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The life and adventures of Nicholas Nick
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THE UNIVERSAL EDITION
OP
THE WORKS OF CHARLES DICKENS
IN 22 VOLUMES
THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
" The Life and Adventures of Nicholas
Nlcldeby " was first published as a volume in
1839, having previously ieen issued in twenty
monthly parts, from April, 1838, to Octoher,
1839. Its full title was " The Life and Adven-
tures of Nicholas Nickleby: containing a faithful
account of the fortunes, misfortunes, uprisings,
downfallings, and complete career of the
NicklAy family' '
This Edition contains all the emendations
made in the text as revised hy the Author in
1867 and 1868, a portrait of the novelist hy
Daniel Maclise, M.A., and reproductions of the
original illustrations by Fhiz.
4
4
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fi
■5- (--A'^:
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•^
THE
LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
BY
CHARLES DICKENS
WITH 39 ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ
AND A PORTRAIT OF CHARLES DICKENS
BY DANIEL MACLISE, R.A.
LONDON
CHAPMAN & HALL, Ltd.
New York: CHAr!!eS SGRIBNER'S SONS
1914
1
PREFACES, ETC,
NICKLEBY PROCLAMATION BY " BOZ,"
1838
On the Thirty-first of March will he puhlishedj to he continued
Monthly, price One Shilling, and completed in Twenty ' Parts,
the First Numher of "The Life and Adventures op Nicholas
NiCKLEBY ; " containing a faithful account of the Fortunes, Mis-
fortunes, Uprisings, Downfallings, and Complete Career of the
Nicklehy Family. Edited hy "Boz." And each Monthly Part
embellished with Two Illustrations by " Phiz."
proclamation.
S291)ttta3 we are the only true and lawful " Boz."
^nJj fofitttHg it hath been reported to us, who are com-
mencing a New Work, to be called —
"THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES
OF
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,"
That some dishonest dullards, resident in the by-streets
and cellars of this town, impose upon the unwary and credulous,
by producing cheap and wretched imitations of our delectable
Works.
vi PfiEl'ACES, ETC.
^nb fuDeVEaS, we derive but small comfort under this injury,
from the knowledge that the dishonest dullards aforesaid,
cannot, by reason of their mental smallness, follow near our
heels, but are constrained to creep along by dirty and little
frequented ways, at a most respectful and humble distance
behind.
^niJ iojieita^, in like manner, as some other vermin are not
worth the killing for the sake of their carcases, so these
kennel pirates are not worth the powder and shot of the
law, inasmuch as whatever damages they may commit, they
are in no condition to pay any.
This is to give Notwe,
Firstly,
To Pirates.
That we have at length devised a mode of execution
for them, so summary and terrible, that if any gang or
gangs thereof presume to hoist but one shred of the
colours of the good ship Nickleiy, we will hang them on
gibbets so lofty and enduring, that their remains shall
be a monument of our just vengeance to all succeeding
ages ; and it shall not lie in the power of any Lord High
Admiral, on earth, to cause them to be .taken down
again.
Secondly,
To THE Public,
That in our new work, as in our preceding one, it will
be our aim to amuse, by producing a rapid succession
of characters and incidents, and describing them as
cheerfully and pleasantly as in us lies; that we have
wandered into fresh fields and pastures new, to seek
materials for the purpose ; and that, in behalf of Nidiolas
NicMeby, we confidently hope to enlist both their
heartiest merriment and their kindliest sympathies.
rilEFACES, ETC. vii
Thirdly,
To THE Potentates of Patervoster Row.
That from the Thirtieth Day of March next, until
further notice, we shall hold our Eevees, as heretofore,
on the last evening but one of every month, between
the hours of seven and nine, at our Board of Trade,
Number One Hundred and Eighty-six in the Strand,
London ; where we again request the attendance (in
vast crowds) of their accredited agents and ambassadors.
Gentlemen to wear knots upon their shoulders ; and
patent cabs to draw up with their doors towards the
grand entrance, for the convenience of loading.
Given at the office of our Board of Trade aforesaid, in
the presence of our Secretaries, Edward Chapman
and William Hall, on this Twenty-eighth day
of February, One Thousand Eight Hundred and
Thirty-eight.
(Signed) BOZ.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION
It has afforded the Author gieat amusement and satisfac-
tion, during the progress of this work, to learn from country
friends and from a variety of ludicrous statements concerning
himself in provincial newspapers, that more than one 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 committing
viii PREFACES, ETC.
an assault and battery upon his traducer ; a third perfectly
remembers being waited on, last January twelvemonth, by two
gentlemen, one of whom held him in conversation while the
other took his likeness ; and, although Mr. Squeers has but
one eye, and he has two, ahd the published sketch does not
resemble him (whoever he may be) in any other respect, still
he and all his friends and n&ighbours 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 class, 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 recognise some-
thing belonging to themselves, and each will have a misgiving
that the portrait is his own.
To this general description, as to most others, there may
be some exceptions ; and although the Author neither saw
nor heard of any in the course of an excursion which he
made into Yorkshire, before he commenced these adventures,
or before or since, it affords him much more pleasure to
assume their existence than to doubt it. He has dwelt thus
long upon this point, because his 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 dis-
figurements 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
PREFACES, ETC. ix
private quarters far beyond the reach of suspicion or distrust,
accounts of atrocities, in the perpetration of which upon
neglected or repudiated children these schools have been the
main instruments, very far exceeding any that appear in
these pages.
To turn to a more pleasant subject, it may be right to say,
that there are 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 blemishes,
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. For this reason, they
have been very slightly and imperfectly sketched. Those who
take an interest in this tale will be glad to learn that the
BiioTHERS 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 honour.
It only now remains for the writer of these passages, with
that feeling of regret with which we leave almost any pursuit
that has for a long time occupied us and engaged our thoughts,
and which is naturally augmented in such a case as this,
when that pursuit has been surrounded by all that could
animate and cheer him on, — it only now remains for him,
before abandoning his task, to bid his readers farewell.
" The author of a periodical performance," says Mackenzie,
"has indeed a claim to the attention and regard of his
readers, more interesting than that of any other writer.
Other writers submit their sentiments to their readers, with
the reserve and circumspection of him who has had time to
prepare for a public appearance. He who has followed
Horace's rule, of keeping his book nine years in his study,
X PREFACES, ETC.
must have withdrawn many an idea which in the warmth of
composition he had conceived, and altered many an expression
which in the hurry of writing he had set down. But the
periodical essayist commits to his readers the feelings of the
day, in the language which those feelings have prompted.
As he has delivered himself with the freedom of intimacy and
the cordiality of friendship, he will naturally look for the
indulgence which those relations may claim ; and when he
bids his readers adieu, will hope, as well as feel, the regrets
of an acquaintance, and the tenderness of a friend."
With such feelings and such hopes the periodical essayist,
the Author of these pages, now lays them before his readers
in a completed form, flattering himself, like the writer just
quoted, that on the first of next month they may miss his
company at the accustomed time as something which used
to be expected with pleasure ; and think of the papers which
on that day of so many past months they have read, as the
correspondence of one who wished their happiness, and
contributed to their amusement.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST CHEAP
EDITION
This story was begun within a few months after the
publication 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, this class of
TREFACES, ETC. xi
schools long afforded 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
functions he undertook, 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 chemist, 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 that might naturally be expected
to arise from such a state of things, and to flourish in it j
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 helplessness of
children ; ignorant, sordid, brutal men, to whom few considerate
persons would have entrusted the board and lodging of a
horse or a dog ; they formed the worthy corner-stone of a
structure, which, for absurdity and a magnificent higli-
handed laissez-aller neglect, has rarely been exceeded in the
world.
We hear sometimes of an action for damages against the
unqualified medical practitioner, who has deformed a broken
limb in pretending to heal it. But, what about 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
disappeared, 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, to those who
can afford to pay for it.
I cannot call to mind, now, how I came to hear about
Yorkshire schools when I was a not very robust child, sitting
in bye-places, near Rochester Castle, with a head full of
xii PREFACES, ETC.
Partridge, 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 suppurated abscess that some boy had come home
with, in consequence of his Yorkshire guide, philosopher and
friend, having ripped it open with an inliy pen-knife. The
impression made upon me, however made, never left me. I
was always curious about them — 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 pretty
faithfully described herein. As I wanted to see a school-
master or two, and was forewarned that those gentlemen
might, in their modesty, be shy of receiving a visit from the
author of the Piclcwick Papers, I consulted with a professional
friend here, who had a Yorkshire connection, and with whom
I concerted a pious fraud. He gave me some letters of
introduction, in the name, I think, of my travelling com-
panion ; 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 neighbourhood, the
writer would be very much obliged.
I went to several places in that part of the country where
I understood these schools to be most plentifully sprinkled,
and had no occasion to deliver a letter until I came to a
certain 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.
PREFACES, ETC. xiii
I am afraid he is dead now. I recollect he was a jovial
ruddy, broadfaced 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 ? " I asked him, in reference to the letter.
" Oh yes," he said ; " there was a pratty big \in." " Was it
a good one ? " I asked. " Ey I " he said, " it was as good as
anoother; that was a' a matther of opinion;" and fell to
looking at the fire, staring round the room, and whistling a
little. On my reverting to some other topic that we had
been discussing, 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 un-
comfortable. 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 vary pleasant toogather,
and ar'U spak' my moind tiv'ee. Dinnot let the weedur send
her lattle boy to yan o' our schoolmeasthers, while there's a
harse to hoold in a' Lunnun, or a goother 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
tell'ee, for weedur's sak', to keep the lattle boy from a' sike
scoondrels while there's a harse to hoold in a' Lunnon, or a
goother 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 Browdie.
In reference to these gentry, I may here quote a few words
from the original preface to this book.
" It has a:fforded the Author great amusement and satisfac-
tion, during the progress of this work, to learn, from country
friends and from a variety of ludicrous statements concern-
ing himself in provincial newspapers, that more than one
xiv PREFACES, ETC.
Yoi-kshire 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
committing 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 conver-
sation 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 neighbours 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 class, 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 recognise something
belonging to themselves, and each will have a misgiving 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 in-
flicted 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 eno-aged
upon these Adventures, he has received, from private quarters
far beyond the reach of suspicion or distrust, accounts of
PREFACES, ETC. xy
atrocities, in the perpetration of which, upon neglected or
repudiated children, these schools have been the main instru-
ments, 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, I had resolved to reprint a few of these
details of legal proceedings, from certain old newspapers;
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- are two characters in this book which arc
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 blemishes, 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 honour."
If I were to attempt to sum up the hundreds upon hundreds
of letters, from all sorts of people in all sorts of latitudes and
climates, to which this unlucky paragraph has since given
rise, I should get into an arithmetical difficulty from which
I could not easily extricate myself. Suffice it to saj', that
I believe the applications for loans, gifts, and offices of profit
that I have been requested to forward to the originals of the
Brothers Cheeryble (with whom I never interchanged any
communication 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. 5
xvi I'REFACES, ETC.
There is only one other point, on which I would 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.
Devonshike Tekkace, May, 1848.
CONTENTS
PAGE
ii
Bibliographical Note i . .
NicKLBBY Proclamation by " Boz," 1838 v
Preface to the First Edition \ii
Preface to the First Cheap Edition x
CHAPTEB I
Introduces all the rest 1
CHAPTER II
Of Mr. Ealph Nickleby, and his Establishment, and his Under-
takings. And of a great Joint Stock Company of vast
National Importance 5
CHAPTER 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 15
CHAPTER IV
Nicholas and his Uncle (to secure the Fortune without loss of
time) wait upon Mr. Wackford Squeers, the Yorkshire
Schoolmaster 25
CHAPTER V
Nicholas starts for Yorkshire. Of his Leave-taking and his
Fellow-Travellers, and what befel them on the Road . . 36
xviii CONTENTS
CHAPTEE VI
PAGE
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 45
CHAPTER VII
Mr. and Mrs. Squeers at Home .65
CHAPTEE VIII
Of the Internal Economy of Dotheboys Hall . . t . 72
CHAPTEE IX
Of Miss Squeers, Mrs. Squeers, Master Squeers, and Mr.
Squeers ; and of various Matters and Persons connected no
less with the Squeerses than with Nicholas Nickleby . 83
CHAPTEE X
How Mr. Ealph Nickleby provided for his Niece and Sister-in-
Law 96
CHAPTER XI
Newman Noggs inducts Mrs. and Miss Nickleby into their New
Dwelling in the City 108
CHAPTEE XII
Whereby the Eeader will be enabled to trace the further course of
Miss Fanny Squeers's Love, and to ascertain whether it ran
smooth or otherwise 113
CHAPTEE XIII
Nicholas varies the Monotony of Dotheboys Hall by a most
vigorous and remarkable Proceeding, which leads to
Consequences of some Importance 122
CHAPTEE XIV
Having the Misfortune to treat of none but Common People, is
necessarily of a Mean and Vulgar Character .... 134
CONTENTS six
CHAPTEE XV
Acquaints the Header with the Cause and Origin of the Inter-
ruption described in the last Chapter, and with some other
Matters necessary to be known 145
CHAPTEE XVI
Nicholas seeks to employ himself in a New Capacity, and being
unsuccessful, accepts an engagement as Tutor in a Private
Family 156
CHAPTER XVII
Follows the Fortunes of Miss Nickleby 173
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 . . . 181
CHAPTER 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 .... 193
CHAPTEE XX
Wherein Nicholas at length encounters his Uncle, to whom he
expresses his Sentiments with much Candour. His
Resolution 207
CHAPTEE XXI
Madame Mantalini finds herself in a Situation of some Difficulty,
and Miss Nickleby finds herself in no Situation at all . . 217
CHAPTER XXII
Nicholas, accompanied by Smilce, sallies forth to seek his Fortune,
He encounters Mr. Vincent Crummies ; and who he was, is
herein made manifest. . « - 228
XX CONTENTS
CHAPTER XXIII
PAGE
Treats of the Company of Mr. Vincent Crummies, and of his
Affairs, Domestic and Theatrical 241
CHAPTEE XXIV
Of the Great Bespeak for Miss Snevelli 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 im-
portance in his days of afHuence : which recitals produced a very
different impression on the two : for, while the younger, who 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 a 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 acquisition 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 of it to him too, for he had the
pleasure of thinking of it all his hfe long, and of being envied and
courted by all his family besides.' And Ralph always wound
up these mental soliloquies by arriving, at the conclusion, that there
was nothing like money.
Not confining himself to theory, 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 his borrowers with
abstract calculations of figures or reference 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, arid which, as a familiar precept, more easily acquired
and retained in the memory than 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-discounters. Indeed, to do these gentlemen justice, many of
them are to this day in the frequent habit of adopting it, with
eminent 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 em-
barrassing, 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
4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
the Monday, or on the Friday, the amount of interest should be, in
both cases, the same. Indeed 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 very fairly
presumed to be in great extremity, otherwise he would not
borrow at all with such odds against him. This fact is interesting,
as illustrating the secret connection and sympathy which always
exists 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, applied 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 recollection 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 than the fumes of charcoal — it
brought along with it a companion thought, that if they were
intimate he would want to borrow money of him. 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 neighbouring gentleman with a dower of one thousand
pounds. This good lady bore him two children, a son and a
daughter, and when the son was about nineteen, and the daughter
fourteen, as near as we can guess — impartial records of young
ladies' ages being, before the passing of the new act, nowhere pre-
served in the registries of this country — Mr. Nickleby looked about
him for the means of repairing 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.
FINANCIAL RUIN 5
' 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 in the way of 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 7w7/ 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. Nickleby. A mania prevailed, a
bubble burst, four stock-brokers 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.
' You mustn't let yourself be cast down, sir,' said the nurse,
' Such things happen every day,' remarked the lawyer.
'And it is very sinful to rebel against them,' whispered the
clergyman.
'And what no man with a family ought to do,' added the neighbours.
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 times when they were at school
together. The 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 n
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 attorney, 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
6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
gentleman; for it would have been impossible to mention any
recognised profession to which he belonged. Nevertheless, as he
lived in a spacious house in Golden Square, which, in additiori to
a brass plate upon the street-door, had another brass plate two sizes
and a half smaller 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 ' Olfice,' it was clear that Mr. Ralph Nickleby
did, or pretended to do, business of some kind ; and the fact, if
it required any further circumstantial evidence, was 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 species 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
Golden Square, it is not exactly in anybody's way to or from any-
where. It is one of the squares that have been ; a quarter of the
town that has gone down in the world, and taken to letting lodgings.
Many of its first and second floors are let, furnished, to single
gentlemen ; and it takes boarders besides. It is a great resort of
foreigners. The dark-complexioned men who wear large rings, and
heavy watch-guards, and bushy whiskers, and who congregate under
the Opera Colonnade, 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 summer's night, windows are
thrown open, and groups of swarthy mustachioed 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
violoncellos, divide the supremacy between them. 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 transaction
of business ; but Mr. Ralph Nickleby had lived there, notwithstand-
ing, 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 rich. The tradesmen
held that he was a sort of lawyer, and the other neighbours opined
that he was a kind of general agent; both of which guesses were as
MR. RALPH NICKLEBY AT HOME 1
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 morning, ready
dressed to walk abroad. He wore a bottle-green spencer over a
blue coat ; a white waistcoat, grey mixture pantaloons, and Welling-
ton boots drawn over them. The comer 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 ; but 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. However this might be, there he was ; and as 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 process, 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 unre-
claimed 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 hampers, half-a-dozen broken bottles, and
such-like rabbish, 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 everbrowns,
and broken flower-pots, that are scattered mournfully about — a prey
to ' blacks ' and dirt.
It was into a place of this kind that Mr. Ralph Nickleby gazed,
as he sat with his hands in his pockets looking out of window. He
had fixed his eyes upon a distorted fir-tree, planted by some former
8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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. Nickleby 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 tiie 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 countless gettings
off and on), and presented himself in Mr. Nickleby's room. He
was a tall man of middle-age, with two goggle eyes whereof one
was a fixture, a rubicund nose, a cadaverous face,' and a suit of
clothes (if the term be allowable when they suited him not at all)
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) triumphed ; and
(as he rarely spoke to anybody unless somebody spoke to him) fell
into a grim silence, and nibbed his hands slowly over each other :
cracking the joints of his fingers, and squeezing them into all
possible distortions. The incessant performance of this routine on
every occasion, and the communication of a fixed and rigid look to
his unaffected 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, ' I expect a letter from the solicitor
PROMOTING A COMPANY 9
respecting that mortgage of Ruddle's. If it comes at all, it will be
here by the two o'clock delivery. I shall leave the city about 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 1 ' and, the ring being repeated, went to the door, whence he
presently returned, ushering in, by the name of Mr. Bonney, 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 knocke4 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 Parlia-
ment 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 Nickleby,
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 miUions, 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 know 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.'
10 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'Yes, poor devil!' replied Ralph, drawing on his gloves.
' Though Newman Noggs kept his horses and hounds once,'
' Aye, aye ? ' 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 paralysis, and
then came here to borrow a pound, as in his better days I
had—'
' Done business with him,' said Mr. Bonney with a meaning
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, calhng
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 taciturnity 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 hurried into the hackney cabriolet imme-
diately afterwards, perhaps Mr. Nickleby forgot to mention circum-
stances so unimportant.
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 announce-
ments that a Public Meeting would be holden at one o'clock
precisely, to take into consideration the propriety of petitioning
Parliament in favour of the United Metropolitan Improved Hot
Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company,
capital five milUons, in five hundred thousand shares of ten pounds
each ; which sums were duly set forth in fat black figures of con-
siderable size. Mr. Bonney elbowed his way briskly up 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
AN ENTHUSIASTIC MEETING it
Mr. Bonney bustled up to the top of the table, took off his hat,
ran his fingers through his hair, and knocked a hackney-coachman's
knock on the table with a little hammer : whereat several gentle-
men cried ' Hear ! ' and nodded slightly to each other, as much as
to say what spirited conduct 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 joyj and
while they were clapping them, in came Sir Matthew Pupker,
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
vote against them. Sir Matthew Pupker especially, who had a
little round head with a flaxen 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 terras with Sir Matthew Pupker or the two other
members, stood lingering, and smiling, and rubbing their hands,
in the desperate hope of something turning up which might bring
them into notice. All this time, Sir Matthew Pupker and the two
other members were relating to their separate circles what the
intentions 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, and how the government had been observed to
wink when it said so j from which premises they were at no loss to
draw the conclusion, that if the government had one object more
at heart than another, that one object was the welfare and advantage
of the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet
Baking and Punctual Delivery Company.
Meanwhile, and pending the arrangements of the proceedings,
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 enjoy-
ment 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, but entertaining nevertheless a praiseworthy desire to
do something to quell the disturbance, immediately began to drag
I* NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
forth, by the coat tails and collars, all the quiet people near th6
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 occa-
sionally follows.
Several very exciting skirmishes were in progress, when a loud
shout attracted the attention even of the belligerents, and then there
poured on 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 m 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 Sir
Matthew Pupker being voted 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-countrymen before him, and what
must be the wealth and respectability of his honorable friends
behind him, and lastly, what must be the importance to the wealth,
the happiness, the comfort, the liberty, the very existence of a free"
and great people, of such an Institution as the United Metropolitan •
Improved Hot Muffin and Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery
Company !
Mr. Bonney then presented himself to move the first resolution ;
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 generally), and said he would read to them
the first resolution — ' That this meeting views with alarm and appre-
hension, the existing state of the Muffin Trade in this Metropolis
and its neighbourhood; that it considers the Muffin Boys, as at
present constituted, wholly undeserving the confidence of the public ;
and that it deems the whole Muffin system alike prejudicial 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 eyes 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
THE RESOLUTION 13
drunkenness, debauchery, and profligacy, which he attributed to the
debasing nature of their employment as at present exercised ; he
had found the same vices among the poorer class of people who
ought to be muffin consumers ; and this he attributed to the despair
engendered by their being placed beyond 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 Commons, 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 also
prove, that these men corresponded with each other by secret words
and signs, as ' Snooks,' ' Walker,' ' Ferguson,' ' Is Murphy 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 trading 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 was this bill that
they had met to support ; it was the supporters of this bill who
would confer undying brightness and splendour upon England, under
the name of the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and
Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company ; 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 gentle-
man having moved that it be amended by the insertion of the words
' and crumpet ' after the word ' muffin,' whenever it occurred, it was
carried triumphantly. Only one man in the crowd cried ' No ! ' and
he was promptly taken into custody and straightway borne ofEi.„„
The second resolution, which recognised the expediency of imme-
diately abolishing ' all muffin (or crumpet) sellers, all traders in
muffins (or crumpets) of whatsoever description, whether male or
female, boys or men, ringing hand-bells or otherwise,' was moved
by a grievous gentleman of semi-clerical 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 very wisely urged were in
themselves a sufficient reason for the establishment of that inestim-
able 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
14 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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
for no less than five years, at length fell a victim to a cold m the
head, beneath which he gradually sunk until he fell mto a perspira-
tion and recovered ; this he could vouch for on his own authority,
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 meeting,
and this was the style of speaking to enlist their sympathies. The
men shouted ; the ladies wept into their pocket-handkerchiefs till
they were moist, and waved them till they were dry ; 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 acclamations,
every man holding up both hands in favour of it, as he would in
his enthusiasm have held up both legs also, if he could have con-
veniently 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 object very virtuous ; therefore (said the
petition) the bill ought to be passed into a law at once, to the ever-
lasting honor and glory of that most honorable and glorious Commons
of England in Parliament assembled.
Then, the gentleman who had been at Crockford's all night, and
who looked something the worse about the eyes in consequence,
came forward to tell his fellow-countrymen what a speech he meant
to make in favour 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 inserted a clause rendering the purchase
of muffins and crumpets compulsory upon all classes of tiie com-
munity, which he — opposing all half measures, and preferring to go
the extreme 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, there was
immense laughter and much cheering, and moreover such a brilliant
display of ladies' pocket-handkerchiefs as threw the grievous gentle-
man quite into the shade.
And when the petition had been read and was about to be
SAD TIDINGS ij
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 fervour, 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 humour that the poetry had
awakened ; 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 praise-
worthy, as the United Metropolitan Improved Hot Muffin and
Crumpet Baking and Punctual Delivery Company.
So, the petition in favour 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 themselves for which
trouble (as the company was yet in its infancy,) 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 COMMUNI-
CATED TO HIM. THE READER IS INFORMED HOW HE LIKED
NICHOLAS, V(fHO IS HEREIN INTRODUCED, AND HOW KINDLY HE
PROPOSED TO MAKE HIS FORTUNE AT ONCE
Having rendered his zealous assistance towards despatching the
lunch, with all that promptitude arid energy which are 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 humour. As he
passed Saint Paul's he stepped aside into a doorway to set his
watch, and with his hand on the key and his eye on the cathedral
dial, was intent upon so doing, when a man suddenly stopped before
him. It was Newman Noggs.
' Ah ! Newman,' said Mr. Nickleby, looking up as he pursued
his occupation. ' The letter abowt the mortgage has come, has it ?
I thought it would.'
1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Wrong,' replied Newman. ' . , ,
' What ! and nobody called respecting it ? ' inquired Mr. Nxckleby,
pausing. Noggs shook his head. ;
' What has come, then ? ' 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 comer.'
'Black wax?' said Mr. Nickleby, glancing at the letter. 'I
know something of that hand, too. Newman, I shouldn't be sur-
prised 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 winding up his watch.
' It is as I expected, Newman,' said Mr. Nickleby, while he was
thus engaged. ' He is 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 gloves 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,' repUed 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.'
Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face was curiously
twisted as by a spasm ; but whether of paralysis, or grief, or inward •
laughter, nobody but himself could possibly explain. The expres-
sion of a man's face is commonly a help to liis 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 instant.
' Reasonable, certainly ! ' muttered Mr. Nickleby to himself, 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 support of a great hearty
MISS LA CREEVY 17
woman, and a grown boy and girl. What are they to me ! /
never saw them.'
Full of these, and many other reflections 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 unifoi-m, flourishing a sabre ; and one
of a literary character with a high forehead, a pen and ink, six
books, and a curtain. There was, moreover, a touching represen-
tation of a young lady reading a manuscript in an unfathomable
forest, and a charming whole length of a large-headed little boy,
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 contempt,
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.
' 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
Avas 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 except 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,
c
1 8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
The voice replied that the gentleman was to walk up; but he
had walked up before it spoke, and stepping into the first floor, was
received by the wearer of the yellow head-dress, who had a gown
to correspond, and was of much the same colour herself. Miss La
Creevy was a mincing young lady of fifty, and Miss La Creev/s
apartment was the gilt frame down stairs on a larger scale and
something dirtier. , . , ,
' Hem ! ' said Miss La Creevy, coughing delicately behmd 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 disappointment — 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 the
house belonged to her, and as she had no necessity for the second-
floor rooms just then, she was in the habit of letting them. Indeed,
there was a lady from the country 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 emphasis 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 this, ma'am ? '
' Very true,' replied Miss La Creevy, not at all displeased with
this implied compliment to the apartments. ' Exceedingly 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,
A DUTY DISCHARGED 19
I believe I am the only relation they have, and I think it right that
you should know /can't support them in their extravagances. 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 paying 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, ai
present — hem — an unprotected female, cannot afford to lose by the
apartments.'
' Of course you can't, ma'am,' replied Ralph.
'Though at the same time,' added Miss La Creevy, who was
plainly wavering between her good-nature and her interest, ' 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 duty, 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
favour to look at a few specimens of my portrait painting ? '
' You're very good, ma'am,' said Mr. Nickleby, making off 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 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.
20 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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
been sitting by her. A youth, who appeared a year or two older,
stepped forward and saluted Ralph as his uncle.
'Oh,' growled Ralph, with an ill-favoured frown, 'you are
Nicholas, I suppose.'
' 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 j /
always do.'
' Mine was no common loss ! ' said Mrs. Nickleby, applying her
handkerchief to her eyes.
' It was no ?/«common loss, ma'am,' returned Ralph, as he coolly
unbuttoned bis spencer. 'Husbands die every day, ma'am, and
wives too.'
'And brothers also, sir,' said Nicholas, with' a glance of in-
dignation.
' 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,' observed
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
intense 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,' retorted the
uncle, eyeing him contemptuously.
' Whatever it be,' said Nicholas, flushed with anger, ' I shall not
look to you to make it more.'
7)/
^^^/2/iJ^tya/' i^'' J^^a/^^^-^
'PLEASE SIR, I SNEEZED' 27
deal too long, and his trousers a great deal too short, he appeared
ill at ease in his clothes, and as if he were in a perpetual 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 extraordinary shapes and dimensions 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 diminutive 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
apprehension.
' 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 hundred 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 litde 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 ? '
z3 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening gesture,
and uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed his face
harder, as if to keep the tears back; and, beyond alternately sniffing
and choking, gave no further vent to his emotions.
' Mr. Squeers,' said the waiter, looking in at this juncture : ' 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 York-
shire, where youth are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished
with pocket-money, provided with all necessaries — • '
' It is the gentleman,' observed the stranger, stopping the school-
master 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, regarding
the Academy called Dofheboys 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 ? ' With this
salutation Mr. Squeers patted the heads of two hollow-eyed, small-
boned little boys, whom the applicant had brought with him, and
waited for further communications.
' I am in the oil and colour way. My name is Snawley, sir,' said
the stranger.
Squeers inclined his head as much as to say, ' And a remarkably
pretty name, too.'
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 ? '
MR. SNAWLEY 29
' Guineas,' rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive smile.
'Pounds for two, I think, Mr. Squeers,' said Mr. Snawley,
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 recommend 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,' con-
tinued 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, drawing himself
up. ' They have come to the right shop for morals, 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 you were pious.'
' Well, sir, I hope I am a httle 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 poor
little urchin as if he were some extraordinary natural curiosity.
' He goes down 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 exchanged a very mean-
ing smile. Snawley was a sleek, flat-nosed man, clad in sombre
30 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
garments, and long black gaiters, and bearing in his countenance an
expression of much mortification and sanctity ; so, his smiling with-
out any obvious reason 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,' replied 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 schoolmaster'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'lh only their step-father.'
' Oh ! Is that it ? ' said the schoolmaster. ' That explains
it at once. I was wondering what the devil you were going to send
them to Yorkshire for. Ha ! ha ! Oh, I understand now.'
' You see I have married the mother,' pursued Snawley ; ' it's
expensive keeping boys at home, and as she has a little money in
her own right, I am afraid (women are so very foolish, 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 off, where there are no holidays —
none of those ill-judged comings home twice a year that unsettle
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 step-
father, hesitating.
' None, except a circular at Christmas, to say they never were
so happy, and hope they may never be sent for,' rejoined Squeers.
NICHOLAS INTRODUCED TO MR, SQUEERS 31
' Nothing could be better,' said the step-father, 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 unimpeachable integrity, liberality,
religious principles, and ability ? '
' Certainly I do,' replied the step-father, reciprocating the school-
master'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 inquiring for
Mr. Squeers.
' 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 morning ? '
' 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 narrowly at the
schoolmaster.
' 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 unfortunfftely — '
' —unfortunately died at Dotheboys Hall,' said Ralph, finishing
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 atten-
tion, sir, that was besto^Yed 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
32 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 litde boys on the
floor, who had been staring at each other without uttering a word,
and writhing their bodies into most remarkable contortions, accord-
ing 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, 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,' replied
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 of assuring you, that I consider Mr. Squeers a gentle-
man highly virtuous, exemplary, well-conducted, and — '
' I make no doubt of it, sir,' interrupted 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 remember 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 bye.'
'And just now,' said Ralph, 'we had better transact our own,
perhaps.'
' If you please,' said Squeers.
NOT A MASTER OF ARTS 35
' Well,' resumed Ralph, ' it's brief enough ; soon broached ; and
I hope easily concluded. You have advertised for an able assistant,
sir?"
' Precisely so,' said Squeers.
' And you really want one ? '
' Certainly,' answered Squeers.
' Here he is ! ' said Ralph. ' My nephew Nicholas, hot Trom
school, with everything he learnt there fermenting in his head, and
nothing fermenting in his pocket, is just the man you want.'
' I am afraid,' said Squeers, perplexed with such an application
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 gentleman 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 puzzled, no less by
the contrast between the simplicity of the nephew and the worldly
manner of the uncle, than by the incomprehensible 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 hobble-
dehoy, 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 f?ither 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 estabHshment of yours as an open-
ing which will lead him to fortune if he turns it to proper account.
Do you see that ? '
'Everybody must see that,' replied Squeers, half imitating 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 absolved from extending any assistance to his
mother and sister. Look at him, and think of the use he may be
D
34 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
to you in half a dozen ways ! Now, the question is, whether, for
some time to come at all events, he won't serve your purpose better
than twenty of the kind of people you would get under ordmary
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 installed in, the office
of first assistant master at Dotheboys Hall.
' Your uncle's recommendation has done it, Mr. Nickleby,' said
Wackford Squeers.
Nicholas, overjoyed 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?
Person was an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor 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 generosity ! Nicholas
felt his unexpected kindness so much that he could scarcely find
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.'
Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his worthy
uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm-hearted old gentle-
man acknowledged by a growl, hastened away to execute his com-
mission.
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 vath a latch-key as he reached the steps.
STKANGE BEHAVIOUR OF NEWMAN NOGGS 35
' 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, sat, 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 im-
pression 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 ridiculous, could
not refrain from breaking into a smile as he inquired 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 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 honours and advantages
to be derived from his appointment at that seat of learning, Dotbe-
boys Hall.
' But, what's the matter— are you ill ? ' said Nicholas, suddenly
breaking off, as his companion, after throwing himself 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
36 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 extraordinary gestures, and
the cracking of his fingers sounded louder than ever.
CHAPTER V
NICHOLAS STARTS FOR YORKSHIRE. OF HIS LEAVE-TAKING AND
HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLERS, AND WHAT BEFEL THEM ON THE
ROAD
If tears dropped into a trunk were charms to preserve its owner
from sorrow and misfortune, Nicholas Nickleby would have com-
menced 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 Avhich they rose
to impede their utterance ; that the little preparations for his journey
were made mournfully indeed. A hundred things which the anxious
care of his mother and sister deemed indispensable for his comfort,
Nicholas insisted on leaving behind, as they might prove of some
after 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 termina-
tion 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 suffocated himself in
affecting a jest or two, and forcing a melancholy laugh. Thus, they
lingered on till the hour of separating 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
MISS LA CREEVY AND THE FINE ARTS 37
sleep, and rose quite brisk and gay. He wrote a few lines in pencil
to say the good bye 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 Creevy's
sitting-room, whence shone the light of a feeble candle.
' It is I, Miss La Creevy,' said Nicholas, putting down the box
and looking in.
' Bless us ! ' exclaimed Miss La Creevy, starting and putting 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. Nickleby,
returned the lady, 'I'm waiting for the light to carry out an
idea.'
Miss La Creevy 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 Creevy ; ' 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 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,
smiling.
' Why, that depends in a great measure on the pattern,' replied
Miss La Creevy. '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 sorry 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 endeavour 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 ? '
said Miss La Creevy. ' 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
Creevy ; ' as much on your mother's and sister's account 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 Creevy 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.
38 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 Creevy 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 Creevy 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 satisfactory
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 advance of the porter, and very
probably with not half as light a heart in his breast as the man had,
although he had no waistcoat 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 ; Nicholas speedily arrived at the Saracen's
Head, Snow Hill. Having 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 htde 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 moment intent on preparing breakfast for
the little boys.
' This is twopenn'orth of milk, is it, waiter ? ' said Mr. Squeers,
looking do^vn 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 lukewarm water,
William, will y6u ? '
' To the wery top, sir ? ' inquired the waiter. ' Why, the milk
will be drownded.'
' Never you mind that,' replied Mr. Squeers. ' Serve it right for
ECONOMICAL ARRANGEMENTS 39
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 recognised Nicholas.
' Sit down, Mr. Nickleby,' said Squeers. ' Here we are, a break-
fasting you see ! '
Nicholas did 7iot 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 ? ' said Squeers,
' Very good ; don't forget the bread and lautter 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 nearest 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 schoolmaster,
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, remained 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 interesting moment
to number three ; and the process was repeated until the milk and
water terminated with number five.
40 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' And now,' said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread and butter
for three into as many portions as there were children, ' 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 schoolmaster (who
was in high good humour 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 1 '
Nicholas was considerably startled by these very economical
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 con-
cluding 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 hackney coach. /
never pay a hackney coach, ma'am, I never hire one. I haven't
been in a hackney coach of my own hiring, 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 ? Breakfast ! Bah 1 '
' Now, Nickleby,' said Squeers, coming up at the moment button-
ing his great-coat; ' I think you'd better get up behind. I'm afraid
of one of them boys falling off, and then there's twenty pound a
year gone.'
' Dear Nicholas,' whispered Kate, touching her brother's arm,
• who is that vulgar man ? '
MR. SQUEERS INTRODUCED TO KATE 41
' 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 galsj
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 rather 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 coarse-
ness ill. They are looking this way, and it is time I was in my
place. Bless you, love, and good bye ! Mother ; look forward
to our meeting again some day ! Uncle, farewell ! 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.
At this moment, when the coachman and guard were comparing
notes for the last time before starting on the subject of the way-
bill ; when porters were screwing out the last reluctant 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 pulling softly 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 distance off.
' Take it. Read it. Nobody knows. Thaf s all.'
' Stop ! ' cried Nicholas.
' No,' replied Noggs.
42 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Nicholas cried stop, again, but Newman Noggs was gone.
A minute's bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaymg 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 con-
sequently 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-humoured face and a very fresh colour,
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. Belling 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 fresh-
coloured 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 establishment
where those six boys can be brought up in an enlightened, 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 a average right through, and say a hundred pound a
year for the lot.'
' Oh ! ' said the gentieman, 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. We don't do things by halves at our*
shop. All manner of learning my boys take down, sir; the;
expense is never thought of; and they get paternal treatment and'
washing in.'
, A/r/n-Z/tJ j/i-i^^ ^X-"/ f/o
•/A^y.
MR. SQUEERS AND THE STRANGER 43
' Upon my word,' said the gentleman, glancing at Nicholas 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 great-coat pockets. ' The most unexceptionable references
are given and required. I wouldn't take a reference with any boy,
that wasn't responsible for the payment 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,' rejoined
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 the guard as he clambered up.
' 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 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 stable-
wards, 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 remarked
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 controvert 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 J having done which, he consigned the parcel to
its old place, put up his spectacles again, and stared at everybody
in turn. After this, he took another blow at the horn by way of
refreshment ; and, having now exhausted his usual topics of conver-
sation, folded his arms as well as he could in so many coats, and
44 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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
catde, which he scrutinised with a critical 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 litde pupils having been stimulated with the remains of their
breakfast, and further invigorated by sundry small cups of a curious
cordial carried by Mr. Squeers, which tasted very like toast-andr
water put into a brandy bottle by mistake, went to sleep, woke,
shivered, and cried, as their feelings prompted. Nicholas 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 circum-
stances.
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 occasioned 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-arrival of her own carriage which was to have taken her on,
and made the guard solemtdy 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 officer 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 coating 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
ADVERSE CIRCUMSTANCES 45
England, turned in, for the night, at the George at Grantham. The
remainder 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 way between it and Newark, when Nicholas, who 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
hond here ? Keep quiet, dang ye ! Wo ho ! '
' What's the matter ? ' demanded 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.
Mang on tiv 'em sumhoo. Well 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 sum o' this
46 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
here squealing inside. Cumin' cumin'. Dean't make that noise,
wooman.'
As the man spoke, he proceeded to wrench open the uppermost
door of the coach, while Nicholas, seizing the horn, awoke the
echoes far and wide with one of the most extraordinary perform-
ances on that instrument ever heard by mortal j 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 sum-
moning 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 passen-
gers were well collected together ; and a careful investigation 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 coach-
man with a contusion on the temple; Mr. Squeers with a port-
manteau 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 ap-
pearance 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 patronising 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.'
This remark called up a discourse relative to the promptitude
Nicholas had displayed, and he was overwhelmed with compliments
and commendations.
' I am very glad to have escaped, of course,' observed Squeers ;
' every man is glad when he escapes from danger ; but if any one
of my charges had beep hurt— if I had been prevented from
BY THE FIRESIDE ON THE ROADSIDE 47
restorbg 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 great-coat pocket for cards. ' They are all under the same
paternal and affectionate 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 gentleman. 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 fastidious 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 merrier 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 gentle-
men. Landlord, pray direct a boy to keep watch outside the door
— and if a green chariot passes in the direction 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 would have
a coachman with a gold-laced hat on the box, and a footman, most
probably in silk stockings, behind, the attentions of the good
woman of the inn were redoubled. Even the box-passenger caught
the infection, and growing wonderfully deferential, immediately
inquired whether there was not very 'good society in that neighbour-
hood, to which the lady rephed 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 been all
sitting round the fire, for some time, in silence, ' and as he must be
48 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 mourning. He
was not past the middle age, but his hair was grey ; it seemed to
have been prematurely turned by care or sorrow. He readily
acceded to the proposal, and appeared to be prepossessed by the
frank good-nature of the individual from whom it emanated.
This latter personage took upon himself the office of tapster,
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 grey-haired gentleman appeared to be well acquainted. When
this topic flagged, he turned with a smile to the grey-headed gentle-
man, 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-humoured 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 expression of surprise
regarding the absence of the green chariot, one or two voices
urged upon the president himself, the propriety of making an
attempt for the general benefit.
' I would if I could,' said he of the good-tempered face ; ' for I
hold that in this, as in all other cases where people who are
strangers to each other are thrown unexpectedly together, they
should endeavour 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 grey-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 grey-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
GLIMPSES OF EDEN 49
THE FIVE SISTERS OF YORK
After a murmur of approbation from the other passengers, during
which the fastidious lady drank a glass of punch unobserved, the
grey-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. 'v
'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 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 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, chaTes 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 beauti-
ful things in nature, were its pure affections. Her gleesome 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 th?y missed its sweetness. Alice, dear Alice;-
what living thing within the sphere of her gentle witchery could fail
to love her !
' You may seek iii vain, now, for the spot on which these sisters
lived, for their very 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
cf rudely-carved oak, which stood within a pleasant orchard, and
50 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 fra-
ternity 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 bent 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 ?
1 ' With eyes bent upon the ground, then, or only raised enough to
prevent his stumbling over such obstacles as lay on his way, the
religious man moved slowly forward until he reached a small
postern in the wall of the sisters' orchard, 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 reverence, and
the eldest motioned him to a mossy seat beside them. But the
good friar shook his head, and bumped himself down on a very
hard stone, — ^at which, no doubt, approving 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 ! "
J^' ■y'i^-^yif^!c^ (/'^/??/('_
THE FRIAR'S ADVICE 51
' " 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 occupa-
tion is a blameless one ? "
'"See here,'' said the friar, taking the frame from her hand,
" an intricate winding of gaudy colours, 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. Daughters, is there no better way to pass the
fleeting hours ? "
' The four elder sisters cast down their eves as if abashed by the
holy man's reproof, but Alice raised hers, and bent them mildly on
the friar.
' " Our dear mother," 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, somewhat
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 colours 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 ! "
52 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' " 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 portion, but, oh, let us die
with life about us ; when our cold 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 fore-
head. " 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 virtue 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 according 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 before, 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 eldest 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 thmgs
is charged, in after life, with bitter disappointment, 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. Find me the cell which shall be colder than the
A SHADOW FALLS ON NATURE 53
fire of mortals grows when dimmed by calamity and trial, and there
weep for the drearns 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 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 armour, 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 morn-
ing 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 armour, 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 stone's-throw of the abbey. A blight had fallen on
the trees and shrubs ; and the wind, at length beginning 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 skimmed in fantastic flights through the
heavy air, and the ground was alive 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.
54 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' But not again did his ear encounter the sound of laughter, or
his eyes rest upon the beautiful figures of the five Jsisters. 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 indifference or abstraction of one well accustomed
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 a 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 trembling
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 " God 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 ej^es, and hung upon
thy very breath when first he saw thee intent upon this pastime,
lies buried on a plain whereof the turf is red with blood. Rusty
fragments of armour, 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
splendour. The same policy, and the restless ambition 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
THE FiVte SISTERS 55
mortification on their heads, keep them down, and let the convent
be their grave ! "
'The sisters asked for three days to dehberatej and felt, that
night, as though the veil were indeed the flitting shroud for their
dead joys. But, morning came again, and though the bows 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 every walk and nook
which Alice had made glad ; and in the minster nave was one flat
stone beneath 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 colours, and throw-
ing a stream of brilliant light upon the pavement, fell warmly on
the name of ^Itcc.
' For many hours in every day, the sisters paced slowly up and
down the nave, or knelt by the side of the flat broad 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 colours, but the same stream of light still falls
upon the forgotten tomb, of which no trace remains; 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 gentleman,
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.
S6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'She would have died earlier, perhaps, had she been less happy/
said die first speaker, with much feeling. ' Do you think the sistera
who loved her so well, would have grieved the less if her life had
been one of gloom and sadness? If anything 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 there, and loving
all about them, had prepared themselves for a purer and happier
world. The sun does not shine upon this fair earth to meet
frowning eyes, depend upon it.'
' I believe you are right,' said the gendeman 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-
' It does,' interposed the other.
'Well; it does. To remember happiness which cannot be
restored is pain, but of a softened kind. Our recollections are
unfortunately mingled with much that we deplore, and with many
actions which we bitterly repent ; still in the 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 grey-haired
gentleman 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 mis-called philosophers tell us what
they will. If our affections be tried, our affections are our con-
solation 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 something
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 ? There were many strange circumstances con-
nected with this venerable building, among which, not the least
THE BARON OF GROGZWIG 57
startling and mysterious were, that when the wind blew, it rumbled
in the chimneys, or even howled among the trees in the neighbour-
ing 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 snort of money, had inserted a dagger in a gentleman who
called one night to ask his way, and it a^^j' supposed that these
miraculous occurrences took place in consequence. And yet I
hardly know how that could have been, either, because the
baron's ancestor, who was an amiable man, felt very sorry after-
wards 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.
' Talking of the baron's ancestor puts me in mind of the baron's
great claims to respect on the score of his 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 wish that he had lived in these latter days, that he might
have had more. It is a very hard thing upon the great men of 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
reasonably 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 know — 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 ! He was
a fine swarthy fellow, with dark hair and large moustachios, 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 rail-
ings, 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 afterwards.
' This was a merry life for the Baron of Grogzwig, and a merrier
still for tiie 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 five-and-twenty
S8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 quarrelling 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 Nimrod
or Gillingwater, and slaughtered " another fine bear," and brought
him home in triumph, the Baron Von Koeldwethout 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 honoured 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 unchange-
able.
' " 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 demand her
in marriage of her father, ere the sun goes down to-morrow. If he
refuse our suit, w^e 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 of window, or rather the baron turned
out of window, and the castle demolished. The damsel held her
peace, however, when an early messenger bore the request of Von
Koeldwethout 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 horseman with
THE BARONESS VON KOELDWETHOUT 59
the large moustachios was her proffered husband, than she hastened
to her father's presence, and expressed her readiness to sacrifice her-
self to secure his peace. The venerable baron caught his child to
his arms, and shed a wink of joy.
' There was great feasting at the castle, that day. The four-and-
twenty Lincoln greens of Von Koeldwethout exchanged vows of
eternal friendship with twelve Lincoln greens of Von Swillehhausen,
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 gaily 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 themselves, 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 Lincoln greens were
taking a copious stirrup-cup, preparatory to issuing 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 things), and not according
to their own. All I need say, just now, is, that the Baroness Von
6o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Koeldwethout somehow or other acquired great control ovef the
Baron Von Koeldwethout, and that, little by litde, and bit by bit,
and day by day, and year by year, the baron got the worst of some
disputed question, or was shly 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 revelry, 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 hon 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 honour 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 young baron, and so on,
every year, either a baron or baroness (and one year both together),
until the baron found himself 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 contributing
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 wife was at least no worse off than
the wives of other barons, the Baroness Von Swillenhausen begged
all persons to take notice, that nobody but she sympathised with
her dear daughter's sufferings ; upon which, her relations and friends
remarked, 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
liimself 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, though the Swillenhausen family had
looked upon them as inexhaustible; 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
replenishing 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
A SPECTRE CALLS UPON THE BARON 6i
from a cupboard hard by, and having sharpened it on his boot,
made what boys call " an offer " at his throat.
' " Hera ! " said the baron, stopping short. " Perhaps it's not
sharp 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 upstairs 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 Koeld-
wethout 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.
' " I'll 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 Grogzwig threw him-
self back in his chair, stretched his legs out before the fire, and
puffed away.
'He thought about a great many things — about his present
troubles and past days of bachelorship, and about the Lincoln
,greens, long since dispersed up and down the country, no one
knew whither : with the exception of two who had been unfortu-
nately beheaded, and four who had killed themselves with drinking.
His mind was running upon bears and boars, when, in the process
of draining his glass to the bottom, 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 cadaverous face, shadowed
by jagged and matted locks of coarse black hair. He wore a kind
of tunic of a dull bluish colour, 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 armour ; and over his left shoulder he wore a short
62 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 scornfully.
' " I am the Genius of Despair and Suicide," said the apparition.
" Now you know me."
' With these words the apparition turned towards the baron, as
if composing himself for a talk — and, what was very remarkable,
was, that be 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 ? "
' " 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," replied the figure, with a shudder j "that breeds
cheerfulness."
'The baron took another look at his new friend, whom he
THE BARON WAVERING 63
thought an uncommonly queer customer, and at length inquired
whether he took any active part in such little proceedings 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 j
" 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 hunting-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."
' 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 coifers," cried the genius.
' " Well ; but they may be one day filled again," said the baron.
' " Scolding wives," snarled the genius.
' " Oh 1 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 opinions 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.
64 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' " But I am not joking ; I was never farther from it," remon-
strated 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 I 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 mean-
while 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 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 grey-headed gentleman 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
APPROACHING DOTHEBOYS HALL 63
his nap, both the Baron of Grogzwig and the grey-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 themselves by
looking at the coach as it changed horses, while he ran into the
tavern and went through the leg-stretching process 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 labouring 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 inducing 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 Dotheboys 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 intelligence
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
66 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
in nowise disposed to volunteer any observations, contented him-
self with lashing the pony until they reached their joume/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 impatient
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 bam and stable adjoining. After the lapse of a
minute or two, the noise of somebody unlocking the yard-gate was
heard, and presently a tall lean boy, with a lantern in his hand,
issued forth.
' 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 fire,' answered Smike, with
humility.
' Fire ! what fire ? Where's there a fire ? ' demanded the school-
master, sharply.
' Only in the kitchen, sir,' repUed 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 crowding 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, presented itself to him in most
alarming colours ; 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 had never 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 bolted the
door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small parlour 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.
MRS. SQUEERS 67
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,
was about half a head taller than Mr. Squeers, and was dressed in
a dimity night-jacket ; with 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 Squeery ? ' said this lady in a playful manner, and a
very 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 always at
something of that sort.'
' Never was such a boy, I do believe,' said Mrs. Squeers ; ' what-
ever 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 try what can
be done.'
Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood, awkwardly
enough, in the middle of the room : not very well knowing whether
he was expected to retire into the passage, or to rernain where he
was. He was now relieved from his perplexity by Mr. Squeers.
' This is the new young man, my dear,' said that gentleman,
' Oh,' replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas, 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 humour
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 in payment, a young
servant girl brought in a Yorkshire pie and some cold beef,
68 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
which being set upon the table, the boy Smike appeared with a jug
of ale.
Mr. Squeers was emptying his. great -coat pockets of letters to
different boys, and other small documents, which he had brought
down in them. The boy glanced, with an anxious 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 garments 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 very little boys, and
which, though most absurdly short in the arms and legs, was quite
wide enough for his attenuated 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 neckerchief. He was lame ; and
as he feigned to be busy in arranging 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 r'
' 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 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 efiFort
to recollect something, and then, looking vacantly at his questioner,
gradually broke into a smile, and limped away.
NOT FOR THE ? 69
' 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
have supper, for I am hungry and tired, and want to get to bed.'
The 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 ? ' 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 Nicholas. ' A
very little, for I'm not hungry.'
' Well, it's a pity to cut the pie if you're not hungry, 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.'
So Nicholas had a glassful, and, being occupied with his own
reflections, drank it, in happy innocence of all the foregone
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 yourself uncomfortable,' remarked his wife,
70 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
laughing heartily. 'To think that I should be such a noddy!
Well ! ' .
