him, anyhow "
With which confession of his faith, the keeper shook his
head again, as much as to say that nothing short of this would
do, if things were to go on at all ; and touching his hat
sulkily — not that he was in ill humor, but that his subject
ruffled him — descended the ladder, and took it away.
During this conversation, Mrs. Nickleby had regarded the
man with a severe and steadfast look. She now heaved a pro-
found sigh, and pursing up her lips, shook her head in a slow
and doubtful manner.
" Poor creature ! " said Kate.
"Ah! poor indeed!" rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, "It's
shameful that such things should be allowed. Shameful ! "
" How can they be helped, mama ? " said Kate, mournfully.
"The infirmities of nature — "
" Nature ! " said Mrs. Nickleby. " What ! Do you sup-
pose this poor gentleman is out of his mind ? "
" Can anybody who sees him entertain any other opinion,
mama?"
" Why then, I just tell you this, Kate," returned Mrs.
Nickleby, " that he is nothing of the kind, and I am surprised
you can be so imposed upon. It's some plot of these people
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
537
to possess themselves of his property — didn't he say so him-
self ? He may be a little odd and flighty, perhaps, many of
us are that ; but downright mad ! and express himself as he
does, respectfully, and in quite poetical language, and making
offers with so much thought, and care, and prudence — not as
if he ran into the streets, and went down upon his knees to
the first chit of a girl he met, as a madman would ! No, no,
Kate, there's a great deal too much method in his madness ;
depend upon that, my dear."
CHAPTER XLH.
ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE CONVIVIAL SENTIMENT, THAT THE BEST
OF FRIENDS MUST SOMETIMES PART.
The pavement of Snow Hill had been baking and frying
all day in the heat, and the twain Saracens' heads guarding the
entrance to the hostelry of whose name and sign they are the
duplicate presentiments, looked — or seemed in the eyes of jaded
and foot-sore passers-by, to look — more vicious than usual, after
blistering and scorching in the sun, when, in one of the inn's
smallest sitting-rooms, through whose open window there rose,
in a palpable steam, wholesome exhalations from reeking
coach-horses, the usual furniture of a tea-table was displayed
in neat and inviting order, flanked by large joints of roast and
boiled, a tongue, a pigeon-pie, a cold fowl, a tankard of ale,
and other little matters of the like kind, which, in degenerate
towns and cities, are generally understood to belong more
particularly to solid lunches, stage-coach dinners, or unusually
substantial breakfasts.
Mr. John Browdie, with his hands in his pockets, hovered
restlessly about these delicacies, stopping occasionally to
whisk the flies out of the sugar-basin with his wife's pocket-
handkerchief, or to dip a tea-spoon in the milk-pot and carry
it to his mouth, or to cut off a little knob of crust, and a little
corner of meat, and swallow them at two gulps like a couple
of pills. After every one of these flirtations with tlie eatables,
he pulled out his watch, and declared with an earnestness
quite pathetic that he couldn't undertake to hold out two
minutes longer.
C38 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" 'Tilly ! " said John to his lady, who was reclining half
awake and half asleep upon a sofa.
" Well, John ! "
" Weel, John ! " retorted her husband, impatiently. " Dost
thou feel hoongry, lass ? "
" Not very," said Mrs. Browdie.
" Not vary ! " repeated John, raising his eyes to the ceil-
ing. " Hear her say not var\% and us dining at three, and
loonching off pasthry thot aggravates a mon 'stead of pacify-
ing him ! Not vary ! "
" Here's a gen'l'man for you, sir," said the waiter, looking
in.
" A wa'at, for me ? " cried John, as though he thought it
must be a letter, or a parcel.
" A gen'l'man, sir."
" Stars and garthers, chap !" said John, "wa'at dost thou
coom and say thot for ? In wi' 'un."
" Are you at home, sir .'' "
" At whoam ! " cried John, " I wish I wur ; I'd ha' tea'd
two hour ago. Why, I told t'oother chap to look sharp oot-
side door, and tell 'un d'rectly he coom, thot we war faint wi'
hoonger. In wi' 'un. Aha ! Thee hond, Misther Nickleby.
This Is nigh to be the proodest day o' my life, sir. Hoo be
all wi' ye .? Ding ! But, I'm glod o' this ! "
Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his
salutation, John Browdie shook Nicholas by the hand again
and again, slapping his palm with great violence between each
shake, to add warmth to the reception.
" Ah ! there she be," said John, observing the look which
Nicholas directed towards his wife. "There she be — we
shan't quarrel about her noo — Eh ? Ecod, when I think o'
thot — but thou want'st soom'at to eat. Fall to, mun, fall to,
and for wa'at we're aboot to receive — "
No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing
more was heard, for John had already begun to play such a
knife and fork, that his speech was, for the time, gone.
" I shall take the usual license, Mr. Browdie," said Nich-
olas, as he placed a cliair for the bride.
"Tak' whatever thou like'st," said John, "and when a's
gane, ca' for more."
Without stopping to explain, Nicholas kissed the blushing
Mrs. Browdie, and handed her to her seat.
"I say," said John, rather astounded for the moment,
" niak' theeself quite at whoam, will 'ee .'' "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
539
" You may depend upon that," replied Nicholas ; " on one
condition."
"And wa'at may thot be ?" asked John.
" That you make me a godfather the very first time you.
have occasion for one."
" Eh ! d'ye hear thot ! " cried John, laying down his knife
and fork. " A godfeyther ! Hal' ha! ha! Tilly— hear till
'un — a godfeyther ! Divn't say a word more, ye'll never beat
thot. Occasion for 'un — a godfeyther ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! "
Never was man so tickled with a respectable old joke, as
John Browdie was with this. He chuckled, roared, half-
suffocated himself by laughing large pieces of beef into his
wind-pipe, roared again, persisted in eating at the same time,
got red in the face and black in the forehead, coughed, cried,
got better, went off again laughing inwardly, got worse,
choked, had his back thumped, stamped about, frightened his
wife, and at last recovered in a state of the last exhaustion
and with the water streaming from his eyes, but still faintly
ejaculating " A godfeyther — a godfeyther, Tilly ! " in a tone
bespeaking an exquisite relish of the sally, which no suffering
could diminish.
" You remember the night of our first tea-drinking ? " said
Nicholas.
"Shall I e'er forget it, mun?" replied John Browdie.
" He was a desperate fellow that night though, was he
not, Mrs. Browdie ? " said Nicholas. " Quite a monster ? "
" If you had only heard him as we were going home, Mr.
Nickleby, you'd have said so indeed," returned the bride. " I
never was so frightened in all my life."
" Coom, coom," said John, with a broad grin; "thou
know'st betther than thot, Tilly."
"So I was," replied Mrs. Browdie. "I almost made up
my mind never to speak to you again."
" A'most ! " said John, with a broader grin than the last.
" A'most made up her mind ! And she wur coaxin', and coax-
in,' and wheedlin', and wheedlin' a' the blessed wa'. 'Wa'at
didst thou let yon chap mak' oop tiv'ee for ? ' says I. ' I
deedn't, John,' says she, a squeedgin my arm. ' You deedn't,'
says I. ' Noa,' says she, a squeedgin of me agean."
" Lor, John ! " interposed his pretty wife, coloring very
much. " How can you talk such nonsense ? As if I should
have dreamt of such a thing ! "
" I dinnot know whether thou'd ever dreamt of it, though
240 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
I think that's loike eneaf, mind," retorted John ; " but thou
didst it. ' Ye're a feeckle, changeable weathercock, lass,'
says I. * Not feeckle, John,' says she. ' Yes,' says I,
'feeckle, dom'd feeckle. Dinnot tell me thou bean't, efther
yon chap at schoolmeasther's,' says I. ' Him ! ' says she,
quite screeching. ' Ah ! him ! ' says I. ' Why, John,' says
she — and she coom a deal closer and squeedged a deal harder
than she'd deane afore — ' dost thou think it's nat'ral noo, that
having such a proper mun as thou to keep company wi', I'd
ever tak' oop wi' such a leetle scanty whipper-snapper as
yon ? ' she says. Ha ! ha ! ha ! She said whipper-snapper !
' Ecod ! ' I say, ' efther thot, neame the day, and let's have it
ower!' Ha! ha! ha!"
Nicholas laughed very heartily at this story, both on ac-
count of its telling against himself, and his being desirous to
spare the blushes of Mrs. Browdie, whose protestations were
drowned in peals of laughter from her husband. His good-
nature soon put her at her ease ; and although she still denied
the charge, she laughed so heartily at it, that Nicholas had the
satisfaction of feeling assured that in all essential respects it
was strictly true.
'' This is the second time, that we have ever taken a meal
together, and only the third I have ever seen you ; and yet
it really seems to me as if I were among old friends."
" Weel ! " observed the Yorkshireman, " so I say."
"And I am sure I do," added his young wife.
" I have the best reason to be impressed with the feeling,
mind," said Nicholas, " for if it had not been for your kind-
ness of heart, my good friend, when I had no right or reason
to expect it, I know not what might have become of me or
what plight I should have been in by this time."
"Talk aboot soom'at else," replied John, gruffly, "and
dinnot bother."
" It must be a new song to the same tune then," said Nich-
olas, smiling. "I told you in my letter that I deeply felt and
admired your sympathy with that poor lad, whom you released
at the risk of involving yourself in trouble and difficulty ; but
I can never tell you how grateful he and I, and others whom
you don't know, are to you for taking pity on him."
" Ecod ! " rejoined John Browdie, drawing up his chair ;
" and I can never \.^\\ you hoo grateful soom folks that we do
know would be loikewise, if thev know'd I had takken pity on
him."
NICHOLAS NTCKLEB V. ^ 4 1
" Ah ! " exclaimed Mrs. Browdie, " what a state I was in,
that night ! "
" Were they at all disposed to give you credit for assisting
in the escape ? " inquired Nicholas of John Browdie.
"Not a bit," replied the Yorkshireman, extending his
mouth from ear to ear. "There I la}^ snoog in schoolmeas-
ther's bed long efther it was dark, and nobody coom nigh the
pleace. ' Weel ! ' thinks I, ' he's got a pretty good start, and
if he bean't whoam by noo, he never will be ; so you may
coom as quick as you loike, and foind us reddy ' — that is, you
know, schoolmeasther might coom."
" I understand," said Nicholas.
" Presently," resumed John, " he did coom. I heerd door
shut doon stairs, and him a warking oop in the daark. ' Slow
and steddy,' I says to myself, ' tak your time, sir — no hurry.'
He cooms to the door, turns the key — turns the key when
there warn't nothing to hoold the lock ! — and ca's oot ' Hallo,
there ! ' — ' Yes,' thinks I, ' you may do thot agean, and not
wakken anybody, sir.' ' Hallo, there ! ' he says, and then he
stops. ' Thou'd betther not aggravate me,' says schoolmeas-
ther, efhter a little time. ' I'll brak' every boan in your boddy,
Smike,' he says efther another little time. Then all of a
soodden, he sings oot for a loight, and when it cooms — ecod,
such a hoorly-boorly ! ' Wa'at's the matter? ' says I. ' He's
gane,' says he, — stark mad wi' vengeance. ' Ha\-e you heerd
nought .'' ' ' Ees,' says I, ' I heerd street door shut, no time
at a' ago. I heerd a person run doon there ' (pointing t'other
wa' — eh ?) ' Help ! ' he cries. ' I'll help you,' says I ; and
off we set — the wrong wa' ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! "
" Did you go far ? " asked Nicholas.
" Far ! " replied John ; " I run him clean off his legs in
quarther of an hoor. To see old schoolmeasther wi'out his
hat, skimming along oop to his knees in mud and wather,
tumbling over fences, and rowling into ditches, and bawling
oot like mad, wi' his one eye looking sharp out for the lad,
and his coat-tails flying out behind, and him spattered wi' mud
all ower, face and all ! I thot I should ha' dropped doon, and
killed myself wi' laughing."
John laughed so heartily at the mere recollection, that he
communicated the contagion to both his hearers, and all three
burst into peals of laughter, which were renewed agam and
again, until they could laugh no longer.
" He's a bad 'un, a very bad 'un, is schoolmeasther,"
242 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I can't bear the sight of him, John," said his wife,
" Coom," retorted John, " thot's tidy in you, thot is. If
it wa'nt along o' you, we shouldn't know nought aboot 'un.
Thou know'd 'un first, Tilly, didn't thou ?"
"I couldn't help knowing Fanny Squeers, John," returned
his wife ; " she was an old playmate of mine, you know."
" Weel," replied John, " didn't I say so, lass ? It's best
to be neighborly, and keep up old acquaintance loike ; and
what I say is, dean't quarrel if 'ee can help it. Dinnot think
so, Mr. Nickleby ? "
" Certainly," returned Nicholas ; " and you acted upon
that principle when I met you on horseback on the road, after
our memorable evening."
" Sure-ly," said John. " Wa'at I say, I stick by."
" And that's a fine thing to do, and manly too," said
Nicholas, " though it's not exactly what we understand by
' coming Yorkshire over us ' in London. Miss Squeers is
stopping with you, you said in your note."
^----^ "Yes," replied John, "Tilly's bridesmaid; and a queer
/ bridesmaid she be, too. She wean't be a bride in a hurry, I
(__^^eckon."
"For shame, John," said Mrs. Browdie ; with an acute
perception of the joke though, being a bride herself.
" The groom will be a blessed mun," said John, his eyes
twinkling at the idea. " He'll be in luck, he will."
" You see, Mr. Nickleby," said his wife, " that it was in
consequence of her being here, that John wrote to you and
fixed to-night, because we thought that it wouldn't be pleas-
ant for you to meet, after what has passed."
" Unquestionably. You were quite right in that," said
Nicholas, interrupting.
" Especially," observed Mrs. Browdie, looking very sly,
" after what we know about past and gone love matters."
" We know, indeed ! " said Nicholas, shaking his head.
"You behaved rather wickedly there, I suspect."
" O' course she did," said John Browdie, passing his huge
fore-finger through one of his wife's pretty ringlets, and look-
ing very proud of her. " She wur always as skittish and full
o' tricks as a "
" Well, as a what ? " said his wife.
"As a woman," returned John. "Ding! But I dinnot
know ought else tliat cooms nigh it."
"You were speaking about Miss Squeers," said Nicholas,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
543
with the view of stopping some sUght connubialities which
had begun to pass between Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, and which
rendered the position of a third party in some degree embar-
rassing, as occasioning him to feel rather in the way than
otherwise.
" Oh yes," rejoined Mrs. Browdie. " John ha' done. John
fixed to-night, because she had settled that she would go and
drink tea with her father. And to make quite sure of there
being nothing amiss, and of your being quite alone with us,
he settled to go out there and fetch her home."
" That was a very good arrangement," said Nicholas,
" though I am sorry to be the occasion of so much trouble."
" Not the least in the world," returned Mrs. Browdie ; " for
we have looked forward to seeing you — John and I have, with
the greatest possible pleasure. Do you know, Mr. Nickleby,"
said Mrs. Browdie, with the archest smile, " that I really think
Fanny Squeers was very fond of you ? "
"I am very much obliged to her," said Nicholas ; "but
upon my word, I never aspired to making any impression upon
her virgin heart."
" How you talk ! " tittered Mrs. Browdie. " No, but do
you know that really — seriously now and without any joking
— I was given to understand by Fanny herself, that you had
made an offer to her, and that you two were going to be en-
gaged quite solemn and regular."
" Was you, ma'am — was you ? " cried a shrill female voice,
" was you given to understand that I — I — was going to be en-
gaged to an assassinating thief that shed the gore of my pa ?
Do you — do you think, ma'am — that I was very fond of such
dirt beneath my feet, as I couldn't condescend to touch with
kitchen tongs, without blackening and crocking myself by the
contract ? Do you, ma'am ? Do you ? Oh, base and degrad-
ing 'Tilda ! "
With these reproaches Miss Squeers flung the door wide
open, and disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Browdies
and Nicholas, not only her own symmetrical form, arrayed in
the chaste white garments before described, (a little dirtier)
but the form of her brother and father, the pair of Wackfords.
" This is the hend, is it ? " continued Miss Squeers, who,
being excited, aspirated her h's strongly ; " this is the hend,
is it, of all my forbearance and friendship for that double-
faced thing — that viper, that — that^ — mermaid?" (Miss
Squeers hesitated a long time for this last epithet, and brought
544
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
it out triumphantly at last, as if it quite clinched the business.)
" This is the hend, is it, of all my bearing with her deceitful-
ness, her lowness, her falseness, her laying herself out to catch
the admiration of vulgar minds, in a way which made me
blush for my — for my "
" Gender," suggested Mr. Squeers, regarding the spectators
with a malevolent eye ; literally a malevolent eye.
"Yes," said Miss Squeers ; "but I thank my stars that my
ma' is of the same."
" Hear, hear ! " remarked Mr. Squeers \ " and I wish she
was here to have a scratch at this company."
" This is the hend, is it," said Miss Squeers, tossing her
head, and looking contemptuously at the floor, " of my taking
notice of that rubbishing creature, and demeaning myself to
patronize her ? "
" Oh, come," rejoined Mrs. Browdie, disregarding all the
endeavors of her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself
into a front row, "don't talk such nonsense as that."
" Have I not patronized you, ma'am ? " demanded Miss
Squeers.
" No," returned Mrs. Browdie.
" I will not look for blushes in such a quarter," said Miss
Squeers, haughtily, "for that countenance is a stranger to
everything but hignominiousness and red-faced boldness."
" I say," interposed John Browdie, nettled by these ac-
cumulated attacks on his wife, " dra' it mild, dra' it mild."
"You, Mr. Browdie," said Miss Squeers, taking him up
very quickly, " I pity. I have no feeling for you, sir, but one
of unliquidated pity."
" Oh ! " said John.
" No," said Miss Squeers, looking sideways at her parent,
" although I am a queer bridesmaid, and shati't be a bride in
a huny, and although my husband will be in luck, I enter-
tain, no sentiments towards you, sir, but sentiments of pity."
Here Miss Squeers looked sideways at her father again,
who looked sideways at her, as much as to say, ' There you
had him.'
" / know what you've got to go through," said Miss
Squeers, shaking her curls violently, " / know what life is
before you, and if you was my bitterest and deadliest enemy,
I could wish you nothing worse."
" Couldn't you wish to be married to him yourself, if that
was the case ? " inquired Mrs. Browdie, with great suavity of
manner.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^4^
"Oh, ma'am, how witty you are," retorted Miss Squeers
with a low curtsey, " ahnost as witty, ma'am, as you are clever.
How very clever it was in 3'ou, ma'am, to choose a time when
I had gone to tea with my pa', and was sure not to come back,
without being fetched ! What a pity you never thought that
other people might be as clever as yourself and spoil your
plans ! "
" You won't vex me, child, with such airs as these," said
the late Miss Price, assuming the matron.
" Don't Missis me, ma'am, if you please," returned Miss
Squeers, sharply. " I'll not bear it. Is this the hend — "
" Dang it a'," cried John Browdie, impatiently. " Say
thee say out, Fanny, and mak sure it's the end, and dinnot
ask nobody whether it is or not."
" Thanking you for your advice which was not required,
Mr. Browdie," returned Miss Squeers, with laborious polite-
ness, " have the goodness not to presume to meddle with my
christian name. Even my pity shall never make me forget
what's due to myself, Mr. Browdie. 'Tilda," said Miss
Squeers, with such a sudden accession of violence that John
started in his boots, " I throw you off forever, Miss. I aban-
don you. I renounce you. I wouldn't," cried Miss Squeers
in a solemn voice, " have a child named 'Tilda, not to save
it from its grave."
" As for the matther o' that," observed John, " it'll be
time eneaf to think aboot neaming of it when it cooms."
" John ! " interposed his wife, " don't tease her."
" Oh 1 Tease, indeed ! " cried Miss Squeers, bridling up.
" Tease, indeed ! He, he ! Tease, too ! No, don't tease
her. Consider her feelings, pray ! "
" If it's fated that listeners are never to hear any good of
themselves," said Mrs. Browdie, " I can't help it, and I am
very sorry for it. But I will say, Fanny, that times out of
number I have spoken so kindly of 3'ou behind your back, that
even you could have found no fault with what I said."
" Oh, I dare say not, ma'am ! " cried Miss Squeers, with
another curtsey. " Best thanks to you for 37our goodness,
and begging and praying you not to be hard upon me an-
other time ! "
" I don't know," resumed Mrs. Browdie, " that I have
said anything very bad of you even now. At all events, what
I did say was quite true ; but if I have, I am very sorry for
it, and I beg your pardon. You have said much worse of
35
546
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
me, scores of times, Fanny, but I have never borne any
malice to you, and I hope you'll not bear any to me."
Miss Squeers made no more direct reply than surveying
her former friend from top to toe, and elevating her nose in
the air with ineffable disdain. But some indistinct allusions
to a ' puss,' and a ' minx,' and a 'contemptible creature,' es-
caped her ; and this, together with a severe biting of the lips,
great difficulty in swallowing, and very frequent comings and
goings of breath, seemed to imply that feelings were swelling
in Miss Squeers's bosom too great for utterance.
While the foregoing conversation was proceeding. Master
Wackford, finding himself unnoticed, and feeling his prepon-
derating inclinations strong upon him, had by little and little
sidled up to the table and attacked the food with such slight
skirmishing as drawing his fingers round and round the inside
of the plates, and afterwards sucking them with infinite relish ;
picking the bread, and dragging the pieces over the surface of
the butter ; pocketing lumps of sugar, pretending all the time
to be absorbed in thought ; and so forth. Finding that no
interference was attempted with these small liberties, he grad-
ually mounted to greater, and, after helping himself to a mod-
erately good cold collation, was, by this time, deep in the pie.
Nothing of this had been unobserved by Mr. Squeers, who,
so long as the attention of the company was fixed upon other
objects, hugged himself to think that his son and heir should
be fattening at the enemy's expense. But there being now
an appearance of a temporary calm, in which the proceedings
of little Wackford could scarcely fail to be observ^ed, he
feigned to be aware of the circumstance for the first time, and
infiicted upon the face of that young gentleman a slap that
made the very teacups ring.
" Eating," cried Mr. Squeers, " of what his father's enemies
has left ! It's fit to go and poison you, you unnat'ral boy."
"Itwean't hurt him," said John, apparently very much
relieved by the prospect of having a man in the quarrel ; " let
'un eat. I wish the whole school was here. I'd give 'em
soom"ut to stay their unfort'nate stomachs wi', if I spent the
last penny I had ! "
Squeers scowled at him with the worst and most malicious
expression of which his face was capable — it was a face of re-
markable capability, too, in llial way — and shook his fist
stealthily.
" Coom, coom, schoolmeasther," said John, "dinnot make
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
547
a fool o' thyself ; for if I was to sheake mine — only once — ■
thou'cl fa' doon \vi' the wind o' it."
" It was you, was it," returned Squeers, "that helped off
my runaway boy ? It was you, was it ? "
" Me ! " returned John, in a loud tone. " Yes, it wa' me,
coom ; wa'at o' that ! It wa' me. Noo then ! "
" You hear him say he did it, my child ! " said Squeers,
appealing to his daughter. " You hear him say he did it ! "
" Did it ! " cried John. " I'll tell 'ee more ; hear this, too.
If thou'd get another roonaway boy, I'd do it agean. If
thou'd got twonty roonaway boys, I'd do it twenty times ower,
and twonty more to thot ; and I'll tell thee more," said John,
"noo my blood is oop, that thou't an old ra'ascal ; and that
it's weel for thou, thou be'st'an old 'un, or I'd ha poonded
thee to flour when thou told an honest mun hoo' thou'd licked
that poor chap in t' cooach."
" An honest man ! " cried Squeers, with a sneer.
"Ah! An honest man," replied John ; "honest in ought
but ever putting legs under seame table wi' such as thou."
" Scandal ! " said Squeers, exultingly. " Two witnesses to
it ; Wackford knows the nature of an oath, he does ; we shall
have you there, sir. Rascal, eh?" Mr. Squeers took out his
pocket-book, and made a note of it. " Very good. I should
say that was worth full twenty pound at the next assizes, with-
out the honesty, sir."
" 'Seizes," cried John, " thou'd betther not talk to me o'
'Soizes. Yorkshire schools have been shown up at 'Soizes
afore noo, mun, and it's a ticklish soobjact to revive, I can
tell ye."
Mr. Squeers shook his head in a threatening manner, look-
ing very white with passion ; and taking his daughter's arm,
and dragging little Wackford by the hand, retreated towards
the door.
"As for you," said Squeers, turning round and addressing
Nicholas, who, as he had caused him to smart pretty soundly
on a former occasion, purposely abstained from taking any
part in the discussion, " see if I ain't down upon you before
long. You'll go a kidnapping of boys, will you ? Take care
their fathers don't turn up — mark that — take care their
fathers don't turn up, and send 'em back to me to do as I like
with, in spite of you."
" I am not afraid of that," replied Nicholas, shrugging his
shoulders contemptuously, and turning away.
548
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Ain't you ! " retorted Squeers, with a diabolical look.
" Now then, come along."
" I leave such society, with my pa', for //ever," said Miss
Squeers, looking contemptuously and loftily round. " I am
defiled by breathing the air with such creatures. Poor Mr.
Browdie ! He ! he ! he ! I do pity him, that I do ; he's so
deluded ! He ! he ! he ! Artful and designing 'Tilda ! "
With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most majes-
tic wrath. Miss Squeers swept from the room ; and having
sustained her dignity until the last possible moment, was heard
to sob and scream and struggle in the passage.
John Browdie remained standing behmd the table, looking
from his wife to Nicholas, and back again, with his mouth
wide open, until his hand accidentally fell upon the tankard
of ale. He took it up, and having obscured his features there-
with for some time, drew a long breath, handed it over to
Nicholas, and rang the bell.
"Here, waither," said John briskly. "Look alive here,
Tak' these thing awa', and let's have soomat broiled for sooper
— vary coomfortable and plenty o' it — at ten o'clock. Bring
soom brandy and soom wather, and a pair o' slippers — the
largest pair in the house — and be quick aboot it. Dash ma'
wig ! " said John, rubbing his hands, " there's no ganging oot
to neeght, noo, to fetch anybody whoam. and ecod we'll begin
to spend the evening in airnest ! "
CHAPTER XLHI.
OFFICIATES AS A KIND OF GENTLEMAN USHER, IN BRINGING
VARIOUS PEOPLE TOGETHER.
The storm had long given place to a calm the most profound,
and the evening was pretty far advanced — indeed supper was
over, and the process of digestion proceeding as favorably as,
under the influence of complete tranquillity, cheerful conversa-
tion, and a moderate allowance of brandy and water, most
wise men conversant with the anatomy and functions of the
human frame will consider that it ought to have proceeded,
when the three friends, or as one might say, both in a civil
lYICHOLAS NICKLEB V. c, 49
and religious sense, and witli proper deference and regard to
the holy state of matrimony, tlie two friends (Mr. and ;\Irs.
Browdie counting as no more than one), were startled by the
noise of loud and angry threatenings below stairs, which pres-
ently attained so high a pitch, and were conveyed besides in
language so towering, sanguinary and ferocious, that it could
hardly have been surpassed, if there had actually been a Sara-
cen's head then present in the establishment, supported on the
shoulders and surmounting the trunk of a real live, furious,
and most unappeasable Saracen.
This turmoil, instead of quickly subsiding after the first
outburst (as turmoils not unfrequently do, whether in taverns,
legislative assemblies, or elsewhere), into a mere grumbling
and growling squabble, increased every moment ; and although
the whole din appeared to be raised by but one pair of lungs,
yet that one pair was of so powerful a quality, and repeated
such words as "scoundrel," "rascal," "insolent puppy," and
a \-ariety of expletives no less flattering to the party addressed,
with such great relish and strength of tone, that a dozen voices
raised in concert under ordinary circumstances would have
made far less uproar and created much smaller consternation.
" Wh}', what's the matter ? " said Nicholas, moving towards
the door.
John Browdie was striding in the same direction when
Mrs. Browdie turned pale, and leaning back in her chair, re-
quested him with a faint voice to take notice, that if he ran
into any danger it was her intention to fall into hysterics im-
mediately, and that the consequences might be more serious
than he thought for, John looked rather disconcerted by this
intelligence, though there was a lurking grin on his face at the
same time ; but, being quite unable to keep out of the fray,
he compromised the matter by tucking his wife's arm under
his own, and, thus accompanied, following Nicholas down stairs
with all speed.
The passage outside the coffee-room door was the scene
of disturbance, and here were congregated the coffee-room
customers and waiters, together with two or three coachmen
and helpers from the yard. These had hastily assembled
round a }-oung man man who from his appearance might ha\e
been a year or two older than Nicholas, and Vv-ho, besides hav-
ing given utterance to the defiances just now described,
seemed to have proceeded to even greater lengths in his in-
dignation, inasmuch as his feet had no other covering than a
c; 5 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
pair of stockings, while a couple of slippers lay at no great
distance from the head of a prostrate figure in an opposite
corner, who bore the appearance of having been shot into his
present retreat by means of a kick, and complimented by
having the slippers flung about his ears afterwards.
The coffee-room customers, and the waiters, and the coach-
men, and the helpers — not to mention a bar-maid who was
looking on from behind an open sash window — seemed at that
moment, if a spectator might judge from their winks, nods,
and muttered exclamations, strongly disposed to take part
against the young gentleman in the stockings. Observing this,
and that the young gentleman was nearly of his own age and
had in nothing the appearance of an habitual brawler, Nicholas,
impelled by such feelings as will inliuence young men some-
times, felt a very strong disposition to side with the weaker
party, and so thrust himself at once into the centre of the
group, and in a more emphatic tone, perhaps, than circum-
stances might .seem to warrant, demanded what all that
noise was about.
" Hallo ! " said one of the men from the yard, " This is
somebody in disguise, this is."
" Room for the eldest son of the Emperor of Roosher,
gen'l'men ! " cried another fellow.
Disregarding these sallies, which were uncommonly well
received, as sallies at the expense of the best-dressed persons
in a crowd usually are, Nicholas glanced carelessly round,
and addressing the young gentleman, who had by this time
picked up his slippers, and thrust his feet into them, repeated
his inquiries with a courteous air.
" A mere nothing ! " he replied.
At this, a murmur was raised by the lookers-on, and some
of the boldest cried, " Oh, indeed ! — Wasn't it, though ! — ■
Nothing, eh ? — He called that nothing, did he ? — Lucky for
liim if he found it nothing." These and many other expres-
sions of ironical disapprobation having been exhausted, two
or three of the out-of door fellows began to hustle Nicholas
and the young gentleman who had made the noise ; stumbling
against them by accident, and treading on their toes, and so
forth. l)Ut this being a round game, and one not necessarily
limited to three or four players, was open to John Browdie
too, who, bursting into the little crowd — to the great terror of
his wife — and falling about in all directions, now to the right,
now to the left, now forwards, now backwards and accidentally
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
55 T
driving his elbow through the hat of the tallest helper who
had been particularly active, speedily caused the odds to wear
a very different appearance ; while more than one stout fellow,
limped away to a respectful distance, anathematizing with
tears in his eyes the heavy tread and ponderous feet of the
burly Yorkshireman.
"Let me see him do it again," said he who had been kick-
ed into the corner, rising as he spoke, apparently more from
the fear of John Browdie's inadvertently treading upon him,
than from any desire to place himself on equal terms with his
late adversary. " Let me see him do it again. That's all."
" Let me hear you make those remarks again," said the
young man, " and I'll knock that head of yours in among the
wine-glasses behind you there."
Here a waiter who had been rubbing his hands in exces-
sive enjoyment of the scene, so long as only the breaking of
heads was in question, adjured the spectators with great ear-
nestness to fetch the police, declaring that otherwise murder
would be surely done, and that he was responsible for all the
glass and china on the premises.
" No one need trouble himself to stir," said the young
gentleman, " I am going to remain in the house all night, and
shall be found here in the morning if there is any assault to
answer for."
" What did you strike him for ? " asked one of the by-
standers.
" Ah ! What did you strike him for ? " demanded the
others.
The unpopular gentleman looked coolly round, and ad-
dressing himself to Nicholas, said :
" You inquired just now what was the matter here. The
matter is simply this. Yonder person, who was drinking with a
friend in the coffee-room when 1 took my seat there for half an
hour before going to bed (for I have just come off a journey,
and preferred stopping here to-night, to going home at this
hour, where I was not expected until to-morrow), chose to
express himself in very disrespectful, and insolently familiar
terms, of a young lady, whom I recognized from his descrip-
tion and other circumstances, and whom I have the honor to
know. As he spoke loud enough to be overheard by the
other guests who were present, I informed him most civilly
that he was mistaken in his conjectures, which were of an of-
fensive nature, and requested him to forbear. He did so for
^ 5 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
a little time, but as he chose to renew his conversation when
leaving the room, in a more offensive strain than before, I
could not refrain from making after him, facilitating his de-
parture by a kick, which reduced him to the posture in which
you saw him just now. I am the best judge of my own affairs,
I take it," said the young man, who had certainly not quite
recovered from his recent heat, " if anybody here thinks
proper to make this quarrel his own, I have not the smallest
earthly objection, I do assure him."
Of all possible courses of jDroceeding under the circumstances
detailed, there was certainly not one which, in his then state of
mind, could have appeared more laudable to Nicholas than
this. There were not many subjects of dispute which at that
moment could have come home to his own breast more pow-
erfully, for having the unknown uppermost in his thoughts, it
naturally occurred to him that he would have done just the
same if any audacious gossiper durst have presumed in his
hearing to speak lightly of her. Influenced by these consider-
ations, he espoused the young gentleman's quarrel with great
warmth, protesting that he had done quite right, and that he
respected him for it ; which John Browdie (albeit not quite
clear as to the merits) immediately protested too, with not in-
ferior vehemence.
" Let him take care, that's all," said the defeated party,
who was being rubbed down by a waiter, after his recent fall
on the dusty boards. " He don't knock me about for noth-
ing, I can tell him that. A pretty state of things, if a man
isn't to admire a handsome girl without being beat to pieces
for it ! "
This reflection appeared to have great weight with the
young lady in the bar, who (adjusting her cap as she spoke,
and glancing at a mirror) declared that it would be a very
pretty state of things indeed ; and that if people were to be
punished for actions so innocent and natural as that, there
would be more people to be knocked down than there would be
people to knock them down, and that she wondered what the
gentleman meant by it, that she did.
" My dear girl," said the young gentleman in a low voice,
advancing towards the sash window.
" Nonsense, sir ! " replied the young lady sharply, smil-
ing though as she turned aside, and biting her lip (whereat
Mrs. Browdie, who was still standing on the stairs, glanced at
her with disdain, and called to her husband to come away).
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 553
"No, but listen to me," said the young man. " If admira-
tion of a pretty face were criminal, 1 should be the most
hopeless person alive, for 1 cannot resist one. It has the most
extraordinary effect upon me, checks and controls me in the
most furious and obstinate mood. You see what an effect
yours has had upon me already."
"Oh, that's very pretty," replied the young lady, tossing
her head, " but "
" Yes, I know it's very pretty," said the young man, look-
ing with an air of admiration in the bar-maid's face, " 1 said
so, you know, just this moment. But beauty should be spoken
of respectfully — respectfully, and in proper terms, and with a
becoming sense of its worth and excellence, whereas this
fellow has no more notion — — "
The young lady interrupted the conversation at this
point, by thrusting her head out of the bar-window, and in-
quiring of the waiter in a shrill voice whether that young
man who had been knocked down was going to stand in the
passage all night, or whether the entrance was to be left clear
for other people .-' The waiters taking the hint, and communi-
cating it to the hostlers, were not slow to change their tone
too, and the result was, that the unfortunate victim was bun-
dled out in a twinkling.
" I am sure I have seen that fellow before," said Nicholas.
" Indeed ! " replied his new acquaintance.
" I am certain of it," said Nicholas, pausing to reflect.
" Where can I have — stop ! — yes, to be sure — he belongs to a
register-office up at the west end of the town. I knew I rec-
ollected the face."
It was indeed, Tom, the ugly clerk.
"That's odd enough!" said Nicholas, ruminating upon
the strange manner in which that register office seemed to
start up and stare him, in the face every now and then, and
when he least expected it.
" I am much obliged to you for your kind advocacy of my
cause when it most needed an advocate," said the young man,
laughing, and drawing a card from his pocket. " Perhaps
you'll do me the favor to let me know where I can thank
you."
Nicholas took the card, and glancing at it involuntarily as
he returned the compliment, evinced very great surprise.
" Mr. Frank Cheeryble ! " said Nicholas. " Surely not the
nephew of Cheeryble Brothers, who is expected to-morrow ! "
^^^ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" I don't usually call myself the nephew of the firm,"
returned Mr. Frank, good-humoredly ; " but of the two ex-
cellent individuals who compose it, I am proud to say I am
the nephew. And you, 1 see, are Mr. Nickleby, of whom 1
have heard so much ! This is a most unexpected meeting,
but not the less welcome, I assure you."
Nicholas responded to these compliments with others of
the same kind, and they shook hands warmly. ' Then he
introduced John Browdie, who had remained in a state of great
admiration ever since the young lady in the bar had been so
skilfully won over to the right side. Then Mrs. John Browdie
was introduced, and finally they all went up stairs together and
spent the next half hour with great satisfaction and nmtual
entertainment ; Mrs. John Browdie beginning the conversation
by declaring that of all the made-up things she ever saw, that
young woman below stairs was the vainest and the plainest.
This Mr. Frank Cheeryble, although, to judge from what
had recently taken place, a hot-headed young man (which is
not an absolute miracle and phenomenon in nature), was a
sprightly, good-humored, pleasant fellow, with much both in
his countenance and disposition that reminded Nicholas very
strongly, of the kind-hearted brothers. ^ His manner was, as
unaffected as theirs, and his demeanor fuiroT'tliaT heartiness
whiQli,_tQ...most people. who have anything generous in their
composition, is peculiarly prepossessiiig. Add to this, that
he was good-looking and intelligent, had a plentiful share of
vivacity, was extremely cheerful, and accommodated himself
in five minutes' time to all John p]rowdie's oddities with as
much ease as if he had known him from a boy ; and it will be
a source of no great wonder that when they parted for the
night he had produced a most favorable impression, not only
upon the worthy Yorkshireman and his wife, but upon Nicho-
las also, who, revolving all these things in his mind as he
made the best of his way home, arrived at the conclusion that
he had laid the foundation of a most agreeable and desirable
acquaintance.
" But it's a most extraordinary thing about that register-
oflfice fellow ! " thought Nicholas. " Is it likely that this
nephew can know anything about that beautiful girl ? When
Tim Linkinwater gave me to understand the other day that
he was coming to take a share in the business here, he said
he had been superintending it in Germany for four years, and
that during the last six months he had been engaged in estab-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
5SS
lishing an agency in tlie north of England. That's four years
and a half — four years and a half. She can't be more than
seventeen — say eighteen at the outside. She was quite a
child when he went away then. I should say he knew nothing
about her and had never seen her, so //t'can give me no infor-
mation. At all events," thought Nicholas, coming to the real
point in his mind, " there can be no danger of any prior
occupation of her affections in that quarter ; that's quite clear."
Is selfishness a necessar)' ingredient in the composition of
that passion called love, or does it deserve all the fine things
which poets, in the exercise of their undoubted vocation, have
said of it ? There are, no doubt, authenticated instances of
gentlemen having given up ladies and ladies having given up
gentlemen to meritorious rivals, under circumstances of great
high-mindedness ; but is it quite established that the majority
of such ladies and gentlemen have not made a virtue of neces-
sity, and nobly resigned what was beyond their reach ; as a pri-
vate soldier might register a vow never to accept the order of
the Garter, or a poor curate of great piety and learning, but of
no family — save a very large family of children — might re-
nomice a bishopric .-'
Here was Nicholas Nickleby, who would have scorned the
thought of counting how the chances stood of his rising in
favor or fortune with the Brothers Cheeryble, now that their
nephew had returned, already deep in calculations whether
that same nephew was likely to rival him in the affections of
the fair unknown — discussing the matter with himself too, as
gravely as if, with that one exception, it were all settled ; and
recurring to the subject again and again, and feeling quite
indignant and ill-used at the notion of anybody else making
love to one with whom he had never exchanged a word in all
his life. To be sure, he exaggerated rather than depreciated
the merits of his new acquaintance ; but still he took it as a
kind of personal offence that he should have any merits at all
— in the eyes of this particular j-oung lady, that is ; for else-
where he was quite welcome to have as many as he pleased.
There was undoubted selfishness 'in all this, and yet Nicholas
was of a most free and generous nature, with as few mean or
sordid thoughts, perhaps, as e\er fell to the lot of any man ;
and there is no reason to suppose that, being in love, he felt
and thought differently from other people in the like sublime
condition.
He did not stop to set on foot an inquiry into his train of
r^e NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
thought or state of feeling, however ; but went thinking on
all the way home, and continued to dream on in the same
strain all night. For, having satisfied himself that Frank
Cheeryble could have no knowledge of, or acquaintance with
the mysterious young lady, it began to occur to him that even
he himself might never see her again ; upon which hypothesis
he built up a very ingenious succession of tormenting ideas
which answered his purpose even better than the vision of
Mr. Frank Cheeryble, and tantalized and worried him, waking
and sleeping.
. Notwithstanding all that has been said and sung to the
contrary, there is no well-established case of morning having
either deferred or hastened its approach by the term of an
hour or so for the mere gratification of a splenetic feeling
against some unoffending lover ; the sun having, in the dis-
charge of his public duty, as the books of precedent report,
invariably risen according to the almanacs, and without
suffering himself to be swayed by any private considerations.
So, morning came as usual, and with it business-hours, and
with them Mr. Frank Cheeryble, and with him a long train of
smiles and welcomes from the worthy brothers, and a more
grave and clerk-like, but scarcely less hearty reception from
Mr. Timothy Linkinwater.
" That Mr. Frank and Mr. Nickleby should have met last
night," said Tim Linkinwater, getting slowly off his stool, and
looking round the counting-house with his back planted against
the desk, as was his custom when he had anything very par-
ticular to say: "that those two young men should have met
last night in that manner is, I say, a coincidence, a remark-
able coincidence. Why I don't believe now," added Tim,
taking off his spectacles, and smiling as with gentle pride,
" that there's such a place in all the world for coincidences as
London is ! "
" I don't know about that," said Mr. Frank ; "but "
" Don't know about it, Mr. Francis I " interrupted Tirn,
with an obstinate air. " Well, but let us know. If there is
any better place for such things, where is it ? Is it in Europe ?
No, that it isn't. Is it in Asia ? Why, of course it's not. Is
it in Africa ? Not a bit of it. Is it in America ? You know
better than that, at all events. Well, then," said Tim, folding
his arms resolutely, " where is it ? "
" I was not about to dispute the point, Tim," said young
Cheeryble, laughing. " I am not such a heretic as that. All
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 557
I was going to say was, that I hold myself under an obliga-
tion to the coincidence, that's all."
" Oh! if you don't dispute it," said Tim, quite satisfied,
" that's another thing. I'll tell you what though. I wish you
had. I wish you or anybody would. I would so put that
man down," sa'id Tim, tapping the forefinger of his left hand
i;mphatically with his spectacles, " so put that man down by
argument "
It was quite impossible to find language to express the
degree of mental prostration to which such an adventurous
wight would be reduced in the keen encounter with Tim
Linkinwater, so Tim gave up the rest of his declaration in
pure lack of words, and mounted his stool again.
" We may consider ourselves, brother Ned," said Charles,
after he had patted Tim Linkinwater approvingly on the back,
" very fortunate in having two such young men about us as
our nephew Frank and Mr. Nickleby. It should be a source
of great satisfaction and pleasure to us."
"Certainly, Charles, certainly," returned the other.
"Of Tim,'"' added brother Ned, " I say nothing whatever,
because Tim is a mere child — an infant — a nobody that we
never think of or take into account at all. Tim, you villain,
what do you say to that, sir ? "
" I am jealous of both of 'em," said Tim, " and mean to
look out for another situation • so provide yourselves, gentle-
men, if you please."
Tim thought this such an exquisite, unparalleled, and most
extraordinary joke, that he laid his pen upon the inkstand,
and rather tumbling off his stool than getting down with his
usual deliberation, laughed till he was quite faint, shaking his
head all the time so that little particles of powder flew palpa-
bly about the office. Nor were the brothers at all behind-
hand, for they laughed almost as heartily at the ludicrous idea
of any voluntary' separation between themselves and old Tim.
Nicholas and Mr. Frank laughed quite boisterously, perhaps
to conceal some other emotion awakened by this little inci-
dent, (and, so mdeed, did the three old fellows after the first
burst,) so perhaps there was as much keen enjoyment and
relish in that laugh altogether, as the politest assembly ever
derived from the most poignant witticism uttered at any one
person's expense.
" Mr. Nicklebv," said brother Charles, calling him aside,
and taking him kindly by the hand, " I— I am anxious, my
2^8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
dear sir, to see that you are properly and comfortably settled
in the cottage. We cannot allow those who sen-e us well, to
labor under any privation or discomfort that it is in our power
to remove. I wish, too, to see your mother and sister : to
know them, Mr. Nickleby, and have an opportunity of reliev-
ing their minds by assuring them that any trifling service we
have been able to do them is a great deal more than repaid
by the zeal and ardor you display. — Not a word, my dear sir,
I beg. To-morrow is Sunday. I shall make bold to come
out at tea-time, and take the chance of finding you at home ;
if you are not, you know, or the ladies should feel a delicacy
in being intruded on, and would rather not be known to me
just now, why I can come again another time, any other time
would do for me. Let it remain upon that understanding.
Brother Ned, my dear fellow, let me have a word with you
this way."
The twins went out of the office arm in arm, and Nicholas,
who saw in this act of kindness, and many others of which he
had been the subject that morning, only so many delicate re-
newals on the arrival of their nephew of the kind assurances
which the brothers had given him in his absence, could
scarcely feel sufficient admiration and gratitude for such ex-
traordinary consideration.
The intelligence that they were to have a visitor — and such
a visitor— next day, awakened in the breast of Mrs. Nickleby
mingled feelings of exultation and regret ; for whereas on the
one hand she liailed it as an omen of her speedy restoration
to good society and the almost-forgotten pleasures of morning
calls and e\ening tea-drinkings, she could not, on the other,
but reflect with Jntterness of spirit on the absence of a silver
teapot with an ivory knob on the lid, and a milk-jug to match,
wliich had been the pride of her heart in days of yore, and
had been kept from year's end to year's end wrapped up in
wash-leather on a certain top shelf which now presented itself
in lively colors to her sorrowing imagination.
" I wonder who's got that spice-box," said Mrs. Nickleby,
shaking her head. " It used to stand in the left-hand corner,
next but two to the pickled onions. You remember that
spice-box, Kate ? "
" Perfectly well, mama."
" I shouldn't think you did, Kate," returned Mrs. Nickleby,
in a severe manner, "talking about it in that cold and unfeel-
ing way ! If there is any one thing that vexes me in these
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^^g
losses more than the losses themselves, I do protest and de-
clare," said Mrs. Nickleby, rubbing her nose with an impas-
sioned air, " that it is to have people about me who take
things with such provoking calmness ! "
" My dear mama," said Kate, stealing her arm round her
mother's neck, " why do you say what I know you cannot
seriously mean or think, or why be angry with me for being
happy and content? You and Nicholas are left to me, we are
together once again, and what regard can I have for a few
trifling things of which we never feel the want ? When I have
seen all the misery and desolation that death can bring, and
known the lonesome feeling of being solitary and alone in
crowds, and all the agony of separation in grief and poverty
when we most needed comfort and support from each other,
can you wonder that I look upon this as a place of such deli-
cious quiet and rest, that with you beside me I have nothing
to wish for or regret ? There was a time, and not long since,
when all the comforts of our old home did come back upon
me, I own, ver)'- often — oftener than you would think perhaps
— but I affected to care nothing for them, in the hope that you
would so be brought to regret them less. I was not insensible,
indeed. I might have felt happier if I liad been. . Dear ma-
ma." said Kate, in great agitation, " I know no difference
between this home and that in which we were all so happy
for so many years, except that the kindest and gentlest heart
that ever ached on earth has passed in peace to heaven."
" Kate, my dear Kate ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, folding her
in her arms.
" I have so often thought," sobbed Kate, " of all his kind
words — of the last time he looked into my little room, as he
passed up stairs to bed, and said ' God bless you, darling.'
There was a paleness in his face, mama — tlie broken heart — •
I know it was — I little thought so — then — "
A gush of tears came to her relief, and Kate laid her head
upon her mother's breast, and wept like a little child.
It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature, that
when the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil hap-
piness or affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes
over it most powerfully and irresistibly. It would almost
seem as though our better thoughts and sympathies were
charms, in virtue of which the soul is enabled to hold some
vague and mvsterious intercourse with the spirits of those
whom we dearly loved in life. Alas ! how often and how long
560 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
may those patient angels hover above us, watching for the
sjDcll which is so seldom uttered, and so soon forgotten !
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, accustomed to give ready utterance
to whatever came uppermost in her mind, liad never conceived
the possibility of her daughter's dwelling upon these thoughts
in secret, the more especially as no hard trial or querulous
reproach had ever drawn them from her. But now, when the
happiness of all that Nicholas had just told them, and of their
new and peaceful life, brought these recollections so strongly
upon Kate that she could not suppress them, Mrs. Nickleby
began to have a glimmering that she had been rather thought-
less now and then, and was conscious of something like self-
reproach as she embraced her daughter, and yielded to the
emotions which such a conversation naturally awakened.
There was a mighty bustle that night, and a vast quantity
of preparation for the expected visitor, and a very large nose-
gay was brought from a gardener's hard by and cut up into a
number of very small ones with which .Mrs. Nickleby would
have garnished the little sitting-room, in a style that certainly
could not have failed to attract anybody's attention, if Kate
had not offered to spare her the trouble, and arranged them
in the prettiest and neatest manner possible. If the cottage
ever looked pretty, it must have been on such a bright and
sunshiny day as the next day was. But Smike's pride in the
srarden, or Mrs. Nicklebv's in the condition of the furniture,
or Ivate's in ever\'thing, was nothing to the pride with which
Nicholas looked at Kate herself ; and surely the costliest
mansion in all Elngland might have found in her beautiful face
and graceful form its most exquisite and peerless ornament.
About six o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Nickleby was
thrown into a great flutter of spirits by the long expected knock
at the door, nor was this flutter at all composed by the audible
tread of two pairs of boots in the passage, which Mrs. Nickleby
augured in a breathless state must be "the two Mr. Cheer)--
bles ;" as it certainly was, though not the two Mrs. Nickleby
expected, because it was Charles Cheeryble, and his nephew,
Mr. Frank, who made a thousand apologies for his intrusion,
which Mrs. Nickleby (having teaspoons enough and to spare
for all) most graciously received. Nor did the appearance of
this unexpected visitor occasion the least embarrassment
(save in Kate, and that only to the extent of a blush or two at
first), for the old gentleman was so kind and cordial, and the
young gentleman imitated him in this respect so well, that the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
S6l
usual stiffness and formality of a first meeting showed no signs
of appearing, and Kate really more than once detected herself
in the very act of wondering when it was going to begin.
At the tea-table there was plenty of conversation on a
great variety of subjects, nor were there wanting jocose
matters of discussion, such as they were ; for young Mr.
Cheeryble's recent stay in Germany happening to be alluded
to, old Mr. Cheeryble informed the company that the aforesaid
young Mr. Cheeryble was suspected to have fallen deeply in love
with the daughter of a certain German burgomaster. This ac-
cusation young Mr. Cheeryble most indignantly repelled, upon
which Mrs. Nickleby slyly remarked that she suspected from
the very warmth of the denial, there must be something in it.
Young Mr. Cheeryble then earnestly entreated old Mr. Cheery-
ble to confess that it was all a jest, which old Mr. Cheeryble
at last did, young Mr. Cheeryble being so much in earnest
about it, that — as Mrs. Nickleby said many thousand times
afterwards in recalling the scene — he "quite colored," which
she rightly considered a memorable circumstance, and one
worthy of remark, young men not being as a class remarkable
for modesty or self-denial, especially when there is a lady in
the case, when, if they color at all, it is rather their practice
to color the story, and not themselves.
After tea there was a walk in the garden, and the evening
being very fine they strolled out at the garden gate into some
lanes and by-roads, and sauntered up and down until it grew
quite dark. The time seemed to pass very quickly with all
the party. Kate went first, leaning upon her brother's arm,
and talking with him and Mr. Frank Cheeryble ; and Mrs.
Nickleby and the elder gentleman followed at a short distance,
the kindness of the good merchant, his interest in the welfare
of Nicholas, and his admiration of Kate, so operating upon
the good lady's feelings, that the usual current of her speech
was confined within very narrow and circumscribed limits.
Smike (who, if he had ever been an object of interest in his
life, had been one that day) accompanied them, joining some-
times one group and sometimes the other, as brother Charles,
laying his hand upon his shoulder, bade him walk with him, or
Nicholas, looking smilingly round, beckoned him to come and
talk with the old friend who understood him best, and who
could win a smile into his care-worn face when none else
could.
Pride is one of the seven deadly sins ; but it cannot be the
3^
562 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
pride of a mother in her children, for that is a compound of two
cardinal virtues — faith and hope. This was the pride which
swelled Mrs. Nickleby's heart that night, and this it was which
left upon her face, glistening in the light when they returned
home, traces of the most grateful tears she had ever shed.
There was a quiet mirth about the little supper, which
harmonized exactly with this tone of feeling, and at length the
two gentlemen took their leave. There was one circumstance
in the leave-taking which occasioned a vast deal of smiling
and pleasantry, and that was, that Mr. Frank Cheeryble
offered his hand to Kate twice over, quite forgetting that he
had bade her adieu already. This was held by the elder Mr.
Cheeryble to be a convincing proof that he was thinking of
his German flame, and the jest occasioned immense laughter.
So easy is it to move light hearts.
In short, it was a day of serene and tranquil happiness \
and as we all have some bright day — many of us, let us hope,
among a crowd of others — to which we revert with particular
delight, so this one was often looked back to afterwards, as
holding a conspicuous place in the calendar of those who
shared it.
Was there one exception, and that one he who needed to
have been most happy ?
Who was that who, in the silence of his own chamber, sunk
upon his knees to pray as his first friend had taught him, and
folding his hands and stretching them wildly, in the air, fell
upon his face in a passion of bitter grief t
CHAPTER XLIV.
MR. RALPH NICKLEBY CUTS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. IT WOULD
ALSO APPEAR FROM THE CONTENTS HEREOF, THAT A JOKE
EVEN BETWEEN HUSBAND AND WIFE, MAY BE SOMETIMES
CARRIED TOO FAR.
\ There are some men who, living with the one objci t of en-
riching themselves, no matter by what means, and being per-
fectly conscious of the baseness and rascality of the means
which they will use every day towards this end, affect never-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 563
theless — even to themselves — a high tone of moral rectitude
and sl.ake their heads and sigh over the depravity of the
world. Some of the craftiest scoundrels that ever walked this
earth, or rather — for walking implies, at least, an erect position
and the bearing of a man — that ever crawled and crept
through life by its dirtiest and narrowest ways, will gravely
jot down in diaries the events of every day, and keep a regular
debtor and creditor account with Heaven, which shall always
show a floating balance in their own favor. Whether this is a
gratuitous (the only gratuitous) part of the falsehood and
trickery of such men's lives, or whether they really hope to
cheat Heaven itself, and lay up treasure in the next world by
the same process which has enabled them to lay up treasure
in this — not to question how it is, so it is. And, doubtless,
such book-keeping (like certain autobiographies which have
enlightened the world) cannot fail to prove serviceable, in the
one respect of sparing the recording Angel some time and
labor.
Ralph Nickleby was not a man of this stamp. Stern, un-
yielding, dogged, and impenetrable, Ralph cared for nothing
in life, or beyond it, save the gratification of two passions :
avarice, the first and predominant appetite of his nature, and
hatrecT, the second. Affecting to consider himself but a type
of "airhumanity, he was at little pains to conceal his true
character from the world in general, and in his own heart he|
exulted over and cherished every bad design as it had birth.
The only scriptural admonition that Ralph Nickleby heeded,
in the letter, was "Know thyself." ' He knew himself well,
and choosing to imagine that all mankind were cast in the
same mould, hated Uiem ; for, though no man hates himself,
the"c6Idest among us having too much self-love for that, yet
most men unconsciously judge the world from themselves, and
it will be very generally found that those who sneer habitually
at human nature, and affect to despise it, are among its worst
and least pleasant samples.
~ — Buftlie present business of these adventures is with Ralph
himself, who stood regarding Newman Noggs with a hea\-y
frown, while that worthy took off his fingerless gloves, and,
spreading them carefully on the palm of his left hand, and
iiattening them with his right to take the creases out, pro-
ceeded to roll them up with an absent air, as if he were utterly
regardless of all things else, in the deep interest of the cere-
monial.
564 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Gone out of town ! " said Ralph, slowly, ' A mistake
of yours. Go back again."
"No mistake," returned Newman. "Not even going;
gone."
" Has he turned girl or baby ? " muttered Ralph, with a
fretful gesture.
" I don't know," said Newman, " but he's gone."
The repetition of the word, "gone," seemed to afford
Newman Noggs inexpi-essible delight, in proportion as it an-
noyed Ralph Nickleby. He uttered the word with a full
round emphasis, dwelling upon it as long as he decently could,
and when he could hold out no longer without attracting
observation, stood gasping it to himself, as if even that were
a satisfaction.
" And where has he gone ? " said Ralph.
" P'rance," replied Newman. " Danger of another attack
of erysipelas— a worse attack — in the head. So the doctors
ordered him off. And he's gone."
" And Lord Frederick ? " began Ralph.
" He's gone too," replied Newman.
" And he carries his drubbing with him, does he ! " said
Ralph, turning away ; " pockets his bruises, and sneaks off
without the retaliation of a word, or seeking the smallest
reparation ! "
" He's too ill," said Newman.
" Too ill ! " repeated Ralph. " Why /would have it if I
were dying ; in that case I would only be the more determined
to have it, and that without delay — I mean if I were he. But
he's too ill ! Poor Sir Mulberry ! Too ill ! "
Uttering these words with supreme contempt and great
irritation of manner, Ralph signed hastily to Newman to leave
the room ; and throwing himself into his chair, beat his foot
impatiently upon the ground.
" There is some spell about that boy," said Ralph, grind-
ing his teeth. " Circumstances conspire to help him. Talk
of fortune's favors ! What is even money to such Devil's
luck as this ! "
He thrust his hands impatiently into his pockets, but not-
withstanding his previous reflection there was some consola-
tion there, for his face rela.xed a little ; and although there
was still a deep frown upon the contracted brow, it was one
of calculation, and not of disappointment.
"This Hawk will come back, however," muttered Ralph 3
NICHOLAS KICKLEB Y. 565
" and if I know the man (and I should by tliis time) his
wrath will have lost nothing of its violence in the meanwhile.
Obliged to live in retirement — the monotony of a sick-room to
a man of his habits — no life — no drink — no play — nothing that
he likes and lives by. He is not likely to forget his obliga-
tions to the cause of all this. Few men would ; but he of all
others ? No, no ! "
He smiled and shook his head, and resting his chin upon
his hand, fell a musing, and smiled again. After a time he
rose and rang the bell.
" That Mr. Squeers ; has he been here ? " said Ralph.
" He was here last night. I left him here when I went
home," returned Newman.
" I know that, fool, do I not ? " said Ralph, irascibly.
" Has he been here since ? Was he here this morning ? "
" No," bawled Newman, in a very loud key.
" If he comes while I am out — he is pretty sure to be here
by nine to-night — let him wait. And if there's another man
with him, as there will be — perhaps," said Ralph, checking
himself, " let him wait too."
" Let 'em both wait ? " said Newman.
"Ay," replied Ralph, turning upon him with an angry
look. " Help me on with this spencer, and don't repeat after
me, like a croaking parrot."
" I wish I was a parrot," said Newman, sulkily.
" I wish you were," rejoined Ralph, drawing his spencer
on ; " I'd have wrung your neck long ago,"
Newman returned no answer to this compliment, but
looked over Ralph's shoulder for an instant, (he was adjust
ing the collar of the spencer behind, just then,) as if he were
strongly disposed to tweak him by the nose. Meeting Ralph's
eye, however, he suddenly recalled his wandering fingers, and
rubbed his "own red nose with a vehemence quite astonishing.
Bestowing no further notice upon his eccentric follower
than a threatening look, and an admonition to be careful and
make no mistake, Ralph took his hat and gloves, and walked
out.
He appeared to have a very extraordinary and miscel-
laneous connection, and very odd calls he made, some at
great rich houses, and some at small poor houses, but all upon
one subject : money. His face was a talisman to the porters
and servants of his more dashing clients, and procured him
ready admission, though he trudged on foot, and others, who
5G6
NICHOLAS XICKLEBY.
were denied, rattled to the door in carriages. Here, he was
all softness and cringing civility; his step so light, that it
scarcely produced a sound upon the thick carpets ; his voice
so soft that it was not audible beyond the person to whom it
was addressed. But in the poorer habitations Ralph was
another man ; his boots creaked on the passage floor as he
walked boldly in ; his voice was harsh and loud as he de-
manded the money that was overdue ; his threats were coarse
and angry. With another class of customers, Ralph was again
another man. These were attorneys of more than doubtful
reputation, who helped him to new business, or raised fresh
profits upon old. With them Ralph was familiar and jocose,
humorous upon the topics of the day, and especially pleasant
upon bankruptcies and pecuniary difficulties that made good
for trade. In short, it would have been difficult to have
recognized the same man under these various aspects, but
for the bulky leather case full of bills and notes which he
drew from his pocket at every house, and the constant repeti-
tion of the same complaint, (varied only in tone and style of
delivery), that the world thought him rich, and that perhaps
he might be if he had his own ; but that there was no getting
money in when it was once out, either principal or interest,
and it was a hard matter to live ; even to live from day to
day.
It was evening before a long round of such visits (inter-
rupted only by a scanty dinner at an eating-house) terminated
at Pimlico, and Ralph walked along St. James's Park, on his
way home.
There were some deep schemes in his head, as the puck-
ered brow and firmly-set mouth would have abundantly
testified, even if they had been unaccompanied by a complete
indifference to, or unconsciousness of, the objects about him.
So complete was his abstraction, however, that Ralph, usually
as quick-sighted as any man, did not observe that he was fol-
lowed by a shambling figure, which at one time stole behind
him with noiseless footsteps, at another crept a few paces
bcforo him, and at another glided along by his side ; at all
times regarding him with an eye so keen, and a look so eager
and attentive, that it was more like the expression of an in-
trusive face in some powerful picture or strongly marked
dream, than the scrutiny even of a most interested and
an.xious observer.
The sky had been lowering and dark for some time, and
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 567
the commencement of a violent storm of rain drove Ralph for
shelter to a tree. He was leaning against it with folded arms,
still buried in thought, when, happening to raise his eyes, he
suddenly met those of a man who, creeping round the trunk,
peered into his face with a searching look. There was some-
thing in the usurer's expression at the moment, which the
man appeared to remember well, for it decided him ; and
stepping close up to Ralph, he pronounced his name.
Astonished for the moment, Ralph fell back a couple of
paces and surveyed him from head to foot. A spare, dark,
withered man, of about his own age, with a stooping body,
and a very sinister face rendered more ill-favored by hollow
and hungr}' cheeks deeply sunburnt, and thick black eye-
brows, blacker in contrast with the perfect whiteness of his
hair ; roughly clothed in shabby garments, of a strange and
uncouth make ; and having about him an indefinable manner
of depression and degradation — this, for a moment, was all he
saw. But he looked again, and the face and person seemed
gradually to grow less strange, to change as he looked, to
subside and soften into lineaments that were familiar, until at
last they resolved themselves, as if by some strange optical illu-
sion, into those of one whom he had known for many years,
and forgotten and lost sight of for nearly as many more.
The man saw that the recognition was mutual, and
beckoning to Ralph to take his former place under the tree,
and not to stand in the falling rain — of w'hich, in his first
surprise, he had been quite regardless — addressed him in a
hoarse faint tone.
" You would hardly have known me from my voice, I sup-
pose, Mr. Nickleby ? " he said.
" No," returned Ralph, bending a severe look upon him.
" Though there is something in that, that I remember now."
" There is little in me that you can call to mind as having
been there eight years ago, I dare say ? " observed the other.
"Quite enough," said Ralph, carelessly, and averting his
face. " More than enough."
" If I had remained in doubt about you, Mr. Nickleby,"
said the other, "this reception, and jF^/^r manner, would have
decided me very soon."
" Did you expect any other?" asked Ralph, sharply.
" No ! " said the man.
"You were right," retorted Ralph ; "and as you feel no
surprise, need express none."
568 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Mr. Nickleby," said the man, bluntly, after a brief pause,
durina: which he had seemed to stru^firle with an inclination
to answer him by some reproach, " will you hear a few words
that I have to say ? "
" I am obliged to wait here till the rain holds a little,^'
said Ralph, looking abroad. " If you talk, sir, I shall not
put- my fingers in my ears, though your talking may have as
much effect as if I did."
" I was once in your confidence — ," thus his companion
began. Ralph looked round, and smiled involuntarily.
" Well," said the other, " as much in your confidence as
you ever chose to let anybody be."
" Ah ! " rejoined Ralph, folding his arms ; " that's another
thing, quite another thing."
" Don't let us play upon words, Mr. Nickleby, in the name
of humanity."
" Of what ? " said Ralph.
"Of humanity," replied the other, sternly. " I am hungry
and in want. If the change that you must see in me after so
long an absence — must see, for I, upon whom it has come by
slow and hard degrees, see it and know it well — will not move
you to pity, let the knowledge that bread — not the daily bread
of the Lord's Prayer, which, as it is offered up in cities like
this, is understood to include half the luxuries of the w'orld
for the rich, and just as much coarse food as will support life
for the poor — not that, but bread, a crust of dry hard bread,
is beyond my reach to-day — let that have some weight with
you, if nothing else has."
" If this is the usual form in which you beg, sir," said
Ralph, " you have studied your part well ; but if you will take
advice from one who knows something of the world and its
ways, I should recommend a lower tone ; a little lower tone,
or you stand a fair chance of being starved in good earnest."
As he said this, Ralph clenched his left wrist tightly with
his right hand, and inclining his head a little on one side and
dropping his chin upon his breast, looked at him whom he
addressed with a frowning, sullen face. The very picture of
a man whom nothing could move or soften.
" Yesterday was my first day in London," said the old
man, glancing at his travel-stained dress and worn shoes.
" It would have been better for you, I think, if it had been
your last also," replied Ralph.
" I have been seeking you these two days, where I thought
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^(5g
you were most likely to be found," resumed the other more
humbly, "and I met you here at last, when I had almost
given up the hope of encountering you, Mr. Nickleby."
He seemed to wait for some reply, but Ralph giving him
none, he continued :
" I am a most miserable and wretched outcast, nearly
sixty years old, and as destitute and helpless as a child of six."
" I am sixty years old, too," replied Ralph, " and am neither
destitute nor helpless. Work. Don't make fine play-acting-
speeches about bread, but earn it."
" How ? " cried the other. "Where ? Show me the means.
Will you give them to me ? "
" I did once," replied Ralph, composedly, " you scarcely
need ask me whether I will again."
" It's twenty years ago, or more," said the man, in a sup-
pressed voice, " since you and I fell out. You remember
that.? I claimed a share in the profits of some business I
brought to you, and, as I persisted, you arrested me for an
old advance of ten pounds, odd shillings, including interest at
fifty percerit.^qr so." -"««»«-,
" I fememSer something of it," replied Ralph, carelessly.
" What then .? "
" That didn't part us," said the man. " I made submission,
being on the wrong side of the bolts and bars ; and as you
were not the made man then that you are now, you were glad
enough to take back a clerk who wasn't over nice, and who
knew something of the trade you drove."
'"You begged and prayed, and I consented," returned
Ralph. " That was kind of me. Perhaps I did want you. I
forget. I should think I did, or you would have begged in
vain. You were useful ; not too honest, not too delicate^ not
too nice of hand or heart ; but useful."
^" Useful, indeed!" said the man. "Come. You had
pinchedand ground nie down for some years before that, but
Iliad served you faithfully up to that time, in spite of all
your dog's usage. Had I ? "
Ralph made no reply.
" Had 11 " said the man again.
" You had had your wages," rejoined Ralph, " and had
done your work. We stood on equal ground so far, and could
both cry quits."
" Then, but not afterwards," said the other.
" Not afterwards, certainly, nor even then, for (as you
S70
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
have just said) you owed me money^ and do still," replied
Ralph.
" That's not all," said the man, eagerly. *' That's not all.
Mark that. I didn't forget that old sore, trust me. Partly in
remembrance of that, and partly in the hope of making money
some day by the scheme, I took advantage of my position
about you, and possessed myself of a hold uponyou, which
you would give h aTf'oT^alt'^fSu.Th a^ye^ToH^^ never can
kiTO\v'bVit'throuoJi'^mer t left you — long after that time, re-
TTiember^and, for some poor trickery that came within the
law, but was nothing to what you money-makers daily practise
just outside its bounds, was sent away a convict for seven
years. I ha\'e returned what you see me. Now, Mr. Nickle-
by," said the man, with a strange mixture of humility and
sense of power, " what help and assistance will you give me ;
what bribe, to speak out plainly ? My expectations are not
monstrous, but I must live, and to live I must eat and drink.
Money is on your side, and hunger and thirst are on mine.
You may drive an easy bargain."
" Is that all 1 " said Ralph, still eyeing his companion
with the same steady look, and moving nothing but his lips.
" It depends on you, Mr. Nickleby, whether that's all or
not," was the rejoinder.
" Why then, harkye, Mr. , I don't know by what name
I am to call you," said Ralph.
" By my old one, if you like."
" Why, then, harkye, Mr. Brooker," said Ralph, in his
harshest accents, " and don't expect to draw another speech
from me. Harkye, sir. I know you of old for a ready
scoundrel ; but you never had a stout heart ; and hard work,
with (maybe) chains upon those legs of yours, and shorter food
than when I ' pinched ' and ' ground ' you, has blunted your
wits, or you would not come with such a tale as this to me.
You a hold upon me ! Keep it, or publish it to the world, if
you like." ' — —
■"'"I can't do that," interposed Brooker. "That wouldn't
serve me."
" Wouldn't it ? " said Ralph. " It will serve you as much
as bringing it to me, I promise you. To be plain with you, 1
am a careful man, and know my affairs thoroughly. I know
the world, and the world knows me. Whatever you gleaned,
or heard, or saw, when you ser\'ed me, the world knows and
magnifies already. You could tell it nothing that would sur-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
571
prise it, unless, indeed, it redounded to my credit or honor,
and then it would scout you for a liar. And yet 1 don't hnd
business slack, or clients scrupulous. Quite the contrary. I
am rp\n1pd or tl"'^^g^tened^everx.,4ay>.by...QPe man or another,"
said Ralph ; " but 'tilings roll on just the same, and I don't
growj^oon^r either."
neither revile nor threaten," rejoined the man. " I
can, tell _YOU of what you have lost by my act, what I only can_
TPffSre' and what, if I die without .restoring, dies with me, and
neveFcan be regained."
" I tell my money pretty accurately, and generally keep it
in my own custody," said Ralph. " I look sharply after most
men that I deal with, and most of all 1 looked sharply after
you. You are welcome to all what you have kept from me."
" Arc lliose of your own name dear to you ? " said the man
emphaiiciill)-. " if they are "
"They are not," returned Ralph, exasperated at this per-
severance, and the thought of Nicholas, which the last ques-
tion awakened. " They are not. If you had come as a
common beggar, I might have thrown a sixpence to you in
remembrance of the clever knave you used to be ; but since
you try to palm these stale tricks upon one you might have
known better, I'll not part with a halfpenny — nor would I to
save you from rotting. And remember this, 'scape-gallows,"
said Ralph, menacing him with his hand, "that if we meet
again, and you so much as notice me by one begging gesture,
you shall see the inside of a jail once more, and tighten this
hold upon me in intervals of the hard labor that vagabonds
are put to. There's my answer to your trash. Take it."
With a disdainful scowl at the object of his anger, who met
his eye but uttered not a word, Ralph walked away at his
usual pace, without manifesting the slightest curiosity to see
what became of his late companion, or indeed once looking
behind him. The man remained on the same spot with his
eyes fixed upon his retreating figure until it was lost to view,
and then drawing his arms about his chest, as if the damp and
lack of food struck coldly to him, lingered with slouching steps
by the wayside, and begged of those who passed along.
Ralph, in no-wise moved by what had lately passed,
further than as he had already expressed himself, walked de-
liberately on, and turning out of the Park and leaving Golden
Square on his right, took his way through some streets at the
west end of the town until he arrived in that particular one in
2 y 2 ^^J C HO LAS NICKLEB Y.
which stood the residence of Madame MantaUni. The name
of that lady no longer appeared on the tlaming door-plate, that
of Miss Knag being substituted in its stead ; but the bonnets
and dresses were still dimly visible in the first-floor windows
by the decaying light of a summer's evening, and excepting
this ostensible alteration in the proprietorship, the establish-
ment wore its old appearance.
" Humph ! " muttered Ralph, drawing his hand across his
mouth with a connoisseur-like air, and surveying the house
from top to bottom ; " these people look pretty well. They
can't last long ; but if I know of their going, in good time, I
am safe, and a fair profit too. I must keep them closely in
view ; that's all."
So, nodding his head very complacently, Ralph was
leaving the spot, when his quick ear caught the sound of a
confused noise and hubbub of voices, mingled with a great
running up and down stairs, in the very house which had been
the subject of his scrutiny ■ and while he was hesitating
whether to knock at the door or listen at the key-hole a little
longer, a female servant of Madame Mantalini's (whom he
had often seen) opened it abruptly and bounced out, with her
blue cap-ribands streaming in the air.
" Hallo here. Stop ! 'f cried Ralph. " What's the matter ?
Here am I. Didn't you hear me knock ? "
" Oh ! Mr. Nickleby, sir," said the girl. " Go up, for the
love of Gracious. Master's been and done it again."
" Done what ? " said Ralph, tartly, " what d'ye mean ? "
" I knew he would if he was drove to it," cried the girl.
" I said so all along."
" Come here, you silly wench," said Ralph, catching her
by the wrist ; " and don't carr}' family matters to the neigh-
bors, destroving the credit of the establishment. Come here ;
do you hear me, girl ? "
Without any further expostulation, he led or rather pulled
the frightened handmaid into the house, and shut the door ;
then bidding her walk up stairs before him, followed without
more ceremony.
Guided by'the noise of a great many voices all talking to-
gether, and passing the girl in his impatience, before they had
ascended many steps, Ralph quickly reached the private sitting
room, when he was rather amazed by the confused and inex-
plicable scene in which he suddenly found himself.
There were all the young-lady workers, some with bonnets
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. c 7 ^
and some without, in various attitudes expressive of alarm and
consternation ; some gathered round Madame Mantahni, wlio
was in tears upon one chair ; and others round Miss Knag,
who was in opposition tears upon another ; and others round
Mr. Mantahni, who was perhaps t'le most striking figure in
the whole group, for Mr. Mantalini's legs were extended at
full length upon the floor, and his head and shoulders were
supported by a very tall footman, who didn't seem to know
what to do with them, and Mr. Mantalini's eyes were closed,
and his face was pale, and his hair was comparatively straight,
and his whiskers and moustache were limp, and his teeth were
clenched, and he had a little bottle in his right-hand, and a little
tea-spoon in his left, and his hands, arms, legs, and shoulders,
were all stiff and powerless. And yet Madame Mantahni was
not weeping upon the body, but was scolding violently upon
her chair • and all this amidst a clamor of tongues, perfectly
deafening, and which really appeared to have driven the un-
fortunate footm.an to the utmost verge of distraction.
" What is the matter here .'' " said Ralph, pressing for-
ward.
At this inquiry, the clamor was increased twenty-fold, and
an astounding string of such shrill contradictions as " He's
poisoned himself " — " He hasn't " — "Send for a doctor" —
" Don't "— " He's dying "•-" He isn't, he's only pretending "
— with various other cries, poured forth with bewildering
volubiUty, until Madame Mantahni was seen to address her-
self to Ralph, when female curiosity to know what she would
say, prevailed, and, as if by general consent, a dead silence,
unbroken by a single whisper, instantaneously succeeded.
" Mr. Nickleby," said Madame Mantahni ; " by what
chance you came here, I don't know."
Here a gurgling voice was heard to ejaculate, as part of
the wanderings of a sick man, the words " Demnition sweet-
ness ! " But nobody heeded them except the footman, who,
being startled to hear such awful tones proceeding, as it were,
from between his very fingers, dropped his master's head
upon the floor with a prett}' loud crash, and then, without an
effort to lift it up, gazed upon the bystanders, as if he had
done something rather clever than otherwise.
''I will, howe\er," continued Madame Mantahni, drying
her eyes, and speaking with great indignation, " say before
you, and everybody here, for the first time, and once for all,
that I never will supply that man's extravagances and vicious-
574 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
ness again. I have been a dupe and a fool to him long
enough. In future, he shall support himself if he can, and
then he may spend what money lie pleases, upon whom and
how he pleases ; but it shall not be mine, and therefore you
had better pause before you trust him further."
Thereupon Madame Mantalini, quite unmoved by some
most pathetic lamentations on the part of her husband, that
the apothecary had not mixed the prussic acid strong enough,
and that he must take another bottle or two to finish the work
he had in hand, entered into a catalogue of that amiable gen-
tleman's gallantries, deceptions, extravagances, and infidelities
(especially the last), winding up with a protest against being
supposed to entertain the smallest remnant of regard for him ;
and adducing, in proof of the altered state of her affections,
the circumstance of his having poisoned himself in private no
less than six times within the last fortnight, and her not hav-
ing once interfered by word or deed to save his life.
" And I insist on being separated and left to myself," said
Madame Mantalini, sobbing. " If he dares to refuse me a
separation, I'll have one in law — I can — and I hope this will
be a warning to all girls who have seen this disgraceful ex-
hibition."
Miss Knag, who was unquestionably the oldest girl in
company, said with great solemnity, that it would be a warn-
ing to he)\ and so did the young ladies generally, with the ex-
ception of one or two who appeared to entertain doubts
whether such whiskers could do wrong.
" Why do you say all this before so many listeners ? " said
Ralph, in a low voice. " You know you are not in earnest."
" I am in earnest," replied Madame Mantalini, aloud, and
retreating toward Miss Knag.
"Well, but consider," reasoned Ralph, who had a great
interest in the matter. " It would be well to reflect. A mar-
ried woman has no property."
" Not a solitary single individual dem, my soul," said Mr.
Mantalini, raising himself upon his elbow.
" I am quite aware of that," retorted Madame Mantalini,
tossing her head, " and / have none. The business, the
stock, this house, and everything in it, all belong to Miss
Knag."
"That's quite true, Madame Mantalini," said Miss Knag,
with whom Iht late employer Jiad secretl}' come to an nmica-
ble underslantling on this point. " Very true, indeed, Mad-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 575
ame Mantalini — hem — very true. And I never was more glad
in all my life, that I had strength of mind to resist matrimo-
nial offers, no matter how advantageous, than I am when I
think of my present position as compared with your most un-
fortunate and most undeserved one, Madame Mantalini."
" Demmit ! " cried Mr. Mantalini, turning his head
towards his wife. " Will it not slap and pinch the envious
dowager, that dares to reflect upon its own delicious ? "
But the day of Mr. Mantalini's blandishments had de-
parted. " Miss Knag, sir," said his wife, " is my particular
friend ; " and although Mr. Mantalini leered till his eyes
seemed in danger of never coming back to their right places
again, Madame Mantalini showed no signs of softening.
To do the excellent Miss Knag justice, she had been
mainly instrumental in bringing about this altered state of
things, for, linding by daily experience, that there was no
chance of the business thriving, or even continuing to exist,
while Mr. Mantalini had any hand in the expenditure, and
having now a considerable interest in its well-doing, she had
sedulously applied herself to the investigation of some little
matters connected with that gentleman's private character,
which she had so well elucidated, and artfully imparted to
Madame Mantalini, as to open her eyes more effectually than
the closest and most philosophical reasoning could have done
in a series of years. To which end, the accidental discovery
by Miss Knag of some tender correspondence, in which Mad-
ame Mantalini was described as " old " and " ordinary'," had
most providentially contributed.
However, notwithstanding her firmness, Madame Man-
talini wept very piteously ; and as she leant upon Miss Knag,
and signed towards the door, that young lady and all the other
young ladies with sympathizing faces, proceeded to bear her
out.
" Nickleby," said Mr. Mantalini in tears, " you have been
made a witness to this demnhion cruelty, on the part of the
demdest enslaver and captivater that never was, oh dem ! 1
forgive that woman."
" Forgive ! " repeated Madame Mantalini, angrily.
" I do forgive her, Nickleby," said Mr. Mantalini. " You
will blame me, the world will blame me, the women will
blame me ; everybody will laugh, and scoff, and smile, and
grin most demnebly. They will say, ' She had a blessing.
She did not know it. He was too weak ; he was too good \ he
e ^5 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
was a dem'd fine fellow, but he loved too strong ; he could
not bear her to be cross, and call him wicked names. It was
a dem'd case, there never was a demder.' But I forgive her."
With this affecting speech Mr. Mantalini fell down again
very flat, and lay to all appearance without sense or motion,
until all the females had left the room, when he came cau-
tiously into a sitting posture, and confronted Ralph with a
very blank face, and the little bottle still in one hand and the
tea-spoon in the other.
" You may put away those fooleries now, and live by your
wits again," said Ralph, coolly putting on his hat.
" Demmit, Nickleby, you're not serious ? "
" I seldom joke," said Ralph. "Good-night."
" No, but Nickleby," said Mantalini.
" I am wrong, perhaps," rejoined Ralph. " I hope so.
You should know best. Good-night."
Affecting not to hear his entreaties that he would stay and
advise with him, Ralph left the crest-fallen Mr. Mantalini to
his meditations, and left the house quietly.
"Oho!" he said. "Sets the wind that way so soon?
Half knave and half fool, and detected in both characters ?
I think your day is over, sir."
As he said this, he made some memorandum in his pocket-
book in which Mr. Mantalini's name figured conspicuously,
and finding by his watch that it was between nine and ten
o'clock, made all speed home.
" Are they here ? " was the first question he asked of
Newman.
Newman nodded. " Been here half-an-hour."
" Two of them .? One a fat sleek man ? "
" Ay," said Newman. " In your room now."
" Good," rejoined Ralph. " Get me a coach."
"A coach! What you— going to— Eh ? " stammered
Newman.
Ralph angrily repeated his orders, and Noggs, who might
well have been excused for wondering at such an unusual and
extraordinary circumstance (for he had never seen Ralph in a
coach in his life), departed on his errand, and presently re-
turned with the conveyance.
Into it went Mr. Squeers, and Ralph, and the third
man, whom Newman Noggs had never seen. Newman stood
upon the door-step to see them off, not troubhng himself to
wonder wlierc or upon what business they were going, until
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
577
he chanced by mere accident to hear Ralph name the address
whither the coaciiman was to drive.
Quick as lightning and in a state of the most extreme
wonder, Newman darted into his little office for his hat, and
limped after the coach as if with the intention of getting up
behind ; but in this design he was balked, for it had too much
the start of him and was soon hopelessly ahead, leaving him
gaping in the empty street. "-*-
"I don't know though," said Noggs, stopping for breath,
" any good that I could have done by going too. He would
have seen me if I had. Drive there! What can come of
this ! If I had only known it yesterday I could have told —
drive there ! There's mischief in it. There must be."
His reflections were interrupted by a gray-haired man of
a very remarkable, though far from prepossessing appearance,
who, coming stealthily toward him, solicited relief.
Newman, still cogitating deeply, turned away ; but the
man followed him, and pressed him with such a tale of misery
that Newman (who might have been considered a hopeless
person to beg from, and who had little enough to give) looked
into his hat for some halfpence which he usually kept screwed
up, when he had any, in a corner of his pocket handkerchief.
While he was busily unt\visting the knot with his teeth,
the man said something which attracted his attention ; what-
ever that something was, it led to something else ; in the end
he and Newman walked away side by side — the strange man
talking earnestly, and Newman listening.
CHAPTER XLV.
CONTAINING MATTER OF A SURPRISING KIND.
" As we gang awa' fra' Lunnun to-morrow neeght, and as
I dinnot know that I was e'er so happy in a' my days, Misther
Nickleby, Ding ! but I will tak' anoother glass to our next
merry meeting ! "
So said John Browdie, rubbing his hands with great joy-
ousness, and looking round him with a ruddy shining face,
quite in keeping with the declaration,
37
578 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The time at which Jolm found liimself in this enviable
condition, was the same evening to which the last chapter
bore reference ; the place was the cottage ; and the assembled
company were Nicholas, Mrs. Nickleby, Mrs. Browdie, Kate
Nickleby, and Smike.
A very merry party they had been. Mrs. Nickleby, know-
ing of her son's obligations to the honest Yorkshireman, had,
after some dinner, yielded her consent to Mr. and Mrs.
Browdie being invited out to tea ; in the way of which ar-
rangement, there were at first sundry difficulties and obstacles,
arising out of her not having had an opportunity of " calling "
upon Mrs. Browdie first : for although Mrs. Nickleby very
often observed with much complacency (as most punctilious
people do), that she had not an atom of pride or formality
about her, still she was a great stickler for dignity and cere-
monies ; and as it was manifest that, until a call had been made,
she could not be (politely speaking, and according to the
laws of society) even cognizant of the fact of Mrs. Browdie's
existence, she felt her situation to be one of peculiar delicacy
and difficulty.
" The call must originate with me, my dear," said Mrs.
Nickleby, " that's indispensable. The fact is, my dear, that
it's necessary there should be a sort of condescension on my
part, and that I should show this young person that I am
willing to take notice of her. There's a very respectable-
looking young man," added Mrs. Nickleby, after a short
consideration, "who is conductor to one of the omnibuses
that go by here, and who wears a glazed hat — your sister and
I have noticed him very often — he has a wart upon his nose,
Kate, you know, exactly like a gentleman's servant."
" Have all gentlemen's servants warts upon their noses,
mother ? " asked Nicholas.
" Nicholas, my dear, how very absurd you are," returned
his mother • " of course I mean that his glazed hat looks like
a gentleman's servant, and not the wart upon his nose ;
though even that is not so ridiculous as it may seem to you,
for we had a footboy once, who had not only a wart, but a
wen also, and a very large wen too, and he demanded to
have his wages raised in consequence, because he found it
came very expensive. Let me see, what was I — oh yes, I
know. The best way that I can think of, would be to send a
card, and my compliments (I've no doubt he'd take 'em for
a pot of porter,) by this young man, to the Saracen with Two
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
579
Necks, If the waiter took him for a gentleman's servant, so
much the better. Then all Mrs. Browclie would have to do,
would be to send her card back by the earner (he could
easily come with a double knock), and ther; s an end of it."
" My dear mother," said Nicholas, " I don't suppose such
unsophisticated people as these ever had a card of their own,
or ever will have."
" Oh that, indeed, Nicholas, my dear," returned Mrs.
Nickleby, "that's another thing. If you put it upon that
ground, why of course, I have no more to say, than that I
have no doubt they are very good sort of persons, and that I
have no kind of objection to their coming here to tea if they
like, and shall make a point of being very civil to them if they
do."
The point being thus effectually set at rest, and Mrs.
Nickleby duly placed in the patronizing and mildly-condescend-
ing position which became her rank and matrimonial years,
Mr. and Mrs. Browdie were invited and came ; and as they
were very deferential to Mrs. Nickleby, and seemed to have a
becoming appreciation of her greatness, and were very much
pleased with everything, the good lady had more than once
given Kate to understand, in a whisper, that she thought they
were the very best-meaning people she had ever seen, and
perfectly well behaved.
And thus it came to pass, that John Browdie declared, in
the parlor after supper, to wit, at twenty minutes before eleven
o'clock, p. m., that he had never been so happy in all his
days.
Nor was Mrs. Browdie much behind her husband in this
respect, for that young matron, whose rustic beauty contrasted
very prettily with the more delicate loveliness of Kate, and
without suffering by the contrast either, for each served as it
were to set off and decorate the other, could not sufficiently
admire the gentle and winning manners of the young lady, or
the engaging affability of the elder. Then Kate had the art
of turning the conversation to subjects upon which the country
girl, bashful at first in strange company, could feel herself at
home ; and if Mrs. Nickleby was not quite so felicitous at
times in the selection of topics of discourse, or if she did seem,
as Mrs. Browdie expressed it, " rather high in her notions,"
still nothing could be kinder, and that she took considerable
interest in the young couple was manifest from the very long
lectures on housewifery with which she was so obliging as to
58o
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
entertain Mrs. Browdie's private ear, which were illustrated
by various references to the domestic econom}- of the cottage,
in which (those duties falling exclusively upon Kate) the good
lady had about as much share, either in theory or practice, as
any one of the statues of the Twelve Apostles which embellish
the exterior of St. Paul's Cathedral.
" Mr. Browdie," said Kate, addressing his young wife, " is
the best-humored, the kindest and heartiest creature 1 ever
saw. If I were oppressed with I don't know how many cares,
it would make me happy only to look at him."
" He does seem indeed, upon my word, a most excellent
creature, Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby ; "most excellent. And
I am sure that at all times it will give me pleasure — really
pleasure now — to have you, Mrs. Browdie, to see me in this
plain and homely manner. We make no display," said Mrs.
Nickleby, with an air which seemed to insinuate that they
could make a vast deal if they were so disposed ; " no fuss,
no preparation ; I wouldn't allow it. I said ' Kate, my dear,
you will only make Mrs. Browdie feel uncomfortable, and how
very foolish and inconsiderate that would be ! "
" I am very much obliged to you, I am sure, ma'am," re-
turned Mrs. Browdie, gratefully. " It's nearly eleven o'clock,
John. I am afraid we are keeping you up very late, ma'am."
" Late ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, with a sharp thin laugh,
and one little cough at the end, like a note of admiration ex-
pressed. "This is quite early for us. We used to keep such
hours 1 Twelve, one, two, three o'clock was nothing to us.
Balls, dinners, card-parties ! Never were such rakes as the
people about where we used to live. I often think now, I am
sure, that how we ever could go through with it is quite as-
tonishing, and that is just the evil of having a large connec-
tion and being a great deal sought after, which I would recom-
mend all young married people steadily to resist ; though of
course, and it's perfectly clear, and a ver}'' happy thing too, /
think, that very few young married people can be exposed to
such temptations. There was one family in particular, that
used to live about a mile from us — not straight down the road,
but turning sharp off to the left by the turnpike where the
Plymouth mail ran over the donkey — that were quite extraordi-
nary people for giving the most extravagant parties, with arti-
ficial flowers and champagne, and variegated lamps, and, in
short, every delicacy of eating and drinking that the most singu-
lar epicure could possibly require. I don't think there ever
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
S8i
were such people as those Peltiroguses. You remember the
Peltiroguses, Kate ? "
Kate saw that for the ease and comfort of the visitors it
was high time to stay this flood of recollection, so answered
that she entertained of the Peltiroguses a most vivid and dis-
tinct remembrance ; and then said that Mr. Browdie had half
promised, early in the evening, that he would sing a York-
shire song, and that she was most impatient that he should
redeem his promise, because she was sure it would afford her
mama more amusement and pleasure than it was possible to
express.
Mrs. Nickleby confirming her daughter with the best possi-
ble grace — for there was patronage in that too, and a kind of
implication that she had a discerning taste in such matters, and
was something of a critic — John Browdie proceeded to con-
sider the words of some north-country ditty, and to take his
wife's recollection respecting the same. This done, he made
divers ungainly movements in his chair, and singling out one
particular fly on the ceiling from the other flies there asleep,
fixed his eyes on him, and began to roar a meek sentiment
(supposed to be uttered by a gentle swain fast pining away
with love and despair) in a voice of thunder.
At the end of the first verse, as though -some person with-
out had waited until then to make himself audible, was heard
a loud and violent knocking at the street-door ; so loud and
so violent, indeed, that the ladies started as by one accord,
and John Browdie stopped.
" It must be some mistake," said Nicholas, carelessly,
"We know nobody who would come here at this hour,"
Mrs. Nickleby surmised, however, that perhaps the count-,
ing-house was burnt down, or perhaps ' Mr. Cheer)bles ' had
sent to take Nicholas into partnership (which certainly ap-
peared highly probable at that time of night), or perhaps Mr.
Linkinwater had run away with the property, or perhaps Miss
La Creevy was taken ill, or perhaps-
But a hasty exclamation from Kate stopped her abruptly
in her conjectures, and Ralph Nickleby walked into the room.
" Stay," said Ralph, as Nicholas rose, and Kate, making
her way towards him, threw herself upon his arm, " Before
that boy says a word, hear me."
Nicholas bit his lip and shook his head in a threatening
manner, but appeared for the moment unable to articulate a
syllable. Kate clung closer to his arm, Smike retreated, be-
582
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
hinc] them, and John Browdie, who had heard of Ralph, and ap-
peared to have no great difficuUy in recognizing him, stepped
between the old man and his young friend, as if with the inten-
tion of preventing either of them from advancing a step further.
" Hear me, I say," said Ralph, " and not him."
" Say what thou'st gotten to say then, sir," retorted John ;
" and tak' care thou dinnot put up angry bluid which thou'dst
betther try to quiet."
"I should know yoii,^'' said Ralph, "by your tongue; and
huti " (pointing to Smike) " by his looks."
" Don't speak to him," said Nicholas, recovering his voice.
" I will not have it. I will not hear him. I do not know that
man. I cannot breathe the air that he ^corrupts. His pres-
ence is an insult to my sister. It is shame to'see him. I will
not bear it."
" Stand ! " cried John, laying his heavy hand upon his
chest.
"Then let him instantly retire," said Nicholas, struggling.
" I am not going to lay hands upon him, but he shall with-
draw. I will not have him here. John, John Browdie, is this
my house, am I a child ? If he stands there," cried Nicholas,
burning with fury, " looking so calmly upon those who know
his black and dastardly heart, he'll drive me mad."
To all these exclamations John Browdie answered not a
word, but he retained his hold upon Nicholas ; and when he
was silent again, spoke. i
"There's more to say and hear than thou think'st for,"
said John. " I tell'ee I ha' gotten scent o' thot already.
Wa'at be that shadow ootside door there ? Noo school-
measther, show thyself, mun ; dinnot be sheame-feaced. Noo,
auld gen'l'man, let's have schoolmeasther, coom."
Hearing this adjuration, Mr. Squeers, who had been lin-
gering in the passage until such time as it should be expedient
for him to enter and he could appear with effect, was fain to
present himself in a somewhat undignified and sneaking way ;
at which John Browdie laughed with such keen and heartfelt
delight, that even Kate, in all the pain, anxiety and surprise
of the scene, and though the tears were in her eyes, felt a dis-
position to join him.
" Have you done enjoying yourself, sir ? " said Ralph at
length.
*• Pratty nigh for the prasant time, sir," replied John.
I can wait," saifl Ralph, " Take your own time, pray."
II
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
583
Ralph waited until there was a perfect silence, and then
turning to Mrs. Nickleby, but directing an eager glance at
Kate, as if more anxious to watch his effect upon her, said :
" Now, ma'am, listen to me. I don't imagine that you
were a party to a ver)' fine tirade of words sent me by that
boy of yours, because I don't believe that under his control,
you have the slightest will of your owrs or that your advice,
your opinion, your wants, your wishes, anything which in
nature and reason (or of what use is your great experience ?)
ought to weigh with him, has the slightest influence or weight
whatever, or is taken for a moment into account."
Mrs. Nickleby shook her head and sighed, as if there were
a good deal in that, certainly.
" For this reason," resumed Ralph, " I address myself to
you, ma'am. For this reason, partly, and partly because I do
not wish to be disgraced by the acts of a vicious stripling
whom / was obliged to disown, and who, afterwards, in his
boyish majesty feigns to — ha ! ha ! — to disown me, I present
myself here to night. I have another motive in coming : a
motive of humanity. I come here," said Ralph, looking
round with a biting and triumphant smile, and gloating and
dwelling upon the words as if he were loath to lose the pleas-
ure of saying them, " to restore a parent his child. Ay, sir,"
he continued, bending eagerly forward, and addressing Nicho-
las, as he marked the change of his countenance, " to restore
a parent his child ; his son, sir ; trepanned, waylaid, and
guarded at every turn by you, with the base design of robbing
him some day of any little wretched pittance of which he
might become possessed."
" In that, you know you lie," said Nicholas, proudly.
" In this, I know I speak the truth. I have his father
here," retorted Ralph.
" Here ! " sneered Squeers, stepping forward. " Do you
hear that.? Here! Didn't I tell you to be careful that his
father didn't turn up, and send him back to me ? Why, his
ianier*s my friend ; he's to come back to me directly, he is.
Now, what do you say — eh ! — now — come — what do you say
to that — an't you sorry you took so much trouble for nothing ?
an't you ? an't you } "
" You bear upon your body certain marks I gave you,"
said Nicholas, looking quietly away, " and may talk in ac-
knowledgment of them as much as you please. You'll talk a
long time before you rub them out, Mr. Squeers."
584
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The estimable gentleman last named, cast a hasty look at
the table, as if he were prompted by this retort to throw a jug
or bottle at the head of Nicholas ; but he was interrupted in
this design (if such design he had) by Ralph, who, touching
him on the elbow, bade him tell the father that he might now
appear and claim his son.
This being purely a labor of love, Mr. Squeers readily
complied, and leaving the room for the purpose, almost im-
mediately returned, supporting a sleek personage with an oily
face, who, bursting from him, and giving to view the form and
face of Mr. Snawley, made straight up to Smike, and tucking
that poor fellow's head under his arm in a most uncouth and
awkward embrace, elevated his broad-brimmed hat at arm's
length in the air as a token of devout thanksgiving, exclaim-
ing, meanwhile : " How little did I think of this here joyful
meeting, when I saw him last ! Oh, how little did I think it ! "
" Be composed, sir," said Ralph, with a gruff expression
of sympathy ; " you have got him now."
I " Got him ! Oh, haven't I got him ! Have I got him,
/ though ? " cried Mr. Snawley, scarcely able to believe it.
[ " Yes, here he is, flesh and blood, flesh and blood."
/ "Vary little flesh," said John Browdie.
I Mr. Snawley was too much occupied by his parental feel-
\ ings to notice this remark ; and, to assure himself rriore com-
pletely of the restoration of his child, tucked his head under
his arm again, and kept it there.
*■•**- " What was it," said Snawley, " that made me take such a
strong interest in him, when that worthy instructor of youth
brought him to my house t What was it that made me burn
all over with a wish to chastise him severely for cutting away
from his best friends, his pastors and masters ? "
"It was parental instinct, sir," observed Squeers.
" That's what it was, sir," rejoined Snawley ; " the elevated
feeling, the feeling of the ancient Romans and Grecians, and
of the beasts of the field and birds of the air, with the excep-
tion of rabbits and tom-cats, which sometimes devour their
offspring. My heart yearned towards him. I could have — •
I don't know what I couldn't liave done to him in the anger
of a father."
" It only shows what Natur is, sir," said Mr. Squeers.
" She's arum 'un, is Natur."
" STie is a holy thing, sir," remarked Snawley.
" I believe you," added Mr. Squeers, with a moral sigh.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
585
*' I should like to know how we should ever get on without
her. Natur," said Mr. Squeers, solemnly, " is more easier
conceived than described. Oh what a blessed thing, sir, to
be in a state of natur ! "
Pending this philosophical discourse, the bystanders had
been quite stupefied with amazement, while Nicholas had
looked keenly from Snawley to Squeers, and from Squeers to
Ralph, divided between his feelings of clisgust, doubt, and sur-
prise. At this juncture, Smike escaping from his father fled
to Nicholas, and implored him, in most moving terms, never
to give him up, but to let him live and die beside him.
''Ifyou arc this bny's father," said-NieholttS'," " look at the
wreck Jie_]is, aiul lull nic thai yuu purpose tosend him back to
that loathsome clcn from which I brousht him."
^~*^candal again ! " cried Squeers. " Recollect ! You an't
worth powder and shot, but Til be even with you one way or
another."
" Stop," said Ralph, as' Snawley was about to speak. " Let
us cut this matter short, and not bandy words here with hair-
brained profligates. This is your son, as you can prove. And'
you, Mi\"^ileers, you know this boy to be the same that was
with you for so many years under the name of Smike. Do you ? "
" Do I ! " returned Squeers. " Don't I .?"
" Good," said Ralph ; " a very few words will be sufficient
here. You had a son by your first wife, Mr. Snawley .?"
"I had," replied that person, "and there he stands."
" We'll show that presently," said Ralph. " You and your
wife were separated, and she had the boy to live with her,
when he was a year old. You received a communication from
her, when you had lived apart a year or two, that the boy was
dead ; and you believed it ? "
" Of course I did ! " said Snawley. " Oh the joy of "
"Be rational, sir, pray," said Ralph. "Jhis is'business,
and transports interfere with it. This wife died a year and a
half ago, or thereabout — not more — in some obscure place,
where she was housekeeper in a family. Is that the case.? "
"That's the case," replied Snawley.
"Having written on her death-bed a letter or confession to
you, about this very boy, which, as it was not directed other-
wise than in your name, only reached you, and that by a cir-
cuitous course, a few days since ? "
" Just so," said Snawley. " Correct in every particular,
sir."
586 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
"And this confession," resumed Ralph, " is to the effect
that his death was an invention of hers to wound you — was a
part of a system of annoyance, in short, which you seem to
have adopted towards each other — that the boy Uved, but was
of weak imperfect intellect — that she sent him by a trusty
hand to a cheap school in Yorkshire — that she had paid for
his education for some years, and then, being poor, and going
a long way off, gradually deserted him, for which she prayed
forgiveness ? "
Snawley nodded his head, and wiped his eyes ; the first,
slightly ; the last, violently.
"The school was Mr. Squeers's," continued Ralph ; "the
boy was left there in the name of Smike ; every description
was fully given, dates tally exactly with Mr. Squeers's books,
Mr. Squeers is lodging with you at this time ; you have two
other boys at his school : you communicated the whole dis-
covery to him, he brought you to me as the person who had
recommended to him the kidnapper of his child ; and I
brought you here. Is that so ? "
" You talk like a good book, sir, that's got nothing in its
inside but what's the truth," replied Snawley.
" This is your pocket-book," said Ralph, producing one
from his coat ; " the certificates of your first marriage and of
the boy's birth, and your wife's two letters, and every other
paper that can support these statements directly or by impli-
cation, are here, are they .'' "
"Every one of 'em, sir."
" And you don't object to their being looked at here, so
that these people may be convinced of your power to substan-
tiate your claim at once in law and reason, and you may re-
sume your control over your own son without more delay. Do
I understand you ? "
" I couldn't have understood myself better, sir."
"There then," .said Ralph, tossing the pocket book upon
the table. " Let them see them if they like ; and as those are
the original papers, I should recommend you to stand near
while they are being examined, or you may chance to lose
some."
With these words Ralph sat down unbidden, and com-
pressing his lips, which were for the moment slightly parted
by a smile, folded his arms, and looked for the first time at
his nephew.
Nicholas, stung by the concluding taunt, darted an indig-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^87
nant glance at him ; but commanding himself as well as he
could, entered upon a close examination of the documents, at
which John Browdie assisted. There was nothing about them
which could be called in question. The certificates were reg-
ularly signed as extracts from the parish books, the first letter
had a genuine appearance of having been written and pre-
served for some years, the handwriting of the second tallied
with it exactly (making proper allowance for its having been
written by a person in extremity,) and there were several other
corroboratory scraps of entries and memoranda which it was
equally difficult to question.
" Dear Nicholas," whispered Kate, who had been looking
anxiously over his shoulder, " can this be really the case ? Is
this statement true ? "
" I fear it is," answered Nicholas. " What say you,
John ?"
John scratched his head and shook it, but said nothins: at
all.
" You will observe, ma'am," said Ralph, addressing himself
to Mrs. Nickleby, " that this boy being a minor and not of
strong mind, we might have come here to-night, armed with
the powers of the law, and backed by a troop of its mymiidons.
I should have done so, ma'am, unquestionably, but for my
regard for the feelings of yourself, and your daughter."
" You have shown your regard for her feelings well," said
Nicholas, drawing his sister towards him.
"Thank you," replied Ralph. "Your praise, sir, is com-
mendation, indeed." ~— v,..^~,«.,.™^~-~.
"Well," said Squeers, "what's to be done ? Them hack-
ney-coach horses will catch cold if we don't think of moving ;
there's one of 'em a sneezing now, so that he blows the street
door right open. What's the order of the day? Is Master
Snawley to come along with us .-* "
"No, no, no," replied Smike, drawing back, and clinging
to Nicholas. "Ko. Pray, no. I will not go from you with
him. No, no."
" This is a cruel thing," said Snawley, looking to his
friends for support. "Do parents bring children into the
world for this .-• "
" Do parents bring children into the world for tJiof ? " said
John Browdie bluntly, pointing, as he spoke, to Squeers.
" Never you mind," retorted that gentleman, tapping his
nose derisively.
58S NICHOLAS AVCh'LEBV.
"Never I mind?" said John. "No, nor never nobody
mind, say'st thou, schoohiieasther. " It's nobody's minding
that keeps sike men as thou afloat. Noo then, where be'st
thou coomin' to.-' Dang it, dinnot coom treadin' ower me,
mun."
Suiting the action to the word, John Browdie just jerked his
elbow into the chest of Mr. Squeers, who was advancing upon
Smike, with so much dexterity that the schoolmaster reeled
and staggered back upon Ralph Nicklebv. and, being unable
to recover his balance, knocked that gentleman off his chair,
and stumbled heavily upon him.
This accidental circumstance was the signal for some very
decisive proceedings. In the midst of a great noise, occa-
sioned by the prayers and entreaties of Smike, the cries and
exclamations of the women, and the vehemence of the men,
demonstrations were made of carrving off the lost son bv
violence. Squeers had actually begun to haul him out, when
Nicholas (who, until then, had been evidently undecided how
to act) took him by the collar, and shaking him so that such
teeth as he had, chattered in his head, politely escorted him
to the room door, and thrusting him into the passage, shut it
upon him.
" Now," said Nicholas, to the other two, "have the kind-
ness to follow your friend."
" I want my son," said Snawley.
" Your soi>," replied Nicholas, "chooses for himself. He
chooses" to remain here, and he shall." — " ''""'
■»"Yotf won't give him up? " said Snawley.
" I would not give him up aeainst his will, to be the vic-
itim of such bruta_Uty,as.. that to \\fecTiy5ir would consign him,"
replied Isri^IToTas, " if he were a dog or a rat."
" Knock that Nickleby down with a candlestick," cried Mr.
Squeers, through the keyhole, " and bring out my hat, some-
body, will you, unless he wants to steal it."
" I am very sorry, indeed," said Mrs. Nickleby, who, with
Mrs. Browdie, had stood crying and biting her fingers in a
corner, while Kate (very pale, but perfectly quiet) had kept
as near to her brother as she could. " I am very sorry, indeed,
for all this. I really don't know what would be best to do,
and that's the truth. Nicholas ought to be the best judge,
and I hope he is. Of course, it's a hard thing to have to
keep other people's children, though young Mr. Snawley is
certainly as useful and willing as it's possible for anybody to
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. ^gg
be ; but, if it could be settled in any friendly manner — if old
Mr. Snawley, for instance, would settle to pay something
certain for his board and lodging, and some fair arrangement
was come to, so that we undertook to have fish twice a-week,
and a pudding twice, or a dumpling, or something of that
sort — I do think that it might be very satisfactory and pleasant
for all parties."
This compromise, which was proposed with abundance of
tears and sighs, not exactly meeting the point at issue, nobody
took any notice of it ; poor Mrs. Nickleby accordingly pro-
ceeded to enlighten Mrs. Browdie upon the ad^'antages of
such a scheme, and the unhappy results flowing, on all oc-
casions, from her not being attended to when she proffered
her advice.
"You, sir," said Snawley, addressing the terrified Smike,
" are an unnatural, ungrateful, unlovable boy. You won't let
me love you when I want to. Won't you come home, won't
you .? "
"No, no, no," cried Smike, shrinking back.
" He never loved nobody," bawled Squeers, through the
keyhole. " He never loved me ; he never loved Wackford,
who is next door but one to a cherubim. How can you
expect that he'll love his father ? He'll never love his father,
he won't. He don't know what it is to have a father. He
don't understand it. It ain't in him."
Mr. Snawley looked steadfastly at his son for a full minute,
and then covering his eyes with his hand, and once more
raising his hat in the air, appeared deeply occupied ia deplor-
ing his black ingratitude. Then drawing his arm across his
eyes, he picked up Mr. Squeers's hat, and taking it under
one arm, and his own under the other, walked slowly and
sadly out.
"Your romance, sir," said Ralph, lingering for a moment,
" is destroyed, I take it. No unknown ; no persecuted de-
scendant of a man of high degree ; the weak imbecile son of
a poor petty tradesman. We shall see how your sympathy
melts before plain matter of fact."
" You shall," said Nicholas, motioning towards the door.
" And trust me, sir," added Ralph, " that I never supposed
you would give him up to-night. Pride, obstinacy, reputation
for fine feeling, were all against ifT" These must be brought
down, sirj^lowered, crushed, as they shall be soon. The
'protracted and wearing anxiety and expense of the law in its
J go NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
most oppressive form, its torture from hour to hour, its weary
days and sleepless nights, with these I'll prove you, and
break your haughty spirit, strong as you deem it now. And
wTien you make this house a hell, and visit these trials _u£on_
yonder wretched object (as you will, I know you), and those
who think you now a young-fledged hero, we'll go into old
accounts between us two, and see who stands the debtor, and
comes out best at last, even before the world."
Ralph Nickleby withdrew. But Mr. Squeers, who had
heard a portion of this closing address, and was by this time
wound up to a pitch of impotent malignity almost unprece-
dented, could not refrain from returning to the parlor-door,
and actually cutting some dozen capers with various wry faces
and hideous grimaces, expressive of his triumphant confidence
in the dcHvnfall and defeat of Nicholas.
Having concluded this war dance, in which his short
trousers and large boots had borne a very conspicuous figure,
Mr. Squeers followed his friends, and the family were left to
meditate upon recent occurrences
CHAPTER XLVI.
THROWS SOME LIGHT UPON NICHOLAS S LOVE ; BUT WHETHER
FOR GOOD OR EVIL, THE READER MUST DETERMINE.
After an anxious consideration of the painful and em-
barrassing position in which he was placed, Nicholas decided
that he ought to lose no time in frankly stating it to the kind
brothers. Availing himself of the first opportunity of being
alone with Mr. Charles Cheeryble at the close of next da}^,
he accordingly related Smike's little history, and modestly
but firmly expressed his hope that the good old gentleman
would, under such circumstances as he described, hold him
justified in adopting the extreme course of interfering between
parent and child, and upholding the latter in his disobedi-
ence ; even though his horror and dread of his father might
seem, and would doubtless be represented as, a thing so re-
pulsive and unnatural, as to render those who countenanced
him in it, fit objects of general detestation and abhorrence.
NICHOLAS NJCKLEBY. ^gi
" So deeply-rooted does this horror of the man appear to
be," said Nicholas, " that I can hardly believe he really is his
son. Nature does not seem to have implanted in his breast
one lingering feeling of affection for him, and surely she can
never err."
" My dear sir," replied brother Charles, " you fall into the
very common mistake, of charging upon Nature, matters with
which she has not the smallest connection, and for which she
is in no way responsible. Men* talk of nature as an abstract
thing, and lose sight of what is -natural while ■ they do so.
Here is a poor lad who has never felt a parent's care, who
has scarcely known anything all his life but suffering and sor-
row, presented to a man who he is told is his father, and
whose first act is to signify his intention of putting an end to
his short term of happiness of consigning him to his old fate,
and taking him from the only friend he has ever had — which
is yourself. If Nature, in such a case, put into that lad's
breast but one secret prompting which urged him towards his
father and away from you, she would be a liar and an idiot."
Nicholas was delighted to find that the old gentleman
spoke so warmly, and in the hope that he might say something
more to the same purpose, made no reply,
" The same mistake presents itself to me, in one shape or
other, at every turn," said brother Charles. "Parents who
never showed their love, complain of want of natural affection
in their children ; children who never showed their duty, com-
plain of want of natural feeling in their parents ; law-makers
who find both so miserable that their affections have never
had enough of life's sun to develop them, are loud in their
moralizings over parents and children too, and cry that the
very ties of nature are disregarded. Natural affections and
instincts, my dear sir, are the most beautiful of the Almighty's
works, but like other beautiful works of His, they must be
reared and fostered, or it is as natural that they should be
wholly obscured, and that new feelings should usurp their
place, as it is that the sweetest productions of the earth, left
untended, should be choked with weeds and briars. I wish
we could be brought to consider this, and, remembering
natural obligations a little more at the right time, talk about
them a little less at the wrong one."
After this, brother Charles, who had talked himself into a
great heat, stopped to cool a little, and then continued :
" I daresay you are surprised, my dear sir, that I have
r^ 9 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
listened to your recital with so little astonishment. That is
easily explained. Your uncle has been here this morning."
Nicholas colored, and drew back a step or two.
"Yes," said the old gentleman, tapping his desk emphati-
cally, " here, in this room. He would listen neither to reason,
feeling, nor justice. But brother Ned was hard upon him ;
brother Ned, sir, might have melted a paving-stone."
" He came to " said Nicholas.
"To complain of you," •returned brother Charles, "to
poison our ears with calummies and falsehoods ; but he came
on a fruitless errand, and went away with some wholesome
truths in his ear besides. Brother Ned, my dear Mr. Nickle-
by — brother Ned, sir, is a perfect lion. So is Tim Linkin-
water ; Tim is quite a lion. We had Tim in to face him at
first, and Tim was at him, sir, before you could say 'Jack
Robinson.' "
" How can I ever thank you, for all the deep obligations
you impose upon me every day ? " said Nicholas.
" By keeping silence upon the subject, my dear sir,"
returned brother Charles. " You shall be righted. At least
you shall not be wronged. Nobody belonging to you shall be
wronged. They shall not hurt a hair of your head, or the
boy's head, or your mother's head, or your sister's head.
I have said it, brother Ned has said it, Tim Linkinwater
has said it. We have all said it, and we'll all do it. I
have seen the father — if he is the father — and I suppose he
must be. He is a barbarian and a hypocrite, Mr. Nickleby.
I told him, ' You are a barbarian, sir.' I did. I said, 'You're
a barbarian, sir.' And Tm glad of it, I am very glad I told
him he was a barbarian, very glad, indeed ! "
By this time brother Charles was in such a very warm
state of indignation, that Nicholas thought he might venture
to put in a word ; but the moment he essayed to do so, Mr.
Cheer^'ble laid his hand softly upon his arm, and pointed to
a chair.
" The subject is at an end for the present," said the old
gentleman, wiping his face. " Don't revive it by a single
word. I am going to speak upon another subject, a confi-
dential subject, Mr. Nickleby. We must be cool again, we
must be cool."
After two or three turns across the room he resumed his
seat, and drawing his chair nearer to that on which Nicholas
was seated, said :
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. < 593
" I am about to employ you, my dear sir, on a confidential
and delicate mission."
" You might employ many a more able messenger, sir,"
said Nicholas, " but a more trustworthy or zealous one, I may
be bold to say you could not find."
" Of that I am well assured," returned brother Charles,
" well assured. You will give me credit for thinking so, when
I tell you, that the object of thisjnis.§iQjLis„a_y.oung lady." „...-
•' A youiTgTacly, sir ! " cried Nicholas, quite trembling for
the moment with his eagerness to hear more.
" A very beautiful young lady," said Mr. Cheeryble,
gravely.
" Pray go on, sir," returned Nicholas.
" I am thinking how to do so," said brother Charles ; sadly,
as it seemed to his young friend, and with an expression allied
to pain. " You accidentally saw a young lady in this room one
morning, my dear sir, in a fainting fit. Do you remember .''
Perhaps you have forgotten."
" Oh no," replied Nicholas, hurriedly. "I — I — remember
it very well indeed."
" She is the lady I speak of," said brother Charles. Like
the famous parrot, Nicholas thought a great deal, but was
unable to utter a word.
''She is the daughter," said Mr. Cheeryble, "of a lady
who, when she was a beautiful girl herself, and I was very
many years younger, I — it seems a strange word for me to
utter now — I loved very dearly. You will smile, perhaps, to
hear a gray-headed man talk about such things. You will not
offend me, for when I was as young as you, I dare say I
should have done the same."
" I have no such inclination, indeed," said Nicholas.
" My dear brother Ned," continued Mr. Cheeryble, "was
to have married her sister, but she died. She is dead too now,
and has been for many years. She married her choice, and
I wish I could add that her after-life was as happy, as God
knows I ever prayed it might be ! "
A short silence intervened, which Nicholas made no effort
to break.
" If trial and calamity had fallen as lightly on his head, as
in the deepest truth of my own heart 1 ever hoped (for her
sake) it would, his life would have been one of peace and
happiness," said the old gentleman, calmly. " It will be
enough to say that this was not the case ; that she was not
38
594
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
happy ; that they fell into complicated distresses and diffi-
culties ; that she came, twelve months before her death, to
appeal to my old friendship ; sadly changed, sadly altered,
broken-spirited from suffering and ill-usage, and almost bro-
ken-hearted. He readily availed himself of the money which,
to give her but one hour's peace of mind, I would have poured
out as freely as water — nay, he often sent her back for more
— and yet, even while he squandered it, he made the very
success of these, her applications to me, the groundwork of
cruel taunts and jeers, protesting that he knew she thought
with bitter remorse of the choice she had made, that she had
married him from moti\'es of interest and vanity (he was a
gay young man with great friends about him when she chose
him for her husband), and venting in short upon her, by every
unjust and unkind means, the bitterness of that ruin and
disappointment which had been brought about by his prof-
ligacy alone. In those times this young lady was a mere
child. I never saw her again until that morning when you
saw her also, but my nephew, Frank "
?Jicholas started, and indistinctly apologizing for the in-
terruption, begged his patron to proceed.
" My nephew, Frank, I say," resumed Mr. Cheer}'ble,
" encountered her by accident, and lost sight of her almost
in a minute afterwards, within two days after he returned to
England. Her father lay in some secret place to avoid his
creditors, reduced, between sickness and povert}', to the verge
of death, and she, a child, — we might almost think, if we did
not know the wisdom of all Heaven's decrees — who should
have blessed a better man, was steadily braving privation,
degradation, and everything most terrible to such a young and
delicate creature's heart, for the purpose of supporting him.
She was attended, sir," said brother Charles, '* in these re-
verses, by one faithful creatui'e, who had been, in old times,
a poor kitchen wench in the family, who was then their soli-
taiy servant, but who might have been for the trutli and
fidelity of her heart — who might have been — ah ! the wife of
Tim Linkinwater himself, sir ! "
Pursuing this encomium upon the poor follower with such
energy and relish as no words can describe, brother Charles
leant back in his chair, and delivered the remainder of his
relation with greater composure.
It was in substance this : That proudlv resisting all offers
of permanent aid and support from her late mother's friends,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
595
because they were made conditional upon her quitting the
wretched man, her father, who had no friends left, and shrink-
ing with instinctive delicacy from appealing in their behalf to
that true and noble heart which he hated, and had, through
its greatest and purest goodness, deeply wronged by miscon-
struction and ill report, this young girl had struggled alone
^and unassisted to maintain him by the labor of her hands.
\ That through the utmost depths of poverty and affliction she
Had toiled, never turning aside for an instant from her task,
never wearied by the petulant gloom of a sick man, sustained
by no consoling recollections of the past or hopes of the future ;
never repining for the comforts she had reiected, or bewailing
the hard lot she had voluntarily incurredJ That every little
accomplishment she had acquired in happier days had been
put into requisition for this purpose, and directed to this one
end. That for two long years, toiling by day and often too
by night, working at the needle, the pencil, and the pen, and
submitting, as a daily governess, to such caprices and indig-
nities as women (with daughters too) too often love to inflict
upon their own sex when they serve in such capacities, as
though in jealousy of the superior intelligence which they are
necessitated to employ, — indignities, in ninety-nine cases out
of every hundred, heaped upon persons immeasurably and
incalculably their betters, but outweighing in comparison any
that the most heartless blackleg would put upon his groom-
that for two long years, by dint of laboring in all these capaci-
ties and wearyuig in none, she had not succeeded in the sole
aim and object of her life, but that, overwhelmed by accumu-
lated difficulties and disappointments, she had been compelled
to seek out her mother's old friend, and, with a bursting heart,
to confide in him at last.
" If I had been poor," said brother Charles, with spark-
ling eyes ; "if I had been poor, Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir,
which thank God I am not, I would have denied myself (of
course anybody would under such circumstances) the com
monest necessaries of life, to help her. As it is, the task is a
difficult one. If her father were dead, nothing could be easier,
for then she should share and cheer the happiest home thai
brother Ned and I could have, as if she were our child or
sister. But he is still ali\-e. Nobody can help him ; that
has been tried a thousand times \ he was not abandoned by
all without good cause, I know."
" Cannot she be persuaded to " Nicholas hesitated
when he had got thus far.
596
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
"To leave him?" said brother Charles. "Who could
entreat a child to desert her parent ? Such entreaties, limited
to her seeing him occasionally, have been urged upon her — •
not by me — but always with the same result."
."Is he kind to her?" said Nicholas. "Does he requite
her affection ? "
" True kindness, considerate self-denying kindness, is not
in his nature," returned Mr. Cheeryble. " Such kindness as
he knows, he regards her with, I believe. The mother was a
gentle, loving, confiding creature, and although he wounded
her from their marriage until her death as cruelly and wantonly
as ever man did, she never ceased to lo\ e him. She com-
mended him on her death-bed to her child's care. Her child
has never forgotten it, and never will."
" Have you no influence over him ? " asked Nicholas.
" I, my dear sir ? The last man in the world. Such is
his jealousy and hatred of me, that if he knew his daughter
had opened her heart to me, he would render her life miser-
able with his reproaches ; although — this is the inconsistency
and selfishness of his character — although if he knew that
every penny she had, came from me, he would not relinquish
one personal desire that the most reckless expenditure of her
scanty stock could gratify."
" An unnatural scoundrel-! " said Nicholas, indignantly.
"We will use no harsh terms," said brother Charles, in a
gentle voice ; " but will accommodate ourselves to the cir-
cumstances in which this young lady is placed. Such assist-
ance as I have prevailed upon her to accept, I have been
obliged, at her own earnest request^ to dole out in the smallest
portions, lest he, finding how easily money was procured,
should squander it even more lightly than he is accustomed
to do. She has come to and fro, to and fro, secretly and by
night, to take even this ; and I cannot bear that things should
go on in this way, Mr. Nickleby, I really cannot bear it."
Then it came out by little and little, how that the twins
had been revolving in their good old heads, manifold plans
and schemes for helping this young lady in the most delicate
and considerate way, and so that her father should not sus-
pect the source whence the aid was derived ; and how they
had at last come to the conclusion, that the best course
would be to make a feint of purchasing her little drawings
and ornamental work, at a high price, and keeping up a con-
stant demand for the same. For the furtherance of which
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 557
end and object it was necessary that somebody should rep-
resent the dealer in such commodities, and after great de-
liberation they had pitched upon Nicholas to support this
character.
" He knows me," said brother Charles, " and he knows
my brother Ned. Neither of us would do. Frank is a very
good fellow — a very fine fellow — but we are afraid that he
might be a little flighty and thoughtless in such a delicate
matter, and that he might, perhaps — that he might, in short,
be too susceptible (for she is a beautiful creature, sir, just what
her poor mother was), and, falling in love with her before he
well knew his own mind, carry pain and sorrow into that inno-
cent breast, which we would be the humble instruments of
gradually making happy. He took an extraordinary interest
in her fortunes when he first happened to encounter her. And
we gather from the inquiries we had made of him, that it was
she in whose behalf he made that turmoil which led to your
first acquaintance."
Nicholas stammered out that he had before suspected the
possibility of such a thing ; and in explanation of its ha\-ing
occurred to him, he described when and where he had seen
the young lady herself.
" Well ; then you see," continued brother Charles, " that
//if wouldn't do. Tim Linkinwater is out of the question; for
Tim, sir, is such a tremendous fellow, that he could never
contain himself, but would go to loggerheads with the
father before he had been in the place five minutes. You
don't know what Tim is, sir, when he is roused by anything
that appeals to his feelings very strongly ; then he is terrific,
sir, is Tim Linkinwater, absolutely terrific. Now, in you we
can repose the strictest confidence ; in you we have seen — or
at least /have seen, and that's the same thing, for there's no
difference between me and my brother Ned, except that he is
the finest creature that ever lived, and that there is not and
ne\-er will be anybody like him in all the world — in you we
have seen domestic virtues and affections, and delicacy of
feeling, which exactly qualify, you for such an office. And
you are the man, sir."
"The young lady, sir," said Nicholas, who felt so embar-
rassed that he had no small difficulty in saying anvthing at all
— "Does — is — is she a party to this innocent deceit ? "
"Yes, yes," returned Mr. Cheeryble ; " at least she knows
you come from us ; she does not know, howe\er, but that we
598
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
shall dispose of these little productions which you'll purchase
from time to time ; and, perhaps, if 3'OU did it very well (that
is, very well indeed), perhaps she might be brought to believe
that we — that we made a profit of them. Eh ? Eh ? "
In this guileless and most kind simplicity, brother Charles
w-as so happy, and in this possibility of the young lady being
led to think that she was under no obligation to him, he evi-
dently felt so sanguine and had so much delight, that Nicho-
las would not breathe a doubt upon the subject.
All this time, however, there hovered upon the tip of his
tongue a confession that the very same objections which Mr.
Cheeryble had stated to the employment of his nephew in this
commission applied with at least equal force and validity to
himself, and a hundred times had he been upon the point of
avowing the real state of his feelings, and entreating to be re-
leased from it. But as often, treading upon the heels of this
impulse, came another which urged him to refrain, and to
keep his secret to his own breast. " Why should I," thought
Nicholas, " why should I throw difficulties in the way of this
benevolent and hifjh-minded design } What if I do love and
reverence this good and lovely creature. Should I not ap-
pear a most arrogant and shallow coxcomb if I gravely rep-
resented that there was any danger of her falling in love
with me ? Besides, have I no confidence in myself ? Am I
not now bound in honor to repress these thoughts .-' Has not
this excellent man a right to my best and heartiest services,
and should any considerations of self deter me from render-
ing them ? "
Asking himself such questions as these, Nicholas mentally
answered with great emphasis " No ! " and persuading him-
self that he was a most conscientious and glorious martyr,
nobly resolved to do Avhat, if he had examined his own heart
a little more carefully, he would have found he could not re-
sist. Such is the sleight of hand by which we juggle with
ourselves, and change our very weaknesses into most magnan-
imous virtues !
Mr. Cheeryble, being of course wholly unsuspicious that
such reflections were presenting themselves to his young
friend, proceeded to give him the needful credentials and di-
rections for his first visit, which was to be made next morn-
ing; all preliminaries being arranged, and the strictest secrecy
enjoined, Nicholas walked home for the night very thought-
fully indeed.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
599
The place to which Mr. Cheen'ble had directed him was a
row of mean and not over-cleanly houses, situated within " the
Rules " of the King's Bench Prison, and not many hundred
paces distant from the obelisk in Saint George's Fields. The
Rules are a certain liberty adjoining the prison, and compris-
ing some dozen streets in which debtors who can raise money
to pay large fees, from which their creditors do not derive any
benefit, are permitted to reside by the wise provisions of the
same enliirhtened laws which leave the debtor who can raise
no money to starve in jail, without the food, clothing, lodging
or warmth which are provided for felons convicted of the most
atrocious crimes that can disgrace humanity. There are many
pleasant fictions of the law in constant operation, but there is
not one so pleasant or practically humorous as that which
supposes every man to be of equal value in its impartial eye,
and the benefits of all laws to be equally attainable by all
men, without the smallest reference to the furniture of their
pockets.
To the row of houses indicated to him by Mr. Charles
Cheeryble, Nicholas directed his steps, without much troub-
ling his head with such matters as these ; and at this row of
houses — after traversing a very dirty and dusty suburb, of
which minor theatricals, shell-fish, ginger-beer, spring vans,
green-grocer)', and brokers' shops, appeared to compose the
main and most prominent features — he at length arrived with
a palpitating heart. There were small gardens in front which,
being wholly neglected in all other respects, served as little
pens for the dust to collect in, until the wind came round the
corner and blew it down the road. Opening the rickety gate
which, dangling on its broken hinges before one of these, half
admitted and half repulsed the visitor, Nicholas knocked at
the street door with a faltering hand.
It was in truth a shabby house outside, with very dim par-
lor windows and very small show of blinds, and very dirty
muslin curtains dangling across the lower panes on very loose
and limp strings. Neither, when the door was opened, did
the inside appear to belie the outward promise, as there was
faded carpeting on the stairs and faded oil-cloth in the pas-
sage ; in addition to which discomforts a gentleman Ruler
was smoking hard in the front parlor (though it was not yet
noon), while the lady of the house was busily engaged in tur-
pentining the disjointed fragments of a tent-bedstead at the
door of the back parlor, as if in preparation for the reception
6oo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
of some new lodger who had been fortunate enough to en«.
gage it.
Nicholas had ample time to make these observations while
the little boy, who went on errands for the lodgers, clattered
down the kitchen stairs and was heard to scream, as in some
remote cellar, for Miss Bray's servant. Who, presently ap-
pearing and requesting him to follow her, caused him to
evince greater symptoms of nervousness and disorder than so
natural a consequence of his ha\ing inquired for that young
lady would seem calculated to occasion.
Up stairs he went, however, and into a front room he. was
shown, and there, seated at a little table by the window, on
which were drawing materials with which she was occupied,
sat the beautiful girl who had so engrossed his thoughts, and
who, surrounded by all the new and strong interest which
Nicholas attached to her story, seemed now, in his eyes, a
thousand times more beautiful than he had ever yet supposed
her.
But how the graces and elegances which she had dis-
persed about the poorly-furnished room, went to the heart of
Nicholas ! Flowers, plants, birds, the harp, the old piano
whose notes had sounded so much sweeter in by-gone times ;
how many struggles had it cost her to keep these two last links
of that broken chain which bound her yet to home ! With every
slender ornament, the occupation of her leisure hours, replete
with that graceful charm which lingers in every little tasteful
work of woman's hands, how much patient endurance and how
many gentle affections were entwined ! He felt as though the
smile of Heaven were on the little chamber ; as though the
beautiful devotion of so young and weak a creature, had shed
a ray of its own on the inanimate things around, and made them
beautiful as itself ; as though the halo with which old painters
surround the bright angels of a sinless world, played about a
being akin in spirit to them, and its light were visibly before
him.
And yet Nicholas was in the Rules of the King's Bench
Prison ! If he had been in Italy indeed, and the time had
been sunset, and the scene a stately terrace ! But, there is
one broad sky over all the world, and, whether it be blue or
cloudy, the same Heaven beyond it; so, perhaps, he had no
need of compunction for thinking as he did.
It is not to be supposed that he took in everything at one
glance, for he had as yet been unconscious of the presence of
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 60 1
a sick man propped up with pillows in an easy chair, who
moving restlessly and impatiently in his seat, attracted his at-
tention.
He was scarce fifty, perhaps, but so emaciated as to appear
much older. His features presented the remains of a hand-
some countenance, but one in which the embers of strong and
impetuous passions were easier to be traced than any expres-
sion which would have rendered a far plainer face much more
prepossessing. His looks were very haggard, and his limbs and
body literally worn to the bone, but there was something of the
old fire in the large sunken eye notwithstanding, and it seemed
to kindle afresh as he struck a thick stick, with which he
seemed to have supported himself in his seat, impatiently on
the floor twice or thrice, and called his daughter by her name.
" Madeline, who is this ? What does anybody want here ?
Who told a stranger we could be seen ? What is it ? "
" I believe— — -" the young lady began, as she inclined
her head with an air of some confusion, in reply to the salu-
tation of Nicholas.
" You always believe," returned her father, petulantly.
" What is it .? "
By this time Nicholas had recovered sufficient presence of
mind to speak for himself, so he said (as it had been agreed
he should say) that he had called about a pair of hand-screens,
and some painted velvet for an ottoman, both of which were
required to be of the most elegant design possible, neither
time nor expense being of the smallest consideration. He
had also to pay for the two drawings, with many thanks, and,
advancing to the little table, he laid upon it a bank note,
folded in an envelope and sealed.
" See that the money is right, Madeline," said the father.
"Open the paper my dear."
" It's quite right, papa, I'm sure."
" Here ! " said Mr. Bray, putting out his hand, and opening
and shutting his bony fingers with irritable impatience. " Let
me see. What are you talking about, Madeline ? You're sure .>*
How can you be sure of any such thing ? Five pounds — well,
is that right ? "
" Quite," said Madeline, bending over him. She was so
busily employed in arranging the pillows that Nicholas could
not see her face, but as she stooped he thought he saw a tear
fall.
" Ring the bell, ring the bell," said the sick man, with the
6o2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
same nervous eagerness, and motioning towards it with such
a quivering hand that the bank note rustled in the air.
" Tell her to get it changed, to get a newspaper, to buy me
some grapes, another bottle of the wine that I had last week' — ■
and — and — I forget half I want just now, but she can go out
again. Let her get those first, those first. Now, Madeline,
my love, quick, quick ! Good God, how slow you are ! "
. " He remembers nothing that she wants ! " thought Nich-
olas. Perhaps something of what he thought was expressed
in his countenance, for the sick man turning towards him
with great asperity, demanded to know if he waited for a re-
ceipt ?
" It is no matter at all," said Nicholas.
" No matter ! What do you mean, sir ? " was the tart re-
joinder. " No matter ! Do you think you bring your paltry
money here as a favor or a gift ; or as a matter of business, and
in return for value received ? D — n you, sir, because you can't
appreciate the time and taste which are bestowed upon the
goods you deal in, do you think you give your money away ?
Do you know that you are talking to a gentleman, sir, who at
one time could have bought up fifty such men as you and all
you have ? What do you mean ? "
" I merely mean that, as I shall have many dealings with
this lady, if she will kindly allow me, I will not trouble her
with such forms," said Nicholas.
"Then /mean, if you please, that we'll have as many
forms as we can," returned the father. "My daughter, sir,
requires no kindness from you or anybody else. Have the
goodness to confine your dealings strictly to trade and business,
and not to travel beyond it. Every petty tradesman is to be-
gin to pity her now, is he ? Upon my soul ! Very pretty,
Madeline, my dear, give him a receipt ; and mind you always
do so."
While she was feigning to write it, and Nicholas was rumi-
nating upon the extraordinary but by no means uncommon
character thus presented to his observation, the invalid, who
appeared at times to suffer great bodily pain, sank back in his
chair and moaned out a feeble complaint that the girl had
been gone an hour, and that everybody conspired to goad him.
" When," said Nicholas, as he took the piece of paper,
" when shall I call again ? "
This was addressed to the daughter, but the father an-
swered immediately.
"NO matter! do you bring your paltry money here as a favor
N.N,
OR A GIFT ? "— /*a^,? 602.
^
./
\
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
603
" When you're requested to call, sir, and not before.
Don't worry and persecute. Madeline, my dear, when is this
person to call again ? "
" Oh, not for a long time, not for three or four weeks ; it is
not necessary, indeed ; lean do without," said the young lady,
with great eagerness.
" Why, how are we to do without ? " urged her father not
speaking above his breath. " Three or four weeks, Madeline !
Three or four weeks ! "
"Then sooner, sooner, if you please," said the young lady,
turning to Nicholas.
" Three or four weeks ! " muttered the father. " Madeline
what on earth — do nothing for three or four weeks ! "
" It is a long time, ma'am," said Nicholas.
" You thnik so, do you t " retorted the father, angrily. " If
I chose to beg, sir, and stoop to ask assistance from people I
despise, three or four months would not be a long time ; three
or four years would not be a long time. Understand sir, that
is if I chose to be dependent ; but as I don't, you may call in
a week."
Nicholas bowed low to the young lady and retired, pon-
dering upon Mr. Bray's ideas of independence, and devoutly
hoping that there might be few such independent spirits as he
mingling with the baser clay of humanity.
He heard a light footstep above him as he descended the
stairs. Looking round, he saw that the young lady was stand-
ing there, and, glancing timidly towards him, seemed to hesi-
tate whether she should call him back or no. The best way
of settling the question was to turn back at once, which Nich-
olas did.
" I don't know whether I do right in asking you, sir," said
Madeline, hurriedly, " but pray, pray, do not mention to my
poor mother's dear friends what has passed here to-day. He
has suffered much, and is worse this morning. I beg you, sir,
as a boon, a favor to myself."
" You have but to hint a wish," returned Nicholas, fer-
vently, "and I would hazard my life to gratify it."
" You speak hastily, sir."
"Truly and sincerely," rejoined Nicholas, his lips trem-
bling as he formed the words, " if ever man spoke truly yet.
I am not skilled in disguising my feelings, and, if I were, I
could not hide my heart from you. Dear madam, as I know
your history, and feel as men and angels must who hear and
6o4 NICHOLAS NTCKLEB V.
see such things, I do entreat you to believe that I would die
to serve you."
The young lady turned away her head, and was j^lainly
weeping.
" Forgive me," said Nicholas, with respectful earnestness,
" if I seem to say too much or to presume upon the confidence
which has been entrusted to me. But I could not leave you as
if my interest and sympathy expired with the commission of the
day. I am your faithful servant, humbly devoted to you from
this hour, devoted in strict truth and honor to him who sent
me here, and in pure integrity of heart, and distant respect
for you. If I meant more or less than this, I should be un-
worthy his regard, and false to the nature that prompts the
honest words I utter."
She waved her hand, entreating him to be gone, but an-
swered not a word. Nicholas could say no more, and silently
withdrew. And thus ended his first interview with Madeline
Bray.
CHAPTER XLVII.
MR. RALPH NICKLEBY HAS SOME CONFIDENTIAL INTERCOURSE
WITH ANOTHER OLD FRIEND. THEY CONCERT BETWEEN
THEM A PROJECT, WHICH PROMISES WELL FOR BOTH,
" There go the three quarters past 1 " muttered Newman
Noggs, listening to the chimes of some neighboring church,
" and my dinner time's two. He does it on purpose. He
makes a point of it. It's just like him."
It was in his own little den of an office and on the top
of his official stool that Newman thus soliloquized ; and the
soliloquy referred, as Newman's grumbling soliloquies usually
did, to Ralpli Nickleby.
" I don't believe he ever had an appetite," said Newman,
"except for pounds, shillings, and pence, and with them he's
as greedy as a wolf. I should like to have him compelled to
swallow one of every English coin. The penny would be an
awkward morsel — but the crown — ha ! ha ! "
His good humor being in some degree restored by the vis-
ion of Ralph Nickleby swallowing, perforce, a five-shilling
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 605
piece. Newman slowly brought forth from his desk one of those
portable bottles, currently known as pocket-pistols, and shak-
ing the same close to his ear so as to produce a rippling sound
very cool and pleasant to listen to, suffered his features to
relax, and took a gurgling drink, which relaxed them still
more. Replacing the cork he smacked his lips twice or
thrice with an* air of great relish, and, the taste of the liquor
having by this time evaporated, recurred to his grievances
again.
" Five minutes to three," growled Newman, "it can't want
more by this time ; and I had my breakfast at eight o'clock,
and such a breakfast ! and my right dinner time is two ! And I
might have a nice little bit of hot roast meat spoiling at home
all this time — how does he know I haven't ! ! ' Don't go till I
come back,' ' Don't go till I come back,' day after day. What
do you always go out at my dinner time for then — eh ? Don't
you know it's nothing but aggravation — eh ? "
These words, though uttered in a very loud key, were ad-
dressed to nothing but empty air. The recital of his wrongs,
however, seemed to have the effect of making Newman Noggs
desperate ; for he flattened his old hat upon his head, and
drawing on the everlasting gloves, declared with great vehe-
mence, that come what might, he would go to dinner that very
minute.
Carrying this resolution into instant effect, he had ad-
vanced as far as the passage, when the sound of the latch-key
in the street door caused him to make a precipitate retreat into
his own office agam.
" Here he is," growled Newman, " and somebody with him.
Now it'll be ' Stop till this gentleman's gone.' But I won't.
That's flat."
So saying, Newman slipped into a tall empty closet which
opened with two half doors, and shut himself up ; intending
to slip out directly Ralph was safe inside his own room.
" Noggs ! " cried Ralph. " Where is that fellow Noggs ? "
But not a word said Newman.
" The dog has gone to his dinner, though I told him not,"
muttered Ralph, looking into the office and pulling out his
watch. "Humph! You had better come in here. Gride. My
man's out, and the sun is hot upon my room. This is cool
and in the shade, if you don't mind roughing it."
" Not at all, Mr. Nickleby, oh not at all All places are
alike to me, sir. Ah ! ver)' nice indeed. Oh ! very nice ! "
5o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
The person who made this reply was a little old man, of
about seventy or seventy-five years of age, of a very lean figure,
much bent, and slightly twisted. He wore a gray coat with
a very narrow collar, an old-fashioned waistcoat of ribbed
black silk, and such scanty trousers as displayed his shrunken
spindle-shanks in their full ugliness. The only articles of
display or ornament in his dress, were a steel watch-chain to
which were attached some large gold seals : and a black ribbon
into which, in compliance with an old fashion scarcely ever
observed in these days, his gray hair was gathered behind.
His nose and chin were sharp and prominent, his jaws had
fallen inwards from loss of teeth, his face was shrivelled and
yellow, save where the cheeks were streaked with the color of
a dry winter apple ; and where his beard had been, there lin-
gered yet a few gray tufts which seemed, like the ragged eye-
brows, to denote the badness of the soil from which they
sprung. The whole air and attitude of the fonn, was one of
stealthy cat-like obsequiousness ; the whole expression of the
fac^^as concentrated in a wrinkled leer, compounded of^un-
ning, lecherousness, slynessT^afTd avaricer'
'"""""Such was old Arthur Gride, in whose face there was not a
wrinkle, in whose dress there was not one spare fold or plait,
but expressed the most covetous and griping penury, and
sufficiently indicated his belonging to that class of which Ralph
Nickleby was a member. Such was old Arthur Gride, as he
sat in a low chair looking up into the face of Ralph Nickleby,
who, lounging on the tall office stool, with his arms upon his
knees, looked down into his ; a match for him, on whatever
errand he had come.
" And how have you been ? " said Gride, feigning great in-
terest in Ralph's state of health. " I haven't seen you for —
oh ! not for — "
" Not for a long time," said Ralph, with a peculiar smile,
importing that he very well knew it was not on a mere visit of
compliment that his friend had come. " It was a narrow
chance that you saw me now, for 1 had only just come up to
the door as you txirned the corner."
" I am very lucky," observed Gride.
*' So men say," replied Ralph, dryly.
The older money-lender wagged his chin and smiled, but
he originated no new remark, and they sat for some little lime
without speaking. Each was looking out to take the other at
a disadvantage.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 607
"Come, Gride," said Ralph at length; "what's in the
wind to-day ? "
"Aha! you're a bold man, Mr. Nickleby," cried the other,
apparently very much relieved by Ralph's leading the way to
business. " Oh dear, dear, what a bold man you are ! "
" Why you have a sleek and slinking way with you that
makes me seem so by contrast," returned Ralph. " I don't
know but that yours may answer better, but 1 want the pa-
tience for it."
" You were born a genius, Mr. Nickleby," said old Arthur.
" Deep, deep, deep. Ah ! "
" Deep enough," retorted Ralph, " to know that I shall
need all the depth I have, when men like you begin to com-
pliment. You know I have stood by when you fawned and
flattered other people, and I remember pretty well what fkai
always led to."
" Ha, ha, ha ! " rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. " So
you do, so you do, no doubt. Not a man knows it better.
Well, it's a pleasant thing now to think that you remember
old times. Oh dear ! "
" Now then," said Ralph, composedly : " what's in the
wind, I ask again. What is it ? "
" See that now ! " cried the other. " He can't even keep
from business -^hile we're chatting over by-gones. Oh, dear,
dear, what a man it is ! "
" Which of the by-gones do you want to revive ? " said
Ralph. " One of them I know, or you wouldn't talk about
them."