This part of the conversation was rather unintelligible; but
popular rumour in the neighbourhood 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 stiff 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 Nicholas
the ghost of a small glassful of the same compound. This done,
Mr. and Mrs. Squeers drew close up to the fire, and sitting with
their feet on the fender, talked confidentially in whispers ; while
Nicholas, taking up the tutor's assistant, read the interesting legends
in the miscellaneous 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-room 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.'
' Full ! ' thought Nicholas. ' I should think he was.'
' There's a place somewhere, I know,' said Squeers ; ' but I can't
at this moment call to mind where it is. However, we'll have that
all settled to-morrow. Good night, Nickleby. Seven o'clock in
the morning, mind.'
' I shall be ready, sir,' replied Nicholas. ' Good night.'
' I'll come in myself and show you where the well is,' said Squeers.
NICHOLAS MAKES A RESOLUTION 71
'You'll 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 you tatkeeare;
young man, and get first wash. The teacher ought always to have
it J but they 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 excitement; but,
growing gradually calmer, sat himself down in a chair, and mentally
resolved that, come what come might, he would endeavour, for a
time, to bear whatever wretchedness might be in store for him, and
that remembering the helplessness of his mother and sister, he
would give his uncle no plea for 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 cheer-
fulness, 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 behaviour of Newman Noggs.
' Dear me ! ' said Nicholas ; ' what an extraordinary hand ! '
It was directed to himself, was written upon very 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.
73 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Excuse errors. I should forget how to wear a whole coat now.
1 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.
CHAPTER VIII
OF THE INTERNAL ECONOMY OF DOTHEEOYS HALL
A RIDE of two hundred and odd miles in severe weather is one of
the best softeners of a hard 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
recognising 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 ? ' said 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 further 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 intelligence.
' Yes,' replied Squeers. ' You can't wash yourself this morning.' -
' Not wash myself ! ' exclaimed Nicholas.
' No, not a bit of it,' rejoined Squeers tartly. ' So you must be
content with giving yourself a dry pohsh 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 •
BRIMSTONE AND TREACLE 73
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 previous
night, and further 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 lady. '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 something or other in the
way of medicine they'd be always ailing and giving a world of
trouble, and partly because it 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.'
Havmg given this explanation, 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- proving
fruitless, Smike was called in, and pushed by Mrs. Squeers, and
boxed by Mr. Squeers ; which course of treatment brightening his
intellects, enabled him to suggest that possibly Mrs. Squeers might
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 thrashing if he were not more respectful in future ; so
that he took nothing very advantageous by his motion.
74 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 agreeable
domestic prospect thus opened to him; but Squeers was, fortu-
nately, 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 habitual deceit ; as if he really had a notion of some
day or other being able to take himself in, and persuade his 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
you ? '
Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian shooting- ''
jacket, which he took down from a peg in the passage ; and
Squeers, arming himself with his cane, 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 objects to
attract attention, that, at first, Nicholas stared about him, really
without seeing anything at all. By degrees, however, the place re-
solved 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 forms; 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
i^" TV^-
'..M^,^'n^l-na/eam'^^?u/ ^,^^mscvy:J -y'L^S.
YOUNG NOBLEMEN OF DOTHEBOYS HALL 75
and discoloured 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 ghmmering 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 were 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 helplessness alone remaining;
there were vicious-faced boys, brooding, 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 mer-
cenary 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 feeling flogged and starved down, with
every revengeful passion that can fester in swollen hearts eating its
evil way to their core in silence, what an incipient Hell was breeding
here !
And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque features,
which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas, might have pro-
voked 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 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 companionship, were the httle boys who had arrived on the
preceding 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 vigour, under the hands of Smike, who was fitting upon
him a pair of new boots that bore a most suspicious resemblance to
those which the least of the litde boys had worn on the journey
down — as the little boy himself seemed to think, for he was re-
garding the appropriation with a look of most rueful amazement.
76 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Besides these, there was a long row of boys waiting, with counte-
nances 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 appearance 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 after him into a species of wash-house, where there was
a small fire 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, the boys ate the bread itself,
and had finished their breakfast ; whereupon Mr. Squeers said, in a
solemn voice, ' For what we have received, may the Lord make us
truly thankful ! ' — 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 hungry 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 clamour 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 disagreeable 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 every word of their contents by heart if he only chose
to take the trouble, that gentleman called up the first class.
MR. SQUEERS'S EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM 77
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 first 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 parlour 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 ! '
' 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, hot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun sub-
stantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has learned that bottinney
means a knowledge of plants, he goes and knows 'em. That's 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 my 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 off, 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
78 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
them fourteen little boys and hear them some reading, 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.
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 metropolis, re-
garding 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, because 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 effect, and a death-like
silence immediately 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 extra
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.'
ANOTHER THRASHING FOR BOLDER 79
Two or three hands went to two or three eyes when Squeers said
this, but the greater part of the young gentlemen having no par-
ticular parents to speak of, were wholly uninterested in the thing
one way or other.
' I have had disappointments to contend against,' said Squeers,
looking very grim ; ' Solder'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 Squefers.
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 con-
sidering, as the saying goes, where to have him. ' Bolder, if your
father tliinks 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 schoolmaster, ad-
ministering 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.'
With 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, and his
uncle John has took to drinking, which is all the news his sister
8o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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-
like 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 pos-
sessed 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 everything to please Mr. and Mrs. Squeers,
and look upon them as his only friends j 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 delightful
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,' where-
upon another boy rose, and Graymarsh resumed his seat.
' Mobbs's step-mother,' said Squeers, ' took to her bed on hearing
that he wouldn't eat fat, and has been very ill ever since. She
wishes to know, by an early post, where he expects 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 his 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 mind ;
with this view, she has also stopped his 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 for doing so ; and he soon afterwards
retired by the side door, with as good cause as a boy need have.
NICHOLAS'S DOUBTS AND FEARS 81
Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collection
of letters ; some enclosing money, which Mrs. Squeers ' took care
of J ' and others referring to small articles of apparel, 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 everything 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 dimensions were aUke to him.
This business despatched, a few slovenly lessons were performed,
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 ruffianly behaviour of Squeers
even in his best moods, the filthy place, the sights and sounds about
him, all contributed to this state of feeling ; but when he recollected
that, being there 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 situation
must, through all time to come, prevent his raising his head again.
But, for the present, his resolve was taken, and the resolution he
had formed on the preceding night remained undisturbed. He had
written to his mother and sister, announcing the safe conclusion of
his journey, and saying as little about Dotheboys Hall, and saying
that litde 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 depended too much on his uncle's favour ' to
admit of his awakening his wrath just then.
,Gne reflection disturbed him far more than any selfish con-
siderations arising out of his own position. This was the probable
destination of his sister Kate. His uncle had deceived 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 wilUng to believe that Ralph Nickleby had
conceived a personal dislike to himself. Having pretty good
reason, by this tin^e, to reciprocate it, he had no great difficulty
82 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
in arriving 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 en-
coimtered 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 observed, 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 inanner,
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. But, 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.'
' Hush ! ' said Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder. ' 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 little child, younger than any that
are here now ! Where are they all ! '
'Whom do you speak of?' inquired Nicholas, wishing to rouse
the poor half-witted creature to reason. ' Tell me.'
' My friends,' he replied, ' myself — my — oh ! what suiferings 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 remember
the boy that died here ? '
' 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 began to
see faces round his bed that came from home ; he said they smiled,
and talked to him ; and he died at last lifting his head to kiss them.
Do you 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
THE SQUEERS FAMILY 83
his usual listless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid notice. It
was with a heavy heart that Nicholas soon afterwards — no, not
retired ; there was no retirement there — followed — to his dirty and
crowded dormitory.
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 NICHOLAS
NICKLEBY
When Mr. Squeers left the school-room for the night, he betook
himself, as has been before remarked, to his own fireside, which
was situated — not in the room in which Nicholas had supped on
the night of his 'anival, but in a smaller apartment in the rear
of the premises, where his lady wife, his amiable son, and accom-
plished daughter, were in the full enjoyment of each other's society ;
Mrs. Squeers being engaged in the matronly pursuit of stocking-
darning ; and the young lady and gentleman being occupied in the
adjustment of some youthful differences, by means of a pugilistic
contest across the table, which, on the approach of their honoured
parent, subsided 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 pos-
sessed of it, as there is no reason to suppose that she was a solitary
exception to a 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 neighbouring
friend, and had only just returned to the parental roof. To this
circumstance may be referred, her having heard nothing 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 j who (as she often
remarked) was no grammarian, thank Heaven.
' Of the young man — the new teacher — who else could I mean ? '
' Oh ! that Knuckleboy,' said Mrs. Squeers impatiently. ' I bate
him.'
84 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 a plurality of epithets,
some of which were 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. Wackford 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 wfiat,
Mrs. Squeers. In this matter of having a teacher, I'll take my own
ivay, 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 under me to do the same with our
blacks, till such time as little Wackford is able to take charge of the
school.'
' Am I to take 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 interest-
ing 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
A FAMILY DISCUSSION 85
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 laughter. 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 existence the
wildest imagination could never have dreamed — that Miss Squeers,
who seldom troubled herself with scholastic matters, inquired with
much curiosity who this Knuckleboy was, that gave himself such
airs.
'Nickleby,' said Squeers, spelling the name according to some
eccentric system which prevailed in his own mind ; ' your mother
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 got it in his mind to make a rush at you. I saw
him, though he thought I didn't.'
r ' Never mind that, father,' said Miss Squeers, as the head of the
I family was about to reply. ' Who is the man ? '
j ' Why, your father has got some nonsense in his head that he's
the son of a poor gentleman that died die other day,' said Mrs.
Squeers.
' The son of a gentleman ! '
' Yes ; but I don't believe a word of it. If he's a gentleman's
son at all, he's a fondling, that's my opinion.'
Mrs. Squeers intended to say ' foundling,' but, as she frequently
remarked when she made any such mistalce, it would be all the
same a hundred years hence ; with which axiom of philosophy,
indeed, she was in the constant habit of consoling the boys when
they laboured under more than ordinary ill usage.
I ' He's nothing of the kind,' said Squeers, in answer to the above
Aremark, ' for his father was married to his mother, years before he
'was born, and she is alive now. If he was, it would be no business
86 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
of ours, for we make a very good friend by having him here ; and
if he likes to learn the boys anything 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 trouble 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.'
r- Mrs. Squeers chuckled vastly on the receipt of these flattering
/compliments, 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 many
and many a one.
Miss Fanny Squeers carefully treasured up this, and much more
conversation on the same subject, until she retired for the night,
when she questioned the hungry servant, minutely, regarding the
outward appearance and demeanour of Nicholas ; to which queries
the girl returned such enthusiastic replies, coupled with so many ;
laudatory remarks touching his beautiful dark eyes, and his sweet
smile, and his straight legs — ^upon which last-named articles she
laid particular stress; the general 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 common.' 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 absent,
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 confusion.
' ' 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 overcome 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
MISS SQUEERS IN LOVE WITH NICHOLAS 87
lady. ' Thank you ! I am very sorry I ititfttded, 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 embarrassment 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 /tas a beautiful smile,' thought Miss Squeers.
' Which did you say ? ' asked Nicholas.
' Dear me, I was thinking of something else for the moment, 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 bye,' 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 miller's
daughter of only eighteen, who had contracted herself unto the son
88 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
of a small corn-factor, resident in the nearest market town. MisS
Squeers and the miller's daughter, 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
oflfer 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 intelligence. Now, Miss Squeers being five
years older, and out of her teens (which is also a great matter),
had, since, been more than commonly anxious to return the com-
pliment, 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 mysterious and
remarkable circumstances — indeed, as Miss Squeers more than
once hinted she had good reason to believe, induced, by the fame
of her many charms, to seek her out, and woo and win her.
' Isn't it an extraordinary thing ? ' said Miss Squeers, emphasising
the adjective strongly.
' 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 daughter,
counterfeiting, as nearly as she could, a favourite leer of the corn-
factor.
' Very like that— only more genteel,' replied Miss Squeers.
' Ah ! ' said the friend, ' 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 behaviour 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
MISS SQUEERS'S TEA-PARTY 89
not said, which were all so very complimentary as to be quite con-
clusive. Then, she dilated on the fearful hardship of having a
father and mother strenuously opposed to her intended husband ;
on which unhappy circumstance she dwelt at great length ; for the
friend's father and mother were quite agreeia,ble to her being married,
and the whole courtship was in consequence as flat and common-
place an afiair 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 distance, 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
up outside the coach, as it stopped to change at Greta Bridge,
taking 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 every 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 hereunto, and willingly communicated
to Nicholas that he was expected to take his tea in the parlour that
evening, 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 gauze 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 satis-
faction, when the friend arrived with a whitey-brown parcel — flat
and three-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, throwing in some striking
90 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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,' rephed 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 hungry 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 unconscious of
his 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 whether they were
waiting for one gentleman or twenty, so he received the intelligence
with perfect unconcern ; and, being out of spirits, and not seeing
any especial reason why he should make himself agreeable, looked
out of the window and sighed involuntarily.
As luck would have it. Miss Squeers's friend was of a playful 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, colouring 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 notion of his being in love with Miss
MR. BROWDIE JOINS THE PARTY gr
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
condition, 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 hke a
goose. I may as well accommodate myself to the company.' ;
We blush to tell it ; but his youthful spirits and vivacity, getting,
for a time, the better of his sad thoughts, he no sooner formed this
resolution than he saluted Miss Squeers and the friend, with great
gallantry, 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 very 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).
'Weel,' said John with a grin that even the collar could not
conceal.
' I beg your pardon,' interposed Miss Squeers, hastening to do
the honours, ' 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 proportion than below it.
' Yours to command, sir,' replied Nicholas, making fearful 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 company, grinned at nothing
in 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 vigour. It was quite a sight to behold
how he and Nicholas emptied the plate between them.
' Ye wean't get bread and butther ev'ery 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 coloured, but affected not to hear the
remark.
'Ecod,' said Mr. Browdie, laughing boisterously, 'they dean't
92 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
put too much intiv'em. Ye'll 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 learn '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 necessary 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, stoppmg
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 vnth Nicholas,
which she did with many symptoms of alarm and horror ; the effect
of the double intercession was, that he and John Browdie shook
hands across the table with much gravity ; and such was the impos-
ing nature of the ceremonial, that Miss Squeers was overcome and
shed tears.
' What's the matter, Fanny ? ' 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. ' What on earth should you do that for ? '
' Well,' said Miss Price, beckoning him aside, and speaking 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, pettishly.
' Look at her, dressed so beautiful and looking so well — really
almost handsome, I am ashamed at you.'
MISS SQUEERS AND MISS PRICE 93
' 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 — smiling a
little though, for she was pretty, and a coquette too in her small
way, and Nicholas was good-looking, and she supposed 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.' Pronouncing these last words aloud, she tripped
away and rejoined 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 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 amalgamated 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 overwhelmed by
the new usher'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 Ms won something she didn't expect, I think, haven't you,
dear ? ' said Miss Squeers, maliciously.
' Only a dozen and eight, love,' replied Miss Price, affecting 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 you 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 Yorksbireman flattened his nose, onge or twice, with his
94 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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.'
' 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 het 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 unconsciousness of making anybody uncomfortable.
' We have all the talking to ourselves, it seems,' said Nicholas,
looking good-humouredly 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 anybody
else to talk to.'
' \¥e'll talk to you, you know, if you'll say anything,' said Miss
Price.
' Thank you, 'Tilda, dear,' retorted Miss Squeers, majestically.
' 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 yon
loight an' toight young whipster look sharp out for a brokken head
next time he cums under my hond.'
'Miercy on us, what's all this?' cried Miss Price, in affected
astonishment.
'Cum whoam, tell 'e, cum whoam,' replied the Yorkshireman,
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
THE FRIENDS QUARREL 9;;
and workings. Miss Squeers had brought it about, by aspiring to
the high state and condition of being matrimonially engaged, with-
out 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 celebra-
tion of their expected nuptials; while Nicholas had brought it
about, by half an hour's gaiety 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 produced, 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 possessed of the
envious feeling of other people; whereupon Miss Squeers made
some general remark touching the danger of associating with low
persons ; in which Miss Price entirely coincided : observing that it
was very true indeed, and she had thought so a long time.
' 'Tilda,' exclaimed Miss Squeers with dignity, ' I hate you.' ■
' Ah ! There's no love lost between us, I assure you,' 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 compliment 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 ! '
96 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
With this parting benediction Miss Price swept from the room,
followed by the huge Yorkshireraan, who exchanged with Nicholas,
at parting, that peculiarly expressive scowl with which the cut-and-
thrust counts, in melo-dramatic performances, inform each other
they will meet again.
They were no sooner gone, than Miss Squeers fulfilled \he pre-
diction of her quondam friend by giving vent to a most copious
burst of tears, and uttering various dismal lamentations and in-
coherent words. Nicholas stood looking 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 oiF very
quietly while Miss Squeers was moaning in her pocket-handkerchief.
' This is one consequence,' thought Nicholas, when he had groped
his way to the 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 might have done, this would not
have happened.'
He listened for a few minutes, but all was quiet.
' I am 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.
CHAPTER X
HOW MR. RALPH NICKLEBY PROVIDED FOR HIS NIECE AND
SISTER-IN-LAW
On the second morning after the departure of Nicholas for York-
shire, 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 which she was engaged ; 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
^nd patrons tp be quite a novelty in art : as indeed it ^vag,
KATE SITS FOR HER PORTRAIT $7
'I think I have caught it now,' said Miss La Creevy. 'The
very 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, indeed — 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 difiS-
culties of Art, my dear, are great.'
' They must be, I liave no doubt,' said Kate, humouring her
good-natured little friend.
' They are beyond anything you can form the faintest conception
of,' rephed Miss La Creevy. ' What with bringing 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.'
' 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 unreasonable,
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
must 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 varying 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
gentlemen 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, avail-
ing herself of a pause in the discourse, and glancing round the room.
' Number of what, child ? ' inquired Miss La Creevy, looking up
gg NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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, arid 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 raising her head occa-
sionally, to look with unspeakable satisfaction at some touch she
had just put in : and now and then giving Miss Nickleby to under-
stand 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
expression 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 before now,'
replied Kate. ' Soon I hope, for this state of uncertainty is worse
than anything.'
' I suppose he has money, hasn't he ? ' inquired Miss La Creevy.
' 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 mixture of shrewd-
ness 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 savage.'
' 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 miniature
painter, ' and Heaven forbid that I should be the cause of your
doing so ! But, now, mightn't he, without feeling it himself, make
you and your mama some nice Uttle 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
to him ? '
REASONING OF MISS LA CREEVY 99
' 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.'
' Well ! ' exclaimed Miss La Creevy. ' This of a relation whom
you will not hear an indifferent person speak ill off, 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 dislike, 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 recommen-
dation — to earn, literally, my bread and remain with my mother.
Whether we shall ever taste happiness 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 person 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 servant, 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 protmding 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 overheard.
' I called in, on my way up stairs, more than half expecting to
find you here,' said Ralph, addressing his niece, and looking con-
temptuously at the portrait. ' Is that my niece's portrait, ma'am ? '
• ' 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.'
loo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 ? ' • ■ i i_ -i
' Why, yes,' replied Miss La Creevy, considenng 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 motioned to the young
lady to precede him, and bowing gravely to Miss La Creevy, closed
the door and followed up stairs, where Mrs. Nickleby received him
with many expressions of regard. Stoppmg them somewhat abruptly,
Ralph waved his hand with an impatient gesture, and proceeded to
the object 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 remember. 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. Nickleby.
' I am most anxious that he should, mama,' 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 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 I 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 habits in
this family leads, apparently, to a great waste of words before busi-
ness — 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 '
■■yul^J\/(^::^^.
?^,
Kate provided fCr tn
' My poor brother, ma'am,' interposed Ralph tartly, ' had no idea
what business was — was unacquainted, I verily believe, with the
very meaning of the word.'
'I fear he was,' said Mrs. Nickleby, with her handkerchief 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 skilfully
thrown out by Ralph on their first interview, was dangling on the
hook yet. At every small deprivation or discomfort which pre-
sented itself in the course of the four-and-twenty hours to remind
her of her straitened and altered circumstances, 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 conse-
quences 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. ' Sad
experience, you know, brother-in-law^. Kate, my dear, put that
down 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 objected 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. Nickleby.
' A milliner and dress-maker, ma'am,' repUed Ralph. ' Dress-
makers in London, as I need not remind you, ma'am, who are so
well acquainted with all matters in the ordinaiy routine of life,
make large fortunes, keep equipages, and become persons of great
wealth and fortune.'
Now, the first ideas called up in Mrs. Nickleby's mind by the
words miUiner and dress-maker were connected with certain wicker
baskets lined with black oilskin, which she remembered 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
102 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 speaking, than she nodded her head and said
' Very true,' with great appearance of satisfaction.
' What your uncle says, is very true, Kate, my dear,' said Mrs.
Nickleby. ' 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 white 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 hackney 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 deinonstration of feel-
ing, inasmuch as Kate hung down her head while it was relatmg,
and Ralph manifested very intelligible symptoms of extreme
impatience.
' The lady'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.'
' Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love ? ' inquired
Mrs. Nickleby.
' A great deal,' replied Kate j ' 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 possessed in their days of
affluence, together with a minute description 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 return 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 walk to business with
every morning.' So saying, he led Kate off, 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.'
A STRANGE CONTRAST 103
' 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 begin to cry,' growled Ralph ; ' I hate crying.'
' It's very foolish, I know, 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 coloured 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 country girl shrunk
through the crowd that hurried up and down the streets, giving way
to the press of people, and chnging closely to Ralph as though she
feared to lose him in the throng ; and how the stem and hard-
featured man of business went doggedly on, elbowing the passengers
aside, and now and then exchanging a gruff salutation with some
passing acquaintance, who turned to look back upon his pretty
charge with looks expressive 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 rugged
villainy of the other ; to have hung upon the guileless thoughts of
the 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 msting in its cell, beating
only as a piece of cunning mechanism, and yielding no one throb of
hope, 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 — i^e jvidow,' said Kate emphatically.
• You will live, to all intents and purposes, here,' rejoined Ralph ;
'for here you will take your meals, and here you 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 ? '
104 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' The word slipped from my lips, I did not mean it indeed,'
urged Kate.
' I hope not,' said Ralph.
' But my question, uncle ; you have not answered it.'
' Why, I anticipated something of the kind,' said Ralph ; ' and
— though I object very strongly, mind — have provided 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 arrived without any further conversa-
tion at the dress-maker's door, which displayed a very large plate,
with Madame Mantalini'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
nobility and gentry, by the casual exhibition, near the handsomely
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 fiurniture of various
descriptions, 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 mto the room, and, seeing
somebody there, as suddenly popped it out again.
' Here. Hollo ! ' cried Ralph. ' Who's that ? '
At the sound of Ralph's voice, the head reappeared, and the
mouth, displaying a very long row of very white teeth, uttered in a
mincing' tone the words, ' Demmit. What, Nickleby ! 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 sUppers,
and had a very copious watch-chain wound round his body. More-
over, he had whiskers and a moustache, both dyed black and
gracefully curled.
' Demmit, you don't mean to say you want me, do you, demmit?'
said this gentleman, smiting Ralph on the shoulder.
MR. MANTALINI'S WINNING WAYS 105
' 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 forgetfulness.
' 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 apart-
ment 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 delight at the
achievement. ' This cursed high room takes one's breath away.
These infernal sky-parlours — 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.
The 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 wedded 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
had married on his whiskers ; upon which property he had
previously subsisted, in a genteel manner, for some years ; and
which he had recently improved, after patient cultivation by the
addition of a moustache, which promised to secure him an easy
independence : his share in the labours 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.
io6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 j ' 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. Manta-
lini kissed Madame M'antalini, and, after that performance, Madame
Mantalini pulled Mr. Mantalini playfully by the ear : which done,
they descended to business.
' 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, surveying
Kate from head to foot, and back again. ' Can you speak French,
child ? '
' 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.
' 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 poetical strain.
' Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,' 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 all'
If an iron door could be supposed to quarrel with its hinges, and
to make a firm resolution to open with slow obstinacy, and grind
them to powder in the process, it would emit a pleasanter sound in
so doing than did these words in the rough and bitter voice in
which they were uttered by Ralph. Even Mr. Mantalini felt their
KATE ENGAGED BY MADAME MANTALINI ,107
influence, and turning affrighted round, exclaimed : ' Wliat 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 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 ? '
' 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 unwilling to leave to
Mr. Mantalini the sole honour of showing them down stairs.
Ralph relieved her from her perplexity by taking his departure
without delay : Madame Mantalini making many gracious inquiries
why he never came to see them ; and Mr. Mantalini anathematising
the stairs with great volubility 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 you're
provided for.'
Kate was about to thank him again, but he stopped 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
108 NICHOLAS NICKLEBV
than once)— but as you want to be together, 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 that belongs to me, which I can
y put you into, till it is let, 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 qua rter of thejQB3lr-at the
East ..end-; but I'll send my clerk down to you, at five o'clock on
"Saturday, to take you there. Good bye. You know your way?
Straight on.'
Coldly shaking his niece's hand, Ralph left her at the top of
Regent Street, and turned down a bye thoroughfare, intent on
schemes of money-getting. Kale walked sadly back to their
lodgings in the Strand. ,
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 homewards,
were of that desponding nature which the occurrences of the morn-
ing 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 establishment by any means encouraging.
It was with many gloomy forebodings' and misgivings, therefore,
that she looked forward, 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 abundance
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 married to advantage, she could not
exactly remember. However, as she very logically remarked, there
must have been sotne young person in that way of business who had
made a fortune without having anything to begin with, and that
DRESSMAKING AS AN OCCUPATION 109
being taken for granted, why should not Kate do the same ? Miss
La Creevy, who was a member of the Uttle council, ventured to
insinuate some doubts relative to the probability of Miss Nickleby's
arriving at this happy consummation in the compass of an ordinary
lifetime; but the good lady set that question entirely at rest, by
informing them that she had a presentiment 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 quarters out of every ten, determining it
the wrong way.
' 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 recommended to, to make
me a scarlet cloak at the time when scarlet 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 argument 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 sorry 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 sprighthness 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 Httle 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
no NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
to boot, after making a great many extraordinary faces which would
have secured her an ample fortune, could she have transferred them
to ivory or canvas, sat down in a corner, and had what she termed
' a real good cry.'
But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep off
the dreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either; who,
punctual to his time, limped up to the door, and breathed a whiff
of cordial gin through the keyhole, exactly as such of the church
clocks in the neighbourhood as agreed among themselves about the
time, struck five. 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. Nickleby.
' Our thoughts are free, of course. Everybody's thoughts are their
own, clearly.'
' They wouldn't be, if some people had their way,' muttered
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 very 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 some-
thmg respectful and even delicate, notwithstanding the abruptness
of his speech), looked at him more closely, she recollected having
caught a passing glimpse of that strange figure before.
' Excuse my curiosity,' she said, ' but did I not see you in the
coachyard, on the morning my brother went away to Yorkshire?'
THE HOUSE IN THAMES STREET iii
Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs. Nickleby, and said ' No,'
most unblushingly.
' No ! ' exclaimed Kate, ' I should have said so anywhere.'
' 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 very, very far from having the appearance of a
gouty subject, and so Kate could not help thinking ; but the con-
ference was cut short by Mrs. Nickleby's insisting on having 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 conditions, 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
were 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 deposited everything, 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 Hfe 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 superstitious, I should be
almost inclined to beheve that some dreadful crime had been per-
petrated 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 foohsh fancy, mama,' said Kate, forcing a smile.
' Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish fancy
112 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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. Un-
less I thought of everything ' This was Mrs. Nickleby's usual
commencement of a general lamentation, running through a dozen
or so of complicated 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 furniture.
' 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 hadii't been for his thoughtfulness ! '
' Very kind, indeed,' replied Kate, looking round.
Newman Noggs did not say that he had hunted up the old furni-
ture they saw, from attic and cellar ; 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 notion 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.
' We need detain you no longer, I think,' said Kate.
' Is there nothing I can do ? ' asked Newman.
' Nothing, thank you,' rejoined Miss Nickleby.
' 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 v/ould 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
road homewards.
o
'\'ri/'7ru/^/'^:'^i-'a4^'^"^'^ /-^ ^/y^i^y^^i^^'
nrHi'/k>:
MISS SQUEERS AND HER MAID 113
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 a 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 numer-
ous tokens of extreme vexation of spirit which were plainly visible
in her countenance. Being, however, of a rather violent and quarrel-
some 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 commend-
able, kept a boy up, on purpose, to bear the first brunt of the good
gentleman's anger ; which, having vented itself in a variety of kicks
and cuffs, subsided sufficiently to admit of his being persuaded to
go to bed. Which he did with his boots on, and an umbrella under
his arm.
The hungry servant 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 pre-
vented her from being one.
' How lovely your hair do curl to-night, miss ! ' said the hand-
maiden. ' 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 being at
all surprised at any outbreak of ill-temper on the part of Miss
Squeers. Having a half perception of what had occurred 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 dress herself out so, and go
on in such a manner to get noticed, that — oh — well, if people only
saw theijjselve? ! '
114 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' What do you mean, Phib ? ' asked Miss Squeers, looking in her
own little glass, where, like most of us, she saw — 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,' repUed the hand-
maid.
' 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 allow 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 patronising abbreviation, ' if she was 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 'Tilda 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 particularly '
' Oh 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 ? ' 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 ex-
plaining 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 uncon-
sciously destroying the peace and happiness of my own 'Tilda.
A RECONCILIATION TAKES PLACE ng
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 ! '
' 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-"' fliat
she should be married as soon as possible. No, Phib-nfr* Let her
have Mr. Browdie. I may pity him, poat-fe'lDw; but I have a
great regard for 'Tilda, and or)ly Jiop'e 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 ^ejjjresents as strange a jumble of
feelings, and compound"of discords, as any polysyllable in the lan-
guage. 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 j^rice, and affecting to com-
passionate her weaknesses and foibles,, though only in the presence
of a solitary dependant, was almost as great a relief to her spleen
as if the whole had been gospel truth. Nay, more. We have such
extraordinary powers of persuasion when they are exerted over
ourselves, 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 feelings.
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 parlour 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 satisfaction.
' 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.
1,1 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Lor ! I wouldn't think so bad of you as to suppose it did,'
rejoined her companion. ' That's not it.' ^
' Oh ! ' said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy. ' Go on.
' 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.'
'^-■Hsre was mingled gall and honey in this intelligence. The
prospect kijhe friend's being married so soon was the gall, and the
certainty of her-s»t-SQtgrtaining serious designs upon Nicholas was
the honey. Upon the whcJffe; vhe^weet 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 miserable, and wished {hemselves single again with all their
hearts; to which condolences Miss Squeers added others equally
calculated to raise her friend's spirits and promote her cheerfulness
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 ! '
' Oh, you don't mean that, I am sure ? ' replied her friend. ' Con-
fess, Fanny ; don't you hke 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 mis-
anthropical 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 minutes,' said
Matilda. ' How much better to take him into favour 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. ' Oh !
'Tilda, how could you have acted so mean and dishonourable ! I
wouldn't have believed it of you, if anybody had told me.'
' Heyday ! ' exclaimed Miss Price, giggUng. ' One would suppose
I h^d been murdering somebody at least,'
A WARDROBE INSPECTION 117
' 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 afterwards 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 conver-
sation, and that a dash of personality was infused into the altercation,
in consequence. Indeed, the quarrel, from slight beginnings, rose
to a considerable height, and was assuming a very violent com-
plexion, when both parties, falling into a great passion of tears,
exclaimed simultaneously, that they had never thought of being
spoken to in that way : which exclamation, 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
occasion in question, making the fifty-second time of repeating the
same impressive ceremony within a twelvemonth.
Perfect amicabiUty being thus restored, a dialogue naturally
ensued upon the number and nature of the garments which would
be indispensable for Miss Price's entrance into the holy state of
matrinjony, when Miss Squeers clearly showed that a great many
more than the miller could, or would, afford, were absolutely neces-
sary, 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 stricken
quite dumb with admiration of a new pink scarf. Miss Squeers said
in high good humour, that she would walk part of the way with her,
for the pleasure of her company ; and off they went together : Miss
Squeers dilating, as they walked along, upon her father's accom-
plishments : and multiplying his income by ten, to give her friend
some faint notion of the vast importance and superiority of her
family.
It happened that that particular time, comprising the short daily
interval which was suffered to elapse 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 hstlessly through the village, upon his miserable lot.
Miss Squeers knew this, perfectly well, but had perhaps forgotten it,
ii8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
for when she caught sight of that young gentleman advancing
towards them, she evinced many symptoms of surprise and conster-
nation, 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 feelings at a Jiigh
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, affecting
alarm at her friend's threat, but really actuated by a malicious 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 support 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 ! '
' 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 thaf 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, aifecting amazement.
' 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 ? '
A GREAT DELUSION 119
Here he raised up the brown bonnet, and regarding with most un-
feigned 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,
inost bitterly, for having been so unfortunate as to cause the dissen-
sion that occurred, although I did so, I assure you, most unwittingly
and heedlessly.'
' Well ; that's not all you have got to say surely,' exclaimed Miss
Price as Nicholas paused.
'I fear there is something more,' stammered Nicholas with a half
srnile, 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 puppy — 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, 'I 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.'
' She does ! ' exclaimed Nicholas with such energy of utterance as
might have been, for the moment, mistaken for rapture.
' Certainly,' rephed 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 laboured under, or committed.
I have scarcely 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 the real state of my
own — unless it be the one object, dear to my heart as life itself, of
being one day able 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 declaration,
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
120 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 her ! 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 mortification ;
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 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 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 any-
thing better, represented them) on Nicholas Nickleby, had never
once seriously contemplated the possibility 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 man should feel only too much honoured 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 outrageous.
'Let him 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 Uttle 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 food,
dirty lodging, and the being compelled to witness 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.
SPRETAE INJURIA FORMAE tn
Nor was this all. There was another and deeper system of
annoyance which made his heart sink, and nearly drove him wild,
by its injustice and cruelty.
The 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, arid content
only to be near him. He would sit beside him for hours, looking
patiently into his face; and a 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 his attachment 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-humour that could^
not be vented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed. Drudgery y
would ha^'e 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 in-
fluence 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 swoln
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 endeavouring to
master some task which a child of nine years old, possessed of
ordinary powers, could have conquered with ease, but which, to the
addled brain of the crushed boy of nineteen, was a sealed and
hopeless mystery. 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
solitary 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, no.'
' Do not try,' replied Nicholas.
The boy shook his head, and closing the book with a sigh,
122 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
looked vacantly round, and laid his head upon his arm. He
was weeping.
' 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, shaking 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, will you go
— 7mll 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 find you.'
' You would,' replied Nicholas, with the same humane intention,
' and 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 in his,
and, hugging them to his breast, uttered a few broken sounds which
were unintelligible. Squeers entered, at the moment, and he shrunk
back into his old corner.
CHAPTER Xni
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 Nicholas, raising
himself on his arm, looked among the prostrate forms which on
THE SLEEPERS AWAKENED 123
every side surrounded him, as though in search of some particular
object.
It needed a iquick 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
colour ; 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 living 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 j 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 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 eagerness of his quest,
when the voice of Squeers was heard, calling 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, hke 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,
124 NICHOLAS NICKLEBV
' Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike ? ' de-
manded 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.
' Come,' said Squeers, evidently frightened, though he endeavoured
to look otherwise, ' you won't save him this way. Where is he ? '
' At the bottom of the nearest pond for aught I know,' rejoined
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. Without waiting for a reply, he inquired of the
boys whether any one among them knew anything 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, everybody thought) :
' Please, sir, I think Smike's run away, sir.'
' Ha ! ' cried Squeers, turning sharp round ; ' Who said that? '
' Tompkins, 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 suggestion. 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 maimer,
' what reason have you to suppose that any boy would want to run
away from this establishment ? Eh, sir ? '
SMIKE MISSING 125
The child raised a dismal cry, by way of answer, and Mr. Squeers,
throwing himself into the most favourable 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 have a talk with him.'
There was, of course, a profound silence, during which Nicholas
showed his. disgust as plainly as looks can show it.
'Well, Nickleby,' said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously. ' You
think he has run away, I suppose ? '
' 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 nothing of the kind.'
' He didn't tell you he was going, I suppose, did he ? ' sneered
Squeers.
' He did not,' repUed 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 have been devilish sorry to do,'
said Squeers in a taunting fashion.
' I should indeed,' rephed 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 a 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
excited lady; 'and I wouldn't keep such as you in the house
andther hour, if I had my way.'
' Nor wQuld you if J h£i4 mine,' replied Nicholas, ' Nqw,
boys 1 '
126 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Ah ! Now boys,' said Mrs. Squeers, mimicking, as nearly as
she could, the voice and manner of the usher. ' Follow your leader,
boys, 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.'
' If I catch him,' said Squeers, ' I'll only stop short of flaying him
alive. I give you notice, boys.'
' If yoM catch him,' retorted Mrs. Squeers, contemptuously, '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 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 any-
thing 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 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 prose-
cution 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
pony-chaise, intent upon discovery and vengeance. Shortly after-
wards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed in the white top-coat, and tied up in
various shawls and handkerchiefs, issued forth in another chaise
and another direction, taking with her a good-sized bludgeon,
several odd pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouring man : all
provided and carried upon the expedition with the sole object of
THE SEARCH FOR SMIKE 127
assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the safe custody
of the unfortunate 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 wandering 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 York-
shire school ; but the unhappy 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, and unsuc-
cessful.
' No news of the scamp ! ' said the schoolmaster, who had evi-
dently been stretching his legs, on the old principle, not a few times
during the journey. 'I'll have consolation for this out of some-
body, 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 ofif his legs, and me obliged to come
home with a hack cob, that'll cost fifteen shillings besides 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 vapourings here, Mr. Puppy, but be off to your
kennel, for it's past your bed-time ! Come ! 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 contemptuous look at the tyrant,
and walked, as majestically as he could, up stairs : not a little
nettled, however, to observe that Miss Squeers and Master Squeers,
and the servant girl, were enjoying the scene from a snug corner;
the two former, indulging 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
128 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 exultation, ordering
a glass of spirits for somebody, which was in itself a, sufficient sign
that something extraordinary had happened. 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 themselves of an
incumbrance of which it was their wont to complain so loudly ; but
their surprise will cease when they are informed that the manifold
services of the drudge, if performed 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, 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,
having 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 portentous
import, and a fearful instrument of flagellation, strong, supple, wax-
ended, and new — in short, purchased that morning, expressly for
the occasion.
' Js eyery boy here ? ' asked Squeers, in a tremendous voice.
SMIKE IN EXTREMITY 129
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
favourite blow to the desk, and regarding with gloomy satisfaction
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 comprehen-
sive 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 compassion
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 indignation 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 anything to say for himself.
' Nothing, I suppose ? ' said Squeers with a diabolical grin.
Smike glanced round, and his eye rested, for an instant, on
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
fault ; it was mine, I suppose — eh ? '
'A nasty, ungrateful, pig-headed, brutish, obstinate, sneaking
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, complied.
K
T30 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip ; one desperate 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 starting 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 of the interference, Squeers
released his hold of Smiice, 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 j but astonishment had actually, for the moment, bereft
him of speech..
' You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the miserable
lad's behalf,' said Nicholas; 'you have returned no answer to the
letter in which I begged forgiveness for him, 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 himself
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 yourself, 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 the dastardly
cruelties practised on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a
care ; for if you do raise the devil within me, the consequences shall
fall heavily upon your own head ! '
He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent outbreak of
wrath, and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat lipon 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 concentrating into that one
moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and indignation, Nicholas
sprang upon him, wirested 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. Sqiieers, with many shrieks for aid,
'uneuT.j a^/^yniJ/l{>■
'.'//TUsal'/ f^Ka /a/m//'/^.
THE TABLES TURNED 131
hung on to the tail of her partner's coat, and endeavoured 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 inkstands at the usher's head, beat Nicholas
to her heart's content : animating herself, at every blow, with the
recollection of his haying refused her proffered love, and thus im-
parting 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, becoming tired
of the noise and uproar, arid 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 precipitated 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 con-
sider what course he had better adopt. He looked anxiously round
for Smike, as he left the room, but he was nowhereto 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 after-
wards, 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 appear 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 his 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 approach, 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
132 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 mean-
while, very sternly between the horse's ears, at Nicholas as he came
on at his leisure.
' Servant, young genelman,' said John.
' Yours,' said Nicholas.
' Weel ; we ha' met at last,' observed John, making the stirrup
ring under a smart touch of the ash stick.
'Yes,' replied 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 doing so. I was very sorry
for it, afterwards. Will you shake hands ? '
' Shake honds ! ' cried the good-humoured 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 a tone 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 conse-
quence.'
' 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 ever heard o' the loike
o' that noo ! Giv' us thee hond agean, yoongster. Beatten the
schoolmeasther ! Dang it, I loove 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
JOHN BROWDIE BEFRIENDS NICHOLAS 133
' Every step of the way,' replied Nicholas. ' I should be many
steps further on by this time, and so good bye ! '
' Nay noo,' replied the honest countryman, reining in his im-
patient horse, ' stan' still, tellee. Hoo much cash hast thee gotten ? '
' Not much,' said Nicholas, colouring, ' 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 day, 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 remitting 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 another 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 uncertain 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.
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.
134 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 ! 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 raising him.
' To go with you — anywhere — everywhere — 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 re-
freshment; 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 j 'these
will do very well. I only want to be near you.'
' And you shall,' cried Nicholas. ' And the world 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,
CHAPTER XIV
HAVING THE MISFORTUNE TO TREAT OF NONE BUT COMMON PEOPLE,
IS NECESSARILY OF A MEAN AND VULGAR CHARACTER
In that quarter of London in which Golden Square is situated,
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
MR. NEWMAN NOGGS'S RESIDENCE 135
taller stack than the rest, inclining heavily to one side and toppling
over the roOf, seems to meditate taking revenge for half a century'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 neighbouring 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 with anything approaching to a voice, is an
aged bantam at the baker's ; and even he is hoarse, in consequence
pf 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, sufficiently diversified in appearance, being ornamented
with every variety of common blind and curtain that can easily be
imagined ; while every dobrway is blocked up, and rendered nearly
impassable, by a motley collection of children and porter pots of
all sizes, from the baby in arms and the half-pint pot, to the full-
grown girl and half-gallon can.
In the parlour of one of these houses, which was perhaps a
thought dirtier than any of its neighbours ; 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 carpetless;
but a curious visitor who had to climb his way to the top, might
have observed that there was not wanting indications of the pro-
gressive 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
story, 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 bottomless. The story above boasted no greater excess
than a worm-eaten wash-tub ; and the garret landing-place displayed
135 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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.
' A nasty night, Mr. Noggs ! ' said the man in the nightcap,
stepping in to light his candle.
' Does it rain ? ' asked Newman.
' Does it ? ' replied the other pettishly, ' I am wet through.'
' It doesn'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 counte-
nance 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— thinking 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
THE KENWIGS FAMILY 137
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 designa-
tion of ' the Kenwigses,' were the wife and olive branches of one
Mr. Kenwigs, a turner in ivory, who was looked upon as a person
of some consideration on the premises, 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 neighbourhood, and had flaxen
hair, tied with blue ribands, hanging in luxuriant pigtails down
their backs ; and wore little white trousers with frills round the
ancles — for all of which reasons, and many more equally valid
but too numerous to mention, Mrs. Kenwigs was considered 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 colour 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 company 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 constitution, could have sus-
tained, had not the pride of housewifery upheld her. At last, how-
ever, 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
138 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 known Mr. Kenwigs when
he was a bachelor, and was much esteemed by the ladies, as bearing
the reputation 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 ; besides
whom, there was another young man, supposed to entertain honour-
able 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 parlour, 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 pantomime, 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 drawback upon the pleasure of seeing such friends,
and that was, that the lady in the back parlour, who was very fat,
and turned of sixty, 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-parlour 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.
'George,' said Mr. Kenwigs, solemnly, 'none of that, if you
please.'
ENTRANCE OF A PUBLIC MAN 139
. ' 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 sitiwa-
tion, 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 honour 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 intended
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. 'Mor-
leena, 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 was 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, summonses, notices that he
had called, or announcements that he 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 distinguished relation
occasioned.
'Anywheres, my dear,' said the collector, ' I am not particular.'
140 NICHOLAS NIClCLEBY
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 honour of — thank you —
Mr. and Mrs. Cutler, Mr. Lillyvick.'
' Proud to know you, sir,' said Mr. Cutler, ' I've heerd of yoii
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
extraordinary.
' George, you know, I think, Mr. Lillyvick,' said Kenwigs ; ' lady
from down stairs — Mr. Lillyvick. Mr. Snewkes — Mr. Lillyvick.
Miss Green — Mr. Lillyvick. Mr. Lillyvick — Miss Petowker of the
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Very glad to make two public
characters acquainted ! Mrs. Kenwigs, 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 humoured in his request to be taken no
notice of, and was merely spoken about, in a whisper, as the decayed
gentleman), did as she was desired; and the greater part of the
guests sat down to speculation, while Newman himself, Mrs. Ken-
wigs, and Miss Petowker of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, looked
after the supper-table.
While the ladies were thus busying themselves, Mr. Lillyvick
was intent upon the game in progress, and as all should be fish that
comes to a water-collector's net, the dear old gentleman was by no
means scrupulous in appropriating to himself the property of his
neighbours, which, on the contrary, he abstracted whenever an
opportunity presented itself, smihng good-humouredly all the while,
and making so many condescending speeches to the owners, that
they were delighted with his amiability, and thought" in th^r 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
body 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 prin-
ciple of schools and required that every guest should bring his own
SUPPER WITH KENWIGS 141
knife, fork, and spoon ; which doubtless would be a great accom-
modation in many cases, and to no one more so than to the lady
and gentleman of the house, especially 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 company with their flaxen tails towards them, and
their faces to the fire ; an arrangement which was no sooner per-
fected, 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 natural 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 beautiful ! '
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 burying their heads in their mother's lap
simultaneously, screamed until the eight 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 overcome 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
142 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
she first acknowledged to her mother a partiality 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. Lillyvick, regarding
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 Avas 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.'
A gentle murmur seemed to say, that, in one of Mr. Lillyvick's
station, the objection was not only natural, but highly praiseworthy.
' I came roiind to him in time,' said Mr. Lillyvick. ' After they
were married, and there was no help for it, I was one of the first to
say that Kenwigs must be taken notice of. Tte family did take
notice of him, in consequence, and on my representa,tion ; 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 man. Ken-
wigs, 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. Lillyvick.'
' No, no, my dear,' replied Mrs. Kenwigs, ' it will only worry my
uncle.'
A BUDDING GENIUS 143
' It can't worry him, I am sure,' said Miss Petowker. ' You will
be very much pleased, won't you, sir ? '
' 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, afterwards.'
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 private parties.'
' Oh, but not here ! ' said Mrs. Kenwigs. 'We are all 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 ; ' anything in my
humble power I shall be delighted to dO;'
Mrs. Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a ^cadiW. programme
of the entertainments between them, of which this was the prescribed
order, but they had settled to have a little pressing 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, blush-
ing, ' of such genius as that, I 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 failing ? '
'Oh no,' replied Mrs. Kenwigs, 'but if she grew up what she is
now, — only think of the young dukes and marquises.'
' Very right,' said the collector.
' Still,' siibmitted 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 unpleasant-
ness of that sort.'
Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming gallantry, 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
144 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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.
The ecstacies consequent upon the effort had not yet subsided,
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 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 explanation, 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 above ? '
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.
NEWMAN SHELTERS THE FUGITIVES 145
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. Kenwigs, and indeed from the very grasp of the
water-rate collector, who was eyeing the contents of the tumbler, at
the moment of its unexpected abstraction, 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 emphatically 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 distressed to see '
me, you will add to the pain I feel already, at being compelled, for
one night, to cast myself upon your slender means for aid and
shelter.'
BTewman 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 implicit confidence in
the sincerity of his professions, and kindness of feeling towards
himself, would have induced him, 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 his visitors, with extreme alacrity.
These were simple enough ; poor Newman's means halting at a
very considerable distance short of his inclinations ; but, slight as
they were, they were, not made without much , bustling and running
L
146 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
about. As Nicholas had husbanded his scanty stock of money so
well that it was not yet quite expended, 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
Newman had it in his power to make, for the accommodation of his
guests during the night, occupied no very great time in completing ;
and as he had insisted, as an express preliminary, that Nicholas
should change his clothes, and that Smike should invest himself in
his sohtary 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 then 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 concerning his mother and
sister.
' Well ; ' replied Newman, with his accustomed taciturnity ; both
well.'
' They are living in the city still ? ' 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 ? '
Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but merely
replied by a gasp, which, according to the action of the hea:d 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 favourable one.
' Now listen to me,' said Nicholas, laying his hand on Newman's
shoulder. ' Before I would make an effort to see them, I deemed
it expedient to come to you, lest, by gratifying my own selfish desire,
I should inflict an injury upon them which I 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, colouring. ' You see that
I 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.'
A LETTER FROM MISS SQUEERS 147
' To-morrow morning,' said Newman ; ' hear it to-morrow.'
' What purpose would that answer ? ' urged Nicholas.
' You would sleep the better,' replied Newman.
'I should sleep the worse,' answered Nicholas, impatiently.
' 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, hesitating.
' 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. accrue 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 dis-
grace 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 blackt-
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 extraordinary 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 myself ! '
Newman accompanied this very unusual outbreak with a violent
blow upon the table, as if, in the heat of the moment, he had mis-
taken 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 accordingly
read as follows :
^ DotJieboys Hall,
' Thursday Morning.
'Sir,
' My pa requests me to write to you, the doctors considering
it doubtful -whether he will ever recuvver the use of his legs which
prevents his holding a pen.
148 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 Gear. We were kimpelled to havd 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
certifiket that if it had, the tortershell would have affected the
brain.
' Me and my brother were then the victims of his feury since
which we have suffered very much which leads us to the arrowing
belief that we 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 which takes off ray
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 supposed 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 convenient
' 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 Nicholas, sat mute and dispirited,
with a most woe-begone and heart-stricken look.
' Mr. Noggs,' said Nicholas, after a few moments' reflection, ' 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,
HOW THE LETTER AFFECTED ' NICHOLAS 149
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 days ; and I know that letter
will not be answered before he returns.'
' 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, precipitately : ' 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 apartment 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 accommodation 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 attentively
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.'
150 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Kenwigs ! ' said Mr. Lillyvick, in a loud voice, ' I'm surprised
at you.'
'What's the matter, sir?' asked Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming
submission to the collector of water-rates.
'Making such a remark 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 ; scandalous, perfectly scanda-
lous. It may be the custom to allow such things in this house, but
it's not the kind of behaviour 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 swelling
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. Gracious Powers, where
was this to end !
' I am very sorry, sir,' said Mr. Kenwigs, humbly.
' Don't tell me you're sorry,' retorted Mr. Lillyvick, with much
sharpness. ' You should have prevented it, then.'
The company were quite paralysed by this domestic crash. The
back parlour 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 sucli 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 by 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. Lillyvick, regardless of the siren, cried obdurately,'
' Morleena, my hat ! ' upon' the fourth repetition of which demand.
Mis, 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
MR. LILLY VICK IS CONCILIATED 351
little girls (privately instructed to that effect) clasped their uncj^>
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. Kenwigs,
•unless you wish to kill me.' ;
' I shouldn't wonder if some people were to say I did,' replied
Mr. Lillyvick, 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 differ-
ence respecting that pound or two which I shall leave among your
children when I die.'
' Morleeha 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. Lilly-
vick ; and thereupon Mrs. Kenwigs darted forward and kissed the
collector, and an irrepressible murmur of applause broke from the
company who had witnessed his magnanimity.
- 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 distinction 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 disinterestedness and virtue ; and, in addition to all, was
finally accommodated 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 ; ' biit 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.'
152 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' It's a strange time of night to be called away, sir, certainly,' said
the collector ; ' and the behaviour of Mr. Noggs himself, is, to say
the least of it, mysterious.'
' Well, so it is,' rejoined Crowl; 'and I'll tell you what's more— I
think these two geniuses, whoever they are, have run 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 provi-
dentially 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 unpleasantness 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 calm-
ness ; not to mention the assiduity of Mr. Kenwigs, 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, singly and separately,
fell, according to custom, into a little chorus of 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 preparatory
glass of punch, with great inflexibility arid 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
MATERNAL FEELINGS OF MRS. KENWIGS 153
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. Kenwigs, 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 ahghted on the nearest landing-place, before he had
found time to open his mouth to ask what was the matter.