" He suspects even me ! " cried old Arthur, holding up
his hands. " Even me ! Oh dear, even me. What a man it
is ! Ha, ha, ha ! What a man it is ! Mr. Nickleby against
all the world. There's nobody like him. A giant among pig-
mies, a giant, a giant ! "
Ralph looked at the old dog with a quiet smile as he
chuckled on in this strain, and Newman Noggs in the closet
felt his heart sink within him as the prospect of dinner grew
fainter and fainter.
"I must humor him though," cried old Arthur; "he
must have his way — a wilful man, as the Scotch say — well,
well, they're a wise people, the Scotch. He will talk about
business, and won't give away his time for nothing. He's
very right. Time is inone\', lime is mnnc\'.''
—■ ^ He was one of us who made that saying, I should think,"
6o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
said Ralph. " Time is money, and very good money too, to
those who reckon interest by it. Time is money ! Yes, and
lime costs money ; it's rather an expensive article to some
people we could name, or I forget my trade."
In rejoinder to this sally, old Arthur again raised his
hands, again chuckled, and again ejaculated. " What a man
it is ! " which done, he dragged the low chair a little nearer
to Ralph's high stool, and looking upwards into his immova-
ble face, said,
" What would you say to me, if I was to tell you that I
was — that I was — going to be married 1 "
"I should tell you," replied Ralph, looking coldly down
upon him, " that for some purpose of your own you told a lie,
and that it wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last ;
that I wasn't surprised, and wasn't to be taken in."
" Then I tell you seriously that I am," said old Arthur.
" And /tell you seriously," rejoined Ralph, "what I told
you this minute. Stay. Let me look at you. There's a
liquorish devilry in your face. What is this ? "
" I wouldn't deceive you, you know," whined Arthur
Gride ; " I couldn't do it, I should be mad to tr}'. I, I, to
deceive Mr. Nickleby! The pigmy to impose upon the giant.
I ask again — he, he, he ! — what should you say to me if I was
to tell you that I was going to be married 1 "
"To some old hag ? " said Ralph.
"No, no," cried Arthur, interrupting him, and rubbing his
hafids in an ecstasy. " Wrong, wrong again. Mr. Nickleby
for once at fault : out, quite out ! To a young and beautiful
girl ; fresh, lovely, bewitching, and not nineteen. Dark eyes,
long eyelashes, ripe and ruddy lips that to look at is to long
to kiss, beautiful clustering hair that one's fingers itch to play
with, such a waist as might make a man clasp the air involun-
tarily thinking of twining his arm about it, little feet that tread
so lightly they hardly seem to walk upon the ground — to marry
all this, sir, this — hey, hey ! "
" This is something more than common drivelling," said
Ralph, after listening with a curled lip to the old sinner's
raptures. " The girl's name ? "
" Oh deep, deep ! See now how deep that is ! " exclaimed
old Arthur. " He knows I want his help, he knows he can
give it me, he knows it must all turn to his advantage, he
sees the thing already. Her name — is there nobody within
hearing .'' "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 609
" Why, who the devil should there be ? " retorted Ralph,
testily.
" 1 didn't know but that perhaps somebody might be
passing up or down the stairs," said Arthur Gride, after look-
ing out at the door and carefully reclosing it ; " or but that
your man might have come back and might have been listen-
ing outside. Clerks and servants have a trick of listening,
and I should have been very uncomfortable if Mr. Noggs — "
" Curse Mr. Noggs," said Ralph, sharply, " and go on
with what you have to say."
" Curse Mr. Noggs, by all means," rejoined old Arthur ;
" I am sure I have not the least objection to that. Her name
l^==M "— —'■■•'•-
j " Well," said Ralph, rendered very irritable by old Arthuj^
[pausing again. " What is it ? "
^^. " Madeline Bray."
Whatever reasons there might have been — and Arthur
Gride appeared to have anticipated some — for the mention of
this name producing an effect upon Ralph, or whatever effect
it really did produce upon him, he permitted none to manifest
itself, but calmly repeated the name several times, as if re-
flecting when and where he had heard it before.
" Bray," said Ralph. " Bra}' — there was young Bray of
, no, he never had a daughter."
" You remember "Bray.'' " rejoined Arthur Gride.
" No," said Ralph, looking vacantly at him.
" Not Walter Bray ! The dashing man, who used his
handsome wife so ill ? "
" If you seek to recall any particular dashing man to my
recollection by such a trait as that," said Ralph, shrugging
his shoulders, " I shall confound him with nine-tenths of the
dashing men I have ever known."
" Tut, tut. That Bray who is now in the Rules of the
Bench," said old Arthur. " You can't have forgotten Bray.
Both of us did business with him. Why, he owes you
money ! "
"Oh ///w/" rejoined Ralph. "Ay, ay. Now you speak.
Oh ! It's ///s daughter, is it ? "
Naturally as this was said, it was not said so naturally but
that a kindred spirit like old Arthur Gride might have dis-
cerned a design on the part of Ralph to lead him on to much
more explicit statements and explanations than he would
have' volunteered, or than Ralph could in all likelihood have
39
6io NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
obtained by any other means. Old Arthur, however, was so
intent upon his own designs, that he suffered himself to be
over-reached, and had no suspicion but that his good friend
was in earnest.
" I knew you couldn't forget him, when you came to think
for a moment," he said.
" You were right," answered Ralph. " But old Arthur
Gride and matrimony is a most anomalous conjunction of
words ; old Arthur Gride and dark eyes and eyelashes, and
lips that to look at is to long to kiss, and clustering hair that
he wants to play with, and waists that he wants to span, and
little feet that don't tread upon anything— old Arthur Gride
and such things as these, is more monstrous still ; but old
Arthur Gride marrying the daughter of a ruined ' dashing
man ' in the Rules of the Bench, is the most monstrous and
incredible of all. Plainly, friend Arthur Gride, if you want
any help from me in this business (which of course you do,
or you would not be here), speak out, and to the purpose.
And, above all, don't talk to me of its turning to my advan-
tage, for I know it must turn to yours also, and to a good
round tune too, or you would have no finger in such a pie as
this."
There was enough acer^'ity and sarcasm not only in the
matter of Ralph's speech, but in the tone of voice in which
he uttered it, and the looks with which he eked it out, to
have fired even the ancient usurer's cold blood and flushed
even his withered cheek. But he gave vent to no demonstra-
tion of anger, contenting himself with exclaiming as before,
" What a man it is ! " and rolling himself from side to side,
as if in unrestrained enjoyment of his freedom and drollery.
Clearly observing, however, from the expression on Ralph's
features, that he had best come to the point as speedily as
might be, he composed himself for more serious business,
and entered upon the pith and marrow of his negotiation.
First, he dwelt upon the fact that Madeline Bray was
devoted to the support and maintenance, and was a slave to
every wish, of her only parent, who had no other friend on
earth ; to which Ralph rejoined that he had heard something
of the kind before, and that if she had known a little more of
the world, she wouldn't have been such a fool.
Secondly, he enlarged upon the character of her father,
arguing, that even taking it for granted that he loved her in
return with the utmost affection of which he was capable, yet
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 6 1 X
he loved himself a great deal better ; which Ralph said it was
quite unnecessar}' to say anything more about, as that was very
natural, and probable enough.
And, thirdly, old Arthur premised that the girl was a
delicate and beautiful creature, and that he had really a
hankering to have her for his wife. To this Ralph deigned
no other rejoinder than a harsh smile, and a glance at the
shri\-elled old creature before him : which were, however, suf-
ficiently expressive.
" Now," said Gride, " for the little plan I have in my mind
to bring this about ; because, I haven't offered myself even
to the father yet, I should have told you. But that you have
gathered already ? Ah ! oh dear, oh dear, what an edged tool
you are ! "
" Don't play with me then," said Ralph, impatiently.
" You know the proverb."
" A reply always on the tip of his tongue ! " cried old
Arthur, raising his hands and eyes in admiration. " He is
always prepared ! Oh dear, what a blessing to have such a
ready wit, and so much ready money to back it ! " Then,
suddenly changing his tone, he went on ; "I have been back-
wards and forwards to Bray's lodgings several times within
the last six months. It is just half a year since I first saw
this delicate morsel, and, oh dear, what a delicate morsel it
is ! But that is neither here nor there. I am his detaining
creditor for seventeen hundred pounds.'*~™'"" "'"'""'"■" •■*''~"^-
" Vr>u talk as if you were the only detaining creditor,"
said Ralph, pulling out his pocket-book. " I am another for
nine hundred and seventy-five pounds four and threepence."
"The only other, Mr. Nickleby," said old Arthur, eagerly.
" The only other. Nobody else went to the expense of lodg-
ing a detainer, trusting to our holding him fast enough, I
warrant you. We both fell into the same snare ; oh, dear,
what a pitfall it was ; it almost ruined me ! And lent him our
money upon bills, with only one name besides his own, which
to be sure everybody supposed to be a good one, and was as
negotiable as money, but which turned out you know how.
Just as we should have come upon him, he died insolvent.
Ah ! It went verv nigh to ruin me, that loss did ! "
" Go on with \-o\\x scheme," said Ralph. " It's of no use
raising the cry of our trade just now ; there's nobody to hear
us."
" It's always as well to talk that way," returned old Arthur,
)I2
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
with a chuckle, " whether there's anybody to hear us or not.
Practice makes perfect, you know. Now, if I offer myself to
Bray as his son-in-law, upon one simple condition that the
moment I am fast married he shall be quietly released, and
have an allowance to live just t'other side the water like a
gentleman (he can't live long, for I have asked his doctor,
and he declares that his complaint is one of the Heart, and it
is impossible), and if all the advantages of this condition are
properly stated and dwelt upon to him, do you think he could
resist me ? And if he could not resist me, do you think his
daughter could resist hirn ? Shouldn't I have her Mrs. Ar-
thur Gride — pretty Mrs. Arthur Gride — a tit-bit — a dainty
chick — shouldn't I have her Mrs. Arthur Gride in a week, a
month, a day — any time I chose to name ? "
" Go on," said Ralph, nodding his head deliberately, and
speaking in a tone whose studied coldness presented a strange
contrast to the rapturous squeak to which his friend had
gradually mounted. " Go on. You didn't come here to ask
me that."
" Oh dear, how you talk ! " cried old Arthur, edging himself
closer still to Ralph. " Of course I didn't, I don't pretend I
did ! I came to ask what you would take from me, if I pros-
pered with the father, for this debt of yours. Five shillings
in the pound, six and eightpence, ten shillings ? I ivould go
as far as ten for such a friend as you, we have always been on
such good terms ; but you won't be so hard upon me, as that,
I know. Now, will you ? "
" There's something more to be told," said Ralph, as
stony and immovable as ever.
" Yes, yes, there is, but you won't give me time," returned
Arthur Gride. " I want a backer in this matter ; one who can
talk, and urge, and press a point, which you can do as no man
can. I can't do that, for I am a poor, timid, nervous creature.
Now, if you get a good composition for this debt, which you
long ago gave up for lost, you'll stand my friend, and help
me. Won't you ? "
" I'Jiere's something more," said Ralph
" No, no, indeed," cried Arthur Gride.
"Yes, yes, indeed. I tell you yes," said Ralph.
" Oh ! " returned old Arthur, feigning to be suddenly en-
lightened. " You mean something more, as concerns myself
and my intention. Ay, surely, surely. Shall 1 mention
that .? "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
613
" I think you had better," rejoined Ralph, dryly,
" I didn't like to trouble you with that, because 1 supposed
your interest would cease with your own concern in the affair,"
said Arthur Gride. " That's kind of you to ask. Oh dear,
how ver)' kind of you ! Why, supposing I had a knowledge
of some property — some little property — very little — to which
this pretty chick was entitled ; which nobody does or can
know of at this time, but which her husband could sweep into
his pouch, if he knew as much as I do, would that account
for "
" For the whole proceeding," rejoined Ralph, abruptly.
" Now, let me turn this matter over, and consider what I
ought to have if I should help you to success."
" But don't be hard," cried old Arthur, raising his hands
with an imploring gesture, and speaking in a tremulous voice.
" Don't be too hard upon me. It's a very small property, it
is indeed. Say the ten shillings, and we'll close the bargain.
It's more than I ought to give, but you're so kind — shall we
say the ten .-' Do now, do."
Ralph took no notice of these supplications, but sat for
three or four minutes in a brown study, looking thoughtfully
at the person from whom they proceeded. After sufficient
cogitation he broke silence, and it certainly could not be
objected that he used any needless circumlocution, or failed
to speak directly to the purpose.
"If you married this girl without me," said Ralph, "you
must pay my debt in full, because you couldn't set her father
free otherwise. It's plain, then, that I must have the whole
amount, clear of all deduction or incumbrance, or I should
lose from being honored with your confidence, instead of
gaining by it. That's the first article of the treaty. For the
second, I shall stipulate that for my trouble in negotiation and
persuasion, and helping you to this fortune,,I have ti\e hun-
dred pounds. That's very little, because you have' the ripe
lips7"and the clustering hair, and' what not, all to yourself.
For the third and last article, I require that you execute a
bond to me, this day, binding yourself in the payment of these
two sums, before noon of the day of your marriage with Miss
Madeline Bray. You have told me I can urge and press a
point. I press this one, and will take nothing less than these
terms. Accept them if you like. If not, marr\' her without
5ie if vou can. I shall still cet mv debt."
To all entreaties, protestations, and offers of compromise
6 1 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
between his own proposals and those which Arthur Gride had
first suL:;gested, Ralph was deaf as an adder. He would en-
ter into no further discussion of the subject, and — while old
Arthur dilated on the enormity of his demands and proposed
modifications of them, approaching by degrees nearer and
nearer to the terms he resisted — sat perfectly mute, looking
with an air of quiet abstraction over the entries and papers
In his pocket-book. Finding that it was impossible to make
my impression upon his stanch friend, Arthur Gride, who had
prepared himself for some such result before he came, con-
sented with a heavy heart to the proposed treaty, and upon
the spot filled up the bond required (Ralph kept such instru-
ments handy), after exacting the condition that Mr. Nickleby
should accompany him to Bray's lodgings that very hour, and
open the negotiation at once, should circumstances appear
auspicious and favorable to their designs.
In pursuance of this last understanding the worthy gen-
tlemen went out t0 2;ether shortly afterwards, and Newman
Noggs emerged, bottle in hand, from the cupboard, out of the
upper door of which, at the imminent risk of detection, he
had more than once thrust his red nose when such parts of
the subject were under discussion as interested him most.
" I have no appetite now," said Newman, putting the flask
in his pocket. "I've had tny dinner."
Having delivered this observation in a very grievous and
doleful tone, Newman reached the door in one long limp, and
came back again in another.
" I don't know who she may be, or what she may be," he
said ; " but I pity her with all my heart and soul ; and I can't
help her, nor can I help any of the people against whom a
hundred tricks, but none so vile as this, are plotted every day !
Well, that adds to my pain, but not to theirs. The thing is
no worse because I know it, and it tortures me as well as
them. Gride and Nickleby ! Good pair for a curricle. Oh
roguery ! roguery ! roguery ! "
With these reflections, and a very hard knock on the crown
of his unfortunate hat at each repetition of the last word,
Newman Noggs, whose brain was a little muddled by so much
of the contents of the pocket-pistol as had found their way
there during his recent concealment, went forth to seek such
consolation as might be derivable from the beef and greens
of some cheap eating-house.
Meanwhile the two plotters had betaken themselves to the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 615
same house whither Nicholas had repaired for the first time
but a few mornings before, and having obtained access to Mr.
Bray, and found his daughter from home, had by a train of
the most masterly approaches that Ralph's utmost skill could
frame, at length laid open the real object of their visit.
" There he sits, Mr. Bray," said Ralph, as the invalid, not
yet recovered from his surprise, reclined in his chair, looking
alternately at him and Arthur Gride. " What if he has had
the ill fortune to be one cause of your detention in this place ?
I have been another. Men must live ; you are too much a
man of the world not to see that in its true light. We offer
the best reparation in our power. Reparation ? Here is an
offer of marriage, that many a titled father would leap at, for
his child. Mr. Arthur Gride, with the fortune of a prince.
Think what a haul it is ! "
" My daughter, sir," returned Bray, haughtily, " as / have
brought her up, would be a rich recompense for the largest
fortune that a man could bestow in exchange for her hand."
" Precisely what I told you," said the artful Ralph, turning
to his friend, old Arthur. " Precisely what made me consider
the thing so fair and easy. There is no obligation on either
side. You have money, and Miss Madeline has beauty and
worth. She has youth, you have money. She has not money,
you have not youth. Tit for tat, quits, a match of Heaven's
own making ! "
" Matches are made in Heaven, they say," added Arthur
Gride, leering hideously at the father-in-law he wanted. " If
we are married, it will be destiny, according to that."
" Then think, Mr. Bray," said Ralph, hastily substituting
for this argument considerations more nearly allied to earth,
" think what a stake is involved in the acceptance or rejec-
tion of these proposals of my friend."
" How can I accept or reject," interrupted Mr. Bray, with
an irritable conscientiousness that it really rested with him to
decide. " It is for my daughter to accept or reject ; it is for
my daughter. You know that."
" True," said Ralph, emphatically ; " but you have still the
power to advise ; to state the reasons for and against ; to
hint a v/ish."
" To hint a wish, sir ! " returned the debtor, proud and
mean by turns, and selfish at all times. " I am her father, am
I not t Why should I hint, and beat about the bush ? Do
you suppose, like her mother's friends and my enemies — a
6 1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
curse upon them all ! — that there is anything in what she has
done for me but duty, sir, but duty ? Or do you think that
my having been unfortunate is a sufficient reason why our rel-
ative positions should be changed, and that she should com-
mand and I should obey ? Hint a wish too ! Perhaps you
think because you see me in this place and scarcely able to
leave this chair without assistance, that I am some broken-
spirited dependent creature, without the courage or power to
do what I may think best for my own child. Still the power
to hint a wish ! I hope so ! "
" Pardon me," returned Ralph, who thoroughly knew his
man, and had taken his ground accordingly ; " you do not
hear me out. I was about to say that your hinting a wish,
even hinting a wish, would surely be equivalent to com-
manding."
"Why, of course it would," retorted Mr. Bray, in an ex-
asperated tone. " If you don't happen to have heard of the
time, sir, I tell you that there was a time, when I carried every
point in triumph against her mother's whole family, althcjtigh
they had power and wealth on their side, by my will alone."
" Still," rejoined Ralph, as mildly as his nature would al-
low him, "you have not heard me out. You are a man yet
qualified to shine in society, with many years of life before
you ; that is, if you lived in free air, and under brighter skies,
and chose your own companions. Gayety is your element,
you have shone in it before. Fashion and freedom for you.
France, and an annuity that would support you there in lux-
ury, would give you a new lease of life, would transfer you to
a new existence. The town rang with your expensive pleas-
ures once, and you could blaze on a new scene again, profit-
ing by experience, and living a little at others' cost, instead
of letting others live at yours. What is there on the reverse
side of the picture ? What is there ? I don't know which is
the nearest churchyard, but a gravestone there, wherever it is,
and a date, perhaps two years hence, perhaps twenty. That's
all."
Mr. Bray rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, and
shaded his face with his hand.
"I speak iilainly," said Ralph, sitting down beside him,
" because I feel strongly. It's my interest that you should
marry your daughter to my friend Gride, because then he sees
me paid — in part, that is. I don't disguise it. I acknowledge
it openly. But what interest have you in recommending her
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 617
to such a step ? Keep that in view. She might object, re-
monstrate, shed tears, talk of his being too old, and plead
that her life would be rendered miserable. But what is it
now .'' "
Several slight gestures on the part of the invalid, showed
that these arguments were no more lost upon him, than the
smallest iota of his demeanor was upon Ralph.
"What is it now, I say," pursued the wily usurer, "or
what has it a chance of being ? If you died, indeed, the peo-
ple you hate would make her happy. But can you bear the
thought of that .? "
" No ! " returned Bray, urged by a vindictive impulse he
could not repress.
" I should imagine not, indeed ! "' said Ralph, quietly.
"If she profits by anybody's death," this was said in a lower
tone, " let it be by her husband's. Don't let her have to look
back to yours, as the event from which to date a happier life.
Where is the objection >. Let me hear it stated. What is it ?
That her suitor is an old man ? Why, how often do men of
family and fortune, who haven't your excuse, but have all the
means and superfluities of life within their reach, how often
do they marry their daughters to old men, or (worse still) to
young men without heads or hearts, to tickle some idle vanity,
strengthen some family interest, to secure some seat in Parlia-
ment! Judge for her, sir, judge for her. You must know
best, and she will live to thank you."
" Hush ! hush 1 " cried Mr. Bray, suddenly starting up,
and covering Ralph's mouth with his trembling hand. " I
hear her at the door ! "
There was a L;lcam of conscience in the shame and terror
of tliis~Tiasly action, which, in one short moment, tore the thin
covering of sophistry'. from the cruel design, and laid it bare
in all its meanness and heartless deformity. The father fell
into his chair pale and trembling ; Arthur Gride plucked and
fumbled at his hat, and durst not raise his eyes from the
floor ; even Ralph crouched for the moment like a beaten
hound, cowed by the presence of one young innocent girl !
The effect was almost as brief as sudden. Ralph was the
first to recover himself, and observing Madeline's looks of
alarm, entreated the poor girl to be composed, assuring her
that there was no cause for fear.
" A sudden spasm," said Ralph, glancing at Mr. Bray.
" He is quite well now."
6 1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
It might have moved a very hard and worldly heart to see
the young and beautiful creature, whose certain misery they
had been contriving but a minute before, throw her arms
about her father's neck, and pour forth words of tender sym-
pathy and love, the sweetest a father's ear can know, or child's
lips form. But Ralph looked coldly on ; and Arthur Gride,
whose bleared eyes gloated only over the outward beauties,
and were blind to the spirit which reigned within, evinced a
fantastic kind of warmth certainly, but not exactly that kind
of warmth of feeling which the contemplation of virtue usually
inspires.
" Madeline," said her father, gently disengaging himself,
" it was nothing."
" But you had that spasm yesterday, and it is terrible to
see you in such pain. Can I do nothing for you ? "
" Nothing just now. Here are two gentlemen, Madeline,
one of whom you have seen before. She used to sa)-," added
Mr. Bray, addressing Arthur Gride, " that the sight of you
always made me worse. That was natural, knowing what she
did, and only what she did, of our connection and its results.
Well, well. Perhaps she may change her mind on that point ;
girls have leave to change their minds, you know. You are
very tired, my dear."
" I am not, indeed."
" indeed you are. You do too much."
" I wish I could do more."
" I know you. do, but you overtask your strength. This
wretched life, my love, of daily labor and fatigue, is more than
you can bear. I am sure it is. Poor Madeline ! "
With these and many more kind words, Mr. Bray drew his
daughter to him and kissed her cheek affectionately. Ralph,
watching him sharply and closely in the meantime, made his
way towards the door, and signed to Gride to follow him.
" You will communicate with us again ? " said Ralph.
" Yes, yes," returned Mr. Bray, hastily thrusting his daugh-
ter aside. " In a week. Give me a week."
"One week," said Ralph, turning to his companion, "from
to-day. Good-morning, Miss Madeline, I kiss your hand."
" We will shake hands. Gride," said Mr. Bray, extending
his, as old Arthur bowed. "You mean well, no doubt. I am
bound to say so now. If I owed you money, that was not your
fault. Madeline, my love, your hand here."
" Oh dear I If the young lady would condescend ! Only
NICHOLAS NICh'LEB Y. 619
the tips of her fingers ! " said Arthur, hesitating and half re-
treating.
Madeline shrunk involuntarily from the goblin figure, but
she placed the tips of her fingers in his hand and instantly
withdrew them. After an ineffectual clutch, intended to de-
tain and carr}'^ them to his lips, old Arthur gave his own fin-
gers a mumbling kiss, and with many amorous distortions of
visage went in pursuit of his friend who was by this time in
the street.
" What does he say, what does he say ? What does the
giant say to the pigmy ? " inquired Arthur Gride, hobbling up
to Ralph.
" What does the pigmy say to the giant ? " rejoined Ralph,
elevating his eyebrows and looking down upon his questioner.
" He doesn't know what to say," replied Arthur Gride.
" He hopes and fears. But is she not a dainty morsel ? "
" 1 have no great taste for beauty," growled Ralph.
" But I have," rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. " Oh
dear! How handsome her eyes looked when she was stoop-
ing over him ! Such long lashes, such delicate fringe ! She
— she — looked at me so soft."
" Not over-lovingly, 1 think ? " said Ralph. " Did she ? "
" No you think not ? " replied old Arthur. " But don't
you think it it can be brought about ? Don't you think it
can?"
Ralph looked at him with a contemptuous frown, and re-
plied with a sneer, and between his teeth :
" Did you mark his telling her she was tired and did too
much, and overtasked her strength."
" Ay, ay. What of it ? "
" When do you think he ever told her that before ? The
life is more than she can bear ! Yes, yes. He'll change it
for her."
" D'ye think it's done ? " inquired old Arthur, peering into
his companion's face with half-closed eyes.
" I am sure it's done," said Ralph. "He is trying to de-
ceive himself, even before our eyes already. He is making
believe that he thinks of her good, and not his own. He is
acting a virtuous part, and is so considerate and affectionate,
sir, that his daughter scarcely knew him. I saw a tear of sur-
prise in her eye. There'll be a few more tears of surprise
there before long, though of a dift'erent kind. Oh ! we may
wait with confidence for this day week."
620 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
BEING FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES, Af^D
POSITIVELY HIS LAST APPEARANCE ON THIS STAGE.
It was with a very sad and heavy heart, oppressed by
many painful ideas, that Nicholas retraced his steps eastward,
and betook himself to the counting house of Cheeryble Broth-
ers. Whatever the idle hopes he had suffered himself to en-
tertain, whatever the pleasant visions which had sprung up in
his mind and grouped themselves around the fair image of
Madeline Bray, they were now dispelled, and not a vestige of
their gayety and brightness remained.
It would be a poor compliment to Nicholas's better na-
ture, and one which he was verj- far from deserving, to insin-
uate that the solution, and such a solution, of the mysterj'
which had seemed to surround Madeline Bray, where he was
ignorant even of her name, had damped his ardor or cooled
the fervor of his admiration. If he had regarded her before,
with such a passion as young men attracted by mere beauty
and eloquence may entertain, he was now conscious of much
deeper and stronger feelings. But, reverence for the truth
and purity of her heart, respect for the helplessness and lone-
liness of her situation, sympathy with the trials of one so
young and fair, and admiration of her great and noble spirit,
all seemed to raise her far above his reach, and, while they
imparted new depth and dignity to his love, to whisper that it
was hopeless.
" I will keep my word, as I have pledged it to her," said
Nicholas, manfully. " This is no common trust that I have
to discharge, and I will perform the double duty that is im-
posed upon me most scrupulously and strictly. My secret
feelings deserve no consideration in such a case as this, and
they shall have none."
Still, there were the secret feelings in existence just the
same, and in secret Nicholas rather encouraged them than
otherwise ; reasoning (if he reasoned at all) that there they
could do no harm to anybody but himself, and that if he kept
them to himself from a sense of duty, he had an additional
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 621
right to entertain himself with them as a reward for his he-
roism.
All these thoughts, coupled with what he had seen that
morning and the anticipation of his next visit, rendered him
a very dull and abstracted companion ; so much so, indeed,
that Tim Linkinwater suspected he must have made the mis-
take of a figure somewhere, which was preying upon his mind,
and seriously conjured him, if such were the case, to make a
clean breast and scratch it out, rather than have his whole
life embittered by the tortures of remorse.
But in reply to these considerate representations, and
many others both from Tim and Mr. Frank, Nicholas could
only be brought to state that he was never merrier in his life ;
and so went on all day, and so went towards home at night,
still turning over and over again the same subjects, thinking
over and over again the same things, and arriving over and
over again at the same conclusions.
In this pensive, wayward, and uncertam state, people are
apt to lounge and loiter without knowing why, to read pla-
cards on the walls with great attention and without the smallest
idea of one word of their contents, and to stare most ear-
nestly through shop-windows at things which they don't see.
It was thus that Nicholas found himself poring with the ut-
most interest over a large play-bill hanging outside a Minor
Theatre which he had to pass on his way home, and reading
a list of the actors and actresses who had promised to do
honor to some approaching benefit, with as much gravity as if
it had been a catalogue of the names of those ladies and gen-
tlemen who stood highest upon the Book of Fate, and he had
been looking anxiously for his own. He glanced at the top
of the bill, with a smile at his own dulness, as he prepared to
resume his walk, and there saw announced, in large letters
with a large space between each of them, " Positively the last
appearance of Mr. Vincent Crummies of Provincial Celeb-
ritv ! ! ! "
" Nonsense ! " said Nicholas, turning back again. " It
can't be."
But there it was. In one line by itself was an announce-
ment of the first night of a new melodrama ; in another line
by itself was an announcement of the last six nights of an old
one ; a third line was devoted to the re-engagement of the un-
rivalled African Knife-swallower, who had kindly suffered him-
self to be prevailed upon to forego his countr)- engagements
62 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
for one week longer ; a fourth line announced that Mr. Snittle
Timberry, having recovered from his late severe indisposition,
would have the honor of appearing that evening ; a fifth line
said that there were " Cheers, Tears, and Laughter ! " every
night ; a sixth, that that was positively the last appearance of
Mr. Vincent Crummies of Provincial Celebrity.
" Surely it must be the same man," thought Nicholas.
" There can't be two Vincent Crummleses."
The better to settle this question he referred to the bill
again, and finding that there was a Baron in the first piece,
and that Roberto (his son) was enacted by one Master
Crummies, and Spaletro (his nephew) by one Master Percy
Crummies — their last appearances — and that, incidental to
the piece, was a characteristic dance by the characters, and a
Castanet pas seul by the Infant Phenomenon — her last appear-
ance— he no longer entertained any doubt ; and presenting
himself at the stage door, and sending in a scrap of paper
with " Mr. Johnson " written thereon in pencil, was presently
conducted by a Robber M'ith a very large belt and buckle
round his waist, and very large leather gauntlets on his hands,
into the presence of his former manager.
Mr. Crummies was unfeignedly glad to see him, and start-
ing up from before a small dressing-glass, with one very bushy
eyebrow stuck on crooked over his left e}-e, and the fellow
eyebrow and the calf of one of his legs in his hand, embraced
him cordially ; at the same time observing, that it would do
Mrs. Crummles's heart good to bid him good-by before they
went.
" You were always a favorite of hers, Johnson," said
Crummies, " always were from the first. I was quite easy in my
mind about you from that first day you dined with us. One
that Mrs. Crummies took a fancy to, was sure to turn out
right. Ah ! Johnson, what a woman that is ! "
" I am sincerely obliged to her for her kindness in this
and all other respects," said Nicholas. " P)Ut where are you
going, that you talk about bidding good-by .'' "
" Haven't you seen it in the papers ? " said Crummies,
with some dignitv.
"No," replied Nicholas.
" I wonder at tliat," said the manager. " It was among
the varieties. I had the paragraph here somewhere — but I
don't know — oh, yes, here it is."
So saying, Mr. Crummies, after pretending that he thought
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 623
he must have lost it, produced a square inch of newspaper
from the pocket of the pantaloons he wore in private life (which
together with the plain clothes of several other gentlemen, lay
scattered about on a kind of dresser in the room), and
gave it to Nicholas to read :
" The talented Vincent Crummies, long favorably known
to fame as a country manager and actor of no ordinary pre-
tensions, is about to cross the Atlantic on a histrionic expedi-
tion. Crummies is to be accompanied, we hear, by his lady
and gifted family. We know no man superior to Crummies
in his particular line of character, or one who, whether as a
public or private individual, could carry with him the best
wishes of a larger circle of friends. Crummies is certain to
succeed."
" Here's another bit," said Mr. Crummies, handing over a
still smaller scrap. " This is from the notices to correspon-
dents, this one."
Nicholas read it aloud. " ' Philo-Dramaticus. Crummies,
the countr}^ manager and actor, cannot be more than forty-
three, or forty-four years of age. Crummies is not a Prussian,
having been born at Chelsea.' Humph ! " said Nicholas,
" that's an odd paragraph."
" Very," returned Crummies, scratching the side of his
nose, and looking at Nicholas with an assumption of great
unconcern. " I can't think who puts these things in. /
didn't."
Still keeping his eye on Nicholas, Mr. Crummies shook
his head twice or thrice with profound gravit\% and remarking
that he could not for the life of him imagine how the news-
papers found out the things they did, folded up the extracts
and put them in his pocket again.
'' I am astonished to hear this news," said Nicholas. " Go-
ing to America ! You had no such thing in contemplation
when I was with you."
" No," replied Crummies, " I hadn't then. The fact is,
that Mrs. Crummies — most extraordinary woman, Johnson."
Here he broke off and whispered something in his ear.
" Oh ! " said Nicholas, smiling. " The prospect of an ad-
dition to your family } "
" The seventh addition, Johnson," returned Mr. Crumm-
ies, solemnly. '' I thought such a child as the Phenomenon
must have been a closer ; but it seems we are to have another.
She is a very remarkable woman."
624 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" I congratulate you," said Nicholas, "and I hope this
may prove a phenomenon too."
" Why, it'b pretty sure to be something uncommon, I sup-
pose," rejoined Mr. Crummies. "The talent of the other
three is principally in combat and serious pantomime. I
should like this one to have a turn for juvenile tragedy ; I
understand they want something of that sort in America very
mch. However, we must take it as it comes. Perhaps it
may have a genius for the tight-rope. It may have any sort
of genius, in short, if it takes after its mother, Johnson, for
she is an universal genius ; but, whatever its genius is, that
genius shall be developed."
Expressing himself after these terms, Mr. Crummies put on
his other eyebrow, and the calves of his legs, and then put on his
legs, which were of a yellowish fiesh-color, and rather soiled
about the knees, from frequent going down upon those joints,
in curses, prayers, last struggles, and other strong passages.
While the ex-manager completed his toilet, he informed
Nicholas that as he should have a fair start in America, from
the proceeds of a tolerably good engagement which he had
been fortunate enough to obtain, and as he and Mrs. Crumm-
ies could scarcely hope to act forever (not being immortal,
except in the breath of Fame and in a figurative sense), he
had made up his mind to settle there permanently, in the hope
of acquiring some land of his own which would support them
in their old age, and which they could afterwards bequeath to
their children. Nicholas, having highly commended this reso-
lution, Mr. Crummies went on to impart such further intelli-
gence relative to their mutual friends as he thought might
prove interesting ; informing Nicholas, among other things,
that Miss Snevellicci was happily married to an affluent young
wax-chandler who had supplied the theatre with candles, and
that Mr. Lillyvick didn't dare to say his soul was his own,
such was the tyrannical sway of Mrs. Lillyvick, who reigned
paramount and supreme.
Nicholas responded to this confidence on the part of Mr.
Crummies, by confiding to him his own name, situation, and
prospects, and informing him in as few general words as he
could, of the circumstances which had led to their first ac-
quaintance. After congratulating him with great heartiness
on the improved state of his fortunes, Mr. Crummies gave him
to understand that next morning he and his were to start for
Liverpool, where the vessel lay which was to carry them from
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
625
the shores of England, and that if Nicholas wished to take a
last adieu of Mrs. Crummies, he must repair with him that
night to a farewell-supper, given in honor of the family at a
neighboring tavern ; at which Mr. Snittle Timberr}' would
preside, while the honors of the vice-chair would be sustained'
by the African Swallower.
The room being by liiis time very warm and somewhat
crowded, in consequence of the influx of four gentlemen, who
had just killed each other in the piece under representation,
Nicholas accepted the invitation, and promised to return at
the conclusion of the performances ; preferring the cool air
and twilight out of doors to the mingled perfume of gas,
orange-peel, and gunpowder, which pervaded the hot and
glaring theatre.
He availed himself of this interval to buy a silver snuff-
box— the best his funds would afford — as a token of remem-
brance for Mr. Crummies, and having purchased besides a
pair of ear-rings for Mrs. Crummies, a necklace for the Phe-
nomenon, and a flaming shirt-pin for each of the young gentle-
men, he refreshed himself with a walk, and returning a little
after the appointed time, found the lights out, the theatre
empty, the curtain raised for the night, and Mr. Crummies
walking up and down the stage expecting his arrival.
"Timberry won't be long," said Mr. Crummies. "He
played the audience out to-night. He does a faithful black
in the last piece, and it takes him a little longer to wash him-
self."
" A very unpleasant line of character, I should think ? "
said Nicholas.
" No, I don't know," replied Mr. Crummies ; " it comes
off easily enough, and there's only the face and neck. We
had a first-tragedy man in our company once, who, when he
played Othello, used to black himself all over. But that's
feeling a part and going into it as if you meant it ; it isn't
usual ; more's the pity."
Mr. Snittle Timberry now appeared, arm in arm with the
African Swallower, and being introduced to Nicholas, raised
his hat half-a-foot, and said he was proud to know him. The
Swallower said the same, and looked and spoke remarkably
like an Irishman.
" I see by the bills that you have been ill, sir," said Nich-
olas to Mr. Timberry. " 1 hope you are none the worse for
your exertions to-night ? "
40
626 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Mr, Timberry in reply, shook his head with a gloomy air,
tapped his chest several times with great significancy, and
drawing his cloak more closely about him, said, " But no
matter, no matter. Come ! "
It is observable that when people upon the stage are in
any strait involving the very last extremity of weakness and
exhaustion, they invariably perform feats of strength requiring
great ingenuitv and muscular power. Thus, a wounded prince
or bandit chief, who is bleeding to death and too faint to
move, except to the softest music (and then only upon his
hands and knees), shall be seen to approach a cottage dool
for aid, in such a series of writhings and twistings, and with
such curlings up of the legs, and such rollings over and over,
and such gettings up and tumblings down again, as could
never be achieved save by a very strong man skilled in pos-
ture-making. And so natural did this sort of performance
come to Mr. Snittle Timberry, that on their way out of the
theatre and towards the tavern where the supper was to be
holden, he testified the severity of his recent indisposition and
its wasting effects upon the nervous system, by a series of
gymnastic performances which were the admiration of all
witnesses.
" Why this is indeed a joy I had not looked for ! " said
Mrs. Crummies, when Nicholas was presented.
" Nor I," replied Nicholas. " It is by a mere chance that
I have this opportunity of seeing you, although I would have
made a great exertion to have availed myself of it."
" Here is one whom you know," said Mrs. Crummies,
thrusting forward the Phenomenon in a blue gauze frock,
extensively flounced, and trousers of the same ; " and here
another — and another," presenting the Masters Crummleses.
" And how is your friend, the faithful Digby .'' "
" Digby ! " said Nicholas, forgetting at the instant that
this had been Smike's theatrical name. " Oh yes. He's quite
— what am I saying? — he is very far from well."
" How ! " exclaimed Mrs. Crummies, with a tragic recoil.
" I fear," said Nicholas, shaking his head, and making an
attempt to smile, " that your better-half would be more struck
with him now, than ever."
" What mean you ? " rejoined Mrs. Crummies, in her most
popular manner. " Whence comes this altered tone } "
" I mean that a dastardly enemy of mine has struck at me
through hiiu, and that whilehe thinks to torture me, he inflicts
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
627
on him such agonies of terror and suspense as You will
excuse me, I am sure," said Nicholas, checking himself. "I
should never speak of this, and never do, except to those who
know the facts, but for a moment 1 forgot myself."
With this hasty apology Nicholas stooped down to salute
the Phenomenon, and changed the subject ; inwardly cursing
his precipitation, and very much wondering what Mrs.
Crummies must think of so sudden an explosion.
That lady- seemed to think very little about it, for the
supper being by this time on table, she gave her hand to
Nicholas and repaired with a stately step to the left hand of
Mr. Snittle Timberr}\ Nicholas had the honor to support
her, and Mr. Crummies was placed upon the chairman's right;
the Phenomenon and the Masters Crummies sustained the
vice.
The company amounted in number to some twenty-five or
thirty, being composed of such members of the theatrical pro-
fession, then engaged or disengaged in London, as were
numbered among the most ultimate friends of ]\Ir. and Mrs.
Crummies. The ladies and gentlemen were pretty equally
balanced ; the expenses of the entertainment being defrayed
by the latter, each of whom had the privilege of inviting one
of the former as his guest.
It was upon the whole a very distinguished party, for in-
dependently of the lesser theatrical lights who clustered on
this occasion round Mr. Snittle Timberiy, there was a literary
gentleman present who had dramatized in his time two
hundred and forty-seven novels as fast as they had come out
— some of them faster than they had come out — and who was
a literary gentleman in consequence.
This gentleman sat on the left hand of Nicholas, to whom
he was introduced by his friend the African Swallower, from
the bottom of the table, with a high eulogium upon his fame
and reputation.
" I am happy to know a gentleman of such great distinc-
tion," said Nicholas, politely.
" Sir," replied the wit, "you're very welcome, I'm sure.
The honor is reciprocal, sir, as 1 usually say when I dramatize
a book. Did you ever hear a definition of fame, sir } "
•' I have heard several," replied Nicholas, with a smile.
" What is yours ! "
"When I dramatize a bonk, sir," said the literary gentle-
man,"///(?/ 'y fame. For its author."
628 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Oh, indeed ! " rejoined Nicholas.
"That's fame sir," said the hterary gentleman.
" So Richard Turpin, Tom King, and Jerry Abershawhave
handed down to fame the names of those on whom they com-
mitted their most impudent robberies ? " said Nicholas.
" I don't know anything about that, sir," answered the
literary gentleman.
" Shakspeare dramatized stories which had previously
appeared in print, it is true," observed Nicholas.
" Meaning Bill, sir ? " said the literary gentleman. " So
he did. Bill was an adapter, certainly. So he was — and very
well he adapted too — considering."
" I was about to say," rejoined Nicholas, " that Shaks-
peare derived some of his plots from old tales and legends
in general circulation ; but it seems to me, that some of the
gentlemen of your craft at the present day, have shot very far
beyond him — "
" You're quite right, sir," interrupted the literary gentle-
man, leaning back in his chair and exercising his toothpick ;
" Human intellect, sir, has progressed since his time, is pro-
gressing, will progress."
" Shot beyond him, I mean," resumed Nicholas, " in quite
another respect, for, whereas he brought within the magic
circle of his genius, traditions peculiarly adapted for his pur-
pose, and turned familiar things into constellations which
should enlighten the world for ages, you drag within the magic
circle of your dulness, subjects not at all adapted to the
purpose of the stage, and debase as he exalted. For instance,
you take the uncompleted books of living authors, fresh from
their hands, wet from the press, cut, hack, and can-e them to
the powers and capacities of your actors, and the capability
of your theatres, finish unfinished works, hastily and crudely
vamp up ideas not yet worked out by their original pro-
jector, but which have doubtless cost him many thoughtful
days and sleepless nights ; by a comparison of incidents and
dialogue, down to the \ery last word he may have written a
fortnight before, do your utmost to anticipate his plot — all
this without his permission, and against his will ; and then,
to crown the whole proceeding, publish in some mean
pamphlet, an unmeaning farrago of garbled extracts from his
work, to which you put your name as author, with the honor-
able distinction annexed, of having perpetrated a hundred
other outrages of the same description. Now, show me the
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. G29
distinction between such pilfering as this, and picking a man's
pocket in the street : unless, indeed, it be, that the legislature
has a regard for pocket handkerchiefs, and leaves men's
brains (except when they are knocked out by violence), to take
care of themselves."
" Men must live, sir," said the literar}' gentleman,
shrugging his shoulders.
" That would be an equally fair plea in both cases,"
replied Nicholas ; ''but if you put it upon that ground, I have
nothing more to say, than, that if I were a writer of books, and
you a thirsty dramatist, I would rather pay your tavern score
for six months, large as it might be, than have a niche in the
Temple of Fame with you for the humblest corner of my
pedestal, through six hundred generations."
The conversation threatened to take a somewhat angry
tone when it had arrived thus far, but Mrs. Crummies
opportunefy interposed to prevent its leading to any violent
outbreak, by making some inquiries of the literary gentleman
relative to the plots of the six new pieces which he had written
by contract to introduce the African Knife-swallower in his
various unrivalled performances. This speedily engaged him
in an animated conversation with that lady, in the interest of
which, all recollection of his recent discussion with Nicholas
very quickly evaporated.
The board being now clear of the more substantial articles
of food, and punch, wine, and spirits being placed upon it and
handed about, the guests, who had been previously conversing
in little groups of three or four, gradually fell off into a dead
silence, while the majority of those present, glanced from time
to time at Mr. Snittle Timberr}^, and the bolder spirits did
not even hesitate to strike the table with their knuckles, and
plainly intimate their expectations, by uttering such en-
couragements as " Now, Tim," "Wake up, Mr. Chairman,"
" All charged, sir, and waiting for a toast," and so forth.
To these remonstrances, Mr. Timberr}- deigned no other
rejoinder than striking his chest and gasping for breath, and
giving many other indications of being still the victim of in-
disposition— for a man must not make himself too cheap
either on the stage or off — while Mr. Crummies, who knew
full well that he would be the subject of the forthcoming toast,
sat gracefully in his chair with his arm thrown carelessly over
the back, and now and then lifted his glass to his mouth and
drank a little punch, with the same air with which he was
630 NICHOLAS iXICKLEBY.
accustomed to take long draughts of nothing, out of the
pasteboard goblets in banquet scenes.
At length Mr. Snittle Timberry rose in the most approved
attitude, with one hand in the breast of his waistcoat and the
other on the nearest snuff-box, and having been received with
great enthusiasm, proposed, with abundance of quotations, his
friend Mr. Vincent Crummies : ending a pretty long speech
by extending his right hand on one side and his left on the
other, and severally calling upon Mr. and Mrs. Cnnnmles to
grasp the same. This clone, Mr. Vincent Crummies returned
thanks, and that done, the African Swallower proposed Mrs.
Vincent Crummies, in affecting terms. Then were heard loud
moans and sobs from Mrs. Crummies and the ladies, despite
of which that heroic woman insisted upon returning thanks
herself, which she did, in a manner and in a speech which has
never been surpassed and seldom equalled. It then became
the duty of Mr. Snittle Timberry to give the young Crum-
mleses, which he did ; after which Mr. Vincent Crummies, as
their father, addressed the company in a supplementary
speech, enlarging on their virtues, amiabilities, and excel-
lences, and wishing that they were the sons and daughter of
every lady and gentleman present. These solemnities having
been succeeded by a decent interval, enlivened by musical and
other entertainments, Mr. Crummies proposed that ornament
of the profession, Mr. Snittle Timberry ; and at a little later
period of the evening, the health of that other ornament of
the profession, the African Swallower, his very dear friend, if
he would allow him to call him so ; which liberty (there being
no particular reason why he should not allow it) the African
Swallower graciously permitted. The literary gentleman was
then about to be drunk, but it being discovered that he had
been drunk for some time in another acceptation of the term,
and was then asleep on the stairs, the intention was aban-
doned, and the honor transferred to the ladies. Finally, after
a very long sitting, Mr. Snittle Timberry vacated the chair,
and the company with many adieus and embraces dispersed.
Nicholas waited to the last to give his little presents. When
he had said good-by all round and came to Mr. Crummies,
he could not but mark the difference between their present
separation and their parting at Portsmouth. Not a jot of his
theatrical manner remained ; he put out his hand with an
air which, if he could have summoned it at will, would have
made him the best actor of his day in homely parts, and when
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 63 1
Nicholas shook it with the warmth he honestly felt, appeared
thoroughly melted.
" We were a very happy little company, Johnson," said
poor Crummies. " You and I never had a word. I shall be
ver)' glad to-morrow^ morning to think that I saw you again,
but now I almost wish you hadn't come."
' Nicholas was about to return a cheerful reply, when he was
greatly disconcerted by the sudden apparition of Mrs. Grudden,
who it seemed had declined to attend the supper in order that
she might rise earlier in the morning, and who now burst out
of an adjoining bedroom, habited in very extraordinar}^ white
robes ; and throwing her arms about his neck, hugged him
with great affection.
""what ! Are you going too ? " said Nicholas, submitting
with as good a grace as if she had been the finest young
creature in the world.
"Going?" returned Mrs. Grudden. "Lord ha' mercy,
what do you think they'd do without me ? "
Nicholas submitted to another hug with even a better
grace than before, if that were possible, and waving his hat
as cheerfully as he could, took farewell of the Vincent Crumm-
leses.
CHAPTER XLIX.
CHRONICLES THE FURTHER PROCEEDINGS OF THE NICKLEBY
FAMILY, AND THE SEQUEL OF THE ADVENTURE OF THE
GENTLEMAN IN THE SMALL-CLOTHES.
While Nicholas, absorbed in the one engrossing subject
of interest which had recently opened upon him, occupied his
leisure hours with thoug^hts of Madeline Brav, and in execution
of the commissions which the anxiety of Brother Charles in
her behalf imposed upon him, saw her again and again, and
each time with greater danger to his peace of mind and a
more weakening effect upon the lofty resolutions he had
formed, Mrs. Nickleby and Kate continued to live in peace
and quiet, agitated by no other cares than those which were
connected with certain harassing proceedings taken by Mr.
Snawley for the recovery of his son, and their anxiety for
63 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Smike himself, whose health, long upon the wane, began to
be so much affected by apprehension and uncertainty as some-
times to occasion both them and Nicholas considerable un-
easiness, and even alarm.
It was no complaint or murmur on the part of the poor
fellow himself that thus disturbed them. Ever eager to be
employed in such slight services as he could render, and al-
ways anxious to repay his benefactors with cheerful and happy
looks, less friendly eyes might have seen in him no cause for
any misgiving. But there were times, and often too, when the
sunken eye was too bright, the hollow cheek too flushed, the
breath too thick and heavy in its course, the frame too feeble
and exhausted, to escape their regard and notice.
There is a dread disease which so prepares its victim, as it
were, for death ; which so refines it of its grosser aspect, and
throws around familiar looks, unearthly indications of the
coming change ; a dread disease, in which the struggle be-
tween soul and body is so gradual, quiet, and solemn, and the
result so sure, that day by day, and grain by grain, the mortal
part wastes and withers away, so that the spirit grows light
and sanguine with its lightening load, and, feeling immortality
at hand, deems it but a new term of mortal life ; a disease in
which death and life are so strangely blended, that death takes
the glow and hue of life, and life the gaunt and grisly form of
death ; a disease which medicine never cured, wealth never
warded off, or poverty could boast exemption from ; which
sometimes moves in giant strides, and sometimes at a tardy
sluggish pace, but, slow or quick, is ever sure and certain.
it was with some faint reference in his own mind to this
disorder, though he would by no means admit it, even to him-
self, that Nicholas had already carried his faithful companion
to a physician of great repute. There was no cause for imme-
diate alarm, he said. There were no present symptoms which
could be deemed conclusive. The constitution had been
greatly tried and injured in childhood, but still it viight not
be — and that was all.
But he seemed to grow no worse, and, as it was not diffi-
cult to find a reason for these symptoms of illness in the
shock and agitation he had recently undergone, Nicholas
comforted himself with the hope that his poor friend would soon
recover. This hope his mother and sister shared with him ;
and as the object of their joint solicitude seemed to have no
uneasiness or despondency for himself, but each day answered
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 633
with a quiet smile that he felt better than he had upon the
clay before, their fears abated, and the general happiness was
by degrees restored.
Many and many a time in after years did Nicholas look
back to this period of his life, and tread again the humble
quiet homely scenes that rose up as of old before him. Many
and many a time, in the twilight of a sunmier evening, or be-
side the flickering winter's fire — but not so often or so sadly
then — would his thoughts wander back to these old days, and
dwell with a pleasant sorrow upon every slight remembrance
which they brought crowding home. The little room in which
they had so often sat long after it was dark, figuring such
happy futures ; Kate's cheerful voice and merry laugh ; how,
if she were from home they used to sit and watch for her
return, scarcely breaking silence but to say how dull it seemed
without her ; the glee with which poor Smike would start
from the darkened corner where he used to sit, and hurry to
admit her ; and the tears they often saw upon his face, half
wondering to see them too, and he so pleased and happy ;
every little incident, and even slight words and looks of those
old clays, little heeded then, but well remembered when busy
cares and trials were quite forgotten ; came fresh and thick
before him many and many a time, and, rustling above the
dusty growth of years, came back green boughs of yesterday.
But there were other persons associated with these recol-
lections, and many changes came about before they had being.
A necessary reflection for the purposes of these adventures,
which at once subside into their accustomed train, and shun-
ning all flighty anticipations or wayward wanderings, pursue
their steady and decorous course.
If the Brothers Cheeryble, as they found Nicholas worthy
of trust and confidence, bestowed upon him every day some
new and substantial mark of kindness, they were not less
mindful of those who depended on him. Various little
presents to Mrs. Nickleby, always of the very things they
most required, tended in no slight degree to the improvement
and embellishment of the cottage. Kate's little store of
trinkets became quite dazzling ; and for company ! If Brother
Charles and Brother Ned failed to look in for at least a few
minutes every Sunday, or one evening in the week, there was
Mr. Tim Linkinwater (who had never made half-a-dozen other
acquaintances in all his life, and who took such delight in his
new friends as no words can express) constantly coming and
634
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
going in his evening walks, and stopping to rest ; while Mr.
Frank Cherryble happened, by some strange conjunction of
circumstances, to be passing the door on some business or
other at least three nights in the week.
" He is the most attentive young man / ever saw, Kate,"
said Mrs. Nickleby to her daughter one evening, when this last-
named gentleman had been the subject of the worthy lady's
eulogium for some time, and Kate had sat perfectly silent.
" Attentive, mama ! " rejoined Kate.
" Bless my heart, Kate ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, with her
wonted suddenness, " what a color you have got ; why, you're
quite flushed ! "
"Oh, mama ! what strange things you fancy."
' It wasn't fancy, Kate, my dear, I'm certain of that,"
returned her mother. " However, it's gone now at any rate,
so it don't much matter whether it was or not. What was it
we were talking about? Oh ! Mr. Frank. I never saw such
attention in my life, never."
" Surely you are not serious," returned Kate, coloring
again ; and this time beyond all dispute.
" Not serious ! " returned Mrs. Nickleby ; " why shouldn't
I be serious ? Fm sure I never was more serious. I will
say that his politeness and attention to me is one of the most
becoming, gratifying, pleasant things I have seen for a very
long time. You don't often meet with such behavior in young
men, and it strikes one more when one does meet with it."
" Oh ! attention to you mama," rejoined Kate quickly —
"oh yes."
" Dear me, Kate," retorted Mrs. Nickleby, " what an ex-
traordinary girl you are. Was it likely I should be talking of
his attention to anybody else ? I declare Fm quite sorry to
think he should be in love with a German lady, that I am."
" He said very positively that it was no such thing, mama,"
returned Kate. " Don't you remember his saying so that very
first night he came here ? Besides," she added, in a more
gentle tone, " why should wc be sorry if it is the case ? What
is it to us, mama ? "
" Nothing to us, Kate, perhaps," said Mrs. Nickleby em-
phatically ; " but something to me, I confess. I like Fnglish
people, thorough Fnglish people, and not half English and
half I don't know what. I shall tell him point-blank ne.\t
time he comes, that I wish he would marry one of his own
countrywomen ; and see what he says to that."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 635
" Pray don't think of such a thing, mama," returned Kate
hastily ;" not for the world. Consider. How very "
" Well, my dear, how very what ! " said Mrs. Nickleby,
opening her eyes in great astonishment.
Before Kate had returned any reply, a queer little double-
knock announced that Miss La Creevy had called to see
them ; and when Miss La Creevy presented herself, Mrs.
Nickleby. though strongly disposed to be argumentative on
the previous question, forgot all about it in a gush of supposes
about the coach she had come by ; supposing that the man
who drove must have been either the man in the shirt-sleeves
or the man with the black-eye ; that whoever he was, he
hadn't found that parasol she left inside last week ; that no
doubt they had stopped a long while at the Halfway House,
coming down ; or that perhaps being full, they had come
straight on ; and lastly, that they, surely, must have passed
Nicholas on the road.
" I saw nothing of him," answered Miss La Creevy; "but
I saw that dear old soul Mr.Linkinwater."
" Taking his evening walk, and coming on to rest here,
before he turns back to the city, I'll be bound ! " said Mrs.
Nicklebv.
" 1 should think he was," returned Miss La Creevy ;
"especially as young Mr. Cheer}-ble was with him."
" Surely that is no reason why Mr. Linkinwater should be
coming here," said Kate.
" Why I think it is, my dear," said Miss La Creevy. " For
a young man, Mr. Frank is not a ver}- great walker; and I
observe that he generally falls tired, and requires a good long
rest, when he has come as far as this. But where is my
friend ? " said the little woman, looking about, after having
glanced slyly at Kate. " He has not been run away with
again, has he ? "
" Ah ! where is Mr. Smike ? " said Mrs. Nickleby ; " he
was here this instant."
Upon further inquir)-, it turned out, to the good lady's
unbounded astonishment, that Smike had, that moment, gone
up stairs to bed.
"W'ell, now," said Mrs. Nickleby, "he is the strangest
creature ! Last Tuesday— was it Tuesday .? Yes, to be sure
it was ; vou recollect, Kate, my dear, the m^xn last time young
Mr. Cheer)-ble was here — last Tuesday night he went ofT in
just the same strange way at the very moment the knock
636
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
came to the door. It cannot be that he don't Hke company,
because he is always fond of people who are fond of Nicholas,
and I am sure young Mr. Cheeryble is. And the strangest
thing is, that he does not go to bed ; therefore it cannot be be-
cause he is tired. I know he doesn't go to bed because my
room is the next one, and when I went up stairs last Tuesday
hours after him, I found that he had not even taken his shoes
off ; and he had no candle, so he must have sat moping in the
dark all the time. Now, upon my word," said Mrs. Nickleby,
" when I come to think of it, that's very extraordinary ! "
As the hearers did not echo this sentiment, but remained
profoundly silent, either as not knowing what to say, or as
being unwilling to interrupt, Mrs. Nickleby pursued the thread
of her discourse after her own fashion.
" I hope," said that lady, " that this unaccountable con-
duct may not be the beginning of his taking to his bed and
living there all his life, like the Thirsty Woman of Tutbury,
or the Cock-lane Ghost, or some of those extraordinary crea-
tures. One of them had some connection with our family. I
forget without looking back to some old letters I have up
stairs, whether it was my great-grandfather who went to
school with the Cock-lane Ghost, or the Thirsty Woman of
Tutbury who went to school with my grandmother. Miss La
Creevy, you know, of course. Which was it that didn't mind
what the clergyman said ? The Cock-lane Ghost or the
Thirsty Woman of Tutbury .'"'
"The Cock-lane Ghost, I believe."
" Then I have no doubt," said Mrs. Nickleby, " that it
was with him my great-grandfather went to school ; for I know
the master of his school was a dissenter, and that would, in
a great measure, account for the Cock-lane Ghost's beha\ ing
in such an improper manner to the clergyman when he grew
up. Ah ! Train up a Ghost — child, I mean .'-
Any further reflections on this fruitful theme were abruptly
cut short by the arrival of Tim Linkinwater and Mr. Frank
Cheeryble ; in the hurry of receiving whom, Mrs. Nickleby
speedily lost sight of everything else.
" 1 am so sorry Nicholas is not at home," said Mrs.
Nickleby. . " Kate, my dear, you must be both Nicholas and
yourself."
" Miss Nickleby need be but herself," said Frank.
"Then at all events she shall press you to stay," returned
Mrs. Nickleby. " Mr. Linkinwater says ten minutes, but I
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 637
cannot let you go so soon ; Nicholas would be very much
vexed, I am sure. Kate, my dear ! "
In obedience to a great number of nods, and winks, and
frowns of extra significance, Kate added her entreaties that
the visitors would remain ; but it was observed tliat she ad-
dressed them exclusively to l"im Linkinwater ; and there was,
besides a certain embarrassment in her manner, which, al-
though it was as far from impairing its graceful character as
the tinge it communicated to her cheek was from diminishing
her beauty, was obvious at a glance even to Mrs. Nickleby.
Not being of a very speculative character, however, save un-
der circumstances when her speculations could be put into
words and uttered aloud, that discreet matron attributed the
emotion to the circumstance of her daughter's not happen-
ing to have her best frock on : " though 1 never saw her look
better, certainly," she reflected at the same time. Having
settled the question in this way, and being most complacently
satisfied that in this, as in all other instances, her conjecture
could not fail to be the right one, Mrs. Nickleby dismissed it
from her thoughts, and inwardly congratulated herself on
being so shrewd and knowing.
Nicholas did not come home nor did Smike re-appear \ but
neither circumstance, to say the truth, had any great effect
upon the little party, who were all in the best humor possible.
Indeed, there sprung up quite a flirtation between Miss La
Creevy and Tim Linkinwater, who said a thousand jocose and
facetious things, and became, by degrees, quite gallant, not to
say tender. Little Miss La Creevy, on her part, was in high
spirits, and rallied Tim on having remained a bachelor all his
life with so much success, that Tim was actually induced to
declare, that if he could get anybody to have him he didn't
know but what he might change his condition even yet. Miss
La Creevy earnestly recommended a lady she knew, who
would exactly suit Mr. Linkinwater, and had a ver)' comfort-
able property of her own ; but this latter qualification had
very little effect upon Tim, who manfully protested that for-
tune would be no object with him, but that true worth and
cheerfulness of disposition were what a man should look for
in a wife, and that if he had these, he could find money
enough for the moderate wants of both. This avowal was
considered so honorable to Tim, that neither Mrs. Nickleby
nor Miss La Creevy could suflficiently extol it ; and stimulated
by their praises, Tim launched out into several other declara-
6,8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
tions also manifesting the disinterestedness of his heart, and
a great devotion to the fair sex : which were received with no
less approbation. This was done and said with a comical
mixture of jest and earnest, and, leading to a great amount
of laughter, made them very merry indeed.
Kate was commonly the life and soul of the conversation
at home ; but she was more silent than usual upon this oc-
casion (perhaps because Tim and Miss La Creevy engrossed
so much of it), and keeping aloof from the talkers, sat at the
window watching the shadows as the evening closed in, and
enjoying the quiet beauty of the night, which seemed to have
scarcely less attractions for Frank, who first lingered near,
and then sat down beside her. No doubt there are a great
many things to be said appropriate to a summer evening, and
no doubt they are best said in a low voice as being most suit-
able to the peace and serenity of the hour ; long pauses, too,
at times, and then an earnest word or so, and then another
interval of silence which, somehow, does not seem like si-
lence either, and perhaps now and then a^ hasty turning away
of the head, or drooping of the eyes towards the ground, all
these minor circumstances, with a disinclination to have
candles introduced and a tendency to confuse hours with
minutes, are doubtless mere influences of the time, as many
lovely lips can clearly testify. Neither was there the slightest
reason why Mrs. Nickleby should have expressed surprise
when, candles being at length brought in, Kate's bright eyes
were unable to bear the light which obliged her to avert her face,
and even to leave the room for some short time ; because
when one has sat in the dark so long candles are dazzling,
and nothing can be more strictly natural than that such results
should be produced, as all well-informed young people know.
For that matter, old people know it too, or did know it once,
but they forget these things sometimes, and more's the pity.
The good lady's surprise, however, did not end here. It
was greatly increased when it was discovered that Kate had
not the least appetite for supper ; a discovery so alarming
that there is no knowing in what unaccountable efforts of
oratory Mrs. Nickleby's a'ppreliensions might have been vent-
ed, if the general attention had not been attracted, at the mo-
ment, by a very strange and uncommon noise, proceeding, as
the pale and trembling servant girl affirmed, and as every-
body's sense of hearing seemed to nffirm also, "right down"
the chimney of the adjoining room.
-" NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 639
It being quite plain to the comprehension of all present
that, however extraordinary and improbable it might appear,
the noise did nevertheless proceed from the chimney in ques-
tion ; and the noise (wliich was a strange compound of \arious
shuffling, sliding, rumbling, and strugglmg sounds, all muffled
by the chimney) still continuing, Frank Cheeryble caught up
a candle, and Tim Linkinwater the tongs, and they would
have very quickly ascertained the cause of this disturbance
if Mrs. Nickleby had not been taken very faint, and declined
being left behind, on any account. This produced a short re-
monstrance, which terminated in their all proceeding to the
troubled chamber in a body, excepting only Miss La Creevy,
who, as the servant-girl volunteered a confession of having
been subject to fits in her infancy, remained with her to give
the alarm and apply restoratives, in case of extremity.
Advancing to the door of the mysterious apartment, they
were not a little surprised to hear a human voice, chaunting
with a highly elaborated expression of melancholy, and in
tones of suffocation which a human voice might have pro-
duced from under five or six feather-beds of the best quality,
the once popular air of " Has she then failed in her truth, the
beautiful maid I adore ! " Nor, on bursting into the room
without demanding a parley, was their astonishment lessened
by the discovery that these romantic sounds certainly pro-
ceeded from the throat of some man up the chimney, of whom
nothing was visible but a pair of legs, which were dangling
above the grate ; apparently feeling, with extreme anxiety,
for ♦"lie top bar whereon to effect a landing.
A sight so unusual and unbusiness-like as this, completely
paralyzed Tim Linkinwater, who, after one or two gentle
pinches at the stranger's ankles, which were productive of no
effect, stood clapping the tongs together, as if he were sharp-
ening them for another assault, and did nothing else.
" This must be some drunken fellow," said Frank. " No
thief would announce his presence thus."
As he said this, with great indignation, he raised the
candle to obtain a better view of the legs, and was darting
forward to pull them down with very little ceremony, when
Mrs. Nickleby, clasping her hands, uttered a sharp sound,
something: between a scream and an exclamation, and de-
manded to know whether the mysterious limbs were not clad
in small-clothes and gray worsted stockings, or whether her
eyes had deceived her ?
640 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
"Yes," cried Frank, looking a little closer. "Small-
clothes certainly, and — and — rough gray stockings, too. Do
you know him ma'am ? "
"Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleb}-, deliberately sitting
herself down in a chair with that sort of desperate resignation
which seemed to imply that now matters had come to a crisis,
and all disguise was useless, " you will have the goodness, my
love, to explain precisely how this matter stands. I have
given him no encouragement — none whatever — not the least
in the world. You know that, my dear, perfectly well. He
was very respectful, exceedingly respectful, when he declared,
as you were a witness to ; still at the same time, if I am to
be persecuted in this way, if vegetable what's-his-names and
all kind of garden-stuff are to strew my path out of doors,
and gentlemen are to come choking up our chimneys at home,
I really don't know — upon my word I do not know — what is
to become of me. It's a very hard case — harder than any-
thing I was ever exposed to, before I married your poor dear
papn, though I suffered a good deal of annoyance then — but
that, of course, I expected, and made up my mind for. When
I was not nearly so old as you, my dear, there was a young
gentleman who sat next us at church, who used, almost every
Sunday, to cut my name in large letters in the front of his
pew while the sermon was going on. It was gratifying, of
course, naturally so, but still it was an annoyance, because the
pew was in a very conspicuous place, and he was several
times publicly taken out by the beadle for doing it. But
that was nothing to this. This is a great deal worse, and a
great deal more embarrassing. I would rather, Kate, my
dear," said Mrs. Nickleby, with great solemnity, and an effu-
sion of tears : " I would rather, I declare, have been a pig-
faced lady, than be exposed to such a life as this ! "
Frank Cheeryble and Tim Linkinwater looked, in irre-
pressible astonishment, first at each other and then at Kate,
who felt that some explanation was necessary, but who, be-
tween her terror at the apparition of the legs, her fear lest
their owner should be smothered, and her anxiety to give the
least ridiculous solution of the mystery that it was capable of
bearing, w^as quite unable to utter a single word.
" He gives me great pain," continued Mrs. Nickleby, dr}^-
ing her eyes, " great pain ; but don't hurt a hair of his head,
I beg. On no account hurt a hair of his head."
It would not, uncier existing circumstances, have been
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 641
quite so easy to hurt a hair of the gentleman's head as Mrs.
Nickleby seemed to imagine, in as much as that part of his
person was some feet up the chimney, whicli \\as by no
means a wide one. But, as all this time, he had never left off
singing about the bankruptcy of the beautiful maid in respect
of truth, and now began not only to croak very feebly, but to
kick with great violence as if respiration became a task of
difficulty, Frank Cheeryble, without further hesitation, pulled
at the shorts and worsteds with such heartiness as to bring
him floundering into the room with greater precipitation than
he had quite calculated upon.
"Oh! yes, yes," said Kate, directly the whole figure of
this singular visitor appeared in this abrupt manner. " I
know who it is. Pray don't be rough with him. Is he hurt ?
I hope not. Oh, pray see if he is hurt."
" He is not, I assure you," replied Frank, handling the
object of his surprise, after this appeal, with sudden tender-
ness and respect. " He is not hurt in the least."
" Don't let him come any nearer," said Kate, retiring as
far as she could.
" No no, he shall not," rejoined Frank, "You see I have
him secure here. But may I ask you, what this means, and
whether you expected this old gentleman ? "
" Oh, no," said Kate, " of course not ; but he — mama
does not think so, I believe — but he is a mad gentleman who
has escaped from the next house, and must have found an
opportunity of secreting himself here."
" Kate," interposed Mrs. Nickleby with severe dignity,
" I am surprised at you."
" Dear mama," Kate gently remonstrated.
"I am surprised at you," repeated Mrs. Nickleby; "upon
my word, Kate, I am quite astonished that you should join
the persecutors of this unfortunate gentleman, when you
know very well that they have the basest designs upon this
property, and that that is the whole secret of it. It would be
much kinder of you, Kate, to ask Mr. Linkinwater or Mr.
Cheeryble to interfere in his behalf, and see him righted.
You ought not to allow your feelings to influence you ; it's
not right, very far from it. What should my feelings be, do
you suppose .? If anybody ought to be indignant, who is it }
I, of course, and very properly so. Still, at the same time, I
wouldn't commit such an injustice for the world. No," con-
tinued Mrs, Nickleby, drawing herself up, and looking
41
642 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
another way with a kind of bashful stateUness ; •' this gentle-
man will understand me when I tell him that I repeat the
answer I gave him the other day ; that I always will repeat it,
though I do believe him to be sincere when I find him placing
himself in such dreadfi;! situations on my account ; and that
I request him to have the goodness to go away directly, or it
will be impossible to keep his behavior a secret from my son
Nicholas. I am obliged to him, very much obliged to him,
but I cannot listen to his addresses for a moment. It's quite
impossible."
While this address was in course of delivery, the old
gentleman, with his nose and cheeks embellished with large
patches of soot, sat upon the ground with his arms folded,
eyeing the spectators in profound silence, and with a very
majestic demeanor. He did not appear to take the smallest
notice of what Mrs. Nickleby said, but when she ceased to
speak he honored her with a long stare, and inquired if she
had quite finished ?
"I have nothing more to say," replied that lady modestly
"I really cannot say anything more."
" Very good," said the old gentleman, raising his voice,
" then bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a
corkscrew."
Nobody executing this order, the old gentleman, after a
short pause, raised his voice again, and demanded a thunder
sandwich. This article not being forthcoming either, he re-
quested to be served with a fricassee of boot-tops and gold-
fish sauce, and then laughing heartily, gratified his hearers
with a very long, very loud, and most melodious bellow.
But still Mrs. Nickleby, in reply to the significant looks of
all about her, shook her head as though to assure them that
she saw nothing whatever in all this, unless, indeed, it were a
slight degree of eccentricity. She might have remained im-
pressed with these opinions down to the latest moment of her
life but for a slight train of circumstances, which, trivial as
they were, altered the whole complexion of the case.
It happened that Miss La Creevy, finding her patient in
no very threatening condition, and being strongly impelled by
curiosity to see what was going forward, bustled into the
room while the old gentleman was in the very act of bellow-
ing. It happened, "too, that the instant the old gentleman saw
her, he stopped short, skipped suddenly on his feet, and fell
to kissing his hand violently : a change of demeanor which
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 643
almost terrified the little portrait-painter out of her senses, and
caused her to retreat behind Tim Linkinwater with the utmost
expedition.