' Don't be alarmed,' cried Nicholas, running down ; ' here it is ;
it's all out, it's all over ; pray compose yourselves ; there's no harm
done ; ' and with these, and a thousand 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.
Reassured by this cheering intelligence, the company in some
degree recovered from their fears, which had been productive 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.
Lillyvick had been actually seen, in the perturbation of his spirits,
to kiss Miss Petowker several times, behind the room door, as
calmly as if nothing were going forward.
' It is a mere nothing,' said Nicholas, returning to Mrs. Kenwigs ;
' the Uttle girl, who was watching the child, being tired I suppose,
fell asleep, and set her hair on fire.'
' Oh you malicious litde wretch ! ' cried Mrs. Kenwigs, im-
pressively 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.'
154 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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.
' -^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 upstairs again when he found nothing serious had occurred.
Good night.'
Excusing himself, in these terms, from joining in the festivities,
Nicholas took a most winning farewell of Mrs. Kenwigs and the
other ladies, and retired, after making a very extraordinary im-
pression upon the company.
' What a delightful young man ! ' cried Mrs. Kenwigs.
' Uncommon gentlemanly, really,' said Mr. Kenwigs. ' Don't
you think so, Mr. Lilly.vick ? '
' Yes,' said the collector, with a dubious shrug of his shoulders.
'He is gentlemanly, very gentlemanly — ^in appearance.'
' I hope you don't see anything against him, uncle ? ' inquired
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 1 '
' Your namesake,' said Mrs. Kenwigs, with a sweet smile.
' And I hope a worthy namesake,' observed Mr. Kenwigs, willing
GOOD NIGHT 155
16 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 Lilyvicks 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 Lilly vick one of the greatest
blessings and honors of my existence.'
' The greatest blessing, Kenwigs,' murmured the 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 pohtic stroke of the Kenwigses, because it made Mr.
Lillyvick the great head and fountain of the baby's importance.
The good gentleman felt the delicacy and dexterity of the touch,
and at once proposed the health of the gentleman, name unknown,
who had signalised 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.'
' He has a very nice face and style, really,' said Mrs. Kenwigs.
'He 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 Petowker,
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 ? ' 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 Ken-
wigses (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 J 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 h^ve heard that it was half-past ten at the
15^ NICHOLAS NlCKLEBY
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 all of which flattering
expressions, Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs replied, by thanking every lady
and gentleman, seriatim, for the favour 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 pro-
duced, 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 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 intoxicated, 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 con-
trive to exist, without trenching upon the hospitaUty of Newman
Noggs, who would have slept upon the stairs with pleasure, so that
his young friend was accommodated.
The vacant apartment to which the bill in the parlour 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 parlour lodger was empowered to treat ; he being deputed bv
the landlord to dispose of the rooms as they became vacant, and
to keep a sharp look-out that 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 neighbouring 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 him-
self down to ruminate upon his prospects, which, like the prospect
outside his window, were sufficiently confined and dingy. As they
THE GENERAL AGENCY OFFICE 157
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
Smike to arrange and re-arrange the room with as much dehght as
if it had been the costliest palace, he betook himself 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 dispossess 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 prospects of the people who surrounded him, he caught him-
self, in a few seconds, contrasting their condition with his own,
and gliding almost imperceptibly back into his old train of thought
again.
Occupied in 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 pro-
fusely 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 off in one comer, 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 contained within its rusty clasps.
As there was a board outside, which acquainted the public 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
158 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 re-
marked 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 tlie client. ' That won't do. Read another,
young man, will you ? '
' " Mrs. Wrymug," ' said Tom. ' " Pleasant Place, Finsbury.
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.
If the cook is more serious than the footman, she will be expected
to improve the footman : if the footman is more serious than the
cook, he will be expected tOvimprove 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 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 exception of dinner for Mr. and Mrs. Gallan-
bile, which, being a work of piety and necessity, is exempted. Mr.
Gallanbile dines late on the day of rest, in order to prevent the sin-
fulness 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 won't do.'
Tom made out the address, as requested, and the genteel client,
A GENTEEL APPLICANT 159
having satisfied the fat lady with a small fee, meanwhile, 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 undis-
posed of, there came into the office an applicant, in whose favour
he immediately retired, and whose appearance 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 preferred the
inquiry, and disclosed a countenance of most uncommon beauty,
though shaded by a cloud of sadness, which, in one so young, was
doubly remarkable. Having 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 coun-
tenance, 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
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,' observed 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 Nicholas —
reminders which elicited from the fat lady an inquiry, ' Now, sir,
what can we do ioi you V
Nicholas briefly replied, that he wanted to know whether there
was any such post to be had, as secretary or amanuensis to a
gentleman.
i6o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Any such ! ' rejoined the mistress ; ' a dozen such. An't there,
Tom ?'
' / should think so,' answered that young gentlerrian ; 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 disgusted.
Upon reference to the book, it appeared that the dozen secre-
taryships 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 assured 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. Gregsbury, without delay.
' I don't know what the number is,' said Tom ; ' but Manchester
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 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, shuttmg one
eye, and cocking his chin in the air. ' You didn't se«f 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 on the
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, Nicholas, with
many wrong turns, and many inquiries, and almost as many mis-
directions, 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
NICHOLAS INQUIRES FOR MR. GREGSBURY i6i
and dirty region, the sanctuary of the smaller members of Parlia-
ment in modem 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 occupiers, ranged on ministerial and opposi-
tion benches in the session 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
parlours, in the first floor, in the second, in the third, in the garrets ;
the small apartments reek with the breath of deputations and dele-
gates. 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 enter its infected limits, and shabby figures in
quest of franks, flit restlessly 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-keys in their respective keyholes : with now and then — when
a gust of wind sweeping across the water which washes the Build-
ings' feet, impels the sound towards its entrance — the weak, shrill
voice of some young member practising to-morrow'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 thoroughfare, and a short and narrow neck — and in
this respect it may be typical of the fate of some few among its
more adventurous residents, who, after wriggling themselves into
Parliament by violent effects 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 address 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
M
i62 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
confused crowd of persons with great importance depicted m their
looks ; who were, to all appearance, waiting in silent expectation of
some coming event. From time to time, one man would whisper
his neighbour, 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 v,'ere 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 o^vn position a peculiarly
uncomfortable one, Nicholas was on the point of 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 extraordinary
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 accoimt; 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 him, 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 filUng the apartment.
' Gentlemen,' said Mr. Gregsbury, ' you are welcome. I am
rejoiced to see you.'
For a gentleman who was rejoiced to see a body of visitors, 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 in to. a wicker basket at his feet, and throwing himself back
in his chair with his arms over the elbows, 'you are dissatisfied
with my conduct, I see by the newspapers.'
' Yes, Mr. Gregsbury, we are,' said a plump old gentleman in a
violent heat, bursting, out of the throng, and planting himself in the
front.
' Do my eyes deceive mje,' 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 gentle-
man.
'Give me your hand, my worthy friend,' said Mr. Gregsbury.
' Pugstyles, my dear friend, I am very sorry to see you here,'
MR. GREGSBURY RECEIVES A DEPUTATION 163
' I am very sorry to be here, sir,' said Mr. Pugstyles ; ' but your
conduct, Mr. Gregsbury, has rendered this deputation from your
constituents imperatively necessary.'
'My conduct, Pugstyles,' said Mr. Gregsbury, 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 behold the peaceful industrious
communities of our island home : her rivers covered with steam-
boats, her roads with locomotives, 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 boundless prospect of conquest and possession — achieved by
British perseverance and British valour- — which is outspread before
me, I clasp my hands, and turning my eyes to the broad expanse
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 political 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 savoured
rather too much of a ' gammon ' tendency.
'The meaning of that term — gammon,' said Mr. Gregsbury, '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 bums, 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 deputa-
tion pulled a written paper from /tis 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
voluntary pledge previous to your election, that in event of your
being returned, you would immediately piit 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
1 64 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
first debate of the session, and have since made no effort to effect
a reform in this respect? Whether you did not also pledge your-
self 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 likewise
give a voluntary pledge that you would support your colleague
on every occasion ; and whether you did not, the night before last,
desert him and vote upon the other side, laecause the wife of a
leader on that other side had invited Mrs. Gregsbury to an evening
party ? '
' Go on,' said Mr. Gregsbury.
' Nothing to say on that, either, sir ? ' asked the spokesman.
' Nothing whatever,' replied Mr. Gregsbury. The deputation,
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, em-
phatically. 'Whether, sir, you did not state upon the hustings,
that it was your firm and determined intention to oppose every-
thing proposed ; to divide the house upon every question, to move
for returns on every subject, to place a motion on the books every
day, and, in short, in your own memorable words, to play the very
devil with everything and everybody ? ' With this comprehensive
inquiry, Mr. Pugstyles folded up his list of questions, as did all
his backers.
Mr. Gregsbury reflected, blew his nose, threw himself further
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, replied (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 gammoning nature of the introductory 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 remonstrance.
MR. GREGSBURY'S reply igg
' I am requested, sir, to express a hope,' said Mr. Pugstyles, 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 favour of some candidate whom they think they
can better trust.'
To this, Mr. Gregsbury read the following reply, which, antici-
pating 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 independence
which is an Englishman's proudest boast, and which I fondly hope
to bequeath to my children, untarnished and unsullied. Actuated
by no personal motives, but moved only by high and great con-
stitutional considerations; which I will not attempt to explain,
for they are really beneath the comprehension 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 favour to present my compliments to the
constituent body, and acquaint them with this circumstance ?
' With great esteem,
' My dear Mr. Pugstyles,
' &c., &c.'
• Then you will not resign, under any circumstances ? ' asked the
Jipokesman. ,
Mr. Gregsbury smiled, and shook his head.
' Then, good morning, sir,' said Pugstyles, angrily.
' Heaven bless you ! ' said Mr. Gregsbury. And the deputation,
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,'
1 66 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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
Nicholas, ' wishing to offer myself as your secretary, and under-
standing that you stood in need of one.'
' That's all you have come for, is it ? ' said Mr. Gregsbury, eyeing
him in some doubt.
Nicholas replied in the affirmative.
' You have no connexion with any of those rascally papers, have
you ? ' said Mr. Gregsbury. ' You didn't get into the room to hear
what was going forward, and put it in print, eh ? '
' I have no connexion, 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 deputation.
' That was the way, was it ? ' said Mr. Gregsbury. ' Sit down.'
Nicholas took a chair, and Mr. Gregsbury stared at him for a
long time, as if to make certain, before he asked any further ques-
tions, that there were no objections to his outward 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 ? ' retorted the member, looking shrewdly at
him, with his head on one side.
'A secretary's duties are rather difficult to define, perhaps,' said
Nicholas, considering. ' They include, I presume, correspondence ? '
' 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,
beyond the general one of making himself as agreeable and useful
to his employer as he c r./u/ /^/ ' o/?'r//'j /ue/^a^.
MR. RALPH NICKLEBY'S GUESTS 199
without his host ; for however fresh from the country a young lady
(by nature) may be, and however unacquainted with conventional
behaviour, the chances are, that she will have quite as strong an
innate sense of the decencies and 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 introduction, he
led his blushing niece to a seat. As he did so, he glanced warily
roimd as though to assure himself of the impression 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, 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 Mulberry Hawk, in a thick coarse voice,
' take the hint, and tack it on to the other five-and-twenty, or what-
ever 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 hmbs,
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
ecstasies by a similar cause ; for Sir Mulberry Hawk, in an excess of
humour, shot dexterously past Lord Frederick 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 Honourable 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've found your way into our neighbourhood, 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 yoiir dinner,' said Sir Mulberry, ' and don't
206 NICHOLAS NICK^LESY
mind Miss Nickleby and me, for we shall prove very indifferent
company, I dare say.'
' I wish you'd interfere here, Nickleby,' said Lord Frederick,
' What is the matter, my lord ? ' demanded Ralph from the
bottom of the table, where he was supported by Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck.
'This fellow, Hawk; is monopolising 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.'
' 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, I'll
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 distinguishable 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 Mulberry 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 splendour and complete-
ness 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 signalised themselves ; these two
gentlemen eating of every dish, and drinking of every bottle, with a
capacity and perseverance truly astonishing. They were remarkably
fresh, too, notwithstanding their great exertions: for, on the
appearance of the dessert, they broke out again, as if nothing serious
had taken place since breakfast.
• Well,' said Lord Frederick, sipping his first glass of port, ' if this
A DISCOUNTING DINNER ibt
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 Mulberry
Hawk ; ' Nickleby will tell you that.'
' What do you say, Nickleby ? ' inquired the young man j ' 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 MiUtia — and the race-courses.
The gallant colonel glanced at Messrs. Pyke and Pluck as if he
thought they ought to laugh at his joke j 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 impres-
sion that it was ' an infernal liberty,' which being a hint to Lord
Frederick, he put up Ms 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. Pyke 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 affecting to scrutinise its
colour 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 Mulberry. The
latter gentleman was obliging enough to direct general attention
towards her.
' Here is Miss Nickleby,' observed Sir Mulberry, ' wondering 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.'
' Done ! ' responded Sir Mulberry. The money was produced on
both sides, and the Honourable Mr. Snobb was elected to the
double office of stake-holder and time-keeper.
' Pray,' said Kate, in great confusion, while these preliminaries
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,
202 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
however, there was an unusual huskiness, as though he spoke un-
willingly, and would rather that the proposition had not been
broached. 'It is done in a moment; there is nothing in it. If
the gentlemen insist on it '
' I don't insist on it,' said Sir Mulberry, with a loud laugh. ' That
is, I by no means insist upon Miss Nickleb/s making the denial,
for if she does, I lose ; but I shall be glad to see her bright eyes,
especially as she favours 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 ; ' you'll soon hand over.'
' Ha, ha, ha ! ' laughed Mr. Pyke.
Mr. Pluck, who always came second, and topped his companion
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 perfectly
quiet J 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, without 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
SIR MULBERRY HAWK 203
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 leamt from a female attendant,
that her uncle wished to see her before she left, and had also
gleaned the satisfactory intelligence, that the gentlemen 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 member of the party
was returning alone. Nothing occurring, however, to realise her
apprehensions, she endeavoured to fix her attention more closely
on her book, in which by degrees she became so much interested,
that she had read on through several chapters without heed of time
or place, when she was terrified by suddenly hearing her name pro-
nounced 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 — if a man
be a ruffian at heart, he is never the better — for wine.
' What a delightful studiOusness ! ' said this accomplished gentle-
man. ' Was it real, now, or only to display the eyelashes ? '
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 destroy
such a pretty little picture ! '
' Do me the favour to be silent now, sir,' replied Kate.
' No, don't,' said Sir Mulberry, 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, hut speaking with great indignation, ' that your behaviour
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 ap-
pearance of excessive rigour, my sweet creature? Now, be more
natural^my dear Miss Nickleby, be more natural — da'
204 NICHOLAS NlCKLEBY
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 speaking, 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 sprung forward
to leave 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 eye
upon him ; but he did not comply with her 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 ? ' demanded his friend, fiercely.
The swoln veins stood out like sinews on Ralph's wrinkled fore-
head, and the nerves about his mouth worked as though some
unendurable emotion wrung them; but" he smiled disdainfully, and
again pointed to the door.
' Do you know me, you old madman ? ' asked Sir Mulberry.
' Well,' said Ralph. The fashionable vagabond for the moment
quite quailed under the steady look of the oldeir 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 way, 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 ; yourself, 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 ? '
AN AGREEABLE UNDERSTANDING 205
Although this hurried dialogue was carried on, in a suppressed
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, ' tlwt 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 been? Come,
Nickleby, answer me that.'
. ' I tell you this,' replied Ralph, ' that if I brought her here, as a
matter of business '
'Aye, 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,
' because I thought she might make some impression on the silly
youth you have taken in hand and are lending good help 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 litde management, respect the sex and
conduct even of his usurer's niece. But if I thought to draw him
on more gently by this device, I did not think of subjecting the girl
to 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 looked 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 dis-
guising 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 flung 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 into any poverty-stricken debtor's
house, and pointed him out to a bailiff, though in attendance upon
a young child's death-bed, without the smallest concern, because it
would have been a matter quite in the ordinary course of business,
and the man would have been an offender against his only 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 nervous.
2o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Ralph took a chair at some distance ; then, another chair a httle
nearer ; then, moved a little nearer still ; then nearer again, and
finally sat himself on the same sofa, and laid his hand on Kate's
arm.
'Hush, my dear!' he said, as she drew it back, and her sobs
burst out afresh. ' Hush, hush 1 Don't 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 — that 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 j it was impossible for me to foresee it. I did 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 nobody must
know of this but you and I. Now let us walk the other way.
There. You look better even now.'
With such encouragements as these, Ralph Nickleby walked to
and fro, with his niece leaning on his armj actually trembling
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 neighbouring 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 before him, with the very look it bore on some occasion of
MISS LA CREEVY AS AMBASSADRESS 207
boyish grief of which every minutest circumstance flashed upon his
mind, with the distinctness of a scene of yesterday.
Ralph Nickleby, who was proof against all appeals of blood and
kindred — who was steeled against every tale of sorrow and distress
■ — staggered while he looked, and went back into his house, as a
man who had seen a spirit from some world beyond the grave.
CHAPTER XX
WHEREIN NICHOLAS AT LENGTH ENCOUNTERS HIS UNCLE, TO
WHOM HE EXPRESSES HIS SENTIMENTS WITH MUCH CANDOUR.
HIS RESOLUTION
Little 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 commission 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 com-
munication, she cogitated a good deal upon the probable causes of
her yoimg friend's indisposition.
' 1 don't know what to make of it,' said Miss La Creevy. ' 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 established
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 behaviour of that old bean
Cross to her, I suppose ? Unpleasant brute ! '
Relieved by this expression of opinion, albeit it was vented upon
empty air. Miss La Creevy trotted on to Madame Mantalini's ; and
being informed that the governing power was not yet out of bed,
requested an interview wijth the second in command; whereupon
Miss Knag appeared.
' So far as / am concerned,' said Miss Knag, when the message
had been delivered, with many ornaments of speech; 'I could
spare Miss Nickleby for evermore.'
' Oh, indeed, ma'am ! ' rejoined Miss La Creevy, highly offended.
2o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' But, you see, you are not mistress of the business, 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 Creevy.
' Then good morning, ma'am,' said Miss Knag.
' Good morning to you, ma'am ; and many obligations for your
extreme poHteness and good breeding,' rejoined Miss La Creevy.
Thus terminating the interview during which both ladies had
trembled very much, and been marvellously polite — certain indi-
cations that they were within an inch of a very desperate 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 painting of her :
I'd Ao 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 v/ent home to breakfast, in great good
humour.
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 sar-
castic as she could be, on people who offended 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 living 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 of Syria, the humble artist had pursued her lonely, but
contented way for many years ; and, until the peculiar misfortunes
of the Nickleby family attracted her attention, had made no friends,
though brimfull of the friendliest feelings to all mankind. There
are many warm hearts in the same solitary guise as poor little Miss
La Creevy's.
However, that's neither here nor there, just now. She went
home to breakfast, and had scarcely caught the full flavour of her
first sip of tea, when the servant announced a gentleman, 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 bedroom ; any-
where,' 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
AN EARLY VISITOR 209
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, extending
his hand.
' Why, I think I should even have known you 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 angry, 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 try,' 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 ? '
She stopped here ; for there was so much heart in her altered
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,' answered
Nicholas, with a more sprightly air ; ' neither did I come here, to
bewail my lot, but on matter more to the purpose. 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 in the
same room with his very boots, would put me out of humour for a
fortnight.'
' In the main,' said Nicholas, ' there may be no great difference
of opinion between you and me, so far ; but you will understand,
that I desire to confront him, to justify myself, and to cast his
duplicity and malice in his throat,' p
210 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' That's quite another matter,' rejoined Miss La Creevy. ' Heaven
forgive me ; but I shouldn't cry my eyes quite out of my head if
they choked him. Well ? ' . . ,
' To this end, I called upon him this morning,' said Nicholas.
' 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 move-
ments, that he intends seeing my mother and sister to-day, and
giving 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 I want
you to do for me, is, to prepare them for my coming. They think
me a long way off, and if I went wholly unexpected, 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 quarter 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 with the will,
as the will is with the power, / think.'
Talking 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 to 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 way 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.
A :bill of indictment 21*
'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 previous con-
viction, 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 1
Mama, how can you sit and hear such statements ? '
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 affairs to a most complicated
state of perplexity, made no other reply to this earnest remon-
strance 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 an 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 his presence.
' Everything,' 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,
ai2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 flesh 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 your-
self, runs wanton, and youthful misery stalks precocious ; where the
lightness of childhood shrinks into the heaviness of age, and its
every 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 !'
,.yM: cyia-yi/ ■^ui/~//'^»y Ai?//^/ ixwyi,
MRS. SQUfeERS'S RING 2 13
' Oh dear me ! ' cried Mrs. Nickleby, ' I don't know what to
think, I really don't.'
'Do not speak just now, mama, I entreat you,' said Kate.
' Dear Nicholas, I only tell you, that you may know what wicked-
ness 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 worth-
less 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 unhappy child, and
that I found it when I opened my bundle 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, ' every-
thing 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 Nicholas,
embracing his sister. ' I 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 considet
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, fdt 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. I held out no promise, and leave
you to judge for yourself. I hold out no threat now, but I say that
214 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 compound of meanness and
cruelty, and, as I 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 glances at Nicholas would have shown it him, in all
its force, as he proceeded in the above address. Innocent as the
young man was of all wrong, every artful insinuation 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 a 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 daughter.
I am quite sure of that ; I know you did, and it was very 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 renounce 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 expressions 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 " if Nicholas has done what they say he has,"
mama ? ' 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 j ' Nicholas is so violent, and your uncle has so
jnuch 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 Workhouse, or the Refuge for the Destitute, or
the Magdalen Hospital, I dare say ; and the sooner we go the
better.' With this extraordinary 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 presence, 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
NICHOLAS CAUTIONS HIS UNCLE ^15
shoulder, 'do not say so. My dear brother, you will break my
heart. Mama, speak to him. Do not mind her, Nicholas; 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 forget each other apart,
and better days 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 together, before
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 favours, and you cannot leave us to bear them alone,
without one hand to help us.'
' You will bedielped when I am away,' replied Nicholas, hurriedly.
' I am no help to you, no protector ; I 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 sympathy,' 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
which he had preserved throughout the interview, and moved not
a finger.
'Whatever step you take, sir,' he said, in a voice inaudible
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
2i6 NICHOLAS NICKILEBY
crowded upon him, many doubts and hesitations 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 coiidition 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 depressed, as his quickly shifting thoughts presented
every variety 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 experi-
enced, 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 turning 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 ot
sornething else to-day.'
' Of what you like,' replied Nicholas, good-humouredly.
' Of this,' said Siriike. ' 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'
MISS KNAG'S t)ISPLEAStJRE 617
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.'
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 incumbrance 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, wherewith she seemed
meekly to compassionate the wickedness of mankind.
The attendants were not slow to echo the sigh, and Miss Knag
2i8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
was apparently on the eve of favouring them with some further
moral reflections, when the voice of Madame Mantalini, conveyed
through the speaking-tube, ordered Miss Nickleby 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 lips so hard,
that her powers of conversation were, for the time, annihilated.
'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 Mantalini,
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,' rejoined Madame.
' I am still more sorry to hear that,' said Kate, gently. ' Bodily
illness is more easy to bear, than mental.'
'Ah! and it's much easier to talk than to bear either,' said
Madame, nibbing her nose with much irritability of manner. 'There,
get to your work, child, and put the things in order, do.'
While Kate was wondering within herself what these symptoms
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 bewitching
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 me! ' exclaimed Mantalini. ' Fibs, fibs. It
couldn't be. There's not a woman alive, that could tell me such
a thiiig to my face — to my own face.' Mr. Mantalini stroked
his chin as he said this, and glanced complacently 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.
MADAME • MANTALINI IN DIFFICULTIES 219
' See what a situation you have placed me in ! ' urged Madame.
' No harm will come, no harm shall come, to its own darling,'
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 ? '
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 unexpected outlay of money in
payment of the aforesaid debts ; and furthermore, to certain agree-
able weaknesses on that gentleman's part, such as gaming, wasting,
idUng, 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 appear-
ances. ' 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 bespeckled with flue ; and his shoes, stockirigs, and
nether garments, from his heels to the waist buttons of his coat
inclusive, 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,
22& NICHOLAS N1CK.LEBY
and standing with his back against it. ' This is a unpleasant bisiiess.
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 reassured by
this inquiry. ' Do you want him ? '
' No,' replied the visitor. ' I don't ezactly want him, if it's made
a favour on. You can jist give him that 'ere card, and tell him
if he wants to speak to me, and save trouble, here I 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 contract vith the
ceiling.'
After ringing 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 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
bell for her husband ; which done, she fell into a chair and a fainting
fit, simultaneously. The professional gentlemen, however, were
not at all discomposed by this event, for Mr. Scaley, leaning upon
^^S2^
c J^- f.y/i.fye^^f.f?u//-^e.K^^u'y/7 a/-. ■MaaiZ'Wc
'ay?-i.cai<^futii.
IN POSSESSION 221
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 perfect unconcern, while his friend Mr. Tix, taking that
opportunity for a general survey of the apartment preparatory to
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 ninepence
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-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 — worry good. Then
Mr. Tom Tix, esk-vire, you must inform your angel wife and
iovely 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 con-
solation 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 delicate task he was materially assisted
by the uncommon tact and experience of Mr. Tix, the broker.
' My cup of happiness's sweetener,' said Mantalini, approaching
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
222 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
sooner heard these words pronounced in a tone of grief and
severity, than he recoiled several paces, assumed an expression
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
fine 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.
'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 demnition 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 requesting 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 affectionate partner.
After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies were
informed that their services would be dispensed with, until further
notice, and at the expiration of two days, the name of Mantalini
appeared in the Ust of bankrupts: Miss Nickleby received an
intimation per post, on 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 required — a piece of intelligence
with which Mrs. Nickleby was no sooner made acquainted, than
MRS. NICKLEBY'S RECOMMENDATION 323
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 observe, had never said so before), ' I say again, that
a milliner's and dress-maker's is the very 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 own mother "'
' Well, well, mama,' said Kate, mildly ; ' what would you recom-
mend now ? '
' Recommend ! ' cried Mrs. Nickleby, ' isn't it obvious, my dear,
that of all occupations in this world for a young lady situated as
you are, that of companion to some amiable lady is the very
thing for which your education, and manners, and personal appear-
ance, 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 husband, 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 favourable recollec-
tion was occasioned by some opening, real or imaginary, which her
mother had discovered, in the companionship walk of life. She there-
fore 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 news-
paper was an advertisement, couched in the purest and most
grammatical English, announcing that a married lady was in want
of a genteel young person as companion, and that the married lady's
name and address were to be known, on application at a certain
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 objectioa
224 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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.
Cadoj^an Place is the one slight bond that joins two great
extremes ; it is the connecting link between the aristocratic pave-
ments of Belgrave Square, and the barbarism of Chelsea. It is in
Sloane Street, but not of it. The people in Cadogan Place 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 connexions, although
their connexions 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, lived 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
prdinary 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 sho^vn
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 botidoir ; but whether it was
that Mr. Wititterly was at that moment shaving himself in the
boudoir or what not, certain it is that Mrs. Wititterly gave audience
in the drawing-room, where was everything proper and necessary,
AT MRS. WITITTERLY'S 225
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. Wititterly's amusement, and the
afore-mentioned page, to hand chocolate for Mrs. Wititterly's re-
freshment.
The lady had an air of sweet insipidity, and a face of engaging
paleness ; there was a faded look about her, and about the furniture,
and about the house. She was reclining on a sofa in such a very
unstudied 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 advertise-
ment.'
' 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 opportunity,
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 in-
dependent 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 unnecessary, mama.'
And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which Mrs.
Nickleby intimated that she was going to say something which
would clench the business at once, Kate maintained her point by
Q
226 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 fingers ;
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, opening 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 Uttle 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 important
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? " My dear doctor,"
said I to Sir Tumley Snuflfim, 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, diiates-;-the blood fires, the pulse quickens, the
TOO MUCH SOUL FOR ANY BODY 227
excitement increases — Whew ! " ' Here Mr. Wititterly, who, in
the ardour of his description, 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, connexion, 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 opinion 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 to show that you
are no ordinary person, that there is a constant 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 were 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 footman, relieving guard at that
point, .piloted them in perfect safety to the street-doon
228 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'They are very distinguished 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 calculation
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 splendour 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
question 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 very great
joy — was favourable ; and at the expiration of a week she betook
herself, with all her moveables and valuables, to Mrs. Wititterly's
mansion, where for the present we will leave her,
CHAPTER XXH
NICHOLAS, ACCOMPANIED BY SMIKE, SALLIES FORTH TO SEEK HIS
FORTUNE. HE ENCOUNTERS MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES j 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 few 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 occasionally
there loomed through the dull vapour, 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
SMIKE AND NICHOLAS TAKE THE ROAD 229
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
rumbling of ponderous carts and waggons ; the roll of the lighter
vehicles 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
muffled by the fog, and to be rendered almost as indistinct 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 for him ; for there was at least
one heart within its old walls to which insult or dishonour would
bring the same blood rushing that flowed in his own veins.
He crossed the road, and raised his eyes 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 ! ' ^ -- thought, suddenly correcting himself, ' what a boy I am ! '
' It is b'fetter 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 bye 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 involuntarily 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 walking
as far as he could with them, over-night.
' Which way ? ' asked Newman, wistfully.
' To Kingston first,' replied Nicholas.
'And where afterwards?' asked Newman. 'Why won't you
tell me ? '
230 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 communicate 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.'
' 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 turning 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 Portsmouth.'
Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressec^no other
emotion; for whether they had been bound for Portsmouth 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 employment 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 abiUties; 'I could milk a cow, and
groom a horse, with anybody.'
' Ha ! I 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 Something else, you know.
Where there's a will, there's a way.'
, ' And I am very willing,' said Smike, brightening up again.
SMIKE'S REMINISCENCES 231
' God knows you are,' rejoined Nicholas ; ' and if you fail, it shall
go hard but I'll do enough for us both.'
'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-humoured 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 you, 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 sorrowfully. ' 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 involuntarily 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 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.
23* NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 litrte 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 ceiling. 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 remember 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 he ; 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 under 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 memory.
It was, by this time, within an hour of noon, and although a dense
vapour 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. Occasionally, in some low
spots they came upon patches of mist which the sun had not yet
driven from their strongholds ; but these were soon passed, and as
they laboured up the hills beyond, it was pleasant to look down,
and see how the sluggish mass rolled heavily off, before the
TRUDGING ALONG 233
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 earlj'
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 colours subsided, and
assumed a quieter tint, hke young hopes softened down by time,
or youthful features by degrees resolving into the calm and serenity
of age. But they were scarcely less beautiful 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 Godalming 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 j 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 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
oflf so delicately, and merging so gently into the level ground, that
you could scarce define its limits. Hills swelling above each other ;
and undulations, shapely and uncouth, smooth and rugged, graeeful
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
234 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
round the nearest hills, 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,' observed 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.'
' Wouldn't you ? ' asked Nicholas, with the same uncertainty.
' 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 Nicholas, 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
lire 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 ? ' 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 J
wcffcld 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 parlour that's ordered a hot beef-steak pudding
and potatoes, at nine. There's more of it than he can manage,
MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES AND SONS 235
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. Crummies ; he
isn't particular.'
' Is he not ? ' asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the truth;
the prospect of the savoury pudding was making some impression.
' Not he,' replied the landlord. ' He'll like your way of talking,
I know. But we'll soon see all about that. Just wait a minute.'
The landlord hurried into the parlour, without staying for further
permission, nor did Nicholas strive to prevent him ; wisely con-
sidering 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 very 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, pigtail?, and pistols complete — fighting what is
called in play-bills a terrific combat, with two of those short broad-
swords with basket hilts which are commonly used at our minor
theatf es. The short boy had gained a great advantage over the tall
boy, 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 inchnation of
the head, something between the courtesy of a Roman emperor and
the nod of a pot companion ; and bade the landlord shut the door
and begone.
235 NICHOLAS NICK.LEBY
' There's a picture," said Mr. Crummies, motioning Nicholas Hot 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 satisfaction
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 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 desperately 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 overcome 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 witii 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
demonstration and closed with the tall sailor, who, after a few
unavailing 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. Crummies.
' Very goodj indeed— capital,' answered Nicholas.
,_y^^yWcwnA^cy4iiZ^^if('i ziAi^a'i^:' /-/yWcr/K/a/'.
MR. CRUMMLES VERY COMMUNICATIVE 237
' You won't see such boys as those very often, I think,' said Mr.
Cmmmles.
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 smallest reserve, and descanted at some length
upon the merits of his company, and the acquirements of his family ;
of both of which, the two broad-sword boys formed an honourable
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 engage-
ment at Guildford with the greatest applause.
' You are going that way ? ' asked the manager.
' Ye-yes,' 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 con-
fidence 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.
While he was thus engaged, Mr. Crummies looked, from time to
time, with great interest at Smike, with whom he had appeared
238 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 countenance
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 ? '
' 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,; laughing.
' 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 simul-
taneously with the junior Vincent Crummleses, turned the- conver-
sation 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 pro-
curable 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 acquaintance to share a bowl of punch, and that if he
declined, he should deem it very unhandsome behaviour.
' 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 tmth too
anxious — so, after a little demur, he accepted the offer, and having
exchanged a shake of the hand with the young Crummleses, and the
manager having on his part bestowed a mgst affectionate benediction
OVER A STEAMING BOWL OF PUNCH 239
on Smike, he sat himself down opposite to that gentleman by the
fireside to assist in emptying the bowl, which soon afterwards
appeared, steaming in a manner which was quite exhilarating to
behold, and sending forth a most grateful and inviting 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 morrov/^
cast a gloom upon him, which his utmost efforts were unable to
dispel. His attention wandered ; although he heard the mat^ager's
voice, he was deaf to what he said ; and when Mr. Vincent fZrummles
concluded the history of some long adventure witt a loud laugh, and
an inquiry what Nicholas would have done under the same circum-
stances, he was obliged to make th*" 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
iJiat 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 Nicholas.
' 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 anywhere else ? '
asked Mr. Vincent Crummies, melting the sealing-wax on the stem
of his pipe in the candle, and rolling it out afresh with his little
finger.
'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-biscuits,' 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 he 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 practised hand,' rephed the
manager; ' and they as plentiful there, as the oysters in the streets.'
240 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'What do you mean?' asked Nicholas, alarmed by this pre-
diction, and the confident tone in which it had been uttered. ' Men
are not born able seamen. They must be reared, I suppose ? '
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
^our figure and address could take up easily, and see the world to
advantage in ? ' asked the manager.
' Nh'.' said Nicholas, shaking his head.
' Wny^then, I'll tell you one,' said Mr. Crummies, throwing his
pipe into tEe'^rfe, and raising his voice. ' The stage.'
' The stage ! ' cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud.
' The theatrical profession,' s-^id Mr. Vincent Crummies. ' I am
in the theatrical profession myselr, my wife is in the theatrical pro-
fession, my children are in the theatrical profession. I had a dog
that lived 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 proposal. ' I never
acted a part in my life, except at school.'
' There's genteel comedy in your walk and manner, juvenile
tragedy in your eye, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh,' said
Mr. Vincent Crummies. ' You'll do as well as if you had thought
of nothing else but the lamps, from your birth downwards.'
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 education can 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 company, 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 establishment — new and
splendid scenery — ^you must manage to introduce a real pump and
two washing-tubs.'
' Into the piece ? ' said Nicholaa.
RECRUITS FOR THE BRITISH DRAMA 241
' Yes,' replied the manager. ' I bought 'em cheap at a sale the
other day, and they'll come in admirably. That's the London play.
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 your
own salary, and your friend's, 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
R
243 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
than he had expected: the manager, and himself 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 conse-
quence of his theatrical education^ — evinced, every now and then, a
strong inchnation to he down. However, Mr. Vincent Crummies
kept him up pretty well, by jerking the rein, and plying the whip ;
and when these means failed, and the animal came to a. stand, the
elder Master Crummies got 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, tummg 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-favoured 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 melo-
drama 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 increased
attention from Mr. Crummies as he progressed in his day's work,
that gentleman had very little time for conversation. 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'
PRESENTED TO MRS. CRUMMLES 243
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 ; feeling 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 dis-
played in windows, wherein the names of Mr. Vincent Crummies,
Mrs. Vincent Crummies, Master Crummies, Master P. Crummies,
and Miss Crummies, were printed in very large letters, and every-
thing 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 Ports-
mouth 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 finery.'
' Why, so it is,' rephed Nicholas, hardly less surprised ; ' but not
by day, Smike — not by day."
The manager's voice recalled him from a more careful inspection
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 con-
versation with Mrs. Kenwigs), 'let me introduce Mrs. Vincent
Crummies.'
' I am glad to see you, sir,' said Mrs. Vincent Crummies, 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 in
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 actresses
cross when they obey a stage direction, ' and this is the other. You
too, are welcome, sir.'
244 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' He'll do, I think, my dear?' said the manager, taking a pinch of
snufF.
' He is admirable,' replied the lady. ' An acquisition, mdeed.'
As Mrs. Vincent Crummies recrossed back to the table, there
bounded on to the stage 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 footUghts, 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 way, if you please, Mr. Johnson. 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 four
fingers, 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 ex-
hibit other indications 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 perceiving it, leant his left
ear on his left hand, and nodded sideways, 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 all
the while, and when it was done, plucked from a neighbouring 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 rapture 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
MERITS OF THE INFANT PHENOMENON 245
uncertainty, whether she would ultimately marry the savage, or
leturn to her friends.
' Very well indeed,' said Mr. Crummies ; ' bravo ! '
' Bravo ! ' cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of everythinc;.
' 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 every place we go into, sir. We have had complimen-
tary 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, my 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 extraordinary.'
It was ; for the infant phenomenon, though of short stature, had
a comparatively aged countenance, and had moreover been precisely
the same age — not perhaps to the full extent of the memory of the
oldest inhabitant, but certainly for five good years. But she had
been kept up late every night, and put upon an unlimited allowance
of gin-and-water from infancy, to prevent her growing tall, and
perhaps this system of training had produced in the infant pheno-
menon these additional 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 drawing in
his breath with a hissing sound, ' she oughtn't to be in the provinces,
she oughtn't.'
246 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 Nicholas.
' 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 collection, 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 bom 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. ' Isn't it
enough to make a man crusty to see that little 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 know
of fifteen and sixpence that came to Southampton one night last
month, to see me dance the Highland Fling ; and what's the conse-
quence? I've never been put up in it since — never once — while
the "infant phenomenon" has been grinning through artificial
flowers at five people and a baby in the pit, and two boys in the
gallery, 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 own 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 fellow, how are _you ? '
The gentleman addressed in these latter words, was a dark-
complexioned man, inclining indeed to sallow, with long thick
black hair, and very evident indications (although he was close
A NEW APPEARANCE 247
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 have 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 necker-
chief of broad red and green stripes, and full blue trousers; he
carried, too, a comtaon 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 throw-
ing himself into a fencing attitude, made a pass or two at the
side-scenes, or 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 dexterously with his slipper, 'what's the
news ? '
'A new appearance, that's all,' replied Mr. Folair, looking at
Nicholas.
' Do the honors. Tommy, do the honors,' said the other gentle-
man, tapping him reproachfully on the crown of the hat with his
stick.
' 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 acting is rather in
the heavy and ponderous way,' said Mr. Lenville. ' I mustn't be
cracking jokes though, for I've got a part of twelve lengths here,
which I must.be up in to-morrow night, and I haven't had time
tOj look at it yet ; I'm 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 very
amiable to the infant phenomenon, was an inebriated elderly gentle-
man in the last depths of shabbiness, who played the calm and
virtuous old men; and paying especial court to Mrs. Crummies
248 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
was another elderly gentleman, a shade more respectable, who
played the irascible 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
rough-looking person 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 swagger-
ing comedy. There was, also, a little group of three or four young
men, with lantern jaws and thick eye-brows, who were conversing
in one corner; but they seemed to be of secondary import-
ance, and laughed and talked together without attracting any
attention.
The ladies were gathered in a little knot by themselves round
the rickety table before mentioned. There was Miss SneveUicci —
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 impressions were hung up for
tale 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 obligingly confided these particulars to
Nicholas, left him to mingle with his fellows; the work of personal
The leading lady of the coivipAlsrY 24c)
inttoduction was completed by Mr. Vincent Crummies, who publicly
heralded the new actor as a prodigy of genius 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 Canterbury,' said Miss
Snevellicci, ' only for a few moments, for I was leaving the com-
pany 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 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,' retorted
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 think 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
very 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 ; everybody 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 '
250 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' On Monday morning,' repeated Mr. Crummies, raising his voice,
to drown the unfortunate Mr. Johnson's remonstrance ; ' 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.
' 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 I can't,' returned Nicholas; 'my invention is not
accustomed to these demands, or possibly I 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 im-
patience. ' 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 ! 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 bedstead in the
pit, but he merely remarked that he had not tuined 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 phenomenon, 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 boy run back to stare them in the face, the severe
MUTTON AND ONION SAUCE 251
expression of their countenaiices relaxed, for they felt it was
popularity.
Mr. Crummies lived in Saint Thomas's Street, at the house of
one Bulph, a pilot, who sported a boat-green door, with window-
frames of the same colour, and had the little finger of a drowned
man on his parlour 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 j ' 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, disappeared,
and after a short inter\-al re-appeared with the festive 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.
' And two pound of that was trust, pa,' said the phenomenon.
'And two pound of that was trust,' repeated Mr. Crummies.
' 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.
253 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 received 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 very extraordinary that she should 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 very good,' replied Nicholas hastily ; ' but I think per-
haps it would be better if I had somebody of my own size at first, in
case I should turn out 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 : devoutly hoping that it would be
a very long time before he was honoured with this distinction.
'Then I'll tell you what we'll do,' said Mr. Crummies. 'Ton
shall study Romeo when you've done that piece — don't forget to
throw the pump and 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 easily 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 Ports-
mouth, and no difficulty in finding some that are proportionate 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 leading 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.'
NICHOLAS IN HIS NEW LODGINGS 353
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 footsteps 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.'
' 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, undoubtedly, a great
convenience to be able to reach anything you want from the ceiUug
or the floor, or either side of the room, without having to move
from your chair, still these advantages can only be had in an apart-
ment of the most Umited 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, arid after-
wards 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 very good
business,'
254 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' After which,' said Nicholas, ' you are troubled with remorse 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 afterwards.'
' 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 Mr.
Folair; 'and we go into poor lodgings, where I won't take any
wages, and talk sentiment, I suppose ? '
' Why — yes,' rephed 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, observing
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. 'Gadzooks,
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-hand-
kerchief — " What makes you weep, mama ? " says the child. " Don't
weep, mama, or you'll make me weep too ! " — " And me ! " says
the faithful servant, rubbing his eyes with his arm. " What can we
do to raise your spirits, dear mama ? " says the little child. " Aye,
what can we do ? " says the faithful servant. " Oh, Pierre ! " says
the distressed lady ; " would that I could shake off these pamful
thoughts." — "Try, ma'am, try," says the faithful servant; "rouse
yourself, ma'am; be amused."— "I will," says the 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, over-
'A PRETTY GOOD LET' 255
powered 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 willingly gave
them the best breakfast he could, and, when he at 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.
Here all the people were so much changed, that he scarcely knew
them. False hair, false colour, false calves, false muscles^ — they had
become different beings. Mr. Lenville was a blooming warrior of
most exquisite proportions;. Mr. Crummies, his large face shaded
by a profusion of black hair, a Highland outlaw of most majestic
bearing ; one of the old gentlemen a gaoler, and the other a vener-
able patriarch; the comic countryman, a fighting-man of great valour,
relieved by a touch of humour; 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 splendour and preparation.
Nicholas was standing with his back to the curtain, now con-
templating the first scene, which was a Gothic archway, about two
feet shorter than Mr. Crummies, through which that gentleman was
to make his first entrance, and now listening to a couple of people
who were cracking nuts in the gallery, 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 ? '
'YeSj' 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 otherwise, to
have visited the theatre on a night when the phenomenon did not
play, inasmuch as she always sustained one, and not uncommonly
two or three characters, every night ; but Nicholas, sympathising
with the feelings of a father, refrained from hinting at this trifling
circumstance, and Mr. Crummies continued to talk, uninterrupted
by him.
256 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Six,' said that gentleman ; ' Pa and Ma eight, aunt nine, gover-
ness 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 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,' repUed 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 process 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 begin .in earnest, set the
orchestra playing a variety of popular airs, with involuntary varia-
tions.
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 confidential 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 admira-
tion, which testified itself in great applause, and the closest possible
attention to the business of the scene. The plot was most interest-
ing. It belonged to no particular age, people, or country, and was
perhaps the more delightful on that account, as nobody's previous
information could afford the remotest 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 sound 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
unburied, though whether from a peculiar taste on the part of the
old gentleman himself, or the reprehensible neglect of his relations,
did not appear. The 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 uncertain whether he had brought up
the right ones in his castle, or the wrong ones ; he rather inclined
to the latter opinion, and, being uneasy, relieved his mind with a
banquet, during which solemnity somebody in a cloak said 'Beware-!'
which somebody was known by nobody (except the audience) to be
THE OUTLAW 257
the outlaw himself, who had come there, for reasons unexplained,
but possibly with an eye to the spoons. There was an agreeable
little surprise in the way of c'ertain love passages between the des-
ponding captive and Miss Snevellicci, and the comic fighting-man
and Miss Bravassa; 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
refreshments and a dark lantern. At last, it came out that the
patriarch 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, every-
body got hold of everybody else, and took them for somebody
besides, which occasioned a vast quantity of confusion, with some
pistolling, 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 in-
side, 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 very
red and hot, for your outlaws are desperate fellows to shout.
'1 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. Cmramles.
' Oh ! I understand,' replied Nicholas.
' You see,' said Mr. Crummies, ' it's sure to go, on such an occa-
sion, 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 ? You'll have done it, and are sure to be
up in the lover's part, long before that time.'
S
2S8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 attraction. She had
a bespeak when her mother-in-law died, and a bespeak when her
uncle died ; and Mrs. Crummies and myself have had bespeaks on
the anniversary of the phenomenon'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 very soul of honor. It would be of material service — the
gentleman from London — author of the new piece-factor 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 I must
decidedly object to making one of the canvassing party.'
' What does Mr. Johnson say, Vincent ? ' inquired a voice close
to his ear ; and, looking 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. Gallantry, humanity, all
the best feelings of his nature, must be enlisted in this interesting
cause.'
' Which moves even a manager,' said Mr. Crummies, smiling.
MISS SNEVELLICCrS LODGINGS 259
'And a manager's wife,' added Mrs. Crummies, in her ac-
customed tragedy tones. ' Come, come, you will relent, I 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 nothing 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 ex-
pressions 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.
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 whispering — ' She won't be
long.'
As she spoke she pulled up the window-blind, and havmg by this
means (as she thought) diverted Mr. Johnson's attention 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
26o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
otherwise have bestowed 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 with little pockets orna-
mented 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 Snevel-
licci 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 Snevellicci's acting, extracted
from different provincial journals, together with one poetic address
in her honor commencing —
Sing, God of Love, and tell me in what dearth
Thrice-gifted Snevei.licci came on earth.
To thrill us with her smile, her tear, her eye.
Sing, God of Love, and tell me quickly why.
Besides this effusion, there were innumerable complimentary allu-
sions, also extracted from newspapers, such as — 'We observe from
an advertisement in another part of our paper of to-day, that the
charming and highly-talented Miss Snevellicci 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 fellow-townsmen have not lost that high appre-
ciation 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 Correspondents. — 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 7iot 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 assortment
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 ol
'HOW CARELESS OF LED!' 261
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 into 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 Snevellicci,
buttoning her glove in much confusion.
' If it be flattery to admire your charms and accomplishments,'
rejoined Nicholas, laying his hand upon the scrap-book, ' you have
better specimens of it here.'
' Oh you cruel creature, to read such things as those ! I'm
almost ashamed to look you in the face afterwards, positively 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 you 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 light-
ness, bearing in her hand a very httle 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 accidents, the green
parasol was dropped down an iron grating, and only fished up
again, with great difficulty and by dint of much exertion. However,
it was impossible to scold her, as she was the manager's daughter,
so Nicholas took it all in perfect good humour, 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 reply 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.
262 NICHOLAS NICKLEBV
With this, he showed them into a parlour where he kept them
waiting, until the two women-servants had repaired thither, under
false pretences, to see the play-actors ; and having compared notes
with them in the passage, and joined in a vast quantity of whisper-
ing and giggling, 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 hterature and the drama ; and as to Mr. Curdle,
he had written a pamphlet of sixty-four pages, post octavo, on the
character of the Nurse's deceased husband in Romeo and Juliet,
with an inquiry whether he really had been a ' merry man ' in his
life-time, or whether it was merely his widow's aifectionate partiality
that induced her so to report him. He had likewise proved,
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 parlour,
' and how do yoii 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 wrapper, with a little cap
stuck upon the top of her head. Mr. Curdle wore a loose robe on
his back, and his right fore-finger on his forehead after the portraits
of Sterne, to whom somebody 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, pro-
ducing 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 realisa-
tion 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 colours with which the character of
Hamlet is invested ? ' exclaimed Mrs. Curdle.
'What man indeed — upon the stage,' said Mr. Curdle, with a
small reservation in favour of himself. ' Hamlet ! Pooh ! ridiculous !
Hamlet is gone, perfectly gone.'
Quite overcome by these dismal reflections, Mr, and Mrs. Curdle
'THE UNITIES OF THE DRAMA* 263
sighed, and sat for some short time without speaking. At length,
the lady, turning to Miss Snevellicci, inquired what play she
proposed to have.
' Quite a new one,' said Miss Snevellicci, ' of which this gentle-
man is the author, and in which he plays ; being his first appearance
on any stage. Mr. Johnson is the gentleman's name.'
' 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 '
' — All unavailing without a strict observance of the unities,
sir,' returned Mr. Curdle, 'The unities of the drama, before
everything.'
' Might I ask you,' said Nicholas, hesitating between the respect
he ought to assume, and his love of the whimsical, ' might I ask you
what the unities are ? '
Mr. Curdle coughed and considered. ' The unities, sir,' he said,
' are a completeness — a kind of a universal dovetailedness 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 colouring, 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 hstening 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 performances. Let it go
forth to the world, that we do not give them the sanction of our
names, but that we confer the distinction merely upon Miss
Snevellicci. That being clearly stated, I take it to be, as it were, a
duty, that we should extend 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 comers of the pink reticule, but
there was nothing in any of them, Nicholas murmured a jest
254 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
about his being an author, and thought it best not to go through
the form of feeUng in his own pockets at all.
'Let me see,' said Mr. Curdle; 'twice four's eight— four shilhngs
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 SnevelUcci took the three half-crowns, with many
smiles and bends, and Mrs. Curdle, adding several supplementary
directions relative to keeping the places for them, and dustmg 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 SnevelUcci, 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 patronised you; and
if you were to fail, they would have been quite certain of that from
the very 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 private 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. Borum to take a private box,'
said the lady of the house, after a most gracious reception. '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 pinching the
phenomenon behind, apparently with a view of ascertaining whether
she was real.
' I am sure you must be very tired,' said the mama, turning 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 children.'
Miss Lane was the governess, and this entreaty was rendered
necessary by the abrupt behaviour of the youngest Miss Borum,
who, having filched the phenomenon's little green parasol, was
now carrying it bodily off, while the distracted 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, ' I cannot
A TRYING MORNING 265
understand (Emma, don't stare so); laughing in one piece, and
crying in the next, and so natural in all — oh, dear ! '
' I am yery happy to hear you express so favourable 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 flattening of the pink gauze bonnet, and
a rather extensive creasing 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, and others hoped he would have more to do than
he usually had. Some people wouldn't promise 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 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 bells in all t^e 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 undertaken
this ofiSce during the indisposition of the regular bill-sticker, a part
were posted sideways, and the remainder upside down.
266 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 Master Crum-
mies 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 nervous that she
could hardly remember her part. Miss Bravassa'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
piece. The first scene, in which there was nobody particular,
passed off calmly enough, but when Miss Snevellicci 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 handkerchiefs, 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; tiie tailor and his
family kicked at the panels of the upper boxes till they threatened
to come out altogether ; the very ginger-beer boy remained trans-
fixed in the centre of the house; a young ofiScer, supposed to
entertain a passion for Miss SnevelUcci, stuck his glass in his eye
as though to hide a tear. Again and again Miss Snevellicci
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 SneveUicci's eye, it reached its cUmax, 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 pistols, said, that if he was
a gentleman, he would fight him in that drawing-room, until the
furniture was' sprinkled with the blood of one, if not of two — ^how
box€s, 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 audience sobbed ! When he was hid behind the curtain in
4^a/i-ea/^A&M-ei2^-^cy..
ANOTHER NOVELTY 267
the dark, and the wicked relation poked a sharp sword in every
direction, save where his legs were plainly 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 commenda-
tion. 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 members of the company came
in, and tumbled down 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 pd of
the play, Nicholas led her on, and divided the applause.
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 extraordinary success ; for, on
the succeeding Saturday, Nicholas received, by favour of the in-
defatigable Mrs. Grudden, no less a sum than thirty shillings;
besides which substantial reward, he enjoyed considerable fame
and honor : having a presentation 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 of 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.'
268 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' A boy phenomenon, perhaps ? ' suggested Nicholas.
'There is only one phenomenon, sir,' replied Mr. Crummies
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
Lane ? '
'I should say she would look very well in the bills,' said
Nicholas.
' 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
Lane ! '
' 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 certain 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 Mrs. 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 tremendous.
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, indeed. /
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 snuflf, and shaking his head gravely. 'I
LETTER FROM MISS PETOWKER 269
pledge you my professional word I didn't even know she could
dance, till her last benefit, and then she played Juliet, and Helen
Macgregor, and did the skipping-rope hornpipe between the pieces.
The very first time I saw that admirable woman, Johnson,' said Mr.
Crummies, drawing a litde nearer, and speaking in the tone of
confidential friendship, ' she stood upon her head on the butt-end
of a spear, surrounded with blazing fireworks.'
' You astonish me ! ' said Nicholas.
'■She astonished me I' 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. Cnimmles's eulogium. Almost immediately
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 whereof, Mrs. Crummies
exclaimed, ' From Henrietta Petowker, I do declare ! ' and instantly
became absorbed in the contents.
' Is it ? ' inquired Mr. Crummies, hesitating.
' Oh, yes, it's all right,' replied Mrs. Crummies, anticipating 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 laughing violently. Nicholas
left them to enjoy their mirth together, 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 surprise with which that lady would regard his sudden
enlistment in a profession of which she was such a distinguished
and brilliant ornament.
But in this latter respect he was mistaken ; for — whether Mr.
Vincent Crummies had paved the way, 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 inseparable 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 even whispered that she had wholly dropped the Ken-
wigses in her conversations 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 with unfeigned surprise, she added, with a sweet glance,
that she had a claim on his good nature now, and might tax it
before 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
370 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 pro-
ceeded ; 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 circumstance, 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 calculation 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 visitor'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 1 Mr. Lillyvick ! '
It was, indeed, the collector of water-rates who, regarding
Nicholas, with a fixed look and immoveable countenance, shook
hands with most portentous solemnity, and sat himself down in a
seat by the chimney-comer.
' 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 per-
formance ? '
' 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.'
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 symptoms of
ecstatic approbation. ' Yes, she is a clever girl.'
' She is a divinity,' returned Mr. LillWick, giving a collector's
MISS PETOWKER EXTOLLED TO THE SKIES 271
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/ _ .
NicEoTas had much ado to prevent himself from laughing ; not
trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded in accordance with
Mr. Lillyvick's nods, and remained silent.
' Let me speak a word with you in private,' said Mr. Lillyvick.
Nicholas looked good-humouredly 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 sixty year, and I ought to know what it is.'
' You ought to know, certainly,' 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 property. 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.'
' Fine women ? ' asked Nicholas.
' Fine women, sir ! ' replied the collector ; ' aye ! not so fine as
Henrietta Petowker, for she is an uncommon specimen, 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 benig-
nantly 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 I'm going to marry her; and the day after to-morrow, too.'
' I congratulate you, sir,' said Nicholas.
272 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 onej that's a con-
solation.'
' Surely you don't want any consolation at such a moment ? '
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 married,
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 anybody. 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 Petowker (it
was settled between us) should come down here to her friends, the
Crummleses, under pretence of this engagement, 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 a,bout us, we have thought it best to let you into the secret.
We shall be married from the Crummleses' lodgings, and shall be
delighted to see you — either before church or at breakfast-time,
which you like. It won't be expensive, you know,' said the col-
lector, highly anxious to prevent any misunderstanding on this
point ; ' just muffins and coffee, with perhaps a shrimp or something
of that sort for a rehsh, 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 acquaintance 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 theatrical.'
MISS PETOWKER LED TO THE ALTAR 373
' 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 frierid of Henrietta Petowker's. Well, you'll be care-
ful 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 exhibited
through the whole of this interview a most extraordinary com-
pound of precipitation, hesitation, confidence and doubt, fondness,
misgiving, meanness, and self-importance, turned his back 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 ap-
peared 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 succeed-
ing 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 condition.
' 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 firmness, 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 resig-
nation on such occasions ; and that although for their parts they
held true happiness to consist in a single Ufe, which they would not
willingly exchange—no, not for any worldly consideration— still
T
274 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
(thank Heaven), if ever the time should come, they hoped they knew
their duty too well to repine, but would the rather submit with
meekness and humility of spirit to a fate for which Providence had
clearly designed them with a view to the contentment 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.'
This pious reasoning, and perhaps the fear of being too late,
supported the bride through the ceremony of robing, after which,
strong tea and brandy were administered in alternate doses as a
means of strengthening her feeble limbs and causing her to walk
steadier,
' How do you feel now, my love ? ' inquired Miss Snevellicci.
' Oh Lilly vick ! ' cried the bride. ' If you knew what I am under-
going 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, always, always ? '
There is no knowing in what this burst of feeling might have
ended, if Miss Snevellicci had not at that moment proclaimed the
arrival of the fly, which so astounded the bride that she shook off
divers alarming symptoms which were coming 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 sal 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 cockades, and were decorated with
the choicest and most resplendent waistcoats in the theatrical ward-
robe. By the combined exertions 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 ] ' s^id the collector : ' cheer up, my lovely
pne.'
MR. CRUMMLES AS FATHER 275
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
darhng friends, of my youthful days^to leave them all — it is such
a shock ! '
With such expressions of sorrow. Miss Petowker went on 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 collec-
tor, and Mr. Folair, who had been chosen as his second on the
occasion. In the other were the bride, Mr. Crummies, Miss
SneveUicci, Miss Ledrook, and the phenomenon. The costumes
were beautiful. The bridesmaids were quite covered with artificial
flowers, and the phenomenon, in particular, was rendered almost
invisible by the portable arbour 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 bargain, 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 stem 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 gentle-
man, 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 aiid pattern commonly known
as a brown George, and moreover assuming a snuff-coloured suit,
of the previous century, with grey silk stockings, and bucldes to
his shoes. The better 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
heartrending 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
276 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
four bridesmaids, forming a group previously arranged and rehearsed;
the collector, followed by his second, imitating his walk and gestures,
to the indescribable amusement of 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 alternately ; it was the completest thing ever witnessed.
The ceremony was very quickly disposed of, and all parties present
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 collegtor. ' 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 very much when anybody 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 hitn, he would leave
as little as possible for the Crummleses to eat up afterwards.
' It's very 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,' rephed Mr. Folair.
' It don't take long, does it ? '
' No, sir,' replied Mr. Lillyvick, colouring. ' 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 ? 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. Lillyvick was dignified
beyond expression.
' To hang himself ! ' cried Mr. Lillyvick again. ' Is any parallel
attempted to be drawn in this company between matrimony and
hanging ? '
' The noose, you know,' said Mr. Folair, a little crestfallen.
' The noose, sir ? ' retorted Mr. Lillyvick. ' Does any man dare
to speak to me of a noose, and Henrietta Pe '
' Lillyvick,' suggested Mr. Crummies.
' — and Henrietta Lillyvick in the same breath ? ' said the collec-
tor. '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 ? '
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST
' Fdair,' said Mr. Crummies, deeming it a matter of decep^-^
be affected by this allusion to himself and partner, ' I'm a^fonis;
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 glorying 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. Lilly-
vick considered that the fittest occasion (the attention of the com'
pany 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, fpr 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, contenting
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 themselves, and one by
the phenomenon on behalf of the bridesmaids, at which Mrs.
Crummies shed tears. There was some singing, too, from Miss
Ledrook and Miss Bravassa, and very likely there might have been
more, if the fly-driver, who stopped to drive the happy pair to the
spot where they proposed to take steam-boat to Ryde, had not
sent in a peremptory 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 party. 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
278 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
fQupynent, and whither they were accompanied by the infant, who
tba been appointed travelling bridesmaid on Mr. Lillyvick's express
sdpulation : as the steam-boat people, deceived by her size, would
(he had previously 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 unexpected development of strong
symptoms of inebriety in the conduct of Mrs. 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 — perhaps from old recollections
■ — he had acquired with great aptitude.
' 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 agam, 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 ? " '
' " 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 began 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 they 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.
/ 7
AFTER A NIGHT'S DEBAUCH 2^9
Never had master a more anxious, humble, docile pupil. Never
had pupil a more patient, unwearying, 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 favour, 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 recHning listlessly on a
couple of sofas, with a table between them, on which were scattered
in rich confusion the materials of an untasted breakfast. News-
papers lay strewn about the room, but these, like the meal, were
neglected and unnoticed ; not, however, because any flow of con-
versation 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 ex-
clamation of impatience, and seemed for the moment to communi-
cate a new restlessness to his companion.
These appearances 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 had 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 being grasped more surely
in its capacity of an offensive 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
i^b Nicholas niCkle6V
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 lie 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.
'What the devil's the matter?' groaned Sir Mulberry, sitting
upright on the couch.
Although Sir Mulberry said this with sufficient ill-humour, he
did not seem to feel himself quite at liberty to remain silent ; for,
after stretching himself very often, and declaring with a shiver that
it was ' infernal cold,' he made an experiment at the breakfast-
table, and proving more successful in it than his less-seasoned
friend, remained there.
' Suppose,' said Sir Mulberry, pausing with a morsel on the
point of his 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 Frederick.
' So I did,' rejoined his friend ; ' but I have thought further of
the matter since then. You distrust me in the business — 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, deyvlish, downright, thorough-
paced friend,' said the young lord, on whom this speech had pro-
duced a most reviving effect.
A Congenial subject 281
' I'll tell you how,' said Sir Mulberry. ' She was at that dinner
as a bait for you.'
' No ! ' cried the young lord. ' What the dey '
' As a bait for you,' repeated his friend ; ' old Nickleby told me
so himself.'
' What 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 mani-
festmg an indifference, whether he felt it or not ; ' 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-age ! '
'I didn't know it, in the first place,' answered Sir Mulberry
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, however, with whom he had held no com-
munication since their angry parting on that occasion, all his efforts
were wholly unavailing, and he had therefore arrived at the deter-
mination of communicating to the young lord the substance of the
admission he had gleaned from that worthy. To this he was
impelled by various considerations ; among which the certainty
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 extorted from Ralph Nickleby his real design in
282 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
introducing his niece to such society, coupled with his extreme
disinterestedness in communicating it so freely to his friend, could
not but advance his interests in that quarter, and greatly facilitate
the passage of coin (pretty frequent and speedy already) from the
pockets of Lord Frederick Verisopht to those of Sir Mulberry
Hawk.
Thus reasoned Sir Mulberry, and in pursuance of this reasoning
he and his friend soon afterward 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 Mul-
berry, who bestowed upon it no other acknowledgment than a
careless smile.
They had a short conference upon some money matters then in
progress, which was scarcely disposed of when the lordly dupe (in
pursuance of his friend's instructions) requested with some embar-
rassment 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 communication 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,' repUed 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 accom-
panied. But Lord Frederick Verisopht was both, and took them to
be complimentary.
' 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.
RALPH NICKLEBY BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL 283
' 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, looking 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 mustn't think at all. A\'here
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 fortune 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 reluc-
tance, ' 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 address
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, doubtiess, 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.'
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.
284 NICHOLAS NICKLEbY
' 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, accompUshed 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 sneer upon his face all the while, Ralph busied himself in
showing his visitors down stairs, and otherwise than by the shghtest
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 such an accomplished and
most consummate scoundrel.
There had been a ring at the bell a few moments 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 requested him or her to stand
aside while 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 established custom of Ralph's mansion in business
hours, and looking towards the respectable trio who were approach-
ing, 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 without delay.
' Nobody you 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 happiness of meet-"
ing in this house the very last time I dined here ! But no ; ' said
Sir Mulberry, stopping short. ' No, it can't be. There is the same
cast of features, the same indescribable air of — But no, no. This
lady is too young for that.'
' I think you can tell the gentleman, brother-in-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.
MRS. NICKLEBY ON HACKNEY-COACHES 285
' 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 almost 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 hackney-coach,' said Mrs. Nickleby re-
flecting, ' though I'm 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 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 Com Laws could be nothing to
that act of Parliament.'
Having pretty well run herself out by this time, Mrs. Nickleby
stopped as suddenly as she had started off, and repeated that Kate
was quite well. ' Indeed,' 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 1 ' 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.'
286 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 Lombard 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 bye, at once.'
' Not stop and — rest ? ' said Ralph, who seldom offered refresh-
ments 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 ? '
' By all means. Ye-es.'
' Oh ! I really couldn't think of it ! ' said Mrs. Nickleby.
But Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick were peremptory
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 ecstacy of satisfaction, no less with the
attentions shown her by two titled gentlemen, than with the con-
viction 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 perfections of Miss Nickleby.
' What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this amiable
creature must be to you,' said Sir Mulberry, throwing into his voice
an indication of the warmest feeling.
' She is indeed, sir,' repUed Mrs. Nickleby ; ' she is tlie sweetest-
tempered, kindest-hearted creature — and so clever ! '
A GALLANT ESCORT 287
' 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 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 themselves,'
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 gratify-
ing.'
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, ' com-
pletely off,' and kissed their straw-coloured 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 ; ' that,' she thought, ' argues that she is strongly
prepossessed in favour 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 Mulberry. 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 predic-
tions, 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 brig;htness of a mother's
fancy all the beauty and grace of the poor girl who had struggled
288 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
so cheerfully 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 ordinary acceptation of those
terms — any one of God's creatures, would be the wildest fiction.
Still, there had somehow stolen upon him from time to time a thought
of his niece which was tinged with 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 sickly ray at the best of times —
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 girl— throwing her in the way of temptation, and insult, and
coarse speech. Nearly two thousand pounds profit from him
already though. Pshaw ! match-making mothers do the 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 Ralph, aloud, as he locked his iron safe. ' 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 thitlier.
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 LlandaflF, 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.'
CASTLES IN THE AIR 289
Having despatched the ceremony, with its attendant festivities,
to the perfect satisfaction of her own mind, the sanguine mother
pictured to her imagination a long train of honors and distinctions
which 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 birth-day, which was upon the nineteenth of
July ('at ten minutes past three o'clock in the morning,' thought
Mrs. Nickleby in a parenthesis, ' for I recollect asking what o'clock
it was,') Sir Mulberry 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 comprehensive design than its
fellows, might even contain a portrait of the mother of Lady
Mulberry Hawk, with hnes by the father of Sir Dingleby Dabber.
More unlikely things had come to pass. Less interesting portraits
had appeared. As this thought occurred to the good lady, her
countenance unconsciously assumed that compound expression of
simpering and sleepiness which, being common to all such portraits,
is perhaps one reason why they are always so charrning and
agreeable.
With such triumphs of aerial architecture did Mrs. Nickleby
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, stili 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 gentlemen 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 drinking; 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 1 ' said one gentleman, laying great stress on
the last word of the inquiry,
290 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'■How 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.
' You 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 formality,' said
Mr. Pluck — ' whether I shall say myself that my name is Pluck, or
whether I shall ask my friend Pyke (who being now regularly
introduced, is competent to the office) to state for me, Mrs. Nickle'by,
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 intro-
duction 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 refresh-
ing 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.'
^ My good opinion,' said Mrs. Nickleby, and the poor lady
exulted in the idea that she was marvellously 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 Mulberrj', is the good opinion of
Mrs. Nickleby ? '
' Of what consequence ? ' echoed Pyke.
' Aye,' repeated Pluck ; ' is it of the greatest consequence ?
A REMEDY FOR A COLD 291
' 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 herself. ' Such
delicacy as that, I never saw ! '
Mr. Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great embarrass-
ment for some minutes, resumed the conversation by entreating
Mrs. Nickleby to take no heed of what he had inadvertently said—
to consider him imprudent, rash, injudicious. The only stipulation
he would make in his own favour was, that she should give him
credit for the best intentions.
' But when,' said Mr. Pluck, ' when I see so much sweetness and
beauty on the one hand, and so much ardour 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 Mulberry 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. Nickleby, 'I think it was in the year eighteen
hundred and seventeen ; 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 thought I 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. 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 extraordinary 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
September.'
' 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.
292 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' But come,' said Pyke, as if suddenly recollecting himself; '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
definitive proposal of marriage for Kate at once presented itself in
lively colours.
' 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,' remon-
strated Mr. Pluck ; ' not such a word in the vocabulary. Your
brother-in-law joins us. Lord Frederick joins us, Sir Mulberry joins
us, Pyke joins us — a. refusal is out of the question. Sir Mulberry
sends a carriage for you — twenty minutes before seven to the
moment — -you'll not be so cruel as to disappoint the whole party,
Mrs. 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 excellent gentleman, lower-
ing 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 warlike Pyke,
who had walked to the window ; and Mr. Pluck, squeezing her hand,
went on :
'Your daughter has made a conquest — a conquest on which I
may congratulate you. Sir Mulberry, my dear ma'am, Sir Mulberry
is her devoted slave. Hem ! '
' Hah 1 ' cried Mr. Pyke, at this juncture, snatching something
from the chimney-piece with a theatrical air. ' What is this ! what
do I behold!'
' What do you behold, my dear fellow ? ' asked Mr. Pluck.
' It is the face, the countenance, the expression,' cried Mr. Pyke, fall-
ing into his chair with a miniature in his hand ; ' feebly portrayed,
imperfectly caught, but still f/ie face, f/ie countenance, (Ae expression.'
ENTHUSIASM OVER KATE'S PORTRAIT 293
' I recognise 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 I.a 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 congratulated 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. Nickleby, who
had listened in a state of enviable complacency at first, became at
length quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for, and attach-
ment to, the family ; and even the servant-girl, who had peeped in
at the door, remained rooted to the spot in astonishment at the
ecstacies of the two friendly visitors.
By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs. Nickleby went on
to entertain her guests with a lament over her fallen fortunes, and a
picturesque account of her old house in the country : comprising a
full description of the different apartments, not forgetting 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 parlour-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, instantly
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, positively 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 divided admiration
of the condescension of the two, and the aptitude with which they
accommodated themselves to the pewter-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, unchanged ! ' This by
294 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
the way was a very remarkable circumstance, miniatures being liable
to so many changes of expression. ' Oh, Pluck ! Pluck ! '
Mr. Pluck made no other reply than kissing Mrs. Nickleb/s hand
with a great show of feeling and attachment ; Mr. Pyke having done
the same, both gentlemen hastily withdrew.
Mrs. Nickleby was commonly in the habit of giving herself credit
for a pretty tolerable share of penetration and acuteness, 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
Mulberry's name — and yet hadn't she said to herself from the very
first, that she saw how the case stood ? and what a triumph it was,
for there was now no doubt about it. If these flattering attentions
to herself were not sufficient proofs. Sir Mulberry's confidential
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 Mulberry's station for us to make a
companion of. Poor thing ! ' Acting upon this grave considera-
tion she rejected the idea of taking the little portrait-painter into
her confidence, and contented 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 bangmg 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
Yye/^ofuUe Mtm^iip^i/i' c^.yMea^
J
MRS. NICKLEBY IN SOCIAL REQUEST 295
any previous acquaintance with the etymology of the word that
smifligation 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
smifligation, and they reached their box with no more serious inter-
ruption 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 un-
steady 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 Mulberry, 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,'
rephed Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking prodigiously
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.'
' I am sure you can't be selfish. Sir Mulberry,' 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 Mulberry,'
replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left 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 companions ; ' 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 ; upon
296 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 converse 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 Mulberry, 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 mama, thrusting her
head round the curtain. ' Why actually — Kate, my dear, Kate.'
' You here, mama ! Is it possible ! '
' Possible, my dear ? Yes.'
' Why who — who on earth is that you have with you, mama ? '
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, bend-
ing 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
J- great, and moreover brought back so forcibly the recollection 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 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
acquaijitance, lost no time in signing to Mr. Wititterly to open the
INTRODUCED TO MRS. WITITTERLY 297
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.
Pyke and Pluck to get in their heads and waistcoats.
' My dear Kate,' said Mrs. Nickleby, kissing her daughter affec-
tionately. ' How ill you looked a moment ago ! You quite
frightened me, I declare ! '
' It was a mere fancy, mama — 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, remembering 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 Verisopht, and then the greeting of Mr. Pyke, and then
that of Mr. Pluck, and finally, to complete the young lady's mortifica-
tion, 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 opportunity of
contracting an acquaintance which, I trust, my lord, we shall
improve. Julia, my dear, you must not allow yourself to be too
much excited, you must not. Indeed you must not. Mrs. Witit-
terly is of a most excitable nature. Sir Mulberry. The snuff of a
candle, the wick of a lamp, the bloom on a peach, the down on
a butterfly. You might blow her away, my lord ; you might blow
her away.'
Sir Mulberry seemed to think that it would be a great convenience
if the lady could be blown away. He said, however, that the
delight was mutual, and Lord Frederick added that it was mutual,
whereupon Messrs. Pyke 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 delicious creature.'
' Ye — es ! ' replied Lord Frederick. ' He was a clayver man.'
298 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'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 deceiving
his lordship — unintentionally, my lord, she is deceiving you. It
is your poetical temperament, my dear — your 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 post-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 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 I 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 anecdote 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,
SIR MULBERRY HAWK IS PERSISTENT 299
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 in 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 opportunity 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. Wititterly, he was sufficiently
busy in the body of the house, informing 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 gay Sir Mulberry Hawk — a communication which
inflamed several respectable housekeepers 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 yet to be
handed down stairs by the detested Sir Mulberry ; and so skilfully
were the manoeuvres of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck 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 Mulberry, 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 displeasure ? '
' SAow I ' 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 disgust and aversion,
you — let me rejoin my friends, sir, instantly. Whatever considera-
tions 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 proceed.'
Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and retaining
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.'
300 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 were waiting she
never knew, but she hurried across it without at all regarding them,
and disengaged herself suddenly from her companion, sprang
into the coach, and throwing herself into its darkest corner burst
into tears.
Messrs. Pyke 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 bystanders ; in
the midst of which tumult they put the affrighted Mrs. Nickleby
in her chariot, and having got her safely off, turned their thoughts
to Mrs. Wititterly, 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,' repHed 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 / 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 I
do this for every man ? Don't I deserve even gratitude in return ? '
' You're a deyvUsh good fellow,' said the poor young lord, taking
THE MORNING'S REFLECTIONS 30X
his friend's arm. ' Upon my life, you're a deyvlish good fellow,
Hawk.'
' And I have done right, have I ? ' demanded Sir Mulberry.
' Quite ri-ght.'
' 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 Mulberry, ' I'm satisfied. And now let's
go and have our revenge on the German baron and the French-
man, who cleaned you out so handsomely last night.'
With these words the friendly creature took his companion's arm
and led him away : turning half round as he did so, and bestowing
a wink and a contemptuous smile on Messrs. Pyke 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 XXVIII
MISS NICKLEBY, RENDERED DESPERATE BY THE PERSECUTION OF
SIR MULBERRY HAWK, AND THE COMPLICATED DIFFICULTIES
AND DISTRESSES WHICH SURROUND HER, APPEALS, AS A LAST
RESOURCE, TO HER UNCLE FOR PROTECTION
The ensuing morning brought reflection with it, as morning usually
does ; but widely different was the train of thought it awakened in
the different persons who had been so unexpectedly brought
together on the preceding evening, by the active agency of Messrs.
Pyke and Pluck.
The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk — if such a term can be
applied to the thoughts of the systematic and calculating man of
dissipation, whose joys, regrets, pains, and pleasures, 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 handsome ; that her coyness musi be easily conquer-
able 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
consideration — no mean or secondary one with Sir Mulberry —
should sound strangely in the ears of some, let it be remembered
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
302 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Mulberry's world was peopled with profligates, 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 httle world that such things take place at all, and strike the
great world dumb with amazement.
The reflections of Mrs. Nickleby were of the proudest and most
complacent kind ; under the influence of her very agreeable delu-
sion 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 mankind. The good lady then, with the pre-
liminary observation that she might be fairly supposed not to have
lived in the w'orld so long without knowing its ways, communicated
a great many subtle precepts 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 ardour. ' And I never,' added
Mrs. Nickleby, ' was more delighted in my life than to observe last
night, my dear, that your good sense had already told you this.'
With which sentiment, and various hints of the pleasure she derived
from the knowledge that her daughter inherited so large an instal-
ment of her own excellent sense and discretion (to nearly the full
measure of which 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 very
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 necessity of rendering 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,
regaled himself with the conversation of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck,
THE PURE SILVER-FORK SCHOOL 303
who sharpened their wit by a plentiful indulgence in various 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 a new
novel in three volumes, entitled 'The Lady Flabella,' which Alphonse
the doubtful had procured from the library that very morning. And
it was a production admirably suited to a lady labouring under
Mrs. Wititterly's complaint, seeing that there was not a line in it,
from beginning to end, which could, by the most remote contin-
gency, 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 herself and the youthful
Colonel BefiUaire, in the Duke of Mincefenille's salon de danse on
the previous night. " Cherizette, ma chhre, donnez-moi de I'eati-de-
Cologne, s'il voiis plait, mon enfant^
' " Merci — thank you," said the Lady Flabella, as the lively but
devoted Cherizette, plentifully besprinkled with the fragrant com-
pound the Lady FlabeUa's mouchoir of finest cambric, edged with
richest lace, and emblazoned at the four corners with the Flabella
crest, and gorgeous heraldic bearings of that noble family ; " Merci
—that will do."
' At this instant, while the Lady Flabella yet inhaled that delicious
fragrance by holding the mouchoir to her exquisite, but thought-
fully-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 bos de soie — sUk stockings — who, while
they remained at some distance making the most graceful obeisances,
advanced to the feet of his lovely mistress, and dropping on one
knee presented, on a golden salver gorgeously chased, a scented
billet.
' The Lady Flabella, with an agitation she could not repress,
hastily tore off the envelope and broke the scented seal. It was
from BefiUaire — the young, the slim, the low-voiced — her own
BefiUaire.'
' Oh, charming ! ' interrupted Kate's patroness, who was some-
times taken literary ; ' Poetic, really. Read that description again,
Miss Nickleby.'
Kate complied.
' Sweet, indeed ! ' said Mrs. Wititterly, with a sigh. ' So volup-
tuous, is it not ? So soft ? '
' Yes, I think it is,' replied Kate, gently ; ' very soft.'
304 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Close the book, Miss Nickleby,' said Mrs. Wititterly. ' I can
hear nothing more to-day. I should be sorry to disturb the impression
of that sweet description. Close the book.'
Kate compUed, not unwilhngly ; 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 companion. A steam-
engine, or other ingenious piece of mechanism out of order, wouj 1
have been nothing to it.
' How did you come to know Lord Frederick, and those other
delightful creatures, child ? ' asked Mrs. Wititterly, still eyeing Kate
through her glass.
' I met them at my uncle's,' said Kate, vexed to feel that she was
colouring 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 glad of 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 (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 tremendous
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 hurrying away.
'Miss Nickleby!' cried Mrs. Wititterly, perfectly aghast at a
companion's attempting to quit the room, without her permission
first had been 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
MRS. WITITTERLY'S VISITORS 303
footsteps of the knockers, whoever they were, were already on the
stairs. She resumed her seat, and had scarcely done so, when the
doubtful page darted into the room and announced, 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 extra-
ordinary thing. As Lord Frederick and Sir Mulberry 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 Mulberry 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 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, de)rvlish ! ' 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 coun-
tenance 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 did 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.
go6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' \Vell, Pluck,' said Pyke.
' Is there anybody,' demanded Mr. Pluck, mysteriously, ' any-
body 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 famtest 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.
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
grovelling people for twenty years, and never heard of it. How
could she, indeed ? what did iAey 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 obliged to make some reply. Meanwhile, Lord
Frederick enjoyed unmolested the full flavour of the gold knob at
the top of his cane, as he would have done to the end of the inter-
view if Mr. Wititterly had not come home, and caused the conver-
sation to turn to his favourite topic.
' My lord,' said Mr. Wititterly, ' I am delighted — honored —
proud. Be seated again, my lord, pray, I am proud, indeed;
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 lassitude, a debility.
My lord, if Sir Tumley Snuffim was to see that delicate creature at
this moment, he would not give a — a — (Ms for her life.' In illus-
tration 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.
AN INTERESTING MARTYR 307
'" Not tliat^ 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 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 Snuflfim's
favourite patient. I beUeve I 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 I 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 indefatigable Mr,
Pyke threw himself into the breach, and, by way of saying some-
thing to the point, inquired — with reference to the aforesaid medicine
— whether it was nice ?
' No, sir, it was not. It had not even that recommendation,'
said Mr. W,
' Mrs. Wititterly is quite a martyr,' observed Pyke, with a com-
plimentary bow.
' I think I 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 pobleman, ' 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 Mulberry's look, and rose to
go. This brought Sir Mulberry himself and Lord Frederick on
their legs also. Many protestations of friendship, and expressions
anticipative of the pleasure which must inevitably flow from so happy
an acquaintance, 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, dined again on the next, and were con-
stantly to and fro on all — that they made parties to visit public
places, and met by accident at lounges — that upon all these occa-
sions Miss Nickleby was exposed to the constant and unremitting
3o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
persecution of Sir Mulberry Hawk, who now began to feel his
character, even in the estimation of his two dependents, 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 auxiUaries, Pyke and
Pluck.
And thus for a fortnight matters went on. That any 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 ; coarse-
ness became humour, 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 fortune
to mix with high folks.
If the mistress put such a construction upon the behaviour of her
new friends, what could the companion urge against them ? 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 even this the worst. As the odious
Sir Mulberry Hawk attached himself 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 banish-
ment 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 consequence 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. Wititterly's ill-humours
and caprices when they were gone. She became utterly and com-
pletely miserable.
Mrs. Wititterly had never 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, damied upon that lady's
THE YOUNG PERSON IS PUT DOWN 369
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 society,
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. Wititterly, ' 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, with some appearance of excitement, that she feared that
palpitation of the heart was coming on again.
' Your behaviour, 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. Miss Nickleby, you
will not, if you go on as you do.'
' Ma'am ! ' exclaimed Kate, proudly.
' Don't agitate me by speaking in that way. 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 look-
ing at me in that way. Miss Nickleby, will prevent my saying what
I am going to say, which I feel to be a rehgious 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 j nor am I Mr. Pyke, nor Mr. Pluck
either.'
Kate looked at her again, but less steadily than before ; and rest-
ing 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 believed it.'
' I don't think they would,' murmured Kate. ' I do not think
anybody would believe, without actually knowing it, what I seemed
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
Nickleby. 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 /tf/- 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
310 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 respectable old female, your mother.
For these reasons, Miss Nickleby, I must tell you once for all, and
begging you to mind what I say, that I must insist upon your
immediately altering your very forward behaviour to the gentlemen
who visit at this house. It really is not becoming,' said Mrs.
Wititterly, closing her chaste eyes as she spoke j 'it is improper,
quite improper.'
' Oh ! ' cried Kate, looking upwards and clasping her hands j ' 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 have sunk in my own estimation 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 any one 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 have avoided seeing, that these libertines, in their
utter disrespect for you, and utter disregard of all gentlemanly
behaviour, and almost of decency, have had but one object in
introducing themselves here, and that the furtherance of their
designs upon 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 exemplary 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
KATE REPAIRS TO HER UNCLE .311
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 per-
petual cries for Sir Tumley Snuffim, and never once leaving off to
ask for any explanation of the scene before him.
' Run for Sir Tumley,' cried Mr. Wititterly, menacing the page
with 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. Wititterly 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 the special interposition of a merciful
Providence (thus spake Sir Tumley), Mrs. Wititterly had gone to
sleep. She then hastily attired herself for walking, and leaving
word that she should return within a couple of hours, hurried away
towards her uncle's house.
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 pro-
ceeding 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 ? ' asked Ralph.
' I do not know,' rejoined Newman. ' Shall I ask ? ' he added
quickly.
' No,' replied Ralph. ' Show her in 1 Stay.' He hastily put
312 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 something
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 face was
hidden from his view, but Ralph could see that she was weeping.
' I can guess the cause of this ! ' thought Ralph, after looking
at her for some time in silence. ' I can — I can — guess the cause.
Well ! 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
niore 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 knowledge 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 speaking, 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
KATE APPEALS FOR HELP 313
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, / will not, 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,' replied
Kate, colouring deeply. ' Uncle, you must — I am sure you will —
release me from such vile and degrading companionship 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 can I — how can I undeceive her — when
she is so happy in these little delusions, which are the only happi-
ness 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 / assist you, child ? ' said Ralph, rising from his chair,
and pacing up and down the roqm 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 can't say
it, 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 himself
alternately on his toes and heels, and looking coolly in his niece's
face, ' in business, and I can't afford to offend them. What is it after
314 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
all ? We have all our trials, and this is one of yours. Some girls
would be proud to have such gallants at their feet.'
' Proud ! ' cried Kate.
' I don't say,' rejoined Ralph, raising his, fore-finger, ' but that
you do right to despise them j 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 footsteps, and whisper
his drivelling inanities in your ears, what of it ? It's a dis-
honorable passion. So be it; it won't last long. Some other
novelty will spring up one day, and you will be released. In the
mean time '
' In the mean time,' 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 feeling, and
despised by all honest and honorable men; sunken in my own
esteem, and degraded in 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 labour. Do not mistake me. I will not disgrace your
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 quarters, almost occasioned her to call aloud. But, New-
man laying his finger upon his lips, she had the presence of mind
to refrain.
' Don't,' said Newman, gliding out of his recess, and accompany-
ing her across the hall. ' Don't cry, 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 eyes with it,
as gently as if she were an infant. ' You're giving way now. Yes,
yes, very good ; that's right, I like 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
IMAGINATIVE EXERCISE 315
soon. Ha ! ha ! ha ! And so shall somebody else too. Yes, yes.
Ho ! ho ! '
' God bless you,' answered Kate, hurrying 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 cheer-
fully, and laugh — and shut it, to shake his head mournfully, 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 noted
down, but not solved; — although Ralph felt no remorse at that
moment for his conduct towards the innocent, true-hearted girl;
although his libertine clients had done precisely what he had
expected, precisely what he most wished, and precisely what would
tend most to his advantage, still he hated them for doing it, from
the very bottom of his soul.
' Ugh ! ' said Ralph, scowling round, and shaking his clenched
hand as the faces of the two profligates rose up before 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 ofRce-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 precaution
in a man of sedentary habits, with the view of opening the chest
and strengthening the muscles of the arms. But the intense eager-
ness 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 persevering manner; would have sufficiently
explained to the attentive observer, that his imagination was thresh-
ing to within an inch of his Ufe, his body's most active employer,
Mr. Ralph Nickleby.
3i6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XXIX
OF THE PROCEEDINGS OF NICHOLAS, AND CERTAIN INTERNAL
DIVISIONS IN THE COMPANY OF MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES
The unexpected success and favour with which his experiment at
Portsmouth had been received, induced Mr. Crummies 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 very promising speculation. Nicholas assenting to the terms
proposed, the benefit was had, and by it he realised 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 gratitude and esteem, and
many cordial wishes for his matrimonial happiness. To Newman
Noggs he forwarded one half of the sum he had realised, entreating
him to take an opportunity of handing it to Kate in secret, and
conveying to her the warmest assurances of his love and affection.
He made no mention of the way in which he had employed himself;
merely informing 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 particulars of
the situation of his mother and sister, and an 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 I ! ' rejoined Nicholas, with assumed gaiety, for the con-
fession would have made the boy miserable all night ; ' I was
thinking about my sister, Smike.'
' Sister ! '
'Aye.'
' 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.
NICHOLAS'S ENEMY 317
' 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 story,' 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 muttered it over to himself some twenty times, when a
loud knock at the door disturbed him from his occupation. 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 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 flaming red worsted comforter, whereof
the straggling 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
3i8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 steadily fixed upon the ceiling.
It was directed to blank Johnson, Esq., by favour of Augustus
Folair, Esq. ; and the astonishment of Nicholas was in no degree
lessened, when he found it to be couched in the following laconic
terms : — ■
' 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 nights
Indignant as he was at this impertinence, there was something 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 sufficient 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 shghtest 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 ceiling.
' 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 imper-
turbable dignity, briefly replied ' No.'
' Then,' said Nicholas, taking up the tall hat and tossmg it towards
the door, ' you had better follow that article of your <£:ess, sir, or
you may find yourself very disagreeably deceived, and that within
a dozen seconds.'
' I say, Johnson,' remonstrated Mr. Folair, suddenly losing all his
dignity, ' none of that, you know. No tricks with a gentleman's
wardrobe.'
MR. FOLAIR EXPLAINS 319
' Leave the room,' returned Nicholas. ' How could you presume
to come here on such an errand, you scoundrel ? '
' Pooh ! pooh ! ' said Mr. Folair, imwinding his comforter, and
gradually getting himself out of it. ' There — that's enough.'
' Enough ! ' cried Nicholas, advancing towards him. ' Take your-
self 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 pulling 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 him,
which, at all times more calculated to provoke mirth than anger,
was especially so at that moment, when with 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 himself down
in a chair with great coolness. ' Since you came here Lenville has
done nothing but second business, and, instead of having a reception
every night as he used to have, they have let him corne on as if he
was nobody.'
' What do you mean by a reception ? ' asked Nicholas.
' Jupiter ! ' exclaimed Mr. Folair, ' what an unsophisticated
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 desperate, 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 professional
reputation being at stake,' said Mr. Folair, quite seriously. ' But
his heart failed him, and he cast about for some other way of annoy-
ing you, and making himself popular at the same time- — for that's
the point. Notoriety, notoriety, is the thing. Bless you, if he had
pinked you,' said Mr. Folair, stopping to make a calculation in his
mind, ' it would have been worth — ah, it would have been worth
eight or ten shillings a week to him. All the town would have
320 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 abput as you — don't you see ? '
' Oh certainly,' rejoined Nicholas ; ' but suppose I were to turn the
tables, and pull his nose, what then ? Would that make his fortune ?'
' Why, I don't think it would,' replied Mr. Folair, scratching his
head, 'because there wouldn't be any romance about it, and he
wouldn't be favourably 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, however, he has a way of getting out of
it easily, depend upon that.'
' Has he ? ' rejoined Nicholas. ' We will try to-morrow morning.
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 had 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 received. 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 exceedingly good part,
walked away to confer with his principal, and give 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 with much
deliberation down to the theatre next morning at the usual hour, he
found all the company assembled in evident expectation, and Mr.
Lenville, with his severest stage face, sitting majestically on a table,
whistling defiance.
Now the ladies were on the side of Nicholas, and the gentlemen
(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 little distance in some
trepidation and anxiety. On Nicholas stopping to salute them, Mr.
Lenville laughed a scornful laugh, and made some general remark
touching the natural history of puppies.
THE PULLING OF NICHOLAS'S NOSE 321
' Oh ! ' said Nicholas, looking quietly round, ' are you there ? '
' Slave ! ' returned Mr. Lenville, flourishing his right arm, and
approaching Nicholas with a theatrical stride. But somehow he
appeared just at that moment a little startied, 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 assembled ladies burst into a shrill
laugh.
' Object of my scorn and hatred ! ' said Mr. Lenville, ' I hold ye
in contempt.'
Nicholas laughed in very unexpected enjoyment of this per-
formance ; 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.'
' But 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
everybody 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-dramatic perform-
ances, he was in the habit of regarding the tyrannical 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 the fetters or not, it made no very
deep impression on Mr. Lenville's adversary, however, but rather
seemed to increase the good humour 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 im-
patient, 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 tragedia,n adjusted the cuif of his right coat sleeve for the per-
formance of the operation, and walked in a very stately manner up
to Nicholas, who suffered him to approach to within the requisite
distance, 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 thisi' cried Mr.
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
Y
32 2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
insolent note you wrote to me last night, and waste no more time
in talking.'
' Never ! ' 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 another time; and be careful, also,
before you v-enture 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 properly, who was a most unbearable
fellow, and on whom they had all, by a remarkable coincidence, at
one time or other contemplated the infliction of condign punishment,
which they had only been restrained from administering by con-
siderations 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 humour.
The crest-fallen Mr. Lenville made an expiring effort to obtain
revenge by sending a boy into the gallery to 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-office.'
' 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.'
By dint of poring over the letter for half an hour, he contrived
1^ a/'^ne'Jiy'/cViz/^i/?^ e.
?^-^
f/me, £>o?)tJu,
..J
AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT 323
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 to 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 necessary, Newman would have spoken out
and told him so at once.
' At all events I should prepare them here for the possibility 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 ! ' cried Mr.*!. Crummies, raising her hands in astonish-
ment.
' Closed ! ' cried Miss Snevellicci, trembling so much in 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 Bravassa
actually shed tears. Even the male performers 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 favoured 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, although he
could not yet speak with any degree of certainty j and getting away
32/4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
as soon as he could, went home to con Newman'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 SUDDENLY
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 consternation ; and, in
the extremity of his despair, even held out certain vague promises
of a speedy improvement not only in the amount of his regular
salary, but also in the contingent emoluments appertaining to his
authorship. Finding Nicholas 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 ascertaining the exact position of his sister) Mr.
Crummies was fain to content himself by calculating the chances
of his coming 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. We'll have posters out the first
thing in the morning, announcing positively 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-engagement 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 very decent houses.'
'Then I am to make three last appearances, am I?' inquired
Nicholas, smiling.
LAST APPEARANCE 325
'Yes,' rejoined 'the manager, scratching his head with an air of
some vexation ; ' three is not enough, and it's very bungUng 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 Nicholas, drily.
' Eighteenpence would do it,' said Mr. Crummies. ' You on the
top of a pair of steps with the phenomenon in an attitude ; " Fare-
well " on a transparency behind ; and nine people at the wings with
a squib in each hand — all the dozen and a half going oflf at once —
it would be very grand — awful from the front, quite awful.'
As Nicholas appeared by no means impressed with the solemnity
of the proposed effect, but, on the contrary, received the proposi-
tion 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 execution,
the manager at once repaired to a small dressing-room, adjacent,
where Mrs. Crummies was then occupied in exchanging the habili-
ments 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 knowing 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 interlude, with one
skirt to his coat, and a little piocket handkerchief with a large hole
in it, and a woollen nightcap, and a red nose, and other distinctive
marks peculiar to tailors on the stage. ' Heigho ! I wish all this
were over.'
' Over, Mr. Johnson ! ' repeated a female voice behind him, in a
kind of plaintive surprise.
' If was an ungallant speech, certainly,' said Nicholas, looking up
to see who the speaker was, and recognising Miss Snevellicci. ' I
would not have made it if I had known you had been within hearing.'
' What a dear that Mr. Digby is ! ' said Miss Snevellicci, as the
tailor went off on the opposite side, at the end of the piece, with
great applause. (Smike's theatrical name was Digby.)
326 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' I'll tell him presently, for his gratification, that you said so,'
returned Nicholas.
' Oh you naughty thing ! ' rejoined Miss Snevellicci. ' 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 Snevellicci stopped, as though waiting to be questioned, but
no questioning came, for Nicholas was thinking about more serious
matters.
' How kind it is of you,' resumed Miss Snevellicci, after a short
silence, ' to sit waiting here 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 conversation.
' Nobody can ever get anything out of him.'
'What should they get out of him?' 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 anybody else,' said Nicholas.
' Ay,' rejoined the actor, contemplating the effect of his face in
a lamp reflector, ' but that involves the whole question, 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,' replied Mr. Folair,
delighted with the opportunity of saying somethiijg disagreeable.
'That's in everybody's mouth.'
' The " everybody " of the theatre, I suppose ? ' said Nicholas,
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
BEHIND THE SCENES 327
a regular 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 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 confidence, /don't
agree with him, you know. He says be takes Digby to be more
knave than fool ; and old Fluggers, who does the heavy business
you know, Ae 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 litde
imposition, I should like to — quite ready, my darling,— humbug-
Ring up, Mrs. G., and let the favourite 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.
' So these are some of the stories they invent about us, and
bandy from mouth to mouth ! ' thought Nicholas. ' If a man would
commit an inexpiable offence against any society, large or small, let
him be successful. They will forgive him any crime but that.'
' You 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 kind,'
returned Miss SnevelUcci. ' 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,
323 KICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' if you can't persuade him— ' Miss Ledrook said no nlore, 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 Snevellicci.
' Won't that induce you ? '
' Surely,' returned Nicholas, ' I can require no possible induce-
ment beyond your invitation.'
'Oh no ! I dare say,' rejoined Miss Snevellicci. Arid 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 colour 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 tUe-a-ike 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 carrying it herself, 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 on the
part of Miss Ledrook, and then both ladies vowed that they
wouldn't move a step further until Nicholas had promised 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 days — never.
Lightening the way with such pleasantry as this, they arrived 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,
MISS SNEVELLlCCrS PAPA 325
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 buttons tight across it ; and he no sooner saw
Nicholas come into the room, than he whipped the two fore fingers
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 some-
times in the chorus, at every theatre in London ; who was always
selected in virtue of his figure to play the military 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
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 Snevellicci's
papa (who was scented with rum and water) said that 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 Westminster 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 fAere.'
So saying, Miss Snevellicci's papa rubbed the tip of his nose with
330 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
a very yellow silk handkerchief, and gave the company to under-
stand that these recollections overcame him.
' Well, Mr. Lilly vick,' 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 collector, ' 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 purple 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 snuffers in the
centre, and baked potatoes wherever it was most convenient to put
them. Two additional chairs were brought in from the bedroom ;
Miss SneveUicci sat at the head of the table, and Mr. Lillyvick at
the foot ; and Nicholas had not only the honor of sitting next Miss
SneveUicci, but of having Miss Snevellicci's mama on his right hand,
and Miss Snevellicci'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 SneveUicci wept, and was compeUed to retire
into the bedroom.
' Hush ! Don't take any notice of it,' said Miss Ledrook, 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 mysterious
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
MISS SNEVELLICCrS PAPA ANGRY 331
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.
Snevellicci's importance as a man and a father, so he picked out
the unfortunate Mrs. SnevelUcci, 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.
' 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 comer. I've been mentioned
in the newspapers before now, haven't I ? Talk ! I'll tell you
what J if I found out that any man had been tampering with the
affections of my daughter, I wouldn't talk. I'd astonish him with-
out 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 glassful at a
draught. ' That's my way,' repeated Mr. Snevellicci.
Most public characters have their failings ; and the truth is that
Mr. Snevellicci was a little addicted to drinking; or, if the whole
truth must be told, that he was scarcely ever sober. He knew in
his cups three distinct stages of intoxication, — the dignified — the
quarrelsome — the amorous. When professionally 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
332 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
exhibited symptoms of pugnacity, and proposed ' The ladies ! BlesS
their hearts ! ' in a most vivacious manner.
' I love 'em,' said Mr. Snevellicci, looking round the table, ' 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. Lillyvick'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 obligations, what
did Mr. Snevellicci do ? He winked — winked, openly and
undisguisedly ; winked with his right eye — upon Henrietta Lilly-
vick !
The collector fell back in his chair in the intensity of his astonish-
ment. If anybody had winked at her as Henrietta Petowker, it
would have been indecorous in the last degree ; but as Mrs. Lilly-
vick ! While he thought of it in a cold perspiration, 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 consequently 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 collector 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 performed
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 IS PUT IN HIS PLACE 333
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
Jaw!'
' 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 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 fAey don't know, sir ? ' said Miss Snevellicci's
papa, pulling up his collar, and muttering something about a punch-
ing of heads, and being only withheld by considerations of age.
With which Miss Snevellicci's papa looked steadily and sternly at
Mr. Lillyvick for some seconds, and then rising deliberately
from his chair, kissed the Jadies 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 ; volunteering more than one
song of no inconsiderable length, and regaling the social circle
between-whiles with recollections of divers splendid women who had
been supposed to entertain 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 reminis-
cences 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 Ledrook, had no effect whatever in
increasing the attentions of Nicholas, who, with the precedent of
Miss Sqjieers still fresh in his memory, steadily resisted every fas-
cination, and placed so strict a guard upon his behaviour that when
334 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
he had taken his leave the ladies were unanimous in pronouncing
him quite a monster of insensibility.
Next day the posters appeared in due course, and the public were
informed, in all the colours of the rainbow, and in 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 application for places was requested,
in consequence of the extraordinary overflow attendant on his per*
formances. It being a remarkable fact in theatrical history, but
one long since established beyond dispute, that it is a hopeless
endeavour to attract people to a theatre unless they 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 excitement 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, imless 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 liis 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
farthing.
When everybody was dressed and the curtain went up, the ex-
citement 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 expecta-
tion. 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 little private boxes over the stage-doors,
and from that position reconnoitered the London manager. Once
the London manager was seen to smile. He smiled at the comic
THE LONDON MANAGER 335
countryman's pretending to catch a blue-bottle, while Mrs. Crummies
was making her greatest effect. ' Very good, my fine fellow,' said
Mr. Crummies, shaking his fist at the comic countryman when he
came off, ' you leave tlus 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 manager. When Miss Bravassa sang her song at
her lover, who according to custom stood ready to shake hands
with her between the verses, thpy looked, not at each other but at
the London manager. Mr. Crummies 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 unhappy comic countryman, declaring
that his buffoonery 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 satisfaction 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 favour and unprecedented applause
— so said the bills for next day, which had been printed an hour
or two before — he took Smike's arm and walked home to bed.
With the post next morning came a letter from Newman N-oggs,
very inky, very short, very dirty, very small, and very mysterious,
urging Nicholas to return to London instantly; not to lose an
instant ; to be there at night if possible.
' I will,' said Nicholas. ' Heaven knows I have remained here
for the best, and sorely against my own will ; but even 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, tbat 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 extremity of his surprise.
336 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 that 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 rendered it necessary for
him to repair to London immediately.
' So good bye,' said Nicholas ; ' good bye, good bye.'
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, impatiently.
' 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 beeii fooling here ! '
Accompanying 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 wistfully
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 very useful to me. But he
don't know what's good for him. He is an impetuous youth.
Young men are rash, very rash.'
Mr. Crummies being in a moralising mood, might possibly have
moralised for some minutes longer if he had not mechanically put
his hand towards his waistcoat pocket, where 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 everything was soon ready for their departure. They
scarcely stopped to take a morsel of breakfast, and in less than
half an hour arrived at the coach-oflice : quite out of breath with
the haste they had made to reach it in time. There were yet a
GOOD-BYE TO MR. CRUMMLES 337
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 averring (and with considerable truth) that it was a most
uncommon 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 httle astonished
to find himself suddenly clutched in a close and violent embrace,
which nearly took him oif 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 manager'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 Hon-
hearted boy ! '
In fact, Mr. Crummies, who could never lose any opportunity
for professional display, had turned out for the express purpose of
taking a public farewell of Nicholas; and to render it the more
imposing, he was now, to that young gentleman's most profound
annoyance, inflicting upon him a rapid succession of stage embraces,
which, as everybody knows, are performed by the embracer's laying
his or her chin on the shoulder of the object of affection, and look-
ing over it. This Mr. Crummies did in the highest style of melo-
drama, 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 ofiicer, waiting
to convey the two victims to the scaifold.
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. Crviinmles as they rolled away.
338 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XXXI
OF RALPH NICKLEBY AND NEWMAN NOGGS, AND SOME WISE PRE-
CAUTIONS, 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 abstraction, 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 calculations, 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 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 the girl, or should if she had
been less proudly and squeamishly brought up. If the boy were
drowned or hanged, and the mother dead, this house should be her
home. I wish they were, with all my soul.'