" Aha ! " cried the old gentleman, folding his hands, and
squeezing them with great force against each other. " I see
her now, I see her now ! My love, my life, my bride, my
peerless beauty. She is come at last — at last — and all is gas
and gaiters ! "
Mrs. Nickleby looked rather disconcerted for a moment,
but immediately recovering, nodded to Miss La Creevy and
the other spectators several times, and frowned, and smiled
gravely ; giving them to understand that she saw where the
mistake was, and would set it all to rights in a minute or two.
" She is come ! " said the old gentleman, laying his hand
upon his heart. " Cormoran and Blunderbore ! She is come !
All the wealth I have is hers if she will take me for her slave.
Where are grace, beauty, and blandishments, like those. In
the Empress of Madagascar ? No. In the Queen of Dia-
monds ? No. In Mrs. Rowland, who every morning bathes
in Kalydor for nothing ? No. Melt all these down into one,
with the three graces, the nine Muses, and fourteen biscuit-
bakers' daughters from Oxford-street, and make a woman half
as lovely. Pho ! I defy you."
After uttering this rhapsody, the old gentleman snapped
his fingers twenty or thirty times, and then subsided into an
ecstatic contemplation of Miss La Creevy's charms. This
affording Mrs. Nickleby a favorable opportunity of explana-
tion, shs went about it straight.
" I am sure," said the worthy lady, with a prefatory
cough, "that it's a great relief, under such trying circum-
stances as these, to "have anybody else mistaken for me — a
very great relief ; and it's a circumstance that never occurred
before, although I have several times been mistaken for my
daughter Kate. I have no doubt the people were very fool-
ish, and perhaps ought to have known better, but still they
did take me for her, and of course that was no fault of mine,
and it would very hard indeed if I was to be made responsi-
ble for it. However, in this instance, of course, I must feel
that I should do exceedingly wrong if I suffered anybody —
especially anybody that I "am under great obligations to— to
be made uncomfortable on my account. And therefore I think
it my duty to tell that gentleman that he is mistaken, that 1
am the lady who he was told by some impertinent person was
644
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
niece to the Council of Paving-stones, and that I do beg and
entreat of him to go quietly away, if it's only for," here
here Mrs. Nickleby simpered and hesitated, " for my sake."
It might have been expected that the old gentleman would
have been penetrated to the heart by the delicacy and con-
descension of this appeal, and that he would at least have
returned a courteous and suitable reply. What, then, was the
shock which Mrs. Nickleby received, when, accosting her in
the most unmistakable manner, he replied in a loud and
sonorous voice : " Avaunt ! Cat ! "
" Sir ! " cried Mrs. Nickleby, in a faint tone.
" Cat ! " repeated the old gentleman. " Puss, Kit, Tit,
Grimalkin, Tabby, Brindle ! Whoosh ! " With which last
sound, uttered in a hissing manner between his teeth, the old
gentleman swung his arms violently round and round, and at
the same time alternately advanced on Mrs. Nickleby, and re-
treated from her, in that species of savage dance with whicli
boys on market-days may be seen to frighten pigs, sheep, and
other animals, when they give out obstinate indications of
turning down a wrong street.
Mrs. Nickleby wasted no words, but uttered an exclama-
tion of horror and surprise, and immediately fainted away.
" I'll attend to mama," said Kate hastily ; " I am not at all
frightened. But pray take him away ; pray take him away ! "
Frank was not at all confident of his power of complying
with this request, until he bethought himself of the stratagem
of sending Miss La Creevy on a few paces in advance, and
urging the old gentleman to follow her. It succeeded to a
miracle ; and he went away in a rapture of admiration,
strongly guarded by Tim Linkinwater on one side, and Frank
himself on the other.
" Kate," murmured Mrs. Nickleby, reviving when the
coast was clear, " is he gone ? "
She was assured that he was.
"I shall never forgive myself, Kate," said Mrs. Nickleby;
"' never ! That gentleman has lost his senses, and / am the
unhappy cause."
" You the cause ! " said Kate, greatly astonished.
"I, my love," replied Mrs. Nickleby, with a desperate
calmness. " You saw what he was the other day ; you see
what he is now. I told your brother, weeks and weeks ago,
Kate, that I hoped a disappointment might not be too much
for him. You see what a wreck he is. Making allowance for
NICHOLAS NICA'LEB V. 645
his being a little flighty, you know how rationally and sensibly
and honorably he talked, when we saw him in the garden.
You have heard the dreadful nonsense he has been guilty of,
this night, and the manner in which he has gone on with that
poor unfortunate little old maid. Can anybody doubt how
all this has been brought about ! "
" I should scarcely think they could," said Kate mildly.
"/should scarcely think so, either," rejoined her mother.
" Well ! if I am the unfortunate cause of this, I have the
satisfaction of knowing that I am not to blame. I told Nich-
olas. I said to him, ' Nicholas, my dear, we should be very
careful how we proceed.' He would scarcely hear me. If
the matter had only been properly taken up at first, as I
wished it to be ! But you are both of you so like your poor
papa. Howe^'er, I have wj' consolation, and that should be
enough for me ! "
Washing her hands, thus, of all responsibility under this
head, past, present, or to come, Mrs. Nickleby kindly added
that she hoped her children might never have greater cause to
reproach themselves than she had, and prepared herself to re-
ceive the escort, which soon returned with the intelligence
that the old gentleman was safely housed, and that they
found his custodians, who had been making merry with some
friends, wholly ignorant of his absence.
Quiet being again restored, a delicious half hour — so
Frank called it, in the course of subsequent conversation with
Tim Linkinwater as they were walking home — was spent in
conversation, and Tim's watch at length apprising him that it
was high time to depart, the ladies were left alone, though
not without many offers on the part of Frank to remain until
Nicholas arrived, no matter what hour of the night it might
,be, if, after the late neighborly irruption, they entertained the
least fear of being left to themselves. As their freedom from
all further apprehension, however, left no pretext for his in-
sisting on mounting guard, he was obliged to abandon the
citadel, and to retire with the trusty Tim.
Nearly three hours of silence passed away. Kate blushed
to find, when Nicholas returned, how long she had been sit-
ting alone, occupied with her own thoughts.
" I really thought it had not been half an hour," she said.
" They must have been pleasant thoughts, Kate," rejoined
Nicholas gayly, " to make time pass away like that. What
were they now ? "
646 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
Kate was confused ; she toyed with some trifle on the
table, looked up and smiled, looked down and dropped a tear.
" Why, Kate," said Nicholas, drawing his sister towards
him and kissing her, " let me see your face. No ? Ah ! that
was but a glimpse ; that's scarcely fair. A longer look than
that, Kate. Come — and I'll read your thoughts for you."
There was something in this proposition, albeit it was said
without the slightest consciousness or application, which so
alarmed his sister, that Nicholas laughingly changed the sub-
ject to domestic matters, and thus gathered, by degrees, as
they left the room and went up stairs together, how lonely
Smike had been all night — and by very slow degrees, too ;
for on this subject also, Kate seemed to speak with some re-
luctance.
" Poor fellow," said Nicholas, tapping gently at his door,
" what can be the cause of all this .' "
Kate was hanging on her brother's arm. The door being
quickly opened, she had not time to disengage herself, before
Smike, very pale and haggard, and completely dressed, con-
fronted them.
" And have you not been to bed ? " said Nicholas.
" N — n — no," was the reply.
Nicholas gently detained his sister, who made an effort to
retire ; and asked, " Why not ? "
" I could not sleep," said Smike, grasping the hand which
his friend extended to him.
" You are not well ? " rejoined Nicholas.
" I am better, indeed. A great deal better," said Smike
quickly.
" Then why do you give way to these fits of melancholy ? "
inquired Nicholas, in his kindest manner ; " or why not tell
us the cause .-* You grow a different creature, Smike." ,
"1 do ; I know I do," he replied. "I will tell you the
reason one day, but not now. I hate myself for this ; you are
all so good and kind. But I cannot help it. My heart is very
full ; you do not know how full it is."
He wrung Nicholas's hand before he released it ; and,
glancing, for a moment, at the brother and sister as they stood
together, as if there were something in their strong affection
which touched him deeply, withdrew into his chamber, and
was soon the only watcher under that quiet roof.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 647
CHAPTER L.
INVOLVES A SERIOUS CATASTROPHE.
The little race-course of Hampton was in the full tide and
height of its gayety ; the day as dazzling as day could be ; the
sun high in the cloudless sky, and shining in its fullest si^len-
dor. Every gaudy color that fluttered in the air from carriage
seat and garish tent top, shone out in its gaudiest hues. Old
dingy flags grew new again, faded gilding was re-burnished,
stained rotten canvas looked a snowy white, the very beggars'
rags were freshened up, and sentiment quite forgot its charity
in its fervent admiration of poverty so picturesque.
It was one of those scenes of life and animation, caught
in its very brightest and freshest moments, which can scarcely
fail to please ; for, if the eye be tired of show and glare, or
the ear be weary with a ceaseless round of noise, the one may
repose, turn almost where it will, on eager, happy, and expec-
tant faces, and the other deaden all consciousness of more
annoying sounds in those of mirth and exhilaration. Even
the sunburnt faces of gipsy children, half naked though they
be, suggest a drop of comfort. It is a pleasant thing to see
that the sun has been there ; to know that the air and light
are on them every day ; to feel that they are children, and
lead children's lives ; that if their pillows be damp, it is with
the dews of Heaven, and not with tears : that the limbs of
their girls are free, and that they are not crippled by distor-
tions, imposing an unnatural and horrible penance upon their
sex ; that their lives are spent, from day to day, at least among
the waving trees, and not in the midst of dreadful engines
which make young children old before they know what child-
hood is, and give them the exhaustion and infirmity of age,
without, like age, the privilege to die. God send that old
nursery tales were true, and that gipsies stole such children by
the score ! ■
The great race of the day had just been run ; and the close
lines of people, on either side of the course, suddenly break-
ing up and pouring into it, imparted a new liveliness to the
scene, which was again all busy movement. Some, hurried
eagerly to catch a glimpse of the winning horse ; others darted
648 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
to and fro, searching, no less eagerly, for the carriage they
had left in quest of better stations. Here, a little knot
gathered round a pea and thimble table to watch the plucking
of some unhappy greenhorn ; and there, another proprietor
with his confederates in various disguises — one man in specta-
cles, another, with an eye-glass and a stylish hat ; a third,
dressed as a farmer well to do in the world, with his top-coat
over his arm and his flash notes in a large leathern pocket-
book ; and all with heavy-handled whips to represent most in-
nocent country fellows who had trotted there on horseback —
sought, by loud and noisy talk and pretended play, to entrap
some unwary customer, while the gentlemen confederates (of
more villanous aspect still, in clean linen and good clothes,)
betrayed their close interest in the concern by the anxious fur-
tive glance they cast on all new comers. These would be
hanging on the outskirts of a wide circle of people assembled
round some itinerant juggler, opposed, in his turn, by a noisy
band of music, or the classic game of " Ring the Bull," while
ventriloquists holding dialogues with wooden dolls, and for-
tune-telling women smothering the cries of real babies, divided
with them, and many more, the general attention of the com-
pany. Drinking-tents were full, glasses began to clink in
carriages, hampers to be unpacked, tempting provisions to be
set forth, knives and forks to rattle, champagne corks to fly,
eyes to brighten that were not dull before, and pickpockets to
count their gains during the last heat. The attention so re-
cently strained on one object of interest, was now divided
among a hundred ; and, look where you would, there was a
motley assemblage of feasting, laughing, talking, begging,
gambling, and mummery.
Of the gambling-booths there was a plentiful show,
flourishing in all the splendor of carpeted ground, striped
hangings, crimson cloth, pinnacled roofs, geranium pots, and
livery servants. There were the Stranger's club-house, the
Athenasum club-house, the Hampton club-house, the Saint
James's club-house, half-a-mile of club-houses, to play /// ,•
and there were rouge-et-noir, French hazard, and other games,
to play at. It is into one of these booths that our story takes
its way.
Fitted up with three tables for the purposes of play, and
crowded with players and lookers on, it was, although the
largest place of the kind upon the course, intensely hot,
notwithstanding that a portion of the canvas roof was rolled
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 649
back to admit more air, and there were two doors for a free
passage in and out. Excepting one or two men who, each
with a long roll of half-crowns chequered with a few stray
sovereigns, in his left hand, staked their money at every roll
of the ball with a business-like sedateness which showed that
they were used to it, and had been playing all day, and most
probably all the day before, there was no very distinctive
character about the players. They were chiefly young men,
apparently attracted by curiosity, or staking small sums as
part of the amusement of the day, with no very great interest
m winning or losing. There were two persons present, how-
ever, who, as peculiarly good specimens of a class, deserve a
passing notice.
Of these, one was a man of six or eight and fifty, who sat
on a chair near one of the entrances of the booth, with his
hands folded on the top of his stick, and his chin appearing
above them. He was a tall, fat, long-bodied man, buttoned
up to the throat in a light green coat, which made his body
look still longer than it was. He wore, besides, drab breeches
and gaiters, a white neckerchief, and a broad-brimmed white
hat. Amid all the buzzing noise of the games, and the per-
petual passing in and out of people, he seemed perfectly calm
and abstracted, without the smallest particle of excitement in
his composition. He exhibited no indication of weariness,
nor, to a casual obser^^er, of interest either. There he sat,
quite still and collected. Sometimes, but very rarely, he
nodded to some passing face, or beckoned to a waiter to obey
a call from one of the tables. The next instant he subsided
into his old state. He might have been some profoundly
deaf old gentleman, who had come in to take a rest, or he
might have been patiently waiting for a friend, without the
least consciousness of anybody's presence, or he might have
been fixed in a trance, or under the influence of opium.
People turned round and looked at him ; he made no gesture,
caught nobody's eye, let them pass away, and others come on
and be succeeded by others, and took no notice. When he
did move, it seemed wonderful how he could have seen any-
thing to occasion it. And so, in truth, it was. But there was
not a face that passed in or out, which this man failed to see ;
not a gesture at any one of the three tables that was lost
upon him ; not a word, spoken by the bankers, but reached
his ear ; not a winner or loser he could not have marked.
And he was the proprietor of the place.
650 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
The other presided over the rouge-et-noir table. He was •
probably some ten years younger, and was a plump, paunchy,
sturdy-looking fellow, with his underlip a little pursed, from a
habit of counting money inwardly as he paid it, but with no
decidedly bad expression in his face, which was rather an
honest and jolly one than otherwise. He wore no coat, the
weather being hot, and stood behind the table with a huge
mound of crowns and half crowns before him, and a cash-box
for notes. This game was constantly playing. Perhaps
twenty people would be staking at the same time. This man
had to roll the ball, to watch the stakes as they were laid
down, to gather them off the color which lost, to pay those
who won, to do it all with the utmost despatch, to roll the
ball again, and to keep this game perpetually alive. He did
it all with a rapidity absolutely marvellous ; never hesitating,
never making a mistake, never stopping, and never ceasing to
repeat such unconnected phrases as the following, which,
partly from habit, and partly to have something appropriate
and business-like to say, he constantly poured out with the
same monotonous emphasis, and in nearly the same order, all
day long :
" Rooge-a-nore from Paris ! Gentlemen, make your game
and back your own opinions — any time while the ball rolls —
rooge-a-nore from Paris, gentlemen, it's a French game,
gentlemen, I brought it over myself, I did indeed ! — Rooge-a-
nore from Paris — black wins — black — stop a minute, sir, and
I'll pay you directly — two there, half a pound there, three
there — and one there — gentlemen, the ball's a rolling — any
time, sir, while the ball rolls ! — The beauty of this game is,
that you can double your stakes or put down your money,
gentlemen, any time while the ball rolls — black again —
black wins — I never saw such a thing — I never did, in all my
life, upon my word I never did ; if any gentleman had been
backing the black in the last five minutes he must have won
five and forty pound in four rolls of the ball, he must indeed.
Gentlemen, we've port, sherry, cigars, and most excellent
champagne. Here, wai-ter, bring a bottle of champagne, and
let's have a dozen or fifteen cigars here — and let's be com-
fortable, gentlemen — and bring some clean glasses — any time
while the ball rolls ! — I lost one hundred and thirty-seven
pound yesterday, gentlemen, at one roll of the ball, I did
indeed ! — how do you do, sir " (recognizing some knowing
gentleman without any halt or change of voice, and giving a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 65 1
wink so slight that it seems an accident), " will you take a
glass of sherty, sir — here, wai-ter ! bring a clean glass, arid
hand the sherry to this gentleman — and hand it round, will
you, waiter — this is the rooge-a-nore from Paris, gentlemen —
any time while the ball rolls ! — gentlemen, make your game,
and back your own opinions — it's the rooge-a-nore from Paris
— quite a new game, I brought it over myself, I did indeed —
gentlemen, the ball's a rolling ! "
This officer was busily plying his vocation when half-a-
dozen persons sauntered through the booth, to whom, but
without stopping either in his speech or \vork, he bowed
respectfully ; at the same time, directing, by a look, the
attention of a man beside him to the tallest figure in the
group, in recognition of whom the proprietor pulled off his
hat. This was Sir Mulberry Hawk, with whom were his
friend and pupil, and a small train of gentlemanly-dressed
men, of characters more doubtful than obscure.
The proprietor, in a low voice, bade Sir Mulberry good-
day. Sir Mulberry, in the same tone, bade the proprietor go
to the devil, and turned to speak with his friends.
There was evidendy an irritable consciousness about him
that he was an object of curiosity, on this first occasion of
showing himself in public after the accident that had befallen
him ; and it was easy to perceive that he appeared on the
race-course, that day, more in the hope of meeting wdth a
great many people who knew him, and so getting over as
much as possible of the annoyance at once, than with any
purpose of enjoying the sport. There yet remained a slight
scar on his face, and whenever he was recognized, as he was
almost every minute by people sauntering in and out, he made
a restless effort to conceal it with his gloves ; showing how
keenly he felt the disgrace he had undergone.
"Ah! Hawk," said one very sprucely dressed personage
in a Newmarket coat, a choice neckerchief, and all other
accessories of the most unexceptionable kind. " How d'ye
do, old fellow ? "
This was a rival trainer of young noblemen and gentlemen,
and the person of all others whom Sir Mulberry most hated
and dreaded to meet. They shook hands with excessive
cordiality.
" And how are you now, old fellow, hey ? "
" Quite well, quite well," said Sir Mulberry.
" That's right," said the other. " How d'ye do, Lord Fred-
652
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
erick ? He's a little pulled down, our friend here. Rather
out of condition still, hey ? "
It should be observed that the gentleman had very white
teeth, and that when there was no excuse for laughing, he
generally finished with the same monosyllable, which he
uttered so as to display them.
" He's in very good condition ; there's nothing the matter
with him," said the young man carelessly.
" Upon my soul I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the other.
" Have you just returned from Brussels ? "
" We only reached town late last night," said Lord Fred-
erick. Sir Mulberry turned away to speak to one of his own
party, and feigned not to hear.
" Now, upon my life," said the friend, affecting to speak
in a whisper, "it's an uncommonly bold and game thing in
Hawk to show himself so soon. I say it advisedly ; there's a
vast deal of courage in it. You see he has just rusticated
long enough to excite curiosity, and not long enough for men
to have forgotten that deuced unpleasant — by the bye — you
know the rights of the affair, of course ? Why did you never
give those confounded papers the lie ? I seldom read the
papers, but I looked in the papers for that, and may I be — "
" Look in the papers," interrupted Sir Mulberry, turning
suddenly round, "to-morrow — no, next day."
" Upon my life, my dear fellow, I seldom or never read
the papers," said the other, shrugging his shoulders, " but I
will, at your recommendation. What shall I look for ?"
"Good-day," said Sir Mulberry, turning abruptly on his
heel, and drawing his pupil with him. Falling, again, into the
loitering careless pace at which they had entered, they
lounged out, arm in arm.
" I won't give him a case of murder to read," muttered
Sir Mulberry, with an oath ; " but it shall be something very
near it, if whip-cord cuts and bludgeons bruise."
His companion said nothing, but there was something in
his manner which galled Sir Mulberry to add, with nearly as
much ferocity as if his friend had been Nicholas himself :
" I sent Jenkins to old Nickleby before eight o'clock this
morning. He's a stanch one ; he was back with me before
the messenger. I had it a]l from him in the first five minutes.
I know where thiSlTOund is to be met with ; time and place
both. But there's no need to talk ; to-morrow will soon be
here."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Hz
" And wha-at's to be done to-morrow ? " inquired Lord
Frederick.
Sir Mulberry Hawk honored him with an angry glance,
but condescended to return no verbal answer to the inquiry.
Both walked sullenly on, as though their thoughts were busily
occupied, until they were quite clear of the crowd, and almost
alone, when Sir Mulberry wheeled round to return.
" Stop," said his companion, " I want to speak to you in
earnest. Don't turn back. Let us walk here a few minutes."
" What have you to say to me, that you could not say
yonder as well as here ? " returned his Mentor, disengaging
his arm.
" Hawk," rejoined the other, " tell me ; I must know."
" Must know," interrupted the other disdainfully. " Whew !
Go on. If you must know, of course there's no escape for
me. Must know ! "
" Must ask then," returned Lord Frederick, and must press
you for a plain and straightforward answer. Is what you
have just said, only a mere whim of the moment, occasioned
by your being out of humor and irritated, or is it your serious
intention, and one that you have actually contemplated ? "
" Why, don't you remember what passed on the subject
one night, when I was laid up with a broken limb ? " said Sir
Mulberry, with a sneer,
"Perfectly well."
" Then take that for an answer, in the devil's name," re-
plied Sir Mulberry, " and ask me for no other."
Such was the ascendancy he had acquired over his dupe,
and such the latter's general habit of submission, that, for the
moment, the young man seemed half afraid to pursue the sub-
ject. He soon overcame this feeling, however, if it had re-
strained him at all, and retorted angrily :
" If I remember what passed at the time you speak of, I
expressed a strong opinion on this subject, and said that, with
my knowledge or consent, you never should do what you
threaten now."
" Will you prevent me .'' ■' asked Sir Mulberry, with a
laugh.
" Ye-es, if I can ; " returned the other, promptly.
" A very proper saving clause, that last," said Sir Mul-
berry ; " and one you stand in need of. Look to your own
business, and leave me to look to mine."
"This is mine," retorted Lord Frederick. "I make it
654
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
mine ; I will make it mine. It's mine already. I'm more
compromised than I should be, as it is."
" Do as you please and what you please, for yourself,"
said Sir Mulberry, affecting an easy good humor. " Surely that
must content you ! Do nothing for me ; that's all. I advise no
man to interfere in proceedings that I choose to take. I am
sure you know me better than to do so. The fact is, I see, you
mean to offer me advice. It is well meant, I have no doubt,
but I reject it. Now, if you please, we will return to the car-
riage. I find no entertainment here, but quite the reverse.
If we prolong this conversation we might quarrel, which would
be no proof of wisdom in either you or me."
With this rejoinder, and waiting for no further discussion,
Sir Mulberry Hawk yawned, and very leisurely turned back.
There was not a little tact and knowledge of the young
lord's disposition in this mode of treating him. Sir Mulberry
clearly saw that if his dominion were to last, it must be estab-
lished now. He knew that the moment he became violent,
the young man would become violent too. He had, many
times, been enabled to strengthen his influence, when any cir-
cumstance had occurred to weaken it, by adopting this cool
and laconic style ; and he trusted to it now, with very little
doubt of its entire success.
But while he did this and wore the most careless and
indifferent deportment that his practised arts enabled him to
assume, he inwardly resolved, not only to visit all the morti-
fication of being compelled to suppress his feelings, with ad-
ditional severity upon Nicholas, but also to make the young
lord pay dearly for it, one day, in some shape or other. So
long as he had been a passive instrument in his hands, Sir
Mulberry had regarded him with no other feeling than con-
tempt ; but, now that he presumed to avow opinions in oppo-
sition to his, and even to turn upon him with a lofty tone and
an air of superiority, he began to hate him. Conscious that, in
the vilest and most worthless sense of the term, he was de-
pendent upon the weak young lord. Sir Mulberry could the
less brook humiliation at his hands ; and when he began to
dislike him he measured his dislike — as men often do — by the
extent of the injuries he had inflicted upon its object. When
it is remembered that Sir Mulberry Hawk had plundered,
duped, deceived, and fooled his pupil in every possible way, it
will not be wondered at, that, beginning to hate him, he be-
gan to hate him cordially.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 655
On the other hand, the younj^ lord having thought — which
he very seldom did about anything — and seriously too, upon
the affair with Nicholas, and the circumstances which led to
it, had arrived at a manly and honest conclusion. Sir Mul-
berry's coarse and insulting behavior on the occasion in ques-
tion had produced a deep impression on his mind ; a strong
suspicion of his having led him on to pursue Miss Nickleby
for purposes of his own, had been lurking there, for some
time ; he was really ashamed of his share in the transaction,
and deeply mortified by the misgiving that he had been gulled.
He had had sufficient leisure to reflect upon these things,
during their late retirement ; and, at times, when his careless
and indolent nature would permit, had availed himself of the
opportunity. Slight circumstances, too, had occurred to in-
crease his suspicion. It wanted but a very slight circum-
stance to kindle his wrath against Sir Mulberry. This his
disdainful and insolent tone in their recent conversation (the
only one they had held upon the subject since the period to
which Sir Mulberry referred), effected.
Thus they rejoined their friends : each with causes of dis-
like against the other, rankling in his breast : the young man
haunted, besides, with thoughts of the vindictive retaliation
which was threatened against Nicholas, and the determination
to prevent it by some strong step, if possible. But this was
not all. Sir Mulberry, conceiving that he had silenced him
effectually, could not suppress his triumph, or forbear from
following up what he conceived to be his advantage. Mr.
Pyke was there, and Mr. Pluck was there, and Colonel Chou-
ser, and other gentlemen of the same caste was there, and it
was a great point for Sir Mulberry to show them that he had
not lost his influence. At first, the young lord contented him-
self with a silent determination to take measures for with-
drawing himself from the connection immediately. By degrees,
he grew more angry, and was exasperated by jests and fa-
miliarities which, a few hours before, would have been a source
of amusement to him. This did not serve him ; for, at such
bantering or retort as suited the company, he was no match
for Sir Mulberry. Still, no violent rupture took place. They
returned to town ; Messrs. Pyke and Pluck and other gentle-
men frequently protesting on the way thither, that Sir Mul-
berry had never been in such tiptop spirits in all his life.
They dined together, sumptuously. The wine flowed
freely, as indeed it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank, to
6 c 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
recompense himself for his recent abstinence ; the young lord,
to drown his indignation ; the remainder of the party, because
the wine was of the best and they had nothing to pay. It
was nearly midnight when they rushed out, wild, burning with
wine, their blood boiling, and their brains on fire, to the
gaming-table.
Here they encountered another party, mad like them-
selves. The excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights,
was not calculated to allay the fever of the time. In that
giddy whirl of noise and confusion, the men were delirious.
Who thought of money, ruin, or the morrow, in the savage in-
toxication of the moment .=* More wine was called for, glass
after glass was drained, their parched and scalding mouths
were cracked with thirst. Down poured the wine like oil on
blazing fire. And still the riot went on. The debauchery
gained its height ; glasses were dashed upon the floor by
hands that could not carry them to lips ; oaths were shouted
out by lips which could scarcely form the words to vent them
in ; drunken losers cursed and roared ; some mounted on
the tables, waving bottles above their heads, and bidding de-
fiance to the rest ; somq danced, some sang, some tore the
cards and raved. Tumult and frenzy reigned supreme ; when
a noise arose that drowned all others, and two men, seizing
each other by the throat, struggled into the middle of the
room.
A dozen voices, until now unheard, called aloud to part
them. Those who had kept themselves cool, to win, and who
earned their living in such scenes, threw themselves upon the
combatants, and, forcing them asunder, dragged them some
space apart.
" Let me go ! " cried Sir Mulberry, in a thick hoarse voice.
" He struck me ! Do you hear ? I say, he struck me. Have
I a friend here ? Who is this t Westwood. Do you hear me
say he struck me ! "
" I hear, I hear," replied one of those who held him.
" Come away, for to-night ! "
" I will not, by G — ," he replied. " A dozen men about
us saw the blow."
"To-morrow will be ample time," said the friend.
" It will not be ample time ! " cried Sir Mulberry. " To-
night, at once, here ! " His passion was so great, that he
could not articulate, but stood clenching his fist, tearing his
hair, and stamping on the ground.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
657
*' What is this, my lord ? " said one of those vs^ho sur-
rounded him. " Have blows passed ? "
" One blow has," was the panting reply. " I struck him.
I proclaim it to all here ! I struck him, and he knows why.
I say, with him, let this quarrel be adjusted now. Captain
Adams," said the young lord, looking hurriedly about him,
and addressing one of those who had interposed, " Let me
speak with you, I beg."
The person addressed, stepped forward, and, taking the
young man's arm, they retired together, followed shortly after-
wards by Sir Mulberry and his friend.
It was a profligate haunt of the worst repute, and not a
place in which such an affair was likely to awaken any sym-
pathy for either party, or to call forth any further remon-
strance or interposition. Elsewhere, its further progress would
have been instantly prevented, and time allowed for sober and
cool reflection ; but not there. Disturbed in their orgies, the
party broke up ; some reeled away with looks of tipsy gravity ;
others withdrew, noisily discussing what had just occurred ;
the gentlemen of honor who lived upon their winnings re-
marked to each other, as they went out, that Hawk was a good
shot ; those who had been most noisy, fell fast asleep upon
the sofas, and thought no more about it.
Meanwhile, the two seconds, as they may be called now,
after a long conference, each with his principal, met together in
another room. Both utterly heartless, both men upon town,
both thoroughly initiated in its worst vices, both deeply in
debt, both fallen from some higher estate, both addicted to
ever}^ depravity for which society can find some genteel name
and plead its most depraving conventionalities as an excuse,
they were, naturally, gentlemen of unblemished honor them-
selves, and of great nicety concerning the honor of other
people.
These two gentlemen were unusually cheerful, just now ;
for the affair was pretty certain to make some noise, and could
scarcely fail to enhance their reputations.
" This is an awkward affair, Adams," said Mr. Westwood,
drawing himself up,
" Very," returned the captain ; " a blow has been struck,
and there is but one course, of course."
" No apology, I suppose ? " said Mr. Westwood.
" Not a syllable, sir, from my man, if we talk till dooms
day," returned the captain. " The original cause of dispute,
42
658 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
I understand, was some girl or other, to whom your principal
applied certain terms, which Lord Frederick, defending the
girl, repelled. But this led to a long recrimination upon a
great many sore subjects, charges, and counter-charges. Sir
Mulberry was sarcastic ; Lord Frederick was excited, and
struck him in the heat of provocation, and under circum-
stances of great aggravation. The blow, unless there is a full
retraction on the part of Sir Mulberrj^, Lord Frederick is ready
to justify."
" There is no more to be said," returned the other, " but
to settle the hour and the place of meeting. It's a responsi-
bility ; but there is a strong feeling to have it over. Do you
object to say at sunrise ? "
" Sharp work," replied the captain, referring to his watch,
" however, as this seems to have been a long time breeding,
and negotiation is only a waste of words, no."
" Something may possibly be said, out of doors, after what
passed in the other room, which renders it desirable that we
should be off without delay, and quite clear of town," said
Mr. Westwood. " What do you say to one of the meadows
opposite Twickenham, by the river-side? "
The captain saw no objection.
" Shall we join company in the avenue of trees which leads
from Petersham to Ham House, and settle the exact spot
when we arrive there ? " said Mr. Westwood.
To this the captain also assented. After a few other pre-
liminaries, equally brief, and having settled the road each
party should take to avoid suspicion, they separated.
"We shall just have comfortable time, my lord," said the
captain, when he had communicated the arrangements, " to
call at my rooms for a case of pistols, and then jog coolly
down. If you will allow me to dismiss your servant, we'll
take my cab ; for yours, perhaps, might be recognized."
What a contrast, when they reached the street, to the
scene they had just left ! It was already daybreak. For the
flaring yellow light within, was substituted the clear, bright,
glorious morning ; for a hot, close atmosphere, tainted with
the smell of expiring lamps, and reeking with the steams of
riot and dissipation, the free, fresh, wholesome air. But to
the fevered head on which that cool air blew, it seemed to
come laden with remorse for time mis-spent and countless
opportunities neglected. With throbbing veins and burning
skin, eyes wild and heavy, thoughts hurried and disordered,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 659
he felt as though the light were a reproach, and shrank in-
voluntarily from the day as if he were some foul and hideous
thing.
" Shivering ? " said the captain. " You are cold."
" Rather."
" It does strike cool, coming out of those hot rooms. Wrap
that cloak about you. So, so ; now we're off."
They rattled through the quiet streets, made their call at
the captain's lodgings, cleared the town, and emerged upon
the open road without hindrance or molestation.
Fields, trees, gardens, hedges, everything looked very
beautiful ; the young man scarcely seemed to have noticed
them before, though he had passed the same objects a
thousand times. There was a peace and serenity upon them
all, strangely at variance with the bewilderment and confusion
of his own half-sobered thoughts, and yet impressive and
welcome. He had no fear upon his mind ; but, as he looked
about him, he had less anger ; and though all delusions,
relative to his worthless late companion, were now cleared
away, he rather wished he had never known him than thought
of its having come to this.
The past night, the day before, and many other days and
nights beside, all mingled themselves up in one unintelligible
and senseless whirl ; he could not separate the transactions of
one time from those of another. Now, the noise of the wheels
resolved itself into some wild tune in which he could recognize
scraps of airs he knew ; now, there was nothing in his ears but
a stunning and bewildering sound, like rushing water. But
his companion rallied him on being so silent, and they talked
and laughed boisterously. When they stopped, he was a little
surprised to find himself in the act of smoking ; but, on reflec-
tion, he remembered when and where he had taken the cigar.
They stopped at the avenue gate and alighted, leaving the
carriage to the care of the servant, who was a smart fellow,
and nearly as well accustomed to such proceedings as his
master. Sir Mulberry and his friend were already there. All
four walked in profound silence, up the aisle of stately elm
trees, which, meeting far above their heads, formed a long
green perspective of gothic arches, terminating, like some old
ruin, in the open sky.
After a pause, and a brief conference between the seconds,
they, at length, turned to the right, and taking a track across
a little meadow, passed Ham House and came into some
fields beyond. In one of these, they stopped. The ground
66o NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
was measured, some usual forms gone through, the two
principals were placed front to front at the distance agreed
upon, and Sir Mulberry turned his face towards his young
adversary for the first time. He was very pale, his eyes were
bloodshot, his dress disordered, and his hair dishevelled. For
the face, it expressed nothing but violent and evil passions.
He shaded his eyes with his hand ; gazed at his opponent,
steadfastly, for a few moments ; and then taking the weapon
which was tendered to him, bent his eyes upon that, and
looked up no more until the word was given, when he instantly
fired.
The two shots were fired, as nearly as possible, at the
same instant. In that instant, the young lord turned his head
sharply round, fixed upon his adversar}^ a ghastly stare, and,
without a groan or stagger, fell down dead.
" He's gone ! " cried Westwood, who, with the other second
had run up to the body, and fallen on one knee beside it.
" His blood on his own head," said Sir Mulberry. " He
brought this upon himself, and forced it upon me."
"Captain Adams," cried Westwood, hastily, "I call you
to witness that this was fairly done. Hawk, we have not a
moment to lose. We must leave this place immediately, push
for Brighton, and cross to France with all speed. This has
been a bad business, and may be worse, if we delay a moment.
Adams, consult your own safety, and don't remain here ; the
living before the dead ; good-by ! "
With these words, he seized Sir Mulberr}' by the arm, and
hurried him away. Captain Adams — only pausing to convince
himself, beyond all question, of the fatal result — sped off in
the same direction, to concert measures with his servant for
removing the body, and securing his own safety likewise.
■""-*■! So died Lord Frederick Verisopht, by the hand which he
had loaded with gifts, and clasped a thousand times ; by the
act of him, but for whom, and others like him, he might have
lived a happy man, and died with children's faces round his
bee";
he sun came proudly up in all his majesty, the noble
river ran its winding course, the leaves quivered and rustled
in the air, the birds poured their cheerful songs from every
tree, the short-li\ed butterfly fluttered its little wings ; all the
light and life of day came on ; and amidst it all, and pressing
down the grass whose every blade bore twenty tiny lives, lay
the dead man, with his stark and rigid face turned upward to
the sky.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 66 j
CHAPTER LI.
THE PROJECT OF MR. RALPH NICKLEBY AND HIS FRIEND,
APPROACHING A SUCCESSFUL ISSUE, BECOMES UNEXPECT-
EDLY KNOWN TO ANOTHER PARTY NOT ADMITTED INTO
THEIR CONFIDENCE.
In an old house, dismal, dark and dusty, which seemed to
have withered, like himself, and to have grown yellow and
shrivelled in hoarding him from the light of day, as he had,
in hoarding his money, lived Arthur Gride. Meagre old chairs
and tables, of spare and bony make, and hard and cold as
misers' hearts, were ranged in grim array against the gloomy
walls ; attenuated presses, grown lank and lantern-jawed in
guarding the treasures they inclosed, and tottering, as though
from constant fear and dread of thieves, shrunk up in dark
corners, whence they cast no shadows on the ground, and
seemed to hide and cower from observation. A tall grim
clock upon the stairs, with long lean hands and famished face
ticked in cautious whispers ; and when it struck the time, in
thin and piping sounds like an old man's voice, it rattled, as if
it were pinched with hunger.
No fireside couch was there, to invite repose and comfort.
Elbow-chairs there were, but they looked uneasy in their minds,
cocked their arms suspiciously and timidly, and kept on their
guard. Others were fantastically grim and gaunt, as having
drawn themselves up to their utmost height, and put on their
fiercest looks to stare all comers out of countenance. Others,
again, knocked up against their neighbors, or leaned for sup-
port against the wall— somewhat ostentatiously, as if to call
all men to witness that they were not worth the taking. The
dark square lumbering bedsteads seemed built for restless
dreams. The musty hangings seemed to creep in scanty folds
together, whispering among themselves, when rustled by the
wind, their trembling knowledge of the tempting wares that
lurked within the dark and tight-locked closets.
From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare
and hungry house there came, one morning, the tremulous
662 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
tones of old Gride's voice, as it feebly chirruped forth the fag-
end of some forgotten song, of which the burden ran :
Ta- ran — tan — too,
Throw the old shoe,
And may the wedding be lucky!
which he repeated, in the same shrill quavering notes, again
and again, until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist,
and pursue in silence the occupation upon which he was en-
gaged.
This occupation was, to take down from the shelves of a
worm-eaten wardrobe, a quantity of frowsy garments, one by
one ; to subject each to a careful and minute inspection by
holding it up against the light, and, after folding it with great
exactness, to lay it on one or other of two little heaps beside
him. He never took two articles of clothing out together, but
always brought them forth, singly, and never failed to shut
the wardrobe door, and turn the key, between each visit to its
shelves.
'•The snuff-colored suit," said Arthur Gride, surveying a
threadbare coat, " Did I look well in snuff-color ? Let me
think."
The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavorable,
for he folded the garment once more, laid it aside, and
mounted on a chair to get down another ; chirping while he
did so :
Young, loving, and fair.
Oh what happiness there !
The wedding is sure to be lucky !
"They always put in 'young,' " said old Arthur, "but
songs are only written for the sake of rhyme, and this is a
silly one that the poor country people sang, when I was a lit-
tle boy. Though stop— young is quite right too — it means
the bride — yes. He, he, he ! It means the bride. Oh dear,
that's good. That's very good. And true besides, quite
true ! "
In the satisfaction of this discovery, he went over the verse
again, with increased expression, and a shake or two here and
there. He then resumed his employment.
" The bottle-green," said old Arthur ; " the bottle-green was
a famous suit to wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawn-
broker's and there was — he, he, he ! — a tarnished shilling in the
waistcoat pocket. To think that the pawnbroker shouldn't
have known there was a shilling in it ' / knew it ! I felt it
'ts
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 663
9,
when I was examining the quaUty. Oh, what a dull dog of a
pawnbroker ! It was a lucky suit too, this bottle-green. The
very day I put it on first, old Lord Mallowford was burnt to
death in his bed, and all the post-obits fell in. I'll be mar-
ried in the bottle-green, Peg. Peg Sliderskew — I'll wear the
bottle-green ! "
This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room door,
brought into the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed
old woman, palsy-stricken and hideously ugly, who, wiping her
shrivelled face upon her dirty apron, inquired, in that subdued
tone in which deaf people commonly speak •
" Was that you a calling, or only the clock a striking ? My
hearing gets so bad, I never know which is which ; but when
I hear a noise, I know it must be one of you, because nothing
else never stirs in the house."
"Me, Peg, me," said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on
the breast to render the reply more intelligible.
" You, eh ? " returned Peg. " And what do you want ? "
"I'll be married in the bottle-green," cried Arthur Gride.
"It's a deal too good to be married in, master,' rejoined
Peg, after a short inspection of the suit. " Haven't you got
anything worse than this ? "
" Nothing that'll do, ' replied old Arthur.
" Why not do ? " retorted Peg. " Why don't you wear
your every-day clothes like a man, — eh ? "
" They an't becoming enough. Peg," returned her master.
" Not what enough .? " said Peg,
" Becoming."
" Becoming what ? " said Peg sharply. " Not becoming
too old to wear? "
Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his house-
keeper's deafness, as he roared in her ear :
" Not smart enough ! I want to look as well as I can."
" Look ! " cried Peg. " If she's as handsome as you sayV
she is, she won't look much at you, master, take your oath of /
that ; and as to how you look yourself — pepper-and salt, bot-
tle-green, sky-blue, or tartan-plaid will make no difference in
you." • -^
With which consolatory assurance. Peg Sliderskew gath-
ered up the chosen suit, and folding her skinny arms upon the
bundle, stood, mouthing, and grinning, and blinking her wa-
tery eyes, like an uncouth figure in some monstrous piece of
carving.
664 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
.%
" You're in a funny humor, an't you, Peg ? " said Arthur,
with not the best possible grace.
"Why, isn't it enough to make me?" rejoined the old
woman. " I shall soon enough be put out, though, if anybody
tries to domineer it over me ; and so I give you notice mas-
ter. Nobody shall be put over Peg Shderskew's head, after
so many years • you know that, and so I needn't tell you !
That won't do for me — no, no, nor for you. Try that once,
and come to rum — ruin — ruin ! "
" Oh dear, dear. I shall never try it," said Arthur Gride,
appalled by the mention of the word, " not for the world. It
would be very easy to ruin me ; we must be very careful ; more
saving than ever, with another mouth to feed. Only we — we
mustn't let her lose her good looks, Peg, because I like to see
'em"
' Take care you don't find good looks come expensive,"
returned Peg, shaking her fore- finger.
■' But she can earn money herself, Peg," said Arthur
Gride, eagerly watching what effect his communication pro-
duced upon the old woman's countenance . ' she can draw,
paint, work all manner of pretty things for ornamenting stools
and chairs : slippers. Peg, watch-guards, hair-chains, and a
thousand little dainty trifles that I couldn't give you half the
names of. Then she can play the piano (and, what's .more,
she's got one), and sings like a little bird. She'll be very cheap
to dress and keep, Peg ; don't you thmk she will ? "
" If you don't let her make a fool of you, she may," re-
turned Peg.
" A fool of 7ne!'' exclaimed Arthur. " Trust your old mas-
ter not to be fooled by pretty faces. Peg ; no, no, no— -nor by
ugly ones neither, Mrs. Sliderskew," he softly added By way
of soliloquy.
" You're a saying something you don't want me to hear,"
said Peg ; " I know you are."
" Oh dear ! the devil's in this woman," muttered Arthur ;
adding with an ugly leer, " I said 1 trusted everything to you
Peg. That was all."
" You do that, master, and all your cares are over," said
Peg approvingly.
" When Tdothat, Peg Sliderskew," thought Arthur Gride,
" they will be."
Although he thought this, very distinctly, he durst not
move his lips lest the old woman should detect him. He even
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 66$
seemed half afraid that she might have read his thoughts ; for
he leered coaxingly upon her, as he said aloud :
" Take up all loose stitches in the bottle-green with the
best black silk. Have a skein of the best, and some new but-
tons for the coat, and— this is a good idea. Peg, and one you'll
like, I know — as I have never given her anything yet, and girls
like such attentions, you shall polish up a sparkling necklace
that I have got up stairs, and I'll give it her upon the wedding
morning — clasp it round her charming little neck myself — and
take it away again next day. He, he, he ! I'll lock it up for
her. Peg, and lose it. Who'll be made the fool of there, I
wonder, to begin with : eh, Peg ? " '
" Mrs. Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this inge-
nious scheme, and expressed her satisfaction by various rack-
ings and twitchings of her head and body, which by no means
enhanced her charms. These she prolonged until she had
hobbled to the door, when she exchanged them for a sour
malignant look, and twisting her under-jaw from side to side,
muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs. Gride, as she
crept slowly down the stairs, and paused for breath at nearly
every one.
" She's half a witch, I think," said Arthur Gride, when he
found himself again alone. " But she's very frugal, and she's
very deaf. Her living costs me next to nothing ; and it's no
use her listening at keyholes ; for she can't hear. She's a
charming woman — for the purpose ; a most discreet old house-
keeper, and worth her weight in — copper."
Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high
terms, old Arthur went back to the burden of his song. The
suit destined to grace his approaching nuptials being now se-
lected, he replaced the others with no less care than he had
displayed . in drawing them from the musty nooks where they
had silently reposed for many years.
Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this
operation, and locked the press ; but there was no need for
any particular hurr)% as the discreet Peg seldom knew the bell
was rung unless she happened to cast her dim eyes upward,
and to see it shaking against the kitchen ceiling. After a short
delay, however. Peg tottered in, followed by Newman Noggs.
" Ah ! Mr. Noggs ! " cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his
hands. " My good friend, Mr. Noggs, what news do you
bring for me ? "
Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, and his
566 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
fixed eye very fixed indeed, replied, suiting the action to the
word, " A letter. From Mr. Nickleby. Bearer waits."
" Won't you take a — a — "
Newman looked up, and smacked his lips.
"—A chair?"
" No," replied Newman. " Thank'ee."
Arthur opened the letter, with trembling hands, and de-
voured its contents with the utmost greediness, chuckling rap-
turously over it, and reading it several times, before he could
take it from before his eyes. So many times did he peruse and
re-peruse it, that Newman considered it expedient to remind
him of his presence.
" Answer," said Newman. " Bearer waits.
" True," replied old Arthur. " Yes — yes — ; I almost for-
got, I do declare."
" I thought you were forgetting," said Newman.
" Quite right to remind me, Mr. Noggs. Oh, very right
indeed," said Arthur. "Yes. I'll write a line. I'm— I'm—
rather flurried, Mr. Noggs. The news is — "
" Bad ? " interrupted Newman.
" No, Mr. Noggs, thank you ; good, good. The very best
of news. Sit down. I'll get the pen and ink, and write a line
in answer. I'll not detain you long. I know you're a treasure
to your master, Mr. Noggs. He speaks of you in such terms,
sometimes, that oh dear ! you'd be astonished. I may say
that I do too, and always did. I always say the same of you."
" That's ' Curse Mr. Noggs with all my heart ! ' then, if you
do," thought Newman, as Gride hurried out.
The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully
about him, for an instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to
know the result of the design he had overheard from his office
closet, caught it up and rapidly read as follows :
" Gride.
" I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the
day after to-morrow (as you suggested) for the marriage.
There is no objection on his part, and all days are alike to his
daughter. We will go together, and you must be with me by
seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punctual.
" Make no further visits to the 'girl, in the meantime.
You have been there, of late, much oftener than you should.
She does not languish for you, and it might have been danger-
ous. Restrain your youthful ardor for eight-and-forty hours,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 667
and leave her to the father. You only undo what he does,
and does well.
" Yours,
" Ralph Nickleby."
A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the letter
on the same spot again, pressed it with his foot to prevent its
fluttering away, regained his seat in a single stride, and looked
as vacant and unconscious as ever mortal looked. Arthur
Gride, after peering nervously about him, spied it on the
ground, picked it up, and sitting down to write, glanced at
Newman Noggs, who was staring at the wall with an intensity
so remarkable, that Arthur was quite alarmed.
" Do you see anything particular, Mr. Noggs ? " said
Arthur, trying to follow the direction of Newman's eyes —
which was an impossibility, and a thing no man had ever done.
" Only a cobweb," replied Newman.
" Oh, is that all ? "
" No," said Newman. "There's a fly in it."
" There are a good many cobwebs here," observed Arthur
Gride.
" So there are in our place," returned Newman ; " and
flies too."
Newman appeared to derive great entertainment from
this repartee, and to the great discomposure of Arthur Gride's
nerves, produced a series of sharp cracks from his finger-joints,
resembling the noise of a distant discharge of small artillery.
Arthur succeeded in finishing his reply to Ralph's note, never-
theless, and at length handed it over to the eccentric mes-
senger for deli\'ery.
" That's it, Mr. Noggs," said Gride.
Newman gave a nod, put it in his hat, and was shuffling
away, when Gride, whose doting delight knew no bounds,
beckoned him back again, and said, in a shrill whisper, and
with a grin which puckered up his whole face, and almost
obscured his eyes :
" Will you — will you take a little drop of something — just
a taste ? "
In good fellowship (if Arthur Gride had been capable of
it) Newman would not have drunk with him one bubble of the
richest wine that was ever made ; but to see what he would
be at, and to punish him as much as he could, he accepted
the offer immediately.
668 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Arthur Gride, therefore, again appUed himself to the press,
and from a shelf laden with tall Flemish drinking-glasses, and
quaint bottles, some with necks like so many storks, and
others with square Dutch-built bodies and short fat apoplectic
throats, took down one dusty bottle of promising appearance
and two glasses of curiously small size.
" You never tasted this," said Arthur. " It's eau-cTor —
golden water. I like it on account of its name, It's a deli-
cious name. Water of gold, golden water ! O dear me, it
seems quite a sin to drink it 1 "
As his courage appeared to be fast failing him, and he
trifled with the stopper in a manner which threatened the dis-
missal of the bottle to its old place, Newman took up one of
the little glasses, and clinked it, twice or thrice, against the bot-
tle, as a gentle reminder that he had not been helped yet.
With a deep sigh, Arthur Gride slowly filled it — though not to
the brim — and then filled his own.
" Stop, stop ; don't drink it yet," he said laying his hand
on Newman's ; " it was given to me, twenty years ago, and
when I take a little taste, which is ve — ry seldom, I like to
think of it beforehand, and teaze myself. We'll drink a toast.
Shall we drink a toast, Mr. Noggs ? "
" Ah ! " said Newman, eyeing his little glass impatiently.
" Look sharp. Bearer waits."
" Why, then, I'll tell you what," tittered Arthur, "We'll
drink — he, he, he ! — we'll drink a lady."
" The ladies? " said Newman.
' No, no, Mr. Noggs," replied Gride, arresting his hand,
" a lady. You wonder to hear me say a lady. I know you
do, I know you do. Here's little Madeline. That's the toast,
Mr. Noggs. Little Madeline ! "
" Madeline," said Newman; inwardly adding, "and God
help her ! "
The rapidity and unconcern with which Newman dismissed
his portion of the golder water, had a great effect upon the
old man, who sat upright in his chair, and gazed at him, open-
mouthed, as if the sight had taken away his breath. Quite
unmoved, however, Newman left him to sip his own, at leisure,
or to pour if back again into the bottle, if he chose, and
dcpirted ; after greatly outraging the dignity of Peg Slider-
skew by brushing past her, in the passage, without a word of
apology or recognition.
Mr. Gride and his housekeeper, immediately on being left
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 669
alone, resolved themselves into a committee of ways and
means, and discussed the arrangements which should be
made for the reception of the young bride. As they were, like
some other committees, extremely dull and prolix in debate,
this history may pursue the footsteps of Newman Noggs :
thereby combining advantage with necessity ; for it would
have been necessary to do so under any circumstances, and
necessity has no law, as all the world know.
" You've been a long time," said Ralph when Newman
returned.
" He was a long time," replied Newman.
" Bah ! " cried Ralph, impatiently. " Give me his note,
if he gave you one : his message, if he didn't. And don't go
away. I want a word with you, sir."
Newman handed in the note, and looked very virtuous and
innocent while his employer broke the seal, and glanced his
eye over it.
" He'll be sure to come ! " muttered Ralph, as he tore it
to pieces ; " why of course, I know he'll be sure to come.
What need to say that ? Noggs ! Pray sir, what man was
that, with whom I saw you in the street last night ? "
" I don't know," replied Newman.
" You had better refresh your memory, sir," said Ralph,
with a threatening look.
" I tell you," returned Newman boldly, " that I don't
know. He came here, twice, and asked for you. You were
out. He came again. You packed him off, yourself. He
gave the name of Brooker."
" I know he did," said Ralph ; " what then ? "
" What then ? Why, then he lurked about and dogged
me in the street. He follows me, night after night, and urges
me to bring him face to face with you ; as he says he has been
once, and not long ago either. He wants to see you face to
face, he says, and you'll soon hear him out, he warrants."
" And what say you to that.-*" inquired Ralph, looking
keenly at his drudge.
" That it's no business of mine, and I won't. I told him
he might catch you in the street, if that was all he wanted,
but no ! that wouldn't do. You wouldn't hear a word there,
he said. He must have you, alone in a room with the door
locked, where he could speak without fear, and you'd soon
change your tone, and hear him patiently."
" An audacious dog ! " Ralph muttered.
670
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" That's all I know," said Newman. " I say again, I don't
know what man he is. I don't believe he knows himself.
You have seen him perhaps ; you do."
" I think I do," replied Ralph.
" Well," retorted Newman, sulkily, " don't expect me to
know him too ; that's all. You'll ask me, next, why I never
told you this, before. What would you say, if I was to tell
you all that people say of you ? What do you call me when 1
sometimes do ? ' Brute, ass ! ' and snap at me like a dragon."
This was true enough ; though the question which New-
man anticipated, was, in fact, upon Ralph's lips at the moment.
" He is an idle ruffian," said Ralph ; " a vagabond from
beyond the sea where he travelled for his crimes ; a felon let
loose to run his neck into the halter; a swindler, who has the
audacity to try his schemes on me who know him well. The
next time he tampers with you, hand him over to the police,
for attempting to extort money by lies and threats, — d'ye
hear t — and leave the rest to me. He shall cool his heels in
jail, a little time, and I'll be bound he looks for other folks to
fleece, when he comes out. You mind what I say, do you ? "
" I hear," said Newman.
" Do it then," returned Ralph, " and I'll reward you.
Now, you may go."
Newman readily availed himself of the permission, and
shutting himself up in his little office, remained there, in very
serious cogitation, all day. When he was released at night,
he proceeded, with all the expedition he could use, to the
City, and took up his old position behind the pump, to watch
for Nicholas. For Newman Noggs was proud in his way,
and could not bear to appear as his friend, before the broth-
ers Cheeryble, in the shabby and degraded state to which he
was reduced.
He had not occupied this position many minutes, when he
was rejoiced to see Nicholas approaching, and darted out
from his ambuscade to meet him. Nicholas, on his part, was
no less pleased to encounter his friend, whom he had not
seen for some time ; so, their greeting was a warm one.
" I was thinking of you, at that moment," said Nicholas.
" That's right," rejoined Newman, " and I of you. I
couldn't help coming up, to-night. I say ! I think I'm going
to find out something."
" And what may'that be ? " returned Nicholas, smiling at
this odd communication.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 671
*' I don't know what it may be, I don't know what it may
not be," said Newman ; " it's some secret in which your uncle
is concerned, but what, I've not yet been able to discover,
although I have my strong suspicions. I'll not hint 'em now,
in case you should be disappointed."
"/disappointed!" cried Nicholas; "am I interested?"
" I think you are," replied Newman. " I have a crotchet
in my head that it must be so. I have found out a man, who
plainly knows more than he cares to tell at once. And he
has already dropped such hints to me as puzzle me — I say, as
puzzle me," said Newman, scratching his red nose into a state
of violent inflammation, and staring at Nicholas with all his
might and main meanwhile.
Admiring what could have wound his friend up to such a
pitch of mystery, Nicholas endeavored, by a series of ques-
tions, to elucidate the cause ; but in vain. Newman could
not be drawn into any more explicit statement, than a repe-
tition of the perplexities he had already thrown out, and a
confused oration, showing, How it was necessary to use the
utmost caution ; how the lynx-eyed Ralph had already seen
him in company with his unknown correspondent ; and how
he had baffled the said Ralph by extreme guardedness of
manner and ingenuity of speech ; having prepared himself
for such a contingency from the first.
Remembering his companion's propensity, — of which his
nose, indeed, perpetually warned all beholders like a beacon,
— Nicholas had drawn him into a sequestered tavern. Here,
they fell to reviewing the origin and progress of their ac-
quaintance, as men sometimes do, and tracing out the little
events by which it was most strongly marked, came at last to
Miss Cecilia Bobster.
" And that reminds me," said Newman, " that you never
told me the young lady's real name."
" Madeline ! " said Nicholas.
" Madeline ! " cried Newman. " "V\'hat Madeline .? Her
other name. Say her other name."
" Bray," said Nicholas, in great astonishment.
" It's the same ! " cried Newman. " Sad sXovj ! Can you
stand idly by, and let that unnatural marriage take place
without one attempt to save her ? "
" What do you mean .? " exclaimed Nicholas, starting up ;
" marriage ! Are you mad ? "
" Are you ? Is she ? Are you blind, deaf, senseless,
672
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
dead?" said Newman. " Do you know that within one day,
by means of your uncle Ralph, she will be married to a man
as bad as he, and worse, if worse there is ? Do you know
that, within one day, she will be sacrificed, as sure as you
stand there alive, to a hoary wretch — a devil born and bred,
and gray in devils' ways ? "
"Be careful what you say," replied- Nicholas. "For
Heaven's sake be careful ! I am left here alone, and those
who could stretch out a hand to rescue her, are far away.
What is it that you mean ? "
"I never heard her name," said Newman, choking with
his energy. " Why didn't you tell me ? How was I to know ?
We might, at least, have had some time to think ! "
" What is it that you mean ? '' cried Nicholas.
It was not an easy task to arrive at this information ; but,
after a great quantity of extraordinary pantomime, which in
no way assisted it, Nicholas, who was almost as wild as New-
man Noggs himself, forced the latter down upon his seat and
held him down until he began his tale.
Rage, astonishment, indignation, and a storm of passions,
rushed through the listener's heart, as the plot was laid bare.
He no sooner understood it all, than with a face of ashy pale-
ness, and trembling in every limb, he darted from the house.
" Stop him ! " cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit.
" He'll be doing something desperate ; he'll murder some-
body. Hallo ! there, stop him. Stop thief ! stop tliief ! "
CHAPTER LH.
NICHOLAS DESPAIRS OF RESCUING MADELINE BRAY, BUT
PLUCKS UP HIS SPIRITS AGAIN, AND DETERMINES TO AT-
TEMPT IT. DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE OF THE KENWIGSES
AND LILLYVICKS.
Finding that Newman was determined to arrest his pro-
gress at any hazard, and apprehensive that some well-inten-
tioned passenger attracted by the cry of " stop thief," might
lay violent hands upon his person, and place him in a dis-
agreeable predicament from which he might have some diffi-
NICHOLAS NJCKLEBY.
673
culty in extricating himself, Nicholas soon slackened his pace,
and suffered Newman Noggs to come up with him ; which he
did, in so breathless a condition, that it seemed impossible he
could have held out for a minute longer.
"I will go straight to Bray's," said Nicholas. " I will see
this man. If there is a feeling of humanity lingering in his
breast, a spark of consideration for his own child, motherless
and friendless as she is, I will awaken it."
"You will not," replied Newman. "You will not, in-
deed."
" Then," said Nicholas, pressing onward, " I will act upon
my first impulse, and go straight to Ralph Nickleby."
" By the time you reach his house he will be in bed," said
Newman.
" I'll drag him from it," cried Nicholas.
" Tut, tut," said Noggs. " Be yourself."
"You are the best of friends to me, Newman," rejoined
Nicholas after a pause, and taking his hand as he spoke. " I
have made head against many trials ; but the misery of an-
other, and such misery, is involved in this one, that I declare
to you I am rendered desperate, and know not how to act."
In truth, it did seem a hopeless case. It was impossible
to make any use of such intelligence as Newman Noggs had
gleaned, when he lay concealed in the closet. The mere cir-
cumstance of the compact between Ralph Nickleby and Gride
would not invalidate the marriage, or fender Bray averse to
it, who, if he did not actually know of the existence of some
such understanding, doubtless suspected it. What had been
hinted with reference to some fraud on Madeline, had been
put with sulificient obscurity by Arthur Gride, but coming
from Newman Noggs, and obscured still further by the smoke
of his pocket pistol, it became wholly unintelligible, and in-
volved in utter darkness.
" There seems no ray of hope," said Nicholas.
" The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, for con-
sideration, for thought," said Newman, pausing at every alter-
nate word, to look anxiously in his friend's face. " Where
are the brothers .-' "
" Both absent on urgent business, as they will be for a
week to come."
" Is there no way of communicating with them ? No way
of getting one of them here, by to-morrow night ? "
" Impossible ! " said Nicholas, " the sea is between us and
43
674 NIC HO L A S NICKL EB Y.
them. With the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and re-
turn would take three days and nights."
" Their nephew," said Newman, " their old clerk."
" What could either do, that I cannot .' " rejoined Nich-
olas. " With reference to them especially, I am enjoined to
the strictest silence on this subject. What right have I to
betray the confidence reposed in me, when nothing but a
miracle can prevent this sacrifice .? "
" Think," urged Newman. "Is there no way ? "
"There is none," said Nicholas, in utter dejection. "Not
one. The father urges, the daughter consents. These de-
mons have her in their toils ; legal right, might, power, money,
and every influence are on their side. How can I hope to
save her? "
" Hope to the last ! " said Newman, clapping him on the
back. " Always hope ; that's a dear boy. Never leave off
hoping ; it don't answer. Do you mind me, Nick ? It don't
answer. Don't leave a stone unturned. It's always some-
thing, to know you've done the most you could. But, don't
leave off hoping, or it's of no use doing anything. Hope,
hope, to the last ! "
Nicholas needed encouragement. The suddenness with
which intelligence of the two usurers' plans had come upon
him, the little time which remained for exertion, the proba-
bility, almost amounting to certainty itself, that a few hours
would place Madeline Bray for ever beyond his reach, con-
sign her to unspeakable misery, and perhaps to an untimely
death : all this quite stunned and overwhelmed him. Every
hope connected with her that he had suffered himself to form,
or had entertained unconsciously, seemed to fall at his feet,
withered and dead. Every charm with which his memory or
imagination had surrounded her, presented itself before him,
only to heighten his anguish and add new bitterness to his
despair. Every feeling of sympathy for her forlorn condition,
and of admiration of her heroism and fortitude, aggravated
the indignation which shook him in every limb, and swelled
his heart almost to bursting.
But, if Nicholas's own heart embarrassed him, Newman's
came to his relief. There was so much earnestness in his re-
monstrance, and such sincerity and fervor in his manner, odd
and ludicrous as it always was, that it imparted to Nicholas
new firmness, and enabled him to say, after he had walked on
for some little way in silence :
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V 675
You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit
by it. One step, at least, I may take — am bound to take in-
deed—and to that I will apply myself to-morrow."
" What is that ? " asked Noggs wistfully. " Not to threaten
Ralph ? Not to see the father ?
" To see the daughter, Newman," replied Nicholas. " To
do what, after all, is the utmost that the brothers could do,
if they were here, as Heaven send they were ! To reason
with her upon this hideous union, to point out to her all the
horrors to which she is hastening ; rashly, it may be, and
without due reflection. To entreat her, at least, to pause.
She can have had no counsellor for her good. Perhaps even
I may move her so far yet, though it is the eleventh hour,
and she upon the very brink of ruin."
" Bravely spoken ! " said Newman. " Well done, well
done ! Yes. Very good."
" And I do declare," cried Nicholas, with honest enthusi-
asm, " that in this effort I am influenced by no selfish or per-
sonal considerations,. but by pity for her, and detestation and
abliorn^uce of this scheme ; and that I would do the same,
were there twenty rivals in the field, and I the la.,st, and least
faxored of them all."
" Vou would, I believe," said Newman. " But where are
you hurrying now ? "
" Homewards," answered Nicholas. " Do you come with
me, or shall I say good-night ? "
" I'll come a little way, if you will but walk, not run,"
said Noggs.
" I cannot walk to-night, Newman," returned Nicholas,
hurriedly. " I must move rapidly, or I could not draw my
breath. I'll tell you what I've said and done, to-morrow ! "
Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace,
and, plunging intothe crowds which thronged the street, was
quickly lost to view.
" He's a violent youth at times," said Newman, looking
after him ; " and yet I like him for it. There's cause enough
now, or the deuce is in it. Hope ! I sa/d hope, I tliink !
Ralph Nickleby and Gride with their heads together ! And
hope for the opposite party ! Ho ! ho 1 "
It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggs
concluded this soliloquy ; and it was with a very melancholy
shake of the head, and a very rueful countenance, that he
turned about, and went plodding on his way.
676
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
This, under ordinary circumstances, would have been to
some small tavern or dram-shop ; that being his way, in more
senses than one. But Newman was too much interested, and
too anxious, to betake himself even to this resource, and so,
with many desponding and dismal reflections, went straight
home.
It had come to pass, that afternoon, that Miss Morleena
Kenwigs had received an invitation to repair next day, per
steamer from Westminster Bridge, unto the Eel-pie Island at
Twickenham : there to make merry upon a cold collation,
bottled-beer, shrub, and shrimps, and to dance in the open
air to the music of a locomotive band, conveyed thither for
the purpose : the steamer being specially engaged by a dan-
cing-master of extensive connection for the accommodation
of his numerous pupils, and the pupils displaying their appre-
ciation of the dancing-master's services, by purchasing them-
selves, and inducing their friends to do the like, divers light-
blue tickets, entitling them to join the expedition. Of these
light-blue tickets, one had been presented by an ambitious
neighbor to Miss Morleena Kenwigs, with an invitation to
join her daughters ; and Mrs. Kenwigs, rightly deeming that
the honor of the family was involved in Miss Morleena's
making the most splendid appearance possible on so short a
notice, and testifying to the dancing-master that there were
other dancing-masters besides him, and to all fathers and
mothers present that other people's children could learn to be
genteel besides theirs, had fainted away, twice, under the
magnitude of her preparations, but, upheld by a determina-
tion to sustain the family name or perish in the attempt, was
still hard at work when Newman Noggs came home.
Now, between the Italian-ironing of frills, the flouncing of
trousers, the trimming of frocks, the faintings and the com-
ings to again, incidental to the occasion, Mrs. Kenwigs had
been so entirely occupied, that she had not observed, until
within half an hour before, that the flaxen tails of Miss Mor-
leena's hair were, in a manner, run to seed ; and that, unless
she were put under the hands of a skilful hair-dresser, she
never could achieve that signal triumph over the daughters of
all other people, anything less than which would be tanta-
mount to defeat, 'i'lus discovery drove Mrs. Kenwigs to de-
spair; for the hair-dresser lived three streets and eight danger-
ous crossings olT ; Morleena could not be trusted to go there
alone, even if such a proceeding were strictly proper : of which
NICHOLAS NICk'LEB V. C-jj
Mrs. Kenwigs had her doubts ; Mr. Kenwigs, had not re-
turned from business ; and there was nobody to take her. So
Mrs. Kenwigs first slapped Miss Kenwigs for being the cause
of her vexation, and then shed tears.
'* You ungrateful child ! " said Mrs. Kenwigs. " After I
have gone through what 1 have this night, for 3'our good.''
" I can't help it, ma," replied Morleena, also in tears ;
" my hair 7c>/7/ grow."
" Don't talk to me, you naughty thing !" said Mrs. Ken-
wigs, " don't. Even if I was to trust you by yourself and you
were to escape being run over, I know you'd run in to Laura
Chopkins," who was the daughter of the ambitious neighbor,
" and tell her what you're going to wear to-morrow, I know
you would. You've no proper pride in yourself, and are not
to be trusted out of sight, for an instant."
Deploring the evil-mindedness of her eldest daughter, in
these terms, Mrs. Kenwigs distilled fresh drops of vexation
from her eyes, and declared that she did believe there never
was anybody so tried as she was. Thereupon, Morleena Ken-
wigs wept afresh, and they bemoaned themselves together.
Matters were at this point, as Newman Noggs was heard
to limp past the door on his way up stairs ; when Mrs. Ken-
wigs, gaining new hope from the sound of his footsteps, has-
tily removed from her countenance as many traces of her late
emotion as were effaceable on so short a notice, and present-
ing herself before him, and representing their dilemma, en-
treated that he would escort Morleena to the hair-dresser's
shop.
" I wouldn't ask )'0u, Mr. Noggs," said Mrs. Kenwigs, " if
I didn't know what a good, kind-hearted creature you are ;
no, not for worlds. I am a weak constitution, Mr. Noggs, but
my spirit would no more let me ask a favor where I thought
there was a chance of its being refused, than it would let me
submit to see my children trampled down and trod upon, by
envy and lowness ! "
Newman was too good-natured not to have consented,
even without this avowal of confidence on the part of Mrs.
Kenwigs. Accordingly, a very few minutes had elapsed, when
he and Miss Morleena were on their way to the hair-dresser's.
" It was not exactly a hair-dresser's ; that is to say. people
of a coarse and vulgar turn of mind might ha\e called it a
barber's ; for they not only cut and curled ladies elegantly,
and children carefully, but shaved gentlemen easily. Still, it
678
NICHOLAS NICA'LEB Y.
was a highly genteel establishment — quite first-rate in fact —
and there were displayed in the window, besides other elegan-
cies, waxen busts o£ a light lady and a dark gentleman which
were the admiration of the whole neighborhood. Indeed,
some ladies had gone so far as to assert, that the dark gentle-
man was actually a portrait of the spirited young proprietor ;
and the great similarity between their head-dresses — both wore
very glossy hair, with a narrow walk straight down the middle,
and a profusion of flat circular curls on both sides — encour-
aged the idea. The better informed among the sex, how-
ever, made light of this assertion, for however willing they
were (and they were very willing) to do full justice to the
handsome face and figure of the proprietor, they held the
countenance of the dark gentleman in the window to be an
exquisite and abstract idea of masculine beauty, realized some-
times, perhaps, among angels and military men, but very rarely
embodied to gladden the eyes of mortals.
It was to this establishment that Newman Noggs led Miss
Kenwigs in safety. The proprietor, knowing that Miss Ken-
wigs had three sisters, each with two flaxen tails, and all good
for sixpence a-piece, once a month at least, promptly deserted
an old gentleman whom he had just lathered for shaving, and
handing him o\er to the journeyman (who was not very pop-
ular among the ladies, by reason of his obesity and middle
age) waited on the young lady himself.
Just as this change had been effected, there presented
himself for shaving, a big, burly, good-humored coal-heaver
with a pipe in his mouth, who, drawing his hand across his
chin, requested to know when a shaver would be disengaged.
The journeyman to whom this question was put, looked
doubtfully at the young proprietor, and the young proprietor
looked scornfully at the coal-heaver : observing, at the same
time :
" You won't get shaved here, my man."
' Why not ? " said the coal-heaver.
" Wedon't shave gentlemen in your line," remarked the
young proprietor.
" Why, I see you a shaving of a baker, when I was a-look-
ing through the winder, last week," said the coal-heaver.
" It's necessary to draw the line somewheres, my fine feller,"
replied the principal. " We draw the line there. We can't
go beyond bakers. If we was to get any lower than bakers,
our customers would desert us, and we might shut up shop.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 679
You must try some other establishment, sir. We couldn't do
it here."
The applicant stared ; grinned at Newman Noggs, who
appeared highly entertained ; looked slightly round the shop,
as if in depreciation of the pomatum pots and other articles of
stock ; took his pipe out of his mouth and gave a very loud
whistle ; and then put it in again, and walked out.