Notwithstanding the deadly hatred which Ralph felt towards
Nicholas, and the bitter 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 herself ^ — ^ still there was,
strange though it may seem, something humanising and even gentle
in his thoughts at that moment. He 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 hundred silent tokens of feminine presence and occupa-
tion J he came back again to the cold fireside and the silent dreary
MASTER AND MAN 339
splendour ; and in that one glimpse of a better nature, born as it
was in selfish thoughts, the rich man felt himself friendless, child-
less, and alone. Gold, for the instant, lost its lustre in his eyes,
for there were countless treasures of the heart which it could
never purchase.
Avery slight circumstance was sufficient to banish such reflections
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 countenance 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 answered
the summons, and Ralph raised his eyes stealthily to 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 counte-
nance of Newman Noggs. If it be possible to imagine a man, with
two eyes in his head, and both wide open, looking in no direction ,
whatever, and seeing nothing, Newman appeared 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 offer to go if you know that ? '
'I thought you rang to say you didn't ring,' repUed Newman.
' You often do.'
' How dare you pry, and peer, and stare at me, sirrah ? ' demanded
Ralph.
' Stare ! ' cried Newman, ' at you 1 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 ? '
340 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Newman gave a dogged kind of nod to express an affirmative
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 adjusted his hat upon his head
with as much care, real or pretended, 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 caUing 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 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 prevailed, 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 favourable impression
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 inclination 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 now'. He glanced, as he
sp®ke, 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 1
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
Miss lA creevv' 54t
1 have beeri 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 peace-
fully and happily enough,' replied the miniature painter. ' I have
a brother, Mr. Noggs— the only relation I have — and all that time
I never saw him once. Not that we ever quarrelled, but he was
apprenticed down in the country, and he got married there, and
new ties and affections sprmging up about him, he forgot a poor
little woman like me, as it was very reasonable he should, you
know. Don't suppose that I complain about that, because I always
Said to myself, '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 sitting
down in that very chair, and crying 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 garden 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 worthy 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 hfe,' 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 foohsh 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
342 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 iii state. I thought
she would have come round again before this, but she hasn't
been here.'
' About Mis,» Nickleby — ' said Newman.
' Why, she was here twice while I was away,' returned Miss La
Creevy. ' I was afraid she mightn't like to have me calling 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 people 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, dashing 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 shak-
ing 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-parlour, 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 little thinks I
know ; he httle thinks I care. Cunning scoundrel ! 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 fury, Newman
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 domi 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, who had been
almost frightened out of her senses by this remarkable demonstra-
tion j but that done, Newman faithfully related all that had passed
MISS LA CREEVY'S COUNSEL 343
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 forming 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 dP violence and
intensity. Indeed if Ralph Nickleby had happened 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 exchanged 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 Newman.
' 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 ofif rubbing his hands, and assumed a thoughtful
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 countenance
falling more and more. ' I came to ask you to receive his sister in
case he brought her here, but '
' But this is a matter of much greater importance,' interrupted
Miss La Creevy ; ' that you might have been sure of before you
came, but the end of this, nobody can foresee, 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 hearing
344 NICHOLAS NIClCLEBV
this, and instantly set about extorting a solemn pledge from
Newman that he would use his utmost endeavours to pacify the
wrath of Nicholas ; which, after some demur, was conceded. They
then consulted together on the safest and surest mode of commu-
nicating to him the circumstances which had rendered his presence
necessary.
' He must have time to cool before he can possibly do anything,'
said Miss La Creevy. ' That is of the greatest consequence. 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. New-
man, 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.
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 coach-
man, 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 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 musf have been most uncommon
Entering London 34S
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 rattled on through the noisy, bustling, crowded streets of
London, now displaying long double rows of brightly-burning lamps,
dotted here and there with the chemists' glaring lights, and illumi-
nated besides with the brilliant flood that streamed from the windows
of the shops, where sparkling jewellery, silks and velvets of the
richest colours, the most inviting delicacies, and most sumptuous
articles of luxurious ornament, 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 hurrying
forward, scarcely seeming 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 ; tempting stores of every-
thing to stimulate and pamper the sated appetite and give new
relish to the oft-repealed 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,
cofBns for the dead, churchyards for the burred — all these jumbled
each with the other and flocking 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 figures stopped to gaze at Chinese shawls and
golden stuffs of India. There was a christening party at the largest
coffin-maker's, and a funeral hatchment had stopped some great
improvements in the bravest mansion. Life and death went hand
in hand; wealth and poverty stood side by side; repletion 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
346 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 neighbour.
' Ah, Mr. Johnson ! ' said Growl, presenting himself. ' Welcome,
sir. — How well you're looking ! I never could have believed '
'Pardon me,' interposed Nicholas. 'My question — I am ex-
tremely 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 un-
willing 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 inj case he
returned first.
As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook himself
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 Nickleby. 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 hojme. He wouldn't be, till twelve o'clock]
APPREHENSIONS OF NICHOLAS 347
there was no chance of it. Was there no possibility of sending to
fetch him if it were only for an instant, 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 felt 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 whplly unable to resist it. So, he took up his
hat and rambled out again.
He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets with
hurried footsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings and appre-
hensions 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 leaving his thoughts behind. 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 least a great deal more confused and perplexed than
he had gone into it.
He 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 looked 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 ornamented
with the choicest specimens of French paper, enriched 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 floor to ceiling,
multiplied the other beauties and added new ones of their own to
enhance the general effect. There was rather a noisy party of four
348 Nicholas nickleby
■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 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 two 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 counte-
nance of some indignation, 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 standing 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 anything 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 heeltaps,"
said the voice, ' we'll give her the first glass in the new magnum.
Little Kate Nickleby ! '
'i-^Tj a^^^laj:/jM m ffrr '/■//;>////V2l'/'A^^ J^t&U »M^m inme U-tj/Ar yfor:
/
'LITTLE KATE NICKLEBY' 349
' 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, Nicholas 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 before.
' She's a true Nickleby — a worthy imitator of her old uncle 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 doubly welcome, and the bargain doubly hard, for you're
impatient and he isn't. Oh ! infernal cunning.'
' Infernal cunning,' echoed two voices.
Nicholas was in a perfect agony as the two elderly gentlemen
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 anything 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 expense.
Nicholas turned burning hot with rage, but he commanded 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 charac-
ters and designs of those whose conversation he overheard; to
possess him with the full extent of Ralph's villainy, and the real
reason of his own presence being required 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.
The man who had spoken first, led the conversation and indeed
almost 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 bis
parched and scorching throat.
' Let me have a word with you, sir,' said Nicholas,
350 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'With me, sir?' retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him in
disdainful surprise.
' I said with you,' replied Nicholas, speaking with great diflSculty,
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 tossing 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, addressing his
companions, said — •
' 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
shallbe proclaimed so to the world. I will know you; I will
follow you home if you walk the streets till morning.'
Sir Mulberry's hand involuntarily closed upon the decanter, 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.
NICHOLAS'S CARD 351
Sir Mulberry laughed again, and the two voices which had always
spoken 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 Mulberry, 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, com-
promised 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 member 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 representations of his weak young friend,
and further seemed — as if to save himself from a repetition of them
—to insist on being left alone. However this might have been, the
young gentleman 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 condition 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 j 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 negli-
gently over his knees : finishing his magnum of claret with the
utmost coolness and indifference.
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
352 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
to the glass, and, having surveyed himself therein, turned round and
honored Nicholas with a long and contemptuous stare. Nicholas
stared again with right good-will; 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 Mulberry took several turns up and down the room, whisding
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.
' 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 mis-
taken,' said Nicholas. ' I will accompany you. By Heaven I will,
if I hang on to the foot-board ! '
' You shall be horsewhipped if you do,' returned Sir Mulberry.
' You are a villain,' said Nicholas.
'You are an errand-boy for aught I know,' said Sir Mulberry
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 Mul-
berry, 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 com-
mand 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, blipd
A FIERCE STRUGGLE 353
to all sense of clanger, 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 from the eye to the lip. He
saw the gash ; knew that the mare had darted off at a wild mad
gallopj 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 — looking 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. Rightly judging
that under such circumstances it would be madness to follow, he
turned down a bye-street in search of the nearest coach-stand, find-
ing 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 EXPE^
DITIOUS PROCESS, FROM ALL COMMERCE WITH HIS RELATIONS
Smike and Newman Noggs, who in his impatience had retunied
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 growing 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.
2 A
354 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 mto the
room. ' There is no harm done, beyond what a basin of water can
repair.'
' No harm ! ' cried Newman, passing his hands hastily over the
back and arms of Nicholas, as if to assure himself that he had
broken no bones. ' What have you been doing ? '
'I know all,' interrupted Nicholas; 'I have heard a part, and
guessed the rest. But before I remove one jot of these stains, I
must hear the whole from you. You see I am collected. My
resolution is taken. Now, my good friend, speak out ; for the time
for 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 stiflfhess
that will soon pass off,' said Nicholas, seating himself with some
difficulty. ' But if I had fractured every limb, and stiU 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 being rubbed with oil and vinegar, 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 New-
man ; 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.
This martyrdom over, Nicholas arranged with Newman that while
he was otherwise occupied next morning, arrangements should be
IN CADOGAN PLACE 355
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 in-
trusted to Newman next day), he endeavoured 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 injuries 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 veiy 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, em-
ployed in cleaning the door-steps. By this functionary he was
referred to the doubtful page, who appeared 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 Nickleby
was then taking her morning's walk in the gardens before the house-
On the question being propounded whether he could go and find
her, the page desponded and thought not; but being stimulated
with a shilling, the page grew sanguine 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 unusual to
them, and Nicholas paced the room in a state of feverish agitation
which made the delay even of a minute insupportable. 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.
' 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,
356 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Kate,' he cried, moved in spite of himself as he folded her to his
heart. ' Tell me that I acted for the best. Tell me that we parted
because I feared to bring misfortune on your head ; that it was a
trial to me no less than to yourself, and that if I did wrong it was
in ignorance of the world and unknowingly.'
' 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 under-
gone,' 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, before we drive away ? '
This question was most opportunely put, for at that instant Mr.
Wititterly walked in, and to him Kate introduced her brother, who
at once announced his purpose, and the impossibility 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 oflfered no opposition to Kate's imme-
diate departure ; with which, indeed, he was rather gratified than
otherwise. Sir Tumley Snuffim 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,
' I will — ' here he was interrupted by a violent fit of coughing — ' I
will — owe it to Miss 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 White-
chapel and to be in the habit of taking their breakfast 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 his mother, and when the
way had been paved, presented himself with much duty and affection.
A tlURRIED REMOVAL 557
^e\vthan had not been idle, for there was a little cart at the door,
and the effects were hurrying out already.
Now, Mrs. Nickleby was not the sort of person to be told any-
thing in a hurry, or rather to comprehend anything of peculiar
delicacy or importance on a short notice. Wherefore, although the
good lady had been subjected to a full hour's preparation by little
Miss La Creevy, and was now addressed in most lucid terms both
by Nicholas and his sister, she was in a state of singular bewilder-
ment 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 discovery 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 have 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.'
' Nor I, nor anybody else,' said Nicholas.
' I^ord bless my life ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby. ' To think that
that Sir Mulberry Hawk should be such an abandoned wretch as
Miss La Creevy says he is, Nicholas, my dear ; when I was con-
gratulating myself every day on his being 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 government place. There are very good places to
be got about the court, I know ; for a friend of ours (Miss 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 superin-
tend 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. Nickleby, with a
petulance not unnatural in her unhappy circumstances, ' it's very easy
358 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
to say cheer up, but if you had as many occasions to cheer up as 1
have had and there,' 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, advanc-
ing. '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 was 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 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 confined her attention to the coach until it was
too late to remember anything else.
Having seen everything safely out, discharged the servant, and
locked the door, Nicholas jumped into a cabriolet and drove to a
bye place near Golden Square where he had appointed 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. Have 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 indisposi-
tion he really felt, now that the excitement which had sustained him
was over, took a hurried farewell of Newman Noggs, and 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.
ABSTRACTION OF NOGGS 359
He reached the ofiSce, 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.
' 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 you.
' 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 heavily, 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.
Suddenly, he started from his seat, arid 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 tl^e worn and blackened
stump of an old pen, some figures in an Interest-table which was
pasted against the wall, and apparently 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 tinkle of which
is enough to throw a strong man into blue convulsions, upon my
360 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
life and soul, oh demmit,' said Mr. Mantalini to Newman Noggs,
scraping his boots, as he spoke, on Ralph Nickleby's scraper.
' I didn't hear the bell more than once,' replied Newman.
' Then you are most immensely and outrzgeously 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 cere-
mony, when Newman interposed his body ; and hinting that Mr.
Nickleby was unwilling to be disturbed, inquired 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/
tinkling, d-erhd mint sauce.'
Newman uttered a significant grunt, and taking Mr. Mantalini's
proifered card, limped with it into his master's office. 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 homy 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 ! '
' What 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,' interrupted 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 ? '
' Two,' returned Mr. Mantalini.
' What is the gross amount ? '
' Demd trifling. Five-and-seventy.'
■ And the dates ? '
' Two months, and four.'
IN THE DISCOUNT MARKET 361
'I'll do tiiem for you — mind, for you ; I wouldn't for many people
—for five-and-twenty pounds,' said Ralph, deliberately.
' Oh demmit ! ' cried Mr. Mantalini, whose face lengthened
considerably at this 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 extending
his hand for the bills. ' Well !' They are not sure, but they are
safe enough. Do you 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, arid Mr. Mantalini had not yet gathered
it all up, when a ring was heard at the bell, and immediately after-
wards Newman ushered in no less a person than Madame Mantalini,
at sight of whom Mr. Mantalini evinced c6nsiderable discomposure,
and swept the cash into his pocket with remarkable alacrity.
' Oh, you are here,' said Madame Mantalini, tossing her head.
' Yes, my life and soul, I am,' replied her husband, dropping 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.'
'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. Mantalini. ' It
knows it is not ashamed of its own popolorum tibby.'
Whatever 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 behaviour of Mr. Mantalini.'
' 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 profligacy of
362 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 yourselves.'
' No, but I must beg you as a favour,' said Madame Mantalini,
' to hear me give 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 call me, "Sir"!' cried Mantalini. 'Me who doat
upon her with the demdest ardour ! She, who coils her fascinations
round me IDce a pure and angelic rattle-snake ! 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, seat-
ing herself, and turning her back upon him. 'You don't consider
mine.'
' I do not consider yours, my soul 1 ' exclaimed Mr. Mantalini.
' 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. MantaUni was
clearly taken aback.
' His extravagance, Mr. Nickleby,' said Madame Mantalini, ad-
dressing herself to Ralph, who leant against his easy-chair with 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, sar-
castically.
' 'I assure you, Mr. Nickleby, however, that it is,' returned
Madame Mantalini. ' It makes me miserable. I am under con-
stant 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 trowsers pocket.
'I am obliged,' continued Madame Mantalini, 'since our last
misfortunes, to pay Miss Knag 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 convert the papers I have spoken
of, into money, and as you have assisted us very often before, and
are very much connected with us in this kind of matters, I 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
}iuu^7u ^n/
uaUd^M
MRS. MANTALINI'S OUTLINE 363
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 Mantahni, as tokens
of impatience manifested themselves in Ralph's countenance, '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 Mantahni, looking at Ralph, and
prudently abstaining from the slightest glance at her husband, 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, he cast his
hat and cane upon the floor, and drawing out his pocket-handker-
chief, gave vent to his feelings in a dismal moan.
' Demnition ! ' cried Mr. Mantalini, suddenly skipping out of his
chair, and as suddenly skipping into it again, to the great discom-
posure 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 two-penny
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 wUl laugh demnebly.'
'Alfred, you cruel, cruel, creature,' said Madame Mantalini,
sobbing at the dreadful picture.
' She calls me cruel — me — me — who for her sake will become a
demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body 1 ' exclaimed Mr. Mantalini.
364 NICHOLAS NiCltLEBV
' 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 ? ' cried her husband. ' Have I cut
my heart into a demd extraordinary number of 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 her!
Demmit, no I can't.'
' Ask Mr. Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned is not a
proper one,' reasoned Madame Mantalini.
' 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 talking,
and several attempts on the part of Mr. Mantalini to reach the
door, preparatory to straightway committing violence upon himself,
that gentleman was prevailed upon, with difficulty, to promise that
he wouldn't be a body. This great point attained, Madame
Mantalini argued the question of the allowance, and Mr. Mantalini
did the same, taking occasion to show that he could live with un-
common satisfaction upon bread and water, and go clad in rags,
but that he could not support existence with the additional burden
of being mistrusted by the object of his most devoted and dis-
interested affection. This brought fresh tears into Madame
Mantalini's eyes, which having just begun to open to some few of
the demerits 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 post-
poned 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 degradation 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 — is fleeting enough ;
though that which has its sole root in the admiration of a whiskered
face hke that of yonder baboon, perhaps lasts the longest, as it
originates in the greater bhndness 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 talie our leaves. I am sure we
have detained him much too long already.'
Mr. Mantalini answered, in the first instance, by tapping Madame
'DEMD EXTRAORDINARY THING" 365
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, draw-
ing Ralph into a corner. ' IJere's an affair about your 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 injured, and that his life is in some danger,'
answfered Ralph with great composure ; ' but I see nothing extra-
ordinary in that. Accidents are not miraculous events, when men
live hard, and drive after dinner.'
' Whew ! ' cried Mr. Mantalini in a long shrill whisde. ' 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
lo amaze Mr. Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at the face of
Newman Noggs, which had several 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 visitors 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, qlenching his fists and turning a livid
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
story ? 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 ! You're enough
to frighten my life and soul out of her little delicious wits — flying
all at once into such a blazing, ravaging, 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.
Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from whom Mr,
Mantalini had derived his information.
366 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 ferocity,
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 collar-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. ' Unless he
was dashed 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, knowing hand,' replied Mr. Mantalini, in
an admiring tone, ' the cunningest, rummest, superlativest 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 go 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 and
to the purpose, Mr. Mantalini kissed the fingers 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 bom 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.'
'HERE'S FIRMNESS' 367
* 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 j that's all,' said ^Newman, rubbing
his hands.
'Who has?' demanded Ralph, wrought by the intelligence he
had just hfeard, 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, bring-
ing his one eye (for he had but one) to bear on Ralph Nickleby,
made a great many shambling bows, and sat himself 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 attentively ; ' I should
know your face, Mr. Squeers.'
' Ah ! ' replied that worthy, ' and you'd 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 office, and tell him 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 the great discomposure of his son and heir.
' Here's firmness, here's solidness ! Why you can hardly get up
enough of him between your finger and thumb to pinch him
anywheres.'
In however good condition Master Squeers might have been, he
certainly did not present this remarkable compactness 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 morning, 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,
368 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
with a triumphant air, as Master Wackford wiped his eyes with the
cuff of his jacket, ' there's oihness ! '
' He looks well, indeed,' returned Ralph, who, for some purposes
of his own, seemed desirous to conciliate the schoolmaster. ' But
how is Mrs. Squeers, and how are you ?' r
' Mrs. Squeers, sir,' replied the proprietor of Dotheboys, ' is 'as
she always is — a mother 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 vittles, and then turning ill ; that's their way — got a
abscess on him last week. To see how she operated upon him
with a pen-knife ! 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 Dotheboys 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, touching first the roots of
his hair, and then the toes of his boots, ' from Aere to tAere. Vinegar
and brown paper, vinegar and brown paper, from morning to night.
I suppose there 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 parcel, chock full of nothing but groans. Did I groan loud,
Wackford, or did I groan soft ? ' asked Mr. Squeers, appealing to
his son.
' Loud,' replied Wackford.
'Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condition,
Wackford, or was they glad ? ' asked Mr. Squeers, in a sentimental
manner. '
'Gl— '
' Eh ? ' cried Squeers, turning sharp round.
' Sorry,' rejoined his 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 become 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 ? ' inquired
Ralph.
MR. SQUEERS ENTERS INTO A FEW DETAILS 369
'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 ; ' I 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 customers. 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 to their little bills, and the parents paid
it. Ha ! ha ! ha ! '
'And a good plan too,' said Ralph, eyeing the schoolmaster
stealthily.
'I believe you,' rejoined Squeers. 'We always do it. Why,
when Mrs. Squeers was brought to bed with little Wackford here,
we ran the whooping-cough through half-a-dozen boys, and charged
her expenses among 'em, monthly nurse included. Ha ! ha ! 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, enquired
what had brought him to town.
'Some bothering law business,' replied Squeers, scratching 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 observation.
' Grazing,' said Squeers, raising his voice, under the impression
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
neighbour's turnip field, or sometimes, if it's a delicate case, a turnip
field and a piece of carrots alternately, and let him eat as many as
he likes. There an't better land in the county than this perwerse
lad grazed on, and yet he goes and catches cold and indigestion
and >vbat not, and then his friends brings a lawsuit against me{
3 8
370 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Now, you'd hardly suppose,' added Squeers, moving in his chair
with the impatience of an ill-used man, ' that people's ingratitude
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 sixteen hundred pound worth, if I could get 'em, and be as
fond of every individual twenty pound among 'em as nothing should
equal it ? '
' Are you stopping at your old quarters ? ' asked Ralph.
' Yes, we are at the Saracen,' replied Squeers ; ' and as it don't
want very long to the end of the half-year, we shall continney to
stop there, till I've collected the money, and some new boys too, I
hope. I've brought little Wackford up, on purpose to show to
parents and guardians. I shall put him in the advertisement, this
time. Look at that boy — himself 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 producing, "after
much rummaging in an old drawer, a penny, a halfpenny, 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 pecuHarly knowing look to eke it
out, Mr. Squeers moyed his chair so as to bring himself 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, very readily, the violence that was committed upon
you, or the exposure which accompanied it ? '
' Devil a bit,' replied Squeers, tartly.
A FEW MORE DETAILS 371
' 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.'
After a long pause, during which Ralph appeared absorbed 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.
'When 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 enquiries
with the less reserve. ' It's fourteen years ago, by the entry 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 ? ' demanded Ralph.
' DeviUsh little, I'm sorry to say,' replied Squeers. ' The money
v/as 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 knowed anything about him. So I
kept the lad out of — out of — '
' Charity ? ' suggested Ralph drily.
' Charity, to be sure,' returned Squeers, rubbing his knees, ' and
372 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 roundabout kind of way, of people in our village. So, that
just when I might have had all arrears paid up, perhaps, and perhaps
— who knows ? such things have happened in our business before
— 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 collar 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 favour, 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 — ^r-.„ 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 Uttle 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 ofiSce, 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 fragmentary observations, Newman dropped
upon his desk and began to write with most marvellous rapidity.
' Why, what does the man mean ? ' cried Squeers, colouring. ' Is
he drunk?' ^ ■ p -
Newnian rnad^ no reply,
RECOLLECTIONS OP' RALpH 373
' Is he mad? ' said Squeers.
But still Newman betrayed no consciousness of any presence
save his own ; so, Mr. Squeers comforted himself by saying that he
was both drunk aud mad; and, with this parting 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 detestation of
Nicholas augmented. It might be, that to atone for the weakness
of inclining to any one person, he held it necessary 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 repulsive colours, to know that she was
taught to hate and despise 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 very first interview, and openly bearded
and braved him since, wrought his quiet and stealthy malignity to
such a pitch, that there was scarcely anything he would not have
hazarded to gratify it, if he could have seen his way to some
immediate retaliation.
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 harp-
ing on the same theme, and still pursuing the same unprofitable
reflections.
'When my brother was such as he,' said Ralph, 'the first
comparisons were drawn between us. Always in my disfavour.
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 try and show them what it is.'
And being, by this time, in a pleasant frame of mind for slumber,
Ralph Nickleby went to bed.
374 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 apartments 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 breakfasting with Newman
Noggs, had remained, in a disconsolate state, at that worthy
creature's lodgings, waiting, with much anxiety, for further intelli-
gence 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 poor fellow in due form. They will be kind to
him for his own sake, and if not (on that account 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 favour 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 lastj^that I almost feared you were lost.'
' Lost ! ' replied Nicholas gaily. ' 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 pushes 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, day and
night, for many years. I longed for home till I was weary, and
pined away with grief; but 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 handj 'except one, except one. I shall never
SMIKE'S FOREBODINGS 373
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 with one of your kind smiles, and in the summer
weather, when everything was alive — not dead like me — I could go
to that home, almost wi&out 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,' repUed Smike, ' In the church-
yard we are all alike, but here there are none like me. I am a poor
creature, but I know that.'
' You are a fooUsh, 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 ? 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 were 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 together ; and if that place were a gipsy's tent, or a
bam, 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-
traveller whom I prepared you to receive.'
Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened 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 trying 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 imconscious of his
distress and embarrassment, that he recovered almost immediately
and felt quite at home.
3? 5 i^ICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Then, Miss La Creevy came in ; and to her Smike had to be
presented also. And Miss La Creevy was very 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 better if 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-humour and
merriment, that Smike thought, within himself, she was the nicest
lady he had ever seen ; even nicer than Mrs. Grudden, of Mr.
Vincent 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 affectionately, 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 favourably 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 require : ' I am sure
any friend of yours has, as indeed he naturally ought to have, and
must have, of course, you know, a great claim upon me, and of
course, it is a very great pleasure to me to be introduced to any-
body you take an interest 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 before yester-
day ; 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 mother's
ear.
Reminiscences of mrs. nIckleby 377
' La, K.ate, tny 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 Nicholas, and I am very
much pleased. You didn't tell me, Nicholas, my dear,' added
Mrs. Nickleby, turning 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 communicatioh was by no means anticipated ;
but the name was no sooner pronounced, than Mrs. Nickleby
dropped upon a chair, and burst into a fit of crying.
' 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 tea-spoonful 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 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 suddenness of the encounter
made her faint away, directly. Wait, though,' added Mrs. Nickleby,
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 gentleman 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 moment, and
glided, by an easy change of the conversation occasionally, into
various other anecdotes, no less remarkable for their strict applica-
tion 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 Grim-
bles of Grimble Hall, somewhere in the North Riding, do you ? '
said the good lady, addressing herself to him. 'A very proud
378 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 suppose that the
unfortunate outcast of a Yorkshire school was likely to receive
many cards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in the
neighbourhood ? '
' Really, my dear, I don't know why it should be so very extra-
ordinary,' 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 ifs 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. Slammons;
which circumstance she attributed to the 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 circumstance 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 i^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.
Mr. Crummies occurred to him more than oncej 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 Jier part, to his seeking 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 distinc-
tion, 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 sufficient share of
headlong rashness and precipitation (qualities not altogether
A GLORIOUS OLD GENTLEMAN 379
unnatural at his time of life) ; with a very slender stock of money,
and a still more scanty stock of friends; what could he do?
' Egad ! ' said Nicholas, ' I'll try 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 precipita-
tion. 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 fortu-
nate to be endowed with so buoyant and sanguine a temperament.
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 advantages 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 instinctively 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 pro-
tected by a low-crowned broad-brimmed white hat, such as a
wealthy grazier might wear. He wore his coat buttoned ; and his
dimpled double-chiri rested in the folds of a white neckerchief—
not one of your stifF-starched apoplectic cravats, but a good, easy,
old-fashioned white neckcloth 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,
looking 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 accident ; not his
ordinary way of wearing it,) with such a pleasant smile playing
about his mouth, and such a comical expression of mingled slyness,
simplicity, kind-heartedness, and good-humour, lighting up his jolly
old face, that Nicholas would have been content to have stood
sSo NICHOLAS NICkLEBV
there, and looked at him until evening, and to have forgotten,
meanwhile, that there was such a thing as a soured mind or a
crabbed countenance to be met with in the whole w^ide world.
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 ofifence, 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 appearance,
was something so indescribably engaging, and bespeaking so much
worth, and there were 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
coloured 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 thinking 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 were you
going to say ? '
' Merely that I almost hoped — I mean to say, thought — you had
some object in consulting those advertisements,' said Nicholas.
A MEETING 381
' 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,
i ' Ha ! ha 1 ' 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 1 Dear me ! . No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman
reduced to such a necessity 1 No no, no no.'
Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good morning, turned upon
his heel.
' Stay,' said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street,
where they ' could converse with less interruption. ' What d'ye
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.
/ ' Wilderness ! Yes it is, it is. Good ! It is a wilderness,' 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, eh ? '
I ' 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.
I ' 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 £ind coldnesses, th^t Nicholas covild not resist it. Among
382 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
men who have any sound and sterling quahties, 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 restless
excitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak, immediately
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 adven-
ture 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 directions
of some packages which were lying about, Nicholas supposed that
the Brothers Cheeryble were German-merchants.
Passing through a warehouse which presented every indication of
a thriving business, Mr. Cheeryble (for such Nicholas supposed him
to be, from the respect which had been shown him by the ware-
housemen and porters whom they passed) led him into a little
partitioned-off counting-house like 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 corrie out since — a fat, elderly, large-faced clerk, with
silver spectacles and a powdered head.
' Is my brother in his room, Tim ? ' said Mr. Cheeryble, with no
less kindness of manner than he had shown to Nicholas.
' Yes he is, sir,' replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle-glasses
towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas, '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
THE CHEERYBLES 383
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 earnest-
ness. ' 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 very much obliged to Trimmers.' Saying which, Mr. Cheeryble
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
trembling 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 Tiu 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. 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 subscription 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 another 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 exchanged 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
384 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
up by beaming looks of affection, which would have been most
delightful to behold in infants, and which, in men so old, was inex-
pressibly touching^ — Nicholas could observe that the last old gentle-
man 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 shall 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 teeth, which
imparted the same peculiarity to their speech; and both spoke as if,
besides possessing the utmost serenity of mind that the kindliest
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 gentleman, ' 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 myself, brother Ned, because the young gentleman
is modest, aiKl is a scholar, Ned, and I shouldn't f?el it right that
TIM LINKINWATER 385
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 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 the two brothers ten minutes, he
could only wave his hand at every fresh expression of kindness and
sympathy, and sob like a little child.
At length brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back together,
when Tim instantly walked up to Nicholas and whispered 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 intention,
and quite approved of itj 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
with his pen, and drawing an 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 s.truck nine, and gone over the house every
night at half-past ten (except on Foreign Post nights, and then
twenty minutes before twelve) to see the doors fastened, and the
fires out. I've never slept out of the back attic one single night.
3 C
386 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
There's the same mignonette box in the middle of the window, and
the same four flower-pots, two on each side, that I brought with me
when I first came. . There an't — I've said it again and again, and
I'll maintain it — there an'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 have slept in that rocjm,' added Tim, sinking
his voice a little, ' for four-and-forty year ; and if it wasn't incon-
venient, and didn't interfere with business, I 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 evermore.'
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 Linkin-
water,' said the other. ' But in the mean time, 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-bye for
the present, and — there, there — take care of that box, my dear sir
— and — no, no, no, not a word now — be careful 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 veiy
ESTABLISHED WITH CHEERYBLE BROTHERS 387
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
i;ntil he had recovered some composure. When he at last glided
out of the dark doorway-comer 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 circumstances
just detailed awakened at Miss La Creevy's, and all the things that
were done, said, thought, expected, hoped, and prophesied in con-
sequence, is beside the present course and purpose of these adven-
tures. It is sufficient to state, in brief, that Mr. Timothy Linkinwater
arrived, punctual to his appointment ; that, oddity as he was, and
jealous as he was bound to be, of the proper exercise of his
employers' most comprehensive liberality, he reported strongly
and warmly in favour 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 circumstances
as these. Where is Tim Linkinwater ? — for nothing at all, my dear
brother, for nothing at all.'
' Perhaps it would be better to say something, Tjrother 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 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. Kate took
possession of the house, and all was hope, bustle, and lights
heartedness.
There surely never was such a week of discoveries and surprises
as the first week of that cottage. Every night when Nicholas came
388 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
home, something new had been found out. One day it was a grape
vine, and another day it was a boiler, and another day it was the
key of the front parlour closet at the bottom of the -water-butt, 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 Avith her
sleeves tucked up at the wrists, and falling off pairs of steps and
hurting herself very much — and Mrs. Nickleby, who talked in-
cessantly, 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 fragal 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 the
rich Nickleby was alone and miserable.
CHAPTER XXXVI
PRIVATE AND confidential; RELATING TO FAMILY MATTERS.
SHOWING HOW MR. KENWIGS UNDERWENT VIOLENT AGITATION,
ARD HOW MRS. KENWIGS WAS AS WELL AS COULD BE EXPECTED
It might have been seven o'clock in the evening, and it was grow-
ing 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 knob 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
AN IMPORTANT FAMILY EVENT 389
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 parlours, 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 civilised life, or mankind relapse into their original
barbarism. No genteel lady was ever yet confined^ — indeed, no
genteel confinement can possibly take place — ^without the accompany-
ing 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, arranging 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 neighbourhood, 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 dandling 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 complete
answer to those who contend for the gradual degeneration of the
human species, that every baby born 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.
390 ^ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 affec-
tionate conduct brought tears into the eyes of Mr. Kenwigs, and
caused him to declare that, in understanding and behaviour, 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.'
' 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 pubUc,) 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 neighbourhood 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,'
EXPECTATIONS OF THE KENWIGSES 391
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 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 j ' 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 1 should say,' said Mr.
Kenwigs abruptly, 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
siich a man as that, a kissing and taking notice of my children,'
pursued Mr. Kenwigs. ' It's naterally very gratifying 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.
' 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
393 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 anybody so
light to be alive, never. Such manners too ; so playful, 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 HoUoway
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 this 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 drinking 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 yourself, sir ? '
Nicholas shook hands, kissed his old pupils all round, entrusted
a large parcel of toys to the guardianship of 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 sitiw.i-
tion of Mrs. Kenwigs, sir, is no obstacle to a little conversation
between you and me, I hope ? '
NEWS OF MISS PETOWKER 393
' You are very good,' said Nicholas.
At this juncture, proclamation was made by another married 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 country ! ' 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 nobody disposed
to relieve him of his precious burden : ' All friends here.'
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 his kindest love,' said Nicholas.
' Very much obliged to him, I'm sure. Your great-uncle, Lilly-
vick, my dears,' interposed Mr. Kenwigs, condescendingly explaining
it to the children.
' His kindest love,' resumed Nicholas ; ' arid to say that he had
no time to write, but that he was married to Miss Petowker.'
Mr. Kenwigs started from his seat with a petrified stare, caught
394 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 yourself, you
wretch. Have you no regard for your baby ? '
' No ! ' returned Mr. Kenwigs.
' More shame for you,' retorted 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 Fondlirig ! '
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 matrons, declarmg
that Mr. Kenwigs had spoken blasphemy against his family, and
must be raving mad.
Appearances were certainly not in Mr. Kenwigs's favour, 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 an unwonted 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 earnest — interposing to explain the immediate cause of
his condition, 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,
//3
cl71/Aemm n£i^Ai/^^:>?r:■yw!n^>iaJ
THE LAST BUIXETIN 395
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 matrons gene-
rally ; ' but it'll all come home to him, never fear.'
Mr. Kenwigs looked darkly upon the ladies, as if he would prefer
its all coming home to him, 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 taking
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 -tVives 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. 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 chamber was ready for
her afflicted parent ; and Mr. Kenwigs, having 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 satis-
factorily, and having further presided over the distribution of the
toys, to the perfect contentment of all the little Kenwigses, 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 were left to their repose.
396 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XXXVn
NICHOLAS FINDS FURTHER FAVOUR 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 realise the very sanguine
expectations which a stranger would be disposed to form on hearing
the fervent encomiums bestowed upon it by Tim Linkinwater, was,
nevertheless, a sufficiently desirable nook in the heart of a busy
town like London, and one which occupied a high place in the
affectionate remembrances of several grave persons domiciled in
the neighbourhood, 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 accustomed
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, however 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, retired
spot, favourable to melancholy and contemplation, and appoint-
ments 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 summer'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 watcli
when you stop to cool in its refreshing atmosphere. There is a
distant hum — of coaches, not of insects — but no other sound dis-
turbs the stillness of the square. The ticket porter leans idly
PUNCTUALITY AND ORDER 397
against the post at the comer, comfortably warm, but not hot,
although the day is broiling. His white apron flaps languidly in
the air, his head gradually droops upon 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 marbles ? Does he see a ghost, or hear an organ ? No ;
sight more unwonted still — there is a butterfly in the square — a
real, live butterfly ! astray from flowers and sweets, and fluttermg
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 partake 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, vmknown church hard by, (for Tim held the fabled goodness
of that at the Horse 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 accustomed inches of space.
Except the clock, there was not such an accurate and unim-
peachable 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, glancing proudly at the
cage. And with that, Tim would utter a melodious chirrup, and
cry ' Dick ; ' find Dick, who, for any sign of life he had previously
398 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 warehousemen 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 walls, 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 partook of the reigning
influence, and became emblems of mercy and forbearance.
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 mysteries 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 recollectiqps of two or three very long sums entered into a
cyphering-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 labours.
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-moumfuUy, half-
proudly, upon the fair and unblotted entries.
' Four-and-forty year, next May 1 ' said Tim. ' Many new ledgers
since then. Four-and-forty year 1 '
Tim closed the book again.
' Come, come,' said Nicholas, ' I am all impatience to begin,'
Tim Lirikinwater shook his head with an air of mild reproof.
Mr. Nickleby was not suflficiently impressed with the deep and
-^i^iAi/u^'oAf i>i/i-^ta/&j /{/,j c^/i'kn '(t / a/fhe/wuij
w
\?m,
TIM EXCITED 399
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 precaution of
sitting himself down upon his stool, but standing leisurely at the
desk, and with a smile upon his face— actually a smile — there was
no mistake about it; Mr. Linkinwater often mentioned it after-
wards — 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 Linkinwater
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 contain 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, 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.'
400 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 ?
But now,' said Tim, extending 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 any-
thing else till you have been wished many happy returns of the day,
Tim Linkinwater ? God bless you, Tim 1 God bless you ! '
' My dear brother,' said the other, seizing Tim's disengaged 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,' repUed brother Ned.
' There's not a doubt about it.'
' Remember, Tim,' said brother Charles, ' that we dine at half-
past five to-day instead of two o'clock ; we always depart 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 ! 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 possi-
bility of any thanks or acknowledgment being expressed on the
ANNUAL DINNER . 401
other side, the twins trotted off, arm in arm : having endowed Tim
Linkinwater with a costly gold snuff-box, inclosing 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 house-
keeper, 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: not-
withstanding 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 consign-
ment had been duly set forth, at full length, on the back of an old
letter, and the boy enjoined, under pain of divers horrible penalties,
the full extent 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 house-keeper condoled ; and
both kept thrusting their heads out of the second-floor window to
see if the boy was " coming " — which would have been highly satis-
factory, and, upon the whole, tantamount to his being come, as the
distance to the comer was not quite five yards — ^when, all of a
sudden, and vi^hen he was least expected, 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 well 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 com-
fort — and it was no use scolding him — that was another; so the
boy went upon his way rejoicing, and Tim Linkinwater's sister pre-
sented 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 Linkin-
water, a ruddy-faced white-headed friend of Tim's, (who' was a super-
annuated bank clerk,) and Nicholas, who was presented to Tim
Linkinwater's sister with much gravity and solemnity. 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 arm-chair, and, waving his
right arm preparatory to taking off the covers with a flourish, stood
bolt upright and motionless.
2 D
402 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'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 evet
flagging, for the good-humour of the glorious old twins drew every-
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 preserved and handed down in the
family. This history concluded, brother Ned related how that,
exactly thirty-five years ago, Tim Linkinwater was suspected to
have received a love-letter, and hgw that vague '.information had
been brought to the countinjg-hoifse of his having been seen walking
down Cheapside with an uncommonly handsome spinster ; at which
there was a roar of laughter, said Tim Linkinwater being charged
with blushing, and called, upon to explain, denied that the accusa-
tion was triie ; and further, that there would have been any harm
in it if it had been ; which last position occasioned the super-
amiuated 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 (/taf.
There was one little ceremony peculiar to the day, both the
matter and manner of which made a very strong impression upon
Nicholas. The cloth having been removed and the decanters sent
round for the first time, a profound silence succeeded, and in the
cheerful faces of the brothers there appeared an expression, not of
absolute melancholy, but of quiet thoughtfulness 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 indi-
vidually, said :
' Brother Charles, my dear fellow, there is another association
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 exemplary 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,'
TOAST AND SENTIMENT 403
' Good Lord ! ' thought Nicholas, ' and there are scores of people
of their own station, knowing all this, and twenty thousand times
more, who wouldn't ask these men to dinner because they eat with
their knives, and never went to school ! '
But there was no time to moralise, for the joviaUty 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 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 complacently 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. Linkin-
water knows very well. That was laid down, when Mr. Linkinwater
first come, that wine was, gentlemen.'
' Nay, David, nay,' interposed brother Charles.
' I wrote the entry in the cellar-book myself, sir, if 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 ? '
' 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 housemaid, brought up
the rear.
'Seven,' said brother Ned, filling a corresponding number of
glasses with the double-diamond, ' and David, eight — There ! Now,
you're all of ybu to. drink the health of your best friend Mr. Timothy
Linkinwaterj and wish him health and long life and many happy
returns of. this day; both for his own sake and that of your old
404 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
masters, who consider him an inestimable treasure. Tim Linkin-
water, 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.
The toast was scarcely drunk with all honor to Tim Linkinwater,
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 grey hair in the middle of his
forehead as a respectful salute to the company, and delivered him-
self as follows — rubbing the palms of his hands very hard on a blue
cotton handkerchief 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 contrairy sense, which the meaning is the
same. (A pause — the butler imconvinced.) What we mean to say
is, that there never was (looking at the butler) — such — (looking at
the cook) noble — excellent — (looking everywhere and seeing nobody)
free, generous spirited masters as them as has treated us so hand-
some 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
Linkinwatefs 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 excitements, 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 con-
sequently, 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
MRS. NICKLEBY AS HISTORIAN 405
these days. It cost me five-and-twenty shillings. . I bought it, soon
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 Linkinwater'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 endeavours 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 was 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 principal 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
excellences and munificence of the brothers Cheeryble, 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 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 wliich preface, Mrs. Nickleby took her night-cap from
between the leaves of a very large prayer-book where it had been
4o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 particular 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 prayers 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 subject 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 underdone, 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 prevailed 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 anxious about if, and of course
it's a very delightful and consoling thing to have a grown-up son
that one can put confidence in, and advise with ; indeed I don't
know any use there would be in having sons at all, unless people
could put confidence in them.'
Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his mother
began to speak, and looked at her with fixed attention.
'There was a lady in our neighbourhood,' said Mrs. Nickleby,'
' speaking of sons puts me in mind of it — a lady in our neighbour-
hood when we lived near Dawlish, I think her name was Rogers;
A WANDERING MIND 407
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 herl' 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 ! Any-
body 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 unfortunate
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 — with the gentle-
man 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 is a
gentleman, and has the manners of a gentleman, and the appearance
of a gentleman, although he does wear smalls and grey 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 ISififin : she was — no,'
added Mrs. Nickleby, correcting herself, ' I think she had only toes,
but the principle 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 arbour, 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
4o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 immediately.
' 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 night-cap, which arrested
his attention sudderily.
' 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, 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
extent 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 ? ' 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 any-
thing 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
A DECLARATION 4*9
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
Mmseli — ^which it is quite frightful to think of. Somehow or other,'
added Mrs. Nickleby, after a momentary pause, ' they always are
journeyman 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 almost
beyond endurance, but looking nearly as resigned and patient as
Mrs. Nickleby herself. ' You know, there is no language of vege-
tables, which converts a cucumber into a formal declaration of
attachment.'
' My dear,' replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head and 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.
' Every time I go to the window,' said Mrs. Nickleby, ' he kisses
one hand, and lays the other upon his heart — of course it's very
foolish of him to do so, and I dare say you'll say it's very wrong,
but he does it very respectfiiUy — 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 proposed 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 regard to what
you should do, my dear mother, do what your good sense and
410 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
feeling, and respect for my father's memory, would prompt. There
are a thousand ways in which you can show your dislike of these
preposterous and doting attentions. If you act as decidedly as
you ought and they are still continued, 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 take them to heart, or treat them earnestly for an instant.
Absurd 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 children
would have prevented her seriously contemplating a second
marriage, even if she could have so far conquered her recollections
of her late husband as to have any strong inclinations that way.
But, although there was no evil and little real selfishness in Mrs.
Nickleby's heart, she had 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 unknown gentleman, 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 reflections, 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-tvventy 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, begun
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 1 '
TRANQUILLITY AND HAPPINESS OF KATE 411
CHAPTER XXXVIII
COMPRISES CERTAIN PARTICULARS ARISING OUT OF A VISIT OF
CONDOLENCE, WHICH MAY PROVE IMPORTANT HEREAFTER.
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 neigh-
bour, or of their effects upon the susceptible bosom of her mama,
Kate Nickleby had, by this time, begun to enjoy a settled feeling
of tranquillity and happiness, to which, even in occasional 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 colour 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 ruminations 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 inmates.
' Which I declare I haven't had since I first came down here,'
said Miss La Creevy ; ' for I 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 pleasanter
things to think of, I should be a goose if I did,' said Miss La
Creevy. ' By the bye, I have thought of somebody too. Do you
know, that I observe a great change in one of this family^ — a very
extraordinary change ? '
' In whom ? ' asked Kate, anxiously. ' Not in — '
' Not in your brother, my dear,' returned Miss La Creevy, antici-
pating the close of the sentence, 'for he is always the same
affectionate 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 will be called, poor
fellow ! for he won't hear of -a Mr. before his name, is greatly
altered, even in this short time.'
412 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 feeble 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, certainly, 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,
from 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 understand very simple things. I have
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, chatter-
ing tone, which was habitual to her, ' I have said my say, and a
very long say it is, and a very WTOng 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 never 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 gallivanting with somebody who may rob the house — though
what 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, I know, and that's the
honest truth.'
So saying, little Miss La Creevy hid her face in a very 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 consequence whereof, as
SIR MULBERRY ON THE SICK-LIST 413
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 considerable time in the picking-up. This ceremony
had, of course, to be succeeded by a second kissing of Kate and
Mrs. Nickleby, and a gathering together of the httle basket and
the brown-paper parcel, during which proceedings, ' the omnibus,'
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 then Miss La Creevy darted out, and darted in,
apologising witli great volubility to all the passengers, and declaring
that she wouldn't purposely have kept them waiting on any account
whatever. While she was looking 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 gentleman deemed expedient and
advisable; this narrative may embrace the opportunity of ascer-
taining 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 disfigured
by half-healed scars, and pallid from the exhaustion of recent pain
and fever, Sir Mulberry Hawk lay stretched upon 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 varying 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 likely
to yield him interest or amusement.
' Curse those hounds ! ' said the invalid turning his head im-
patiently 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 1 ' muttered the sick man between his teeth, and writhing
impatiently in his bed. ' Isn't this mattress hard enough, and the
414 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 coolly. His address and skill were more than
twenty times a match for his adversary, who could make little head
against them, even when fortune favoured 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 con-
siderably lowered in tone, that had resounded in Ralph Nickleby's
dining-room, months before.
While he was thus occupied, his man appeared, to announce 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 '
' 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 permission to see Sir Mulberry Hawk, if
it was not inconvenient.
' It is inconvenient. I can't see him. I can't see anybody,' said
his master, more violently than before. ' You know that, you block-
head.'
'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 favours,
held the door in his hand, and ventured to linger still.
' Did he say whether he had any business to speak about ? ' in-
quired Sir Mulberry, after a little impatient consideration.
' No, sir. He said he wished to see you, sir. Particularly, Mr.
Nickleby said, sir.'
' Tell him to come up. Here ! ' cried Sir Mulberry, calling 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 comprehended
the motive with which they were dictated, and left the room.
A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE 415
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 cUent.
' 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 have known you, Sir Mulberry. Dear,
dear ! This is bad.'
Ralph's manner was one of profound humiUty and respect, and
his low tone of voice was that which the gentlest consideration for
a sick man would have taught a visitor to assume. But the ex-
pression of his face. Sir Mulberry's being averted, was in extraordinary
contrast. And as he stood, in his usual attitude, calmly looking
on the prostrate form before him, all that part of his features which
was not cast into shadow by his protruding 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, presuming upon
old acquaintance, and past transactions by which we have mutually
benefited in some degree, I could not resist 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 in deprecation of the intense irrita-
tion 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 endure it.
' And what is it in these " past transactions," that brought you
here to-night ? ' said Sir Mulberry.
' Nothing,' replied Ralph. ' There are some bills of my lord's
41 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 inflicted such punish-
ment 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 vagabond — that I acknowledge
him as no kin of mine — and that I leave him to take his deserts
from you, and every man besides. You may wring his neck if you
please. / shall not interfere.'
' 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. ' Every 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 un-
moved and quiet manner. ' Some say he frightened you, but that's
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 hand 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, actually
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
favouring 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 chastity, that pink of prudery, his delicate
sister, through '
I 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
A PATRON OF THE RING 417
man about town, the rake, the roui, 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 ? '
The siek 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 jauntily, 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 this
little piece of sound family feeling, and took up his hat preparatory
to departing. Lord Frederick 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 idiot. Croak, croak, croak. Bow, wow, wow.
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 Frederick Verisopht,
who at the commencement had been twirling his whiskers with a
most dandified and listless air, underwent a complete alteration.
2 &
4i8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
He was still more surprised when, Sir Mulberry ceasing to speak,
the young lord angrily, and almost unaffectedly, requested never to
have the subject renewed in his presence.
' Mind that. Hawk ! ' he added, with unusual energy, ' I never will
be a party to, or permit, if I can help it, a cowardly attack upon this
young fellow.'
' Cowardly ! ' interrupted his friend.
' Ye-es,' 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 prevented 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 handsome 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 any one 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 unpleasant
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 Mulberry
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 alarming surprise ;
an(j 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 by no means allow
of Smike's walking back again, until he had been previously refreshed
with just a sip of something comfortable and a mixed biscuit or so ;
and Smike, entertaining no objection either to the sip of something
comfortable, or the mixed biscuit, but, considering on the contrary
that they would be a very pleasant preparation for a walk to Bow.
SMIKE TAKEN PRISONER 419
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 bye 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 1 '
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 with 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.
' 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 dehcious go ! Wackford,
my boy, call up one of the 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 labourer with a hod of
420 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
bricks, against whom and a fellow-labourer 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 mediate 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 the experiments, Mr. Squeers administered a few boxes
on the ear, lest the entertainment 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 Wackford.
' To think,' said Squeers, ' that you and me should be turning
out of a street, and come upon him at the very nick ; and that
I should have him tight, at only one cast of the umbrella, as if
I had hooked him with a grappling-iron ! Ha, ha ! '
' Didn't I catch hold of his leg, neither, father ? ' said little
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 j 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
'.&ft^yt£<>Ci1»m^<7>t/,
THRESHING IN A HACKNEY-COACH 421
at the peaceful village of Dotheboys, in Yorkshire, 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 rvm off in, you ungrateful robber ? ' said Mr. Squeers, in
a severe voice.
Smike glanced at the neat attire which the care of Nicholas 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?' 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-twenty 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, instead of having
a large stock on hand ready for all comers j nor would the opinion
of sceptical persons have undergone much alteration when he
followed up the remark by poking Smike in the chest with the
ferrule of his umbrella, and dealing a smart shower of blows, with
the ribs of the same instrument, 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 inconveniency 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 comer 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, tiian he had had in all the
weary years of his Yorkshire hfe which preceded the arrival of
Nicholas.
The journey seemed endless ; street after street was entered and
left behind: and still they went jolting on. At last Mr. Squeers
began to thrust his head out of the window every half-minute,
and to bawl a variety of directions to the coachman; and after
passing, with some difficulty, 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 puUing a man's arm off for ? ' said the coachman,
looking angrily down.
422 NICHOLAS iSFICKLEBY
' That's the house,' replied Scjueers. ' 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. Snawley'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 history. Mr.
Snawley's house was on the extreme borders of some new settle-
ments adjoining Somers Town, and Mr. Squeers had taken lodgings
therein for a short time, as his stay was longer than usual, and as
the Saracen, having experience of Master Wackford's appetite, had
declined to receive him on any other terms than as a full-grown
customer.
' Here we are ! ' said Squeers, hurrying Smike into the little
parlour, 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, scratch-
ing 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 litde
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 bene-
factor, 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, grandmother, aunt, — ^Ah ! and I
MR. SQUEERS TAKES PRECAUTIONS 423
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 ? '
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 benefactor might have committed some terrible crime
in bringing him away, which would render him liable to heavy
punishment 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 rigour
and cruelty in childhood ; there must be years of misery and suffering
lightened by no ray of h^pe ,• the chords of the heart, which beat
a quick response to the voice of gentleness and affection, must have
rusted and broken in their secret places, and bear the lingering echo
of no old word of love or kindness. Gloomy, indeed, must have
been the short day, and dull the long, long" twilight, preceding such
a night of intellect as his.
There were voices which 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.
424 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 morning, 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 country-
man on the box, who, with his eyes 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 being let sharply down, he looked round,
and encountered a pretty female face which was just then thrust out.
' See there, lass ! ' bawled the countryman, pointing towards 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-humouredly, 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
twolve moonths. It's na' but a Poast-office ! Ho ! ho ! They need
to charge for dooble-latthers. 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 Browdie — 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, except for
a minute or two now and then,' replied John Browdie'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 muffled
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
A FRIEND IN NEED ARRIVES 425
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 comer, and many exclama-
tions of impatience and fatigue, the figure struggled into a sitting
posture; and there, under a mass of crumpled beaver, and sur-
rounded by a semicircle of blue curl-papers, were the delicate features
of Miss Fanny Squeers.
' Oh, 'Tilda ! ' cried Miss Squeers, ' how you Kave been kicking
of me through this blessed night ! '
' Well, I do hke 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 have 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 uncommonly neat, 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 vei-e ? ' 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 grufily, as he
banged the door.
' '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 ; * wa
dean't come to Lunnun to do nought but 'joy oursel, do we ? '
' I hope not, Mr. Browdie,' replied Miss Squeers, looking singu-
larly 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 himsel noo, when ought he,
hey ? Drat it all, thot's what I want to know.'
426 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 suc-
ceeded 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 splendour 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 arranged in curls so tight that it
was impossible they could come out by any accident, and her
bonnet-cap trimmed with litrie damask 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 behind, — to have beheld all this, and to have taken further
into account the coral bracelets (rather ^ort of beads, and with 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 disengaged affections — •
to have contemplated all these mute but expressive appeals to the
purest feelings of our nature, might have thawed the frost of age,
and added new and inextinguishable 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 ? ' 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 tliere was any gen'l'man of that name in the
house. Miss,' replied the waiter. 'There may be, in the coffee-
room.'
May 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 excite, told that
'CA' THIS A PIE?' 427
her father ntight be there ! ' As if he was a feller ! ' observed Miss
Squeers, with emphatic indignation.
' Ye'd betther inquire, mun,' said John Browdie. ' An' bond up
another pigeon-pie, will 'ee? Dang the chap,' muttered John,
looking into the empty dish as the waiter retired ; ' Does he ca' this
a pie — three yoong 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 ! '
After a 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 returned 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, schoolmeasther,'
said John, vigorously attacking the pie.
' One of them things that young men do when they get 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 instance. They come
on you,' said Mr. Squeers in a moralising 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 Uttle
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 vehemently.
' / can wait.'
'So can the young men, it seems, Fanny,' observed Mrs.
Browdie.
' They an't draw'd into it by me, 'Tilda,' retorted Miss Squeers.
' No,' returned her friend j ' that's exceedingly true.'
438 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
The sarcastic tone of this reply might have provoked a rather
acrimonious retort from Miss Squeers, who, besides being 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 precise 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.'
' Wa'at ! ' exclaimed John Browdie, pushing away his plate.
' Got that poor— dom'd scoundrel ? Where ? '
'Why, in the top back room, at my lodging,' replied Squeers,
' with him on one side, and the key on the other.'
' At thy loodgin' ! Thee'st gotten him at thy loodgin' ? Ho !
ho ! The schoolmeasther agin all England ! Give us thee hond,-
mun; I'm darned but I must shak thee by the bond for thot. —
Gotten him at thy loodgin' ? '
'Yes,' replied Squeers, staggering in his chair under the con-
gratulatory blow on the chest which the stout Yorkshireman 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 so 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 impatience,
Mr. Squeers related the lucky 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 auditors, paused not
in the recital until he had brought it to an end.
' For fear he should give me the slip, by any chance,' observed
Squeers, when he had finished, looking very cunning, ' I've taken
three outsides for to-morrow morning — for Wackford and him and
me — and have arranged to leave the accounts and the new boys
to the agent, don't you see ? So, it's very lucky you come to-day,
JOHN BROWDIE GOES TO BED 429
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 twenty 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 would not begin to see London till to-
morrow, so that they might be at Mr. Snawley's at 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, con-
stantly 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 manner, that Miss Squeers opined he
was going mad, and, begging her dear 'Tilda not to distress herself,
communicated her suspicions 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
therefore he was better left alone.
The result proved her to be perfectly correct ; for, while they
were all sitting in Mr. Snawley's parlour 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, and were left entirely to him-
self, he would be sure to recover again almost as quickly as he had
been taken ill. Nobody could refuse to try the effect of so reason-
able a proposal, before sending for a surgeon. Accordingly, John
was supported up stairs, with great difficulty (being a monstrous
weight, and regularly tumbling down two steps every 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 parlour,
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
Joud with laughter. He had no sooner succeeded in suppressing
430 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 York-
shireman 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 significantly,
and, drawing a screw-driver 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 ? Weel. 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 fugitive's neck.
' Noo, foller 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. ' But he
brought me back before, and will again. He will, he will indeed.'
' He wull, he wuU ? ' replied John, impatiently. ' He wean't, he
wean't. Look'ee ! I wont to do this neighbourly loike, and let
SMIKE MAKES OFF 431
them think thee's gotten awa' o' theeself, but if he cooms oot o'
thot parlour awhiles thee'rt clearing off, he mun' have mercy on his
oun boans, for I wean't. If he foinds it oot, soon efther, I'll put
'un on a wrong scent, I warrant 'ee. But if thee keep'st a good
hart, thee'lt 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 tottering 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 ! 'Cod, I think I see 'un now, a powderin' awa' at the thin
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, placing himself close
to the parlour-door, to confront the first person that 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 deliverer, he took the direction which had been in-
dicated to him, and sped away, like the wind.
The Yorkshireman remained on his post, for a few minutes, 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, lik^ 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.
432 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XL
IN WHICH NICHOLAS FALLS IN LOVE. HE EMPLOYS A MEDIATOR,
WHOSE PROCEEDINGS ARE CROWNED WITH UNEXPECTED SUC-
CESS, EXCEPTING IN ONE SOLITARY PARTICULAR
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 constancy of purpose, borne
upon such wings as only Fear can wear, and impelled by imaginary
shouts in the well-remembered 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 ex-
haustion could scarcely retard. It was not until the darkness and
quiet of a country road, recalled him to a sense of external objects,
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 travel-
ling into the country for ten or a dozen miles, and then returning
homewards, by a wide circuit, which should keep him clear of London
— so great was his apprehension of traversing 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 London again, with scarcely less speed of foot than that
with which he had left the temporary abode of Mr. Squeers.
RETURN OF SMIKE 433
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 dwelling of Newman Noggs.
AH that evening, Newman had been hunting and searching in
by-ways and comers 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 Sniike
did little more than put his lips to the precious mixture ; he was in
the act of raising the mug to his own mouth with 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 Newman
as Smike 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, he hastily deposited the mug
upon the table, and limped 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 com-
posed 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 probable 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 disappointment,
and once more lifting up the mug, applied himself to the contents;
Z F
434 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 minute's rest or
peace ; no more has the old lady, nor Miss Nickleby.'
' No, no. Has she thought about me ? ' said Smike. ' Has she
though ? 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 unwonted
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 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 1 '
It was by no means clear, from the tone of these broken reflec-
tions, that Newman Noggs considered them as explaining, 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 — pleading his anxiety to see his friends
again — they eventually sallied forth together j 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, Nicholas, 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 conversation, and congratulation, and
indignation, that the remainder of the family were soon awakened,
A RURAL RETREAT 435
and Smike received a warm and cordial welcome, not only from
Kate, but from Mrs. Nickleby also : who assured him of her future
favour and regard, and was so obliging as to relate for his entertain-
ment 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 or escape
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 carry off Smike ; but, on more mature consideration, he was in-
clined to think that the full merit of it rested with Mr. Squeers.
Determined to ascertain, if he could, through John Browdie, how
the case really stood, he betook himself to his daily occupation :
meditating as he went, on a great variety of schemes for the punish-
ment of the Yorkshire schoolmaster, all of which had their foundation
in the strictest principles of retributive justice, and had but the one
drawback of being wholly impracticable.
' A fine morning, Mr. Linkinwater ! ' said Nicholas, entering the
office.
' Ah ! ' replied Tim, ' talk of the country, indeed ! What do you
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.' ^Ijjj. ,.
' You should see it from mine,' replied Nicholas, with arimile.
' Pooh ! pooh ! ' said Tim Linkinwater. ' Don't tell me. Country ! '
(Bow was quite a rustic place to Tim,) ' Nonsense ! 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, with-
out 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 'en-
couraged by the tone of this reply to be more communicative 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,
436 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' They belong to a sickly bed-ridden hump-backed boy, and seera
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 himself about on a pair of tiny crutches ?
Well ! Well i Not many ; but though they would appear nothing,
if I thought of other things, they seem a long long time, when I
think of him. It is a sad thing,' said Tim, breaking ofiF, ' 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, and
then we came to speak. Formerly, when I 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 fathdp«./es 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 haiids. 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 light 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 have 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 suppose 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
MYSTERY 437
fiaction of the pain that I shall feel when those old jugs and bottles
are swept away as lumber ! Country ! ' cried Tim, with a con-
temptuous emphasis; 'don't you know that I couldn't have such
a court under my bed-room window, anywhere, but in London ? '
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 another 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 Cheeryble was alone in his room, Tim
promptly, and without the smallest hesitation, replied in the affirma-
tive, although somebody had passed into the room not ten minutes
before, and Tim took especial and particular pride in preventing any
intrusion 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 there,' 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 precipi-
tately 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 recognised 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 unex-
pected recognition, he stood stock-still, in such a bewildered state of
surprise and 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 forward.
-^
438 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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, ' where 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 beseech 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 Linkinwater, jostling
each other in the passage, and hurrying to the scene of action with
extraordinary speed. Without waiting 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 thought of all this, the more it perplexed him, and the
more anxious he became 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 alone.
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 thirty-eight ? '
' Nay,' returned Nicholas, ' what do you make of my question
first ? I asked you '
' About the young lady,' said Tim Linkinwater, putting on his
spectacles. ' To be sure. Yes. Oh ! she's very well'
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NICHOLAS SENTIMENTAL 439
' Very well, is she ? ' returned Nicholas.
' Vety well,' repUed 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 Linkinwater had his own reasons for evading the subject,
and that he was determined to afiford no further information lespect-
ing the fair unknown, who had awakened sq much curiosity in the
bfeast of his. young friend. "Nothing daunted by this repulse,
Nicholas returned ' to the ' charge . next day, embqldened by the
circumstance of 'Mr. Linkiiiwater being iii a very' talkative aiid
comiriunicative mbddj'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 re,tuj-ning no answers at
all,' save sUch as were to be iiiferred from several grave rnods and
shrugs, which only served to whet that appetite ' for intelhgence in
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 dis-
appointed. 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 occasions he was employed on
business which took him to a distance, and had formerly been
transacted by Tim Linkinwater. Nicholas could not help suspect-
ing 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 indispensable to
the growth of love, but they are, very often, its powerful 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
hoUowness of heart, even between friends, and truth and honesty,
like precious stones, are perhaps most easily imitated at a distance,
when the counterfeits often pass for real. ^ Love, however, is very
materially assisted by a warm and active imagination, which has a
long memory, and will thrive for a considerable time on very slight
and sparing food. Thus it is, that it often attains its most luxuriant
growth in separation and under circumstances of the utmost
440 NICHOLAS NICK.LEBY
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 confidante 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 ardour and devotion
remained without its reward. The young lady appeared no more j
so there was a 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 correspondent
of the brothers Cheeryble, in Germany, imposed upon Tim Linkin-
water 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 Linkin-
water 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 history 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 sus-
picion of all beholders. Indeed, divers servant-girls who came to
MISS BOBSTER 441
draw water, and sundry little boys who stopped to drink at the
ladle, were almost scared out of their senses, by the apparition of
Newman Noggs looking stealthily round the pump, with nothing of
him visible but his face, and that wearing the expression of a medi-
tative Ogre.
Punctual to her time, the messenger came again, and, after an
interview of rather longer duration than usual, departed. Newman
had made two appointments with Nicholas : 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,' whispered 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 ? ' 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 an't,' said Newman, shaking his head with great positive-
ness. ' 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,' iretorted 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
442 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
for yourself. I persuaded her. She is all affability, sweetness, and
beauty.' ., t.t- t i
' 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 ? 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 ? Did you tell her where I had seen her ? 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 distress like a gUmpse 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 characteristic
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 ? ' asked Nicholas.
' Blushed,' said Newman.
' To be sure. Of course she would,' said Nicholas, approvingly.
Newman then went on to say, that the young 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 under-
stood that she merely afforded Nicholas an opportunity of declaring
his passion ; and how she by no means pledged herself to be favour-
ably impressed with his attentions. The mystery of her visits to
the brothers Cheeryble, remained wholly unexplained, for Newman
had not alluded to them, either in his preliminary conversations
with the servant or his subsequent interview with 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
GREAT SUCCESS OF NEWMAN NOGGS 443
suspect that the young lady led a very miserable and unhappy life,
under the strict control 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 suifering herself to be prevailed
upon to grant the promised interview. The last he held to be a
very logical deduction from the premises, inasmuch 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 considered himself bound, both in duty and
gallantry, to avail himself of such a golden means of enabling
Nicholas to prosecute 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 something of the life 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 fortune ! '
Still, Nicholas was dissatisfied ; and there was more in the dis-
satisfaction than mere revulsion of feeling. He was angry with the
young lady for being so easily won, ' because,' reasoned Nicholas,
' it is not as if she knew it was I, but it might have been anybody,'
—which was certainly not pleasant. The next moment, he was angry
with himself for entertaining such thoughts, arguing that nothing
but goodness could dwell in such a temple, and that the behaviour
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 speculation and con-
jecture, where he tossed and tumbled, in great discomfort of mind,
until the clock struck ten, and the hour of meeting drew nigh.
Nicholas had dressed himself with great care, and even Ne\\'man
444 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 intervals. 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 uncon-
scious 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 railings, and gave him
to understand that he was to wait there, without moving hand or
foot, until it was satisfactorily ascertained that the coast was clear.
This done, Noggs limped away with great alacrity ; looking over
his shoulder every instant, 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.
' 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 — ^lie 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 bespeaking anything rather than the hope
and rapture of a passionate lover. Newman followed — he would
CONFUSION 445
have followed head first, but for the timely assistance of Nicholas
—and, taking his hand, led him through a stone passage, profoundly
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 glad 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 gentleman 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.'
A gleam of light shone into the place, and presently the servant-
girl appeared, bearing a hght, 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 colour ;
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 appairent stupefaction, 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 irre-
solution. It was but a moment, 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 ! ' Qied Nicholas. ' Only
one. I will not detain you. Will you hear me say one word in
explanation of this mischance ? '
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.
446 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 Newman, cling-
ing 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 ofFj and,
precisely as Mr. Bobster made his entrance by the street-door, he
and Noggs made their exit by the area-gate.
They hurried away, through several streets, without stopping 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. ' Excellently,
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.'
' Eh ? ' cried Newman Noggs. ' Taken in by the servant ? '
' 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 consequence ;
you see I don't care about it ; you followed the wrong person,
that's all.'
That zuas 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.
MRS. NICKLEBY'S SENSE OF DUTY 447
CHAPTER XLI
CONTAINING SOME ROMANTIC PASSAGES BETWEEN MRS. NICKLEBY
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 adornment of
her person, gradually superadding to those staid and matronly habili-
ments which had, up to that time, formed her ordinary attire, a
variety of embellishments and decorations, slight perhaps in them-
selves, but, taken together, and considered 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 prudent 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 comers 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 kill'ng
designs upon the living.
Mrs. Nickleby might have been stimulated to this proceeding 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 unavailing 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 j
rudely stigmatised as a dotard and an idiot ; and for these attacks
upon his understanding, Mrs. Nickleby was, in some sort, account-
able. 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
incautiously 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,
448 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
when I used to hate him, he would have a Uttle more feeUng. Shall
I ever forget the morning I looked scornfully at him when he offered
to carry 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 her work-
box, in this stage of her reflections ; and a much slighter 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 recol-
lect dining once at Mrs. Sevan'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,' returned
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.'
Kate laughingly replied that she was quite convinced; and as
ASSOCIATIONS OF IDEAS 449
her mama still appeared undetermined whether it was not absolutely
essential that the subject should be renewed, 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 will say,' observed Mrs. Nickleby, 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 arbour 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 looTced up inquiringly.
'If he hasn't been,' said Mrs. Nickleby, 'and got, from some-
where 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 sup-
pose 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 ! '
' 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, taising 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 ! '
'I scarcely ever hear you, my dear,' retorted Mrs. Nickleby j
' 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
littie trap, if trap it were, and inquired what she had been going
to say.
2 G
450 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' About what, mama ? ' said Kate, who had apparently quite for-
gotten 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 including
your poor 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 unfortunately 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 accidentally 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 fingers — >■ 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 violent start.
' Mama ! what was that ? ' said Kate, in a low tone of voice.
' Upon my word, my dear,' returned Mrs. Nickleby, considerably
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 neighbourhood, 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, laying 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 every-
body 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, and 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
surprise.
'Don't be flurried, my dear,' replied Mrs. Nickleby, looking
THE GENTLEMAN NEXT DOOR APPEARS 451
towards the garden-wall, ' for you see I'm not, and if it would be ex-
cusable 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,' re-
joined Mrs. Nickleby, drawing herself up, and patting hfer 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 sculHing 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.
ff This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another of a
precisely similar description j then a fine vegetable marrow, of
unusually large dimensions, ,was seen to whirl aloft, and come
toppling down ; then, several cucumbers shot up together j 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 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.'
452 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 complacency as if he
were looking out of a window, ' why is it that beauty is always
obdurate, even when admiration is as honorable 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 Barbary 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 ! '
' 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 neighbours'
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 otherwise — ^jealous of your superior charms — interpose
between us ? '
' Kate,' observed Mrs. Nickleby, turning to her daughter, ' it's very
awkward, positively. I really don't know what to say to this gentle-
man. 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 gentleman,
who had watched them during these whispers with absorbing
eagerness, said :
MRS. NICKLEBY'S ADMIRER 453
' 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 neighbour 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 fatfguing perform-
ance, 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 — '
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 Canterbury ? '
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 Com-
missioners 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 Commissioners 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 woiild 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,
454 ^riCHOLAS NICKLEBY
that he fell down two or three steps and grated his chin against the
wall. ' Catch the crystal 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 attendants
all actively engaged in their execution, he turned his velvet cap
inside out, put it on with great dignity so as to obscure 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 with an air of great satis-
faction, and addressed himself with respectful demeanour to
Mrs. Nickleby.
' Beautiful madam,' such were his words, ' if I have made any
mistake with regard to your family or connexions, I humbly beseech
you to pardon me. If I supposed you to be related to Foreign
Powers or Native Boards, it is because you 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 parallel. 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 faintly, and looking
another way.
' I have estates, ma'am,' said the old gentleman, flourishing 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 tlie lining of the crown,
wrapped up in a piece of blue paper. My walking-stick is also to
be seen on application 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 toothpick to the commander-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 enthusiasm,
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
'^^^jf- .ye^iOe-ffia^^'^i&z/ af}i>
vff^ aecC/1'h.'j /u^ //■.a^.y-ion'//?-t -yt
A STRANGE ENTRANCE 455
quite intelligible concerning a balloon he expected, 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.'
' 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 proposals, 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 qualification,) ' 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 myself 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 possible — but it is the case, and they are both grown
up. We shall be very glad to have you for a neighbour — very glad;
delighted, I'm sure — but in any other character it's quite impossible,
quite. As to my being young enough to marry 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 very painful 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 determined long ago to make, and this is
the answer I shall always give.'
These observations were partly addressed to the old gentleman,
partly to Kate, and partly delivered in soliloquy. Towards their
conclusion, the suitor evinced a very irreverent degree of inatten-
tion, 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 grey worsteds
to the fullest advantage, and concluded by standing on one leg, and
repeating his favourite bellow with increased vehemence.
^Vhile he was still dwelling on the last note, and embellishing
43 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 ancles. This done, the companion hand appeared, and
clasped the other ancle.
Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awkwardly
once or twice, as if they were very 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 gruif 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, ' perhaps 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 gentle-
man dropped into a sitting posture, and was looking round to smile
and bow to Mrs. Nickleby, when he disappeared with some precipi-
tation, as if his legs had been pulled from below.
Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning 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 neighbour.
' Beg your 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 creature,'
said Kate.
' 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 ? ' said Kate, compassionately.
A QUESTION OF SANITY 457
' 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 emphati-
cally 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 an ill humour, 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 stedfast look. She now heaved a profound 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 ^ou suppose 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 to possess them-
selves of his property — didn't he say so himself? 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 /lis
madness ; depend upon that, my dear.'
458 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XLII
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 presenti-
ments, 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 fur-
niture 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 under-
stood to belong more particularly to solid lunches, stage-coach
dinners, or unusually substantial breakfasts.
Mr. John Browdie, with his hands in his pockets, hovered rest-
lessly 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 comer of meat, and swallow them
at two gulps like a couple of pills. After every one of these flir-
tations with the eatables, he pulled out his watch, and declared
with an earnestness quite pathetic that he couldn't undertake to
hold out two minutes longer.
' 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 ceiling.
' Hear her say not vary, and us dining at three, and loonching off
pasthry thot aggravates a mon 'stead of pacifying 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.'
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE 459
' 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 ootside 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. Hoc be all wi' ye ? Ding ! But, I'm
glod o' this ! '
Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his salu-
tation, 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 licence, Mr. Browdie,' said Nicholas, as
he placed a chair 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, ' mak' thee-
self quite at whoam, will 'ee ? '
'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 ! Ha ! 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 him-
self by laughing large pieces of beef into his wind-pipe, roared
again, persisted in eating at the same time, got red in the face arid
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 1 '
in a tone bespeaking an exquisite reUsh of the sally, which no
suffering could diminish.
46o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'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 coaxin', 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, colouring 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 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 says, " efther thot, neame the day, and let's have it ower ! " Ha !
ha ! ha ! '
Nicholas laughed very heartily at this story, both on account 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,' said Nicholas, '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.
'IN SCHOOLMEASTHER'S BED' 461
' I have the best reason to be impressed with the feeling, mind,'
said Nicholas ; ' for if it had not been for your kindness 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 Nicholas,
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 tell you hoo gratful soom folks that we do know would
be loikewise, if they know'd I had takken pity on him.'
' 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 lay, snoog in schoolmeasther'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 schoolmeasther, efther a little time. "I'll
brak' every boan in your boddy, Smike," he says, efther another
httle 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. " Have
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, slumming
along oop to his knees in mud and wather, tumbhng over fences,
462 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 com-
municated the contagion to both his hearers, and all three burst
into peals of laughter, which were renewed again and again, until
they could laugh no longer.
' He's a bad 'un,' said John, wiping his eyes ; ' a very bad 'un,
is schoolmeasther.'
' 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, ' dean't I say so, lass ? It's best to be
neighbourly, 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 prin-
ciple 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 reckon.'
' 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 conse-
quence of her being here, that John wrote to you and fixed to-night,
because we thought that it wouldn't be pleasant 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 looking very
EXPLOSION OF MISS SQUEERS 463
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 that cooms nigh it.'
' You were speaking about Miss Squeers,' said Nicholas, with the
view of stopping some slight connubialities which had begun to pass
between Mr. and Mrs. Browdie, and which rendered the position of
a third party in some degree embarrassing, as occasioning him to
feel rather in the way than otherwise.
' Oh yes,' rejpined 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 her 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 engaged 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 engaged 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
blacking and crocking myself by the contract ? Do you, ma'am ?
Do you ? Oh, base and degrading '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
464 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
this last epithet, and brought it out triumphantly at last, as if it
quite clinched the business.) ' This is the hend, is it, of all my
bearing with her deceitfulness, 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 patronise her ? '
' Oh, come,' rejoined Mrs. Browdie, disregarding all the en-
deavours of her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself into a
front row, ' don't talk such nonsense as that.'
' Have I not patronised 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 accumulated
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 shaTit be a bride in a hurry, and
although my husband will be in luck, I entertain 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.
' Oh, ma'am, how witty you are,' retorted Miss Squeers with a low
curtsey, ' almost as witty, ma'am, as you are clever. How very
clever it was in you, 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 ! '
FATE OF LISTENERS 465
' 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 //«> 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 politeness, ' 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 for ever, Miss. I abandon 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 ! 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 them-
selves,' 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 you 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 your goodness, and begging and
praying you not to be hard upon me another time ! '
' I don't know,' resumed Mrs. Browdie, ' that I have said any-
thing 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 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,' escaped her ; and this,
together with a severe biting of the lips, great difficulty in swallow-
ing, 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 Wack-
ford, finding himself unnoticed, and feeling his preponderating
2 H
466 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 gradually mounted to greater, and, after helping
himself to a moderately 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 observed, he feigned to be aware of the circum-
stance for the first time, and inflicted upon the face of that young
gentleman a slap that made the very tea-cups 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.'
' It wean'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 remark-
able capability, too, in that way — and shook his fist stealthily.
' Coom, coom, schoolmeasther,' said John, ' dinnot make a fool
o' thyself; for if I was to sheake mine— only once — thou'd fa'
doon wi' 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 twonty times ower, and twonty
more to^thot ; and I 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* coorch.'
' 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.'
SQUEERS DISCOMFITED 467
' 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, without the honesty, sir.'
' 'Soizes,' 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, looking
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.
' 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 I
he ! Artful and designing 'Tilda ! '
With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most inajestic
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 behind 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 therewith 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 things 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 ! '
468 NICHOMS NICKLEBY
CHAPTER XLIII
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 favourably as, under the
influence of complete tranquillity, cheerful conversation, 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 and religious sense, and with proper
deference and regard to the holy state of matrimony, the two friends,
(Mr. and Mrs. Browdie counting as no more than one), were startled
by the noise of loud and angry threatenings below stairs^ which
presently 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 Saracen'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 variety of expletives no less flatter-
ing to the party addressed, with such great relish and strength of
tone, that a dozen voices raised in concert under any ordinary cir-
cumstances would have made far less uproar and created much
smaller consternation.
' Why, what's the matter ? ' said Nicholas, moving hastily towards
the door.
John Browdie was striding in the same direction when Mrs.
Browdie turned pale, and, leaning back in her chair, requested him
with a faint voice to take notice, that if he ran into any danger it
was her intention to fall into hysterics immediately, 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
SOMEBODY IN DISGUISE 469
' wife's arm under his own, and, tlius accompanied, following Nicholas
down stairs with all speed.
The passage outside the coffee-room door was the scene of dis-
turbance, and here were congregated the coflfee-room customers and
waiters, together with two or three coachmen and helpers from the
yard. These had hastily assembled round a young man who from
his appearance might have been a year or two older than Nicholas,
and who, besides having given utterance to the defiances just now
described, seemed to have proceeded to even greater lengths in his
indignation, inasmuch as his feet had no other covering than a pair
of stockings, while a couple of slippers lay at no great distance from
the head of a prostrate figure in an opposite comer, 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 coachmen,
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 excla-
mations, 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 influence
young men sometimes, 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 1'
cried another fellow.
Disregarding these salhes, 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 him if he ■ found it
nothing.' These and many other expressions of ironical disappro-
bation 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
470 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
their toes, and so forth. But 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 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, anathematising 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 kicked 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 excessive
enjoyment of the scene, so long as only the breaking of heads was
in question, adjured the spectators with great earnestness 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 bystanders.
' Ah ! What did you strike him for ? ' demanded the others.
The unpopular gentleman looked coolly round, and addressing
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 coifee-room when I 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 dis-
respectful, and insolently familiar terms, of a young lady, whom I
recognised from his description and other circumstances, and whom
I have the honor to know. As he spoke loud enough to be over-
heard by the other guests who were present, I informed him most
civilly that he was mistaken in his conjectures, which were of an
offensive nature, and requested him to forbear. He did so for 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, and facilitating his departure by a kick,
THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN EXPLAINS 471
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 proceeding 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 powerfully, 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 considerations, he espoused the young gentle-
man'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 inferior 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 nothing, 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 inirror) declared that it would be a very pretty state of things
indeed; and that if people were to be punis^ied 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, advanc-
ing towards the sash window.
'Nonsense, sir ! ' replied the young lady sharply, smiling 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).
' No, but listen to me,' said the young man. ' If admiration
of a pretty face were criminal, I should be the most hopeless
person alive, for I -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, looking with
472 NICHOLAS NiCKLEfiV
an air of admiration in the bar-maid's face. ' I said so, you ktioW,
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 inquiring 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 communicating it to the hostlers, were
not slow to change their tone too, and the result was, that the
unfortunate victim was bundled 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 recollected 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 favour 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 ! '
' I don't usually call myself the nephew of the firm,' returned
Mr. Frank, good-humouredly ; ' but of the two excellent individuals
who compose it, I am proud to say I am the nephew. And you, I
see, are Mr. Nickleby, of whom I 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 mutual entertainment j 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
LOVE AND SELI' 4? 5
taken place, a hot-headed young man, (which is not an absolute
miracle and phenomenon in nature) was a sprightly, good-humoured,
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 demeanour full
of that heartiness which, to most people who have anything
generous in their composition, is peculiarly prepossessing. Add
to this, that he was good-looking and intelligent, had a plentiful
share of vivacity, was extremely cheerful, and accommodated him-
self in five minutes' time to all John Browdie'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 favourable impression, not only upon the worthy
Yorkshireman and his wife, but upon Nicholas 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-office
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 establishing an agency in the 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 he can give no
information. 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 necessary 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 necessity, and nobly resigned what was beyond
their reach ; as a private 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 renounce a bishopric ?
Here was Nicholas Nickleby, who would have scorned the
thought of counting how the chances stood of his rising in favour
or fortune with the brothers Cheeryble, now that their nephew had
474 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
returned, already deep in calculations whether that same ' nephew
was likely to rival him in the affections of the fair unknown— dis-
cussing 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 young lady, that is ; for elsewhere 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 ever 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 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 Cheer}'ble 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 succes-
sion of tormenting ideas which answered his purpose even better
than the vision of Mr. Frank Cheeiyble, and tantalized and worried
him, walking 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 discharge of his public duty, as the books of
precedent report, invariably risen according to the almanacks, 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 particular to say : ' that
those two young men should haye met last night in that manner is,
I say, a coincidence, a remarkable 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 ! '
TIU IS AN INFANT 4^5
' I don't know about that,' said Mr. Frank ; ' but— '
' Don't know about it, Mr, Francis ! ' interrupted Tim, 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? Vote 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 I was going to
say was, that I hold myself under an obligation 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,' said Tim,
tapping the forefinger of his left hand emphatically with his spec-
tacles, ' 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 fortu-
nate 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, gentlemen, if you
please.'
Tim thought this such an exquisite, unparalleled, and most extra-
ordinary 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 palpably 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 indeed, did the three old fellows after the first burst,)
so perhaps there was as much keen enjoyment and relish in that
4^5 NICHOLAS iSflCK:LEBV
laugh altogether, as the politest assembly ever derived from the
most poignant witticism uttered at any one person's expense.
' Mr. Nickleby,' said brother Charles, calling him aside, and taking
him kindly by the hand, ' I — I — am anxious, my dear sir, to see
that you are properly and comfortably settled in the cottage. We
cannot allow those who serve us well, to labour 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 relieving 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 ardour 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 renewals on the
arrival of their nephew of the kind assurances which the brothers
had given him in his absence, could scarcely feel sufficient admira-
tion and gratitude for such extraordinary 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
hailed it as an omen of her speedy restoration to good society and
the almost-forgotten pleasures of morning calls and evening tea-drink-
ings, she could not, on the other, but reflect with bitterness of spirit
on the absence of a silver teapot with an ivory knob on the lid, and
a milk-jug to match, which 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 colours 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 unfeeling way !
If there is any one thing that vexes me in these losses more than
the losses themselves, I do protest and declare,' said Mrs. Nickleby,
rubbing her nose with an impassioned 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
THOUGHTS OF THE OLD HOME 477
neck, ' why do you say what I know you cannot seriously naean 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 delicious
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, very
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 had been. Dear mama,' said Kate, in great agita-
tion, ' 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 — the 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 happiness 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 mysterious intercourse with
the spirits of those whom we dearly loved in life. Alas ! how
often and how long may those patient angels hover above us,
watching for the spell which is so seldom uttered, and so soon
forgotten !
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, accustomed to give ready utterance to
whatever came uppermost in her mind, had 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 hfe,
brought these recollections so strongly upon Kate that she could
478 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
not suppress them, Mrs. Nickleby began to have a glimmering that
she had been rather thoughtless now and thdn, 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 nosegay 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 garden, or Mrs. Nickleby's in the condition of the
furniture, or Kate's in everything, was nothing to the pride with
which Nicholas looked at Kate herself; and surely the costliest
mansion in all England 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. Cheerybles ; ' as it certainly
was, though not the two Mrs. Nickleby expected, because it was
Mr. Charles Cheeryble, and his nephew, Mr. Frank, who made a
thousand apologies for his intrusion, which Mrs. Nickleby (having
tea-spoons 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 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 dis-
cussion, such as they were ; for young Mr. Cheeryble's recent stay
in Germany happening to be alluded to, old Mr. Cheeryble in-
formed 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 accusation young Mr. Cheeryble most
indignantly repelled, upon which Mrs. Nickleby slily remarked that
she suspected, from the very warmth of the denial, there must be
something in it. Young Mr. Cheeryble then earnestly entreated
SMIKE AN OBJECT OF INTEREST 479
old Mr. Cheeryble to confess that it was all a jest, which old Mr.
Cheer3'ble 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 coloured,' 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
colour at all, it is rather their practice to colour 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
bye-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 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.
Nickleb/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 con-
spicuous place in the calendar of those who shared it.
48o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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?
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 object of enriching
themselves, no matter by what means, and being perfectly conscious
of the baseness and rascality of the means which they will use
every day towards this end, affect nevertheless — even to them-
selves — a high tone of moral rectitude, and shake 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 dirfiest 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 favour. 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 labour.
Ralph Nickleby was not a man of this stamp. Stern, unyielding,
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 hatred, the second.
Affecting to consider himself but a type of all humanity, 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,
GONE OFF 481
and choosing to imagine that all mankind were cast in the same
mould, hated them ; for, though no man hates himself, the coldest
among us having too much self-love for that, yet most men un-
consciously 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.
But the present business of these adventures is with Ralph
himself, who stood regarding Newman Noggs with a heavy frown,
while that worthy took off his fingerless gloves, and, spreading
them carefully on the palm of his left hand, and flattening them
with his right to take the creases out, proceeded to roll them
up with an absent air as if he were utterly regardless of all things
else, in the deep interest of the ceremonial.
' 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 inexpressible delight, in proportion as it annoyed 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.
'France,' 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 I 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 1
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, grinding
his teeth. ' Circumstances conspire to help him. Talk of
2 I
482 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
fortune's favours ! What is even money to such Devil's luck as
this ! '
He thrust his hands impatiently into his pockets, but notwith-
standing his previous reflection there was some consolation there,
for his face relaxed 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 ; ' and if
I know the man (and I should by this time) his wrath will have lost
nothing of its violence in the meanwhile. Obliged to live in retire-
ment — 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 obligations 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 adjusting 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 lingers, 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 miscellaneous
connection, and very odd calls he made, some at great rich houses,
and some at small poor houses, but all upon one subject : money.
RALPH NICKLEBY GOES MONEY-HUNTING 483
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 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 demanded 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 diiificulties that
made good for trade. In short, it would have been difficult to have
recognised 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 repetition of the same com-
plaint, (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 (interrupted
only by a scanty dirmer 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 puckered brow
and firmly-set mouth would have abundantly testified, even if they
had been unaccompanied by a complete indiflference to, or un-
consciousness 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 followed by a shambling figure,
which at one time stole behind him with noiseless footsteps, at
another crept a few paces before 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 intrusive face in some powerful picture or strongly marked dream,
than the scrutiny even of a most interested and anxious observer.
The sky had been lowering and dark for some time, and 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 searchmg look. There was something in the usurer's expression
at the moment, which the man appeared to remember well, for it
4S4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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-favoured by hollow and hungry cheeks deeply
sunburnt, and thick black eyebrows, 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 indefin-
able 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 illusion,
into those of one whom he had known for many years, and for-
gotten 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 which, 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 suppose,
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 your manner, would have decided
me very soon.'
' Did you expect any other ? ' asked Ralph, sharply.
' No 1 ' said the man.
' You were right,' retorted Ralph ; ' and as you feel no surprise,
need express none.'
'Mr. Nickleby,' said the man, bluntly, after a brief pause, during
which he had seemed to struggle 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.'
AN OUTCAST 485
' 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 ot
humanity.'
'Of what? 'said Ralph.
' Of humanity, repUed 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 world for the rich, and just as much coarsd
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 recom-
mend 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 you
were most likely to be found,' resumed the other more humt)ly,
' 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 suppressed
voice, ' since you and I fell out. You remember that ? I claimed
486 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 per cent, or so.'
' I remember 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 pinched
and ground me down for some years before that, but I had served
you faithfully up to that time, in spite of all your dog's usage.
Had I?'
Ralph made no reply.
' Had I ? ' 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 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 upon you, which you would give half of all you
have, to know, and never can know but through me. I left you —
long after that time, remember — 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 have returned what you see me. Now, Mr.
Nickleby,' 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 ? ' 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.
A riA«.VTAiiN ujLUijiiNJiXJ 4»7
' 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, I 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 served me, the world knows and magnifies already. You
could tell it nothing that would surprise it, unless, indeed, it
redounded to my credit or honor, and then it would scout you for
a liar. And yet I don't find business slack, or clients scrupulous.
Quite the contrary. I am reviled or threatened every day by one
man or another,' said Ralph ; ' but things roll on just the same, and
I don't grow poorer either.'
' I neither revile nor threaten,' rejoined the man. ' I can tell
you of what you have lost by my act, what I only can restore, and
what, if I die without restoring, dies with me, and never can 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 I looked sharply after you. You are
welcome to all you have kept from me.'
' Are those of your own name dear to you ? ' said the man
emphatically. ' If they are '
' They are not,' returned Ralph, exasperated at this perseverance,
and the thought of Nicholas, which the last question 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 labour that vagabonds are put to.
There's my answer to your trash. Take it.'
488 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 deliberately 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 which stood the residence of
Madame Mantalini. The name of that lady no longer appeared on
the flaming 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 estab-
lishment 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 ! ' 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 carry family matters to the neighbours, destroy-
ing the credit of the establishment. Come herej 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
MR. MANTALINI POISONED 489
bidding her walk up stairs before him, followed without more
ceremony.
Guided by the noise of a great many voices all talking together,
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 inexplicable scene in
which he suddenly found himself.
There were all the young-lady workers, some with bonnets and
sorne without, in various attitudes expressive of alarni and conster-
nation ; some gathered round Madame Mantalini, who was in tears
upon one chair; and others round Miss Knag, who was in
opposition tears upon another; and others round Mr. Mantalini,
who was perhaps the 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 com-
paratively 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 Mantalini
was not weeping upon the body, but was scolding violently upon
her chair; and all this amidst a clamour of tongues, perfectly
deafening, and which really appeared to have driven the unfortunate
footman to the utmost verge of distraction.
' What is the matter here ? ' said Ralph, pressing forward.
At this inquiry, the clamour 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 volubility, until Madame Mantalini
was seen to address herself 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 Mantalini ; ' 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 sweetness ! ' 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 pretty 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, however,' continued Madame Mantalini, drying her eyes,
490 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
and speaking with great indignation, ' say before you, and before
everybody here, for the first time, and once for all, that I never
will supply that man's extravagances and viciousness 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
he 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 gentleman's gallantries,
deceptions, extravagances, and infideUties (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 having 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 exhibition.'
Miss Knag, who was unquestionably the oldest girl in company,
said with great solemnity, that it would be a warning to her, and so
did the young ladies generally, with the exception 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 rtw in earnest,' rephed Madame Mantalini, aloud, and retreat-
ing toward Miss Knag.
' Well, but consider,' reasoned Ralph, who had a grpat interest in
the matter. ' It would be well to reflect. A married 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 her late employer had secretly come to an amicable under-
standing on this point. ' Very true, indeed, Madame Mantalini—
hem— very true. And I never, was more glad in all my life, that I
had strength of mind to resist matrimonial offers, no matter how
,^J^^m^m -nfv '
,^H/t^' '/uj;7/,//e'/u. //(
'/^tcjo/ui A/-^n^£ii/ /i?t'/i/iiijM:Miftin^.
HARDNESS OF MADAME MANTALINI 491
advantageous, than I am when I think of my present position as
compared with your most unfortunate 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 ? ' r
But the day of Mr. Mantalini's blandishments had departed.
' 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,
finding 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 haying now a considerable
interest in its well-doing, she had sedulously applied herself to the
investigation of some litde 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 Madame
Mantalini was described as ' old ' and ' ordinary,' had most provi-
dentially contributed.
However, notwithstanding her firmness, Madame Mantalini 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 sympathising faces, proceeded to bear her out.
' Nickleby,' said Mr. Mantalini in tears, ' you have been made
a witness to this demnition cruelty, on the part of the demdest
enslaver and captivater that never was, oh dem ! I 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 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 cautiously into
a sitting posture, and confronted Ralph with a very blank face,
49? NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 medita-
tions, 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 extra-
ordinary circumstance (for he had never seen Ralph in a coach in
his life), departed on his errand, and presently returned 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 troubling himself to wonder where or
upon what business they were going, until he chanced by mere
accident to hear Ralph name the address whither the coachman
was to drive.
Quick as lightning and in a state of the most extreme wonder,
Newman darted into his Uttle 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 1 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.'
MRS. NICKLEBY STANDS UPON HER DIGNITY 493
His reflections were interrupted by a grey-haired man of a very
remarkable, though far from prepossessing appearance, who, coming
stealthily toward him, solicited relief.
Newrnan, 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 untwisting the knot with his teeth, the man
said something which attracted his attention ; whatever that some-
thing 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 joyousness,
and looking round him with a ruddy shining face, quite in keeping
with the declaration.
The time at which John found himself 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, knowing of
her son's obligations to the honest Yorkshireman, had, after some
demur, yielded her consent to Mr. and Mrs. Browdie being invited
out to tea ; in the way of which arrangement, 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
ceremonies ; 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.
494 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 omni-
buses 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 gentle-
man'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 Necks. If the
waiter took him for a gentleman's servant, so much the better. Then
all Mrs. Browdie would have to do, would be to send her card back
by the carrier (he could easily come with a double knock), and there's
an end of it.'
' My dear mother,' said Nicholas, ' I don't suppose such un-
sophisticated 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 patronising and mildly-condescending 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
parlour after supper, to wit, at twenty minutes before eleven o'clock,
P.M., that he had never been so happy in all his days.
REVELS OF MRS. NICKLEBY 49s
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 house-
wifery with which she was so obliging as to entertain Mrs. Browdie's
private ear, which were illustrated by various references to the
domestic economy 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-
humoured, the kindest and heartiest creature I 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 niost 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,' returned
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 expressed. . ' This
is quite early for us. We used to keep such hours ! 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 astonishing, and that is just the evil of having a large
connection and being a great deal sought after, which I would
recommend all young married people steadily to resist ; though of
course, and it's perfectly clear, and a very happy thing too, /think,
496 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
that very few young married people can be exposed to such tempta-
tions. 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 extraordinary people for giving the most
extravagant parties, with artificial flowers and champagne, and
variegated lamps, and, in short, every delicacy of eating and drinking
that the most singular epicure could possibly require. I don't think
there ever 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 enter-
tained of the Peltiroguses a most vivid and distinct remembrance ;
and then said that Mr. Browdie had half promised, early in the
evening, that he would sing a Yorkshire 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 possible
grace — for there was patronage in that too, and a kind of implica-
tion that she had a discerning taste in such matters, and was some-
thing of a critic — John Browdie proceeded to consider the words
of some north-country ditty, and to take his wife's recollection
respecting the same. This done, he made divers ungainly move-
ments 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 without 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 counting-house
Avas burnt down, or perhaps ' the Mr. Cheerybles ' had sent to take
Nicholas into partnership (which certainly appeared 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,
MR. BROWDIE INTERVENES 497
but appeared for the moment unable to articulate a syllable. Kate
clung closer to his arm, Smike retreated behind them, and John
Browdie, who had heard of Ralph, and appeared to have no great
difficulty in recognising him, stepped between the old man and his
young friend, as if with the intention 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 you^ said Ralph, ' by your tongue ; and him '
(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 presence 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 withdraw. 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.
' 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, schoolmeasther, show thyself, mun;
dinnot be sheame-feaced. Noo, auld gen'l'man, let's have school-
measther, coom.'
Hearing this adjuration, Mr. Squeers, who had been lingering 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 disposition 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,' said Ralph. ' Take your own time, pray.'
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 very fine tirade of words sent me by that boy of yours,
3 K
498 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
because I don't believe that under his control, you have the slightest
will of your own, 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 jBOtive 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 pleasure of saying them, ' to restore a parent his child. Ay, sir,'
he continued, bending eagerly forward, and addressing Nicholas,
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 ! ' sheered 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 father'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 nothirig ? 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 acknowledgment
of them as much as you please. You'll talk a long time before you
rub them out, Mr. Squeers.'
The estimable gentleman last named, cast a hasty look at the
table, as if he Avere 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 labour of love, Mr. Squeers readily complied,
and leaving the room for the purpose, almost immediately 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
' it. y^nau'ce^ en/i^/i^&> c■n'Aa'i^e9^^al i^t/^/i^/uy-:'
. SMIKE AND MR. SNAWLEY 499
devout thanksgiving, exclaiming, 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.'
' 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.
Mr. Snawley was too much occupied by his parental feelings to
notice this remark ; and, to assure himself more completely 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 ? 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 exception 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 have
done to him in the anger of a father.'
' It only shows what Natur is, sir,' said Mr. Squeers. ' She's a
rum 'un, is Natur.'
' She is a holy thing, sirj remarked Snawley.
' I believe you,' added Mr, Squeers, with a moral sigh. ' 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 o' 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 disgust, doubt, and surprise. At this junc-
ture, 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.
' If you are this boy's father,' said Nicholas, ' look at the wreck
he is, and tell me that you purpose to send him back to that
loathsome den from which I brought him.'
' Scandal again ! ' cried Squeers. ' Recollect ! You an't worth
powder and shot, but I'll be even with you one way or another.'
'Stop,' interposed Ralph, as Snawley was about to speak. ' Let
us cut this matter short, and not bandy words here with hair-brained
goo NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
profligates. This is your son, as you can prove. And you, Mr.
Squeers, 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 ! ' returned Snawley. ' Oh the joy of '
' Be rational, sir, pray,' said Ralph. ' This is business, and
transports interfere with it. This wife died a year and a half ago,
or thereabouts — 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 otherwise than
in your name, only reached you, and that by a circuitous course, a
few days since ? '
' Just so,' said Snawley. ' Correct in every particular, sir.'
' 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 lived, 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 discovery 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 implication, are here, are they ? '
EVIDENCE S6i
' 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 substantiate your
claim at once in law and reason, and you may resume your con-
trol 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 compressing
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 indignant
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 regularly signed as extracts from
the parish books, the first letter had a genuine appearance of having
been written and preserved for some years, the handwriting of the
second taUied 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 nothing 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 myrmidons. 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 commendation,
indeed.'
' Well,' said Squeers, ' what's to be done ? Them hackney-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
503 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Nicholas. 'No. 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 thofi' said John
Browdie bluntly, pointing, as he spoke, to Squeers.
'Never you mind,' retorted that gendeman, tapping his nose
derisively.
' Never I mind ! ' said John. ' No, nor never nobody mind,
say'st thou, schoolmeasther. 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 Nickleby, 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, occasioned by the
prayers and entreaties of Smike, the cries and exclamations of the
women, and the vehemence of the men, demonstrations were made
of carrying 'off the lost son by 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 kindness to
follow your friend.'
' I want my son,' said Snawley.
' Your son,' replied Nicholas, ' chooses for himself. He chooses
to remain here, and he shall.'
' You won't give him up ? ' said Snawley.
' I would not give him up against his will, to be the victim of
. such brutality as that to which you would consign him,' replied
Nicholas, ' 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, somebody, 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 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
MRS. NICKLEBY'S COMPROMISE 503
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 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 proceeded to enhghten
Mrs. Browdie upon the advantages of such a scheme, and the
mihappy results flowing, on all occasions, from her not being
attended to when she proffered her advice.
' You, sir,' said Snawley, addressing the terrified Smike, ' are an
unnatural, ungrateful, unloveable 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 an't
in him.'
Mr. Snawley looked stedfastly 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 in deploring his black in-
gratitude. 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 descendant 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 it. These must be brought down, sir,
lowered, crushed, as they shall be soon. The protracted and wearing
anxiety and expense of the law in its 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 when you make this house a hell, and visit
these trials upon yonder wretched object (as you will, I know you),
and those who think you now a young-fledged hero, we'll go into
go4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 unprecedented, could not refrain
from returning to the parlour-door, and actually cutting some dozen
capers with various wry faces and hideous grimaces, expressive of
his triumphant confidence in the downfall 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 j BUT WHETHER FOR
GOOD OR EVIL, THE READER MUST DETERMINE
After an anxious consideration of the painful and embarrassing
position in which he was placed, Nicholas decided that he ought to
lose no time in frankly stating it to the kind brothers. Availing him-
self of the first opportunity of being alone with Mr. Charles Cheeryble
at the close of next day, 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 dis-
obedience ; even though his horror and dread of his father might
seem, and would doubtless be represented as, a thing so repulsive
and unnatural, as to render those who countenanced him in it, fit
objects of general detestation and abhorrence.
' 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 tall into the very
common mistake, of charging upon Nature, matters with which she
has not the smallest connexion, 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 sorrow, presented to a man who he is told
is his father, and whose first act is to signify his intention of putting
CHARLES IN A HEAT 505
an lend 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, complain 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 moralisings 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 dare say you are surprised, my dear sir, that I have listened to
your recital with so little astonishment. That is easily explained.
Your uncle has been here this morning.'
Nicholas coloured, and drew back a step or two.
'Yes,' said the old gentleman, tapping his desk emphatically,
' 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 calumnies 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. Nickleby — brother Ned, sir, is
a perfect lion. So is Tim Linkinwater ; 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
So6 'NICHOLAS NICICLEBV
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 I'm 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 veriture to put in a
word ; but the moment he essayed to do so, Mr. Cheeryble 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 confidential 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 :
' 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 this mission is a young lady.'
' A young lady, 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 spealc of,' said brother Charks. 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 grey-headed man talk
ACCREDITED TO THE YOUNG LADY 507
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 I 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 happy ; that they fell into complicated
distresses and difficulties ; 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 broken-
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 motives 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
profligacy 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 '
Nicholas started, and indistinctly, apologising for the interruption,
begged his patron to proceed.
' My nephew, Frank, I say,' resumed Mr, Cheeryble,
'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 poverty, 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 reverses, by one faithful creature, who had been, in old times,
a poor kitchen wench in the family, who was then their solitary
5o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
servant, but who might have been for the truth and fidelity of her
heart — who might have been — ah ! the wife of Tim Linkin water
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 proudly resisting all offers of
permanent aid and support from her late mother's friends, because
they were made conditional upon her quitting the wretched man,
her father, who had no friends left, and shrinking 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 misconstruction and ill report, this young girl
had struggled alone and unassisted to maintain him by the labour
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 rejected, or bewailing the
hard lot she had voluntarily incurred. That every little accomplish-
ment 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 indignities 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 labouring in all these capacities and
wearying in none, she had not succeeded in the sole aim and
object of her life, but that, overwhelmed by accumulated diffi-
culties 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 sparkling 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 commonest 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 that brother Ned and I could have, as if she
were our child or sister. But he is still alive. Nobody can help
'AN UNNATURAL SCOUNDREL' 509
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.