The old gentleman who had just been lathered, and who
was sitting in a melancholv manner with his face turned to-
wards the wall, appeared quite unconscious of this incident,
and to be insensible to everything around him in the depth of
a reverie — a very mournful one, to judge from the sighs he
occasionally vented — in which he was absorbed. Affected by
this example, the proprietor began to clip Miss Kenwigs, the
journeyman to scrape the old gentleman, and Newman Noggs
to read last Sunday's paper, all three in silence : when Miss
Kenwigs uttered a shrill little scream, and Newman, raising
his eyes, saw that it had been elicited by the circumstance of
the old gentleman turning his head, and disclosing the fea-
tures of Mr. Lilly vick the collector.
The features of Mr. Lillyvick they were, but strangely al-
tered. If ever an old gentleman had made a point of appear-
ing in public, shaved close and clean, that old gentleman was
Mr. Lillyvick. If ever a collector had borne himself like a
collector, and assumed before all men a solemn and porten-
tous dignity as if he had the world on his books and it was
all two quarters in arrear, that collector was Mr. Lillpdck.
And now, there he sat, with the remains of a beard at least a
week old, encumbering his chin ; a soiled and Crumpled shirt-
frill crouching, as it were, upon his breast, instead of standing
boldly out ; a demeanor so abashed and drooping, so despon-
dent, and expressive of humiliation, grief, and shame ; that if
the souls of forty unsubstan.tial housekeepers, all of whom had
their water cut off for non-payment of the rate, could have
been concentrated in one body, that one body could hardly
have expressed such mortification and defeat as were now ex-
pressed in the person of Mr. Lillyvick the collector.
Newman Noggs pronounced his name, and Mr. Lillyvick
groaned ; then coughed to hide it. But the groan was a full-
sized groan, and the cough was but a wheeze.
" Is anything the matter? '' said Newman Noggs.
" Matter, sir ! " cried Mr. Lillyvick. " The plug of life is
dry, sir, and but the mud is ieft."
68 o NIC HO L A S NICKL EB Y.
This speech — the style of which Newman attributed to
Mr. Lillyvick's recent association with theatrical characters —
not being quite explanatory, Newman looked as if he were
about to ask another question, when Mr. Lillyvick prevented
him by shaking his hand mournfully, and then waving his own.
" Let me be shaved ! " said Mr. Lillyvick. " It shall be
done before Morleena ; it is Morleena, isn't it ? "
" Yes," said Newman.
" Kenwigses have got a boy, haven't they.?" inquired the
collector.
Again Newman said " Yes."
" Is it a nice boy ? " demanded the collector.
" It ain't a very nasty one," returned Newman, rather em-
barrassed by the question.
" Susan Kenwigs used to say," observed the collector,
" that if ever she had another boy, she hoped it might be like
me. Is this one like me, Mr. ,Noggs t "
This was a puzzling inquiry ; iDut Newman evaded it, by
replying to Mr. Lillyvick, that he thought the baby might pos-
sibly come like him in time.
" I should be glad to have somebody like me, somehow,"
said Mr. Lillyvick, "before I die."
" You don't mean to do that, yet awhile ? " said Newman.
Unto which Mr. Lillyvick replied in a solemn voice, " Let
me be shaved ! " and again consigning himself to the hands
of the journeyman, said no more.
This was remarkable behavior. So remarkable did it
seem to Miss Morleena, that that young lady, at the imminent
hazard of having her ear sliced off, had not been able to for-
bear looking round, some score of times, during the foregoing
colloquy. Of her, however, Mr. Lillyvick took no notice ;
rather striving (so, at least, it seemed to Newman Noggs) to
evade her observation, and to shrink into himself whenever
he attracted her regards. Newman wondered very much
what could have occasioned this altered behavior on the part
of the collector ; but, philosophically reflecting that he would
most likely know, sooner or later, and that he could perfectly
afford to wait, he was very little disturbed by the singularity
of the old gentleman's deportment.
The cutting and curling being at last concluded, the old
gentleman, who had been some time waiting, rose to go, and
walking out with Newman and his charge, took Newman's
arm, and proceeded for some time without making any obser-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 68 1
vation. Newman, who in power of taciturnity was excelled
by few people, made no attempt to break silence ; and so they
went on, until they had very nearly reached Miss Morleena's
home, when Mr. Lillyvick said :
" Were the Kenwigses very much overpowered, Mr. Noggs,
by that news ? "
" What news ? " returned Newman.
" That about — my — being "
" Married ? " suggested Newman.
"Ah!" replied "Mr. Lillyvick, with another groan: this
time not even disguised by a wheeze.
" It made ma cry when she knew it," interposed Miss Mor-
leena, " but we kept it from her for a long time ; and pa was
very low in his spirits, but he is better now ; and I was very
ill, but I am better too."
" Would you give your great-uncle Lillyvick a kiss if he
was to ask you, Morleena ?"" said the collector, with some
hesitation.
"Yes ; uncle Lillyvick, I would," returned Miss Morleena,
with the energy of both. her parents combined; "but not
aunt Lillyvick. She's not an aunt of mine, and I'll never call
her one."
Immediately upon the utterance of these words, Mr. Lilly-
vick caught Miss Morleena up in his arms, and kissed her ;
and, being by this time at the door of the house where Mr.
Kenwigs lodged (which, as has been before mentioned, usually
stood wide open), he walked straight up into Mr. Kenwigs's
sitting-room, and put Miss Morleena down in the midst. Mr.
and Mrs. Kenwigs were at supper. At sight of their per-
jured relative, M^rs. Kenwigs turned faint and pale, and Mr.
Kenwigs rose majestically.
" Kenwigs," said the collector, "shake hands."
" Sir," said Mr. Kenwigs, " the time has been, when I was
proud to shake hands with such a man as that man as now
surways me. The time has been, sir," said Mr. Kenwigs,
"when a wisit from that man has excited in me and my fam-
ily's boozums sensations both nateral and awakening. But,
now, I look upon that man with emotions totally surpassing
everythink, and I ask myself where is his //onor, where is his
straight-for'ardness, and where is his human natur ? "
""^Susan Kenwigs," said Mr. Lillyvick, turning humbly to
his niece, " don't you say anything to me ? "
" She is not equal to it^ sir,'^ said Mr. Kenwigs, striking
682 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
the table emphatically. " What with the nursing or a healthy
babby, and the reflections upon your cruel conduct, four pints
of malt liquor a day is hardly able to sustain her."
" I am glad," said the poor collector meekly, " that the
baby is a healthy one. I am very glad of that."
This was touching the Kenwigses on their tenderest point.
Mrs. Kenwigs instantly burst into tears, and Mr. Kenwigs
evinced great emotion.
" My pleasantest feeling, all the time that child was ex-
pected," said Mr. Kenwigs, mournfully, " was a thinking, * if
it's a boy, as I hope it may be ; for I have heard its uncle
Lillyvick say again and again he would prefer our having a
boy next, if it's a boy, what will his uncle Lillyvick say?
What will he like him to be called } Will he be Peter, or
Alexander, or Pompey, or Diorgeenes, or what will he be ? '
And now when I look at him ; a precious unconscious help-
less infant, with no use in his little arms but to tear his little
cap, and no use in his little legs but to kick his little self —
when I see him a-lying on his mother's lap, cooing and coo-
ing, and, in his innocent state, almost a choking hisself with
his little fist— when I see him such a infant as he is, and think
that that uncle Lillyvick, as was once a going to be so fond of
him, has withdrawed himself away, such a feeling of wenge-
ance comes over me as no language can depicter, and I
feel as if even that holy babe was a telling me to hate him."
This affecting picture moved Mrs. Kenwigs deeply. After
several imperfect \vords, which vainly attempted to struggle to
the surface, but were drowned and washed away by the strong-
tide of her tears, she spake.
"Uncle," said Mrs. Kenwigs, " to think that you should
have turned your back upon me and my dear children, and
upon Kenwigs which is the author of their being — you who
was once so kind and affectionate, and who, if anybody had
told us such a thing of, we should have withered with scorn
like lightning — you that little Lillyvick, our first and earliest
boy, was named after at the very altar ! Oh gracious I "
"Was it money that we cared for?" said Mr. Kenwigs.
"Was it property that we ever thought of ? "'
"No," cried Mrs. Kenwigs, "I scorn it.''
" So do I," said Mr. Kenwigs, " and I always did."
" My feelings have been lancerated," said Mrs. Kenwigs,
" My heart has been torn asunder with anguish, I have been
thrown back in my confinement, my unoffending infant has
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY. 683
been rendered uncomfortable and fractious, Morleena has
pined herself away to nothing ; all this 1 forget and forgive,
and with you, uncle, I never can quarrel. But never ask me
to receive her, never do it, uncle. For I will not, I will not,
I won't, I won't, I won't ! "
"Susan, my dear," said Mr. Kenwigs, "consider your
child."
" Yes," shrieked Mrs. Kenwigs, " I will consider my child !
I will consider my child ! My own child, that no uncles can
deprive me of ; my own hated, despised, deserted, cut-off little
child." And here the emotions of Mrs. Kenwigs became so
violent, that Mr. Kenwigs was fain to administer hartshorn
internally, and vinegar externally, and to destroy a staylace,
four petticoat strings, and several small buttons.
Newman had been a silent spectator of this scene ; for
Mr. Lilly\ick had signed to him not to withdraw, and Mr.
Kenwigs had further solicited his presence by a nod of invita-
tion. When Mrs. Kenwigs had been, in some degree, re-
stored, and Newman, as a person possessed of some influ-
ence with her, had remonstrated and begged her to compose
herself, Mr Lillyvick said in a faltering voice :
" I never shall ask anybody here to receive my — I needn't
mention the word ; you know what I mean. Kenwigs and
Susan, yesterday was a week she eloped with a half-pay cap-
tain ! "
Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs started together.
" Eloped with a half-pay captain,'' repeated Mr. Lillyvick,
" basely and falsely eloped with a half-pay captain. \Vith a
bottle-nosed captain that any man might have considered him-
self safe from. It was in this room," said Mr. Lillyvick,
looking sternly round, " that I first see Henrietta Petowker.
It is in this room that I turn her off, for ever."
This declaration completely changed the whole posture of
affairs. Mrs. Kenwigs threw herself upon the old gentleman's
neck, bitterly reproaching herself for her late harshness, and
exclaiming if she had suffered, what must his sufferings have
been ! Mr. Kenwigs grasped his hand, and vowed eternal
friendship and remorse. Mrs. Kenwigs was horror-stricken
to think that she should ever have nourished in her bosom such
a snake, adder, viper, serpent, and base crocodile, as Hen-
rietta Petowker. Mr. Kenwigs argued that she must have
been bad indeed not to have improved by so long a contem-
plation of Mrs. Kenwigs's virtues. Mrs, Kenwigs remembered
684 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
that Mr. Kenwigs had often said that lie was not quite satis-
fied of the propriet)' of Miss Petowker's conduct, and won-
dered how it was that she could have been blinded by such
a wretch. Mr. Kenwigs remembered that he had had his sus-
picions, but did not wonder why Mrs. Kenwigs had not had
hers, as she was all chastity, purity, and truth, and Henrietta all
baseness, falsehood, and deceit. And Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs
both said, with strong feelings and tears of sympathy, that
everything happened for the best ; and conjured the good
collector not to give way to unavailing grief, but to seek con-
solation in the society of those affectionate relations whose
arms and hearts were ever open to him..
"Out of affection and regard for you, Susan and Kenwigs,"
said Mr. Lillyvick, " and not out of revenge and spite against
her, for she is below it, I shall, to-morrow morning, settle
upon your children, and make payable to the survivors of
them when they come of age or marr}% that money which I
once meant to leave 'em in my will. The deed shall be ex-
ecuted to-morrow, and Mr. Noggs shall be one of the wit-
nesses. He hears me promise this, and he shall see it done."
Overpowered by this noble and generous offer, Mr. Ken-
wigs, Mrs. Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena Kenwigs, all began
to sob together ; and the noise of their sobbing, communicat-
ing itself to the next room where the children lay a-bed, and
causing them to cry too, Mr. Kenwigs rushed wildly in, and
bringing them out in his arms, by two and two, tumbled them
down in their nightcaps and gowns at the feet of Mr. Lilly-
vick, and called upon them to thank and bless him.
"And now," said Mr. Lillyvick, when a heart-rending
scene had ensued and the children were cleared away again,
" Give me some supper. This took place twenty mile from
town. I came up this morning, and have been lingering
about, all day, without being able to make up my mind to
come and see you. I humored her in everything, she had her
own way, she did just as she pleased, and now she has done
this. There was twelve teaspoons and twenty-four pound in
sovereigns — I missed them first — it's a trial — I feel I shall
never be able to knock a double knock again, when I go my
rounds — don't say anything more about it, please — the spoons
were worth — never mind — never mind ! "
With such muttered outpourings as these, the old gentle-
man shed a few tears ; but, they got him into the elbow-chair,
and prevailed upon him, without much pressing, to make a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
685
rty supper, and by the time he had finished his first pipe
and disposed of half a dozen glasses out of a crown bowl of
punch, ordered by Mr. Kenwigs, in celebration of his return
to the bosom of his family, he seemed, though still very hum-
ble, quite resigned to his fate, and rather relieved than other-
wise by the llight of his wife.
" When I see that man," said Mr. Kenwigs, with one
hand round Mrs. Kenwigs's waist, his other hand supporting
his pipe (which made him wink and cough very much, for he
was no smoker), and his eyes on Morleena, who sat upon her
uncle's knee, " when I see that man a mingling, once again,
in the spear which he adorns, and see his affections dewelop-
ing themselves in legitimate sitiwations, I feel that his nature
is as elewated and expanded, as his standing afore society as
a public character is unimpeached, and the woices of my in-
fant cliildren purvided for in life, seem to whisper to me
softly, ' This is an ewent at which Evins itself looks down ! ' "
CHAPTER LIII.
CONTAINING THE FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE PLOT CON-
TRIVED BY MR. RALPH NICKLEBY AND MR. ARTHUR GRIDE.
With that settled resolution and steadiness of purpose to
which extreme circumstances so often give birth, acting upon
far less excitable and more sluggish temperaments than that
which was the lot of Madeline Bray's admirer, Nicholas
started, at dawn of day, from the restless couch which no
sleep had visited on the previous night, and prepared to make
that last appeal, by whose slight and fragile thread her only
remaining hope of escape depended.
Although to restless and ardent minds, morning may be
the fitting season for exertion and activity, it is not always at
that time that hope is strongest or the spirit most sanguine
and buoyant. In trying and doubtful positions, youth, cus-
tom, a steady contemplation of the difticulties which surround
us, and a familiarity with them, imperceptibly diminish our ap-
prehensions and beget comparative indifference, if not a vague
and reckless confidence in some relief the means or nature of
686 NICHOLAS NICKLEBYs
which we care not to foresee. But when we come, fresh,
upon .such things in tlie morning, with that dark and silent
gap between us and yesterday ; with every link in the brittle
chain of hope, to rivet afresh ; our hot enthusiasm subdued,
and cool calm reason substituted in its stead ; doubt and mis-
giving revive. As the traveller sees farthest, by day, and
becomes aware of rugged mountains and trackless plains
which the friendly darkness had shrouded from his sight and
mind together, so, the wayfarer in the toilsome path of human
life, sees, with each returning sun," some new obstacle to sur-
mount, some new height to be attained. Distances stretch out
before him which, last night, were scarcely taken into account,
and the light which gilds all nature with its cheerful beams,
seems but to shine upon the weary obstacles that yet lie
strewn between him and the grave.
So thought Nicholas, when, with the impatience natural to
a situation like his, he softly left the house, and, feeling as
though to remain in bed were to lose most precious time,
and to be up and stirring were in some way to promote the
end he had in view, wandered into London ; perfectly well
knowing that for hours to come he could not obtain speech
with Ma le!i:ie, and could do nothing but wish the intervening
time away.
And, even now, as he paced the streets, and listlessly look-
ed round on the gradually increasing bustle and preparation
for the day, everything appeared to yield him some new occa-
sion for despondency. Last night, the sacrifice of a young,
affectionate, and beautiful creature, to such a wretch, and in
such a cause, had seemed a thing too monstrous to succeed ;
and the warmer he grew, the more confident he felt that some
interposition must save her from his clutches. But now, when
he thought how regularly things went on, from day to day, in
the same unvarying round ; how youth and beauty died, and
ugly griping age lived tottering on \ how crafty avarice grew
rich, and manly honest hearts were poor and sad ; how few they
were who tenaated the stately houses, and how many those
who lay in noisome pens, or rose each day and laid them
down each night, and lived and died, father and son, mother
and child, race upon race, generation upon generation, without
a home to shelter them or the energies of one single man di-
rected to their aid ; how, in seeking, not a luxurious and
splendid life, but the bare means of a most wretched and in-
adequate subsistence, there were women and children in that
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY. 687
one town, divided into classes, numbered and estimated as reg-
ularly as the noble families and folks of great degree, and
reared from infancy to drive most criminal and dreadful
trades ; how ignorance was punished and never taught ; how
jail-doors gaped and gallows loomed, for thousands urged
towards them by circumstances darkly curtaining their very
cradles' heads, and but for which they might have earned
their honest bread and lived in peace ; how many died in
soul, and had no chance of life ; how many who could scarcely
go astray, be they vicious as they would, turned haughtily from
the crushed and stricken wretch who could scarce do otherwise,
and who would have been a greater wonder had he or she done
well, than even they had they done ill ; how much injustice,
misery, and wrong, there was, and yet how the world rolled
on, from year to year, alike careless and indifferent, and no
man seeking to remedy or redress it ; when he thought of all
this, and selected from the mass the one slight case on which
his thoughts were bent, he felt, indeed, that there was little
ground for hope, and little reason why it should not form an
atom in the huge aggregate of distress and sorrow, and add
one small and unimportant unit to swell the great amount.
But youth is not prone to contemplate the darkest side of
a picture it can shift at will. By dint of reflecting on what he
had to do, and reviving the train of thought which night had
interrupted, Nicholas gradually summoned up his utmost
energy, and when the morning was sufficiently advanced for
his purpose, had no thought but that of using it to the best ad-
vantage. A hasty breakfast taken, and such affairs of busi-
ness as required prompt attention disposed of, he directed his
steps to the residence of Madeline Bray : whither he lost no
time in arriving.
It had occurred to him that, very possibly, the young lady
might be denied, although to him she never had been ; and
he was still pondering upon the surest method of obtaining
access to her in that case, when coming to the door of the
house, he found it had been left ajar — probably by the last per-
son who had gone out. The occasion was not one upon which
to observe the nicest ceremony ; therefore, availing himself of
this advantage, Nicholas walked gently up stairs and knocked
at the door of the room into which he had been accustomed
to be shown. Receiving permission to enter, from some per-
son on the other side, he opened the door and walked in.
Bray and his daughter were sitting there alone. It was
688 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
nearly three weeks since he had seen her last, but there was a
chan'^e ia the lovely girl before him which told Nicholas, in
startling terms, how much mental suffering had been com-
pressed into that short time. There are no words which can
express, nothing with which can be compared, the perfect
pallor, the clear transparent whiteness, of the beautiful face
which turned towards him when he entered. Her hair was a
rich deep brown, but shading that face, and straying upon a
neck that rivalled in whiteness, it seemed by the strong con-
trast raven black. Something of wildness and restlessness
there was in the dark eye, but there was the same patient look,
the same expression of gentle mournfulness which he well re-
membered, and no trace of a single tear. Most beautiful, —
more beautiful, perhaps, than ever — there was something in her
face which quite unmanned him, and appeared far more touching
than the wildest agony of grief. It was not merely calm and
composed, but fixed and rigid, as though the violent effort
which had summoned that composure beneath her father's eye,
while it mastered all other thoughts, had prevented even the
momentary expression they had communicated to the features
from subsiding, and had fastened it there, as an evidence of its
triumph.
The father sat opposite to her ; not looking dirqctly in
her face, but glancing at her, as he talked with a gay air which
ill disguised the anxiety of his thoughts. The drawing ma-
terials were not on their accustomed table, nor were any of the
other tokens of her usual occupations to be seen. The little
vases which Nicholas had always seen filled with fresh flowers,
were empty, or supplied only with a few withered stalks and
leaves. The bird was silent. The cloth that covered his cage
at night, was not removed. His mistress had forgotten him.
There are times when the mind, being painfully alive to re-
ceive impressions, a great deal may be noted at a glance.
This was one, for Nicholas had but glanced round him when
he was recognized by Mr. Bray, who said impatiently :
" Now, sir, what do you want ,? Name your errand here,
quickly, if you please, for my daughter and I are busily engaged
with other and more important matters than those you come
about. Come, sir, address yourself to your business at once."
Nicholas could very well discern that the irritability and
ini]3alience of this speech were assumed, and that Bray, in his
heart, was rejoiced at anv interruption which promised to en-
gage the attention of his daughter. He bent his eyes invol-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 689
untarily upon the father as he spoke, and marked his uneasi-
ness ; for he colored and turned his head away.
The device, however, so far as it was a device for causing
Madeline to interfere, was successful. She rose, and advan-
cing towards Nicholas paused half way, and stretched out her
hand as expecting a letter.
" Madeline," said her father impatiently : "my love, what
are you doing } "
" Miss Bray expects an inclosure perhaps," said Nicholas,
speaking very distinctly, and with an emphasis she could
scarcely misunderstand. " My employer is absent from Eng-
land, or I should have brought a letter with me. I hope she
will give me time — a little time. I ask a very little time."
" If that is all you come about, sir," said Mr. Bray, " you
may make yourself easy on that head. Madeline, my dear,
I didn't know this person was in your debt .'' "
" A — a tritie I believe," returned Madeline, faintly.
" I suppose you think now," said Bray, wheeling his chair
round and confronting Nicholas, "that, but for such pitiful
sums as you bring here, because my daughter has chosen to
employ her time as she has, we should starve ? "
" I have not thought about it," returned Nicholas.
" You have not thought about it ! " sneered the invalid.
" You know you have thought about it. and have thought that,
and think so every time you come here. Do you suppose,
young man, that I don't know what little purse-proud trades-
men are, when, through some fortunate circumstances, they get
the upper hand for a brief day — or think they get the upper
hand — of a gentleman ? "
"My business," said Nicholas respectfully, "is with a
lady."
" With a gentleman's daughter, sir," returned the sick
man, " and the pettifogging spirit is the same. But perhaps
you bring orders eh ? Have you any fresh orders for my
daughter, sir .? "
Nicholas understood the tone of triumph in which this
interrogatory was put ; but, remembering the necessity of
supporting his assumed character, produced a scrap of paper
purporting to contain a list of some subjects for drawings
which his employer desired to have executed ; and with which
he had prepared himself in case of any such contingency.
" Oh ! " said Mr. Bray. " These are the orders, are
they ? "
44
690
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Since you insist upon the term, sir, yes," replied Nich-
olas.
" Then you may tell your master," said Bray, tossing the
paper back again, with an exulting smile, " that my daughter,
Miss Madeline Bray, condescends to employ herself no longer
in such labors as these ; that she is not at his beck and call,
as he supposes her to be ; that we don't live upon his money,
as he flatters himself we do ; that he may give whatever he
owes us, to the first beggar who passes his shop, or add it to
his own profits next time he calculates them ; and that he may
go to the devil, for me. That's my acknowledgment of his
orders, sir ! "
" And this is the independence of a man who sells his
daughter as he has sold that weeping girl ! " thought Nicholas.
The father was too much absorbed with his own exultation
to mark the look of scorn which, for an instant, Nicholas could
not have suppressed had he been upon the rack. " There,"
he continued, after a short silence, " you have your message
and can retire — unless you have any further — ha ! — any further
orders."
"I have none," said Nicholas ; " nor in consideration of
the station you once held, have I used that or any other word
which, however harmless in itself, could be supposed to imply
authority on my part or dependence on yours. I have no
orders, but I have fears — fears that I will express, chafe as
you may-^fears that you may be consigning that young lady
to something worse than supporting you by the labor of her
hands, had she worked herself dead. These are my fears,
and these fears I found upon your own demeanor. Your
conscience will tell you, sir, wdiether I construe it well or
not."
, " For Heaven's sake ! " cried Madeline, interposing in
alarm between them. " Remember, sir, he is ill."
" 111 ! " cried the invalid, gasping and catching for breath,
"111! ill ! I am bearded and bullied by a shopboy, and she
beseeches him to pity me and remember I am ill ! "
He fell into a paroxysm of his disorder, so violent that
for a few moments Nicholas was alarmed for his life ; but
finding that he began to recover, he withdrew, after signifying
by a gesture to the young lady that he had something impor-
tant to communicate, and would wait for her outside the room.
He could hear that the sick man came, gradually, but slowly
to himself, and that without any reference to what had just
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 69 1
occurred, as though he had no distinct recollection of it, as
yet, he requested to be left alone.
" Oh ! " thought Nicholas, " that this slender chance might
not be lost, and that I might prevail, if it were but for one
week's time and re-consideration ! "
" You are charged with some commission to me, sir," said
Madeline, presenting herself in great agitation. " Do not
press it now, 1 beg and pray you. The day after to-morrow ;
come here then."
" It will be too late — too late for what I have to say," re-
joined Nicholas, " and you will not be here. Oh, madam, if
you have but one thought of him who sent me here, but one
last lingering care for your own peace of mind and heart, I do
for God's sake urge you to give me a hearing."
She attempted to pass him, but Nicholas gently detained
her.
" A hearing," said Nicholas. " I do ask you but to hear
me : not me alone, but him for whom I speak, who is far away
and does not know your danger. In the name of Heaven
hear me ! "
The poor attendant, with her eyes swollen and red with
weeping, stood by ; to her, Nicholas appealed in such passion-
ate terms that she opened a side-door, and, supporting her
mistress into an adjoining room, beckoned Nicholas to follow
them.
" Leave me, sir, pray," said the young lady.
" I cannot, will not leave you thus," returned Nicholas.
" I have a duty to discharge ; and, either here, or in the room
from which we have just now come, at whatever risk or hazard
to Mr. Bray, I rnust beseech you to contemplate again the
fearful course to which you have been impelled."
"What course is this you speak of, and impelled by whom,
sir ? " demanded the young lady, with an effort to speak
proudly.
" I speak of this marriage," returned Nicholas ; "of this
marriage, fixed for to-morrow, by one who never faltered in a
bad purpose, or lent his aid to any good design ; of this mar-
riage, the history of which is known to me, better, far better,
than it is to you. I know what web is wound about you. I
know what men they are from whom these schemes have come.
You are betrayed, and sold for money ; for gold, whose every
coin is rusted with tears, if not red with the blood of ruined
men, who have fallen desperately by their own mad hands."
692 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
"You say you have a duty to discharge," said Madeline,
" and so have I. And with the help of Heaven 1 will perform
mine."
" Say rather with the help of devils," replied Nicholas:
" with the hel]) of men, one of them your destmed husband,
who are "
"I must not hear this," cried the young lady, striving to
repress a shudder, occasioned, as it seemed, even by this
slight allusion to Arthur Gride. " This evil, if evil it be, has
been of my own seeking. I am impelled to this course by no
one, but follow it of my own free will. You see I am not con-
strained or forced. Report this, ' said Madeline, " to my dear
friend and benefactor, and, taking with you my prayers and
thanks for him and for yourself, leave me for ever ! "
" Not until I have besought you, with all the earnestness
and fervor by which I am animated," cried Nicholas, " to post-
pone this marriage for one short week. Not until I have be-
sought you to think, more deeply than you can have done, in-
fluenced as you are, upon the step you are about to take.
Although you cannot be fully conscious of the villany of this
man to whom you are about to give your hand, some of his
deeds you know. You have heard him speak, and have
looked upon his face. Rellect, reflect before it is too late, on
the mockery of plighting to him at the altar, faith in which )our
heart can have no share — of uttering solemn words, against
which nature and reason must rebel — of the degradation of
yourself in your own esteem, which must ensue, and must be
aggravated every day, as his detested character opens upon you
more and more. Shrink from the loathsome companionship
of this wretch as you would from corruption and disease.
Suffer toil and labor if you will, but shun him, shun him, and
be happy. For, believe me, I speak the truth ; the most
abject poverty, the most wretched condition of human life,
with a pure and upright mind, would be happiness to that
which you must undergo as the wife of such a man as this ! "
Long before Nicholas ceased to speak, the young lady
buried her face in her hands, and gave her tears free way. In
a voice at first inarticulate with emotion, but gradually re-
covering strength as she proceeded, she answered him :
" I will not disguise from you, sir — though perhaps I ought
— that I ha\e undergone great pain of mind, and have been
nearly broken-hearted since I saw you last. I do not lov-e
this gentleman. The difference between our ages, tastes, and
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
693
habits, forbids it. This he knows, and knowing, still offers me
his hand. By accepting it, and by that step alone, 1 can re-
lease my father who is dying in this place ; prolong his life,
perhaps, for many years ; restore him to comfort — I may al-
most call it affluence ; and relieve a generous man from the
burden of assisting one, by whom, I grieve to say, his noble
heart is little understood. Do not think so poorly of me as to
believe that I feign a love I do not feel. Do not report so ill
of me, for that I could not bear. If I cannot, in reason or in
nature, love the man who pays this price for my poor hand, I
can discharge the duties of a wife : I can be all he seeks in
me, and will. He is content to take me as I am. I have
passed my word, and should rejoice, not weep, that it is so.
I do. The interest you take in one so friendless and forlorn
as I, the delicacy with which you have discharged your trust,
the faith you ha\e kept with me, have my warmest thanks,
and, while I make this last feeble acknowledgment, move me
to tears, as you see. But I do not repent, nor am I unhappy.
I am happy in the prospect of all I can achieve so easily. I
shall be more so when I look back upon it, and all is clone, I
know."
"Your tears fall faster as you talk of happiness," said
Nicholas, " and you shun the contemplation of that dark
future which must be laden with so much misery to you.
Defer this marriage for a week. For but one week ! "
" He was talking, when you came upon us just now, with
such smiles as I remember to h^ve seen of old, and have not
seen for many and many a day, of the freedom that was to
come to-morrow," said Madeline, with momentary firmness :
" of the welcome change, the fresh air, all the new scenes and
objects that would bring fresh life to his exhausted frame.
His eye grew bright, and his face lightened at the thought. T
will not defer it for an hour."
"These are but tricks and wiles to urge you on," cried
Nicholas.
" I'll hear no more," said Madeline, hurriedly, " I have
heard too much — more than I should — already. What I have
said to you, sir, I have said as to that dear friend to whom I
trust in you honorably to repeat it. Some time hence, when I
am more composed and reconciled to my new mode of life, if
I should live so long, I will write to him. Meantime, all holy
angels shower blessings on his head, and prosper and preserve
him."
694 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
She was hurrying past Nicholas, when he threw himself
before her, and implored her to think, but once again, upon
the fate to which she was precipitately hastening.
"There is no retreat," said Nicholas, in an agony of sup-
plication, " no withdrawing ! All regret will be unavailing,
and deep and bitter it must be. What can I say, that will in-
duce you to pause at this last moment ! What can I do, to
save you ! "
" Nothing," she incoherently replied. " This is the hardest
trial I have had. Have mercy on me, sir, I beseech, and do
not pierce my heart with such appeals as these. I — I hear
him calling. I — I must not, will not, remain here for another
instant."
" If this were a plot," said Nicholas, with the same vio-
lent rapidity with which she spoke, " a plot, not yet laid
bare by me, but which with time I might unravel ; if you were
(not knowing it) entitled to fortune of your own, which, being
recovered, would do all that this marriage can accomplish,
would you not retract .'' "
" No, no no ! It is impossible ; it is a child's tale. Time
would bring his death. He is calling again ! "
"It may be the last time we shall ever meet on earth,"
said Nicholas, " it may be better for me that we should never
meet more."
"For both, for both," replied Madeline, not heeding what
she said. " The time will come when to recall the memory of
this one interview might drive me mad. Be sure to tell them,
that you left me calm and happy. And God be with you, sir,
and my grateful heart and blessing ! "
She was gone. Nicholas, staggering from the house,
thought of the hurried scene which had just closed upon him,
as if it were the phantom of some wild, unquiet dream. The
day wore on ; at night, hafving been enabled in some measure
to collect his thoughts, he issued forth again.
. That night, being the last of Arthur Gride's bachelorship,
found him in tip-top spirits and great glee. The bottle-green
suit had been brushed, ready for the morrow. Peg Sliderskew
had rendered the accounts of her past housekeeping ; the
eighteenpence had been rigidly accounted for (sh"e was never
trusted with a larger sum at once, and the accounts were not
usually balanced more than twice 'a-day) ; every preparation
had been made for the coming festival ; and Arthur might
have sat down and contemplated his approaching happiness.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 695
but that he preferred sitting down and contemplating the
entries in a dirty old vellum-book with rusty clasps.
" Well-a-day ! " he chuckled, as sinking on his knees be-
fore a strong chest screwed down to the floor, he thrust in his
arm nearly up to the shoulder, and slowly drew forth this
greasy volume, " Well-a-day now, this is all my library, but it's
one of the most entertaining books that were ever written !
It's a delightful book, and all true and real — that's the best of
it — true as the Bank of England, and real as, its gold and
silver. Written by Arthur Gride. He, he, he ! None of
your story-book writers will ever make as good a book as this,
I warrant me. It's composed for private circulation, for my
own particular reading, and nobody else's. He, he, he ! "
Muttering this soliloquy, Arthur carried his precious volume
to the table, and, adjusting it upon a dusty desk, put on his
spectacles, and began to pore among the leaves.
'^It's a large sum to Mr. Nickleby," he said, in a dolorous
voice. " Debt to be paid in full, nine hundred and seventy-'
five, four, three. Additional sum as per bond, five hundred.
One thousand, four hundred and seventy-five pounds, four
shillings, and threepence, to-morrow at twelve o'clock. On the
other side though, there's the per contra., by means of this
pretty chick. But, again, there's the questions whether I
mightn't have brought all this about myself. ' Faint heart
never won fair lady.' Why was my heart so faint ? Why
didn't I boldly open it to Bray myself, and save one thousand
four hundred and seventy-five, four, three ! "
These reflections depressed the old usurer so much, as to
wring a feeble groan or two front his breast, and cause him to
declare, with uplifted hands, that he would die in a workhouse.
Remembermg on further cogitation, however, that under afty
circumstances he must have paid, or handsomely compounded
for, Ralph's debt, and being by no means confident that he
would have succeeded had he undertaken his enterprise alone,
he regained his equanimity, and chattered and mowed over
more satisfactory items, until the entrance of Peg Sliderskew
interrupted him.
"Aha, Peg ! " said Arthur, "what is it? What is it now,
Peo-?"
"It's the fowl," replied Peg, holding up a plate containing
a little, a very little, one. Quite a phenomenon of a fowl.
So very small and skinny. -
" A beautiful bird ! " said Arthur, after inquiring the price
696
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
and finding it proportionate to the size. " With a rasher of
ham, and an egg made into sauce, and potatoes, and greens
and an apple pudding. Peg, and a little bit of cheese, we
shall have a dinner for, an emperor. There'll only be she
and me — and you, Peg, when we've done."
" Don't you complain of the expense afterwards," said Mrs.
Sliderskew, sulkily.
" I'm afraid we must live expensively for the first week,"
returned Arthur, with a groan, " and then we must make up
for it. I won't eat more than I can help, and I know you
love your old master too much to eat more than you can help,
don't you. Peg ? "
" Don't I what ? " said Peg.
" Love your old master too much — "
" No, not a bit too much," said Peg.
" Oh dear, I wish the devil had this woman ! " cried
Arthur : " love him too much to eat more than you can help
at his expense."
" At his what } " said Peg.
" Oh dear ! She can never hear the most important word,
and hears all the others ! " whined Gride. " At his expense
— you catamaran ! "
The last-mentioned tribute to the charms of Mrs. Sli-
derskew, being uttered in a whisper, that lady assented to
the general proposition by a harsh growl which was accom-
panied by a ring at the street-door.
" There's the bell," said Arthur.
"Ay, ay ; I know that," rejoined Peg.
" Then why don't you go ? " bawled Arthur.
" Go where ? " retorted Peg. " I ain't doing any harm
here, am I } "
Arthur Gride in reply repeated the word " bell " as loud
as he could roar ; and, his meaning being rendered further
intelligible to Mrs. Sliderskew's dull sense of hearing by pan-
tomime expressive of ringing at a street-door, Peg hobbled
out after sharply demanding why he hadn't said there was a
ring, before, instead of talking about all manner of things
that had nothing to do with it, and keeping her half-pint of
beei waiting on the steps.
"There's a change come over you, Mrs. Peg," said
Arthur, following her out with his eyes. " What it means I
don't quite know ; but, if it lasts, we shan't agree together
long I see. You are turning crazy, I think. If you are, you
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
697
must take yourself off, Mrs. Peg — or be taken off. All's one
to me." Turning over the leaves of his book as he muttered
this, he soon lighted upon something which attracted his atten-
tion, and forgot Peg Sliderskew and everything else in the
engrossing interest of its pages.
The room had no other light than that which it derived
from a dim and dirt-clogged lamp, whose lazy wick, being still
further obscured by a dark shade, cast its feeble rays over a
ver}' little space, and left all beyond in heavy shadow. This
lamp, the money-lender had drawn so close to him, that there
was only room between it and himself for the book over
which he bent ; and as he sat, with his elbows on the desk,
and his sharp cheek-bones resting on his hands, it only served
to bring out his vigly features in strong relief, together with
the little table at which he sat, and to shroud all the rest of
the chamber in a deep sullen gloom. Raising his eyes, and
looking vacantly into this gloom as he made some mental cal-
culation, Arthur Gride suddenlv met the fixed gaze of a man.
" Thieves ! thieves ! " shrieked the usurer, starting up and
folding his book to his breast. " Robbers ! Murder ! "
" What is the matter ? " said the form, advancing.
" Keep oft" ! " cried the trembling wretch. " Is it a man
or a — a — "
" For what do you take me, if not for a man ? " was the
inquiry.
" Yes, yes," cried Arthur Gride, shading his eyes with his
hand " it is a man and not a spirit. It is a man. Robbers !
robbers ! "
" For what are these cries raised ? Unless indeed you
know me, and have some purpose in your brain ? " said the
stranger, coming close up to him. '' I am no thief."
" What then, and how come you here .'' " cried Gride,
somewhat re-assured, but still retreating from his visitor :
"what is your name, and what do you want ? "
*' My name you need not know," was the reply. " I came
here, because I was shown the way by your servant. I
have addressed you twice or thrice, but you were too pro-
foundly engaged with your book to hear me, and I have been
silently waiting until you should be less abstracted. What I
want, I will tell you, when you can summon up courage enough
to hear and understand me."
Arthur Gride venturing to regard his visitor more atten-
tively, and perceiving that he was a young man of good mien
698 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
and bearing, returned to his seat, and muttering that there
were bad characters about, and that this, with former attempts
upon his house, had made him nervous, requested his visitor
to sit down. However he declined.
" Good God ! I don't stand up to have you at an advan-
tage," said Nicholas (for Nicholas it was), as he observed a
gesture of alarm on the part of Gride. " Listen to me. You
are to be married to-morrow morning."
"N — n — no," rejoined Gride. " Who said I was .'' How
do you know that } "
"No matter how," replied Nicholas, " I know it. The
young lady who is to give you her hand, hates and despises
you. Her blood runs cold at the mention of your name ; the
vulture and the lamb, the rat and the dove, could not be
worse matched than you and she, You see I know her."
Gride looked at him as if he were petrified with astonish-
ment, but did not speak • perhaps lacking the power.
" You and another man, Ralph Nickleby by name, have
hatched this plot between you," pursued Nicholas. "You
pay him for his share in bringing about this sale of Madeline
Bray. You do. A lie is trembling on your lips, I see."
He paused ; but Arthur making no reply, resumed again.
" You pay yourself by defrauding her. How or by what
means — for I scorn to sully her cause by falsehood or deceit
— I do not know ; at present I do not know, but I am not
alone or single-handed in this business. If the energy of
man can compass the discovery of your fraud and treachery
before your death ; if wealth, revenge, and just hatred, can
hunt and track you through your windings ; you will yet be
called to a dear account for this. We are on the scent al-
ready ; judge you who know what we do not, when we shall
have you down ? "
He paused again, and still Arthur Gride glared upon him
in silence.
" If you were a man to whom I could appeal with any hope
of touching his compassion or humanity." said Nicholas, "I
would urge upon you to remember the helplessness, the inno-
cence, the youth, of this lady ; her worth and beauty, her filial
excellence, and last, and more than all as concerning you more
nearly, the appeal she has made to your mercy and your manly
feeling. But I take the only ground that can be taken with
men like you, and ask what money will buy you ofif. Remem-
ber the danger to which you are exposed. You see I know
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 699
enough, to know much more with very little help. Bate some
expected gain, for the risk you save, and say what is your
price."
Old Arthur Gride moved his lips, but they only formed an
ugly smile and were motionless again.
" You think," said Nicholas, " that the price would not be
paid. Miss Bray has wealthy friends who would coin their
very hearts to save her in such a strait as this. Name your
price, defer these nuptials for but a few days, and see whether
those I speak of, shrink from the payment. Do you hear me ? "
When Nicholas began, Arthur Gride's impression was, that
Ralph Nickleby had betrayed him ; but, as he proceeded, he
felt convinced that however he had come by the knowledge
he possessed, the part he acted was a genuine one, and that
with Ralph he had no concern. All he seemed to know for
certain, was, that he, Gride, paid Ralph's debt ; but that, to
anybody who knew the circumstances of Bray's detention —
even to Bray. himself on Ralph's own statement — must be per-
fectly notorious. As to the fraud on Madeline herself, his
visitor knew so little about its nature or extent, that it might
be a lucky guess, or a hap-hazard accusation. Whether or no,
he had clearly no key to the mystery, and could not hurt him
who kept it close within his own breast. The allusion to
friends, and the offer of money, Gride held to be mere empty
vaporing, for purposes of delay, " And even if money were to
be had," thought Arthur Gride, as he glanced at Nicholas,
and trembled with passion at his boldness and audacity, " I'd
have that dainty chick for my wife, and cheat you of her,
young smooth-face ! "
Long habit of weighing and noting well what clients said,
and nicely balancing chances in his mind and calculating odds
to their faces, without the least appearance of being so en-
gaged, had rendered Gride quick in forming conclusions, and
arriving, from puzzling, intricate, and often contradictory
premises, at very cunning deductions. Hence it was, that, as
Nicholas went on, he followed him closely with his own con-
structions, and, when he ceased to speak, was as well prepared
as if he had deliberated for a fortnight.
" I hear you," he cried, starting from his seat, casting back
the fastenings of the window-shutters, and throwing up the
sash. "Help here! Help! Help!"
" What are you doing ! " said Nicholas, seizing him by the
arm.
7 oo NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I'll cry robbers, thieves, murder, alarm the neighborhood,
struggle with you, let loose some blood, and swear you came
to rob me, if you don't quit my house." replied Gride, draw-
ing in his head with a frightful grin, " i will ! "
" Wretch ! " cried Nicholas.
" You'll bring your threats here, will you ? " said
Gride, whom jealousy of Nicholas and a sense of his own
triumph had converted into a perfect fiend. " You, the dis-
appointed lover ? Oh, dear ! He ! he ! he ! But you shan't
have her, nor she you. She's my wife, my doting little wife.
Do you think she'll miss you? Do you think she'll weep? I
shall like to see her weep, I shan't mind it. She looks prettier
in tears."
" Villain ! " said Nicholas, choking with his rage.
"One minute more," cried Arthur Gride, "and I'll rouse
the street with such screams, as, if they were raised by any
body else, should wake me even in the arms of pretty Made-
line."
" You hound ! " said Nicholas, " if you were but a younger
man "
" Oh yes ! " sneered Arthur Gride, " if I was but a younger
man it wouldn't be so bad ; but for me, so old and ugly ! To
be jilted by little Madeline for me ! "
"Hear me," said Nicholas, "and be thankful I have
enough command over myself not to fiing you into the street,
which no aid could prevent my doing if I once grappled with
you. I have been no lover of this lady's. No contract or
engagement, no word of love, has ever passed between us.
She does not even know my name."
" I'll ask it for all that. I'll beg it of her with kisses,"
said Arthur Gride. " Yes, and she'U tell me, and pay them
back, and we'll laugh together, and hug ourselves, and be
very merry, when we think of the poor youth that wanted to
have her, but couldn't because she was bespoke by me ! "
This taunt brought such an expression into the face of
Nicholas, that Arthur Gride plainly apprehended it to be the
forerunner of his putting his threat of throwing him into the
street in immediate execution ; for he thrust his head out of
the window, and holding tight on with both hands, raised a
pretty brisk alarm. Not thinking it necessary to abide the
issue of the noise, Nicholas gave vent to an indignant defiance,
and stalked from the room and from the house. Arthur Gride
watched him across tlie street, and then, drawing in his head,
fastened the window as before, and sat down to take breath.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 701
" If she ever turns pettish or ill-humored, I'll taunt her
witli that spark," he said, when he had recovered. " She'll
little think i know about him ; and, if I manage it well, I can
break her spirit by this means ^nd liave her under my thumb.
I'm glad nobody came. I didn't call too loud. The audacity
to enter my house, and open upon me ! 13ut I shall have a
very good triumph to-morrow, and he 11 be gnawing his fingers
off : perhaps drown himself, or cut his throat ! I shouldn't
wonder 1 That would make it quite complete, that would :
quite."
When he had become restored to his usual condition by
these and other comments on his approaching triumph,
Arthur Gride put away his book, and having locked the
chest with great caution, descended into the kitchen to warn
Peg Sliderskew to bed, and scold her for having afforded such
ready admission to a stranger.
The unconscious Peg, however, not being able to compre-
hend the offence of which she had been guilty, he summoned
her to hold the light, while he made a tour of the fastenings,
and secured the street-door with his own hands.
"Top bolt," muttered Artliur, fastening as he spoke, "bot-
tom bolt, chain, bar, double-lock, and key out to put under
my pillow ! So, if any more rejected admirers come, they
may come through the key-hole. And now I'll go to sleep
till half-past fi\e, when I must get up to be married, Peg ! "
With that, he jocularly tapped Mrs. Sliderskew under the
chin, and appeared for the moment inclined to celebrate the
close of his bachelor days by imprinting a kiss on her shriv-
elled lips. Thinking better of it, however, he gave her chin
another tap, in lieu of that warmer familiarity, and stole away
to bed.
CHAPTER LIV.
THE CRISIS OF THE PROJECT AND ITS RESULT.
There are not many men who lie abed too late, or over-
sleep themselves, on their wedding morning. A legend there
is, of somebody remarkable for absence of mind, who opened
his eyes upon the day which was to give him a young wife, and
7o:
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
&
forgetting all about the matter, rated his servants for providing
him with such tine clothes as had been prepared for the festi-
val. There is also a legend of a young gentleman, who, not
having before his eyes the fear of the canons of the church
for such cases made and provided, conceived a passion for his
grandmother. Both cases are of a singular and special kind,
and it is very doubtful whether either can be considered as a
precedent likely to be extensively followed by succeeding gen-
erations.
Arthur Gride had enrobed himself in his marriage gar-
ments of bottle-green, a full hour before Mrs. Sliderskew,
shaking off her more heavy slumbers, knocked at his chamber
door ; and he had hobbled down stairs in full array and
smacked his lips over a scanty taste of his favorite cordial,
ere that delicate piece of antiquity enlightened the kitchen
with her presence.
" Faugh ! " said Peg, grubbing, in the discharge of her do-
mestic functions among a scanty heap of ashes in the rusty
grate, " Wedding indeed ! A precious wedding ! He wants
somebody better than his old Peg to take care of him, does
he ? And what has he said to me, many and many a time, to
keep me content with short food, small wages, and little fire ?
' My will, Peg ! my will ! ' says he, ' I'm a bachelor — no friends
— no relations, Peg!' Lies ! And now he's to bring home a
new mistress, a baby-faced chit of a girl ! If he wanted a wife,
the fool, why couldn't he have one suitable to his age and that
knew his ways ? She won't come in my way, he says. No,
that she won't ; but you little think why, Arthur boy ! "
While Mrs. Sliderskew, influenced possibly by some linger-
ing feelings of disappointment and personal slight, occasioned
by her old master's preference for another, was giving loose
to these grumblings below stairs, Arthur Gride was cogitating
in the parlor upon what had taken place last night.
" I can't think how he can ha\e picked up what he knows,"
said Arthur, " unless I have committed myself — let something
drop at Pray's, for instance — which has been overheard.
Perhaps I may. I shouldn't be surprised if that was it. Mr.
Nicklcby was often angry at my talking to him before we got
outside the door. I musn'ttell him that part of the business,
or he'll put me out of sorts, and make me nervous for the
day."
Ralph was universally looked up to, and recognized among
his fellows as a superior genius, but upon Arthur (iride Jiis
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 703
stern unyielding character and consummate art had made so
deep an impression, that he was actually afraid of him.
Cringing and cowardly to the core, by nature, Arthur Gride
humbled himself in the dust before Ralph Nickleby, and,
even when they had not this stake in common, would have
licked his shoes and crawled upon the ground before him
rather than venture to return him word for word, or retort
upon him in any other spirit than one of the most slavish and
abject sycophancy.
To Ralph Nickleby's, Arthur Gride now betook himself
according to appointment ; and to Ralph Nickleby he related,
how, last night, some young blustering blade whom he had
ne\er seen, forced his way into his house, and tried to frighten
him from the proposed nuptials. Told, in short, what Nicho-
las had said and done, with the slight reservation upon which
he had determined.
" Well, and what then ? " said Ralph.
"Oh ! nothing more," rejoined Gride.
"He tried to frighten you," said Ralph, "and you were
frightened I suppose ; is that it t "
" I frightened him by crying thieves and murder," replied
Gride. " Once I was in earnest, I tell you that, for I had
more than half a mind to swear he uttered threats, and
demanded my life or my money."
" Oho ! " said Ralph, eyeing him askew. "Jealous too ! "
" Dear now, see that ! " cried Arthur, rubbing his hands
and affecting to laugh.
"Why do you make those grimaces, man ?" said Ralph ;
" you arc jealous — and with good cause 1 think."
""KoT no? 110 ; not with good cause, hey ? You don't
think with good cause, do you ? " cried Arthur, faltering, " Do
you though, hey ? "
' Why, how' stands the fact t " returned Ralph. " Here is
an old man about to be forced in marriage, upon a girl ; and
to this old man there comes a handsome young fellow — you
said he was handsome, didn't you ? "
" No 1" snarled Arthur Gride.
" Oh ! " rejoined Ralph, " I thought you did. Well !
Handsome or not handsome, to this old man there comes a
young fellow who casts all manner of fierce defiances in his
teeth — gums I should rather say — and tells him in plain terms
that his mistress hates him. What does he do that for >
Philanthropy's sake ? "
^04 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Not for love of the lady," replied Gride, " for he said that
no word of love (his very words) had ever passed between 'em."
" He said ! " repeated Ralph, contemptuously. " But I
like him for one thing, and that is, his giving you this fair
warning to keep your — what is it ? — Tit-tit or dainty chick —
which ? — under lock and key. Be careful, Gride, be careful.
It's a triumph, too, to tear her away from a gallant young
rival : a great triumph for an old man ! It only remains to
keep her safe when you have her — that's all."
" What a man it is ! " cried Arthur Gride, affecting, in the
extremity of his torture, to be highly amused. And then he
added, anxiously, " Yes ; to keep her safe, that's all. And
that isn't much, is it ? "
" Much ! " said Ralph, with a sneer. " Why, ever^'body
knows what easy things to understand and to control, women
are. But come, it's very nearly time for you to be made
happy. You'll pay the bond, now, I suppose, to save us
trouble afterwards!"
"^ " Oh what a man vou are ! " croaked Arthur.
" Why not ? " said Ralph. " Nobody will pay you interest
for the money, I suppose, between this and twelve o'clock :
will they ? "
" But nobody would pay you interest for it either, you
know," returned Arthur, leering at Ralph with all the cunning
and slyness he could throw into his face.
" Besides which," said Ralph, suffering his lip to curl into
a smile, " you haven't the money about you, and you weren't
prepared for this, or you'd have brought it with you ; and
there's nobody you'd so much like to accommodate as me.
I see. We trust each other in about an equal degree. Are
you ready ? "
Gride, who had done nothing but grin, and nod, and
chatter, during this last speech of Ralph's, answered in the
affirmative ; and, producing from his hat a couple of large
white favors, pinned one on his breast, and with considerable
difficulty induced his friend to do the like. Thus accoutred,
they got into a hired coach which Ralph had in waiting, and
drove to the residence of the fair and most wretched bride.
Gride, whose spirits and courage had gradually failed him
more and more as they approached nearer and nearer to the
house, was utterly dismayed and cowed by the mournful
silence which pervaded it. The face of the poor servant-girl,
the only person they saw, was disfigured with tears and want
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 705
of sleep. There was nobody to receive or welcome them ;
and they stole up stairs into the usual sitting-room, more like
two burglars than the bridegroom and his friend.
" One would think," said Ralph, speaking, in spite of
himself, in alow and subdued voice, " that there was a funeral
going on here, and not a wedding."
" He, he ! " tittered his friend, " you are so — so very
funny ! "
"I need be," remarked Ralph, diyly, "for this is rather
dull and chilling. Look a little brisker, man, and not so hang-
dog like ! "
" Yes, yes, I will," said Gride. " But — but — you don't
think she's coming just yet, do you ? "
"Why, I suppose she'll not come till she is obliged,"
returned Ralph, looking at his watch, " and she has a good
half-hour to spare yet. Curb your impatience."
"I — I — am not impatient," stammered Arthur. "I
wouldn't be hard with her for the world. Oh dear, dear, not
on any account. Let her take her time — her own time. Her
time shall be ours by all means."
While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look,
which showed that he perfectly understood the reason of this
great consideration and regard, a footstep was heard upon the
stairs, and Bray himself came into the room on tiptoe, and
holding up his hand with a cautious gesture, as if there were
some sick person near, who must not be disturbed.
" Hush ! " he said^ in a low voice. " She was very ill,
last night. I thought she would have broken her heart. She
is dressed, and crying bitterly in her own room; but she's
better, and quite quiet. That s everything 1 "
" She is ready, is she ? " said Ralph.
"Quite ready," returned the father.
" And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses
— fainting, or so forth ? " said Ralph.
" She may be safely trusted now," returned Bray. " I
have been talking to her this morning. Here ! Come a little
this way."
He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the room,
and pointed towards Gride, who sat huddled together in a
corner, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his coat, and
exhibiting a face of which every skulking and base expression
was sharpened and aggravated to the utmost by his anxiety
and trepidation.
45
7o6
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Look at that man," whispered Bray, emphatically. " This
seems a cruel thing, after all."
" What seems a cruel thing ? " inquired Ralph, with as
much stolidity of face, as if he really were in utter ignorance
of the other's meaning.
" This marriage," answered Bray. " Don't ask me what.
You know as well as I do."
Ralph shrugged his shoulders, in silent deprecation of
Bray's impatience, and elevated his eyebrows, and pursed
his lips, as men do when they are prepared with a sufficient
answer to some remark, but wait for a more favorable oppor-
tunity of advancing it, or think it scarcely worth while to
answer their adversary at all,
" Look at him. Does it not seem cruel ? " said Bray.
" No ! " replied Ralph boldly.
" I say it does," retorted Bray, with a show of much irrita-
tion. " It is a cruel thing, by all that's bad and treacherous ! "
When men are about to commit, or to sanction the com-
mission of some injustice, it is not uncommon for them to ex-
mjess^ity. f or .tlie~"o5ject either of that or some parallel pro-
ceeHmg, and to feel themselves, at the time, quite virtuous
and moral, andlrrTmensely superior to those who express no
piryaTall. This is a kind of upholding of faith above works,
and is very comfortable. To do Ralph Nickleby justice, he
seldom practised this sort of dissimulation ; but he understood
those who did, and therefore suffered Bray to say, again and
again, with great vehemence, that they were jointly doing a
very cruel thing, before he again offered to interpose a \yord.
" You see what a dry, shnvelled, withered old chip it is,"
returned Ralph, when the other was at length silent. " If he
were younger, it might be cruel, but as it is — harkee, Mr.
Bray, he'll die soon, and leave her a rich young widow ! Miss
Madeline consults your taste this time ; let her consult her
own next."
"True, true," said Bray, biting his nails, and plainly very
ill at ease. " I couldn't do anything better for her than advise
her to accept these proposals, could I ? Now, I ask you,
Nicklebv, as a man of the world ; could I ? "
" Surely not," answered Ralph. " I tell you what, sir ;
there are a hundred fathers, within a circuit of five miles from
this place ; well off ; good, rich, substantial men ; who would
gladly give their daughters, and their own ears with them, to
that very man yonder, ape and mummy as he looks."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 707
*' So there are ! " exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at any-
thing which seemed a justitication of himself. " And so I
told her, both last night and to-day."
" You told her truth," said Ralph, " and did well to do so ;
though I must say, at the same time, that if I had a daughter,
and my freedom, pleasure, nay, my very health and life, de-
pended on her taking a husband whom I pointed out, I should
hope it would not be necessary to advance any other argu-
ments to induce her to consent to my wishes."
Bray looked at Ralph, as if to see whether he spoke in
earnest, and having nodded twice or thrice in unqualified as-
sent to what had fallen from him, said :
" I must go up stairs, for a few minutes, to finish dressing.
When I come down, I'll bring Madeline with me. Do you
know I had a very strange dream last night, which I have not
remembered till this instant t I dreamt that it was this
morning, and you and I had been talking, as we have been
this minute ; that I went up stairs, for the very purpose for
which I am going now ; and that as I stretched out my hand
to take Madeline's, and lead her down, the fioor sank with
me, and after falling from such an indescribable and tremen-
dous height as the imagination scarcely conceives except in
dreams, I alighted in a grave."
" And you awoke, and found you were lying on your back,
or with your head hanging over the bedside, or suffering some
pain from indigestion t " said Ralph. " Pshaw, Mr. Bray !
Do as I do (you will have the opportunity, now that a constant
round of pleasure and enjoyment opens upon you), and, oc-
cupying yourself a little more by day, have no time to think of
what you dream by night."
Ralph followed him, with a steady look, to the door ; turn-
ing to the bridegroom, when they were again alone, he said,
"Mark my words. Gride, you won't have to pay /^^.v annuity
very long. You have the devil's luck in bargains, always. If
he is not booked to make the long voyage before many
months are past and gone, I wear an orange for a head ! "
To this prophecy, so agreeable to his ears, Arthur returned
no answer than a cackle of great delight. Ralph, thcowing
himself into a chair, they both sat waiting in profound silence.
Ralph was thinking, with a sneer upon his lips on the altered
manner of Bray that day, and how soon their fellowship in a
bad design had lowered his pride and established a familiarity
between them, when his attentive car caught the rustling of a
female dress upon the stairs, and the footstep of a man.
7o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Wake up ! " he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon
the ground, " and be something Uke hfe, man, will you ? They
are here. Urge those dry old bones of yours this way. Quick,
man, quick 1 "
Gride shambled forward, and stood, leering and bowing,
close by Ralph's side, when the door opened and there entered
in haste — not Bray and his daughter, but Nicholas and his
sister Kate.
If some tremendous apparition from the world of shadows
had suddenly presented itself before him, Ralph Nickleby
could not have been more thunder-stricken than he was by this
surprise. His hands fell powerless by his side, he reeled
back ; and with open mouth, and a face of ashy paleness, stood
gazing at them in speechless rage. His eyes were so promi-
nent, and his face was so convulsed and changed by the pas-
sions which raged within him, that it would have been difhcult
to recognize in him the same stern, composed, hard featured
man he had been not a minute ago.
" The man that came to me last night ! " whispered Gride,
plucking at his elbow. "The man that came to me last
night 1 "
" I see," muttered Ralph, *' I know ! I might have guessed
as much before. Across my every path, at every turn, go
where I will, do what I may, he comes ! "
The absence of all color from the face ; the dilated nostril ;
the quivering of the lips which, though set firmly against each
other, would not be still ; showed what emotions were strug-
gling for the mastery with Nicholas. But he kept them down,
and gently pressing Kate's arm to reassure her, stood erect
and undaunted, front to front with his unworthy relative.
As the brother and sister stood side by side, with a gallant
bearing which became them well, a close likeness between
them was apparent, which many, had they only seen them
apart, might have failed to remark. The air, carriage, and
very look and expression of the brother were all reflected in
the sister, but softened and refined to the nicest limit of femi-
nine delicacy and attraction. More striking still, was some
indefinable resemblance in the face of Ralph, to both. While
they had never looked more handsome, nor he more ugly ;
while they had never held themselves more proudly, nor he
shrunk half so low ; there never had been a time when this
resemblance was so perceptible, or when all the worst char-
acteristics of a face rendered coarse and harsh by evil thoughts
were half so manifest as now.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 709
" Away ! " was the first word he could utter as he literally
gnashed his teeth.^ " Away ! What brings you here ? Liar,
scoundrel, dastard, thief ! "
" 1 come here," said Nicholas in a low deep voice, " to
save your victim if I can. Liar and scoundrel you are, in
every action of your life ; theft is your trade ; and double
dastard you must be, or you were not here to-day. Hard
words will not move me, nor would hard blows. Here I
stand, and will, till I have done my errand."
" Girl ! " said Ralph, " Retire ! We can use force to him,
but I would not hurt you if I could help it. Retire, you weak
and silly wench, and leave this dog to be dealt with as he
deserves."
" I will not retire," cried Kate, with flashing eyes and the
red blood mantling in her cheeks. " You will do him no hurt
that he will not repay. You may use force with me ; I think
you will, for I am a girl, and that would well become you.
But if I have a girl's weakness, I have a woman's heart, and
it is not you who in a cause like this can turn that from its
purpose."
" And what may your purpose be, most lofty lady? " said
Ralph.
" To offer to the unhappy subject of your treachery, at
this last moment," replied Nicholas, " a refuge and a home.
If the near prospect of such a husband as you have provided,
will not prevail upon her, I hope she may be moved by the
prayers and entreaties of one of her own sex. At all events
they shall be tried. I myself, avowing to her father from
whom I come and by whom I am commissioned, will render
it an act of greater baseness, meanness, and cruelty in him if
he still dares to force this marriage on. Here I wait to see
him and his daughter. For this I came and brought my
sister even into your presence. Our purpose is not to see
or speak with you ; therefore to you, we stoop to say no
more."
" Indeed ! " said Ralph. " You persist in remaining here,
ma'am, do you ? "
His niece's bosom heaved with the indignant excitement
into which he had lashed her, but she gave him no reply.
"Now, Gride, see here," said Ralph. "This fellow (I
grieve to say, my brother's son : a reprobate and profligate,
stained with every mean and selfish crime), this fellow, com-
ing here to-day to disturb a solemn ceremony, and knowing
7 I o NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
that the consequence of his presenting himself in another
man's house at such a time, and persisting in remaining there,
must be his being kicked into the streets and dragged through
them Uke the vagabond he is — this fellow, mark you, brings
with him his sister as a protection, thinking we would not
expose a silly girl to the degradation and indignity which is
no novelty to him. And, even after I have warned her of
what must ensue, he still keeps her by him, as you see, and
clings to her apron-strings like a cowardly boy to his mother's.
Is this a pretty fellow to talk as big as you have heard him
now."
"And as I heard him last night," said Arthur Gride ; "as
I heard him last night when he sneaked into my house, and —
he ! he ! he ! — very soon sneaked out again, when I nearly
frightened him to death. And /le wanting to marry Miss
Madeline too ! Oh, dear ! Is there anything else he'd like ?
Anything else we can do for him, besides giving her up .-'
Would he like his debts paid and his house furnished, and a
few bank notes for shaving paper — if he shaves at all ! He !
he ! he ! "
" You will remain, girl, will you .'' " said Ralph, turning
upon Kate again, " to be hauled down stairs like a drunken
drab, as I swear you shall if you stop here ? No answer !
Thank your brother for what follows. Gride, call down Bray
— and not his daughter. Let them keep her, above."
"If you value your head," said Nicholas, taking up a
position before the door, and speaking in the same low voice
in which he had spoken before, and with no more outward
passion than he had before displayed ; " stay wheie you are ! "
" Mind me, and not him, and call down Bray," said
Ralph.
" Mind yourself rather than either of us, and stay where
you are ! " said Nicholas.
" Will you call down Bray ? " cried Ralph.
" Remember that you come near me at your peril," said
Nicholas.
Gride hesitated. Ralph, being by this time as furious as
a baffled tiger, made for the door, and, attempting to pass
Kate, clasped her arm roughly with his hand. Nicholas, with
his eyes darting fire, seized him by the collar. At that mo-
ment a heavy body fell with great violence on the floor above,
and, in an instant afterwards, was heard a most appalling and
terrific scream.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 711
They all stood still, and gazed upon each other. Scream
succeeded scream ; a heavy pattering of feet succeeded \ many
shrill voices clamoring together were heard to cr}-, " He is
dead ! "
" Stand off ! " cried Nicholas, letting loose all the pas-
sion he had restrained till now, " if this is what I scarcely dare
to hope it is, you are caught, villains, in your own toils."
He burst from the room, and, darting up stairs to the
quarter whence the noise proceeded, forced his way through
a crowd of persons who quite filled a small bed-chamber ; and
found Bray lying on the floor quite dead ; his daughter cling-
ing to the body.
" How did this happen ? " he cried, looking wildly about
him.
Several voices answered together, that he had been ob-
served, through the half-opened door, reclining in a strange
and uneasy position upon a chair ; that he had been spoken
to, several times, and not answering, was supposed to be
asleep ; until some person going in and shaking him by the
arm, he fell heavily to the ground and was discovered to be
dead.
" Who is the owner of this house ? " said Nicholas,
hastily.
An elderly woman was pointed out to him ; and to her he
said, as he knelt down and gently unwound Madeline's arms
from the lifeless mass round which they were entwined : " I
represent this lady's nearest friends, as her servant here
knows, and must remove her from this dreadful scene. This
is my sister to whose charge you confide her. My name and
address are upon that card, and you shall receive from me all
necessar)' directions for the arrangements that must be made.
Stand aside, every one of vou, and give room and air for God's
sake ! "
The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had
just occurred, than at the excitement and impetuosit)' of him
who spoke. Nicholas, taking the insensible girl in his arms,
bore her from the chamber and down stairs into the room he
had just quitted, followed by his sister and the faithful servant,
whom he charged to procure a coach directly while he and
and Kate bent over their beautiful charge and endeavored,
but in vain, to restore her to animation. The girl performed
her office with such expedition, that in a very few minutes the
coach was ready.
y 1 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralyzed by the
awful event which had so suddenly overthrown their schemes
(it would not otherwise, perhaps, have made much impression
on them), and carried away by the extraordinary energy and
precipitation of Nicholas, which bore down all before him,
looked on at these proceedings like men in a dream or trance.
It was not until every preparation was made for Madeline's
immediate removal that Ralph broke silence by declaring she
should not be taken away.
" Who says so ? " cried Nicholas, rising from his knee and
confronting them, but still retaining Madeline's lifeless hand
in his.
" I ! " answered Ralph, hoarsely.
" Hush, hush ! " cried the terrified Gride, catching him
by the arm again. " Hear what he says."
" Ay ! " said Nicholas, extending his disengaged hand in
the air, " hear what he says. That both your debts are paid
in the one great debt of nature. That the bond, due to-day
at twelve, is now waste paper. That your contemplated fraud
shall be discovered yet. That your schemes are known to
man, and overthrown by Heaven. Wretches, that he defies
you both to do your worst ! "
"This man," said Ralph, in a voice scarcely intelligible,
" this man claims his wife, and he shall have her."
" That man claims what is not his, and he should not have
her if he were fifty men, with fifty more to back him," said
Nicholas.
" Who shall prevent him ? "
" I will."
" By what right I should like to know," said Ralph. " By
what right I ask ? "
" By this right. That, knowing what I do, you dare not
tempt me further," said Nicholas, " and by this better right ;
that those I serve, and with whom you would have done me
base wrong and injury, are her nearest and her dearest friends.
In their name I bear her hence. Give way ! "
" One word ! " cried Ralph, foaming at the mouth.
" Not one," replied Nicholas, " I will not hear of one —
save this. Look to yourself, and heed this warning that I
give you ! Day is past in your case, and night is coming on."
" My curse, my bitter, deadly curse upon you, boy ! "
" Whence will curses come at your command ? Or what
avails a curse or blessing from a man like you ? I tell you,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 713
that misfortune and discovery are thickening about your head ;
that the structures you have raised, through all your ill-spent
life, are crumbling into dust ; that your path is beset with
spies ; that this very day, ten thousand pounds of your hoard-
ed wealth have gone in one great crash ! "
" 'Tis false ! " cried Ralph, shrinking back.
" 'Tis true, and you shall find it so. I have no more
words to waste. Stand from the door. Kate, do you go first.
Lay not a hand on her, or on that woman, or on me, or so
much as brush their garments as they pass you by ! — You let
them pass and he blocks the door again ! "
Arthur Gride happened to be in the doorway, but whether
intentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent. Nich-
olas swung him away, with such violence as to cause him to
spin round the room until he was caught by a sharp angle of
the wall and there knocked down ; and then taking his beau-
tiful burden in his arms rushed out. No one cared to stop
him, if any were so disposed. Making his way through a mob
of people, whom a report of the circumstances had attracted
round the house, and carrying Madeline, in his excitement,
as easily as if she were an infant, he reached the coach in
which Kate and the girl were already waiting, and, confiding
his charge to them, jumped up beside the coachman and bade
him drive away.
CHAPTER LV.
OF FAMILY MATTERS, CARES, HOPES, DISAPPOINTMENTS. AND
SORROWS.
Although Mrs. Nickleby had been made acquainted by
her son and daughter with every circumstance of Madeline
Bray's history which was known to them ; although the respon-
sible situation in which Nicholas stood had been carefully
explained to her, and she had been prepared, even for the
possible contingency of having to receive the young lady in
her own house, improbable as such a result had appeared only
a few minutes before it came about ; still, Mrs. Nicklebv, from
the moment when this confidence was first reposed in her,
714 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
late on the previous evening, had remained in an unsatisfac-
tory and profoundly mystified state, from which no explana-
tions or arguments could relieve her, and which every fresh
soliloquy and reflection only aggravated more and more.
"Bless my heart, Kate;" so the good lady argued ; "if
the Mr. Cheerybles don't want this young lady to be married,
why don't they file a bill against the Lord Chancellor, make
her a chancery ward, and shut her up in the Fleet prison for
safety ? — I have read of such things in the newspapers a hun-
dred times. Or, if they are so very fond of her as Nicholas
says they are, why don't they marry her themselves — one of
them I mean ? And even supposing they don't want her to
be married, and don't want to marry her themselves, why in
the name of wonder should Nicholas go about the world, for-
bidding people's banns ? "
" I don't think you quite understand," said Kate, gently.
" Well I am sure, Kate, my dear, you're very polite ! "
replied Mrs. Nickleby. " I have been married myself I hope,
and I have seen other people married. Not understand,
indeed ! "
" I know you have had great experience, dear mama," said
Kate ; " I mean that perhaps you don't quite understand all
the circumstances in this instance. We have stated them
awkwardly, I dare say."
" That I dare say you have," retorted her mother, briskly.
" That's very likely. I am not to be held accountable for
that ; though, at the same time, as the circumstances speak
for themselves, I shall take the liberty, my love, of saying
that I do understand them, and perfectly well too ; whatever
you and Nicholas may choose to think to the contrary. Why
is such a great fuss made because this Miss Magdalen is
going to marry somebody who is older than herself ? Your
poor papa was older than I was, four years and a half older.
Jane Dibabs — the Dibabses lived in the beautiful little thatch-
ed white house one story high, covered all over with ivy and
creeping plants, with an exquisite little porch with twining
honeysuckles and all sorts of things : where the earwigs used
to fall into one's tea on a summer evening, and always fell
upon their backs and kicked dreadfully, and where the frogs
used to get into the rushlight shades when one stopped all
night, and sit up and look through the little holes* like Chris-
tians— Jane Dibabs, she married a man who was a great deal
older than herself, and would marry him, notwithstanding all
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
715
that could be said to the contrary, and she was so fond of him
that nothing was ever equal to it. Tliere was no fuss made
about Jane Dibabs, and her husband was a most honorable
and excellent man, and everybody spoke well of him. Then
why should there be any fuss about this Magdalen ? "
" Her husband is much older ; he is not her own choice ;
his character is the very reverse of that which you have just
described. Don't you see a broad distinction between the two
cases .'' " said Kate.