'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, con-
fiding creature, and although he wounded her from their marriage
until her death as cruelly and wantonly as ever man did, she never
ceased to love him. She commended 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 miserable with his re-
proaches ; 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 circumstances in
which this young lady is placed. Such assistance as I have pre-
vailed 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 suspect 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
litde drawings and ornamental work, at a high price, and keeping
up a constant demand for the same. For the furtherance of which
end and object it was necessary that somebody should represent
the dealer in such commodities, and after great deliberation they
had pitched upon Nicholas to support this character.
gio NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' He knows me,' said brother Charles, ' and he knows my brother
Ned. Neither of us would do. Frank is a very good felloAv — 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, faUing in love
with her before he well knew his own mind, carry pain and sorrow
into that innocent 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 pos-
sibility of such a thing j and in explanation of its having occurred
to him, he described when and where he had seen the young lady
herself.
'Well; then you see,' continued brother Charles, 'that }ie
wouldn't do. Tim Linkinwater is out of the question; for Tim,
sir, is such a tremendous fellow, that he could never contain him-
self, 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 J 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 never 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 embarrassed
that he had no small difficulty in saying anything 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, however, but that we shall
dispose of these little productions which you'll purchase from time
to time; and, perhaps, if you did it very well (that is, very well
indeed), perhaps she might be brought to beUeve that we — that we
made a profit of them. Eh ? Eh ? '
In this guileless and most kind simplicity, brother Charles was
so happy, and in this possibiUty of the young lady being led to think
that she was under no obligation to him, he evidently felt so
sanguine and had so much dehght, that Nicholas would not breathe
a doubt upon the subject.
QUESTIONS FOR NICHOLAS 511
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
apphed with at least equal force and vaMdity to himself, and a
hundred times had he been upon the point of avowing the real state
of his feelings, and entreating to be released 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 high-minded design? What if I do
love and reverence this good and lovely creature. Should I not
appear a most arrogant and shallow coxcomb if I gravely repre-
sented 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 considera-
tions of self deter me from rendering them ? '
Asking himself such questions as these, Nicholas ^mentally
answered with great emphasis ' No ! ' and persuading himself that
he was a most conscientious and glorious martyr, nobly resolved to
do what, if he had examined his own heart a little more carefully,
he would have found he could not resist. Such is the sleight of
hand by which we juggle with ourselves, and change our very
weaknesses into most magnanimous virtues !
Mr. Cheeryble, being of course wholly unsuspicious that such
reflections were presenting themselves to his young friend, pro-
ceeded to give him the needful credentials and directions for
his first visit, which was to be made next morning ; all preliminaries
being arranged, and the strictest secrecy enjoined, Nicholas walked
home for the night very thoughtfully indeed.
The place to which Mr. Cheeryble 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 obeUsk in Saint George's Fields. The Rules are a certain
liberty adjoining the prison, and comprising 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 enlightened laws whicii-leave the
debtor who can raise no money to starve in jail, without the food,
clothing, lodging,^ or warmth, which are pre-vided for felons con-
victed of the most atrocious crimes that can disgrace humanity.
There are many pleasant fictions of the law in coiistant 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.
512 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
To the row of houses indicated to him by Mr. Charles Cheeryble,
Nicholas directed his steps, without much troubling 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, greengrocery, 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 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 parlouf
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 carpet-
ing on the stairs and faded oil-cloth in the passage ; in addition
to which discomforts a gentleman Ruler was smoking hard in the
front parlour (though it was not yet noon), while the lady of the
house was busily engaged in turpentining tlie disjointed fragments
of a tent-bedstead at the door of the back parlour, as if in pre-
paration for the reception of some new lodger who had been
fortunate enough to engage 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 appearing and
requesting him to follow her, caused him to evince greater symp-
toms of nervousness and disorder than so natural a consequence
of his having 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 dispersed 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 bygone times ; how many struggles had it cost
her to keep these two last links of that broken chain which bound
not yet to home 1 With every slender ornament, the occupation of
.?9taA^y^ /L^/fyU'/ ZHJ^A?^^l^^J^y-^^-U,.
MADELINE'S FATHER 513
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
beyorid 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 a sick man
propped up with pillows in an easy chair, who moving restlessly
and impatiently in his seat, attracted his attention.
He was scarce fifty, perhaps, but so emaciated as to appear
much older. His features presented the remains of a handsome
countenance, but one in which the embers of strong and impetuous
passions were easier to be traced than any expression 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 salutation 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.
3 L
514 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 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 me 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 Nicholas.
Perhaps something of what he thought was expressed in his coun-
tenance, for the sick man turning towards him with great asperity,
demanded to know if he waited for a receipt ?
' It is no matter at all,' said Nicholas.
' No matter ! What do you mean, sir ? ' was the tart rejoinder.
' No matter ! Do you think you bring your paltry money here as
a favour or a gift ; or as a matter of business, and in return for
value received ? D — n youj 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 7" mean, if you please, that we'll have as many forms as
we can,' returned the father. 'My daughter, sir, requires no kind-
ness 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 begin to pity her now, is he ? Upon
my soul ! Very pretty. Madeline, my dear, give him a receipt ;
and mind you always do soi'
While she was feigning to write it, and Nicholas was ruminating
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
A HIGH-MINDED PARENT 515
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 answered
immediately.
'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; I can do without,' said the young lady, with
great eagerness.
' Why, how are we to do without ? ' urged her father, not speak-
ing 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.
' Vou think so, do you ? ' 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 j but as I don't, you may call in a week.'
Nicholas bowed low to the young lady and retired, pondering
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 standing there, and,
glancing timidly towards him, seemed to hesitate whether she should
call him back or no. The best way of settling the question was to
turn back at once, which Nicholas did.
' I don't know whether I do right in asking you, sir,' said Made-
line, 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
favour to myself.'
' You have but to hint a wish,' returned Nicholas, fervently, ' and
I would hazard my life to gratify it.'
' You speak hastily, sir.'
' Truly and sincerely,' rejoined Nicholas, his lips trembling 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
Si6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
and angels must who hear and 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 plainly 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 unworthy his regard, and false
to the nature that prompts the honest words I utter.'
She waved her hand, entreating him to be gone, but answered
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 neighbouring 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 soliloquised; and the soliloquy
referred, as Newman's grumbling soliloquies usually did, to Ralph
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 humour being in some degree restored by the vision of
Ralph Nickleby swallowing, perforce, a five-shilling-piece, Newman
slowly brought forth from his desk one of those portable bottles,
currently known as pocket-pistols, and shaking 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
ARTHUR GRIDE gi?
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 litde bit of hot roast meat spoiling at home all this time— how
does lie 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 addressed
to nothing but smpty air. The recital of his wrongs, however,
seemed to hir. . the effect of making Newman Noggs desperate;
for he flatter d his old hat upon his head, and drawing on the ever-
lasting gloves, declared with great vehemence, that come what might,
he would go to dinner that very minute.
Carrying this resolution into instant effect, he had advanced 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
again.
' 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 ! very nice indeed. Oh ! very nice ! '
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 grey coat with a very narrow
collar, an old-fashioned waistcoat of ribbed black silk, and such
scanty trowsers 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 comphance with an old
fashion scarcely ever observed in these days, his grey 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 colour of
Si8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
a dry winter apple ; and where his beard had been, there lingered
yet a few grey tufts which seemed, like the ragged eyebrows, to
denote the badness of the soil from which they sprung. The whole
air and attitude of the form, was one of stealthy cat-like obsequious-
ness ; the whole expression of the face was concentrated in a
wrinkled leer, compounded of cunning, lecherousness, slyness, and
avarice.
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 interest
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, import-
ing that he very well knew it was not on a mere visit of compUment
that his friend had come. ' It was a narrow chance that you saw
me now, for I had only just come up to the door as you turned the
corner.'
' I am very lucky,' observed Gride.
' So men say,' replied Ralph, drily.
The older money-lender wagged his chin and smiled, but he
originated no new remark, and they sat for some little time without
speaking. Each was looking out to take the other at a disadvantage.
'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 reUeved by Ralph's leading the way to busi-
ness. ' 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 I want the patience for it.'
' You were a. born 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 compliment. You
know I have stood by when you fawned and flattered other people,
and I remember pretty well what that 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 ! '
'm iPffruui
a/ZlAoTV:
GOING TO BE MARRIED 519
' 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 while we're chatting over bygones. Oh dear, dear, what
a man it is ! '
' Which of the bygones 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 agamst all the world. There's
nobody like him. A giant among pigmies, 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 humour 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 money, time is money.'
' He was one of us who made that saying, I should think,' said
Ralph. ' Time is money, and very good money too, to those who
reckon interest by it. Time is money ! Yes, and time 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 immovable face, said,
' What would you say to me, if I was to tell you that I was — that
I was — going to be married ? '
' 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 Hquorish 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 try. 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 ? '
' To some old hag ? ' said Ralph.
'No, no,' cried Arthur, interrupting him, and rubbing his hands
in an ecstacy. ' Wrong, wrong again. Mr. Nickleby for once at
fault : out, quite out ! To a young and beautiful girl ; fresh, lovely,
5^0 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 involuntarily 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?'
' Why, who the devil should there be ? ' retorted Ralph, testily.
' I didn't know but that perhaps somebody might be passing up
or do\yn the stairs,' said Arthur Gride, after looking out at the door
and carefully reclosing it ; 'or but that your man might have come
back and might have been listening 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 is — • '
' Well,' said Ralph, rendered very irritable by old Arthur's 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 reflecting when and where he
had heard it before.
'Bray,' said Ralph. 'Bray — 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 recal any particular dashing man to my recol-
lection 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 ! '
CRIDE IN LOVE S"
' Oh him ! ' rejoined Ralph. ' Ay, ay. Now you speak. Oh !
tt's /lis daughter, is it ? '
Naturally as this was said, it was not said so naturally but that a
kindred spirit like old Arthur Giride might have discerned a design
on the part of Ralph to lead him on to much more explicit state-
ments and explanations than he would have volunteered, or than
Ralph could in all likelihood have 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 arid 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 advantage, 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 acerbity 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 demonstration 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 aifection of which he was capable, yet he loved himself a
522 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
great deal better ; which Ralph said it was quite unnecessary 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 shrivelled old creature before him : which
were, however, sufficiently 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 backwards 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.'
' You 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 lodging 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 very nigh to ruin me, that loss did ! '
' Go on with your 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, 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
GRIDE BARGAINS 523
me? And if he could not resist me, do you think his daughter
could resist him ? Shouldn't I have her Mrs. Arthur 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 prospered with the father,
for this debt of yours. Five shilhngs in the pound, six and eight-
pence, ten shillings? I would 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 ? '
' There'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 enlightened.
'You mean something more, as concerns myself and my intention.
Ay, surely, surely. Shall I mention that ? '
' I thmk you had better,' rejoined Ralph, drily.
' I didn't like to trouble you with that, because I 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 very
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
i;44 NICHOLAS NICICLEBY
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 sufBcient 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 five hundred pounds. That's very little, because
you have the ripe lips, 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, marry her without me if you can. I shall
still get my debt.'
To all entreaties, protestations, and offers of compromise between
his own proposals and those which Arthur Gride had first suggested,
Ralph was deaf as an adder. He would enter into no furtiher dis-
cussion 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 any impression upon his staunch friend, Arthur
Gride, who had prepared himself for some such result before he
came, consented with a heavy heart to the proposed treaty, and
upon the spot filled up the bond required (Ralph kept such in-
struments handy), after exacting the condition that TMr. Nickleby
should accompany him to Bray's lodgings that very hour, and open
the negotiation at once, should circumstances appear auspicious and
favourable to their designs.
In pursuance of this last understanding the worthy gentlemen
went out together 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.
OUT OF THE CLOSET 525
' I have no appetite now,' said Newman, putting the flask in his
pocket. ' I've had my 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 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, recUned 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 I 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.'
526 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Think then, 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 rejection of these proposals
of my friend.'
'How can I accept or reject?' interrupted Mr. Bray, with an
irritable consciousness 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 wish.'
' 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 ? Why
should I hint, and beat about the bush ? Do you suppose, like her
mother's friends and my enemies — a. 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 relative positions should be changed,
and that she should command 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 commanding.'
' Why, of course it would,' returned Mr. Bray, in an exasperated
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, although they had power and
wealth on their side, by my will alone.'
' Still,' rejoined Ralph, as mildly as his nature would allow him,
' you have not heard me out. You are a man yet qualified to shuie
in society, with many years of life before you j that is, if you lived
in freer air, and under brighter skies, and chose your own com-
panions. Gaiety is your element, you have shone in it before.
Fashion and freedom for you. France, and an annuity that would
support you there in luxury, would give you a new lease of hfe,
would transfer you to a new existence. The town rang with your
expensive pleasures once, and you could blaze on a new scene
again, profiting by experience, and living a Uttle 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.'
RALPH AND MR. BRAY 527
Mr. Bray rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, and shaded
his face with his hand.
' I speak plainly,' 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 to such a step ? Keep
that in view. She might object, remonstrate, 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 demeanour 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 people 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, or secure some seat
in Parliament ! Judge for her, sir, judge for her. You must know
best, and she will live to thank you.'
' Hush ! hush ! ' cried Mr. Bray, suddenly starting up, and
covering Ralph's mouth with his trembling hand. 'I hear her
at the door ! '
There was a gleam of conscience in the shame and terror of this
hasty 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 guj^to be composed, assuring her that there was no cause
for fear. ^^
528 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'A sudden spasm,' said Ralph, glancing at Mr. Bray. 'He is
quite well now.'
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 sympathy 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 say,' 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 over-task your strength. This wretched
life, my love, of daily labour and fatigue, is more than you can bear.
I am sure of it. Poor Madeline ! '
With these and many more kind words, Mr. Bray drew his
daughter to him and kissed her cheek affectionately. Ralph, watch-
ing 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 daughter 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 ! If the young lady would condescend ! Only the tips
of her fingers ! ' said Arthur, hesitating and half retreating.
Madeline shrunk involuntarily froili the goblin figui^ but she
placed the tips of her fingers in his hand and instant]^ withdrew
RALPH'S CONCLUSIONS 529
them. After an ineffectual clutch, intended to detain and carry
them to his lips, old Arthur gave his own fingers 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 ? '
' I 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 stooping over him !
Such long lashes, such delicate fringe ! She — she — looked at me
so soft.'
' Not over-lovingly, I think ? ' said Ralph. ' Did she ? '
' No, you think not ? ' replied old Arthur. ' But don't you think
it can be brought about ? ' Don't you think it can ? '
Ralph looked at him with a contemptuous frown, and replied with
a sneer, and between his teeth :
' Did you mark his telling her she was tired and did too much,
and over-tasked 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 deceive him-
self, 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 surprise in her eye. There'll be a few
more tears of surprise there before long, though of a different kind,
Oh ! we may wait with confidence for this day week.'
CHAPTER XLVIII
BEING FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. VINCENT CRUMMLES, AND POSI-
TIVELY 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 Brothers. Whatever the idle
a M
530 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
hopes he had suffered himself to entertain, whatever the pleasant
visions which had sprung up in his mind and grouped themselves
round the fair image of Madeline Bray, they were now dispelled,
and not a vestige of their gaiety and brightness remained.
It would be a poor compliment to Nicholas's better nature, and
one which he was very far from deserving, to insinuate that the
solution, and such a solution, of the mystery which had seemed to
surround Madeline Bray, when he was ignorant even of her name,
had damped his ardour or cooled the fervour of his admiration. If
he had regarded her before, with such a passion as young men
attracted by mere beauty and elegance 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
loneliness of her situation, sympathy with the trials ot 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 imposed upon me most
scrupulously and strictly. My secret feelings deserve no considera-
tion 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 right to entertain himself with them as a
reward for his heroism.
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 Tom Linkinwater
suspected he must have made the mistake 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 broughrto
state that he was never memer in his hfe j 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 uncertain state, people are apt to
lounge and loiter without knowing why, to read placards on the
walls with great attention and without the smallest idea of one word
of th^ir contents, and to stare most earnestly through shop-windows
A LARGE PLAY-BILL S3t
at things which they don't see. It was thus that Nicholas found
himself poring with the Utmost 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 hsnefit, with as much gravity as if
it had been a catalogue of the nai/iks of those ladies and gentlemen
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 Celebrity ! ! ! '
' Nonsense ! ' said Nicholas, turning back again. ' It can't be.'
But there it was. In one line by itself was an announcement of
the first night of a new melo-drama ; 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 unrivalled African Knife'
swaUower, who had kindly suffered himself to be prevailed upon to
forego his country erigagements for one week longer ; a fourth line
announced that Mr. Snittle Timberry, having recovered from his
late severe irtdisposition, 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 — iAei'r last appearances
— and that, incidental to the piece, was a characteristic dance by
the characters, and a Castanet pas seul by the Infant Phenomenon
— Aer last appearance — 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 with a very large belt and buckle round his
waist, and very large leather gauntlets on his hands, into the
preJience of his former manager.
Mr. Crummies was unfeignedly glad to see him, and starting up
from before a small dressmg-glass, with one very bushy eyebrow
stuck on crooked over his left eye, 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-bye before they went.
' You were always a favourite of hers, Johnson,' said Crummies,
' always were from the first, I was quite easy in my mind about
532 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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. ' But where are you going, that you
talk about bidding good-bye ? ' ^
' Haven't you seen it in the papers ? ' said Crummies, with some
dignity.
' No,' replied Nicholas.
' I wonder at that,' 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 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 favourably known to fame
as a country manager and actor of no ordinary pretensions, is about
to cross the Atlantic on a histrionic expedition. 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 correspondents,
this one.'
Nicholas read it aloud. ' " Philo-Dramaticus. Crummies, the
country 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 gravity, and remarking, that he could
not for the life of him imagine how the newspapers 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. ' Going 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.
PROSPECTS OF THE CRUMMLESES 553
Crummies — most extraordinary woman, Johnson.' Here he broke
off and whispered something in his ear.
' Oh ! ' said Nicholas, smiling. ' The prospect of an addition to
your family ? '
' The seventh addition, Johnson,' returned Mr. Crummies,
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.'
' I congratulate you,' said Nicholas, ' and I hope this may prove a
phenomenon too.'
'Why, it's pretty sure to be something uncommon, I suppose,'
rejoined Mr. Crummies. ' The talent of the other three is princi-
pally in combat and serious pantomime. I should like this one to
have a turn for juvenile tragedy ; 1 understand they want something
of that sort in America very much. 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 a 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 flesh-colour, 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. Crummies could scarcely
hope to act for ever (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 resolution, Mr. Crummies went on to
impart such further intelligence 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 acquaintance.
After congratulating him with great heartiness on the improved
534 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 neighbouring tavern ; at which Mr. Snittle Tim-
berry would preside, while the honors of the vice-chair would be
sustained by the African Swallower.
The room being by this 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 doorsto
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 remembrance for
Mr. Crummies, and having purchased besides a pair of ear-rings
for Mrs. Crummies, a necklace for the Phenomenon, and a flaming
shirt-pin for each of the young gentlemen, 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 himself.'
'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 ; is 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 Nicholas
to Mr. Timberry. ' I hope you are none the worse for your
exertions to-night ? '
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
UNLOOKED-FOR JOY 535
strait involving the very last extremity of weakness and exhaustion,
they invariably perform feats of strength requiring great ingenuity
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 door for aid, in such a series of writh-
ings 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 posture-making. And so natural did this sort of per-
formance 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,' pre-
senting the Masters Crummies. '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, shakirig 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
him, and that while he thinks to torture me, he inflicts on him
such agonies of terror and suspense as You will excuse roe,
I am sure,' said Nicholas, checking himself. ' I should never speak
of this, and never do, except to those who Icnow the facts, but for a
moment I forgot myself.'
With this hasty apology Nicholas stooped down to salute the
Phenomenon, and changed the subject ; inwardly cursing his pre-
cipitation, and very much wondering what Mrs. Crummies must
think of so sudden an explosion.
The lady seemed to think very little about it, for the supper
being by this time on table, she gave her hand to Nicholas and
536 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
repaired wfth a stately step to the left hand of Mr. Snittle Timberry.
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 profession, then
engaged or disengaged in London, as were numbered among the
most intimate friends of Mr. and Mrs. Crammles. 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 indepen-
dently of the lesser theatrical lights who clustered on this occasion
round Mr. Snittle Timberry, there was a literary gentleman present
who had dramatised 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 eulogiura upon his fame and reputation.
' I am happy to know a gentleman of such great distinction,' said
Nicholas, politely.
' Sir,' replied the wit, ' you're very welcome, I'm sure. The
honor is reciprocal, sir, as I usually say when I dramatise 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 dramatise a book, sir,' said the literary gentleman,
' ihafs fame. For its author.'
' Oh, indeed ! ' rejoined Nicholas.
' That's fame, sir,' said the literary gentleman.
'So Richard Turpin, Tom King, and Jerry Abershaw have
handed down to fame the names of those on whom they committed
their most impudent robberies ? ' said Nicholas.
'I don't know anything about that, sir,' answered the literary
gentleman.
'Shakspeare dramatised 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 Shakspeare 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 gentleman, leaning
i \ A DlSTlNGtJISHfiD DRAMATIST S3?
jback in his chair and exercising his toothpick. 'Human intellect,
sir, has progressed since his time, is progressing, 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 purpose, 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 purposes 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 carve
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 projector, but which
have doubtless cost him many thoughtful days and sleepless nights ;
by a comparison of incidents and dialogue, down to the very 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 honorable
distinction annexed, of having perpetrated a hundred other outrages
of the same description. Now, show me the 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 literary 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 opportunely inter-
posed 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
538 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
about, the guests, who had been previously conversing in little
groups of three or four, gradually fell oif into a dead silence, while
the majority of those present, glanced from time to time at Mr.
Snittle Timberry, and the bolder spirits did not even hesitate to
strike the table with their knuckles, and plainly intimate their
expectations, by uttering such encouragements as 'Now, Tim,'
'Wake up, Mr. Chairman,' 'AH charged, sir, and waiting for a
toast,' and so forth.
To these remonstrances, Mr. Timberry deigned no other rejoinder
than striking his chest and gasping for breath, and ^ving many
other indications of being still the victim of indisposition— 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 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. Crummies to grasp the same. This
done, 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
Crummleses, which he didj after which Mr. Vincent Crummies,
as their father, addressed the company in a supplementary speech,
enlarging on their virtues, amiabilities, and excellences, 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 gentle-
man was then about to be drunk, but it being discovered that he
had been drunk for some time in another acceptation of the term,
FAREWELL TO CRUMMLES 539
and was then asleep on the stairs, the intention was abandoned,
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-bye 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 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 very 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 extraordinary 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 Crummleses.
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 thoughts of Madeline Bray, and in execution of the com-
missions which the anxiety of brother Charles in her beha,lf 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
S4<3 NICHOLAS NIC^LEBY
lofty resolutions he had formed, Mrs. Nickleby and Kate cotitinued
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 Smike
himself, whose health, long upon the wane, began to be so much
affected by apprehension and uncertainty as sometimes to occasion
both them and Nicholas considerable uneasiness, 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 always 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 between 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 himself, that
Nicholas had already carried his faithful companion to a physician
of great repute. There was no cause for immediate 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 might not be — and that was all.
But he seemed to grow no worse, and, as it was not difficult 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 with a quiet smile that he felt
better than he had upon the day before, their fears abated, and the
general happiness was by degrees restored.
HOMELY SCENES 541
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 summer evening, or beside 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 days, 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 recollections,
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 shunning all flighty antici-
padons 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 litrie 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 going in his evening walks, and stopping to rest ; while
Mr. Frank Cheeryble 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.
542 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Attentive, mama ! ' rejoined Kate.
' Bless my heart, Kate ! ' cried Mrs. Nickleby, with her wonted
suddenness, 'what a colour 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, colouring again ; and
this time beyond all dispute.
' Not serious ! ' returned Mrs. Nickleby ; ' why shouldn't I be
serious ? I'm sure I never was more serious. I will say that his
politeness and attention to me is one of the most becoming, gratify-
ing, pleasant things I have seen for a very long time. You don't
often meet with such behaviour 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 extraordinary
girl you are!. Was it likely I should be talking of his attention to
anybody else ? I declare I'm 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 we be sorry if it is the case ? What is it to us, mama ? '
' Nothing to us, Kate, perhaps,' said Mrs. Nickleby emphatically ;
'but something to me, I confess. I like English people to be
thorough English people, and not half English and half I don't know
what. I shall tell him point-blank next time he comes, that I wish
he would marry one of his own countrywomen ; and see what he
says to that.'
' 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 httle 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
SOMETHING WRONG WITH SMIKE 543
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. Nickleby.
' I should think he was,' returned Miss La Creevy ; ' especially
as young Mr. Cheeryble 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 very 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 inquiry, it turned out, to the good lady's unbounded
astonishment, that Smike had, that moment, gone up stairs to bed.
' Well now,' said Mrs. Nicldeby, ' he is the strangest creature !
Last Tuesday^ — was it Tuesday? Yes to be sure it was; you
recollect, Kate, my dear, the very last time young Mr. Cheeryble
was here — last Tuesday night he went off in just the same strange
way, at the very moment the knock came to the door. It cannot
be that he don't like 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 because 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 pro-
foundly 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 conduct 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 creatures. One of them had some
connexion with our family. I forget, without looking back to sorne
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
544 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 behaving 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.
' I 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 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 observable that she addressed them
exclusively to Tim Linkinwater ; and there was, besides, a certain
embarrassment in her manner, which, although 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 under 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 happening to
have her best frock on : ' though I 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 humour 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,
THE TENDER PASSION 545
that Tim was actually induced to declare, that if he could get any-
body 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
very comfortable property of her own ; but this latter qualification
had very little effect upon Tim, who manfully protested that fortune
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 sufficiently
extol it; and stimulated by their praises, Tim launched out into
several other declarations 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 occasion
(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 suitable 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
silence 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 intro-
duced 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
2 N
546 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
knowing in what unaccountable efforts of oratory Mrs. Nickleby's
apprehensions might have been vented, if the general attention had
not been attracted, at the moment, by a very strange and uncommon
noise, proceeding, as the pale and trembling servant-girl affirmed,
and as everybody's sense of hearing seemed to affirm also, ' right
down ' the chimney of the adjoining room.
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 question ; and the
noise (which was a strange compound of various shuffling, sliding,
rumbling, and struggling sounds, all muffled by the chimney) still
continuing, Frank Cheeryble caught up a candle, and Tim Linkin-
water the tongs, and they would have very quiclily ascertained the
cause of this disturbance if Mrs. Nickleby had not been taken very
faint^ and declined being left behind, on any account. This pro-
duced a short remonstrance, which terminated in their all proceed-
ing 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 suiprised to hear a human voice, chaunting with a highly
elaborated expression of melancholy, and in tones of suffiacation
which a human voice might have produced 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 proceeded from tiie 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 the
top bar whereon to effect a landing.
A sight so unusual and unbusiness-like as this, completely para-
lysed 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 sharpening 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 demanded to know whether the mysterious
limbs were not clad in small-clothes and grey worsted stockings, or
whether her eyes had deceived her?
'Z^i.C-n^
'DON'T HURT A HAIR OF HIS HEAD' 547
' Yes,' cried Frank, looking a little closer. ' Small-clothes cer-
tainly, and — and — ^rough grey stockings, too. Do you know him,
ma'am ? '
' Kate, my dear,' said Mrs. Nickleby, 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 kinds 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 anything I was ever exposed
to, before I married your poor dear papa, 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 Svmday, 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 effusion 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 irrepressible
astonishment, first at each other and then at Kate, who felt that
some explanation was necessary, but who, between 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, was quite unable to utter asingle
word.
' He gives me great pain,' continued Mrs. Nickleby, drying 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, under existing circumstances, have been quite so
easy to hurt a hair of the gentleman's head as Mrs. Nickleby seemed
to imagine, inasmuch as that part of his person was some feet up the
chimney, which was 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
548 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
task of difificulty, 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 tenderness 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 his 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,'
continued Mrs. Nickleby, drawing herself up, and looking another
way with a kind of bashful stateliness ; ' this gentleman will under-
stand 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 dreadful 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 behaviour 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
A MOST MELODIOUS BELLOW 549
upon the ground with his arms folded, eyeing the spectators in
profound silence, and with a very majestic demeanour. 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 requested to be served
with a fricassee of boot-tops and goldfish 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 impressed 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 bellowing. 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 demeanour which 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 ! j I 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 gentieman, 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 Diamonds ? No. In Mrs.
Rowland, who every morning bathes in Kalydor for nothing ? No,
5^0 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 favourable opportunity of explanation, she went about
it straight.
' I am sure,' said the worthy lady, with a prefatory cough, ' that
it's a great relief, under such trying circumstances as these, to have
anybody else mistaken for me — a very great rehef; 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 foolish, 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 be very hard indeed if 1 was td be made
responsible for it. However, iii 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 un-
comfortable on my account. And therefore! think it my duty to
tell that gentleman that he is mistaken, that I am the lady who he
was told by some impertinent person was niece to. the. Council of
Paving-stones, arid that I do beg arid .jntreat. of him to go quietly
away, if it's only for,' here Mrs. Nickleby simpered and hesitated;
' for Ply sake.'
It might have been expected that the old gendeman would have
been penetrated to the heart by the delicacy and condescension
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, accostmg her in the most unmistakeable 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 gentkman swung his
arms violentiy round and round, and at the same time alternately
advanced on Mrs. Nickleby, and retreated from her, in that species
of savage dance with which 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 exclamation 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
SOME SLIGHT INCOHERENCE SJi
Miss La Cr.eevy 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 Linkin-
water 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.'
' Yoti 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 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 Nicholas, 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. However, I have my 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 receive the escort,
who 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 neighbourly
irruption, they entertained the least fear of being left to themselves.
As their freedom from all further apprehension, however, left no-
552 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
pretext for his insisting 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 sitting 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
gaily, ' to make time pass away like that. What were they now ? '
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 with-
out the slightest consciousness or application, which so alarmed
his sister, that Nicholas laughingly changed the subject 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 reluctance.
' 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, confronted them.
' And have you not been to bed ? ' said Nicholas.
' No — 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.'
' I 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
HAMPTON RACE-COURSE 553
CHAPTER L
INVOLVES A SERIOUS CATASTROPHE
The little race-course at Hampton was in the full tide and height
of its gaiety ; the day as dazzling as day could be ; the sun high in
the cloudless sky, and shining in its fullest splendour. Every gaudy
colour 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 sen-
timent 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 j 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 expectant faces, and the
other deaden all consciousness of more annoying sounds in those
of mirth and exhilaration. Even the sunburnt faces of gipsy chil-
dren, 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 ari chil-
dren, 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 distortions,
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 childhood is, and give them the
exhaustion and infirmity of age, without, hke 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 breaking up and
pouring into it, imparted a new liveUness to the scene, which was
again all. busy movement. Some, hurried eagerly to catch a glimpse
of the winning horse ; others darted to and fro, searching, no less
eagerly, for the carriages 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 pro-
prietor with his confederates in various disguises — one man in
spectacles, another, with an eye-glass and a stylish hat; a third,
S54 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 innocent 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 furtive 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 fortune-
telling women smothering the cries of real babies, divided with
them, and many more, the general attention of the company.
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 recently 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 splendour of carpeted ground, striped hangings, crimson
cloth, pinnacled roofs, geranium pots, and livery servants. There
were the Stranger's club-house, the Athenaeum club-house, the
Hampton club-house, the Saint James's club-house, half-a-mile of
club-houses, to play in ; and there were rouge-d-7wir, 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 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 ^ith 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 amuse-
ment of the day, with no very great interest in winning or losing.
There were two persons present, however, 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
'MAKE YOUR GAME, GENTLEMEN' 555
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 perpetual 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 observer, 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
corne 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 anything
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 j not a winner or loser
he could not have marked. And he was the proprietor of the
place.
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 under-lip 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 colour 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 per-
petually 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
5s6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 1 — 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 — gentle-
men, 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 comfortable, 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,' (recognising some knowing
gentleman without any halt or change of voice, and giving a wink
so slight that it seems an accident), ' will you take a glass of sherry,
sir — here, wai-ter ! bring a clean glass, and 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 work, he bowed respectfiilly ; 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 evidently 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 with 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 recognised, as he was
almost every minute by people sauntering in and out, he made a
TO-MORROW'S INTENDED BUSINESS 557
restless effort to conceal it with his glove ; 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 Frederick ?
He's a little pulled down, our friend here. Rather out of con-
dition 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 Frederick.
Sir Mulberry turned away to speak to one of his own party, and
feigned not to hear.
'Now, upon my hfe,' 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? ^Vhy 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. FaUing, 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 MuU
berry 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
SS8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
manner which galled Sir -Mulberry: to AM, 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 staunch one ; he was back with me before the messenger.
I had it all from him in the first five minutes. I know where this
hound is to be met with; time and place both. But there's no
need to talk ; to-morrow will soon be here.'
' And wha-at's to be done to-morrow ? ' inquired Lord Frederick.
Sir Mulberry Hawk honored him with an angry glance, but con-
descended 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.'
' Musf 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 humour 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,' replied 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 subject. He soon
overcame this feeling, however, if it had restrained 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, witli 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 Mulberry j ' 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 mine ; I will
ADVICE REJECTED SS9
make it mine. It's mine already, I am 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 humour. ' Surely that must con-
tent 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 carriage. 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 dis-
position in this mode of treating him. Sir Mulberry clearly saw
that if his dominion were to last, it must be established' 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 circumstance 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 mortification of being
compelled to suppress his feelings, with additional 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 contempt ; but, now, that he presumed to avow
opinions in oppositioii 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
dependent 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 began to hate him cordially.
On the other hand, the young 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 Mulberry's coarse and insulting
behaviour on the occasion in question had produced a deep impres-
sion OH his mind ; a strong suspicion of his having led him on to
56o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 sufiScient 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 oppor-
tunity. Slight circumstances, too, had occurred to increase his
suspicion. It wanted but a very slight circumstance 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 dislike
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 Mul-
berry, 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 Chowser, and other gentlemen of the same caste were
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 withdrawing
himself from the connection immediately. By degrees, he grew
more angry, and was exasperated by jests and familiarities, 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 gentlemen frequently protesting on the way thither,
that Sir Mulberry had never been in such tiptop spirits in all his
Hfe.
They dined together, sumptuously. The wme flowed freely, as
indeed it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank, to 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. a
Here, they encountered another party, mad like themselves. 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 intoxication 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
.^^^"^
■ irSSli .TSr^J I
^ 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 inflam-
mation, and staring at Nicholas with all his might and main mean-
while.
Admiring what could have wound his friend up to such a pitch
of mystery, Nicholas endeavoured, by a series of questions, to
elucidate the cause; but in vain. Newman could not be drawn
into any more explicit statement, than a repetition of the perplexi-
ties 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 corre-
spondent; 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 acquaintance, as men
sometimes do, and tracing out the litde 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. ' What Madeline ? Her other
name. Say her other name.'
' Bray,' said Nicholas, in great astonishment.
' It's the same ! ' cried Newman. ' Sad story ! 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, 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 grey 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
oiit a hand to rescue her, are far away. What is it that you
mean ? '
• I never heard her name,' said Newnian, choking with his energy.
NICHOLAS IN DESPAIR 575
'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 Newman Noggs
hiniself, 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 paleness, and
trembling in every limb, he darted from the house.
' Stop him ! ' cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit. ' He'll be
doing somethmg desperate ; he'll murder somebody. Hallo ! there,
stop him. Stop thief ! stop thief ! '
CHAPTER LII
NICHOLAS DESPAIRS OF RESCUING MADELINE BRAY, BUT PLUCKS
UP HIS SPIRITS AGAIN, AND DETERMINES TO ATTEMPT IT.
DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE OF THE KENWIGSES AND LILLYVICKS
Finding that Newman was determined to arrest his progress at
any hazard, and apprehensive that some well-intentioned passenger
attracted by the cry of ' stop thief,' might lay violent hands upon
his person, and place him in a disagreeable predicament from which
he might have some difBculty 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, indeed.'
' 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
576 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
head against many trials; but the misery of another, 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 circumstance of the
compact between Ralph Nickleby and Gride would not invalidate
the marriage, or render 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 sufficient 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
involved in utter darkness.
' There seems no ray of hope,' said Nicholas.
' The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, for consideration,
for thought,' said Newman, pausing at every alternate 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 them.
With the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and return would take
three days and nights.'
' Their nephew,' said Newman, ' their old clerk.'
' What could either do, that I cannot ? ' rejoined Nicholas.
' 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 demons 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 something, 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 probability, almost amounting
to certainty itself, that a few hours would place Madeline Bray for
HOPING AGAINST HOPE 577
ever beyond his reach, consign her to unspeakable misery, and
perhaps to an untimely death : all this quite stunned and over-
whelmed 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 ad-
miration for 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 remonstrance,
and such sincerity and fervour 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 :
' You read me a good lesson,. Newman, and I will profit by it.
One step, at least, I may take — am bound to take indeed — 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 t'aey 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 brinlc of ruin.'
' Bravely spoken ! ' said Newman. ' Well done, well done ! Yes.
Very good.'
' And I do declare,' cried Nicholas, with honest enthusiasm, ' that
in this effort I am influenced by no selfish or personal considera-
tions, but by pity for her, and detestation and abhorrence of this
scheme ; and that I would do the same, were there twenty rivals in
the field, and I the last and least favoured of them all.'
' You 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 ! '
2 P
578 . NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace, and,
plunging into the 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 said hope, I think ! Ralph Nickleby and Gride
with their heads together ! And hope for the opposite party !
Ho ! ho ! '
It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggs con-
cluded 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.
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 dancing-master of extensive connection for the ac-
commodation of his numerous pupils, and the pupils displaying their
appreciation 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 neighbour 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 determination 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 coming-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 Morleena'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
MRS. KENWIGS'S VEXATION 579
daughters of all other people, anything less than which would be
tantamount to defeat. This discovery drove Mrs. Kenwigs to
despair ; for the hair-dresser lived three streets and eight dangerous
crossings off; Morleena could not be trusted to go there alone,
even if such a proceeding were strictly proper: of which Mrs.
Kenwigs had her doubts; Mr. Kenwigs had not returned 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 I have, this night, for your good.'
' I can't help it, ma,' replied Morleena, also in tears ; ' my hair
wU/ grow.'
' Don't talk to me, you naughty thing ! ' said Mrs. Kenwigs, ' 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 almbitious neighbour, ' 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 Kenwigs 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. Kenwigs, gaining
new hope from the sound of his footsteps, hastily removed from
her countenance as many traces of her late emotion as were efface-
able on so short a notice : and presenting herself before him, and
representing their dilemma : entreated that he would escort Morleena
to the hair-dresser's shop.
' I wouldn't ask you, 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 favour 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 have called it a barber's;
for they not only cut and curled ladies elegantly, and children
carefully, but shaved gentlemen easily. Still, it was a highly
58o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
genteel establishment- — quite first-rate in fact — and there were dis-
played in the window, besides other elegancies, waxen busts of a
light lady and a dark gentleman which were the admiration of the
whole neighbourhood. Indeed, some ladies had gone so far as
to assert, that the dark gentleman 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 — encouraged the idea. The better informed among the
sex, however, made light of this assertion, for however wiUing they
were (and they were very willing) to do full justice to the hand-
some 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, realised sometimes, 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 Ken-
wigs in safety. The proprietor, knowing that Miss Kenwigs 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 over to the
journeyman, (who was not very popular 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-humoured 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 doubt-
fully 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.
'We don't shave gentlemen in your line,' remarked the young
proprietor.
' Why, I see you a shaving of a baker, when I was a looking
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. 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 de-
preciation 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.
_ wll
Jy'-^ru/~^.rc/y/'/yi^'f/yj/t^//^ij./'U>r^^^^ ^/'/ me /^z^'t /:^ie^^C'M^.
MR. LILLYVICK BROUGHT LOW 581
The old gentleman who had just been lathered, and who was
sitting in a melancholy manner with his face turned towards the
wall, appeared quite unconscious of this incident, and to be in-
sensible to everything around him in the depth of a reverie — a very
mournful one, to judge from the sighs he occasionally vented — iti
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 features of Mr. Lillyvick the collector.
The features of Mr. Lillyvick they were, but strangely altered.
If ever an old gentleman had made a point of appearing 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 portentous dignity as if he had the
world on his books and it was all two quarters in arrear, that collector
was Mr. Lillyvick. And now, there h^ sat, with the remains of a
beard at least a week old, encurrtbering his chin; a soiled and
crumpled shirt-frill crouching, as it were, upon his breast, instead
of standing boldly out ; a demeanour so abashed and drooping, so ,
despondent, and expressive of humiliation, grief, and shame ; that
if the souls of forty unsubstantial housekeepers, all of whom had'
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 expressed in
the person of Mr. Lillyvick the collector.
Newman Noggs uttered 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. 1
' Matter, sir ! ' cried Mr. Lillyvick. ' The plug of life is dry, sir, /
and but the mud is left.' »
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 Moorleena ; 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.
S82 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' It ain't a very nasty one,' returned Newman, rather embarrassed
"\ 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 ? '
This was a puzzling inquiry ; but Newman evaded it, by replying
to Mr. Lillyvick, that he thought the baby might possibly 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 "repUed in a solemn voice, ' Let me be
shaved ! ' and again consigning himself to the hands of the journey-
man, said no more.
This was remarkable behaviour. 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 forbear looking
round, some score of times, during the foregoing colloquy. Of her,
J 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
r wondered very much what could have occasioned this altered
behaviour 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 gentle-
man, 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 observation. 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 Morleena,
' 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.
AN AFFECTING PICTURE 585
'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. Lillyvick
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 perjured relative, Mrs. Kenwigs turned
faint and pale, and Mr. Kenwigs rose majestically.
' Kenwigs,' said the collector, f 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 surweys me. The
time has been, sir,' said Mr. Kenwigs, ' when a wisit from that man
has excited in me and my family'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 the table
emphatically. ' What with the nursing of 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 Kehwigses 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 expected,'
said Mr. Kenwigs, mournfully; ' was a thinking, " if it's a boy, as I
liope 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
helpless 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 cooing, 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 wengeance comes over me as no language
can depicter, and I feel as if even that holy babe was a telling me
to hate him.'
584 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
■ This affecting picture moved Mrs. Kenwigs deeply. After several
imperfect words, >yhich 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 ! '
' 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 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 been rendered uncomfortable
and fractious, Morleena has pined herself away to nothing ; all this
I 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 J 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. Lillyvick
had signed to him not to withdraw, and Mr. Kenwigs had further
solicited his presence by a nod of invitation. When Mrs. Kenwigs
had been, in some degree, restored, and Newman, as a person pos-
sessed of some influence 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 captain ! '
Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs started together.
• Eloped with a half-pay captain,' repeated Mr. Lillyvick. ' Basely
and falsely eloped with a half-pay captain. With a bottle-nosed
captain that any man might have considered himself 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.'
RECONCILIATION S^S
This declaration completely changed the whole posttire 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 Henrietta Petowker. Mr. Kenwigs argued
that she must have been bad indeed not to have improved by so
long a contemplation of Mrs. Kenwigs's virtues. Mrs. Kenwigs
remembered that Mr. Kenwigs had often said that he was not quite
satisfied of the propriety of Miss Petowker's conduct, and wondered
how it was that she could have been blinded by such a wretch.
Mr. Kenwigs remembered that he had had his suspicions, 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 consolation 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, 1 shall, to-morrow morning, settle upon your children,
and make payable to the survivors of them when they come of age
or marry, that money which I once meant to leave 'em in my will.
The deed shall be executed to-morrow, and Mr. Noggs shall be
one of the witnesses. He hears me promise this, and he shall see
it done.'
Overpowered by this noble and generous offer, Mr. Kenwigs,
Mrs. Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena Kenwigs, all began to sob
together ; and the noise of their sobbing, communicating 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. Lillyvick, 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 humoured 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 misse^ them first — it's a trial — I feel I
shall never be able to knock a double knock again, when I go my
586 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
rounds — don't say anything more about it, please — the spoons were
vvorth — never mind — never mind ! '
With such muttered outpourings as these, the old gentleman shed
a few tears ; but they got him into the elbow-chair, and prevailed
upon him, without much pressing, to make a hearty 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 humble, quite resigned to his fate, and rather
relieved than otherwise by the flight 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 deweloping 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 infant children purvided for in life, seem to whisper to me
softly, " This is an ewent at which Evins itself looks doWn ! " '
CHAPTER LHI
CONTAINING THE FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE PLOT CONTRIVED 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 excit-
able 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, custom, a steady contemplation
of the difficulties which surround us, and a familiarity with them,
imperceptibly diminish our apprehensions and beget comparative
indifference, if not a vague and reckless confidence in some reUef
the means or nature of which we care not to foresee. But when we
come, fresh, upon such things iii. the morning, with that dark and
silent gap between us and yesterday ; with every link in the brittle
THE DARK SIDE OF THE PICTURE 587
chain of hope, to rivet afresh ; our hot enthusiasm subdued, and
cool calm reason substituted in its stead j doubt and misgiving
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 surmount, some new height to be attained. Dis-
tances 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 liad in view,
wandered into London; perfectly well knowing that for hours to
come he could not obtain speech with Madeline, and could do
nothing but wish the intervening time away.
And, even now, as he paced the streets, and listlessly looked
round on the gradually increasing bustle and preparation for the
day, everything appeared to yield him some new occasion 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 tenanted 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 directed to their aid;
how, in seeking, not a luxurious and splendid life, but the bare
means of a most wretched and inadequate subsistence, there were
women and children in that one town, divided into classes, numbered
and estimated as regularly 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
588 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
scarce do otherwise, and who would have been a greater woiider
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 advantage. A hasty breakfast taken,
and such affairs of business 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 j 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 person 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 person on the other side, he opened the door and
walked in.
Bray and his daughter were sitting there alone. It was nearly
three weeks since he had seen her last, but there was a change in
the lovely girl before him which told Nicholas, in startling terms,
how much mental suffering had been compressed 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 it in whiteness, it seemed by the strong
contrast raven black. Something of wildness and restlessness tliere
was in the dark eye, but there was the same patient look, the same
expression of gentle mournfulness which he well remembered, 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,
FATHER AND DAUGHTER 589
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 momentaiy 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 directly in her face,
but glancing at her, as he talked with a gay air which ill disguised
the anxiety of his thoughts. The drawing materials 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 receive
impressions, a great deal may be noted at a glance. This was one,
for Nicholas had but glanced round him when he was recognised 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 impatience
of his speech were assumed, and that Bray, in his heart, was rejoiced
at any interruption which promised to engage the attention of his
daughter. He bent his eyes involuntarily upon the father as he
spoke, and marked his uneasiness ; for he coloured 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 advancing 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 misunder-
stand. ' My employer is absent from England, or I should have
brought a letter with me. I hope she will give me time — a Httle
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 trifle, 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 ? '
590 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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. Dp you suppose, young man, that
I don't know what little purse-proud tradesmen 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 tbis inter-
rogatory 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 ? '
' Since you insist upon the term, sir, yes,' replied Nicholas.
' 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 labours 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 acknow*
ledgment 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 con-
tinued, 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 te con-
signing that young lady to something worse than supporting you by
the labour of her hands, had she worked herself dead. These are
my fears, and these fears I found upon your own demeanour. Your
conscience will tell you, sir, whether I construe it well or not.'
' For Heaven's sake ! ' cried Madeline, interposing in alarm
between them, ' Remernber, sir, he is ill.'
NICHOLAS DEMANDS A HEARING 591
'111 1' cried the invalid, gasping and catching for breath. ' 111 1
111 ! 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 hfe;- but finding that he
began to recover, he withdrew, after signifying by a gesture to the
young lady that he had something important 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 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, I 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,' rejoined
Nicholas, ' and you will not be here. Oh, madam, if you have but
one thought of him who sent me here, but one last Ungering care
fof 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 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 passionate 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 how come, at whatever risk or hazard to Mr. Bray, I must
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 pur-
pose, or lent his aid to any good design ; of this marriage, 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.
592 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
if not red with the blood of ruined men, who have fallen desperately
by their own mad hands.'
' You say you have a duty to discharge,' said Madeline, ' and so
have I. And with the help of Heaven I will perform mine.'
' Say rather with the help of devils,' replied Nicholas : ' with the
help of men, one of them your destined 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 constrained 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
fervour by which I am animated,' cried Nicholas, ' to postpone this
marriage for one short week. Not until I have besouglit you to
think, more deeply than you can have done, influenced as you are,
upon the step you are about to take. Although you cannot be fully
conscious of the villainy 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. Reflect, reflect before it is
too late, on the mockery of plighting to him at the altar, faith in
which your heart can have no share— ^of uttering solemn words,
against which nature and reason must rebel — of thg 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 labour 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 recovering strength as she
proceeded, she answered him :
'I will not disguise from you, sir-r-though perhaps I ought — that
I have undergone great pain of mind, and have been nearly broken-
hearted since I saw you last. I do not love this gentleman. The
difference between our ages, tastes, and habits, forbids it. This he
knows, and knowing, still offers me his hand. By accepting it, and
by that step alone, I can release my father who is dying in this
place; prolong his life, perhaps, for many years; restore him to
comfort — I may almost call it affluence; and relieve a generous
HE EXPOSTULATES IN VAIN 593
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 have 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 done, 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 have 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. I 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 com-
posed 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.'
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 supplication,
' no withdrawing ! All regret will be unavailing, and deep and
bitter it must be. What can I say, that will induce you to pause
sjt 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 violept rapidity
? Q
594 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 yoja not retract ? '
' No, no, no ! It is impossible ; it is a child's tale,' Time would
bring his death. He i^ 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 recal 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 gratefiil
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,
having 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 (she was never trusted with a larger sum at
once, and the accounts were not usually balanced mpre than twice
a-day) ; every preparation had been made for the coming festival ;
and Arthur might have sat down and contemplated his approaching
happiness, 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 before 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.
A CHANGE IN MRS. SLIDERSKEW 595
to-morrow at twelve o'clock. On the other side though, there's the
per contra, by «ieans of this pretty chick. But, again, there's the
question 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 from his breast, and cause him to declare,
with uplifted hands, that he would die in a workhouse. Remember-
ing on further cogitation, however, that under any 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. Peg? '
' If s the fowl,' rephed 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, 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 czxi 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 cata-
maran ! '
The last-mentioned tribute to the charms of Mrs. Sliderskew,
being uttered in a whisper, that lady assented to the general pro-
position by_ a harsh growl which was accompanied by a ring at the
street-door.
'There's the bell,' said Arthur.
' Ay, ay ; I know that,' rejoined Peg.
596 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 pantomime 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 beer waiting on the steps.
' There's a change come over you, Mrs. Peg,' said Arthur, follow-
ing 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 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 attention, 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 stUl further
obsQured by a dark shade, cast its feeble rays over a very little space,
arid 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 ugly 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 calculation, Arthur
Gride suddenly 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 off ! ' 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 adclressed
ARTHUR GRIDE'S VISITOR 597
you twice or thrice, but you were too profoundly 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 attentively, and
perceiving that he was a young man of good mien 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 advantage,'
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 astonishment, 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 wind-
ings ; you will yet be called to a dear account for this. We are on
the scent already ; 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 innocence, 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
598 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY .
will buy you off. Remember the danger to whicb you are exposed.
You see I know 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 ? '
-Vhen Nicholas began, Arthxir 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 perfectly 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 vapouring, 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 engaged, had rendered
Gride quick in forming conclusions, and arriving, from puzzling,
intricate, and often contradictory premises, at very cunning deduc-
tions. Hence it was, that, as Nicholas went on, he followed him
closely with his own constructions, 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.
' I'll cry robbers, thieves, murder, alarm the neighbourhood,
struggle with you, let loose some blood, and swear you came to
rob me, if you don't quit my house,' replied Gride, drawing in his
head with a frightful grin, ' I will I '
' Wretch ! ' cried Nicholas.
' You'/l bring your threats here, will you ? ' said Gride, whom
GRIDE TURNS UPON HIM 599
jealousy of Nicholas and a sense of his own triumph had converted
into a perfect fiend. ' You, the disappointed 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 Madeline.'
' 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 com-
mand over myself not to fling 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'll 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 the street, and then,
drawing in his head, fastened the window as before, and sat down
to take breath.