To this, Mrs. Nickleby only replied that she durst say she
was very stupid, indeed she had no doubt she was, for her own
children almost as much as told her so, every day of her life ;
to be sure she was a little older than they, and perhaps some
foolish people might think she ought reasonably to know best.
However, no doubt she was wrong ; of course she was, she al-
ways was, she couldn't be right, she couldn't be expected to be ;
so she had better not expose herself any more ; and to all
Kate's conciliations and concessions for an hour ensuing, the
good lady gave no other replies than Oh, certainly, why did
they ask het\ her opinion was of no consequence, it didn't mat-
ter what she said ; with many other rejoinders of the same class.
In this frame of mind (expressed when she had become
too resigned for speech, by nods of the head, upliftings of the
eyes, and little beginnings of groans, converted as they at-
tracted attention into short coughs), Mrs. Nickleby remained
until Nicholas and Kate returned with the object of their soli-
citude ; when, having by this time asserted her own import-
ance, and becoming besides interested in the trials of one so
young and beautiful, she not only displayed the utmost zeal
and solicitude, but took great credit to herself for recom-
mending the course of procedure which her son had adopted ;
frequently declaring, with an expressive look, that it was very
fortunate things were as they were : and hinting, that but for
great encouragement and wisdom on her own part, they never
could have been brought to that pass.
Not to strain the question whether Mrs. Nickleby had or
had not any great hand in bringing matters about, it is un-
questionable that she had strong ground for exultation. The
brothers, on their return, bestowed such commendations on
Nicholas for the part he had taken, and evinced so much joy
at the altered state of events and the recovery of their young
friend from trials so great and dangers so threatening, that,
as she more than once informed her daughter, she now con-
7i6
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
sidered the fortunes of the family " as good as made." Mr.
Charles Cheeryble, indeed, Mrs. Nickleby positively asserted,
had, in the first transports of his surprise and delight " as
good as " said so. Without precisely explaining what this
qualification meant, she subsided, whenever she mentioned
the subject, into such a mysterious and important state, and
had such visions of wealth and dignity in perspective, that
(vague and clouded though they were) she was, at such times,
almost as happy as if she had really been permanently pro-
vided for, on a scale of great splendor.
The sudden and terrible shock she had received, combined
with the great affliction and anxiety of mind which she had
for a long time endured, proved too much for Madeline's
strength. Recovering from the state of stupefaction into
which the sudden death of her father happily plunged her,
she only exchanged that condition for one of dangerous and
active illness. When the delicate physical powers which had
been sustained by an unnatural strain upon the mental ener-
gies and a resolute determination not to yield, at last give
way, their degree of prostration is usually proportionate to the
strength of the effort which has previously upheld them. Thus
it was that the illness which fell on Madeline was of no slight
or temporary nature, but one which, for a time, threatened
her reason, and — scarcely worse — her life itself.
Who, slowly recovering from a disorder so severe and dan-
gerous, could be insensible to the unremitting attentions of
such a nurse as gentle, tender, earnest Kate ? On whom could
the sweet soft voice, the light step, the delicate hand, the
quiet cheerful noiseless discharge of those thousand little of-
fices of kindness and relief which we feel so deeply when we
are ill, and forget so lightly when we are well — on whom could
they make so deep an impression as on a young heart stored
with every pure and true affection that women cherish ; almost
a stranger to the endearments and devotion of its own sex,
save as it learnt them from itself ; rendered, by calamity and
suffering, keenly susceptible of the sympathy so long unknown
and so long sought in vain ! What wonder that days became
as years in knitting them together ! What wonder, if with
every hour of; returning health, there came some stronger and
sweeter recognition of the praises which Kate, when they re-
called old scenes — they seemed old now, and to have been
acted years ago — would lavish on her brother ! Where would
have been the wonder, even, if those praises had found a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 717
quick response in the breast of Madeline, and if, with the
image of Nicholas so constantly recurring in the features of
his sister that she could scarcely separate the two, she had
sometimes found it equally difficult to assign to each the feel-
ings they had first inspired, and had imperceptibly mingled
with her gratitude to Nicholas, some of that warmer feeling
which she had assigned to Kate !
" My dear," Mrs. Nickleby would say, coming into the
room with an elaborate caution, calculated to discompose the
nerves of an invalid rather more than the entry of a horse-
soldier at full gallop ; " how do you find yourself to-night ?
I hope you are better ? "
" Almost well, mama," Kate would reply, laying down her
work, and taking Madeline's hand in hers.
"Kate!" Mrs. Nickleby would say, reprovingly, "don't
talk so loud " (the worthy lady herself talking in a whisper
that would have made the blood of the stoutest man run cold
in his veins).
Kate would take this reproof very quietly, and Mrs. Nickle-
by, making every board creak and every thread rustle as she
moved stealthily about, would add :
" My son Nicholas has just come home, and I have come,
according to custom, my dear, to know, from your own lips,
exactly how you are ; for he won't take my account, and never
will."
"He is later than usual to-night," perhaps Madeline would
reply. " Nearly half an hour."
" Well, I never saw such people in all my life as you are,
for time, up here ! " Mrs. Nickleby would exclaim in great as-
tonishment ; " I declare I never did ! I had not the least idea
that Nicholas was after his time, not the smallest. Mr. Nickle-
by used to say — your poor papa, I am speaking of, Kate my dear
— used to say, that appetite was the best clock in the world,
but you have no appetite, my dear Miss Bray, I wish you had,
and upon my word 1 really think you ought to take something
that would give you one. I am sure I don't know, but I ha\'e
heard that two or three dozen native lobsters give an appetite,
though that comes to the same thing after all, for I suppose
you must have an appetite before you can take 'em. If I said
lobsters, I meant oysters, it's all the same. Though really
how you came to know about Nicholas "
" We happened to be just talking about him, mama ; that
was it."
7i8
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
*' You never seem to me, to be talking about anything else,
Kate, and upon my word I am quite surprised at your being
so very thoughtless. You can find subjects enough to talk
about, sometimes, and when you know how important it is to
keep up Miss Bray's spirits, and interest her, and all that, it
really is quite extraordinary to me what can induce you to
keep on prose, prose, prose, din, din, din, everlastingly, upon
the same theme. You are a very kind nurse, Kate, and a very
good one, and I know you mean very well ; but I will say this
— that if it wasn't for me, I really don't know what would be-
come of Miss Bray's spirits, and so I tell the doctor every
day. He says he wonders how I sustain my own, and I am
sure I very often wonder myself how I can contrive to keep
up as I do. Of course it's an exertion, but still, when I know
how much depends upon me in this house, I am obliged to
make it. There's nothing praiseworthy in that, but it's neces-
sary, and I do it."
With that, Mrs. Nickleby would draw up a chair, and for
some three quarters of an hour, run through a great variety of
distracting topics in the most distracting manner possible :
tearing herself away, at length, on the plea that she must now
go and amuse Nicholas while he took his supper. After a
preliminary raising of his spirits with the information that she
considered the patient decidedly worse, she would further
cheer him up, by relating how dull, listless, and low-spirited
Miss Bray was, because Kate foolishly talked about nothing
else but him and family matters. When she had made Nich-
olas thoroughly comfortable with these and other inspiriting
remarks, she would discourse at length, on the arduous duties
she had performed that day ; and, sometimes, would be moved
to tears in wondering how, if anything were to happen to her-
self, the family would ever get on without her.
At other times, when Nicholas came home at night he
would be accompanied by Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who was com-
missioned by the brothers to inquire how Madeline was, that
evening. On such occasions (and they were of very frequent
occurrence), Mrs. Nickleby deemed it of particular importance
that she should have her wits about her ; for, from certain
signs and tokens which had attracted her attention, she shrewdly
suspected that Mr. Frank, interested as his uncles were in
Madeline, came quite as much to see Kate as to inquire after
her ; the more especially as the brothers were in constant com-
munication with the medical man, came backwards and for-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 719
wards very frequently themselves, and received a full report
from Nicholas every morning. These were proud times for
Mrs. Nickleby ; never was anybody half so discreet and sage
as she, or half so mysterious withal \ and never were there
such cunning generalship, and such unfathomable designs, as
she brought to bear upon Mr. Frank, with the view of ascer-
taining whether her suspicions were well founded : and if so,
of tantalizing him into taking her into his confidence and
throwing himself upon her merciful consideration. Extensive
was the artillery, heavy and light, which Mrs. Nickleby brought
into play for the furtherance of these great schemes : various
and opposite were the means she employed to bring about the
end she had in view. At one time, she was all cordiality and
ease ; at another, all stiffness and frigidity. Now, she would
seem to open her whole heart to her unhappy victim ; the next
time they met, she would receive him with the most distant
and studious reserve, as if a new light had broken in upon
her, and, guessing his intentions, she had resolved to check
them in the bud ; as if she felt it her bounden duty to act with
Spartan firmness, and at once and for ever to discourage
hopes which never could be realized. At other times, when
Nicholas was not there to overhear, and Kate was up stairs
busily tending her sick friend, the worthy lady would throw
out darl: hints of an intention to send her daughter to France
for three or four years, or to Scotland for the improvement of
her health impaired by her late fatigues, or to America on a
visit, or anywhere that threatened a long and tedious separa-
tion. Nay, she even went so far as to hint, obscurely, at an
attachment entertained for her daughter by the son of an old
neighbor of theirs, one Horatio Peltirogus (a young gentleman
who might have been, at that time, four years old, or there-
abouts), and to represent it, indeed, as almost a settled thing
between the families — only waiting for her daughter's final de-
cision to come off with the sanction of the church, and to the
unspeakable happiness and content of all parties.
It was in the full pride and glor\' of having sprung this
last mine one night, with extraordinary success, that Mrs.
Nickleby took the opportunity of being left alone Avith her
son before retiring to rest, to sound him on the subject which
so occupied her thoughts : not doubting that they could have
but one opinion respecting it. To this end, she approached
the question with divers laudatory and appropriate re-
marks touching the general amiability of Mr. Frank Cheeryble.
y 2 o NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
" You are quite right, mother," said Nicholas, " quite right.
He is a fine fellow."
" Good-looking, too," said Mrs. Nickleby.
" Decidedly good-looking," answered Nicholas.
" What may you call his nose, now, my dear ? " pursued
Mrs. Nickleby, wishing to interest Nicholas in the subject to
the utmost.
" Call it ? " repeated Nicholas.
" Ah ! " returned his mother, " what style of nose ? What
order of architecture, if one may say so. I am not very learned
in noses. Do you call it a Roman or a Grecian ? "
"Upon my word, mother," said Nicholas, laughing, "as
well as I remember, I should call it a kind of Composite, or
mixed nose. But I have no very strong recollection on the
subject. If it will afford you any gratification, I'll observe it
more closely, and let you know."
" I wish you would, mj^ar," said Mrs. Nickleby, with an
earnest look.
" Very well," returned Nicholas. " I will."
Nicholas returned to the perusal of the book he had been
reading, when the dialogue had gone thus far. Mrs. Nickleby,
after stopping a little fqr consideration, resumed.
" He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear."
Nicholas, laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he
was glad to hear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep
in their new friend's confidence already.
" Hem ! " said Mrs. Nickleby. " I don't know about that
my dear, but I think it is very necessary that somebody should
be in his confidence; highly necessary."
Elated by a look of curiosity from her son, and the con-
sciousness of possessing a great secret, all to herself, Mrs.
Nickleby went on with great animation :
" I am sure, my dear Nicholas, how you can have failed
to notice it, is, to me, quite extraordinary ; though I don't
know why I should say that, either, because of course, as far
as it goes, and to a certain extent, there is a great deal in this
sort of thing, especially in this early stage, which, however
clear it may be to females, can scarcely be expected to be so
evident to men. 1 don't say that I have any particular pene-
tration in such matters. I may have. Those about me should
know best about that, and perhaps do know. Upon that point,
I shall express no opinion, it wouldn't become me to do so,
it's quite out of the question, quite."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 721
Nicholas snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets,
and, leaning back in his chair, assumed a look of patient suf-
fering and melancholy resignation.
" I think it my duty, Nicholas, my dear," resumed his
mother, " to tell you what I know : not only because you have
a right to know it too, and to know everything that happens in
this family, but because you have it in your power to promote
and assist the thing very much ; and there is no doubt that
the sooner one can come to a clear understandina: on such
subjects. It IS always better, every way. There are a great
many things you might do ; such as taking a walk in the gar-
den sometimes, or sitting up stairs in your own room for a
little while, or making believe to fall asleep occasionally, or
pretending that you recollected some business, and going out
for an hour or so, and taking Mr. Smike with you. These
seem very slight things, and I dare say you will be amused
at my making them of so much importance ; at the same time,
my clear, I can assure you (and you'll find this out, Nicholas,
for yourself one of these days, if you ever fall in love with
anybody : as I trust and hope you will, provided she is respect-
able and well conducted, and of course you'd never dream of
falling in love with anybody who was not), I say, I can assure
you that a great deal more depends upon these little' things,
than you would suppose possible. If your poor papa was
alive, he would tell you how much depended on the parties
being left alone. Of course, you are not to go out of the room
as if you meant it and did it on purpose, but as if it was quite
an accident, and to come back again in the same way. If
you cough in the passage before you open the door, or whistle
carelessly, or hum a tune, or something of that sort to let
them know you're coming, its always better ; because, of course
though it's not only natural but perfectly correct and proper
under the circumstances, still it is very confusing if you inter-
rupt young people when they are — when they are sitting on
the sofa, and — and all that sort of thing : which is very non-
sensical perhaps, but still they will do it."
The profound astonishment with which her son regarded
her during this long address, gradually increasing as it ap-
proached its climax, in no way discomposed Mrs. Nickleby,
but rather exalted her opinion of her own cleverness ; there-
fore, merely stopping to remark with much complacency, that
she had fully expected him to be surprised, she entered on a
vast quantity of circumstantial evidence of a particularly in-
46
722
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
coherent and perplexing kind ; the upshot of which was, to
establish beyond the possibility of doubt, that Mr. Frank
Cheeryble had fallen desperately in love with Kate.
- " With whom ? " cried Nicholas.
Mrs. Nicklebv repeated, with Kate.
" What ! Our Kate ! My sister ! "
" Lord, Nicholas ! " returned Mrs. Nickleby, "whose Kate
should it be, if not ours; or what should I care about it, or
take any interest in it for, if it was anybody but your sister .'' "
" Dear mother," said Nicholas, " surely it can't be ! "
" Very good, my dear," replied Mrs. Nickleby, with great
confidence. "Wait and see."
Nicholas had never, until that moment, bestowed a thought
on the remote possibility of such an occurrence as that which
was now communicated to him ; for, besides that he had been
much from home of late and closely occupied with other mat-
ters, his own jealous fears had prompted the suspicion that some
secret interest in Madeline, akin to that which he felt himself,
occasioned those visits of Frank Cheeryble which had recently
become so frequent. Even now, although he knew that the
observation of an anxious mother was much more likely to be
correct in such a case than his own, and although she remind-
ed him of many little circumstances, which, taken together,
were certainly susceptible of the construction she triumphantly
put upon them, he was not quite convinced but that they
arose from mere good-natured thoughtless gallantry, which
would have dictated the same conduct towards any other girl
who was young and pleasing. At all events, he hoped so, and
therefore tried to believe it.
" I am very much disturbed by what you tell me," said
Nicholas, after a little reflection, " though I yet hope you may
be mistaken."
" I don't understand why you should hope so," said Mrs.
Nickleby, " I confess ; but you may depend upon it I am
not."
" What of Kate ? " inquired Nicholas.
"Why that, my dear," returned Mrs. Nickleby, " is just
the point upon which I am not yet satisfied. During this
sickness, she lias been constantly at Madeline's bedside — never
were two people so fond of each other as they have grown —
and to tell you the truth, Nicholas, I have rather kept her
away now and then, because I think it's a good plan, and
urges a young man on. He doesn't get too sure, you know."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 723
She said this with such a mingUng of high delight and self-
congratulation, that it was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas
to dash her hopes ; but he felt that there was only one honor-
able course before him, and that he was bound to take it.
" Dear mother," he said kindly, " don't you see that if
there were really any serious inclination on the part of Mr.
Frank towards Kate, and we suffered ourselves for a moment
to encourage it, we should be acting a most dishonorable and
ungrateful part ? I ask you if you don't see it, but I need not
say, that I know you don't, or you would have been more
strictly on your guard. Let me explain my meaning to you.
Remember how poor we are."
Mrs. Nickleby shook her head, and said, through her tears,
that poverty was not a crime.
" No," said Nicholas,' "and for that reason povert}' should
engender an honest pride, that it may not lead and tempt us
to unworthy actions, and that we may preserve the self-
respect which a hewer of wood and drawer of water may
maintain, and does better in maintaining than a monarch in
presen-ing his. Think what we owe to these two brothers ;
remember what they have done, and what they do every day
for us, with a generosity and delicacy for which the devotion
of our whole lives would be a most imperfect and indequate re-
turn. What kind of return would that be which would be
comprised in our permitting their nephew, their only relative,
whom they regard as a son, and for whom it would be mere
childishness to suppose they have not formed plans suitably
adapted to the education he has had, and the fortune he will
inherit — in our permitting him to marry a portionless girl, so
closely connected with us, that the irresistible inference must
be that he was entrapped by a plot, that it was a deliberate
scheme, and a speculation amongst us three. Bring the matter
clearly before yourself, mother. Now, how would you feel, if
they were married, and the brothers, coming here' on one of
those kind errands which bring them here so often, you had to
break out to them the truth 1 Would you be at ease, and feel
that you had played an open part ? "
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, cr^'ing more and more, murmured
that of course Mr. Frank would ask the consent of his uncles
first.
" Why, to be sure, that would place him in a better situa-
tion with them," said Nicholas, '-'but we should still be open
to the same suspicions ; the distance between us would still
724
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
be as great, the advantages to be gained would still be as
manifest as now. We may be reckoning without our host,
in all this," he added more cheerfully, " and I trust, and
almost believe we are. If it be otherwise, I have that con-
fidence in Kate that I know she will feel as I do — and in you,
dear mother, to be assured that after a little consideration
you will do the same."
After many more representations and entreaties, Nicholas
obtained a promise from Mrs. Nickleby that she would try all
she could, to think as he did ; and that if Mr. Frank perse-
vered in his attentions she would endeavor to discourage them,
or, at the least, would render him no countenance or assistance.
He determined to forbear mentioning the subject to Kate, until
he was quite convinced that there existed a real necessity for
his doing so ; and he resolved to assure himself, as well as he
could by close personal observation, of the exact position of
affairs. This was a very wise resolution, but he was pre-
vented from putting it in practice, by a new source of anxiety
and uneasiness.
Smike became alarmingly ill ; so reduced and exhausted
that he could scarcely move from room to room without as-
sistance ; so worn and emaciated, that it was painful to look
upon him. Nicholas was warned by the same medical au-
thority to whom he had at first appealed, that the last chance
and hope of his life depended on his being instantly removed
from London. That part of Devonshire in which Nicholas
had been himself bred, was named as the most favorable
spot ; but this advice was cautiously coupled with the infor-
mation that whoever accompanied him thither, must be pre-
pared for the worst ; for every token of rapid consumption
had appeared, and he might never return alive.
The kind brothers, who were acquainted with the poor
creature's sad histoiy, despatched old Tim to be present at
this consultation. That same morning, Nicholas was sum-
moned by brother Charles into his private room, and thus ad-
dressed :
" My dear sir, no time must be lost. This lad shall not
die, if such human means as we can use, can save his life ;
neither shall he die alone, and in a strange place. Remove
him to-morrow morning, see that he has every comfort that his
situation requires, and don't leave him ; don't leave him, my
dear sir, until you know that there is no longer any immediate
danger. It would be hard, indeed, to part you now. No, no,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 725
no ! Tim shall wait upon you to-night, sir ; Tim shall wait
upon you to-night with a parting word or two. Brother Ned,
my dear fellow, Mr. Nickleby waits to shake hands and say
good-by ; Mr. Nickleby won't be long gone ; this poor chap
will soon get better, very soon get better ; and then he'll find
out some nice homely country people to leave him with, and
will go backwards and forwards sometimes — backwards and
forwards you know, Ned. And there's no cause to be down-
hearted, for he'll very soon get better, very soon. Won't he^
won't he, Ned ? "
What Tim Linkinwater said, or what he brought with him
that night, needs not to be told. Next morning Nicholas and
his feeble companion began their journey.
And who but one — and that one he who, but for those who
crowded round him then, had never met a look of kindness,
or known a word of pity — could tell what agony of mind, what
blighted thoughts, what unavailing sorrow, were involved in
that sad parting !
" See," cried Nicholas eagerly, as he looked from the
coach window, " they are at the corner of the lane still ! And
now there's Kate, poor Kate whom you said you couldn't
bear to say good-by to, waving her handkerchief. Don't go,
without one gesture of farewell to Kate ! "
" I cannot make it ! " cried his trembling companion, fall-
ing back m his seat and covering his eyes. " Do you see
her now ? Is she there still.? "
" Yes, yes ! " said Nicholas earnestly. " There ! She
waves her hand again ! I have answered it for you — and now
they are out of sight. Do not give way so bitterly, dear
friend, don't. You will meet them all again."
He whom he thus encouraged, raised his withered hands
and clasped them fervently together.
" In heaven. I humbly pray to God, in heaven ! "
It sounded like the prayer of a broken heart.
726
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER LVI.
RALPH NICKLEBY, BAFFLED BY HIS NEPHEW IN HIS LATE
DESIGN, HATCHES A SCHEME OF RETALIATION WHICH
ACCIDENT SUGGESTS TO HIM, AND TAKES INTO HIS COUN-
SELS A TRIED AUXILIARY.
The course which these adventures shape out for them-
selves, and imperatively call upon the historian to observe,
now demands that they should revert to the point they attained
previous to the commencement of the last chapter, when
Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride were left together in the
house where death had so suddenly reared his dark and heavy
banner.
With clenched hands, and teeth ground together so firm
and tight that no locking of the jaws could have fixed and
riveted them more securely, Ralph stood, for some minutes,
in the attitude in which he had last addressed his nephew;
breathing heavily, but as rigid and motionless in other respects
as if he had been a brazen statue. After a time, he began
by slow degrees, as a man rousing himself from heavy slumber,
to relax. For a moment he shook his clasped fist towards the
door by which Nicholas had disappeared ; and then thrusting
it into his breast, as if to repress by force even this show of
passion, turned round and confronted the less hardy usurer,
who had not yet risen from the ground.
The cowering wretch, who still shook in every limb, and
whose few gray hairs trembled and quivered on his head with
abject dismay, tottered to his feet as he met Ralph's eye, and,
shielding his face with both hands, protested, while lie crept
towards the door, that it was no fault of his.
*' Who said it was, man ? " returned Ralph, in a suppressed
voice. " Who said it was ? "
"You looked as if you thought I was to blame," said
Gride, timidly.
" Pshaw ! " Ralph muttered, forcing a laugh. " I blame
him for not living an hour longer. One hour longer would
have been enough. I blame no one else."
" N — n — no one else } " said Gride.
"Not for this mischance," replied Ralph. "I have an
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
727
old score to clear with that young fellow who has carried off
your mistress ; but that has nothing to do with his blustering
just now, for we should soon have been quit of him, but for
this cursed accident."
There was something so unnatural in the calmness with
which Ralph Nickleby spoke, when coupled with his face ;
there was something so unnatural and ghastly, in the contrast
between his harsh slow steady voice (only altered by a certain
halting of the breath" which made him pause between almost
every word, like a drunken man bent upon speaking plainly),
and his face's evidence of intense and violent passion, and the
struggle he made to keep it under ; that if the dead body
which lay above, had stood, instead of him, before the cower-
ing Gride, it could scarcely have presented a spectacle which
would have terrified him more.
" The coach," said Ralph after a time, during which he
had struggled like some strong man against a fit. " We came
in a coach. Is it waiting ? "
Gride gladly availed himself of the pretext for going to
the window to see. Ralph, keeping his face steadily the
other way, tore at his shirt with the hand he had thrust into
his breast, and muttered in a hoarse whisper :
" Ten thousand pounds ! He said ten thousand ! The
precise sum paid in but yesterday for the two mortgages, and
which would have gone out again, at heavy interest, to-
morrow. If that house has failed, and he the first to bring
the news ! — Is the coach there .'' "
" Yes, yes," said Gride, startled by the fierce tone of the
inquiry. " It's here. Dear, dear, what a fiery man you are ! "
" Come here," said Ralph, beckoning to him. " We
mustn't make a show of being disturbed. We'll go down arm
in arm."
" But you pinch me black and blue," urged Gride.
Ralph let him go, impatiently, and descending the stairs
with his usual firm and heavy tread, got into the coach. Ar-
thur Gride followed. After looking doubtfully at Ralph when
the man asked where he was to drive, and finding that he
remained silent and expressed no wish upon the subject,
Arthur mentioned his own house, and thither they proceeded.
On their way, Ralph sat in the furthest corner with folded
arms, and uttered not a word. With his chin sunk on his
breast, and his downcast eyes quite hidden by the contraction
of his knotted brows, he might have been asleep, for any sign
f
728 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
of consciousness he gave, until the coach stopped ; when he
raised his head, and, glancing through the window, inquired
what place that was ?
" My house," answered the disconsolate Gride, affected
perhaps by its loneliness. " Oh dear ! My house."
" True," said Ralph. " I have not observed the way we
came. I should like a glass of water. You have that in the
house, I suppose ? "
" You shall have a glass of — of anything you like,"
answered Gride, with a groan. " It's no use knocking, coach-
man. Ring the bell ! "
The man rang, and rang, and rang again ; then, knocked
until the street re-echoed with the sounds ; then, listened at
the keyhole of the door. Nobody came. The house was
silent as the grave.
" How's this 1 " said Ralph, impatiently.
"Peg is so very deaf," answered Gride with a look of
anxiety and alarm. '• Oh dear ! Ring again, coachman. She
sees the bell."
Again the man rang and knocked, and knocked and rang.
Some of the neighbors threw up their windows, and called
across the street to each other that old Gride's housekeeper
must have dropped down dead. Others collected round the
coach, and gave vent to various surmises ; some, held that
she had fallen asleep ; some, that she had burnt herself to
death ; some, that she had got drunk ; one very fat man, that
she had seen something to eat which had frightened her so
much (not being used to it) that she had fallen into a fit.
This last suggestion particularly delighted the bystanders,
who cheered it uproariously, and were with some difficulty
deterred from dropping down the area and breaking open the
kitchen door to ascertain the fact. Nor was this all. Rumors
having gone abroad, that Arthur was to be married that
morning, very particular inquiries were made after the bride,
who was held by the majority to be disguised in the person of
Mr. Ralph Nickleby, which gave rise to much jocose indig-
nation at the public appearance of a bride in boots and pan-
taloons, and called forth a great many hoots and groans. At
length, the two money-lenders obtained shelter in a house
next door, and, being accommodated with a ladder, clambered
over the wall of the back yard — which was not a high one — •
and descended in safety on the other side.
" I am almost afraid to go in, I declare," said Arthur,
•NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 729
turning to Ralph when they were alone. " Suppose she
should be murdered. Lying with her brains knocked out by
a poker, eh ? "
" Suppose she were," said Ralph. " I tell you, I wish
such things were more common than they are, and more easily
done. You may stare and shiver. I do ? "
He applied himself to a pump in the yard, and, having
taken a deep draught of water and flung a quantity on his
head and face, regained his accustomed manner and led the
way into the house : Gride following close at his heels.
It was the same dark place as ever : every room dismal
and silent as it was wont to be, and every ghostly article of
furniture in its customary place. The iron heart of the grim
old clock, undisturbed by all the noise without, still beat
heavily within its dusty case ; the tottering presses slunk from
the sight, as usual, in their melancholy corners ; the echoes
of footsteps returned the same dreary sound ; the long-legged
spider paused in his nimble run, and, scared by the sight of
men in that his dull domain, hung motionless on the wall,
counterfeiting death until they should have passed him by.
From cellar to garret went the two usurers, opening every
creaking door and looking into every deserted room. But no
Peg was there. At last, they sat them down in the apart-
ment which Arthur Gride usually inhabited, to rest after their
search.
" The hag is out, on some preparation for your wedding
festivities, I suppose," said Ralph, preparing to depart. " See
here ! I destroy the bond ; we shall never need it now."
Gride, who had been peering narrowly about the room,
fell, at that moment, upon his knees before a large chest, and
uttered a terrible yell.
" How now ? " said Ralph, looking sternly round.
" Robbed ! Robbed ! " screamed Arthur Gride.
" Robbed ! Of money ? "
" No, no, no. Worse ! far worse ! "
" Of what .? " demanded Ralph.
" Worse than money, worse than money ! " cried the old
man, casting the papers out of the chest, like some beast tear-
ing up the earth. " She had better have stolen money — all
my money — I haven't much ! She had better have made me a
beggar, than have done this ! "
" Done what ? " said Ralph. " Done what, you devil's
dotard ? "
73°
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY..
Still Gride made no answer, but tore and scratched among
the papers, and yelled and screeched like a fiend in torment.
" There is something missing, you say," said Ralph,
shaking him furiously by the collar. " What is it ? "
" Papers, deeds. I am a ruined man. Lost, lost ! I am
robbed, I am ruined ! She saw me reading it — reading it of
late — I did very often — She watched me, saw me put it in the
box that fitted into this, the -box is gone, she has stolen it.
Damnation seize her, she has robbed me ! "
"Of what P'' cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light ap-
peared to break, for his eyes flashed and his frame trembled
with agitation as he clutched Gride by his bony arm. " Of
what } "
" She don't know what it is ; she can't read ! " shrieked
Gride, not heeding the inquiry. " There's only one way in
which money can be made of it, and that is by taking it to her.
Somebody will read it for lier and tell her what to do. She
and her accomplice will get money for it and be let off be-
sides ; they'll make a merit of it — say they found it — knew it
— and be evidence against me. The only person it will fall
upon, is me, me, me ! "
" Patience ! ',' said Ralph, clutching him still tighter and
eyeing him with a sidelong look, so fixed and eager as suffi-
ciently to denote that he had some hidden purpose in what he
was about to say. " Hear reason. She can't have been gone
long. I'll call the police. Do you but give information of
what she has stolen, and they'll lay hands upon her, trust me.
Here! Help!"
" No, no, no," screamed the old man, putting his hand on
Ralph's mouth. "I can't, I daren't."
" Help ! help ! " cried Ralph.
"No, no, no," shrieked the other, stamping on the ground
with the energy of a madman. " I tell you no. I daren't,
I daren't ! "
" Daren't make this robbery public 1 " said Ralph.
" No ! " rejoined Gride, wringing his hands. " Hush !
Hush ! Not a word of this ; not a word must be said. I am
undone. Whichever way I turn, I am undone. I am betray-
ed. I shall be given up. I shall die in Newgate ! "
With frantic exclamations such as these, and with many
others in which fear, grief, and rage, were strangely blended,
the panic-stricken wretch gradually subdued his first loud out-
cry, until it had softened down into a low despairing moan,
i
r"
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 731
chequered now and then by a howl, as, going over such papers
as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss. With
very little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him,
and, greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by
telling them there was nothing the matter, got into the coach
and was driven to his own home.
A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there, for some
time, as if he had not the courage to open it, but at length
did so and turned deadly pale.
" The worst has happened," he said, " the house has failed.
I see. The rumor was abroad in the City last night, and
reached the ears of those merchants. Well, well ! "
He strode violently up and down the room and stopped
again.
" Ten thousand pounds ! And only lying there for a day
— for one day ! How many anxious years, how many pinch-
ing days and sleepless nights, before I scraped together that
ten thousand pounds ! — Ten thousand pounds ! How many
proud painted dames would have fawned and smiled, and
how many spendthrift blockheads done me lip-service to my
face and cursed me in their hearts, while I turned that ten
thousand pounds into twenty ! While I ground, and pinched,
and used these needy borrowers for my pleasure and profit
what smooth-tongued speeches, and courteous looks, and civil
letters, they would have given m'e ! The cant of the lying
world is, that men like me compass our riches by dissimula-
tion and treachery : by fawning, cringing, and stooping. Why,
how many lies, what mean evasions, what humbled behavior
from upstarts who, but for my money, would spurn me aside
as they do their betters every day, would that ten thousand
pounds have brought me in ! Grant that I had doubled it —
made cent, per cent. — for every sovereign told another — there
would not be one piece of money in all the heap which
wouldn't represent ten thousand mean and paltry lies, told,
not by the money-lender, oh no ! but by the money-borrowers,
your liberal, thoughtless, generous, dashing folks, who wouldn't
be so mean as save a sixpence for the world ! "
Striving, as it would seem, to lose part of the bitterness
of his regrets, in the bitterness of these other thoughts,
Ralph continued to pace the room. There was less and less
of resolution in his manner as his mind gradually reverted
to his loss ; at length, dropping into his elbow-chair and grasp-
ing its sides so firmly that they creaked again, he said :
y^i ' NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" The time has been when nothing could have moved me
like the loss of this great sum. Nothing. For births, deaths,
marriages, and all the events which are of interest to most
men, have (unless they are connected with gain or loss of
money) no interest for me. But now, I swear, I mix up with
the loss, his triumph in telling it. If he had brought it about,
— I almost feel as if he had — I couldn't hate him more. Let
me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, however slow — let me
but begin to get the better of him, let me but turn the scale
— and I can bear it."
His meditations were long and deep. They terminated
in his despatching a letter by Newman, addressed to Mr.
Squeers at the Saracen's Head, with instructions to inquire
whether he had arrived in town, and, if so, to wait an answer.
Newman brought back the information that Mr. Squeers had
come by mail that morning, and had received the letter in
bed ; but that he sent his duty and word that he would get up
and wait upon Mr. Nickleby directly.
The interval between the delivery of this message, and
the arrival of Mr. Squeers, was very short ; but, before he
came, Ralph had suppressed every sign of emotion, and once
more regained the hard, immovable, inflexible manner which
was habitual to him, and to which, perhaps, was ascribable no
small part of the influence which, over many men of no very
strong prejudices on the score of morality, he could exert
almost at will.
" Well, Mr. Squeers," he said, welcoming that worthy with
his accustomed smile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful
frown were part and parcel : " how do you do ? "
" Why, sir," said Mr. Squeers, " I'm pretty well. So's the
family, and so's the boys, except for a sort of rash as is a
running through the school, and rather put 'em off their feed.
But it's a ill wind as blows no good to nobody ; that's what I
always say when them lads has a wisitation. A wisitation,
sir, is the lot of mortality. Mortality itself, sir, is a wisitation.
The world is chock full of wisitations ; and if a boy repines
at a wisitation and makes you uncomfortable with his noise,
he must have his head punched. That's going according to
the scripter, that is."
" Mr. Squeers," said Ralph, dryly.
" Sir."
" We'll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you
please, and talk of business."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 733
"With all my heart, sir," rejoined Squeers, " and first let
me say "
" First let me say, if you please. Noggs ! "
Newman presented himself when the summons had been
twice or thrice repeated and asked if his master called.
" I did. Go to your dinner. And go at once. Do you
hear ? "
" It an't time," said Newman, doggedly.
" My time is yours, and I say it is," returned Ralph.
" You alter it every day," said Newman. " It isn't fair."
" You don't keep many cooks, and can easily apologize to
them for the trouble," retorted Ralph. " Begone, sir ! "
Ralph not only issued this order in his most peremptory
manner, but, under pretence of fetching some papers from
the little office, saw it obeyed, and when Newman had left the
house, chained the door, to prevent the possibility of his re-
turning secretly, by means of his latch key.
" I have reason to suspect that fellow," said Ralph, when
he returned to his own office. "Therefore until I have
thought of the shortest and least troublesome way of ruining
him,°I hold it best to keep him at a distance."
" It wouldn't take much to ruin him, I should think," said
Squeers, with a grin.
" Perhaps not," answered Ralph. " Nor to ruin a great
many people whom I know. \ ou were going to say — — ? "
Ralph's summary and matter-of-course way of holding up
this example, and throwing out the hint that followed it, had
evidently an effect (as doubtless it was designed to have) upon
Mr. Squeers, who said, after a little hesitation and in a much
more subdued tone :
" Why, what I was a going to say, sir, is, that this here
business regarding of that ungrateful and hard-hearted chap,
Snawley senior, puts me out of my way, and occasions a in-
conveniency quite unparalleled ; besides, as I may say, making,
for whole weeks together, Mrs. Squeers a perfect widder. It's
a pleasure to me to act with you, of course."
"Of course," said Ralph, dryly.
"Yes, I said of course," resumed Mr. Squeers, rubbing his
knees ; " but at the same time, when one comes, as I do now,
better than two hundred and fifty miles to take a afferdavid,
it does put a man out a good deal, letting alone the risk."
"And where mav the risk be, Mr. Squeers? " said Ralph.
" I said, letting alone the risk," replied Squeers, evasively.
" And I said, where was the risk ? "
y 2 4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I wasn't complaining, you know, Mr. Nickleby," pleaded
Squeers. " Upon my word I never see such a "
" I ask you where is the risk ? " repeated Ralph, emphati-
cally.
" Where the risk ? " returned Squeers, rubbing his knees
still harder. " Why, it an't necessary to mention. Certain
subjects is best awoided. Oh, you know what risk I mean."
" How often have 1 told you," said Ralph, " and how often
am I to tell you, that you run no risk ? What have you sworn,
or what are you asked to swear, but that at such and such a
time a boy was left with you by the name of Smike ; that he
was at your school for a given number of years, was lost under
such and such circumstances, is now found, and has been
identified by you in such and such keeping. This is all true ;
is it not ? "
"Yes," replied Squeers, " that's all true."
" Well, then," said Ralph, " what risk do you run ? Who
swears to a lie but Snawley ; a man whom I have paid much
less than I have you ? "
" He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley," observed
Squeers.
" He did it cheap ! " retorted Ralph, testily, " yes, and he
did it well, and carries it off with a hypocritical face and a
sanctified air, but you ! Risk ! What do you mean by risk .?
The certificates are all genuine. Snawley had another son,
he has been married twice, his first wife is dead, none but her
ghost could tell that she didn't write that letter, none but
Snawley himself can tell that this is not his son, and that this
son is food for worms ! The only perjury is Snawley's, and I
fancy he is pretty well used to it. Where's your risk ? "
"Why, you know," said Squeers, fidgeting in his chair, " if
you come to that, I might say where's yours ? "
" You might say where's mine ! " returned Ralph ; " you
may say where's mine. I don't appear in the business, neither
do you. All Snawley's interest is to stick well to the story
he has told ; all his risk is, to depart from it in the least.
Talk oi your risk in the conspiracy ! "
" I say," remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round ;
" don't call it that ! Just as a favor, don't."
" Call it what you like," said Ralph, irritably, " but at-
tend to me. This tale was originally fabricated as a means of
annoyance against one who hurt your trade and half cudgelled
you to death, and to enable you to obtain repossession of a
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 735
half-dead drudge whom you wished to regain, because, while
you wreaked your vengeance on him for his share in the busi-
ness, you knew that the knowledge that he was again in your
power would be the best punishment you could inflict upon
your enemy. Is that so, Mr. Squeers ? "
■ " Why, sir," returned Squeers, almost overpowered by the
determination which Ralph displayed to make ever}'thing tell
against him, and by his stern unyielding manner : " in a meas-
ure it was."
" What does that mean ! " said Ralph.
" Why, in a measure, means," returned Squeers, " as it
may be, that it wasn't all on my account, because you had
some old grudge to satisfy, too."
" If I had not had," said Ralph, in no way abashed by the
reminder, " do you think I should have helped you ? "
" Why no, I don't suppose you would," Squeers replied.
" I only wanted that point to be all square and straight be-
tween us."
" How can it ever be otherwise ? " retorted Ralph. " Ex-
cept that the account is against me, for I spend money to
gratify my hatred, and you pocket it, and gratify yours at the
same time. You are, at least, as avaricious as you are re-.^
vengeful. So am I. Which is best off?- You, who win money
and revenge at the same time and by the same process, and
who are, at all events, sure of money, if not of revenge ; or I,
who am only sure of spending money in any case, and can
but win bare revenge at last ? "
As Mr. Squeers could only answer this proposition by
shrugs and smiles, Ralph bade him be silent, and thankful
that he was so well off ; and then, fixing his eyes steadily
upon him, proceeded to say :
First, that Nicholas had thwarted him in a plan he had
formed for the disposal in marriage of a certain young lady,
and had, in the confusion attendant on her father's sudden
death, secured that lady himself, and borne her off in tri-
umph.
Secondly, that by some will or settlement — certainly by
some instrument in writing, which must contain the young
lady's name, and could be, therefore, easily selected from
others, if access to the place where it was deposited were
once secured — she was entitled to property which, if the ex-
istence of this deed ever became known to her, would make
her husband (and Ralph represented that Nicholas was cer-
,,6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
tain to marry her) a rich and prosperous man, and a most
formidable enemy,
Thirdly, that this deed had been, with others, stolen from
one who had himself obtained or concealed it fraudulently,
and who feared to take any steps for its recovery ; and that
he (Ralph) knew the thief.
To all this Mr. Squeers listened, with greedy ears that de-
voured every syllable, and with his one eye and his mouth
wide open : marvelling for what special reason he was hon-
ored with so much of Ralph's confidence, and to what it all
tended.
" Now," said Ralph, leaning forward, and placing his hand
on Squeers's arm, " hear the design which I have conceived,
and which I must — I say, must, if I can ripen it — cause to be
carried into execution. No advantage can be reaped from
this deed, whatever it is, save by the girl herself, or her hus-
band ; and the possession of this deed by one or other of
them is indispensable to any advantage being gained. That,
I have discovered beyond the possibility of doubt. I want
that deed brought here, that I may give the man who brings
it, fifty pounds in gold, and burn it to ashes before his face."
Mr. Squeers, after following with his eye the action of
Ralph's hand towards the fire-place as if he were at that mo-
ment consuming the paper, drew a long breath, and said :
" Yes ; but who's to bring it ? "
" Nobody, perhaps, for much is to be done before it can
be got at," said Ralph. " But if anybody — you ! "
Mr. Squeers's first tokens of consternation, and his flat
relinquishment of the task, would have staggered most men,
if they had not immediately occasioned an utter abandonment
of the proposition. On Ralph, they produced not the slight-
est effect. Resuming, when the schoolmaster had quite talked
himself out of breath, as coolly as if he had never been in-
terrupted, Ralph proceeded to expatiate on such features of
the case as he deemed it most advisable to lay the greatest
stress on.
These were, the age, decrepitude, and weakness of Mrs.
Sliderskew ; the great'improbability of her having any accom-
plice or even acquaintance : taking into account her secluded
habits, and her long residence in such a house as Gride's ; the
strong reason there was to suppose that the robbery was not
the result of a concerted plan : otherwise she would have
watched an opportunity of carrying off a sum of money ; the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
737
difficulty she would be placed in when she began to think on
what she had done, and found herself incumbered with docu-
ments of whose nature she was utterly ignorant; the compar-
ati\e ease with which somebody, with a full knowledge of her
position, obtaining access to her, and working on her fears, if
necessary, might worm himself into her confidence, and ob-
tain, under one pretence or another, free possession of the
deed. To these were added such considerations, as the con-
stant residence of Mr. Squeers at a long distance from Lon-
don, which rendered his association with Mrs. Sliderskew a
mere masquerading frolic, in which nobody was likely to rec-
ognize him, either at the time or afterwards ; the impossibility
of Ralph's undertaking the task himself, he being already
known to her by sight ; various comments on the uncommon
tact and experience of Mr. Squeers : which would make his
overreaching one old woman, a mere matter of child's play
and amusement. Ifi addition to these influences and persua-
sions, Ralph drew, with his utmost skill and power, a vivid
picture of the defeat which Nicholas would sustain, should
they succeed, in linking himself to a beggar, where he ex-
pected to wed an heiress — glanced at the immeasurable im-
portance it must be to a man situated as Squeers, to preserve
such a friend as himself — dwelt on a long train of benefits,
conferred since their first acquaintance, when he had re-
ported favorably of his treatment of a sickly boy who had died
under his hands (and whose death was very convenient to
Ralph and his clients, but this he did not say) and finally
hinted that the fifty pounds might be increased to seventy-five,
or, in the event of very great success, even to a hundred.
These arguments at length concluded, Mr. Squeers crossed
his legs, uncrossed them, scratched his head, rubbed his eye,
examined the palms of his hands, bit his nails, and after
exhibiting many other signs of restlessness and indecision,
asked " whether one hundred pound was the highest that Mr.
Nickleby could go ? " Being answered in the affirmative, he
became restless again, and, after some thought and an un-
successful inquiry " whether he couldn't go another fifty," said
he supposed he must try and do the most he could for
a friend : which was always his maxim, and therefore he
undertook the job.
" But how are you to get at the woman ? " he said ; " that's
what it is as puzzles me."
" 1 may not get at her at all," replied Ralph, " but I'll Xry.
47
738
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
I have hunted people in this city, before now, who have been
better hid than she ; and I know quarters in which a guinea
or two, carefully spent, will often solve darker riddles than
this. Ay, and keep them close too, if need be ! I hear my
man ringing at the door. We may as well part. You had
better not come to and fro, but wait till you hear from me."
" Good ! " returned Squeers. " I say ! If you shouldn't
find her out, you'll pay expenses at the Saracen, and some-
thing for loss of time ? "
"Well," said Ralph, testily; " )'es ! You have nothing
more to say ? "
Squeers shaking his head, Ralph accompanied him to the
street-door, and, audibly wondering, for the edification of
Newman, why it was fastened as if it were night, let him in
and_ Squeers out, and returned to his own room.
"Now!" he muttered, "come what come may, for the
present I am firm and unshaken. Let me but retrieve this
one small portion of my loss and disgrace ; let me but defeat
him in this one hope, dear to his heart as I know it must be ;
let me but do this ; and it shall be the first link in such a
chain which I will wind about him, as never man forged yet."
CHAPTER LVIl.
HOW RALPH NICKLEBV'S AUXILIARY WENT ABOUT HIS WORK,
AND HOW HE PROSPERED WITH IT.
It was a dark, wet, gloomy night in autumn, when in an
upper room of a mean house situated in an obscure street or
rather court near Lambeth, there sat, all alone, a one-eyed
man grotesquely habited, either for lack of better garments
or for purposes of disguise, in a loose great-coat with arms
half as long again as his own, and a capacity of breath and
length which would have admitted of his winding himself in
it, head and all, with the utmost ease, and without any risk of
straining the old and greasy material of which it was com-
posed.
So attired, and in a place so far removed from his usual
haunts and occupations, and so very poor and wretched in its
character, perhaps Mrs. Squeers herself would have had some
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
739
difficulty in recognizing her lord : quickened though her
natural sagacity doubtless would have been, by the affectionate
yearnings and impulses of a tender wife. But Mrs. Squeers's
lord it was. And in a tolerably disconsolate mood Mrs.
Squeers's lord appeared to be, as, helping himself from a black
bottle which stood on the table beside him, he cast round the
chamber a look in which very slight regard for the objects
within view was plainly mingled with some regretful and
impatient recollection of distant scenes and persons.
There were no particular attractions, either in the room
over which the glance of Mr. Squeers so discontentedly
wandered, or in the narrow street into which it might have
penetrated, if he had thought fit to approach the window. The
attic-chamber in which he sat, was bare and mean ; the bed-
stead, and such few other articles of necessary furniture as it
contained, were of the commonest description, in a most
crazy state, and of a most uninviting appearance. The street
was muddy, dirty, and deserted. Having but one outlet, it
was traversed by few save the inhabitants, at any time ; and
the night being one of those on which most people are glad
to be within doors, it now presented no other signs of life
than the dull glimmering of poor candles from the dirty win-
dows, and few sounds but the pattering of the rain, and
occasionally the heavy closing of some creaking door.
Mr. Squeers continued to look disconsolately about him,
and to listen to these noises in profound silence, broken only
by the rustling of his large coat, as he now and then moved
his arm to raise his glass to his lips. Mr. Squeers continued
to do this for some time, until the increasing gloom warned
him to snuff the candle. Seeming to be slightly roused by
this exertion, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, and fixing them
upon some uncouth and fantastic figures traced upon it by the
wet and damp which had penetrated through the roof, broke
into the following soliloquy :
" Well, this is a pretty go, is this here ! An uncommon
pretty go ! Here have I been, a matter of how many weeks
— hard upon six — a-foUering up this here blessed old dowager
petty larcenerer," — Mr. Squeers delivered himself of this
epithet with great difficulty and effort — "and Dotheboys Hall
a-running itself regularly to seed the while ! That's the worst
of ever being in with a owdacious chap like that old Nickleby.
You never know when he's done with you, and if you're in for
a penny, you're in for a pound."
74°
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
This remark, perhaps, reminded Mr. Squeers that he was
in for a hundred pound at any rate. His countenance relaxed,
and he raised his glass to his mouth with an air of greater
enjoyment of its contents than he had before evinced.
" I never see," soliloquized Mr. Squeers in continuation,
" I never see nor come across such a file as that old Nickleby.
Never ! He's out of everybody's depth, he is. He's what
you may call a rasper, is Nickleby. To see how sly and cun-
ning he grubbed on, day after day, a-worming and plodding
and tracing and turning and twining of hisself about, till he
found out where this precious Mrs. Peg was hid, and cleared
the ground for me to work upon. Creeping and crawling
and gliding, like a ugly old bright-eyed stagnation-blooded
adder ! Ah ! He'd have made a good un in our line, but it
would have been too limited for him ; his genius would have
busted all bonds, and coming over every obstacle, broke down
all before it, 'till it erected itself into a monneyment of — Well,
I'll think of the rest, and say it when conwenient."
Making a halt in his reflections at this place, Mr. Squeers
again put his glass to his lips, and drawing a dirty letter from
his pocket, proceeded to con over its contents with the air of
a man who had read it very often, and who now refreshed
his memory rather in the absence of better amusement than
for any specific information,
" The pigs is well," said Mr. Squeers, " the cows is well,
and the boys is bobbish. Young Sprouter has been a-wink-
ing, has he ? I'll wink him when I get back. ' Cobbey would
persist in sniffing while he was a-eating his dinner, and said
that the beef was so strong it made him.' — Very good, Cob-
bey, we'll see if we can't make you sniff a little without beef.
' Pitcher was took with another fever,' — of course he was —
' and being fetched by his friends, died the day after he got
home,' — of course he did, and out of aggravation ; it's part of
a deep-laid system. There an't another chap in the school
but that boy as would have died exactly at the end of the
quarter : taking it out of me to the very last, and then carry-
ing his spite to the utmost extremity. ' The juniorest Palmer
said he wished he was in Heaven.' I really don't know, I do
not know what's to be done with that young fellow ; he's
always a-wishing something horrid. He said, once, he wished
he was a donkey, because then he wouldn't have a father as
didn't love him ! Pretty wicious that for a child of six ! "
Mr. Squeers was so much moved by the contemplation of
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 741'
this hardened nature in one so young, that he angrily put up
the letter, and sought, in a new train of ideas, a subject of
consolation.
" It's a long time to have been a-lingering in London," he
said ; " and this is a precious hole to come and live in, even
if it has been only for a week or so. Still, one hundred pound
is five boys, and five boys takes a whole year to pay one hun-
dred pound, and there's their keep to be substracted. There's
nothing lost, neither, by one's being here ; because the boys'
money comes in just the same as if I was at home, and Mrs.
Squeers she keeps them in order. There'll be some lost time
to make up, of course. There'll be an arrear of flogging
as'U have to be gone through \ still, a couple of days makes
that all right, and one don't mind a little extra work for one
hundred pound. It's pretty nigh the time to wait upon the
old woman. From what she said last night, I suspect that if
I'm to succeed at all, I shall succeed to-night; so I'll have
half a glass more, to wish myself success, and put myself in
spirits. Mrs. Squeers, my dear, your health ! "
Leering with his one eye as if the lady to whom he drank,
had been actually present, Mr. Squeers — in his enthusiasm,
no doubt — poured out a full glass, and emptied it ; and as the
liquor was raw spirits, and he had applied himself to the same
bottle more than once already, it is not surprising that he
found himself by this time in an extremely cheerful state, and
quite enough excited for his purpose.
What this purpose was, soon appeared. After a few turns
about the room to steady himself, he took the bottle under
his arm and the glass in his hand, and blowing out the can-
dle as if he purposed being gone some time, stole out upon
the staircase and creeping softly to a door opposite his own,
tapped gently at it.
" But what's the use of tapping ? " he said. " She'll never
hear. I suppose she isn't doing anything very particular ;
and if she is, it don't much matter, that I see."
With this brief preface. Mr. Squeers applied his hand to
the latch of the door and thrusting his head into a garret far
more deplorable than that he had just left, and seeing that
there was nobody there but an old woman, who was bending
over a wretched fire (for although the weather was still warm,
the evening was chilly), walked in, and tapped her on the
shoulder.
"Well, my Slider! " said Mr. Squeers, jocularly.
-^2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Is that you ? " inquired Peg.
" Ah ! It's me, and me's the first person singular, nomina-
tive case, agreeing with the verb 'it's,' and governed by
Squeers understood, as a acorn, a hour ; but when the h is
sounded, the a only is to be used, as a and, a art, a ighway,"
replied Mr. Squeers, quoting at random from the grammar.
" At least, if it isn't, you don't know any better. And if it is,
I've done it accidentally."
Delivering this reply in his accustomed tone of voice, in
which of course it was inaudible to Peg, Mr. Squeers drew a
stool to the fire, and placing himself over against her, and
the bottle and glass on the floor between them, roared out
again very loud,
" Well, my Slider ! "
" I hear you," said Peg, receiving him very graciously.
" I've come according to promise," roared Squeers.
" So they used to say in that part of the country I come
from," observed Peg, complacently, "but I think oil's
better."
" Better than what ? " roared Squeers, adding some rather
strong language in an undertone.
"No," said Peg, "of course not."
" I never saw such a monster as you are ! " muttered
Squeers, looking as amiable as he possibly could, the while ;
for Peg's eye was upon him, and she was chuckling fearfully,
as though in delight at having made a choice repartee. " Do
you see this ? This is a bottle."
" I see it," answered Peg.
" Well, and do you see this 1 " bawled Squeers. " This is
a glass 1 " Peg saw that too.
" See here, then," said Squeers, accompanying his remarks
with appropriate action. " I fill the glass from the bottle, and
I say ' your health. Slider,' and I empty it ; then I rinse it
genteelly with a little drop, which I'm forced to throw into
the fire— Hallo ! we shall have the chimbley alight next — fill
it again, and hand it over to you."
" Your health," said Peg.
"She understands that, anyways," muttered Squeers,
watching Mrs. Sliderskew as she'dispatched her portion, and
choked and gasped in a most awful manner after so doing ;
" now then, let's have a talk. How's the rheumatics ? "
Mrs. Sliderskew, with much blinking and chuckling, and
with looks expressive of her strong admiration of Mr. Squeers,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
743
his person, manners, and conversation, replied that the rheu-
matics were better.
" What's the reason," said Mr. Squeers, deriving fresh
facetiousness from the bottle ; " what's the reason of rheu-
matics ? What do they mean ? What do people have 'em
for— eh ? "
Mrs. Sliderskew didn't know, but suggested that it was
possibly because they couldn't help it.
" Measles, rheumatics, hooping-cough, fevers, agers, and
lumbagers," said Mr. Squeers, "is all philosophy together;
that's what it is. The heavenly bodies is philosophy, and the
earthly bodies is philosophy. If there's a screw loose in a
heavenly body, that's philosophy ; and if there's a screw loose
in a earthly body, that's philosophy too ; or it may be that
sometimes there's a little metaphysics in it, but that's not
often. Philosophy's the chap for me. If a parent asks a
question in the classical, commercial, or mathematical line,
says I, gravely, ' Why, sir, in the first place, are you a phi-
losopher?'— ' No, Mr. Squeers,' he says, 'I an't.' 'Then, sir,'
says I, ' I am sorry for you, for I shan't be able to explain it.'
Naturally, the parent goes away and wishes he was a phi-
losopher, and, equally naturally, thinks I'm one."
Saying this, and a great deal more, with tipsy profundity
and a serio-comic air, and keeping his eye all the time on Mrs.
Sliderskew, who was unable to hear one word, Mr. Squeers
concluded by helping himself and passing the bottle. To
which Peg did becoming reverence.
"That's the time of day ! " said Mr. Squeers. " You look
twenty pound ten better than you did."
Again Mrs. Sliderskew chuckled, but modesty forbade her
assenting verbally to the compliment.
"Twenty pound ten better," repeated Mr. Squeers, "than
you did that day when I first introduced myself. Don't you
know .? "
" Ah ! " said Peg, shaking her head, " but you frightened
me that day."
" Did I .'"' said Squeers; "well, it was rather a startling
thing for a stranger to come and recommend himself by saying
that he knew all about you, and what your name was, and
why you were living so quiet here, and what you had boned,
and who you boned it from, wasn't it .'' "
Peg nodded her head in strong assent.
" But I know ever)'thing that happens in that way, you
y44 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
see," continued Squeers. " Nothing takes place, of that kind,
that I ain't up to entirely. I'm a sort of a lawyer, Slider, of
first-rate standing and understanding. I'm the intimate friend
and confidential adwiser of pretty nigh every man, woman,
and child that gets themselves into difficulties by being too
nimble with their fingers. I'm "
Mr. Squeers's catalogue of his own merits and accomplish-
ments, which was partly the result of a concerted plan be-
tween himself and Ralph Nickleby, and flowed, in part, from
the black bottle, was here interrupted by Mrs. Sliderskew.
" Ha, ha, ha ! " she cried, folding her arms and wagging
her head ; " and so he wasn't married after all, wasn't he ?
Not married after all ? "
" No," replied Squeers, " that he wasn't ! "
" And a young lover come and carried off the bride, eh t "
said Peg.
" From under his very nose," -replied Squeers ; " and I'm
told the young chap cut up rough besides, and broke the
winders, and forced him to swaller his wedding favor.
Which nearly choked him."
" Tell me all about it again," cried Peg, with a malicious
relisK~~of-her old -master's- defeat, which madg" her natural
hideousness something quite fearful ;' " let*s hear it all again,
beginning at the beginning now, as if you'd never told me.
Let's have it every word — now — now — beginning at the very
first, you know, when he went to the house that morning ! "
"^^ Mr. Squeers, plying Mrs. Sliderskew freely with the liquor,
and sustaining himself under the exertion of speaking so loud
by frequent applications to it himself, complied with this re-
quest by describing the discomfiture of Arthur Gride, with
such improvements on the truth as happened to occur to him,
and the ingenious invention and application of which had
been very instrumental in recommending him to her notice in
the beginning of their acquaintance. Mrs. Sliderskew was in
an ecstasy of delight, rolling her Ijead about, drawing up her
skinny shoulders, and wrinkling her cadaverous face into so
many and such complicated forms of ugliness, as awakened
the unbounded astonishment and disgust even of Mr. Squeers.
" He's a treacherous old goat," said Peg, "and cozened
me with cunning tricks and lying promises ; but never mind.
I'm even with him, I'm e\'en with him."
"More than even. Slider," returned Squeers; "you'd
have been even with him, if he'd got married ; but with the
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
745
disappointment besides, you're a long way a-head. Out of
sight, Slider, quite out of sight. And that reminds me," he
added, handing her the glass, '' if you want me to give you
my opinion of them deeds, and tell you what you'd better
keep and what you'd better burn, why, now's your time,
Slider."
" There ain't no hurry for that," said Peg, with several
knowing looks and winks.
" Oh ! very well ! " observed Squeers, " it don't matter to
me. You asked me, you know. I shouldn't charge you
nothing, being a friend. You're the best judge of course.
But you're a bold woman. Slider."
" How do you mean bold ? " said Peg.
"Why, I only mean that if it was me, I wouldn't keep
papers as might hang me, littering about when they might be
turned into money — them as wasn't useful made away with,
and them as was, laid by somewheres, safe ; that's all," re-
turned Squeers ; " but everybody's the best judge of their own
affairs. All I say is. Slider, /wouldn't do it."
" Come," said Peg, " then you shall see 'em."
" I don't want to see 'em," replied Squeers, affecting to
be out of humor, " don't talk as if it was a treat. Show 'em
to somebody else, and take their advice." ^
Mr. Squeers would, very likely, have carried on the farce';
of being offended, a little longer, if Mrs. Sliderskew in her',
anxiety to restore herself to her former high position in his /
good graces had not become so extremely affectionate that he
stood at some risk of being smothered by her caresses. Re-
pressing, with as good a grace as possible, these little famili-
arities— for which, there is reason to believe, the black bottle I
was at least as much to blame as any constitutional infirmity '
on the part of Mrs. Sliderskew — he protested that he had only
been joking, and, in proof of his unimpaired good humor,
that he was ready to examine the deeds at once, if by so doing
he could afford any satisfaction or relief of mind to his fair
friend.
" And now you're up, my Slider," bawled Squeers, as she
rose to fetch them, " bolt the door."
Peg trotted to the door, and after fumbling at the bolt,
crept to the other end of the room, and from beneath the
coals which filled the bottom of the cupboard, drew forth a
small deal box. Having placed this on the floor at Squecrs's
feet, she brought, from under the pillow of her bed, a small
746 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
key, with which she signed to that gentleman to open it. Mr.
Squeers, who had eagerly followed her every motion, lost no
time in obeying this hint : and, throwing back the lid, gazed
with rapture on the documents within.
" Now you see," said Peg, kneeling down on the floor
beside him, and staying his impatient hand ; " what's of no
use, we'll burn ; what we can get any money by, we'll keep ;
and if there's any we could get him into trouble by, and fret
and waste away his heart to shreds with, those we'll take
particular care of ; for that's what I want to do, and what I
hoped to do when I left him."
" I thought," said Squeers, " that you didn't bear him any
particular good-will. But, I say 1 Why didn't you take some
money besides } "
" Some what ?" asked Peg.
" Some money," roared Squeers. " I do believe the
woman hears me, and wants to make me break a wessel, so
that she may have the pleasure of nursing me. Some money,
Slider, money ? "
" Why, what a man you are to ask ! " cried Peg, with some
contempt. " If I had taken money from Arthur Gride, he'd
have scoured the whole earth to find me — ay, and he'd have
smelt it out, and raked it up, somehow, if I had buried it at
the bottom of the deepest well in England. No, no ! I knew
better than that. I took what I thought his secrets were hid
in. Them he couldn't afford to make public, let 'em be worth
ever so much money. He's an old dog ; a sly old cunning
thankless dog ! He first starved, and then tricked me ; and
if I could, I'd kill him."
" All right, and very laudable," said Squeers. " But, first
and foremost. Slider, burn the box. You should never keep
things as may lead to discovery. Always mind that. So while
you pull it to pieces (which you can easily do, for it's very old
and rickety) and burn it in litde bits, I'll look over the papers
and tell you what they are."
Peg, expressing her acquiescence in this arrangement, Mr.
Squeers turned the box bottom upward, and tumbling the con-
tents upon the floor, handed it to her ; the destruction of the
box being an extemporary device for engaging her attention
in case it should prove desirable to distract it from his own
proceedings.
" There ! " said Squeers ; " you poke the pieces between
the bars, and make up a good fire, and I'll read the while. Let
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 7 47
me see, let me see." And taking the candle down beside him,
Mr. Squeers, with great eagerness and a cunning grin over-
spreading his face, entered upon his task of examination.
If the old woman had not been very deaf, she must have
heard, when she last went to the door, the breathing of two per-
sons close behind it : and if those two persons had been unac-
quainted with her iniirmity they must probably have chosen that
moment either for presenting themselves or taking to flight.
But, knowing with whom they had to deal, they remained quite
still, and now not only appeared unobserved at the door —
which was not bolted, for the bolt had no hasp — but warily,
and with noiseless footsteps, advanced into the room.
As they stole farther and farther in by slight and scarcely
perceptible degrees, and with such caution that they scarcely
seemed to breathe, the old hag and Squeers, little dreaming
of any such invasion, and utterly unconscious of there being
any soul near but themselves, were busily occupied with their
tasks. The old woman with her wrinkled face close to the |
bars of the stove, puffing at the dull embers which had not yet |
caught the wood ; Squeers, stooping down to the candle, \
which brought out the full ugliness of his face, as the light of \
the fire did that of his companion ; both intently engaged,
and wearing faces of exultation which contrasted strongly
with the anxious looks of those behind, who took advantage
of the slightest sound to cover their advance, and, almost be-
fore they had moved an inch and all was silent, stopped
again. This, with the large bare room, damp walls, and flick-
ering doubtful light, combined to form a scene which the most
careless and indifferent spectator (could any such have been
present) could scarcely have failed to derive some interest
from, and would not readily have forgotten.
Of the stealthy comers, Frank Cheeryble was one, and
Newman Noggs the other. Newman had caught up by
the rusty nozzle, an old pair of bellows, which were just under-
going a flourish in the air preparator)' to a descent upon the
head" of Mr. Squeers, when Frank with an earnest gesture
stayed his arm, and, taking another step in advance, came so
close behind the schoolmaster that, by leaning slightly forward,
he could plainly distinguish the writing which he held up to
his eye.
Mr. Squeers, not being remarkably erudite, appeared to be
considerably puzzled by this first prize, which was in an en-
grossing hand, and not very legible except to a practised eye.
748
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
Having tried it by reading from left to right, and from right
to left, and finding it equally clear both ways, he turned it up-
side down with no better success.
" Ha, ha, ha ! " chuckled Peg, who, on her knees before
the fire, was feeding it with fragments of the box, and grin-
ning in most devilish exultation. " What's that writing about,
eh ? "
"Nothing particular," replied Squeers, tossing it towards
her. " It's only an old lease, as well as I can make out. Throw
it in the fire."
Mrs. Sliderskew complied, and inquired what the next one
was.
"This," said Squeers, "is a bundle of overdue acceptances
and renewed bills of six or eight young gentleman ; but they're
all M. P.'s, so it's of no use to anybody. Throw it in the fire."
Peg did as she was bidden, and waited for the next.
" This," said Squeers, " seems to be some deed of sale of
the right of presentation to the rectory of Purechurch, in the
valley of Cashup. Take care of that. Slider, literally for God's
sake. It'll fetch its price at the Auction Mart."
"What's the next ? " inquired Peg.
"Why, this," said Squeers, "seems, from the two letters
that's with it, to be a bond from a curate down in the country,
to pay half-a-year's wages of forty pound for borrowing twenty.
Take care of that ; for if he don"t pay it, his bishop will very
soon be down upon him. We know what the camel and the
needle's eye means ; no man as can't live upon his income,
whatever it is, must expect to go to heaven at any price. It's
very odd ; I don't see anything like it yet."
" What's the matter ? '' said Peg.
"Nothing," replied Squeers, "only I'm looking for "
Newman raised the bellows again. Once again, Frank, by
a rapid motion of his arm unaccompanied with any noise,
checked him in his purpose.
" Here you are," said Squeers, " bonds — take care of them.
Warrant of attorney — take care of that. Two cognovits — take
care of them. Lease and release — burn that. Ah ! ' Mad-
eline Bray — come of age or marry — the said Madeline ' — here,
burn that !'''
Eagerly throwing towards the old woman a parchment that
he caught up for the purpose, Squeers, as she turned her head,
thrust into the breast of his large coat, the deed in which these
words had caught his eye, and burst into a shout of triumph.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
749
" I've got it ! " said Squeers. " I've got it ! Hurrah ! The
plan was a good one though the chance was desperate, and
the day's our own at last ! "
Peg demanded what he laughed at, but no answer was re-
turned. Newman's arm could no longer be restrained. The
bellows descended heavily, and with unerring aim on the very
centre of Mr. Squeers's head, felled him to the floor, and
stretched him on it fiat and senseless.
CHAPTER LVIII.
TN WHICH ONE SCENE OF THIS HISTORY IS CLOSED.
Dividing the distance into two days' journey, in order that
his charge might sustain the less exhaustion and fatigue from
travelling so far, Nicholas, at the end of the second day from
their leaving home, found himself within a very few miles of
the spot where the happiest years of his life had been passed,
and which, while it filled his mind with pleasant and peaceful
thoughts, brought back many painful and vivid recollections
of the circumstances in which he and his had wandered forth
from their old home, cast upon the rough world and the mercy
of strangers.
It needed no such reflections as those which the memory
of old days, and wanderings among scenes where our childhood
has been passed, usually awaken in the most insensible minds,
to soften the heart of Nicholas and render him more than
usually mindful of his drooping friend. By night and day, at
all times and seasons : always watchful, attentive, and solicit-
ous, and never varying in the discharge of his self-imposed
duty to one so friendless and helpless as he whose sands of
life were now fast running out and dwindling rapidly away :
he was ever at his side. He never left him. To encourage
and animate him, administer to his wants, support and cheer
him to the utmost of his power, was now his constant and un-
ceasing occupation.
They procured a humble lodging in a small farm-house,
surrounded by meadows where Nicholas had often re\elled
when a child with a troop of merry school-fellows ; and here
they took up their rest.
y ^ o NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
At first, Smike was strong enough to walk about, for short
distances at a time, with no other support or aid than that
which Nicholas could afford him. At this time, nothing ap-
peared to interest him so much as visiting those places which
had been most familiar to his friend in bygone clays. Yield-
ing to this fancy, and pleased to find that its indulgence be-
guiled the sick boy of many tedious hours, and never failed to
afford him matter for thought and conversation afterwards,
Nicholas made such spots the scenes of their daily rambles :
driving him from place to place in a little pony-chair, and
supporting him on his arm while they walked slowly among
these old haunts, or lingered in the sunlight to take long
parting looks of those which were most quiet and beautiful.
It was on such occasions as these, that Nicholas, yielding
almost unconsciously to the interest of old associations, would
point out some tree that he had climbed a hundred times, to
peep at the young birds in their nest ; and the branch from
which he used to shout to little Kate, who stood below terri-
fied at the height he had gained, and yet urging him higher
still by the intensity of her admiration. There was the old
house too, which they would pass every day, looking up at the
tiny window through which the sun used to stream in and
wake him on the summer mornings — they were all sumrner
mornings then — and, climbing up the garden-wall and looking
over, Nicholas could see the very rose-bush which had come,
a present to Kate, from some little lover, and she had planted
with her own hands. There were the hedge-rows where the
brother and sister had often gathered wild flowers together,
and the green fields and shady paths where they had often
strayed. "There was not a lane, or brook, or copse, or cottage
near, with which some childish event was not entwined, and
back it came upon the mind — as events of childhood do — noth-
ing in itself : perhaps a word, a laugh, a look, some slight
distress, a passing thought or fear : and yet more strongly and
distinctly marked, and better remembered, than the hardest
trials or severest sorrows of a year ago.
"^ One of these expeditions led them through the churchyard
irhere was his father's grave. " Even here," said Nicholas,
softly, " we used to loiter before we knew what death was,
md when we little thought whose ashes would rest beneath ;
md, wondering at the silence, sit down to rest and speak be-
1^ our breath. Once. Kate was lost, and after an hour of
fruitless search, they found her fast asleep under that tree
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
751
which shades my father's grave. He was very fond of her,
and said when he took her up in his arms, still sleeping, that
whenever he died he would wish to be buried where his dear
little child had laid her head. You see his wish was not for-
gotten."
Nothing more passed, at the time ; but that night, as
Nicholas sat beside his bed, Smike started from what had
seemed to be a slumber, and laying his hand in his, prayed,
as the tears coursed down his face, that he would make him
one solemn promise.
" What is that ? " said Nicholas, kindly. " If I can re-
deem it, or hope to do so, you know I will."
"I am sure you will," was the reply. " Promise me that
when I die, I shall be buried near — as near as they can make
my grave — to the tree we saw to-day."
Nicholas gave the promise ; he had few words to give it
in, but they were solemn and earnest. His poor friend kept
his hand in his, and turned as if to sleep. But there were sti-
fled sobs ; and the hand was pressed more than once, or twice,
or thrice, before he sank to rest and slowly loosed his hold.
In a fortnight's time, he became too ill to' move about.
Once or twice, Nicholas drove him out, propped up with
pillows ; but the motion of the chaise was painful to him, and
brought on fits of fainting, which, in his weakened state, were
dangerous. There was an old couch in the house, which was
his favorite resting-place by day ; when the sun shone, and
the weather was warm, Nicholas had this wheeled into a little
orchard which was close at hand, and his charge being well
wrapped up and carried out to it, they used to sit there some-
times for hours together.
It was on one of these occasions that a circumstance took
place, which Nicholas, at the time, thoroughly believed to be
the mere delusion of an imagination affected by disease ; but
which he had, afterwards, too good reason to know was of
real and actual occurrence.
He had brought Smike out in his arms — poor fellow ! a
child might have carried him then — to see the sunset, and,
having arranged his couch, had taken his seat beside it. He
had been watching the whole of the night before, and being
greatly fatigued both in mind and body, gradually fell asleep.
He could not have closed his eyes five minutes, when
he was awakened by a scream, and starting up in that
kind of terror which affects a person suddenly roused, saw, to
J ^2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
his great astonishment, that his charge had struggled into a
sitting posture, and with eyes ahnost starting from their
sockets, cold dew standing on his forehead, and in a fit of
trembling which quite convulsed his frame, was calling to him
for help.
" Good Heaven, what is this ! " said Nicholas, bending
over him. " Be calm ; you have been dreaming."
" No, no, no ! " cried Smike clinging to him. " Hold me
tight. Don't let me go. There, there ! Behind the tree ! "
Nicholas followed his eyes, which were directed to some
distance behind the chair from which he himself had just
risen. But there was nothing there.
" This is nothing but your fancy," he said, as he strove to
compose him ; "nothing else indeed."
" I know better. I saw as plain as I see now," was the
answer. " Oh ! say you'll keep me with you. Swear you
won't leave me, for an instant ! "
" Do I ever leave you .' " returned Nicholas. " Lie down
again — there ! You see I'm here. Now, tell me ; what was
it.?"
" Do you remember," said Smike, in a low voice, and
glancing fearfully round, " do you remember my telling you
of the man who first took me to the school ? "
" Yes, surely."
" I raised my eyes, just now, towards that tree — that one
with the thick trunk — and there, with his eyes fixed on me, he
stood ! "
"Only reflect for one moment," said Nicholas; "grant-
ing, for an instant, that it's likely he is alive and wandering
about a lonely place like this, so far removed from the public
road, do you think that at this distance of time you could
possibly know that man again ? "
"Anywhere — in any dress," returned Smike; "but, just
now, he stood leaning upon his stick and looking at me, ex-
actly as I told you I remembered him. He was dusty with
walking, and poorly dressed — I think his clothes were ragged
— but directly I saw him, the wet night, his face when he left
me, the parlor I was left in, the people who were there, all
seemed to come back together. When he knew 1 saw him,
he looked frightened ; for he started, and shrank away. I
have thought of him by day, and dreamt of him by night. He
looked in my sleep, when I was quite a little child, and has
looked in my sleep ever since, as he did just now."
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
753
Nicliolas endeavored, by every persuasion and argument
he could think of, to convince the territied creature that his
imagination had deceived him, and that this close resemblance
between the creation of his dreams and the man he supposed
he had seen was but a proof of it ; but all in vain. When he
could persuade him to remain, for a few moments, in the care
of the people to whom the house belonged, he instituted a
strict inquiry whether any stranger had been seen, and
searched himself behind the tree, and through the orchard,
and upon the land immediately adjoining, and in every place
near, where it was possible for a man to lie concealed \ but
all in vain. Satisfied that he was right in his original conjec-
ture, he applied himself to calming the fears of Smike, which,
after some time, he partially succeeded in doing, though not
in removing the impression upon his mind ; for he still de-
clared, again and again, in the most solemn and fervid man-
ner, that he had positively seen what he had described, and
that nothing could ever remove his conviction of its reality.
And now, Nicholas began to see that hope was gone, and
that, upon the partner of his poverty, and the sharer of his
better fortune, the world was closing fast. There was little
pain, little uneasiness, but there was no rallying, no effort, no
struggle for life. He was worn and wasted to the last degree ;
his voice had sunk so low, that he could scarce be heard to
speak ; Nature was thoroughly exhausted, and he had lain
him down to die.
On a fine mild autumn day, when all was tranquil and at
peace • when the soft sweet air crept in at the open window
of the quiet room, and not a sound was heard but the gentle
rustling of the leaves ; Nicholas sat in his old place by the
bedside, and knew that the time was nearly come. So very
still it was, that every now and then, he bent down his ear to
listen for the breathing of him who lay asleep, as if to assure
himself that life was still there, and that he had not fallen
into that deep slumber from which on earth there is no
waking.
While he was thus employed, the closed eyes opened, and
on the pale face there came a placid smile.
" That's well ! " said Nicholas. " The sleep has done you
good."
" I have had such pleasant dreams " was the answer.
" Such pleasant, happy dreams ! "
" Of what ? " said Nicholas.
48
754
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
The dying boy turned towards him, and, putting his arm
about his neck, made answer, " I shall soon be there ! "
After a short silence he spoke again.
" I am not afraid to die," he said, " I am quite contented.
I almost think that if I could rise from this bed quite well, I
would not wish to do so, now. You have so often told me
we shall meet again — so very often lately, and now I feel the
truth of that, so strongly — that I can even bear to part from
you."
The trembling voice and tearful eye, and the closer grasp
of the arm which accompanied these latter words, showed
how they filled the speaker's heart ; nor were there wanting,
indications of how deeply they had touched the heart of him
to whom they were addressed.
" You say, well," returned Nicholas at length, " and com-
fort me ver}^- much, dear fellow. Let me hear you say you are
happy, if you can."
" I must tell you something first. I should not have a
secret from you. You will not blame me, at a time like this,
I know."
" /blame you ! " exclaimed Nicholas.
" I am sure you will not. You asked me why I was so
changed, and — and sat so much alone. Shall I tell you
why .? "
"Not if it pains you," said Nicholas. " I only asked that
I might make you happier, if I could."
" I know. I felt that, at the time." He drew his friend
closer to him. " You will forgive me ; I could not help it ;
but though I would have died to make her happy, it broke
my heart to see — I know he loves her dearly — Oh ! who
could find that out, so soon as I ! "
The words which followed were feebly and faintly uttered,
and broken by long pauses ; but, from them, Nicholas learnt
for the first time, that the dying boy, with all the ardor of a
nature concentrated on one absorbing, hopeless, secret passion,
loved his sister Kate.
He had procured a lock of her hair, which hung at his
breast, folded in one or two slight ribands she had worn. He
prayed that, when he was dead, Nicholas would take it off, so
that no eyes but his might see it, and that when he was laid
in his coffin and about to be placed in the earth, he would
hang it round his neck again, that it might rest with him in
the grave.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 755
Upon his knees Nicholas gave him this pledge, and prom-
ised again that he siiould rest in the spot he had pointed
out. They embraced, and kissed each other on the cheek.
" Now," he murmured, " I am happy."
He fell into a slight slumber, and waking smiled as be-
fore ; then, spoke of beautiful gardens, which he said stretched
out before him, and were filled with figures of men, women,
and many children, all with light upon their faces , then whis-
pered that it was Eden — and so died.
CHAPTER LIX.
THE PLOTS BEGIN TO FAIL, AND DOUBTS AND DANGERS TO
DISTURB THE PLOTTER.
Ralph sat alone, in the solitary room where he was accus-
tomed to take his meals, and to sit of nights when no profit-
able occupation called him abroad. Before him was an
untasted breakfast, and near to where his fingers beat rest-
lessly upon the table, lay his watch. It was long past the
time at which, for many years, he had put it in his pocket and
gone with measured steps down the stairs to the business of
the day, but he took as little heed of its monotonous warning,
as of the meat and drink before him, and remained with his
head resting on one hand, and his eyes fixed moodily on the
ground.
This departure from his regular and constant habit, in one
so regular and unvarying in all that appertained to the daily
pursuit of riches, would almost of itself have told that the
usurer was not well. That he labored under some mental or
bodily indisposition, and that it was one of no slight kind so
to afifect a man like him, was sufficiently shown by his haggard
face, jaded air, and hollow languid eyes : which he raised at
last w'ith a start and a hasty glance around him, as one who
suddenly awakes from sleep, and cannot immediately recog-
nize the place in which he finds himself.
"What is this," he said, " that hangs over me, and I can-
not shake off ? I have never pampered myself, and should
not be ill. I have never moped, and pined, and yielded to
fancies ; but what can a man do without rest ? "
756
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
He pressed his hand upon his forehead.
*' Night after night comes and goes, and I have no rest.
If I sleep, what rest is that which is disturbed by constant
dreams of the same detested faces crowding round me — of the
same detested people, in every variety of action, mingling with
all I say and do, and always to my defeat ? Waking, what
rest have I, constantly haunted by this heavy shadow of — I
know not what — which is its worst character ! I must have
rest. One night's unbroken rest, and I should be a man
agaui.
Pushing the table from him while he spoke, as though he
loathed the sight of food, he encountered the watch : the
hands of which, were almost upon noon.
" This is strange ! " he said, " noon, and Noggs not here !
what drunken brawl keeps him away 1 1 would give some-
thing now — something in money even after that dreadful loss
— ifhe had stabbed a man in a tavern scuffle, or broken into
a house, or picked a pocket, or done anything that would send
him abroad with an iron ring upon his leg, and rid me of him.
Better still, if I could throw temptation in his way, and lure
him on to rob me. He should be welcome to what he took,
so I brought the law upon him ; for he is a traitor. I swear !
How, or when, or where I don't know, though I suspect."
After waiting for another half-hour, he despatched the
woman who kept his house to Newman's lodging, to inquire if
he were ill, and why he had not come or sent. She brought
back answer that he had not been home all night, and that
no one could tell her anything about him.
" But there is a gentleman, sir," she said, "below, who
was standing at the door when I came in, and he says "
" What says he ? " demanded Ralph, turning angrily upon
her. " I told you I would see nobody."
" He says," replied the woman, abashed by his harshness,
" that he comes on very particular business, which admits of
no excuse ; and I thought perhaps it might be about "
" About what, in the de\ il's name 1 " said Ralph. " You
spy and speculate on people's business with me, do you ? "
" Dear, no, sir ! I saw you were anxious, and thought it
might be about Mr. Noggs ; that's all."
jj " Saw I was anxious ! " muttered Ralph ; " they all watch
me, now. Where is this person ? You did not say I was
not down yet, I hope ? "
The woman replied that he was in the little office, and
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
757
that she had said her master was engaged, but she would take
the message.
"Well," said Ralph, "I'll see him. Go you to your
kitchen, and keep there. Do you mind me ? "
Glad to be released, the woman quickly disappeared.
Collecting himself, and assuming as much of his accustomed
manner as his utmost resolution could summon, Ralph de-
scended the stairs. After pausing for a few moments, with his
hand upon the lock, he entered Newman's room, and con-
fronted Mr. Charles Cheeryble.
Of all men alive, this was one of the last he would have
wished to meet at any time ; but, now, that he recognized in him
only the patron and protector of Nicholas, he would rather have
seen a spectre. One beneficial effect, however, the encounter
had upon him. It instantly roused all his dormant energies ;
rekindled in his breast the passions that, for many years, had
found an improving home there ; called up all his wrath, ha-
tred and malice ; restored the sneer to his lip, and the scowl
to his brow j and made him again, in all outward appearance,
the same Ralph Nickleby whom so many had bitter cause to
remember.
" Humph I " said Ralph, pausing at the door. " This is an
unexpected favor, sir."
" And an unwelcome one," said brother Charles ; " an un-
welcome one, I know."
" Men say you are truth itself, sir," replied Ralph. " You
speak truth now at all events, and I'll not contradict you.
The favor is, at least, as unwelcome as it is unexpected. I can
scarcely say more ! "
" Plainly, sir " began brother Charles.
" Plainly, sir," interrupted Ralph, " I wish this conference
to be a short one, and to end where it begins. I guess the
subject upon which you are about to speak, and I'll not hear
you. You like plainness, I believe ; there it is. Here is the
door as you see. Our ways lie in very different directions.
Take yours, I beg of you, and leave me to pursue mine in
quiet."
" In quiet ! " repeated brother Charles mildly, and looking
at him with more of pity than reproach. " To pursue hiswx^
in quiet ! "
" You will scarcely remain in my house, I presume, sir,
against my will," said Ralph ; "or you can scarcely hope to
make an impression upon a man who closes his ears to all
758
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
that you can say, and is firmly and resolutely determined not
to hear you."
" Mr. Nickleby, sir," returned brother Charles : no less
mildly than before, but firmly too, " I come here against my
will, sorely and grievously against my will. I have never been
in this house before ; and, to speak my mind, air, I don't feel
at home or easy in it, and have no wish ever to be here again.
You do not guess the subject on which I come to speak to
you ; you do not indeed. I am sure of that, or your manner
would be a very different one."
Ralph glanced keenly at him, but the clear eye and open
countenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change
of expression, and met his look without reserve.
" Shall I go on ? " said Mr. Cheeryble.
"Oh, by all means, if you please," returned Ralph dryly.
" Here are walls to speak to, sir, a desk, and two stools : most
attentive auditors, and certain not to interrupt you. Go on, I
beg ; make my house yours, and perhaps by the time I return
from my walk, you will have finished what you have to say,
and will yield me up possession again."
So saying, he buttoned his coat, and turning into the
passage, took down his hat. The old gentleman followed, and
was about to speak, when Ralph waved him off impatiently,
and said :
" Not a word. I tell you, sir not a word. Virtuous as
you are, you are not an angel yet, to appear in men's houses
whether they will or no, and pour your speech into unwilling
ears. Preach to the walls I tell you ; not to me ! "
"I am no angel. Heaven knows," returned brother
Charles, shaking his head, "but an erring and imperfect man;
nevertheless, there is one quality which all men have, in com-
mon with the angels, blessed opportunities of exercising, if
they will, mercy. It is an errand of mercy that brings me
here. Prayf'let me discharge it."
" I show no mercy," retorted Ralph with a triumphant
smile, " and I ask none. Seek no mercy from me, sir, in be-
half of the fellow who has imposed upon your childish cre-
dulity, but let him expect the worst that I can do."
" H: ask mercy at your hands ! " exclaimed the old mer-
chant warmly, " ask it at his, sir : ask it at his. If you will
not hear me now, when you may, hear me when you must, or
anticipate what I would say, and take measures to pre-
vent our ever meeting again. Your nephew is a noble lad,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
759
sir, an honest noble lad. What you are, Mr. Nickleby, I will
not say ; but what you have done, I know. Now, sir, when
you go about the business in which you have been recently
engaged, and find it difficult of pursuing, come to me and my
brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater, sir, and we'll explain it
for you — and come soon, or it may be too late, and you may
have it explained with a little more roughness, and a little less
delicacy — and never forget, sir, that I came here this morn-
ing, in mercy to you, and am still ready to talk to you in the
same spirit."
With these words, uttered with great emphasis and
emotion, brother Charles put on his broad-brimmed hat, and,
passing Ralph Nickleby without any other remark, trotted
nimbly into the street. Ralph looked after him, but neither
moved nor spoke for some time : when he broke what almost
seemed the silence of stupefaction, by a scornful laugh.
" This," he said, " from its wildness, should be another of
those dreams that have so broken my rest of late. In mercy
to me ! Pho ! The old simpleton has gone mad."
Although he expressed himself in this derisive and con-
temptuous manner, it was plain that, the more Ralph
pondered, the more ill at ease he became, and the more he
labored under some vague anxiety and alarm, which increased
as the time passed on and no tidings of Newman Noggs
arrived. After waiting until late in the afternoon, tortured
by various apprehensions and misgivings, and the recollection
of the warning which his nephew had given him when they
last met : the further confirmation of which now presented
itself in one shape of probability, now in another, and haunted
him perpetually ; he left home, and, scarcely knowing why,
save that he was in a suspicious and agitated mood, betook
himself to Snawley's house. His wife presented herself ;
and, of her, Ralph inquired whether her husband was at
home.
" No," she said sharply, " he is not indeed, and I don't
think he will be at home for a very long time ; that's more."
" Do you know who I am ? " asked Ralph.
" Oh yes, I know you ver}^ well ; too well, perhaps, and
perhaps he does too, and sorry am I that I should have to
say it."
" Tell him that I saw him through the window-blind above,
as I crossed the road just now, and that I would speak to
him on business," said Ralph. " Do you hear ? "
760 NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" I hear," rejoined Mrs, Snawley, taking no further notice
of the request.
" I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms
and Scripture phrases," said Ralph, passing quietly by, "but
I nev^er knew she drank before."
" Stop ! You don't come in here," said Mr. Snawley's
better-half, interposing her person, which was a robust one,
in the doorway. " You have said more than enough to him
on business, before now. I always told him what dealing
with you and working out your schemes would come to. It
was either you or the schoolmaster — one of you, or the two
between you — that got the forged letter done ; remember
that ! That wasn't his doing, so don't lay that at his door."
" Hold your tongue, you Jezebel," said Ralph, looking
fearfully round.
" Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak,
Mr. Nickleby," retorted the dame. "Take care that other
people know when to hold their tongues."
" You jade," said Ralph, "if your husband has been idiot
enough to trust you with his secrets, keep them ; keep them,
she-devil that you are I "
" Not so much his secrets as other people's secrets per-
haps," retorted the woman ; " not so much his secrets as
yours. None of your black looks at me ! You'll want 'em
all perhaps for another time. You had better keep 'em."
"Will you," said Ralph, suppressing his passion as well
as he could, and clutching her tightly by the wrist ; " will you
go to your husband and tell him that I know he is at home,
and that 1 must see him ? And will you tell me what it is,
that you and he mean, by this new style of behavior ? "
" No," replied the woman, violently disengaging herself.
"I'll do neither."
" You set me at defiance, do you ? " said Ralph.
" Yes," was the answer. " I do."
For an instant Ralph had his hand raised, as though he
were about to strike her ; but, checking himself, and nodding
his head and muttering as though to assure her he would not
forget this, walked away.
"Thence, he went straight to the inn which Mr. Squeers
frequented, and inquired when he had been there last ; in the
vague hope that, successful or unsuccessful, he might, by this
time, have returned from his mission and be able to assure
him that all was safe. But Mr. Squeers had not been there,
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y 761
for ten days, and all that the people could tell about him was,
that he had left his luggage and his bill.
Disturbed by a thousand fears and surmises, and bent
upon ascertaining whether Squeers had any suspicion of
Snawley, or was, in any way, a party to this altered behavior,
Ralph determined to hazard the extreme step of inquiring for
him at the Lambeth Lodging, and having an interview with
him even there. Bent upon this purpose, and in that mood
in which delay is insupportable, he repaired at once to the
place ; and tjeing, by description, perfectly acquainted with
the situation of his room, crept upstairs and knocked gently
at the door.
Not one, nor two, nor three, nor yet a dozen knocks,
served to convince Ralph, against his wish, that there was
nobody inside. He reasoned that he might be asleep ; and,
listening, almost persuaded himself that he could hear him
breathe. Even when he was satisfied that he could not be
there, he sat patiently on a broken stair and waited ; arguing
that he had gone out upon some slight errand, and must soon
return.
Many feet came up the creaking stairs ; and the step of
some seemed to his listening ear so like that of the man for
whom he waited, that Ralph often stood up to be ready to
address him when he reached the top ; but, one by one, each
person turned off into some room short of the place where he
was stationed ; and at every such disappointment he felt quite
chilled and lonely.
At length he felt it was quite hopeless to remain, and
going down stairs again, inquired of one of the lodgers if he
knew anything of Mr. Squeers's movements — mentioning that
worthy by an assumed name which had been agreed upon
between them. By this lodger he was referred to another,
and by him to some one else, from whom he learnt, that, late
on the previous night, he had gone out hastily with two men,
who had shortly afterwards returned for the old woman who
lived on the same floor ; and that, although the circumstance
had attracted the attention of the informant, he had not
spoken to them at the time, nor made any inquiry afterwards.
This possessed him with the idea that, perhaps, Peg Sli-
derskevv had been apprehended for the robbery, and that Mr.
Squeers, being with her at the time, had been apprehended also,
on suspicion of being a confederate. If this were so, the fact
must be known to Gride ; and to Gride's house he directed
762
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
his steps : now thoroughly alarmed, and fearful that there
were indeed plots afoot, tending to his discomhture and ruin.
Arrived at the usurer's house, he found the windows close
shut, the dingy blinds drawn down : all silent, melancholy,
and deserted. But this was its usual aspect. He knocked —
gently at first — then loud and vigorously. Nobody came.
He wrote a few words in pencil on a card, and having thrust
it under the door was going away, when a noise above, as
though a window-sash were stealthily raised, caught his ear,
and looking up he could just discern the face of Gride himself,
cautiously peering over the house parapet from the window of
the garret. Seeing who was below, he drew it in again ; not
so quickly, however, but that Ralph let him know he was
observed, and called to him to come down.
The call being repeated. Gride looked out again, so
cautiously that no part of the old man's body was visible.
The sharp features and white hair appearing alone, above the
parapet, looked like a severed head garnishing the wall
" Hush ! " he cried. " Go away, go away ! "
" Come down," said Ralph, beckoning him.
"Go a — way!" squeaked Gride, shaking his head in a
sort of ecstasy of impatience. " Don't speak to me, don't
knock, don't call attention to the house, but go away."
" I'll knock, I swear, till I have your neighbors up in
arms," said Ralph, 'if you don't tell me what you mean by
lurking there, you whining cur."
" I can't hear what you say — don't talk to me — it isn't
safe — go away — go away ! " returned Gride.
" Come down, I say. Will you come down ! " said Ralph
fiercely.
"No — o — o — o," snarled Gride. He drew in his head;
and Ralph, left standing in the street, could hear the sash
closed, as gently and carefully as it had been opened.
"Howls this," said he, "that they all fall from me, and
shun me like the plague, these men who have licked the dust
from my feet ! Is my day past, and is this indeed the coming
on of night.? I'll know what it means ! I will, at any cost.
I am lirmer and more myself, just now, than 1 have been
these many days."
Turning from the door, which, in the first transport of his
rage, he had meditated battering upon, until Gride's very
fears should impel him to open it, he turned his face towards
the city, and working his way steadily through the crowd
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 763
which was pouring from it (it was by this time between five
and six o'clock in the afternoon) went straight to the house
of business of the Brothers Cheeryble, and putting liis head
into the glass case, found Tim Linkinwater alone.
" My name's Nickleby," said Ralph.
" I know it," replied Tim, surveying him through his
spectacles.
" Which of your firm was it who called on me this morn-
ing ? " demanded Ralph.
" Mr. Charles."
" Then, tell Mr. Charles I want to see him.''
" You shall see," said Tim, getting off his stool with great
agility, "you shall see, not only Mr. Charles, but Mr, Ned
likewise."
Tim stopped, looked steadily and severely at Ralph,
nodded his head once in a curt manner which seemed to say
there was a little more behind, and vanished. After a short
interval, he returned, and, ushering Ralph into the presence
of the two brothers, remained in the room himself.
" I want to speak to you, who spoke to me this morning,"
said Ralph, pointing out with his finger the man whom he
addressed.
" I have no secrets from my brother Ned, or from Tim
Linkinwater." observed brother Charles quietly.
" I have," said Ralph.
" Mr. Nickleby, sir," said brother Ned, " the matter upon
which my brother Charles called upon you this morning, is
one which is already perfectly well known to us three, and to
others besides, and must unhappily soon become known to a
great many more. He waited upon you, sir, this morning,
alone, as a matter of delicacy and consideration. We feel,
now, that further delicacy and consideration would be mis-
placed ; and, if we confer together, it must be as we are, or
not at all."
"Well, gentlemen," said Ralph, with a curl of the lip,
" talking in riddles would seem to be the peculiar forte of you
two, and I suppose your clerk, like a prudent man, has
studied the art also with a view to your good graces. Talk
in company, gentlemen, in God's name. I'll humor you."
" Humor ! " cried Tim Linkinwater, suddenly growing
very red in the face, " He'll humor us ! He'll humor Cheeryble
Brothers ! Do you hear that .'' Do you hear him .'' Do you
hear him say he'll humor Cheeiyble Brothers ? "
764 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" Tim," said Charles and Ned together, " pray Tim, pray
now, don't."
Tim, taking the hint, stifled his indignation as well as he
could, and suffered it to escape through his spectacles, with
the additional safety valve of a short hysterical laugh now
and then, which seemed to relieve him mightily.
"As nobody bids me to a seat," said Ralph, looking
round, " I'll take one, for I am fatigued with walking. And
now, if you please, gentlemen, I wish to know — 1 demand to
know \ I have the right — what you have to say to me, which
justifies such a tone as you have assumed, and that underhand
interference in my affairs which, I have reason to suppose,
you have been practising. I tell you plainly, gentlemen, that
little as I care for the opinion of the world (as the slang goes),
I don't choose to submit quietly to slander and malice.
Whether you suffer yourselves to be imposed upon, too easily,
or wilfully make yourselves parties to it, the result to me is
the same. In either case, you can't expect from a plain man
like myself much consideration or forbearance."
§0 coolly and deliberately was this said, that nine men
out of ten, ignorant of the circumstances, would have supposed
Ralph to be really an injured man. There he sat, with
folded arms ; paler than usual, certainly, and sulificiently ill-
favored, but quite collected — far more so, than the brothers
or the exasperated Tim — and ready to face out the worst.
"Very well, sir," said brother Charles. "Very well.
Brother Ned, will you ring the bell 1 "
" Charles, my clear fellow ! stop one instant," returned the
other. " It will be better for Mr. Nickleby and for our object,
that he should remain silent if he can, till we have said what
we have to say. I wish him to understand that."
" Quite right, quite right," said brother Charles.
Ralph smiled, but made no reply. The bell was rung ;
the room-door opened ; a man came in, with a halting Avalk ;
and, looking round, Ralph's eyes met those of Newman Noggs.
From that moment, his heart began to fail him.
" This is a good beginning," he said bitterly. " Oh ! this
is a good beginning. You are candid, honest, open-hearted,
fair-dealing men ! I always knew the real worth of such
characters as yours ! To tamper with a fellow like'this, who
would sell his soul (it he had one) for drink, and whose every
word is a lie ! What men are safe if this is done ? Oh it's a
good beginning ! "
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NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 765
"I 7f'/// speak," cried Newman, standing on tiptoe to look
over Tim's head, who had interposed to prevent him. " Hallo,
you sir — old Nickleby ! — what do you mean when you talk of
'a fellow like this ? ' Who made me ' a fellow like this ? ' If
I would sell my soul for drink, why wasn't I a thief, swindler,
housebreaker, area sneak, robber of pence out of the trays of
blind men's dogs, rather than j'our drudge and packhorse ?
If my e\ery word was a lie, why wasn't I a pet and favorite
of yours ? Lie ! When did I e\er cringe and fawn to you ?
Tell me that ! I served you faithfully. I did more work,
because I was poor, and took more hard words from you
because I despised you and them, than any man you could
have got from the parish workhouse. I did. I served you
because I was proud ; because I was a lonely man with you,
and there were no other drudges to see my degradation ;
because nobody knew, better than you, that I was a ruined
man, that I hadn't always been what I am, and that I might
have been better off, if I hadn't been a fool and fallen into
the hands of you and others who were knaves. Do you deny
that ■>. "
"Gently," reasoned Tim, "you said you wouldn't."
" I said I wouldn't ! " cried Newman, thrusting him aside,
and moving his hand as Tim moved, so as to keep him at
arm's-length. " Don't tell me ! Here, you Nickleby ! Don't
pretend not to mind me ; it won't do ; I know better. You
were talking of tampering, just now. Who tampered with
Yorkshire schoolmasters, and, while they sent the drudge out
that he shouldn't overhear, forgot that such great caution
might render him suspicious, and that he might watch his
master out at nights, and might set other eyes to watch the
schoolmaster ? Who tampered with a selfish father, urging
him to sell his daughter to old Arthur Gride, and tampered
with Gride too, and did so in the little office 7£////z a closet in
the room 2 "
Ralph had put a great command upon himself ; but he
could not have suppressed a slight start, if he had been cer-
tain to be beheaded for it next moment.
"Aha!" cried Newman. "You mind me now, do you .''
What first set this fag to be jealous of his master's actions,
and to feel that, if he hadn't crossed him when he might, he
would have been as bad as he, or worse ? That master's cruel
treatment of his own flesh and blood, and vile designs upon
a young girl who interested even his broken-down drunken
766
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
miserable hack, and made him Unger in his service, in the hope
of doing her some good (as, thank God, he had done others,
once or twice before), when he would, otherwise, have relieved
his feelings by pummelling his master soundly, and then go-
ing to the Devil. He would — mark that ; and mark this — that
I'm here now, because these gentlemen thought it best. When
I sought them out (as I did ; there was no tampering with me),
I told them I wanted help to find you out, to trace you down,
to go through with what I had begun, to help the right ; and
that when I had done it, I'd burst into your room and tell you
all, face to face, man to man, and like a man. Now I've said
my say, and let anybody else say theirs, and fire away ! "
With this concluding sentiment, Newmtm Noggs, who had
been perpetually sitting down and getting up again all through
his speech, which he had delivered in a series of jerks ; and
who was, from the violent exercise and the excitement com-
bined, in a state of most intense and fiery heat ; became,
without passing through any intermediate stage, stiff, upright,
and motionless, and so remained, staring at Ralph Nickleby
with all his might and main.
Ralph looked at him, for an instant, and for an instant
only ; then, waved his hand, and beating the ground with his
foot, said in a choking voice :
" Go on, gentlemen, go on ! I'm patient, you see. There's
law to be had, there's law. I shall call you to an account for
this. Take care what you say ; I shall make you prove it."
"The proof is ready," returned Brother Charles, "quite
ready to our hands. The man Snawley, last night, made a
confession."
" Who may 'the man Snawley ' be," returned Ralph, " and
what may his ' confession ' have to do with my affairs ? "
To this inquiry, put with a dogged inflexibility of manner,
the old gentleman returned no answer, but went on to say,
that to show him how much they were in earnest, it wpuld be
necessary to tell him, not only what accusations were made
against him, but what proof of them they had, and how that
proof had been acquired. This laying open of the whole
question, brought up brother Ned, Tim Linkinwater, and New-
man Noggs, all three at once \ who, after a vast deal of talk-
ing together, and a scene of great confusion, laid before Ralph,
in distinct terms, the following statement.
That, Newman, ha\inir been solemnlv assured bv one not
then producible that Smike was not the son of Snawley, and
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 767
this person having offered to make oath to that effect, if neces-
sary, they had by this communication been first led to doubt
the claim set up, which they would otherwise have seen no
reason to dispute ; supported as it was by evidence which they
had no power of disproving. That, once suspecting the exist-
ence of a conspiracy, they had no difficulty in tracing back
its origin to the malice 01 Ralph, and the vindictiveness and
avarice of Squeers. That, suspicion and proof being two
very different things, they had been advised by a lawyer, emi-
nent for his sagacity and acuteness in such practice, to resist
the proceedings taken on the other side for the recovery of
the youth, as slowly and artfully as possible, and meanwhile
to beset Snawley (with whom it was clear the main falsehood
must rest).; to lead him, if possible, into contradictory and
conflicting statements ; to harass him by all available means ;
and so to practice on his fears, and regard for his own safety,
as to induce him to divulge the whole scheme, and to give up
his employer and whomsoever else he could implicate. That
all this had been skilfully done ; but that Snawley, who was
well practised in the arts of low cunning and intrigue, had
successfully baffled all their attempts, until an unexpected cir-
cumstance had brought him, last night, upon his knees.
It thus arose. When Newman Noggs reported that Squeers
was again in town, and that an interview of such secrecy had
taken place between him and Ralph that he had been sent
out of the house, plainly lest he should overhear a word, a
watch was set upon the schoolmaster, in the hope that some-
thing might be discovered which would throw some light upon
the suspected plot. It being found, however, that he held no
further communication with Ralph, nor any with Snawley, and
lived quite alone, they were completely at fault ; the watch
was withdrawn, and they would have observed his motions no
longer, if it had not happened that, one night, Newman
stumbled unobserved on him and Ralph in the street together.
Following them, he discovered, to his surprise, that they re-
paired to various low lodging-houses, and taverns kept by
broken gamblers, to more than one of whom Ralph was known,
and that they were in pursuit — so he found by inquiries when
they had left — of an old woman, whose description exactly
tallied with that of deaf Mrs. Sliderskew. Affairs now appear-
ing to assume a more serious complexion, the watch was re-
newed with increased vigilance ; an officer was procured, who
took up his abode in the same tavern with Squeers ; .-md by
768
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
him and Frank Cheeryble, the footsteps of the unconscious
schoohnaster were clogged, until he was safely housed in the
lodging at Lambeth. Mr. Squeers having shifted his lodging,
the officer shifted his, and lying concealed in the same street,
and, indeed, in the opposite house, soon found that Mr.
Squeers and Mrs. Sliderskew were in constant communication.
In this state of things, Arthur Gride was appealed to.
The robbery, partly owing to the inquisitiveness of the neigh-
bors, and partly to his own grief and rage, had, long ago, be-
come known ; but he positively refused to give his sanction
or yield any assistance to the old woman's capture, and was
seized with such a panic at the idea of being called upon to
give evidence against her, that he shut himself up close, in his
house, and refused to hold communication with anybody.
Upon this, the pursuers took counsel together, and, coming so
near the truth as to arrive at the conclusion that Gride and
Ralph, with Squeers for their instrument, were negotiating for
the recovery of some of the stolen papers which would not
bear the light, and might possibly explain the hints relative to
Madeline which Newman had overheard, resolved that Mrs.
Sliderskew should be taken into custody before she had parted
with them : and Squeers too, if anything suspicious could be
attached to him. Accordingly, a search-warrant being pro-
cured, and all prepared, Mr. Squeers's window was watched,
until his light was put out, and the time arrived when, as had
been previously ascertained, he usually visited Mrs. Sliderskew.
This done, Frank Cheer}.'ble and Newman stole up stairs to
listen to their discourse, and to give the signal to the officer
at the most favorable time. At what an opportune moment
they arrived, how they listened, and what they heard, is already
known to the reader. Mr. Squeers, still half stunned, was
hurried off with a stolen deed in his possession, and Mrs.
Sliderskew was apprehended likewise. The information being
promptly carried to Snawley that Squeers was in custody he
was not told for what — that worthy, first extorting a promise
that he should be kept harmless, declared the whole tale con-
cerning Smike to be a fiction and forgery, and implicated
Ralph^Nickleby to the fullest extent. As to Mr. Squeers, he
had, that morning, undergone a private examination before a
magistrate : and, being unable to account satisfactorily for his
possession of the deed or his companionship with Mrs. Slider-
skew, had been, with her, remanded for a week.
All these discoveries were now related to Ralph, circum-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 7 69
stantially, and in detail. Whatever impression they secretly
produced, he suffered no sign of emotion to escape him, but
sat perfectly still, not raising his frowning eyes from the
ground, and covering his mouth with his hand. When the
narrative was concluded, he raised his head hastily, as if about
to speak, but on brother Charles resuming, fell into his old
attitude again.
"I told you this morning," said the old gentleman, laying
his hand upon his brother's shoulder, " that I came to you in
mercy. How far you may be implicated in this last transaction,
or how far the person who is now in custody may criminate
you, you best know. But, justice must take its course against
the i^arties implicated in the plot against this poor, unoffend-
ing, injured lad. It is not in my power, or in the power of
my brother Ned, to save you from the consequences. The
utmost we can do, is, to warn you in time, and to give you an
opportunity of escaping them. We would not have an old
man like you disgraced and punished by your near relation ;
nor would we have him forget, like you, all ties of blood and
nature. We entreat you — brother Ned, you join me, I know,
in this entreaty, and so, Tim Linkinwater, do you, although
you pretend to be an obstinate dog, sir, and sit there frowning
as if you didn't — we entreat you to retire from London, to take
shelter in some place where you will be safe from the con-
sequences of these wicked designs, and where you may have
time, sir, to atone for them, and to become a better man."
" And do you think," returned Ralph, rising, " and do you
think, you will so easily crush ;;;t' ? Do you think that a
hundred well-arranged plans, or a hundred suborned witnesses,
or a hundred false curs at my heels, or a hundred canting
speeches full of oily words, will move me ? I thank you for
disclosing your schemes, which I am now prepared for. You
have not the man to deal with that you think ; try me ! and
remember that I spit upon your fair words and false dealings,
and dare you — provoke you — taunt you — to do to me the
very worst you can ! "
Thus they parted, for that time ; but the worst had not
come yet.
• 49
770 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER LX.
THE DANGERS THICKEN, AND THE WORST IS TOLD.
Instead of going home, Ralph threw himself into the first
street cabriolet he could find, and, directing the driver towards
the police office of the district in which Mr. Squeers's mis-
fortunes had occurred, alighted at a short distance from it,
and, discharging the man, went the rest of his way thither on
foot. Inquiring for the object of his solicitude, he learnt that
he had timed his visit well ; for Mr. Squeers was, in fact, at
that moment waiting for a hackney-coach he had ordered, and
in which he purposed proceeding to his week's retirement like
a gentleman.
Demanding speech with the prisoner, he was ushered into
a kind of waiting-room in which, by reason of his scholastic
profession and superior respectability, Mr. Squeers had been
permitted to pass the day. Here, by the light of a guttering
and blackened candle, he could barely discern the school-
master, fast asleep on a bench in a remote corner. An empty
glass stood on a table before him, which, with his somnolent
condition and a very strong smell of brandy and water, fore-
warned the visitor that Mr. Squeers had been seeking, in
creature comforts, a temporary forgetfulness of his unpleasant
situation.
It was not a very easy matter to rouse him ; so lethargic
and heavy were his slumbers. Regaining his faculties by slow
and faint glimmerings, he at length sat upright ; and, display-
ing a very yellow face, a very red nose, and a very bristly
beard ; the joint effect of which was considerably heightened
by a dirty white handkerchief, spotted with blood, drawn over
the crown of his head and tied under his chin ; stared ruefully
at Ralph in silence, until his feelings found a vent in this pithy
sentence :
"I say, young fellow, you've been and done it now; you
have ! "
" What's the matter with your head ? " asked Ralph.
" Why, your man, your informing kidnapping man, has
been and broke it," rejoined Squeers sulkily; "that's what's
the matter with it. You've come at last, have you ? "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
771
" Why have you not sent to me ? " said Ralph. " How
could I come till I knew what had befallen you ? "
" My family ! " hiccupped Mr. Squeers, raising his eye to
the ceiling ; '' my daughter, as is at that age when all the
sensibilities is a coming out strong in blow — my son as is the
young Norval of private life, and the pride and ornament of a
doting will age — here's a shock for my family ! The coat of
arms of the Squeerses is tore, and their sun is gone down into
the ocean wave ! "
"You have been drinking," said Ralph, "and have not 3'et
slept yourself sober."
"I haven't been drinking ji'(7?^r health, my codger," replied
Mr. Squeers ; " so you have nothing to do with that."
Ralph suppressed the indignation which the schoolmaster's
altered and insolent manner awakened, and asked again why
he had not sent to him.
" What should I get by sending to you ? " returned Squeers.
" To be known to be in with you, wouldn't do me a deal of
good, and they won't take bail till they know something more
of the case, so here am I hard and fast ; and there are you,
loose and comfortable."
" And so must you be, in a few days," retorted Ralph, with
affected good humor. "They can't hurt you, man."
" Why, I suppose they can't do much to me, if I explain how
it was that I got into the good company of that there ca-daver-
ous old Slider," replied Squeers viciously, " who I wish was
dead and buried, and resurrected and dissected, and hung
upon wires in a anatomical museum, before ever I'd had any-
thing to do with her. This is what him with the powdered
head says this morning, in so many words : ' Prisoner ! As
you have been found in companv with this woman ; as you
were detected in possession of this document ; as you were
engaged with her in fraudulently destroying others, and can
give no satisfactory account of yourself ; I shall remand you
for a week, in order that inquiries may be made, and evidence
got. And meanwhile I can't take any bail for your appearance.'
Well then, what I say now, is, that I can give a satisfactory
account of myself ; I can hand in the card of my establish-
ment and say, ' / am the Wackford Squeers as is therein
named, sir. I am the man as is guaranteed, by unimpeach-
able references, to be a out-and-outer in morals and upright-
ness of principle. Whatever is wrong in this business is no
fault of mine. I had no evil design in it, sir. I was not aware
772
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
that anything was wrong. I was merely employed by a friend
my friend Mr. Ralph Nickleby, of Golden Square, Send for
him, sir, and ask him what he has to say ; he's the man ; not
me ! '"
"What document was it that you had?" asked Ralph,
evading, for the moment, the point just raised.
" What document .'' Why, the document," replied Squeers.
" The Madeline what's-her-name one. It was a will ; that's
what it was."
" Of what nature, whose will, when dated, how benefiting
her, to what extent ? " asked Ralph hurriedly.
" A will in her favor ; that's all 1 know," rejoined Squeers,
"and that's more than you'd have known, if you'd had them
bellows on your head. It's all owing to your precious caution
that they got hold of it. If you had let me burn it, and taken
my word that it was gone, it would have been a heap of ashes
behind the fire, instead of being whole and sound, inside of
my great-coat."
" Beaten at every point ! " muttered Ralph.
" Ah ! " sighed Squeers, who, between the brandy and
water and his broken head, wandered strangely, " at the de-
lightful village of Dotheboys near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire,
youth are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with
pocket-money, provided with all necessaries, instructed in all
languages living and dead, mathematics, orthography, geome-
try, astronomy, trigonometry — this is a altered state of trigo-
nomics, this is ! A double 1 — all, everything — a cobbler's
weapon. U-p-up, adjective, not down. S-q-u-double-e-r-s-
Squeers, noun substantive, a educator of youth. Total, all up
with Squeers ! "
His running on, in this way, had afforded Ralph an op-
portunity of recovering his presence of mind, which at once
suggested to him the necessity of removing, as far as possible,
the schoolmaster's misgivings, and leading him to believe
that his safety and best policy lay in the preservation of a
ri2:id silence.
" I tell you, once again," he said, " they can't hurt you.
You shall have an action for false imprisonment, and make a
profit of this, yet. We will devise a story for you that should
carry you through twenty times such a trivial scrape as this ;
and if they want security in a thousand pounds for your reap-
pearance in case you should be called upon, you shall have
it. All you have to do, is, to keep back the truth. You're a
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
773
little fuddled to-night, and may not be able to see this as
clearly as you would at another time ; but this is what you
must do, and you'll need all your senses about you ; for a slip
misfht be awkward."
"Oh," said Squeers, who had looked cunningly at him,
with his head stuck on one side, like an old raven. " That's
what I'm to do, is it ? Now then, just you hear a word or
two from me. I an't a going to have any stories made for
me, and I aa't a going to stick to any. If I find matters
going again me, I shall expect you to take your share, and I'll
take care you do. You never said anything about danger. I
never bargained for being brought into such a plight as this,
and I don't mean to take it as quiet as you think. I let you
lead me on, from one thing to another, because we had been
mixe 1 up together in a certain sort of a way, and if you had
liked to be ill-natured you might perhaps have hurt the busi-
ness, and if you liked to be good-natured you might throw a
good deal in my way. Well ; if all goes right now, that's
quite correct, and I don't mind it ; but if anything goes wrong,
then, times are altered, and I shall just say and do whatever
I think may serve me most, and take advice from nobody.
My moral influence with them lads," added Mr. Squeers, with
deeper gravity, " is a tottering to its basis. The images of
Mrs. Squeers, my daughter, and my son Wackford, all short
of vittles, is perpetually before me ; every other consideration
melts away and vanishes, in front of these ; the only number
in all arithmetic that I know of as a husband and a father, is
number one, under this here most fatal go ! "
How long Mr. Squeers might have declaimed, or how
stormy a discussion his declamation might have led to, no-
body knows. Being interrupted at this point, by the arrival
of the coach and an attendant who was to bear him company,
he perched his hat with great dignity on the top of the hand-
kerchief that bound his head ; and, thrusting one hand in his
pocket, and taking the attendant's arm with the other, suf-
fered himself to be led forth.
" As I supposed from his not sending ! " thought Ralph.
" This fellow, I plainly see through all this tipsy fooling, has
made up his mind to turn upon me. I am so beset and
hemmed in, that they are, not only all struck with fear, but,
like the beasts in the fable, have their fling at me now, though
time was, and no longer ago than yesterday too, when they
were all civility and compliance. But they shall not move
me. I'll not give way. I will not budge one inch ! "
774
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
He went home, and was glad to find his housekeeper
complaining of illness that he might have an excuse for being
alone and sending her away to where she lived : which was
hard by. Then, he sat down by the light of a single candle,
and began to think, for the first time, on all that had taken
place that day.
He had neither eaten nor drunk since last night, and, in
addition to the anxiety of mind he had undergone, had been
travelling about, from place to place almost incessantly, for
many hours. He felt sick arid exhausted, but could taste noth-
ing save a glass of water, and continued to sit with his head
upon his hand ; not resting or thinking, but laboriously try-
ing to do both, and feeling that every sense but one of weari- _
ness and desolation, was for the time benumbed.
It was nearly ten o'clock when he heard a knocking at the
door, and still sat quiet as before, as if he could not even
bring his thoughts to bear upon that. It had been often re-
peated, and he had, several times, heard a voice outside, say-
ing there was a light in the window (meaning, as he knew, his
own candle), before he could rouse himself and go down
stairs.
" Mr. Nickleby, there is terrible news for you, and I am
sent to beg you will come with me directly," said a voice he
seemed to recognize. He held his hand above his eyes, and,
looking out, saw Tim Linkinwater on the steps.
" Come where .'' " demanded Ralph.
" To our house, where you came this morning. I have a
coach here."
" Why should I come there ? " said Ralph.
" Don't ask me why, but pray come with me."
" Another edition of to-day ! " returned Ralph, making as
though he would shut the door.
" No, no ! " cried Tim, catching him by the arm and speak-
ing most earnestly ; " it is only that you may hear something
that has occurred : something very dreadful, Mr. Nickleby,
which concerns you nearly. Do you think I would tell you
so, or come to you like this, if it were not the case ? "
Ralph looked at him more closely. Seeing that he was
indeed greatly excited, he faltered, and could not tell what to
say or think.
" You had better hear this, now, than at any other time,"
said Tim, " it may have some influence with you. For Heav-
en's sake come ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 775
Perhaps, at another time, Ralph's obstinacy and dislil<e.
would have been proof against any appeal from such a quar-
ter, however emphatically urged ; but now, after a moment's
hesitation, he went into the hall for his hat, and returning,
got into the coach without speaking a word.
Tim well remembered afterwards, and often said, that as
Ralph Nickleby went into the house for this purpose, he saw
him, by the light of the candle which he had set down upon a
chair, reel and stagger like a drunken man. He well remem-
bered, ~too7TTiat\vhen"he"tnni placed his foot upon the coach-
steps, he turned round and looked upon him with a face so
_asli^_.pale and so very wild and vacant that it made him
shudder, and for the moment almost afraid to follow. People
were fond of saying that he had some dark presentiment upon
him then, but his emotion might, perhaps, with greater show
of reason, be referred to what he had undergone that day.
A profound silence was observed during the ride. Arrived
at their place of destination, Ralph followed his conductor
into the house, and into a room where the two brothers were.
He was so astounded, not to say awed, by something of a
mute compassion for himself which was visible in their manner
and in that of the old clerk, that he could scarcely speak.
Having taken a seat, however, he contrived to say, though
in broken words, " What — what have you to say to me — more
than has been said already t "
The room w^as old and large, very^ imperfectly lighted, and
terminated in a bay window : about which, hung some heavy
drapery. Casting his eyes in this direction, as he spoke, he
thought he made out the dusky figure of a man. He was con-
firmed in this impression by seeing that the object moved, as
if uneasy under his scrutiny.
" Who's that yonder ? " he said.
" One who has conveyed to us, within these tvvo hours,
the intelligence which caused our sending to you," replied
brother Charles. " Let him be, sir, let him be for the pres-
ent."
" More riddles ! " said Ralph, faintly. " Well, sir ? "
In turning his face towards the brothers he was obliged to
avert it from the window ; but, before either of them could
speak, he had looked round again. It was e\ident that he was
rendered restless and uncomfortable by the presence of the un-
seen person ; for he repeated this action several times, and at
length, as if in a nervous state which rendered him positively
776
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
unable to turn away from the place, sat so as to have it
opposite him, muttering as an excuse that he could not bear
the light.
The brothers conferred apart for a short time : their man-
ner showing that they were agitated. Ralph glanced at them,
twice or thrice, and ultimately said, with a great effort to re-
cover his self-possession, " Now, what is this ? If I am brought
from home at this time of night, let it be for something.
What have you got to tell me ? " After a short pause, he
added, " Is my niece dead 1 "
He had struck upon a key which rendered the task of
commencement an easier one. Brother Charles turned, and
said that it was a death of which they had to tell him, but
that his niece was well.
" You don't mean to tell me," said Ralph, as his eyes
brightened, " that her brother's dead. No, that's too good.
I'd not believe it, if you told me so. It"woaMbe too welcome
news to be true."
"""" "Shame on you, you hardened and unnatural man," cried
the other brother, warmly ; " prepare yourself for intelligence,
which, if you have any human feeling in your breast, will make
even you shrink and tremble. What if we tell you that a
poor unfortunate boy : a child in everything but never having
known one of those tender endearments, or one of those light-
some hours which made our childhood a time to be remem-
bered like a happy dream through all our after life : a warm-
hearted, harmless, affectionate creature, who never offended
you, or did you wrong, but on whom you have vented the
malice and hatred you have conceived for your nephew, and
whom you have made an instrument for Avreaking your bad
passions upon him : what if we tell you that, sinking under
your persecution, sir, and the misery and ill-usage of a life
short in years but long in suffering, this poor creature has
gone to tell his sad tale where, for your part in it, you must
surely answer ? "
" If you tell me," said Ralph ; " if you tell me that he is
dead, I forgive you all else. If you tell me that he is dead, I
am in your debt and bound to you for life. He is ! I see it
in your faces. Who triumphs now ? Is this your dreadful
news, this your terrible intelligence .'' You see how it moves
me. You did well to send. 1 would have travelled a hundred
miles a-foot, through mud, mire, and darkness, to hear this
news just at this time."
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
777
Even then, moved as he was by this savage joy, Ralph
could see in the faces of the two brothers, mingling with their
look of disgust and horror, something of that indefinable com-
passion for himself which he had noticed before.
"And he brought you the intelligence, did he?" said
Ralph, pointing with his finger towards the recess already
mentioned ; " and sat there, no doubt, to see me prostrated
and overwhelmed by it ! Ha, ha, ha ! But I tell him that I'll
be a sharp thorn in his side for many a long day to come ;
and I tell you two, again, that you don't know him yet ; and
that you'll rue the day you took compassion on the vagabond."
"You take me for your nephew," said a hollow voice;
" it would be better for you and for me too, if I were he in-
deed."
The figure that he had seen so dimly, rose, and came
slowly down. He started back, for he found that he confron-
ted— not Nicholas, as he had supposed, but Brooker.
Ralph had no reason, that he knew, to fear this man ; he
had never feared him before ; but the pallor which had been
observed in his face when he issued forth that night, came
upon him again. He was seen to tremble, and his voice
changed as he said, keeping his eyes upon him,
" What does this fellow here .-' Do you know he is a
convict, a felon, a common thief ! "
" Hear what he has to tell you. Oh, Mr. Nickleby, hear
what he has to tell you, be he what he may ! " cried the
brothers, with such emphatic earnestness, that Ralph turned
to them in wonder. They pointed to Brooker. Ralph again
gazed at him : as it seemed mechanically.
" That boy," said the man, "that these gentlemen have
been talking of — "
" That boy," repeated Ralph looking vacantly at him.
" Whom I saw, stretched dead and cold upon his bed, and
who is now in his grave "
"Who is now in his grave," echoed Ralph, like one who
talks in his sleep.
The man raised his eyes, and clasped his hands solemnly
together :
" Was your only son, so help me God in heaven ! " "
In the midst of a dead silence, Ralph sat down, pressing
his two hands upon his temples. He removed them, after a
minute, and never was there seen, part of a living man undis-
figured by any wound, such a ghastly face as he then disclosed.
778 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
He looked at Brooker, who was by this time standing at a short
distance from him ; but did not say one word, or make the
slightest sound or gesture.
" Gentlemen," said the man, " I offer no excuses for my-
self. I am long past that. If, in telling you how this has
happened, I tell you that I was harshly used and perhaps
driven out of my real nature, I do it, only as a necessary part
of my story, and not to shield myself. I am a guilty man."
He stopped, as if to recollect, and looking away from
Ralph, and addressing himself to the brothers, proceeded in
a subdued and humble tone :
" Among those who once had dealings with this man, gen-
tlemen— that's from twenty to five-and-twenty \'ears ago, there
was one : a rough fox-hunting, hard drinking gentleman, who
had run through his own fortune, and wanted to squander
away that of his sister ; they were both orphans, and she
lived with him and managed his house. I don't know whether
it was, originally, to back his influence and try to over-per-
suade the young woman or not, but he," pointing to Ralph,
" used to go down to the house in Leicestershire pretty often,
and stop there many days at a time. They had had a great
many dealings together, and he may have gone, on some of
those, or to patch up his client's affairs, which were in a ruin-
ous state ; of course he went for profit. The gentlewoman
was not a girl, but she was, I have heard say, handsome, and
entitled to a pretty large property. In course of time, he
married her. The same love of gain which led him to contract
this marriage, led to its being kept strictly private ; for a
clause in her father's will declared that if she married without
her brother's consent, the property, in which she had only some
life interest while she remained single, should pass away alto-
gether to another branch of the family. The brother would
give no consent that the sister didn't buy, and pay for hand-
somely ; Mr. Nickleby would consent to no such sacrifice ; and
so, they went on keeping their marriage secret, and waiting
for the brother to break his neck or die of a fever. He did
neither, and meanwhile the result of this private marriage was
f a son. The child was put out to nurse, a long way off ; his
I mother never saw him but once or twice and then by stealth ;
I and his father — so eagerly did he thirst after the money which
j seemed to come almost within his grasp now, for his brother-
j in-law was very ill, and breaking more and more every day —
/^ever went near him, to avoid raising suspicion. The brother
*••
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 779
lingered on; Mr. Nickleby's wife constantly urged him to
avow their marriage ; he peremptorily refused. She remained
alone in a dull country house : seeing litde or no company but
riotous, drunken sportsmen. He lived in London and clung
to his business. Angry quarrels and recriminations took
place, and when they had been married nearly seven years,
and were within a few weeks of the time when the brother's
death would have adjusted all, she eloped with a younger man,
and left him."
Here he paused, but Ralph did not stir, and the brothers
signed to him to proceed.
" It was then that I became acquainted with these circum-
stances from his own lips. They were no secrets then ; for
the brother, and others, knew them ; but they were communi-
cated to me, not on this account, but because I was wanted.
He followed the fugitives. Some said, to make money of his
wife's shame, but, I believe, to take some violent revenge, for
that was as much his character as the other ; perhaps more.
He didn't find them, and she died not long after. I don't
know whether he began to think he might like the child, or
whether he wished to make sure that it should never fall into
its mother's hands ; but before he went, he entrusted me
with the charge of bringing it home. And I did so."
He went on, from this point, in a still more humble tone,
and spoke in a very low voice ; pointing to Ralph as he re-
sumed.
" He had used me ill — cruelly — I reminded him in what,
not long ago when I met him in the street — and I hated him.
I brought the child home to his own house and lodged him in
the front garret. Neglect had made him very sickly, and I
was obliged to call in a doctor, who said he must be removed
for change of air, or he would die. I think that first put it
in my head. I did it then. He was gone six weeks, and
when he came back, I told him — with every circumstance well
planned and proved ; nobody could have suspected me — that
the child was dead and buried. Jtie, might have been disap-
pointed in some intention he had formed, or he might have
had some natural affection, but he was gric\ed at that, and I
was confirmed in mv de-^ign of opening up the secret one day,
and^riiakThg it a means of getting money from him. I had heard,
like most other meii, of Yorkshire schools. I took the child
to one~kept "by^ a man* named Squeers, and left it there. I
gave him the name of Smike. Year by year, I paid twenty
780
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
pounds a-year for him for six years : never breathing the
secret all the time : for I had left his father's service after
more hard usage, and quarrelled with him again. I was sent
away from this country. I have been away nearly eight years.
Directly I came home again, I travelled down into Yorkshire,
and, skulking in the village of an evening time, made inquiries
about the boys at the school, and found that this one, whom
I had placed' there, had run away with a young man bearing
the name of his own father. I sought his father out in Lon-
don, and hinting at what I could tell him, tried for a little
money to support life ; but he repulsed me with threats. I
then found out his clerk, and, going on from little to little,
and showing him that there were good reasons for communi-
cating with me, learnt what was going on ; and it was I who
told him that the boy was no son of the man who claimed to
be his father. All this time I had never seen the boy. At
length, I heard from this same source that he was very ill,
and where he was. I travelled down there, that I might
recall myself, if possible, to his recollection and confirm my
stor)\ I came upon him unexpectedly ; but before I could
speak he knew me (he had good cause to remember me, poor
lad !) and I would have sworn to him if I had met him in the
Indies. I knew the piteous face I had seen in the little child.
After a few days' indecision, I applied to the young gentleman
in whose care he was, and I found that he was dead. He
knows how quickly he recognized me again, how often he had
described me and my leaving him at the school, and how he
told him of a garret he recollected : which is the one I have
spoken of, and in his father's house to this day. This is my
story. I demand to be brought face to face with the school-
master, and put to any possible proof of any part of it, and I
will show that it's too true, and that I have this guilt upon
my soul."
" Unhappy man ! " said the brothers. "What reparation
can you make for this ? "
" None, gentlemen, none ! I have none to make, and
nothing to hope now. I am old in years, and older still in
misery and care. This confession can bring nothing upon me
but new suffering and punishment \ but I make it, and will
abide by it whatever comes. I have been made the instru-
ment of working out this dreadful retribution upon the head
of a man who, in the hot pursuit of his bad ends, has perse-
cuted and hunted down his own child to death. It must de-
NICHOLAS iVICKLEB V. 78 1
scend upon me too. I know it must fall. My reparation
comes too late ; and, neither in this world nor in the next,
can I have hope again ! "
He had hardly spoken, when the lamp which stood upon
the table close to where Ralph was seated, and which was the
only one in the room, was thrown to the ground, and left them
in darkness. There was some trifling confusion in obtaining
another light ; the interval was a mere nothing; but when the
light appeared, Ralph Nickleby was gone.
The good brothers and Tim Linkinwater occupied some
time in discussing the probability of his return ; and when it
became apparent that he would not come back, they hesitated
whether or no to send after him. At length, remembering
how strangely and silently he had sat in one immovable posi-
tion during the interview, and thinking he might possibly be
ill, they determined, although it was now very late, to send to
his house on some pretence. Finding an excuse in the pres-
ence of Brooker, whom they knew not how to dispose of
without consulting his washes, they concluded to act upon
this resolution before going to bed.
CHAPTER LXI.
WHEREIN NICHOLAS AND HIS SISTER FORFEIT THE GOOD
OPINION OF ALL WORLDLY AND PRUDENT PEOPLE.
On the next morning after Brooker's disclosure had been
made, Nicholas returned home. The meeting between him
and those whom he had left there, was not without strong
emotion on both sides ; for they had been informed by his
letters of what had occurred : and, besides that his griefs were
theirs, they mourned with him the death of one whose forlorn
and helpless state had first established a claim upon their
compassion, and whose truth of heart and grateful earnest
nature had, every day, endeared him to them more and more.
" I am sure," said Mrs. Nickleby, wiping her eyes, and
sobbing bitterly, " I have lost the best, the most zealous, and
most attentive creature, that has ever been a companion to
me in my life — putting you, my dear Nicholas, and Kate, and
782 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
r^our poor papa, and that well-behaved nurse who ran away
1 with the linen and twelve small forks, out of the question, of
/ course. Of all the tractable, equal-tempered, attached, and
faithful beings that ever lived, I believe he was the most so.
To look round upon the garden, now, that he took so mupli
pride in, or to go into his room and see it filled with so many
of those little contrivances for our comfort that he was so
fond of making, and made so well, and so little thought he
Avould leave unfinished — I can't bear it, I cannot really. Ah !
This is a great trial to me, a great trial. It will be a comfort
to you, my dear Nicholas, to the end of your life, to recollect
how kind and good you always were to him — so it will be to
me, to think what excellent terms we were always upon, and
how fond he always was of me, poor fellow ! It was very
natural you should have been attached to him, my dear — very
— and of course you were, and are very much cut up by this.
I am sure it's only necessary to look at you and see how
changed you are, to see that ; but nobody knows what my
feelings are — nobody can — it's quite impossible ! "
While Mrs. Nickleby, with the utmost sincerity, gave vent
to her sorrows after her own peculiar fashion of considering
herself foremost, she was not the only one who indulged such
feelings. Kate, although well accustomed to forget herself
when others were to be considered, could not repress her
grief ; Madeline was scarcely less moved than she ; and poor,
hearty, honest, little Miss La Creevy, who had come upon
one of her visits while Nicholas was away, and had done
nothing, since the sad news arrived, but console and cheer
them all, no sooner beheld him coming in at the door, than
she sat herself down upon the stairs, and bursting into a flood
of tears refused for a long time to be comforted.
" It hurts me so," cried the poor body, " to see him come
back alone. I can't help thinking what he must have suffered
himself. I wouldn't mind so much if he gave way a little
more ; but he bears it so manfullv."
" Why, so I should," said Nicholas, " should I not ? "
"Yes, yes," replied the little woman, "and bless you for
a good creature ! but this does seem at first to a simple soul
like me — I know it's wrong to say so, and I shall be sorry for
it presently — this does seem such a poor reward for all you
have done."
" Nay," said Nicholas gently, " what better reward could
I have, than the knowledge that his last days were peaceful
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 783
and happy, and the recollection that I was his constant com-
panion, and was not prevented, as I might have been by a hun-
dred circumstances, from being beside him ? "
" To be sure," sobbed Miss La Creevy ; "it's ver}- true,
and I'm an ungrateful, impious, wicked little fool, I know."
With that, the good soul fell to cr)ing afresh, and, en-
deavoring to recover herself, tried to laugh. The laugh and
the cry meeting each other thus abruptly, had a struggle for
the mastery ; the result was, that it was a drawn battle, and
Miss La Creevy went into hysterics.
Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed
again, Nicholas, who stood in need of some rest after his long
journey, retired to his own room, and throwing himself, dressed
as he was, upon the bed, fell into a sound sleep. When he
awoke, he found Kale sitting by his bed-side, who, seeing
that he had opened his eyes, stooped down to kiss him.
" I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home
again."
" But I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate."
" We have been wearying so, for your return," said Kate,
" mama and I, and — and Madeline."
" You said in your last letter that she was quite well,"
said Nicholas, rather hastily, and coloring as he spoke.
" Has nothing been said, since I have been away, about any
future arrangements that the brothers have in contemplation
for her?"
" Oh, not a word," replied Kate, " I can't think of part-
ing from her without sorrow ; and surely, Nicholas, you don't
wish it ! "
Nicholas colored again, and, sitting down beside his sister
on a little couch near the window, said :
" No, Kate, no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my
real feelings from anvbody but you ; but 1 will tell you that
— briefly and plainly, Kate — that I love her."
Kate's eyes brightened, and she was going to make some
reply, when Nicholas laid his hand upon her arm, and went
on :
" Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all."
" Dear Nicholas ! "
" Last of all ; never, though never is a long day. Some-
times. Xxy to think that the time may come when I may honestly
tell her this ; but it is so far off, in such distant perspective, so
many years must elapse before it comes, and when it does come
784
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
(if ever) I shall be so unlike what I am now, and shall have so
outlived my days of youth and romance — though not, I am sure,
of love for her — that even 1 feel how visionary all such hopes
must be, and try to crush them rudely, myself, and have the
pain over, rather than suffer time to wither them, and keep
the disappointment in store. No, Kate ! Since I have been
absent, 1 have had, in that poor fellow who is gone, perpetu-
ally before my eyes, another instance of the munificent liber-
ality of these noble brothers. As far as in me lies, I will de-
serve it, and if I have wavered in my bounden duty to them be-
fore, I am now determined to discharge it rigidly, and to put
further delays and temptations beyond my reach."
" Before you say another word, dear Nicholas," said Kate,
turning pale, "you must hear' what I have to tell you. I
came oh purpose, but I had not the courage. What you say
now gives me new heart." She faltered, and burst into tears.
There was that, in her manner, which prepared Nicholas
for what was coming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears pre-
vented her.
" Come you foolish girl," said Nicholas ; " why Kate,
Kate, be a woman ! I think I know what you would tell me.
It concerns Mr. Frank, does it not .-' "
Kate sunk her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out
"Yes."
" And he has offered you his hand, perhaps since I have
been away," said Nicholas ; " is that it t Yes. Well, well ;
it's not so difficult, you see, to tell me, after all. He offered
you his hand .'' "
" Which I refused," said Kate.
" Yes ; and why ? "
" I told him," she said, in a trembling voice, " all that I have
since found you told mama ; and while I could not conceal
from him, and cannot from you that, that it was a pang and a
great trial, I did so, firmly, and begged him not to see me any
more."
" That's my own brave Kate ! " said Nicholas, pressing her
to his breast. " I knew you would."
" He tried to alter my resolution," said Kate, "and de-
clared that, be my decision what it might, he would not only
inform his uncles of the step he had taken, but would com-
municate it to you also, directly you returned. I am afraid,"
she added ; her momentary composure forsaking her, " I am
afraid I may not have said, strongly enough, how deeply I felt
NICHOLAS NJCKLEBY. 785
such disinterested love, and how earnestly I prayed for his
future happiness. If you do talk together, I should — I should
like him to know that."
" And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this
sacrifice to what you knew was right and honorable, that I
should shrink from mine 'i " said Nicholas tenderly.
" Oh, no ! not if your position had been the same, but — "
" But it is the same," interrupted Nicholas ; " Madeline is
not the near relation of our benefactors, but she is closely
bound to them by ties as dear ; and I was first entrusted with
her history, specially because they reposed unbounded confi-
dence in me, and believed that I was as true as steel. How
base would it be of me to take advantage of the circumstances
which placed her here, or of the slight service I was happily
able to render her, and to seek to engage her affections when
the result must be, if I succeeded, that the brothers would be
disappointed in their darling wish of establishing her as their
own child, and that I must seem to hope to build my fortunes
on their compassion for the young creature whom I had so
meanly and unworthily entrapped : turning her vtxy gratitude
and warmth of heart to my own purpose and account, and
trading in her misfortunes ! I, too, whose duty, and pride,
and pleasure, Kate, it is, to have other claims upon me which
I will never forget : and who have the means of a comfortable
and happy life already, and have no right to look beyond it !
I have determined to remove this weight from my mind. I
doubt whether I have not done wrong, even now \ and to-
day I will without reserve or equivocation, disclose my real
reasons to Mr. Cheeryble, and implore him to take immediate
measures for removing this young lady to the shelter of some
other roof."
" To-day ? so ver^' soon ! "
*' I have thought of this, for weeks, and why should I post-
pone it ? If the scene through which I have just passed, has
taught me to reflect, and has awakened me to a more anxious
and careful sense of duty, why should I wait until the im-
pression has cooled ? You would not dissuade me Kate ; now
would you ? "
" You may grow rich, you know," said Kate.
" I may grow rich ! " repeated Nicholas, with a mournful
smile, " ay, and I may grow old ! But rich or poor, or old or
young, we shall ever be the same to each other, and in that
our comfort lies. What if we have but one home ? It can
50
786 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,
never be a solitary one to you and me. What if we were to
remain so true to these first impressions as to form no others ?
It is but one more Unk to the strong chain that binds us together.
It seems but yesterday that we were playfellows, Kate, and it
will seem but to-morrow when we are staid old people, looking
back to these cares as we lookback now to those of our child-
ish days : and recollecting with a melancholy pleasure that
the time was, when they could move us. Perhaps then, when
we are quaint old folks and talk of the times when our step
was lighter and our hair not gray, we may be even thankful
for the trials that "so endeared us to each other, and turned
jOur lives into that current, down which we shall have glided
so peacefully and calmly. And having caught some inkling
of our story, the young people about us — as young as you and
\I are now, Kate — may come to us for sympathy, and pour
Mistresses which hope and inexperience could scarcely feel
^ enough for, into the compassionate ears of the old bachelor
\ brother and his maiden sister."
Kate smiled through her tears, as Nicholas drew this pic-
ture ; but they were not tears of sorrow, although they con-
tinued to fall when he had ceased to speak.
" Am I not right, Kate ? " he said, after a short silence.
" Quite, quite, dear brother ; and I cannot tell you how
happy I am, that I have acted as you would have had me."
" You don't regret ? "
"N — n — no," said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern'
upon the ground with her little foot. " I don't regret having
done what was honorable and right, of course ; but I do
regret that this should have ever happened — at least some-
times I regret it, and sometimes I — I don't know what I say ;
I am but a weak girl, Nicholas, and it has agitated me v^rj
much."
It is no vaunt to affirm that if Nicholas had had ten thou-
sand pounds at the minute, he would, in his generous affec-
tion for the owner of the blushing cheek and downcast eye,
have bestowed its utmost farthing, in perfect forgetfulness of
himself, to secure her happiness. But all he could do was to
comfort and console her by kind words ; and words they were
of such love and kindness, and cheerful encouragement, that
poor Kate threw her arms about his neck, and declared she
would weep no more.
"What man," thought Nicholas proudly, while on his way,
soon afterwards, to the brothers' house, " would not be suffi-
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 787
ciently rewarded for any sacrifice of fortune, by the possession
of such a heart as Kate's, which, but that hearts weigh light,
and gold and silver heavy, is beyond all praise ! Frank has
money and wants no more. Where would it buy him such a /
treasure as Kate ! And yet, in unequal marriages, the rich (
party is always supposed to make a great sacrifice, and the /
other to get a good bargain ? But I am thinking like a j
lover, or like an ass : which I suppose is pretty nearly the I
same." J
Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on
which he was bound, by such self-reproofs as this and many
others no less sturdy, he proceeded on his way and presented
himself before Tim Linkinwater.
" Ah ! Mr. Nickleby ! " cried Tim, " God bless you ! How
d'ye do ! Well ? Say you're quite well and never'better. Do
now."
" Quite," said Nicholas, shaking him by both hands.
" Ah ! " said Tim, " you look tired though, now I come to
look at you. Hark ! there he is, d'ye hear him ? That was
Dick, the blackbird. He hasn't been himself, since 3'ou"ve
been gone. He'd never get on without you, now ; he takes
as naturally to you, as he does to me."
" Dick is a far less sagacious fellow than I supposed him,
if he thinks I am half so well worthy of his notice as you,"
replied Nicholas.
"Why, I'll tell you what, sir," said Tim, standing in his
favorite attitude and pointing to the cage with the feather of
his pen, "it's a ver}' extraordinar}^ thing about that bird, that
the only people he ever takes the smallest notice of, are Mr.
Charles, and Mr. Ned, and you and me."
Here, Tim stopped and glanced anxiously at Nicholas ;
then unexpectedly catching his eyes repeated, " And you and
me, sir, and you and me." And then he glanced at Nicholas
again, and squeezing his hand, said, " I am a bad one at put-
ting: off anvthins: I am interested in. I didn't mean to ask
you, but 1 should like to hear a few particulars about that
poor boy. Did he mention Cheeryble Brothers at all t ''
" Yes," said Nicholas, "many and many a time."
" That was right of him," returned Tim, wiping his eyes ;
" that was very right of him."
" And he mentioned your name a score of times," said
Nicholas, "and often bade me carry back his love to Mr.
Linkinwater,"
788
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" No, no, did he though ? " rejoined Tim, sobbing outright
" Poor fellow ! " I wish we could have had him buried in town.
There isn't such a burying-ground in all London, as that little
one on the other side of the square — there are counting-houses
all round it, and if you go in there, on a fine day, you can see
the books and safes through the open windows. And he sent
his love to me, did he ? I didn't expect he would have thought
of me. Poor fellow, poor fellow ! His love too ! "
Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of
recollection, that he was quite unequal to any more conversa-
tion at the moment. Nicholas therefore slipped quietly out,
and went to brother Charles's room.
If he had previously sustained his firmness and fortitude,
it had been by an effort which had cost him no little pain ;
but the warm welcome, the hearty manner, the homely unaf-
fected commiseration, of the good old man, went to his heart,
and no inward struggle could prevent his showing it.
" Come, come, my dear sir," said the benevolent merchant ;
" we must not be cast down ; no, no. We must learn to bear
misfortune, and we must remember that there are many sources
of consolation even in death. Ever}' day that this poor lad had
lived, he must have been less and less qualified for the world,
and more and more unhappy in his own deficiencies. It is
better as it is, my dear sir. Yes, yes, yes, it's better as it is.''
" I have thought of all that, sir," replied Nicholas, clear-
ing his throat. " I feel it, I assure you."
" Yes, that's well," replied Mr. Cheeryble, who, in the
midst of all his comforting, was quite as much taken aback as
honest old Tim; "that's well. Where is my brother Ned .^
Tim Linkinwater, sir, where is my brother Ned ? "
" Gone out with Mr. Trimmers, about getting that unfor-
tunate man into the hospital, and sending a nurse to his chil-
dren," said Tim.
" My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow ! " ex-
claimed brother Charles as he shut the door and returned to
Nicholas. " He will be overjoyed to see you, my dear sir.
We have been speaking of you every day."
" To tell you the truth, sir, I am glad to find you alone,"
said Nicholas, with some natural hesitation ; " for I am anxious
to say something to you. Can you spare me a very few min-
utes } "
" Surely, surely," returned brother Charles, looking at him
with an anxious countenance. " Say on, my dear sir, say on,"
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 789
" I scarcely know how, or where to begin," said Nicholas.
" If ever one mortal had reason to be penetrated with love
and reverence for another : with such attachment as would
make the hardest service in his behalf a pleasure and delight .
with such grateful recollections as must rouse the utmost zeal
and fidelity of his nature : those are the feelings which I
should entertain for you, and do, from my heart and soul, be-
lieve me ! "
" I do believe you," replied the old gentleman, " and I
am happy in the belief. I have never doubted it ; I never
shall. I am sure I never shall."
" Your telling me that, so kindly," said Nicholas, " em-
boldens me to proceed. When you first took me into your
confidence, and despatched me on those missions to Miss
Bray, I should have told you that I had seen her, long before ;
that her beauty had made an impression upon me which I
could not efface ; and that I had fruitlessly endeavored to
trace her, and become acquainted with her history. I did not
tell you so, because I vainly thought I could conquer my
weaker feelings, and render every consideration subservient to
my duty to you."
"Mr. Nickleby," said brother Charles, "you did not vio-
late the confidence I placed in you, or take an unworthy ad-
vantage of it. I am sure you did not."
"I did not," said Nicholas firmly. "Although I found
that the necessity for self-command and restraint became every
day more imperious, and the difficulty greater, I never for one
instant spoke or looked but as I would have done had you
been by. I never for one moment deserted my trust, nor have
I to this time. But I find that constant association and com-
panionship with this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind,
and may prove destructive to the resolutions I made in the
beginning and up to this time have faithfully kept. In short,
sir, I cannot trust myself, and I implore and beseech you to
remove this young lady from under the charge of my mother
and sister, without delay. I know that to anyone but myself
— to you, who consider the immeasurable distance between
me and this young lady, who is now your ward, and the object
of your peculiar care — my loving her, even in thought, must
appear the height of rashness and presumption. I know it is
so. But, who can see her as I have seen, who can know what
her life has been, and not love her? I have no excuse but
that ; and as I cannot fly from this temptation, and cannot
ygo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
repress this passion with its object constantly before me, what
can I do but pray you to remove it, and to leave me to forget
her ! "
" Mr. Nickleby," said the old man, after a short silence,
" you can do no more. I was wrong to expose a young man
like you, to this trial. I might have foreseen what would hap-
pen. Thank you sir, thank you. Madeline shall be re-
moved."
" If you would grant me one favor, dear sir, and suffer her
to remember me with esteem, by never revealing to her this
confession — "
" I will take care," said Mr. Cheeryble. " And now, is
this all you have to tell me ?"
"No!" returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, "it is not."
" I know the rest," said Mr. Cheeryble, apparently very
much relieved by this prompt reply. " When did it come to
your knowledge ? "
" When I reached home this morning."
" You felt it 3'our duty immediately to come to me, and
tell me what your sister no doubt acquainted you with ? "
"I did," said Nicholas, "though I could have wished to
have spoken to Mr. Frank first."
" Frank was with me last night," replied the old gentle-
ma. " You have done well, Mr. Nickleby — very well, sir —
and I thank you again."
Upon this head, Nicholas requested permission to add a
few words. He ventured to hope that nothing he had said,
would lead to the estrangement of Kate and Madeline, who
had formed an attachment for each other, any interruption of
which, would, he knew, be attended with great pain to them,
and, most of all, with remorse and pain to him as its unhappy
cause. When these things were all forgotten, he hoped that
Frank and he might still be warm friends, and that no word or
thought of his humble home, or of her who was well contented
to remain there and share his quiet fortunes, would ever again
disturb the harmony between them. He recounted as nearly
as he could, what passed between himself and Kate that
morning : speaking of her with such warmth of pride and af-
fection, and dwelling so cheerfully upon the confidence they
had of overcoming any selfish regrets and living contented
and happy in each other's love, that few could have heard
him unmoved. More moved himself than he had been yet, he
expressed m a few hurried words — as expressive, perhaps, as
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 7 g x
the most eloquent phrases — his devotion to the brothers, and
his hope that he might live and die in their service.
To all this broUier Charles listened in profound silence,
and with his chair so turned from Nicholas that his face could
not be seen. He had not spoken either, in his accustomed
manner, but with a certain stiffness and embarrassment very
foreign to it. Nicholas feared he had offended him. He
said, " No, no, he had done quite right ;" but that was all.
" Frank is a heedless, foolish fellow," he said, after Nich-
olas had paused for some time ; " a very heedless, foolish
fellow. I will take care that this is brought to a close with-
out delay. Let us say no more upon the subject ; it's a very
painful one to me. Come to me in half an hour. I have
strange things to tell you, my dear sir, and your uncle has ap-
pointed this afternoon for your waiting upon him with me."
" Waiting upon him ! With you, sir ! " cried Nicholas.
" Ay, with me," replied the old gentleman. " Return to
me in half an hour, and I'll tell you more."
Nicholas waited upon him at the time mentioned, and
then learnt all that had taken place on the previous day, and
all that was known of the appointment Ralph had made with
the brothers ; which was for that night ; and for the better
understanding of which it will be requisite to return and
follow Ralph's own footsteps from the house of the twin
brothers. Therefore, we leave Nicholas somewhat reassured
by the restored kindness of their manner towards him, and
yet sensible that it was different from what it had been
(though he scarcely knew in what respect) : so he was full of
uneasiness, uncertainty, and disquiet.
CHAPTER LXn.
RALPH MAKES ONE LAST APPOINTMENT AND KEEPS IT.
Creeping from the house, and slinking off like a thief ;
groping with his hands when first he got into the street, as if
he were a blind man ; and looking often over his shoulder
while he hurried away, as though he were followed in imagi-
nation or reality by some one anxious to question or detain
7^2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
him ; Ralph Nickleby left the city behind him, and took the
road to his own home.
The night was dark, and a cold wind blew, driving the
clouds furiously and fast before it. There was one black
gloomy mass that seemed to follow him : not hurrying in the
wild chase with the others, but lingering sullenly behind, and
gliding darkly and stealthily on. He often looked back at
this, and, more than once, stopped to let it pass over ; but,
somehow, when he went forward again, it was still behind
him, coming mournfully and slowly up, like a shadowy funeral
train.
He had to pass a poor, mean burial ground — a dismal
place, raised a few feet above the level of the street, and
parted from it by a low parapet-wall and an iron railing ; a
rank, unwholesome, rotten spot, where the very grass and
weeds seemed, in their frowsy growth, to tell that they had
sprung from paupers' bodies, and had struck their roots in
the graves of men, sodden, while alive, in steaming courts
and drunken hungry dens. And here, in truth, they lay,
parted from the living by a little earth and a board or two —
lay thick and close — corrupting in body as they had in mind
— a dense and squalid crowd. Here they lay, cheek by jowl
with life : no deeper down than the feet of the throng that
passed there, every day, and piled high as their throats.
Here they lay, a grisly family all these dear departed brothers
and sisters of the ruddy clergv'man who did his task so speedily
w'hen they were hidden in the ground !
As he passed here, Ralph called to mind that he had been
one of a jury, long before, on the body of a man who had cut
his throat ; and that the man was buried in this place. He
could not tell how he came to recollect it now, when he had
so often passed and never thought about him, or how it was
that he felt an interest in the circumstance ; but he did both ;
and stopping, and clasping the iron railings with his hands,
looked eagerly in, wondering which might be his grave.
While he was thus engaged, there came towards him,
with noise of shouts and singing, some fellows full of drink,
followed by others who were remonstrating with them and
urging them to go home in quiet. They were in high good-
humor ; and one of them, a little, weazen, humped-backed
man, began to dance. He was a grotesque, fantastic figure,
and the few bystanders laughed. Ralph himself was moved
to mirth, and echoed the laugh of one who stood near and
NICHOLAS mCKLEDY. 793
who looked round in his face. When they had passed on,
and he was left alone again, he resumed his speculation with
a new kind of interest ; for he recollected that the last person
who had seen the suicide alive, had left him very merry, and
he remembered how strange he and the other jurors had
thought that, at the time.
He could not fix upon the spot among such a heap of
graves, but he conjured up a strong and vivid idea of the
man himself, and how he looked, and what had led him to do
it ; all of which he recalled with ease. By dint of dwelling
upon this theme, he carried the impression with him when he
went away ; as he remembered, when a child, to have had fre-
quently before him the figure of some goblin he had once seen
chalked upon a door. Rut as he drew nearer and nearer
home he forgot it agajn, and he.CTan to think how very dull and
solitary the hmi'^e would \>^- inside.
This feeling became so strong at last, that when he reached
his own door, he could hardly make up his mind to turn the
key and open it. When he had done that, and gone into the
passage, he felt as though to shut it again would be to shut
out the world. But he let it go, and it closed with a loud
noise. There was no light. How very dreaiy, cold, and still
it was !
Shivering from head to foot he made his way up stairs
into the room where he had been last disturbed. He had
made a kind of compact with himself that he would not think
of what had happened, until he got home. He was at home
now, and suffered himself to consider it.
His own child, his own child ! He never doubted the
tale ; he felt it was true ; knew it as well, now, as if he had
been privy to it all along. His own child ! And dead too.
Dying beside Nicholas, loving him, and looking upon him as
something like an angel ! That was the worst.
They had all turned from him and deserted him in his
very first need. Even money could not buy them now ; every-
thing must come out, and everybody must know all. Here
was the young lord dead, his companion abroad and beyond
his reach, ten thousand pounds gone at one blow, his plot
with Gride overset at the moment of triumph, his after schemes
discovered, himself in danger, the object of his persecution
and Nicholas's love, his own wretched boy ; everything
crumbled and fallen upon him, and he beaten down beneath
the ruins and grovelling in the dust.
794
7 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
f
If he had known his child to be alive ; if no deceit had
been ever practised, and he had grown up, beneath his eye ;
he might have been a careless, indifferent, rough, harsh father
— like enough — he felt that ; but the thought would come that
he might have been otherwise, and that his son might have
been a comfort to him and they two happy together. He
began to think now, that his supposed death and his wife's
flight had had some share in making him the morose, hard
man he was. He seemed to remember a time when he was
not quite so rough and obdurate ; and almost thought that
he had first hated Nicholas, because he was young and gallant,
and perhaps like the stripling Who had brought dishonor and
loss of fortune on his head.
But one tender thought, or one of natural regret, in his
whirlwind of passion and remorse, was as a drop of calm
water in a stormy maddened sea. His hatred of Nicholas
had been fed upon his own defeat, nourished on his inter-
ference with his schemes, fattened upon his old defiance
and success. There were reasons for its increase ; it had
grown and strengthened gradually. Now, it attained a height
which was sheer wild lunacy. That his, of all others, should
have been the hands to rescue his miserable child ; that he
should have been his protector and faithful friend ; that he
have shown him that love and tenderness which, from the
wretched moment of his birth, he had never known ; that
he should have taught him to hate his own parent and ex-
ecrate his very name ; that he should now know and feel all this,
and triumph in the recollection, was gall and madness to the
usurer's heart. The dead boy's love for Nicholas, and the at-
tachment of Nicholas to him, was insupportable agony. The
picture of his death-bed, with Nicholas at his side, tending
and supporting him, and he breathing out his thanks and ex-
piring in his arms, when he would have had them mortal ene-
mies and hating each other to the last, drove him frantic. He
gnashed his teeth, and smote the air, and looking wildly round,
with eyes which gleamed through the darkness, cried aloud :
" I am trampled down and ruined. The wretch told me
true. The night has come ! Is there no way to rob them of
further triumph, and spurn their mercy and compassion >/ Is
there no devil to help me .'' '-'/
Swiftly, there glided again into his brain the figure he had
raised that night. It seemed to lie before him. The head
was covered now. So it was when he first saw it. The rigid
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
795
upturned marble feet too, he remembered well. Then came
before him, the pale and trembling relatives who had told
their tale upon the inquest — the shrieks of women — the silent
dread of men — the consternation and disquiet — the victory
achieved by that heap of clay, which, with one motion of its
hand, had let out the life and made this stir among them
He spoke no more ; but, after a pause, softly groped his
way out of the room, and up the echoing stairs — up to the top
— to the front garret — where he closed the door behind him,
and remained.
It was a mere lumber-room now, but it yet contained an
old dismantled bedstead ; the one on which his son had
slept ; for no other had ever been there. He avoided it
hastilv, and sat down as far from it as he could.
The weakened glare of the lights in the street below,
shining through the window which had no blind or curtain to
intercept it, was enough to show the character of the room,
though not sufficient fully to reveal the various articles of lum-
ber, old corded trunks and broken furniture, which were scat-
tered about. It had a shelving roof ; high in one part, and
at another descending almost to the floor. It was towards the
highest part, that Ralph directed his eyes ; and upon it he
kept them fixed steadily for some minutes. Then he rose,
and dragging thither an old chest upon which he had been
seated, mounted on it, and felt along the wall above his head
with both hands. At length, they touched a large iron hook,
firmly driven into one of the beams.
At that moment, he was interrupted by a loud knocking
at the door below. After a little hesitation he opened the
window, and demanded who it was.
" I want Mr. Nickleby," replied a voice.
"What with him?"
" That's not Mr. Nickleby's voice surely ? " was the re-
joinder.
It was not like it ; but it was Ralph who spoke, and so he said.
The voice made answer that the twin Brothers wished to
know whether the man whom he had seen that ni^lht, was to
be detained ; and that although it was now midnight they had
sent, in their anxiety to do right.
" Yes," cried Ralph, " detain him till to-morrow ; then let
them bring him here — him and my nephew — and come them-
selves, and be sure that I will be ready to receive them."
" At what hour.? " asked the voice.
796
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" At any hour," replied Ralph fiercely. " In the afternoon,
tell them. At any hour, at any minute. All times will be
alike to me."
He listened to the man's retreating footsteps, until the
sound had passed, and then gazing up into the sky, saw, or
thought he saw the same black cloud that had seemed to fol-
low him home, and which now appeared to hover directly
above the house.
" 1 know its meaning now," he muttered, " and the rest-
less nights, the dreams, and why I have quailed of late. All
pointed to this. Oh ! if men by selling their own souls could
ride rampant for a term, for how short a term would I barter
mine to-night ! "
The sound of a deep bell came along the wind. One.
" Lie on ! " cried the usurer, " with your iron tongue ! Ring
merrily for births that make expectants writhe, and for mar-
riages that are made in hell, and toll ruefully for the dead
whose shoes are worn already ! Call men to prayers who are
godly because not found out, and ring chimes for the coming in
of every year that brings this cursed world nearer to its end.
No bell or book for me ! Throw me on a dunghill, and let
me rot there, to infect the air ! "
With a wild look around, in which frenzy, hatred, and
despair, were horribly mingled, he shook his clenched hand
at the sky above him, which was still dark and threatening,
and closed the window.
The rain and hail pattered against the glass ; the chimneys
quaked and rocked ; the crazy casement rattled with the wind,
as though an impatient hand inside were striving to burst
it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no more.
* * * * * * *
" How's this ? " cried one. The gentlemen say they can't
make anybody hear, and have been trying these two hours."
*■ And yet lie came home last night," said another ; " for he
spoke to somebody out of that window up stairs."
They were a little knot of men, and the window being
mentioned, went out in the road to look up at it. This occa-
sioned their observing that the house was still close shut, as the
housekeeper had said she had left it on the previous night,
and led to a great many suggestions : which terminated in two
or three of the boldest getting round to the back and so
entering by a window, while the others remained outside, in
impatient expectation.
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 797
They looked into all the rooms below : opening the shutter-
as they went, to admit the fading light : and, still findmg no
body, and everything quiet and in its place, doubted whether
they should go farther. One man, however, remarking that
they had not yet been into the garret, and that it was there he
had been last seen, they agreed to look there too, and went up
softly ; for the mystery and silence made them timid.
After they had stood for an instant, on the landing, eyeing
each other, he who had proposed their carrying the search so
far turned the handle of the door, and pushing it open, looked
through the chink and fell back directly.
" It's very odd," he whispered, " he's hiding behind the
door ! Look ! "
They pressed forward to see ; but one among them thrust-
ing the others aside with a loud exclamation, drew a clasp
knife from his pocket and dashing into the room cut down the
body.
He had torn a rope from one of the old trunks, and hang-
ed himself on an iron hook immediately below the trap-door
in the ceiling — in the very place to which the eyes of his son,
a lonely desolate little creature, had so often been directed in
childish terror, fourteen years before.
CHAPTER LXHI.
THE BROTHERS CHEERYBLE MAKE VARIOUS DECLARATIONS FOR
THEMSELVES AND OTHERS. TIM LINKINWATER MAKES A
DECLARATION FOR HIMSELF.
Some weeks had passed, and the first shock of these events
had subsided. Madeline had been removed ; Frank had been
absent ; Nicholas and Kate had begun to try in good earnest
to stifle their own regrets, and to live for each other and for
their mother — who, poor lady, could in nowise be reconciled
to this dull and altered state of affairs — when there came one
evening, per favor of Mr. Linkinwater, an invitation from the
Brothers, to dinner on the next day but one : comprehending,
not only Mrs. Nickleby, Kate, and Nicholas, but little Miss
La Creevy who was most particularly mentioned.
798
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y.
" Now, my dears," said Mrs. Nickleby, when they had
rendered becoming honor to the bidding, and Tim had taken
his departure ; " what does this mean ? "
" What do you mean, mother ? " asked Nicholas, smiling.
" I say, my dear," rejoined that lady, with a face of un-
fathomable mystery, " what does this invitation to dinner
mean .'' What is its intention and object ? "
" I conclude it means, that on such a day, we are to eat
and drink in their house, and that its intent and object is to
confer pleasure upon us," said Nicholas.
" And that's all you conclude it is, my dear ? "
" I have not yet arrived at anything deeper, mother.
" Then I'll just tell you one thing," said Mrs. Nickleby ;
" you'll find yourself a little surprised ; that's all. You may
depend upon it this means something besides dinner."
" Tea and supper, perhaps ? " suggested Nicholas.
" I wouldn't be absurd, my dear, if I were you," replied
Mrs. Nickleby, in a lofty manner, " because it's not by any
means becoming, and doesn't suit you at all. W'hat I mean
to say is, that the Mr. Cheerybles don't ask us to dinner with
all this ceremony, for nothing. Never mind ; wait and see.
You won't believe anything / say, of course. It's much better
to wait ; a great deal better ; it's satisfactory to all parties,
and there can be no disputing. All I say is, remember what
I say now, and when I say I said so, don't say I didn't."
With this stipulation, Mrs. Nickleby, who was troubled,
night and day, with a vision of a hot messenger tearing up to
the door to announce that Nicholas had been taken into part-
nership, quitted that branch of the subject, and entered upon
a new one.
" It's a very extraordinary thing," she said, " a most ex-
traordinary thing, that they should have invited Miss La
Creevy. It quite astonishes me, upon my word it does. Of
course it's very pleasant that she should be invited, very pleas-
ant, and I have no doubt that she'll conduct herself extreme-
ly well \ she always does. It's very gratifying to think we
should have been the means of introducing her into such so-
ciety, and I'm quite glad of it — quite rejoiced — for she cer-
tainly is an exceedingly well-behaved and good-natured little
person. I could wish that some friend would mention to her
how very badly she has her cap trimmed, and what very pre-
posterous bows those are, but of course that's impossible, and
if she likes to make a fright of herself, no doubt she has a per-
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY. 799
feci right to do so. We never see ourselves — never do, and
never did — and 1 suppose we never shall."
This moral reflection reminding her of the necessity of
being pecuUarly smart on the occasion, so as to counterbalance
Miss La Creevv, and be herself an effectual set-off and atone-
ment, led Mrs. Nickleby into a consultation with her daughter
relative to certain ribands, gloves, and trimmings : which,
being a complicated question, and one of paramount impor-
tance, soon routed the previous one, and put it to flight.
The great day arriving, the good lady put herself under
Kate's hands an hour or so after breakfast, and, dressing by
easy stages, completed her toilet in sufficient time to allow of
her daughter's making hers, which was very simple and not
very long, though so satisfactory that she had never appeared
more charming or looked more lovely. Miss La Creevy, too,
arrived with two bandboxes (whereof the bottoms fell out, as
they were handed from the coach) and something in a news-
paper, which a gentleman had sat upon, coming down, and
which was obliged to be ironed again, before it was fit for ser-
vice. At last, everybody was dressed, including Nicholas who
had come home to fetch them, and they went away in a coach
sent by the Brothers for the purpose : Mrs. Nickleby wonder-
ing very much what they would have for dinner, and cross-
examining Nicholas as to the extent of his discoveries in the
morning ; whether he had smelt anything cooking, at all like
turtle, and if not, what he had smelt ; and diversifying the
conversation with reminiscences of dinners to which she had
gone some twenty years ago, concerning which she particular-
ized, not only the dishes but the guests, in whom her hearers
did not feel a very absorbing interest, as not one of them had
ever chanced to hear their names before.
The old butler received them with profound respect and
many smiles, and ushered them into the drawing-room, where
they were received by the Brothers with so much cordiality
and kindness that Mrs. Nickleby was quite in a flutter, and
had scarcely presence of mind enough, even to patronize Miss
La Creevy. Kate was still more affected by the reception :
for, knowing that the Brothers were acquainted with all that
had passed between her and Frank, she felt her position a
most delicate and tiying one, and was trembling on the arm
of Nicholas, when Mr. Charles took her in his, and led her to
another part of the room.
"Have you seen Madeline, my dear," he said, "since she
left your house ? "
>>
goo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
" No, sir ! " replied Kate. " Not once."
" And not heard from her, eh ? Not heard from her ?
" I have only had one letter," rejoined Kate, gently. " I
thought she would not have forgotten me, quite so soon."
" Ah ! " said the old man, patting her on the head, and
speaking as affectionately as if she had been his favorite child.
" Poor dear ! what do you think of this, brother Ned 1 Made-
line has only written to her once, only once, Ned, and she
didn't think she would have forgotten her quite so soon.
Ned."
" Oh ! sad, sad ; very sad ! " said Ned.
The Brothers interchanged a glance, and looking at Kate
for a little time without speaking, shook hands, and nodded
as if they were congratulating each other on something very
delightful.
" Well, well," said brother Charles, " go into that room,
my dear — that door yonder — and see if there's not a letter for
you from her. I think there's one upon the table. You
needn't hurry back, my love, if there is, for we don't dine just
yet, and there's plenty of time. Plenty of time."
Kate retired as she was directed. Brother Charles, hav-
ing followed her graceful figure with his eyes, turned to Mrs.
Nickleby, and said :
" We took the liberty of naming one hour before the real
dinner-time, ma'am, because we had a little business to speak
about, which would occupy the interval. Ned, my dear fellow,
will vou mention what we agreed upon ? Mr. Nickleby, sir,
have the goodness to follow me."
Without any further explanation, Mrs. Nickleby, Miss La
Creevy, and brother Ned, were left alone together, and Nich-
olas followed brother Charles into his private room ; where,
to his great astonishment, he encountered Frank, whom he
supposed to be abroad.
" Young men," said Mr. Cheer}'ble, " shake hands ! "
"I need no bidding to do that," said Nicholas extending
his.
"Nor I," rejoined Frank, as he clasped it heartily.
The old gentleman thought that two handsomer or finer
young fellows could scarcely stand side by side than those on
whom he looked with so much pleasure. Suffering his eyes
to rest upon them, for a short time in silence, he said, while
he seated himself at his desk :
" I wish to see you freinds — close and firm friends — and
NICHOLAS NTCKLEBY. gd
if I thought you otherwise, I should hesitate in what I am
about to say. Frank, look here ! Mr. Nickleby, will you
come on the other side t "
The young men stepped up on either hand of brother
Charles, who produced a paper from his desk and unfolded it.
"This," he said, "is a copy of the will of Madeline's ma-
ternal grandfather, bequeathing her the sum of twelve thousand
pounds, payable either upon her coming of age or marrying.
It would appear that this gentleman, angr} with her (his only
relation) because she would not put herself under his protec-
tion, and detach herself from the society of her father, in com-
pliance with his repeated overtures, made a will leaving his
property (which was all he possessed) to a charitable institu-
tion. He would seem to have repented this determination,
however, for, three weeks afterwards, and in the same month,
he executed this. By some fraud, it was abstracted immediate-
ly after his decease, and the other — the only will found — was
proved and administered. Friendly negotiations, which have
only just now terminated, have been proceeding since this in-
strument came into our hands, and, as there is no doubt of
its authenticity, and the witnesses have been discovered (after
some trouble), the money has been refunded. Madeline has
therefore obtained her right, and is, or will be when either of
the contingencies which I have mentioned has arisen, mistress
of this fortune. You understand me .' "
Frank replied in the affirmative. Nicholas, who could not
trust himself to speak lest his voice should be heard to falter,
bowed his head.
" Now, Frank," said the old gentleman, "you were the im-
mediate means of recovering this deed. The fortune is but a
small one ; but we love Madeline ; and such as it is, we
would rather see you allied to her with that, than to any other
girl we know who has three times the money. Will you be-
come a suitor for her hand .-' "
" No sir. I interested myself in the recover}^ of that in-
strument, believing that her hand was already pledged to one
who has a thousand times the claims upon her gratitude, and,
if I mistake not, upon her heart, that I or any other man can
ever urge. In this it seems I judged hastily."
"As you always do, sir," cried brother Charles, utterly
forgetting his assumed dignity, " as you always do. How dare
you think, Frank, that we should have you marry for money,
when youth, beauty, and every amiable virtue and excellence,
51
8o2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
were to be had for love ? How dared you, Frank, go and
make love to Mr. Nickleby's sister without telling us first,
what you meant to do, and letting us speak for you ? "
" I hardly dared to hope — "
" You hardly dared to hope ! Then, so much the greater
reason for having our assistance ! Mr. Nickleby, sir, Frank,
although he judged hastily, judged, for once, correctly. Mad-
eline's heart is occupied. Give me your hand, sir , it is occu-
pied by you, and worthily and naturally. This fortune is
destined to be yours, but you have a greater fortune in her,
sir, than you would have in money were it forty times told. She
chooses you, Mr. Nickleby. She chooses as we, her dearest
friends, would have her choose. Frank chooses as we would
have ///;// choose. He should have your sister's little hand,
sir, if she had refused it a score of times ; ay, he should and
he shall ! You acted nobly, not knowing our sentiments, but
now you know them, sir, you must do as you are bid. What !
You are the children of a worthy gentleman ! The time was,
sir, when my dear brother Ned and I were two poor simple-
hearted boys, wandering, almost barefoot, to seek our for-
tunes J are we changed in anything but years and worldly cir-
cumstances since that time 1 No, God forbid ! Oh, Ned,
Ned, Ned, what a happy day this is for you and me ! If our
poor mother had only lived to see us now, Ned, how proud it
would have made her dear heart at last ! "
Thus apostrophized, brother Ned who had entered with
Mrs. Nickleby, and who had been before u.nobser\ed by the
young men, darted forward and fairly hugged brother Charles
in his arms.
" Bring in my little Kate," said the latter, after a short
.silence. " Bring her in, Ned. Let me see Kate, let me kiss
her. I have a right to do so now ; I was veiy near it when
she first came ; I have often been verv near it. Ah ! Did
you find the letter, my bird t Did you find Madeline herself,
waiting for you and expecting you ? Did you find that she
had not quite forgotten her friend and nurse and sweet com-
panion } Why, this is almost the best of all ! "
" Come, come," said Ned. Frank will be jealous, and we
shall have some cutting of throats before dinner."
" Then let him take her away, Ned, let him take her away.
Madeline's in the next room. Let all the lovers get out of the
way, and talk among themselves, if they've anything to say.
Turn 'em out, Ned, every one ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 803
Brother Charles began the clearance by leading the blush-
ing girl to the door, and dismissing her with a kiss. Frank
was not ver)' slow to follow, and Nicholas had disappeared
first of all. So there only remained Mrs. Nickleby and Miss
La Creevy, who were both sobbing heartily ; the two brothers ;
and Tim Linkinwater, who now came in to shake hands with
everybody, his round face all radiant and beaming with
smiles.
" Well, Tim Linkinwater, sir," said brother Charles, who
was always spokesman, " now the young folks are happy, sir."
" You didn't keep 'em in suspense as long as you said you
would though," returned Tim, archly. "Why, Mr. Nickleby
and Mr. Frank were to have been in your room for I don't
know how long ; and I don't know what you weren't to have
told them before you came out with the truth."
" Now, did you ever know such a villain as this, Ned .' "
said the old gentleman, " did you ever know such a villain as
Tim Linkinwater ? He accusing me of being impatient, and he
the ver}' man who has been wearying us morning, noon, and
night, and torturing us for leave to go and tell 'em what was
in store, before our plans were half complete, or we had
arranged a single thing. A treacherous dog ! "
" So he is, brother Charles," returned Ned, " Tim is a
treacherous dog. Tim is not to be trusted. Tim is a wild
young fellow. He wants gravity and steadiness ; he must sow
his wild oats, and then perhaps he'll become in lime a respect-
able member of society."
This being one of the standing jokes between the old fel-
lows and Tim, they all three laughed very heartily, antl might
have laughed much longer, but that the Brothers seeing that
Mrs. Nickleby was laboring to express her feelings, and was
really overwhelmed by the happiness of the time, took her
between them, and led her from the room under pretence of
having to consult her on some most important arrangements.
Now, Tim and Miss La Creevy had met very often, and
had always been very chatty and pleasant together — had
always been great friends — and consequently it was tlie moht
natural thing in the world that Tim, finding that she still
sobbed, should endeavor to console her. As Miss La Creevy
sat on a large old-fashioned window-seat where there was
ample room for two, it was also natural that Tim should sit
down beside her ; and as to Tim's being unusually spruce
and particular in his attire, that dav. whv it was a high festival
and a great occasion, and that was the most natural thing of all.
8 o4 NICHOLAS NICKLEB F.
Tim sat down beside Miss La Creevy, and, crossing one
leg over the other so that his foot — he had very comely feet,
and happened to be wearing the neatest shoes and blacl<. sill<
stockings possible — should come easily within the range of
her eye, said in a soothing way :
"Don't cry!"
" I mast," rejoined Miss La Creevy.
" No don't," said Tim. " Please don't ; pray don't."
" I am so happy ! " sobbed the little woman.
" Then laugh," said Tim. " Do laugh."
What in the world Tim was doing with his arm, it is impos-
sible to conjecture, but he knocked his elbow against that
part of the window which was quite on the other side of Miss
La Creevy ; and it is clear that it could have no business
there.
'- Do laugh," said Tim, " or I'll cry."
" Why should you cry ? " asked Miss La Creevy, smiling.
" Because I'm happy too," said Tim. " We are both
happy, and I should like to do as you do."
Surely, there never was a man who fidgeted as Tim must
have done then ; for he knocked the window again — almost
in the same place — and Miss La Creevy said she was sure
he'd break it.
" I know," said Tim, "that you would be pleased with this
scene."
" It was very thoughtful and kind to remember me,"
returned Miss La Creevy. " Nothing could have delighted
me, half so much."
Why on earth should Miss La Creevy and Tim Linkin-
water have said all this in a whisper? It was no secret. And
why should Tim Linkinwater have looked so hard at Miss La
Creevy, and why should Miss La Creevy have looked so hard
at the ground }
" It's a pleasant thing," said Tim, " to people like us, who
have passed all our lives in the world, alone, to see young
folks that we are fond of, brought together with so many
years of happiness before them."
" Ah ! " cried the little woman with all her heart. " That
it is ! "
"Although," pursued Tim, " although it makes one feel
quite solitary and cast away. Now, don't it ? "
Miss La Creevy said she didn't know. And why should
she say she didn't know? Because she must have known
whether it did or not.
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 805
" It's almost enough to make us get married after all, isn't
it ? " said Tim.
" Oh nonsense ! " replied Miss La Cree\y, laughing.
" We are too old."
"Not a bit," said Tim, "we are too old to be single.
Why shouldn't we both be married instead of sitting through
the long winter evenings by our solitary firesides .' Why
shouldn't we make one fireside of it, and marry each other ? "
*' Oh Mr. Linkinwater, you're joking ! "
"No, no, I'm not. I'm not indeed," said Tim. " I will,
if you will. Do, my dear ! "
" It would make people laugh so."
" Let 'em laugh," cried Tim, stoutly, " we have good
tempers I know, and we'll laugh too. Why, what hearty
laughs we have had since we've known each other! "
" So we have," cried Miss La Creevy — giving way a little,
as Tim thought.
" It has been the happiest time in all my life ; at least,
away from the counting-house and Cheeryble Brothers," said
Tim. " Do, my dear ! Now say you will."
" No, no, we mustn't think of it," returned Miss La Creevy.
" What would the Brothers say ? "
" Why, God bless your soul ! " cried Tim, innocently,
"you don't suppose I should think of such a thing without
their knowing it ! Why, they left us here on purpose."
" I can never look 'em in the face again ! " exclaimed Miss
La Creevy, faintly.
" Come ! " said Tim. " Let's be a comfortable couple.
We shall live in the old house here, where I have been for
four-and forty year ; we shall go to the old church, where I've
been, every Sunday morning, all through that time ; we shall
have all my old friends about us — Dick, the archway, the pump,
the flower-pots, and Mr. Frank's children, and Mr. Nickleby's
children that we shall seem like grandfather and grandmother
to. Let's be a comfortable couple, and take care of each
other ! And if we should get deaf, or lame, or blind, or bed-
ridden, how glad we shall be that we have somebody we are
fond of, always to talk to and sit with ! Let's be a comforta-
ble couple. Now, do, my dear ! "
Five minutes after this honest and straightforward speech,
little Miss La Creevy and Tim were talking as pleasantly as
if they had been married for a score of years, and had never
once quarrelled all the time ; and five minutes after that,
when Miss La Creevy had bustled out to see if her eyes were
8o6 NICHOLAS NICKI.EBY.
red and to put her hair to rights, Tim moved witli a stately
step towards the drawing-room, exclaiming as he went,
" There an't such another woman in all London ! I know
there an't ! "
By this time, the apoplectic butler was nearly in fits, in con-
sequence of the unheard-of postponement of dinner. Nicho-
las, who had been engaged in a manner in which every reader
may imagine for himself or herself, was hurrying down stairs
in obedience to his angry summons, when he encountered a
new surprise.
On his way down, he overtook in one of the passages a
stranger genteelly dressed in black, who was also moving
towards the dining-room. As he was rather lame and walked
slowly, Nicholas lingered behind, and was following him step
by step, wondering who he was, when he suddenly turned
round and caught him by both hands.
" Newman Noggs ! " cried Nicholas joyfully.
" Ah ! Newman, your own Newman, your own old faithful
Newman ! My dear boy, my dear Nick, I give you joy —
health, happiness, every blessing ! I can't bear it — it's too
much my dear boy— it makes a child of me ! "
" Where have you been ? " said Nicholas, " what have you
being doing 1 How often have 1 inquired for you, and been
told that I should hear before long ! " ,
"I know, I know!" returned Newman. " They wanted
all the happiness to come together. I've been helping 'em.
I — I- — look at me, Nick, look at me ! "
" You would never let 77ie do that," said Nicholas in a tone
of gentle reproach.
" 1 didn't mind what I was, then. I shouldn't have had
the heart to put on gentleman's clothes. They would have
reminded me of old times and made me miserable. I am an-
other man now, Nick. My dear boy, I can't speak. Don't
say anything to me. Don't think the worse of me for these
tears. You don't know what I feel to-day ; you can't, and
never will ! "
They walked in to dinner, arm-in-arm, and sat down side
by side.
Never was such a dinner as that, since the world began.
There was the superannuated bank clerk, Tim Linkinwater's
friend ; and there was the chubby old lady, Tim Linkinwater's
sister; and there was so much attention from Tim Linkin-
water's sister to Miss La C'reevy, and there were so many
jokes from the superannuated bank clerk, and Tim Linkin*
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 807
water himself was in such tiptop spirits, and Uttle Miss La
Creevy was in such a comical state, that of themselves they
would have composed the pleasantest party conceivable.
Then, there were Mrs. Nickleby, so grand and complacent ;
Madeline and Kate, so blushing and beautiful ; Nicholas and
Frank, so devoted and proud ; and all four so silently and
tremblingly happy ; there was Newman so subdued yet so
overjoyed, and there were the twin Brothers, so delighted and
interchanging such looks, that the old servant stood trans-
fixed behind his master's chair, and felt his eyes grow dim as
they wandered round the table.
When the first novelty of the meeting had worn off, and
they began truly to feel how happy they were, the conversa-
tion became more general, and the harmony and pleasure if
possible increased. The Brothers were in perfect ecstasy ;
and their insisting on saluting the ladies, all round, before
they would permit them to retire, gave occasion to the super-
annuated bank clerk to say so many good things, that he
quite outshone himself, and was looked upon as a prodigy
of humor.
",Kate, my dear," said Mrs. Nickleb)^, taking her daughter
aside, as soon as they got up stairs, "you don't really mean to
tell me that this is actually true about Miss La Creevy and
Mr. Linkinwater .? "
" Indeed it is, mama."
" Why, I never heard such a thing in my life ! " exclaimed
Mrs. Nickleby,
" Mr. Linkinwater is a most excellent creature," reasoned
Kate, " and, for his age, quite young still."
" For his age, my dear ! " returned Mrs. Nickleby. " Yes ;
nobody says anything against him, except that I think he is
the weakest and most foolish man I ever knew. It's her age
I speak of. That he should have gone and offered himself to
a woman who must be — ah, half as old again as I am — and
that she should have dared to accept him ! It don't signify,
Kate ; I'm disgusted with her!"
Shaking her head very emphatically indeed, Mrs. Nickleby
swept away ; and all the evening, in the midst of the merri-
ment and enjoyment that ensued, and in which with that excep-
tion she freely participated, conducted herself towards Miss
La Creevy in a stately and distant manner, designed to mark
her sense of the impropriety of her conduct, and to signify
her extreme and cutting disapprobation of the misdemeanor
she had so flagrantly committed.
8o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
CHAPTER LXIV.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IS RECOGNIZED UNDER MELANCHOLY
CIRCUMSTANCES, AND DOTHEBOYS HALL BREAKS UP FOR
EVER.
Nicholas was one of those whose joy is incomplete unless
It is shared by the friends of adverse and less fortunate days.
Surrounded by every fascination of love and hope, his warm
heart yearned towards plain John Browdie. He remembered
their first meeting with a smile, and their second with a tear ;
saw poor Smike once again with the bundle on his shoulder
trudging patiently by his side ; and heard the honest York-
shireman's rough words of encouragement as he left them on
their road to London.
Madeline and he sat down, very many times, jointly to
produce a letter which should acquaint John at full length
with his altered fortunes, and assure him of his friendship and
gratitude. It so happened, however, that the letter could
never be written. Although they applied themselves to it with
the best intentions in the world, it chanced that they always
fell to talking about something else, and when Nicholas tried
it by himself, he found it impossible to write one half of what
he wished to say, or to pen anything indeed, which on re-
perusal did not appear cold and unsatisfactory compared with
what he had in his mind. At last, after going on thus from
day to day, and reproaching himself more and more, he re-
solved (the more readily as Madeline strongly urged him) to
make a hasty trip into Yorkshire, and present himself before
Mr. and Mrs. Browdie without a word of notice.
Thus it was that between seven and eight o'clock one
evening, he and Kate found themselves in the Saracen's Head
booking-office, securing a place to Greta Bridge by the next
morning's coach. They had to go westward, to procure some
little necessaries for his journey, and, as it was a fine night,
they agreed to walk there, and ride home.
The place they had just been in, called up so many recol-
lections, and Kate had so many anecdotes of Madeline, and
Nicholas so many anecdotes of Frank, and each was so inter-
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 8 09
ested in what the otlicr said, and both were so happy and
confiding, and had so much to tall<: about, that it was not until
they iiad plunged for a full half hour into that labyrinth of
streets which lies between Seven Dials and Soho, without
emerging into any large thoroughfare, that Nicholas began to
think it just possible they might have lost their way.
The possibility was soon converted into a certainty ; for,
on looking about, and walking first to one end of the street
and then to the other, he could find no landmark he could
recognize, and was fain to turn back again in quest of some
place at which he could seek a direction.
It was a by- street, and there was nobody about, or in the
few wretched shops they \passed. Making towards a faint
gleam of light, which streamed across the pavement from a
cellar, Nicholas was about to descend two or three steps so as
to render himself visible to those below and make his inquir\',
when he was arrested by a loud noise of scolding in a woman's
voice.
" Oh come away ! " said Kate. " They are quarreling.
You'll be hurt."
" Wait one instant, Kate. Let us hear if there's anything
the matter," returned her brother. " Hush ! "
" You nasty, idle, vicious, good-for-nothing brute," cried
the woman, stamping on the ground, " why don't you turn
the mangle \ "
'" Sol am, my li'e and soul ! " replied a man's voice. " I
am always turning. I am perpetually turning, like a demd old
horse in a demnition mill. My life is one demd horrid
grind ! "
" Then why don't you go and list for a soldier ? " retorted
the woman, " you're welcome to."
" For a soldier ! " cried the man. " For a soldier ! Would
his joy and gladness see him in a coarse red coat with a little
tail ? Would she hear of his being slapped and beat by
drummers demnebly ? Would she have him fire off real guns
and have his hair cut, and his whiskers shaved, and his eyes
turned right and left, and his trousers pipeclayed ? " *, w
" Dear Nicholas," whispered Kate, "you don't know who -t;;*
that is. " It's Mr. Mantalini I am qonfi.d^'nt."
" Do niakc sure ! Peep at him while I ask the way," said
Nicholas. " Come down a step or two. Come ! "
Drawing her after him, Nicholas crept down the steps and
looked into a small boarded cellar. There amidst clothes-
8 1 o NICHOLAS NTCKLEB V.
baskets and clothes, stripped to his shirt-sleeves, but wearing
still an old patched pair of pantaloons of superlative make, a
once brilliant waistcoat, and mustache and whiskers as of
yore, but lacking their lustrous dye — there, endeavoring to
mollify the wrath of a buxom female — not the lawful Madame
Mantalini, but the proprietress of the concern — and grinding
meanwhile as if for very life at the mangle, whose creaking
noise, mingled with her shrill notes, appeared almost to deafen
him — there was the graceful, elegant, fascinating, and once
dashing Mantalini.
" Oh, you false traitor ! " cried the lady, threatening per-
sonal violence on Mr. Mantalini's face.
" False. Oh dem ! Now my soul, my gentle, captivating,
bewitching, and most demnebly enslaving chick-a-biddy, be
calm," said Mr. Mantalini, humbly.
" I won't ! " screamed the woman. " I'll tear your eyes
out ! "
" Oh ! What a demd savage lamb ! " cried Mr. Man-
talini.
"You're never to be trusted," screamed the woman, "you
were out all day yesterday, and gallivanting somewhere I
know. You know you were ! Isn't it enough that I paid two
pound fourteen for you, and took you out of prison and let
you live here like a gentleman, but must you go on like this :
breaking my heart besides .-' "
" I will never break its heart, I will be a good boy, and
never do so any more. I will never be naughty again ; I beg
its little pardon," said Mr. Mantalini, dropping the handle of
the mangle, and folding its palms together, " it is all up with
its handsome friend ! He has gone to the demnition bow-
wows. It will have pity ? It will not scratch and claw, but
J3et and comfort ? Oh, demmit."
Very little afifected, to judge from her action, by this ten-
der appeal, the lady was on the point of returning some
angry reply, when Nicholas raising his voice asked his way to
Piccadilly.
Mr. Mantalini turned round, caught sight of Kate, and,
without another word, leapt at one bound into a bed which
stood behind the door, and drew the counterpane over his
face : kicking meanwhile convulsively.
" Demmit," he cried, in a suffocating voice, " it's little
Nickleby ! Shut the door, put out the candle, turn me up in
the bedstead ! Oh, dem, dem, dem ! "
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 8 1 1
The woman looked, first at Nicholas, and then at Mr,
Mantalini, as if uncertain on whom to visit this extraoi linary
behavior ; but Mr. Mantalini happening by ill luck to thrust
his nose from under the bedclothes, in his anxiety to ascertain
whether the visitors were gone, she suddenly, and with a dex-
terity which could only have been acquired by long practice,
flung a pretty heavy clothes-basket at him with so good an
aim that he kicked more violently than before, though without
venturing to make any effort to disengage his head, which was
quite extinguished. Thinking this a favorable opportunity
for departing before any of the torrent of her wrath discharged
itself upon him, Nicholas hurried Kate off and left the unfor-
tunate subject of this unexpected recognition to explain his
conduct as he best could.
The next morning he began his journey. It was now cold
winter weather: forcibly recalling to his mind under what
circumstances he had first travelled that road, and how many
vicissitudes and changes he had since undergone. He was
alone inside, the greater part of the way, and sometimes^ when
he had fallen into a doze, and, rousing himself, looked out of
the window, and recognized some place which he well remem-
bered as having passed, either on his journey down, or in the
long walk back with poor Smike, he could hardly beliexe but
that all which had since happened had been a dream', and that
they were still plodding wearily on towards London, with the
world before them.
To render these recollections the more vivid, it came on
to snow as night set in ; and passing through Stamford and
Grantham, and by the little alehouse where he had heard the
story of the bold Baron of Grogzwig, ever}'thing looked as if
he had seen it but yesterday, and not even a flake of the white
crust on the roofs had melted away. Encouraging the train
of ideas which flocked uj^on him, he could almost persuade
himself that he sat again outside the coach, with Squeers and
the boys ; that he heard their voices in the air ; and that he
felt again, but with a mingled sensation of pain and pleasure
now, that old sinking of the heart, and longing after home.
While he was yet yielding himself up to these fancies he fell
asleep, and, dreaming of Madeline, forgot them.
He slept at the inn at Greta Bridge, on the night of his
arrival, and, rising at a very early hour next morning, walked
to the market town, and inquired for John Browdie's house.
John lived in the outskirts, now he was a family man ; and, as
8 1 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEB V.
everybody knew him, Nicholas had no difficulty in finding a
boy who undertook to guide him to his residence.
Dismissing his guide at the gate, and in his impatience
not even stopping to admire the thriving look of cottage or
garden either, Nicholas made his way to the kitchen door, and
knocked lustily with his stick.
" Halloa ! " cried a voice inside. " Waat be the matther
noo.-" Be the toon a-fire .'' Uing, but thou mak'st noise
eneaf!"
With these words, John Browdie opened the door himself,
and opening his eyes too, to their utmost width, cried, as he
clapped his hands together, and burst into a hearty roar :
" Ecod, it be the godfeyther, it be the godfeyther ! 'Tilly,
here be Misther Nickleby. Gi' us thee bond, mun. Coom
awa', coom awa'. In wi' 'un, doon beside the lire ; tak' a
soop o' thot. Dinnot say a word till thou'st droonk it a' !
Oop wi' it, mun. Ding ! but I'm reeght glod to see thee."
Adapting his action to his text, John dragged Nicholas into
the kitchen, forced him down upon a huge settle beside a
blazing fire, poured out from an enormous bottle about a quar-
ter of a pint of spirits, thrust it into his hand, opened his
mouth, and threw back his head as a sign to him to drink it
instantly, and stood vv-ith a broad grin of welcome overspread-
ing his gfeat red face, like a jolly giant.
" I might ha' knowa'd," said John, " that nobody but thou
would ha' coom wi' sike a knock as yon. Thot was the wa'
thou knocked at schoolmeasther's door, eh ? Ha, ha, ha !
But I say ; waa't be a' this aboot schoolmeasther ? "
" You know it then ? " said Nicholas.
" They were talking aboot it, doon toon, last neeght," re-
plied John, " but neane on 'em seemed quite to un'erstan' it
loike."
" After various shiftings and delays," said Nicholas, " he
has been sentenced to be transported for seven years, for
being in the unlawful possession of a stolen will ; and, after
that, he has to suffer the consequence of a conspiracy."
" Whew ! " cried John, " a conspiracy ! Soomat in the
pooder plot wa' ? Eh ! Soomat in the Guy Eaux line ? "
" No, no, no, a conspiracy connected with his school ; I'll
explain it presently."
" Thot's reeght !" said John, "explain it arter breakfast,
not noo, for thou bee'st hoongrv, and so am I ; and Tilly she
mun' be at the bottom o' a' explanations, for she says thot's
NICHOLAS NICKLEB V. 813
the mutual confidence. Ha, ha, ha ! Ecod it's a room start,
is the mutual confidence ! "
" The entrance of Mrs. Browdie, with a smart cap on and
very many apoloii^ies for their ha\-ing been detected in the act
of breakfasting in the kitchen, stopped John in his discussion
of this grave subject, and hastened the breakfast : which, being
composed of vast mounds of toast, new-laid eggs, boiled ham,
Yorkshire pie, and other cold substantial (of which heavy re-
lays were constantly appearing from another kitchen under the
direction of a very plump servant), was admirably adapted to
the cold bleak morning, and received the utmost justice from
all parties. At last, it came to a close ; and the fire which had
been lighted in the best parlor having by this time burnt up,
they adjourned thither, to hear what Nicholas had to tell.
Nicholas told them all, and never was there a story which
awakened so many emotions in the breasts of two eager listen-
ers. At one time, honest John groaned in sympathy, and at
another roared with joy ; at one time he vowed to go up to
London on purpose to get a sight of the Brothers Cheeryble ;
at another, swore that Tim Linkinwater should receive such a
ham by coach, and carriage free, as mortal knife had never
carved. When Nicholas iDCgan to describe Madeline, he sat
with his mouth wide open, nudging Mrs. Browdie from time to
time, and exclaiming under his breath that she must be
" raa'ther a tidy sart," and when he heard at last that his young
friend had come down, purposely to communicate his good
fortune, and to convey to him all those assurances of friend-
ship which he could not state with sufficient warmth in wri-
ting— that the only object of his journey was to share his hap-
piness with them, and to tell them that when he was married
they must come up to see him, and that Madeline insisted on
it as well as he — John could hold out no longer, but after look-
ing indignantly at his wife, and demanding to know what she
was whimpering for, drew his coat-sleeve over his eyes and
blubbered outright.
" Tell'ee waa't though," said John seriously, when a great
deal had been said on both sides, " to return to schoolmeas-
ther. If this news aboot 'un has reached school to-day, the
old 'ooman wean't have a whole boan in her boddy, nor Fanny
neither."
" Oh John ! " cried Mrs. Browdie.
" Ah fand Oh John agean," replied the Yorkshireman.
" I dinnot know what they lads mightn't do. When it first
8i4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
got aboot that schoolmeasther was in trouble, some feythers
and moothers sent and took their young chaps awa'. If them
as is left, should know waa'ts coom tiv'un, there'll be sike a
revolution and rebel ! — Ding ! But I think they'll a' gang
daft, and spill bluid like wather ! "
In fact John Browdie's apprehensions were so strong that
he determined to ride over to the school without delay, and
invited Nicholas to accompany him, which, however, he de-
clined, pleading that his presence might perhaps aggravate
the bitterness of their adversity.
" Thot's true ! " said John, " I should ne'er ha' thought o'
thot."
" I must return to-morrow," said Nicholas, "but I mean
to dine with you to-day and if Mrs. Browdie can give me a
bed "
a
Bed ! " cried John, " I wish thou couldst sleep in fower
beds at once. Ecod thou should'st have 'em a'. Bide till I
coom back ; on'y bide till I coom back, and ecod we'll make
a day of it ! ''
Giving his wife a hearty kiss, and Nicholas a no less hearty
shake of the liand, John mounted his horse and rode off :
leaving Mrs. Browdie to apply herself to hospitable prepara-
tions, and his young friend to stroll about the neighborhood,
and revisit spots which were rendered familiar to him by many
a miserable association.
John cantered away, and arri\ ing at Dotheboys Hall, tied
his horse to a gate and made his way to the school-room door,
which he found locked on the inside. A tremendous noise
and riot arose from within, and, applying his eye to a conve-
nient crevice in the wall, he did not remain long in ignorance
of its meaning.
The news of Mr. Squeers's downfall had reached Dothe-
boys ; that was quite clear. To all appearance, it had very
recently become known to the young gentlemen ; for rebellion
had just broken out.
It was one of the brimstone-and-treacle mornings, and
Mrs. Squeers had entered school according to custom with the
large bowl and spoon, followed by Miss Squeers and the amia-
ble Wackford : who, during his father's absence had taken
upon himself such minor branches of the executive as kicking
the pupils with his nailed boots, pulling the hair of some of
the smaller boys, pinching the others in aggravating places, and
rendering himself in various similar ways a great comfort and
NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y. 815
happiness to his mother. Their entrance, whether by pre-
meditation or a simultaneous impulse, was the signal of revolt.
While one detachment rushed to the door and locked it,
and another mounted the desk and forms, the stoutest (and
consequently the newest) boy seized the cane, and, confront-
ing Mrs. Squeers with a stern countenance, snatched off her
cap and beaver-bonnet, put it on his own head, armed himself
with the wooden spoon and bade her on pain of death, go
down upon her knees and take a dose directly. Before that
estimable lady could recover herself, or offer the slightest re-
taliation, she was forced into a kneeling posture by a crowd of
shouting tormentors, and compelled to swallow a spoonful of
the odious mixture, rendered more than usually savory by
the immersion in the bowl of Master Wackford's head, whose
ducking was entrusted to another rebel. The success of this
first achievement prompted the malicious crowd, whose faces
were clustered together in every variety of lank and half-
starved ugliness, to further acts of outrage. The leader was
insisting upon Mrs. Squeers repeating her dose. Master
Squeers was undergoing another dip in the treacle, and a violent
assault had been commenced on Miss Squeers, when John
Browdie, bursting open the door with a vigorous kick, rushed
to the rescue. The shouts, screams, groans, hoots, and clap-
ping of hands, suddenly ceased, and a dead silence ensued.
"" Ve be noice chaps," said John, looking steadily round.
"Waat's to do here, thou yoong dogs ! "
" Squeers is in prison, and we are going to run away ! "
cried a score of shrill voices. " We won't stop, we won't stop ! "
" Weel then, dinnot stop," replied John ; " who waants
thee to stop ? Roon awa' loike men, but dinnot hurt the
women."
" Hurrah ! " cried the shrill voices, more slirilly still.
"Hurrah.'" repeated John. "Weel, hurrah loike men
too. Noo then, look out. Hip — hip — hip — hurrah ! "
" Hurrah ! " cried the voices.
" Hurrah ! Agean," said John. " Looder still."
The boys obeyed.
" Anoother ! " said John. " Dinnot be afeared on it.
Let's have a good 'un ! "
" Hurrah ! "
" Noo then," said John, " let's have yan more to end wi',
and then coot off as quick as you loike. Tak' a good breath
noo — Squeers be in jail — the school's brokken oop — it's a'
8i6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY.
ower — past and gane — think o' thot, and let it be a hearty
'un ! Hurrah ! "
Such a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys Hal! had
never echoed before, and were destined never to respond to
again. When the sound had died away, the school was empty .
and of the busy noisy crowd which had peopled it but five
minutes before, not one remained.
" Very well, Mr. Browdie ! " said Miss Squeers, hot and
flushed from the recent encounter, but vixenish to the last :
" you've been and excited our boys to run away. Now see if
we don't pay you out for that, sir ! If my pa is unfortunate
and trod down by henemies, we're not going to be basely
crowed and conquered over by you and Tilda."
"Noa!" replied John bluntly, "thou bean't. Tak' thy
oath o' thot. Think betther o' us, Fanny. I tell 'ee both,
that I'm glod the auld man has been caught out at last —
dom'd glod — but ye'U sooffer eneaf vvi'out anycrowin' fra' me,
and I be not the mun to crow, nor be Tilly the lass, so I tell
'ee flat. More than thot, I tell 'ee noo, that if thou need'st
friends to help thee awa' from this place — dinnot turn up thy
nose, Fanny, thoumay'st — thou'ltfoind Tilly and I wi' a thout
o' old times aboot us, readv to lend thee a bond. And when
I say thot, dinnot think I be asheamed of waa't I've deane, for
I say agean, Hurrah ! And dom the schoolmeasther. There ! "
His parting words concluded, John Browdie strode heavily
out, remounted his nag, put him once more into a smart
canter, and, carolling lustily forth some fragments of an old
song to which the horse's hoofs rang a merry accompaniment,
sped back to his pretty wife and to Nicholas.
For some days afterwards, the neighboring country was
overrun with boys, who, the report went, had been secretly
furnished by Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, not only with a hearty meal
of bread and meat, but with sundry shillings and sixpences to
help them on their way. To this rumor John always returned
a stout denial, which he accompanied, however, with a lurking
grin, that rendered the suspicious doubtful, and fully confirmed
all previous believers.
There were a few timid young children, who, miserable as
they had been, and many as were the tears they had shed in
the wretched school, still knew no other home, and had formed
for it a sort of atlachmcnt which made them weep when the
bolder spirits fled, and cling to it as a refuge. Of these, some
were found crying under hedges and in such places, frightened
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 817
by the solitude. One had a dead bird in a little cage ; he had
wandered nearly twenty miles, and when his poor favorite
died, lost courage, and lay down beside him. Another was
discovered in a yard hard by the school, sleeping with a dog,
who bit at those who came to remove him, and licked the
sleeping child's pale face.
They were taken back, and some other stragglers were re-
covered ; but by degrees they were claimed, or lost again ;
and, in course of time, Dotheboys Hall and its last breaking
up began to be forgotten by the neighbors, or to be only
spoken of, as among things that had been.
CHAPTER LXV.
CONCLUSION.
When her term of mourning had expired, Madeline gave
her hand and fortune to Nicholas ; and, on the same day and
at the same time, Kate became Mrs. Frank Cheerj'ble. It
was expected that Tim Linkinwater and Miss La Creevy
would have made a third couple on the occasion, but they de-
chned. Two or three weeks afterwards they went out to-
gether one morning before breakfast, and, coming back with
merry faces, were found to have been quietly married that
day.
The money which Nicholas acquired in right of his wife,
he invested in the firm of Cheeryble Brothers, in which Frank
had become a partner. Before many years elapsed, the busi-
ness began to be carried on in the name of " Cheeryble and
Nickleby," so that Mrs. Nickleby's prophetic anticipations
were realized at last.
The twin brothers retired. Who needs to be told that
they were happy .-• They were surrounded by happiness of
their own creation, and lived but to increase it.
Tim Linkinwater condescended, after much entreaty and
brow-beating, to accept a share in the house ; but he could
never be prevailed upon to suffer the publication of his name
as a partner, and always persisted in the punctual and regular
discharge of his clerkly duties.
He and his wife lived in the old house, and occupied the
very bedchamber in which he had slept for four-and-forty years.
52
8iS NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
As his wife grew older, she became even a more cheerful and
light-hearted little creature ; and it was a common saying
among their friends, that it was impossible to say which looked
the happier, Tim as he sat calmly smiling in his elbow-chair
on one side of the fire, or his brisk little wife chatting and
laughing, and constantly bustling in and out of hers, on the
other.
Dick, the blackbird, was removed from the counting-house
and promoted to a warm corner in the common sitting-room.
Beneath his cage hung two miniatures, of Mrs. Linkinwater's
execution ; one representing herself ; the other, Tim ; and
both smiling very hard at all beholders. Tim's head being
powdered like a twelfth cake, and his spectacles copied with
great nicety, strangers detected a close resemblance to him at
the first glance, and this leading them to suspect that the
other must be his wife, and emboldening them to say so with-
out scruple, Mrs. Linkinwater grew very proud of these achieve-
ments in time, and considered them among the most success-
ful likenesses she had ever painted. Tim had the profoundest
faith in them, likewise ; for on this, as on all other subjects,
they held but one opinion ; and if ever there were a " com-
fortable couple " in the world, it was Mr. and Mrs. Linkin-
water.
Ralph, having died intestate, and having no relations but
those with whom he had lived in such enmity, they would
have become in legal course his heirs. But they could not
bear the thought of growing rich on money so acquired, and
felt as though they could never hope to prosper with it. They
made no claim to his wealth. And the riches for which he
had toiled all his days, and burdened his soul with so many
evil deeds, were swept at last into the coffers of the state, and
no man was the better or the happier for them.
Arthur Gride was tried for the unlawful possession of the
will, which he had either procured to be stolen, or had dis-
honestly acquired and retained by other means as bad. By
dint of an ingenious counsel, and a legal flaw, he escaped ;
but only to undergo a worse punishment : for, some years
afterwards, his house was broken open in the night by rob-
bers, tempted by the rumors of his great wealth, and he was
found murdered in his bed.
Mrs. Sliderskew went beyond the seas at nearly the same
time as Mr. Squeers, and in the course of nature never re-
turned. Brooker died penitent. Sir Mulberry Hawk lived
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 819
abroad for some years, courted and caressed, and in high re-
pute as a fine dashing fellow. Ultimately, returning to this
country, he was thrown into jail for debt, and there perished
miserably, as such high spirits generally do.
The first act of Nicholas, when he became a rich and pros-
perous merchant, was to buy his father's old house. As time
crept on, and there came gradually about him a group of
lovely children, it was altered and enlarged ; but none of the
old rooms were ever pulled down, no old tree was ever rooted
up, nothing with which there was any association of bygone
times was ever removed or changed.
Within a stone's-throw was another retreat, enlivened by
children's pleasant voices too ; and here was Kate, with many
new cares and occupations, and many new faces court^ing her
sweet smile (and one so like her own, that to her mother she
seemed a child again), the same true gentle creature, the same
fond sister, the same in the love of all about her, as in her
girlish days.
Mrs. Nickleby lived, sometimes with her daughter, and
sometimes with her son, accompanying one or other of them to
London at those periods when the cares of business obliged
both families to reside there, and always preserving a great
appearance of dignity, and relating her experiences (espe-
cially on points connected with the management and bringing-
up of children) with much solemnity and importance. It was
a very long time before she could be induced to receive Mrs.
Linkinwater into favor, and it is even doubtful whether she
ever thoroughly forgave her.
There was one gray-haired quiet harmless gentleman, who,
winter and summer, lived in a little cottage hard by Nicholas's
house, and, when he was not there, assumed the superintend-
ence of affairs. His chief pleasure and delight was in the
children, with whom he was a child himself, and master of
the revels. The little people could do nothing without dear
Newman Noggs.
The grass was green above the dead boy's grave, and
trodden by feet so small and light, that not a daisy drooped
its head beneath their pressure. Through all the spring and
summer-time, garlands of fresh flowers, wreathed by infant
hands, rested on the stone ; and, when the children came there
to change them lest they should wither and be pleasant to
him no longer, their eyes filled with tears, and they spoke low
and softly of their poor dead cousin.
CHARLES DICKENS'
COMPLETE WORKS
The following Index contains the names of all the writings
of Mr. Charles Dickens, the numbers referring to the volume
in which thev will be found, in the order mentioned, as fol-
lows ;
1. Pickwick Papers.
2. David Copperkield.
3. MARTin Chuzzlewit.
4. Nicholas Nickleby.
5. Bleak Huuse.
6. LrrrLE Dorrit.
7. DoMBEY & Son.
8. Our Mutual Friend.
9. Oliver Twist, Pictures fro.m
Italy, and American Notes.
10. Old Curiosity Shop and
Hard Times.
11. Tale of Two Cities and
Sketches by Boz.
12. Barnaby Rudge a-nd Myst-
ery of Edwin Drood.
13. Gre.\t Expectations, Un-
commercial Traveller, and
Miscellaneous.
14. Christmas Stories and Re-
printed Pieces.
15 Child's History of England
AND MiSCELL.\NEOUS.
INDEX.
Aboard Ship 13
Addit. Christmas Stories 14
Barlow, Mr 13
Barnaby Rudge 2
Battle of Life, The 14
Beadle. The ir
BegKina- Letter Writer... 14
Bill-Sticking 14
American Notes 9
Anecdotes, Three Detec-
tive 14
B
Births 14
Black Veil. The n
Bleak House 5
Blnomsbury Christmas,
The I '
Boarding Hou«e, The 11
Birth-Day Celebrations.. 13 | Boiled Beef of N. Engl'd 13
Arcadian London 13
Astleys 11
Bound for the Great Salt
Lake 13
Boy at Mugby, The.. .. 14
Boz, Sketches by ii
Broker's Mnn, The 11
Brnkers' & ^L^rine-Store
Shops II
(821)
822
INDEX.
Calais Night Mail, The.. 13
Chambers 13
Characters 11
Chatham Dockyard 13
Child's Dream of a Star. 14
Child's History of Enj;-
land 15
Child's Story, The 14
Chimes, The 14
Christmas Carol, A. ... 14
Christmas Dinner, A . . . . 11
Dancing Academy, The.. 1 1
Detective Anecdotes 14
Detective Police, The.. 14
Early Coaches 11
Edwin Drood, Mystery of 12
Egotistical Couple, The 13
Fairv Tale, Prince Bull.. 14
First of May, The 11
First Omnibus Cad 11
Ghost of Art. The 14
Ghost Stories, Two 14
Ghost's Bargains, The . . 14
c.
Christmas Stories 14
Christmas Tree, A 14
Christmas Stories, Addi-
tional 14
Chuzzlewit, Martin 3
City of London Churches 13
City of the Absent, The 13
Clock, Master Humph-
rey's 15
Contradictory Couple. .. 13
Cool Couple, The 13
D.
Doctor's Commons 11
Dombey & Son 7
Down with the Tide ... 14
E.
Election for Beadle 11
England, History of.
Child's 15
F.
Flight, A 14
Fly-Leaf in a Life, A. ... 13
Formal Couple, The ... 13
G.
Gin Shops u
Going into Society 15
Great Expectations 13
Copperfield, David a
Couple who coddle them-
selves, The 13
Couple who dote upon
their Children, The... 13
Couples, young, Sketches
of 13
Cricket in the Hearth,
The 14
Criminal Courts 11
Curate, The 11
Drood, Edwin, Mystery of n
Drunkard's Death, The. 11
Dullborough Town 13
English Watering Place,
Our 14
Expectations, Great.... 13
Four Sisters, The 11
French Flemish Country. 13
French Watering Place. 14
Great Tasmania's Cargo 13
Great Winglebury Duel, 1 1
Greenwich Fair. ...... 11
Hackney Coach Stand.. 11
Half-Pay Captain, The. . 11
Hard Times... . . ... 10
Haunted House, The... 15
Haunted Man, The 14
Inspector Field, On Duty
with 14
H.
His General Line of Busi-
ness 13
History of England,
Child's 15
Holiday Romance 15
Holly Tree Inn 10
Horatio Sparkins ii
Hospital Patient, The.. 11
Humphrey, Mast'r, clock 15
Italian Prisoner, The.... 13 I Italy, Pictures from g
Ladies' Societies, The.. 11
Last Cab Driver, The.. 11
Ivirriper's, Mrs., Lodg-
ings . 14
Making a Night of It n
M.irigold, Dr 14
Master Humphrey's
Clock . . 15
Medicine Men of Civil-
ization 13
L.
Lirriper's, Mrs., Legacy 14
Little Dinner in an Hour,
A 13
Little Dorrit 6
M.
Meditations in Monmouth
Street 11
Meek, Mrs., of a Son... 14
Minns, Mr., and his
cousin II
Misplaced Attachment of
London Recreations. ... 11
Long Voyage, The 14
Loving Couple, The 13
Lying Awake 14
Mr. John Dounce 11
Mistaken Milliner, The.. 11
Miss Evans and the Eagle 11
Monument of French
KoUv, A... 14
Mudfog Association, The 15
INDEX.
823
New Uncommercial Sam-
ples 13
New Year, Tile n
Newgale, A Visit to 11
Old Couple, The 13
Old Curiosity Shop 10
Old Lady, The 1 1
Old Stage Coaching
House 13
Oliver Twist 9
Omnibuses it
On an Amateur Beat 13
Parish Engine, The 11
Parish, Our 11
Parliamentary Sketch, A 11
Parlor Orator, The 1 1
Passage in the Life of Mr.
Watkins Tottle 11
Pawnbroker's Shop, The 11
Pieces, Reprinted 14
Perils of certain English
Refreshments for Travel-
lers 13
Samples, New Uncom-
mercial 13
Scenes 11
Schoolboy's Story, The 14
Schoolmaster, The 11
Scotland Yard 11
Sentiment 11
Seven Poor Travellers,
The 14
Tale of Two Cities 11
Tales II
Thoughts about People., n
Three Detective Anec-
dotes 14
Uncommercial Samples,
New 13
Walk in a Workhouse, A 14
Wapping Workhouse. ... 13
Workhouse, A Walk in a 14
N.
Nice Little Couple, The 13
Nlckleby, Nicholas... . 4
Night Walks 13
Noble Savage. The 14
O.
On duty with Inspector
Field 14
Our Bore 14
Our English Watering
Place 14
Our French Watering
Place 14
P.
Travellers 15
Pickwick Papers i
Pictures from Italy 9
Plated Article, A 14
Plausible Couple, The.. 13
Plea for Total Abstin-
ence 13
Poor Man's Tale of a
Patent 14
R.
Reprinted Pieces 14
River, The 11
S.
Seven Dials 11
Sii.ibby Genteel People.. 11
Shipwreck, The 13
Shops and their Tenants 11
Shy Nt-'ighborhoods 13
Signal Man, The 14
Silverman's, George, Ex-
planation 15
Sketches by Boz.. 11
T.
Titbull's Alms-houses.. 13
Tom Tiddler's Ground . 15
Tramps 13
Traveller, Uncommercial 13
Travelling Abroad 13
Trial for Murder, The.. 14
U. V.
Uncommercial Traveller 13
Visit to Newgate 11
W. Y.
Wreck of the Golden
Mary 15
Nobody's Story 14
No Thoroughfare 15
Notes, American 9
Nurse's Stones ij
Our Honorable Friend.. 14
Our Mutual Friend 8
Our Next Door Neighbor 11
Our Parish 11
Our School 14
Our Vestry 14
Out of the Season 14
Out of Town 14
Poor Mercantile Jack... 13
Poor Relation's Story,
The 14
Porter, Mrs. Joseph 11
Prince Bull, a Fairy
Tale 14
Private Theatres 11
Prisoners' Van, The.... 11
Public Dinners 11
Romance, Holiday 15
Rudge, Barnaby 12
Sketchesof Young
Couples 13
Small Star in the East, A 13
Somebody's Luggage.. • . 14
Some Recollections of
Mortality 13
Steam Excursion, The . n
Streets — Morning 11
Streets — Evening 11
Twist, Oliver 9
Two Ghost Stories 14
Two Views of a Cheap
Theatre 13
Tugg'sat Ramsgate, The 11
Vauxhall Gardens by
Day II
Young Couple, The . 13
Young Couples, Sketches
of 13
i
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