' If she ever turns pettish or ill-humoured, I'll taunt her v/ith that
spark,' he said, when he had recovered. ' She'll httle think I know
about him ; and, if I manage it well, I can break her spirit by this
means and have her under my thumb. I'm gjad nobody came, I
didn't call too loud. The audacity to enter my house, and open
upon me ! But I shall have a very good triumph to-morrow, and
he'll be gnawing his fingers off: perhaps drown himself, or cut his
throat ! I shouldn't wonder ! That would make it quite complete,
that would : quite.'
When he had become restored to his usual condition by these
666 NICHOLAS NlCK.LEfeV
and othel: comments on his approaching triumph, Arthur' Gl'ide ptit
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 comprehend
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 Arthur, fastening as he spoke, ' bottom 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 five, 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 celebrite the close of his
bachelor days by imprinting a kiss on her shrivelled 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 oversleep them-
selves 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 forgetting all about the
matter, rated his servants for providing him with such fine clothes
as had been prepared for the festival. 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
generations.
Arthur Gride had enrobed himself in his marriage garments 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 favourite cordial, ere that delicate piece of antiquity
enlightened the kitchen with her presence.
' Faugh ! ' said Peg, grubbing, in the discharge of her domestic
functions, among a scanty heap of ashes in the rusty grate.
THE WEDDING MORNING 66t
' 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 1 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 littie think why,
Arthur boy ! '
While Mrs. Sliderskew, influenced possibly by some lingering
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 parlour
upon what had taken place last night.
' I can't think how he can have picked up what he knows,' said
Arthur, 'unless I have committed myself — let something drop at
Bray's, for instance — which has been overheard. Perhaps I may.
I shouldn't be surprised if that was it. Mr. Nickleby was often
angry at my talking to him before we got outside the door. I
musn't tell 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 recognised among his
fellows as a superior genius, but upon Arthur Gride his stern un-
yielding 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 accord-
ing to appointment ; and to Ralph Nickleby he related, how, last
night, some young blustering blade whom he had never seen, forced
his way into his house, and tried to frighten him from the proposed
nuptials. Told, in short, what Nicholas 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 ? '
' 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.'
6o2 NICHOLAS NlCKLEBY
' 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 are
jealous — and with good cause I think.'
' No, no, no ; 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 ? ' 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 ! ' 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 ? '
' 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 aU.'
' What a man it is ! ' cried Arthur Gride, affecting, in the ex-
tremity 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 sheer. ' Why, everybody 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 you 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 ? '
THE BRIDEGROOM AND HIS FRIEND 603
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 favours, 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 per-
vaded it. The face of the poor servant-girl, the only person they
saw, was disfigured with tears and want 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 a
low 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, drily, '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-7-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 con-
sideration 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 ! '
' 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 1 Come a little this way.'
6o4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBV
He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the rootn, 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.
' 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 favourable opportunity 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 irritation.
' It is a cruel thing, by all that's bad and treacherous ! '
When men are about to commit, or to sanction the commission
of some injustice, it is not uncommon for them to express pity for
the object either of that or some parallel proceeding, and to feel
themselves, at the time, quite virtuous and moral, and immensely
superior to those who express no pity at all. 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 dissimula-
tion ; 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 cmel thing, before he again offered to interpose a word.
' You see what a dry, shrivelled, 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, Nickleby, 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 j
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.'
' So there are ! ' exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at anything
APPREHENSIONS OF THE BRIDE'S FATHER 605
which seemed a justification 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, depended on her
taking a husband whom I pointed out, I should hope it would not
be necessary to advance any other arguments 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 assent 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 ? 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 floor sank with me, and after falling from such an indescribable
and tremendous 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 ? ' 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, occupying 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 ; turning to
the bridegroom, when they were again alone, he said,
' Mark my words. Gride, you won't have to pay his 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, throwing 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 estabhshed a familiarity between them, when his
attentive ear caught the rustling of a female dress upon the stairs,
and the footstep of a man.
' Wake up ! ' he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon the
ground, 'and be something like life, man, will you? They are
here. Urge those dry old bones of- yours this way. Quick, m^ii,
quick ! '
6o6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 speech-
less rage. His eyes were so prominent, and his face was so con-
vulsed and changed by the passions which raged within him, that
it would have been difficult to recognise 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, plijcking
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 colour 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 struggling for the
mastery with Nicholas. But he kept them down, and gently pressing
Kate's arm to re-assure 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 ex-
pression of the brother were all reflected in the sister, but softened
and refined to the nicest limit of feminine 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
characteristics of a face rendered coarse and harsh by evil thoughts
were half so manifest as now.
' Away ! ' was the first word he could utter as he literally gnashed
his teeth. ' Away ! What brings you here ? Liar, scoundrel,
dastard, thief ! '
' I 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
A WOMAN'S HEART 607
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 wiR 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 weak-
ness, 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 oifer 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, coming here to-day to
disturb a solemn ceremony, and knowing 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 like 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 he wanting to marry Miss MadeUne 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
6o8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 where 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 1 '
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 moment, a heavy body fell with
great violence on the floor above, and, in an instant afterwards, was
heard a most appalling and terrific scream.
They all stood still, and gazed upon each other. Scream
succeeded scream ; a heavy pattering of feet succeeded ; many
shrill voices clamouring together were heard to cry, ' He is dead 1 '
' Stand off ! ' cried Nicholas, letting loose all the passion 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 bedchamber ; and found Bray lying
on the floor quite dead ; his daughter clinging to the body.
'How did this happen?' he cried, looking wildly about him.
Several voices answered together, that he had been observed,
through the half-opened door, reclining in a strange and uneasy
position upon a chair ; that he had been spokeii 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 necessary directions for the arrange-
ments that must be made. Stand aside, every one of you, and givq
rporo m4 air for Gpd's sak^ ! '
"''^•gt^^
^ylfxAotoj' ccm.0^aA^/£t^ie^■.yly/^uyl^Ji^^^|y^^^^
MADELINE IS RESCUED 609
The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had just
occurred, than at the excitement and impetuosity 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 Kate bent over their beautiful charge
and endeavoured, 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.
Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralysed 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 pro-
ceedings 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 con-
fronting 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.'
' Aye ! ' 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 ! '
2 R
6io NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Whence will curses come at your command ? Or what avails
a curse or blessing from a man like you? I tell you, that mis-
fortune 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 hoarded 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 in-
tentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent. Nicholas
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 beautiful burden in his
arms rushed out. No one cared to stop him, if any were so dis-
posed. 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 responsible 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. Nickleby, from the moment when this confidence was first
reposed in her, late on the previous evening, had remained in an
unsatisfactory and profoundly mystified state, from, which no ex-
planations or arguments could relieve her, and which every fresh
soliloquy and reflection only aggravated more and more.
iviiaiirn^AliUIM Ue MKS. JNiCKLJiBY 6ll
'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, andshut her up in the Fleet prison for safety?— I have read
of such things in the newspapers a hundred 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, forbidding people's banns ? '
' I don't think you quite understand,' said Kate, gently.
'Well I am sure, Kate, my dear, you're very pohte!' 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 cir-
cumstances 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 her-
self? Your poor papa was older than I was, four years and a half
older. Jane Dibabs — the Dibabses lived in the beautiful little
thatched white house one story high, covered all over with ivy and
creeping plants, with an exquisite little porch with twining honey-
suckles 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 Christians — Jane Dibabs, sAe married
a man who was a great deal older than herself, and' woa/d marry
him, notwithstanding all that could be said to the contrary, and
she was so fond of him that nothing was ever equal to it. There
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
6i2 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 always 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 her, her opinion was of no consequence,
it didn't matter what slie 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 attracted attention
into short coughs), Mrs. Nickleby remained until Nicholas and
Kate returned with the object of their solicitude ; when, having by
this time asserted her own importance, 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 *£redit to
herself for recommending 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 unquestionable 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 considered 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 provided for, on a scale of great splendour.
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. Recover-
ing 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 have been sustained by an unnatural strain upon the
RETURNING HEALTH §13
mental energies 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 woi se — her life itself.
Who, slov:l\- iecovering from a disorder so severe and dangerous,
could be inSwisible to the unremitting attentions of such a nurse as
gentle, tender, earnest Kate ? On whom could the sweet soft voice,
the hght step, the delicate hand, the quiet cheerful noiseless dis-
charge of those thousand little offices 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, ke^nlj 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 recogni-
tion of the praises which Kate, when they recalled 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 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 some-
times found it equally difficult to assign to each the feeUngs 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. Nickleby,
makmg 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, accord-
ing to custom, my dear, to know, from your own lips, exactly how
you are ; for he won't take my account, and never will.'
6i4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' He is later than usual to-night,' perhaps Madeline would reply.
' Nearly half an hour.'
' Well, I never saw su(fti people in all my life as you are, for time,
up here ! ' Mrs. Nickleby would, exclaim in great astonishment ; ' I
declare I never did ! I had not the least idea that Nicholas was
after his time, not the smallest. Mr. Nickleby used to say— your
poor papa, I arii 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 I really
think you ought to take something that would give you one. I am
siire I don't know, but I have 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.'
' 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, some-
times, 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 extra-
ordinary 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 become 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 necessary, 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 rising of his spirits
with the information fliat 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
Nicholas 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 herself, the family
would ever get on without her.
At other times, when Nicholas came home at night, he would be
MRS. NICKLEBY'S DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS 615
accompanied by Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who was commissioned by
the brothers to inquire how MadeUne was, that evening. Oh 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 communication with the medical man, came back-
wards and forwards 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 a view of ascertaining whether her
suspicions were well founded : and if so, of tantalising 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 realised. 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 dark 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 separation. Nay, she even went so far as to hint,
obscurely, at an attachment entertained for her daughter by the
son of an old neighbour of theirs, one Horatio Peltirogus (a yoimg
gentleman who might have been, at that time, four years old, or
thereabouts), and to represent it, indeed, as almost a settled thing
between the families — only waiting for her daughter's final decision,
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 glory of having sprung this last mine
one night, with extraordinary success, that Mrs. Nickleby took the
opportunity of being left alone with her son before retiring to rest,
to sound him on the subject which so occupied her thoughts ; not
6i6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
doubting that they could have but one opinion respecting it. To
this end, she approached the question with divers laudatory and
appropriate remarks touching the general amiability of Mr. Frank
Cheeryble.
' 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, my dear,' said Mrs. Nickleby, with an earnest
look.
' Very well,' returned Nicholas. ' I will.'
Nicholas returned to the perusal of the book he had been read-
ing, when the dialogue had gone thus far. Mrs. Nickleby, after
stopping a little for 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 consciousness
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. I don't say that I have any
particular penetration 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 snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets, and,
MRS. NICKLEBY'S DISCLOSURE 6i^
leaning back in his chair, assumed a look of patient suffering 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 understanding 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 garden 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 dear, 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 respectable 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, it's 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 interrupt young people when they are
— when they are sitting on the sofa, and — and all that sort of
thing : which is very nonsensical perhaps, but still they will do it.'
The profound astonishment with which her son regarded her
during this long address, gradually increasing as it approached its
climax, in no way discomposed Mrs. Nickleby, but rather exalted
her opinion of her own cleverness ; therefore, 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 incoherent 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. Nickleby repeated, with Kate.
' What ! Our Kate ! My sister ! '
' Lord, Nicholas ! ' returned Mrs. Nickleby, ' whose Kate should
6i8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
it be, if not ours j 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,' said 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 matters, 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 reminded him of many little circum-
stances 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 has
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.'
She said this with such a mingling of high delight and self-con-
gratulation, that it was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas to dash her
hopes ; but he felt that there was only one honorable 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 sufifered 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.
NICHOLAS EXPLAINS 619
' No,' said Nicholas, * and for that reason poverty 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 main-
taining than a monarch in preserving 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 in-
adequate return. 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 childish-
ness to suppose they have not formed plans suitably adapted to the
education he has had, and the fortune he will inherit — in our per-
mitting 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 ? Would you be at ease,
and feel that you had played an open part ? '
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, crying more arid 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 situation with
them,' said Nicholas, 'but we should still be open to the same
suspicions ; the distance between us would still be as great ; the
advantages to be gained would still be as manifest as now. We
may be reckoning without out host, in all this,' he added more
cheerfully, ' and I trust, and almost believe we are. If it be other-
wise, I have that confidence 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 persevered in his attentions
she would endeavour 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 prevented 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 assistance ; so
worn and emaciated, that it was painful to look upon him. Nicholas
620 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
was warned by the same medical authority 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
favourable spot ; but this advice was cautiously coupled with the
information 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 history, despatched old Tim to be present at this consultation.
That same morning, Nicholas was summoned by brother Charles
into his private room, and thus addressed :
' 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, 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 bye; 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 bye
to, waving her handkerchief. Don't go, without one gesture of
farewell to Kate ! '
' I cannot make it ! ' cried his trembling companion, falling back
in his seat and covering his eyes. ' Do you see her now ? Is she
there still ? '
' Yes, yes ! ' said Nicholas earnestly. ' There 1 She waves her
hand again ! I have answered it for you— and now they are out of
THE DEFEATED CONSPIRATORS 621
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 i
It sounded like the prayer of a broken heart.
I'
CHAPTER LVI
RALPH NICKLEBY, BAFFLED BY HIS NEPHEW IN HIS LATE DESIGN,
HATCHES A SCHEME OF RETALIATION WHICH ACCIDENT SUG-
GESTS TO HIM, AND TAKES INTO HIS COUNSELS A TRIED
AUXILIARY
The course which these adventures shape out for themselves, and
imperatively call upon the historian to observe, now demands that
they should revert to the point they attained previous to the com-
mencement 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 grey 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 he 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 long
enough. I blame no one else.'
622 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' N — n — no one else ? ' said Gride.
' Not for this mischance,' rephed Ralph. ' I have an 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 urmatural 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 cowering 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 agaiiist 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. Arthur 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 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.'
ov.Ajs.ux IX \jr iviltS. SJ_,iiJliKSJ<^JiW 023
' 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, coachman. 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 ? ' 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 neighbours 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 j 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. Rumours
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 indignation at the public
appearance of a bride in boots and pantaloons, 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, 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
624 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 creak-
ing door and looking into every deserted room. But no Peg was
there. At last, they sat them do^vn in the apartment 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.
' V'orse than money, worse than money ! ' cried the old man,
casting the papers out of the chest, like some beast tearing 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 ? '
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!'' cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light appeared 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 tier. Somebody will read
it for her and tell her what to do. She and her accomplice will get
money for it and be let off besides ; they'll make a merit of it — say
A TERRIBLE ROBBERY 625
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 sufficiently 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^aands 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 ? ' 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 betrayed. 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 outcry, until it had
softened down into a low despairing moan, 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 depart-
ing 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 rumour 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 pinching 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 me ! The
cant of the lying world is, that men like me compass our riches
hy dissimulation and treachery ; by fawning, cringing, and stooping,
? §
626 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Why, how many lies, what mean evasions, what humbled behaviour
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 six-
pence 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 grasping its sides so firmly that they creaked
again, he said :
' 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, how-
ever 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 puts 'em off their feed. But it's a ill wind as
blows no good to nobody j that's what I always say when them lads
RALPH AND SQUEERS ON BUSINESS 627
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, drily.
'Sir.'
' We'll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you please, and
talk of business.'
'With all my heart, sir,' rejoined Squeers, 'and first let me
say ^'
' First let me say, if you please. Noggs ! '
Newrrian 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 returning 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. You 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
^n 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 inconveniency quite un-
paralleled ; 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, drily.
"'Yeg, I say of course,' resumed Mr. Squeers, rubbing his knees;
628 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
'but at the same time, when one comes, as I do now, better than
two hundred and fifty mile to take a afferdavid, it does put a man
out a good deal, letting alone the risk.'
•And where may the risk be, Mr. Squeers?' said Ralph.
' I said, letting alone the risk,' replied Squeers, evasively.
' And I said, where was the risk ? '
' 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, emphatically.
'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 I 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 keep-
ing. 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 his 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 of your risk in the
conspiracy ! '
' I say,' remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round ; ' don't call
it that ! Just as a favour, don't.'
' Call it what you like,' said Ralph, irritably, ' but attend 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 half-dead drudge whpm you
RALPH MAKES A STATEMENT 62^
iivished to regain, because, while you wreaked your vengeance on
him for his share in the business, 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 de-
termination which Ralph displayed to make everything tell against
him, and by his stern unyielding manner : ' in a measure 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 re-
minder, ' 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 between us.'
' How can it ever be otherwise ? ' retorted Ralph. ' Except 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 revengeful. 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 triumph.
Secondly, that by some will or settiement — 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 existence of this deed ever became
known to her, would make her husband (and Ralph represented
that Nicholas was certain 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 devoured
every syllable, and with his one eye and his mouth wide open;
marvelUng for what special reason he was honored with so much
of Ralph's confidence, and to what it all tended.
630 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 husband; 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 bum 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 moment 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 relinquish-
ment 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 slightest effect. Resuming, when
the schoolmaster had quite talked himself out of breath, as coolly
as if he had never been interrupted, 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. Slider-
skew j the great improbability of her having any accomplice, 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 con-
certed plan : otherwise she would have watched an opportunity of
carrying off a sum of money ; the difficulty she would be placed in
when she began to think on what she had done, and found herself
incumbered with documents of whose nature she was utterly
ignorant; the comparative 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 obtain, under one pretence or another, free possession of the
deed. To these were added such considerations, as the constant
residence of Mr. Squeers at a long distance from London, which
rendered his association with Mrs. Sliderskew a mere masquerading
frolic, in which nobody was likely to recognise 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 com-
ments on the uncommon tact and experience of Mr. Squeers : which
would make his over-reaching one old woman a mere matter of
child's play and amusement. In addition to these influences and
SQUEERS UNDERTAKES THE JOB 63s
persuasions, 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 expected to wed
an heiress — glanced at the immeasurable importance 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 ac-
quaintance, when he had reported favourably 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 unsuccessful 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.'
' I may not get at her at all,' replied Ralph, ' but I'll try. 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 something for loss of
time ? '
' Well,' said Ralph, testily ; ' yes ! 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.'
6^2 NICHOLAS NICKLeBY
CHAPTER LVII
HOW RALfH NICKLEBy'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 breadth and length which would have admitted of his
winding himself in it, head and all, with the utmost ease, and with-
out any risk of straining the old and greasy material of which it was
composed.
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 difficulty in
recognising her lord : quickened though her natural sagacity doubt-
less would have been, by the aifectionate 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 bedstead, and such few other articles of
necessary furniture as it contained, were of the commonest descrip-
tion, in a most crazy state, and of a most uninviting appearance.
The street was muddy, dirty, and deserted. Having but one outiet,
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 windows, 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'
A Letter froM home 633
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-follering 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.'
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,' soliloquised 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 cunning 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 infor-
mation.
' The pigs is well,' said Mr. Squeers, ' the cows is well, and the
boys is bobbish. Young Sprouter has been a-winking, 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, Cobbey, we'll see if we can't make you
sniff a httle 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
634 NICHOLAS NICKLEBV
quarter : taking it out of me to the very last, and then carrying liis
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 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 hundred 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 '11 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 candle 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 ^vretched fire (for
although the weather was still warm, the evening was chilly), walked
in, and tapped her on the shoulder.
MR. SQUEERS AND MRS. SLIDERSKEW 635
' Well, my Slider ! ' said Mr. Squeers, jocularly.
' Is that you ? ' inquired Peg.
'Ah! It's me, and me's the first person singular, nominative
case, agreeing with the verb " it's," and governed by Squeers under-
stood, 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 under-tone.
' No,' said Peg, ' of course not'
' I never saw such a monster as you are I ' 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 ! '
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 Httle
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.'
' Yotir 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, his
person, manners, and conversation, replied that the rheumatics
were better
'What's the reason,' said Mr. Squeers, deriving fresh facetiousness
from the bottle ; ' what's the reason of rheumatics ? What do they
mean ? What do people have 'em for — eh ? '
636 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Mrs. Sliderskew didn't know, but suggested that it was possibly
because they couldn't help it.
' Measles, rheumatics, hooping-cough, fevers, agers, and lum-
bagers,' 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 philosopher?" — "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
philosopher, 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. Slider-
skew, who was unable to hear one word, Mr. Squeers concluded by
helping himself and passing the bottle. To which Peg did be-
coming 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 assent-
ing verbally to the compliment.
' Twenty pound ten better,' repeated Mr. Squeers, ' than you did
that day when I first introduced inyself. 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 everything that happens in that way, you see,'
continued Squeers. ' Nothing takes place, of that kind, that I an't
up to entirely. I'm a sort of a lawyer,, .Slider, of first-rate standing
and understanding. I'm the intimater-" 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 accomplishments,
which was partly the result of a concerted plan between himself and
Ralph Nickleby, and flowed, in part, from the black bottle, was
here interrupted by Mrs. Sliderskew.
'Ha, ha, ha 1' she cried, folding her arms and wagging her head;
THE MISSING DEEDS 637
and so he wasn't married after all, wasn't he ? Not married after
^11?'
' No,' replied Squeers, ' that he wasn't ! '
' And a young lover come and carried off the bride, eh ? ' 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 favour. Which nearly choked
him.'
' Tell me all about it again,' cried Peg, with a malicious rejish of
her old master's defeat, which made her natural hideousness some-
thing 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 request by
describing the discomfiture of Arthur Gride, with such improve-
ments 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 acquaint-
ance. Mrs. Sliderskew was in an ecstasy of delight, rolling her
head 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 even with him.'
' More than even. Slider,' returned Squeers ; ' you'd have been
even with him, if he'd got married; but with the 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 an'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
plight hang me, littering about \Yhep they might be \uxn^d intg
638 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
money — them as wasn't useful made away with, and them as was,
laid by somewheres, safe ; that's all,' returned Squeers ; ' but every--
body'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
humour, ' 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. Repressing, with as good a grace
as possible, these little familiarities — for which, there is reason to
believe, the black bottle 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
humour, 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 Squeers's feet, she brought, from under
the pillow of her bed, a small 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 : arid, 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 par-
ticular good-will. But, I say ! 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 con-
tempt. ' If I had taken money from Arthur Gride, he'd have
scoured the whole earth to find me— aye, and he'd have smelt it
ALMOST SUCCESSFUL, BUT NOT QUITE 639
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 little 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 contents upon the
floor, handed it to her ; the destruction of the box being an extem-
porary 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 me see, let
me see.' And taking the candle down beside him, Mr. Squeers,
with great eagerness and a cunning grin overspreading 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 persons close
behind it : and if those two persons had been unacquainted with
her infirmity 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 per-
ceptible 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 before they had
moved an inch and all was silent, stopped again. This, with the
large bare room, damp walls, and flickering doubtful light, combined
to form a scene which the roost careless and indifferent spectator
640 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
(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 undergoing a flourish in the
air preparatory 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 con-
siderably puzzled by this first prize, which was in an engrossing
hand, and not very legible except to a practised eye. Having tried
it by reading from left to right, and from right to left, and finding
it equally clear both ways, he turned it upside 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 grinning 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 gentlemen ; 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 by any noise, checked him in his
purpose.
' Here you are,' said Squeers, ' bonds — take care of them. War-
rant of attorney — take C£^re of that, Two cognovits — t^k? care of
^bL^ w^ #1
Kv/' u^K^xmAc^oitJ ef y4:JiU'ta.
DESCENT OF THE BELLOWS 641
them. Lease and release— burn that. Ah ! " Madeline 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.
' 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 returned.
Newinan's arm could no longer be restrained. The bellows, de-
scending heavily and with unerring aim on the very centre of Mr.
Squeers's head, felled him to the floor, and stretched him on it flat
and senseless.
CHAPTER LVIII
IN 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 cirdumstances 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 solicitous, 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
unceasing occupation.
They procured a humble lodging in a small farm-house, sur-
rounded by rheadows, where Nicholas had often revelled when a
child with a troop of merry schoolfellows ; and here they took up
their rest.
2 T
642 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
At first, Smike was strong enough to walk about, for short dis-
tances at a time, with no other support or aid than that which
Nicholas could afford him. At this time, nothing appeared to
interest him so much as visiting those places which had been most
familiar to his friend in bygone days. Yielding to this fancy, and
pleased to find that its indulgence beguiled 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 terrified 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 summer 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 — nothing* 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 where
was his father's grave. ' Even here,' said Nicholas, softly, ' we used
to loiter before we knew what death was, and when we little thought
whose ashes would rest beneath ; and, wondering at the silence, sit
down to rest and speak below our breath. Once, Kate was lost,
and after an hour of fruitless search, they found her fast asleep
under that tree 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
forgotten.'
Nothing more passed, at the time ; but that night, as Nicholas sat
SMIKE'S ALARM 643
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 redeem 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 stifled 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 painml 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 favourite 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 sometimes for hours together.
It was on one of these occasions that a circumstance took place,
which Nicholas, at the time, thoroughly beUeved 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 his great astonishment,
that his charge had struggled into a sitting posture, and with eyes
almost starting ;from their sockets, cold dew standing on his fore-
head, 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. ' 5 j > :•
644 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 ; ' granting, 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, exactly 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 parlour I was left in,
the people who were there, all seemed to come back together.
When he knew I 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 endeavoured, by every persuasion and argument he
could think of, to convince the terrified 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 conjecture,
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 declared, again and again,
in the most solemn and fervid manner, 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.
c?
SMIKE'S QUIET DECLINE 645
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.
The dying boy turned towards him, and, putting his arm about
his neck, made answer, ' I shall soon be there I '
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 comfort me
very 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
646 NICHOLAS" NICKLEBY
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 ardour of a nature con-
centrated 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.
Upon his knees Nicholas gave him this pledge, and promised
again that he should 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 light slumber, and waking smiled as before ; 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, whispered 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 accustomed to
take his meals, and to sit of nights when no profitable occupation
called him abroad. Before him was an untasted breakfast, and
near to where his fingers beat restlessly 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 stairs to
the business of the day, but he took as Uttle 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 laboured under some mental or bodily indisposition, and
that it was one of no slight kind so to affect a man like him, was
sufficiently shown by his haggard face, jaded air, and hollow languid
NO REST FOR THE WICKED 647
eyes : which he raised at last with a start and a hasty glance around
him, as one who suddenly awakes from sleep, and cannot immediately
tecognise the place in which he finds himself.
; ' What is this,' he said, ' that hangs over me, and I cannot 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 ? '
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 again.'
Pushing the table from him while he spoke, as though he loathed
the sight of food, he encountered the watch : the hands of v/hich,
were almost upon noon.
' This is strange ! ' he said, ' noon, and Noggs not here ! what
drunken brawl keeps him away ? I would give something now —
something in money even after that dreadful loss — if he 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 devil's name ? ' 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.'
' Saw I was anxious ! ' muttered Ralph ; ' they all watch me.
648 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 descended the stairs. After
pausing for a few moments, with his hand upon the lock, he entered
Newman's room, and confronted 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 recognised 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, hatred, and malice ; restored
the sneer to his lip, and the scowl to his brow ; and made him again,
in all outward appearance, the same Ralph Nickleby whom so
many had bitter cause to remember.
' Humph ! ' said Ralph, pausing at the door. ' This is an un-
expected favour, sir.'
' And an unwelcome one,' said brother Charles ; ' an unwelcome
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 favour
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 Ms way 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 impres-
sion upon a man who closes his ears to all 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
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 645
before ; .and, to speak my mind, sir, 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 coun-
tenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change of
expression, and met his look without reserve.
' Shall I go on ? ' said Mr. Cheeiyble.
' Oh, by all means, if you please,' returned Ralph drily. ' 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
Jhe 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 common with the angels, blessed
opportunities of exercising, if they will; mercy. It is an errand
of mercy that brings me here. Pray, 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 behalf of the fellow
who has imposed upon your childish credulity, but let him expect
the worst that I can do.'
' He ask mercy at your hands ! ' exclaimed the old merchant
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 prevent our ever meeting again.
Your nephew is a noble lad, 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 morning, 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.
6so NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Ralph looked after him, but neither moved nor spoke for some
time : when he broke what almost seemed the silence of stupe-
faction, 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 contemptuous
manner, it was plain that, the more Ralph pondered, the more ill
at ease he became, and the more he laboured 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 pre-
sented 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 very 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 ? '
' 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 never
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
SYMPTOMS OF FALLING-OFF 651
to trast you with his secrets, keep them ; keep them, she-devil that
you are ! '
-■ 'Not so much his secrets as other people's secrets perhaps,'
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 I must
see him? And will you tell me what it is that you and he mean,
by this new style of behaviour ? '
' 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 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 behaviour, Ralph determined to
hazard the extreme step of inquiring for him at the Lambeth lodg-
ing, and having an interview with him even there. Bent upon this
purpose, aind in that mood in which delay is insupportable, he
r'epaired at once to the place ; and being, by description, perfectly
acquainted with the situation of his room, crept up stairs 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 per-
suaded 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
653 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 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 Sliderskew
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 his steps : now thoroughly
alarmed, and fearful that there were indeed plots afoot, tending to
his discomfiture 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 neighbours 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— 0—0 — o,' snarled Gride. He drew in his head; and
MORE SYMPTOMS 653
Ralph, left standing in the street, could hear the sash closed, as
gently and carefully as it had been opened.
' How is this,' said he, ' that they all fall from me, and shun me
Uke 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 firmer and more
myself, just now, than I 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 work-
ing his way steadily through the crowd 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 his 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 morning ? '
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 Linkin-
water,' 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 con-
sideration would be misplaced ; 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 humour you.'
6S4 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Humour ! ' cried Tim Linkinwater, suddenly growing very red
in the face. ' He'll humour us ! He'll humour Cheeryble Brothers !
Do you hear that ? Do you hear him ? Do you hear him say he'll
humour Cheeryble Brothers ? '
'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 — I 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.'
So 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 sufficiently ill-favoured, 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 ? '
' Charles, my dear 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 walk ; 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 (if he had
one) for drink, and whose every word is a he ! What men are safe
if thjs is done ? Oh it's a good beginning ! '
' 1 will speak,' cried Newman, standing on tiptoe to look over
WORSE AND WORSE 655
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 bhnd men's dogs, rather
than your drudge and packhorse ? If my every word was a lie, why
wasn't I a pet and favourite of yours ? Lie ! When did I ever
criiige 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 no-
body knew, better than you, that I was a rained 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, thrasting 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 dradge 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 tainpered with Gride too,
and did so in the little office with a closet in the room ? '
Ralph had put a great command upon himself ; but he could not
have suppressed a slight start, if he had been certain 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 fiesh
and blood, and vile designs upon a young girl who interested even
his broken-down drunken miserable hack, and made him linger 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 going 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
6s 6 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 any-
body else say theirs, and fire away ! '
With this concluding sentiment, Newman 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 combined, in a state of most
intense and fiery heat ; became, without passing through any inter-
mediate 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 would 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 Newman Noggs, all thre'e at once ; who, after
a vast deal of talking together, and a scene of great confusion, laid
before Ralph, in distinct terms, the following statement.
That, Newman, having been solemnly assured by one not then
producible that Smike was not the son of Snawley, and this person
having offered to make oath to that effect, if necessary, 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 existence of a conspiracy, they had no difficulty
in tracing back its origin to the malice of Ralph, and the vindictive-
ness and avarice of Squeers. That, suspicion and proof being two
very different things, they had been advised by a lawyer, eminent
for his sagacity and acuteness in such practice, to resist the proceed-
ings 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 practise on his fears, and regard for his
own safety, as to induce him to divulge the whole scheme, and to
A WATCH SET 657
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 success-
fully baffled all their attempts, until an unexpected circumstance
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 something might be discovered which
would throw some Ught 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 repaired 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 talUed with that of deaf Mrs.
Sliderskew. Affairs now appearing to assume a more serious com-
plexion, the watch was renewed with increased vigilance ; an officer
was procured, who took up his abode in the same tavern with
Squeers J and by him and Frank Cheeryble, the footsteps of the
unconscious schoolmaster were dogged, 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 neighbours, and
partly to his own grief and rage, had, long ago, become 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 communi-
cation 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. SUderskew 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 procured, and all prepared.
3 V
6s8 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 Cheeryble and
Newman stole up stairs to listen to their discourse, and to give the
signal to the officer at the most favourable time. At what an
opportune moment they arrivedj 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 concerning Smike
to be a fiction and forgery, and implicated Ralph Nickleby to the
fullest extent. As to Mr. Squeers, he had, that morning, under-
gone a private examination before a magistrate : and, being unable
to account satisfactorily for his possession of the deed or his com-
panionship with Mrs. Sliderskew, had been, with her, remanded
for a week.
All these discoveries were now related to Ralph, circumstantially,
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 parties impli-
cated in the plot against this poor, unoffending, 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 conse-
quences 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 mel Do you think that a hundred well-
arranged plans, or a hundred suborned witnesses, or a hundred
AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION 659
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.
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 misfortunes had
occurred, aUghted 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. Saucers 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 schoolmaster, 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, forewarned 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, displaying 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 hand-
kerchief, 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
66o NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
broke it,' rejoined Squeers sulkily ; ' that's what's the matter with it.
You've come at last, have you ? '
'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 willage — there'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 yet slept
yourself sober.'
'I haven't been drinking your 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-humour. ' 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-daverous
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 anything 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 company
with this woman ; as you were detected in possession of this docu-
ment ; 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
establishment and say, " / am the Wackford Squeers as is therein
named, sir. I am the man as is guaranteed, by unimpeachable
references, to be a out-and-outer in morals and uprightness 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 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 ! " '
'ALL UP WITH SQUEERS!' 661
'What document was it that you had?' asked Ralph, evading,
for the moment, the point just raised.
' What document ? Why, f^ document,' replied Squeers. ' The
Madehne 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 favour; that's all I 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 bum 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 delightful 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, geometry, astronomy, trigonometry — this
is a altered state of trigonomics, this is ! A double 1 — all, every-
thing — 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 opportunity
of recovering his presence of mind, which at once suggested to him
the necessity of removing, as far as possible, the schoolmaster's mis-
givings, and leading him to believe that his safety and best policy
lay in the preservation of a rigid 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 reappearance 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 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 might
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 an'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
662 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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
mixed up together in a certain sort of a way, and if you had liked
to be ill-natured you might perhaps- have hurt the business, 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 rny 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 deckmation might have led to, nobody 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 handkerchief that bound his head; and, thrusting
one hand in his pocket, and taking the attendant's arm with the
other, suffered himself to be led forth.
' As I supposed from his not sending ! ' thought Ralph. ' This
fellow, I plainly -see through all his tipsy fooling, has made up his
mind to turn upon me. I am so beset and henimed 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 ! '
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 and exhausted, but could taste nothing save a glass of water,
and contmued to sit with his head upon his hand ; not resting or
thinking, but laboriously trying to do both, and feeling that every
sense but one of weariness 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 repeated, and he
TERRIBLE NEWS 663
had, several times, heard a voice outside, saying there was a hght
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
recognise. He held his hand aljove 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 speaking
most earnestly j ' it is only that you may hear something that hafe
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 Heaven's sake
come ! '
Perhaps, at another time, Ralph's obstinacy and dislike would
have been proof against any appeal from such a quarter, 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 Uke a drunken man. He well remembered, too, that when
■he had placed his foot upon the coach-steps, he turned round and
looked upon him with a face so ashy 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 pre-
sentiment 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 brotliers 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.
664 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 ? '
The room was old and large, very imperfectly lighted, and termi-
nated 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 confirmed in this im-
pression 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 two hours, the in-
telligence which caused our sending to you,' replied brother Charles.
' Let him be, sir, let him be for the present.'
' 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 evident that he was rendered
restless and uncomfortable by the presence of the unseen person ;
for he repeated this action several times, and at length, as if in a
nervous state which rendered him positively 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 manner
showing that they were agitated. Ralph glanced at them, twice
or thrice, and ultimately said, with a great effort to recover 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?'
He had struck upon a key which rendered the task of com-
mencement 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 would be too welcome news to be
true.'
'Shame on you, you hardened and unnatural man,' cried the
other brother, warmly ; ' prepare yourself for inteUigence, 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 lightsome hours which make
our childhood a time to be remembered 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
SOMETHING TO TELL 665
vented the malice and hatred you have conceived for your nephew,
and whom you have made an instrument for wreaking 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.
I would have travelled a hundred miles a-foot, through mud, mire,
and darkness, to hear this news just at this time.'
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 compassion 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 indeed.'
The figure that he had seen so dimly, rose, and came slowly
down. He started back, for he found that he confronted— 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 '
666 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Who is now in his grave,' echoed Ralph, like one who talks in
his sleep.
^The man raised his eyes, and clasped bis 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 undisfigured by
any wound, such a ghastly face as he then disclosed. 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 myself. 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, gentlemen —
that's from twenty to five-and-twenty years 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 in-
fluence and try to over-persuade 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 ruinous
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
sariie 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 de-
clared 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 altogether to another branch of the family. The
brother would give no consent that the sister didn't buy, and pay
for handsomely; Mr. Nickleby would consent to no such sacrifice;
and so, they went oh, 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 a son. The
child was put out to. nurse, a long way off; his mother never saw
him but once or twice and then by stealth; and his father— so
ALL BROUGHT TO LIGHT 667
eagerly did he thirst after the money which seemed to come almost
withm his grasp now, for his brother-in-law was very ill, and break-
ing more and more every day--never went near him, to avoid
raising suspicion. The brother 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 little
or no company but riotous, drunken sportsmen. He lived in
London and clung to his business. Angry quarrels and recrimina-
tions 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 circumstances
from his own lips. They were no secrets then ; for the brother,
and others, knew them ; but they were communicated 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. L 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 resumed.
• 'He -had used ine 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— tha!t the child was dead and buried. He might have been
disappointed in some intention he had formed, or he might have
had some natural affection, but he was grieved at tAai, and I was
confirmed in my design of opening up the secret one day, and
making it a means of getting money from him. I had heard, like
most other men, 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 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,
668 NICHOLAS NiCKlLEBY
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
London, and hinting at what I could tell him, tried for a littie
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 communicating 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 recal myself, if possible, to his recollection and
confirm my story. 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 recognised 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 schoolmaster, and put to any possible
proof of any part of it, and I will show that it's too true, and diat 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 instrument of working out this dreadful
retribution upon the head of a man who, in the hot pursuit of his
bad ends, has persecuted and hunted down his own child to death.
It must descend 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
REGRET AND SYMPATHY 669
discussing the probability of his return j 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 immoveable position during the interview,
and thipking 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 presence of Brooker, whom they knew not how to
dispose of without consulting his wishes, 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 tnith 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 your poor papa, and that
well-behaved nurse who ran away with the linen and the 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 much 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 would 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 ifs only
670 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 fore-
most, 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 con-
sole 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 manfully.'
' Why, so I should,' said Nicholas, ' should I not ? ' 1
' 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 and happy, and
the recollection that I was his constant companion, and was not
prevented, as I might have been by a hundred circumstances, from
being beside him ? '
' To be sure,' sobbed Miss La Creevy ; ' it's very true, and
I'm an ungrateful, impious, wicked little fool, I know.'
With that, the good soul fell to crying afresh, and, endeavouring
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
Kate 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 colouring as he spoke. ' Has nothing
AN OFFER REFUSED- 671;
been said, since I have been away, a;bout any future arrangements
that the brothers have in contemplation for her?'
' Oh, not a word,' replied Kate, ;' I can't think of parting from
her without sorrow j and surely, Nicholas, you don't wish it ! '
Nicholas coloured 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 anybody but you ; but I 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. Sometimes,"
I try to think that the time may come when I may honfestly 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 (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 I 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, I have had, in that poor fellow
who is gone, perpetually before my eyes, another instance of the
munificent liberality of these noble brothers. As far as in me lies,
I will deserve it, and if I have wavered in my bounden duty to
them before, 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 on 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 prevented
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 shouldel-, and sobbed out ' Yes.'
' ■' And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since I have been
away,' said Nicholas; 'is that it? 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,
672 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 declared that,
be my decision what it might, he would not only inform his uncles
of the step he had taken, but would communicate 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 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 ? ' 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 confidence 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 estab-
lishing 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 very
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 wliich 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 very soon ! '
' I have thought of this, for weeks, and why should I postpone 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 impression 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,
SELF-DENIAL 673
' 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 never be a solitary one to
you and me. What if we were to remain so tme to these first
impressions as to form no others ? It is but one more link 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 look back,
now, to those of our childish days : and recollecting with a melan-
choly 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 grey, we may be even
thankful for the trials that so endeared us to each other, and turned
our 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 distresses 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 picture ;
but they were not tears of sorrow, although they continued to fall
when he had ceased to speak.
' Am I 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 sometimes 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 very much.'
It is no vaunt to affirm that if Nicholas had had ten thousand
pounds at the minute, he would, in his generous affection 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
cheerfiil 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 sufficiently re-
warded 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 1 Frank has money and wants no
2 X
6,74 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 lover, or like an ass : which I suppose is pretty
nearly the same.'
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 you'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 favourite
attitude and pointing to the cage with the feather of his pen, ' it's a
very extraordinary 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 eye 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 putting off anything
I am interested in. I didn't mean to ask you, but I should like to
hear a few particulars about that poor boy. Did he mention
Cheeryble Brothers at all ? '
' 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.'
' 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 ! ' . . ■
FULL RELIANCE ON BROTHER CHARLES 675
Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of recollec-
tion, that he was quite unequal to any more conversation 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 unaffected commiseration
of the good old man, went to his heart, and no inwarij 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. Every 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, clearing 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 Uken 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 unfortunate
man into the hospital, and sending a nurse to his children,' said
Tim.
' My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow ! ' exclaimed
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 minutes ? '
' Surely, surely,' returned brother Charles, looking at him with an
anxious countenance. ' Say on, my dear sir, say on.'
' 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, believe 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, ' emboldens me
to proceed. When you first took me into your confidence, and
676 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 endeavoured 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 sub-
servient to my duty to you.'
' Mr. Nickleby,' said brother Charles, ' you did not violate the
confidence I placed in you, or take an unworthy advantage 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 companionship 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 faith-
fully 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 any one 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 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 happen. Thank you, sir,
thank you. Madeline shall be removed.'
' If you would grant me one favour, dear sir, and suffer her to
remember me with esteem, by never revealing to her this con-
fession — '
' 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 ? '
' Wlien I reached home this morning.'
' You felt it your duty immediately to come to me, and tell me
what your sister no doubt acquainted you with ? '
FULL CONFIDENCE IN NICHOLAS 677
'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 gentleman. ' 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 had passed between himself and Kate
that morning : speaking of her with such warmth of pride and
affection, 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 in a few hurried
words — as expressive, perhaps, as the most eloquent phrases — his
devotion to the brothers, and his hope that he might live and die in
their service.
To all this, brother Charles hstened 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 Nicholas had
paused for some time ; ' a very heedless, foohsh fellow. I will take
care that this is brought to a close without 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 appointed 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
678 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 imagination or reality by some
one anxious to question or detain 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 clergyman
who did his task so speedily when 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
DESERTED IN TIME OF NEED 679
circumstance ; but he did both ; and stoppmg, 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-humour ; and one of them, a little,
weazen, hump-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 oiie who stood near
and 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 frequently before him the figure of some
goblin he had once seen chalked upon a door. But as he drew
nearer and nearer home he forgot it again, and began to think how
very dull and solitary the house would be 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 dreary, 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; everything 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, ths
68o NICHOLAS NICItLEBY
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.
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 other-
wise, 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 dishonour 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 interference 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 should 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 execrate 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 attachment 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
expiring in his arms, when he would have had them mortal enemies
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 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
THE FRONT GARRET 681
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 dis-
mantled bedstead J the one on which his son had slept; for no
other had ever been there. He avoided it hastily, 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 lumber, old corded trunks and
broken furniture, which were scattered 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 intermpted by a loud knocking at the
door below. After a htde 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 rejoinder.
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 night, 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 themselves, and
be sure that I will be ready to receive them.'
' At what hour ? ' asked the voice.
'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 follow him home, and
which now appeared to hover directly above the house.
' I know its meaning now,' he muttered, ' and the restless nights,
the dreams, and why I have quailed of late. All pointed to this.
682 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 marriages
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 he 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 occasioned 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.
They looked into all the rooms below : opening the shutters as
they went, to admit the fading light : and, still finding nobody, and
everything quiet and in its place, doubted whether they should
go further. 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 thrusting the
others aside with a loud exclamation, drew a clasp knife from his
pocket and dashing into the room cut down the body.
AN INVITATION TO DINNER 683
He had torn a rope from one of the old trunks, and hanged him-
self 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 LXIII
THE BROTHERS CHEERYBLE MAKE VARIOUS DECLARATIONS FOR
THEMSELVES AND OTHERS. TIM UNKINWATER 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 favour 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.
' 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 yoti mean, mother ? ' asked Nicholas, smiling.
' I say, my dear,' rejoined that lady, with a face of unfathomable
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. What 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 any-
thing / say, of course. It's much better to wait; a great deal
684 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 partnership, quitted
that branch of the subject, and entered upon a new one.
' It's a very extraordinary thing,' she said, ' a most extraordinary
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 pleasant, and I have no doubt that
she'll conduct herself extremely well ; she always does. It's very
gratifying to think we should have been the means of introducing
her into such society, and I'm quite glad of it — quite rejoiced — for
she certainly 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 preposterous
bows those are, but of course that's impossible, and if she likes to
make a fright of herself, no doubt she has a perfect right to do so.
We never see ourselves — never do, and never did — and I suppose
we never shall.'
This moral reflection' reminding her of the necessity of being
peculiarly smart on the occasion, so as to counterbalance Miss La
Creevy, and be herself an effectual set-off and atonement, 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 importance, 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 newspaper, which a gentleman had sat upon,
coming down, and which was obliged to be ironed again, before it
was fit for service. 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
wondering 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 particularised, not only the dishes but
THE RECEPTION 685
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 patronise 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 deHcate and trying 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 ? '
' No, sir ! ' repUed 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 aflfectionately as if she had been his favourite child. 'Poor
dear ! what do you think of this, brother Ned ? Madeline 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, having
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 you 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 Nicholas followed
brother Charles into his private room ; where, to his great astonish-
ment, he encountered Frank, whom he supposed to be abroad.
. ' Young men,' said Mr. Cheeryble, ' shake hands ! '•
686 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' 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 to whom he
looked with so much pleasure. Suifering 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 friends — close and firm friends— and 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 ? '
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 maternal,
grandfather, bequeathing her the sum of twelve thousand pounds,
payable either upon her coming of age or marrying. It would
appear that this gentleman, angry with her (his only relation)
because she would not put herself under his protection, and detach
herself from the society of her father, in compliance with his
repeated overtures, made a wUl leaving this property (which was
all he possessed) to a charitable institution. He would seem to
have repented this determination, however, for, three weeks after-
wards, and in the same month, he executed this. By some fraud,
it was abstracted immediately after his decease, and the other — the
only will found — was proved and administered. Friendly nego-
tiations, which have only just now terniinated, have been proceeding
since this instrument 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 there-
fore obtained her right, and is, or will be when either of the con-
tingencies which I have mentioned has arisen, mistress of this
fortune. You understand me ? '
Frank replied in the affiraiative. 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 immediate
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 become a suitor to her for her
hand?'
' No, sir. I interested myself in the recovery of that instrument,,
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
SMILES AND TEARS 687
his assumed dignity, 'as you always do. How dare you think,
Frank, that we would have you marry for money, when youth,
beauty, and every amiable virtue and excellence, 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. Madeline's heart is
occupied. Give me your hand, sir; it is occupied 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 him 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 senti-
ments, 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 fortunes ; are
we changed in anything but years and worldly circumstances since
that time ? 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 apostrophised, brother Ned who had entered with Mrs.
Nickleby, and who had been before unobserved 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 very near it when she first came ; I have
often been very near it. Ah ! Did you find the letter, my bird ?
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 companion ? 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 ! '
Brother Charles began the clearance by leading the blushing girl
to the door, and dismissing her with a kiss. Frank was not very
slow to follow, and Nicholas had disappeared first of all. So there
688 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 roimd 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 Linkin-
water? He accusing me of being impatient, and he the very 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 time a respectable member of society.'
This being one of the standing jokes between the old fellows and
Tim, they all three laughed very heartily, and might have laughed
much longer, but that the Brothers seeing that Mrs. Nickleby was
labouring 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 the most natural thing in
the world that Tim, finding that she still sobbed, should endeavour
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 day, why it was
a high festival and a great occasion, and that was the most natural
thing of all.
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 black silk stockings possible —
should come easily within the range of her eye, said in a soothing
way:
' Don't cry ! '
' I must,' rejoined Miss La Creevy,
TIM CONSOLES MISS LA CREEVY C89
• 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 impossible
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 knew,' 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 Linkinwater 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.
' It's almost enough to make us get married after all, isn't it?'
said Tim.
' Oh nonsense ! ' replied Miss La Creevy, 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 ! '
i ' 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 ! '
2 V
690 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' So we have,' cried Miss La Creevy — =giving way a little, as Tim
thought.
' It has been the happiest time in all my hfe ; 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 bUnd, 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 comfortable 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 red and to put her hair to
rights, Tim moved with 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 conse-
quence of the unheard-of postponement of dinner. Nicholas, 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 New-
man ! My dear boy, my dear Nick, I give you joy — health, happi-
ness, every blessing ! I can't bear it — it's too much, my dear boy
— it makes a child of me ! '
A PLEASANT DINNER-PARTY 691
'_ Where have you been ? ' said Nicholas, ' what have you been
doing ? How often have I 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 me do that,' said Nicholas in a tone of
gentle reproach.
' I 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 another 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 J 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 Linkinwater's sister to Miss La
Creevy, and there were so many jokes from the superannuated
bank clerk, and Tim Linkinwater himself was in such tiptop spirits,
and little Miss La Creevy was in such a comical state, that of them-
selves they would have composed the pleasantest party conceivable.
Then, there were Mrs. Nickleby, so grand and complacent ; Made-
line 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 transfixed 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 conversation became
more general, and the harmony and pleasure if possible increased.
The Brothers were in a perfect ecstasy; and their insisting on
saluting the ladies, all round, before they would permit them to retire,
gave occasion to the superannuated bank clerk to say so many good
things, that he quite outshone himself, and was looked upon as a
prodigy of humour.
' Kate, my dear,' said Mrs. Nickleby, 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. Linkin-
water ? '
* Indeed it is, mama.'
' Why, I never heard such a thing in my life ! ' exclaimed Mrs.
Nickleby.
693 NICHOLAS 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 merriment and
enjoyment that ensued, and in which with that exception 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 misdemeanour she had so flagrantly committed.
CHAPTER LXIV
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IS RECOGNISED UNDER MELANCHOLY CIR-
CUMSTANCES, 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 Yorkshireman'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 resolved (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.
PREPARING FOR A JOURNEY 693
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 recollections,
and Kate had so many anecdotes of Madeline, and Nicholas so
many ariecdotes of Frank, and each was so interested in what the
other said, and both were so happy and confiding, and had so much
to talk about, that it was not until they had 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 recognise, and
was fain to turn back again iiiji^uest 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 inquiry, when he was arrested
by a loud noise of scolding in a woman's voice.
' Oh come away ! ' said Kate. ' They are quarrelling. 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 ? '
' So I am, my life 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 ? '
' Dear Nicholas,' whispered Kate, ' you don't know who that is.
It's Mr. Mantalini I am confident.'
694 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
' Do make 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-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 moustache and whiskers as of yore, but lacking their lustrous
dye — there, endeavouring 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 tones, appeared almost
to deafen him — there was the graceful, elegant, fascinating, and once
dashing Mantalini.
' Oh you false traitor ! ' cried the lady, threatening personal
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. ''Fll tear your eyes out ! '
' Oh ! What a demd savage Iamb ! \ cried Mr. Mantalini.
' You're never to be trusted,' screamed the woman, ' you were out
all day yesterday,' and gallivantirig 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 lilce a gentleman,
but must you go on like this : breaking my heart besides ? '
' I will never break its heart, I wUl 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 his 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 pet and comfort ? Oh,
demmit.'
Very little a,ffected, to judge, from her action, by this tender
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 mean-
while convulsively.
' Demmit,' he cried, in a suffocating voice, ' it's little Nickleby 1
Shut the door, put out the candle, turn me up in the bedstead !
Oh, dem, dem, dem ! '
The woman looked, first at Nicholas; and then at Mr. Mantalini',
as if uncertain on whom to visit this extraordinary behaviour ; but
Mr. Mantalini happening by ill luck to thrust his nose from under
the bedclothes, in his anxiety to ascertain whether the visitors were
NICHO'LAS VISITS JOHN BROWDIE 695
gone, she suddenly and with a dexterity which could only have
been acquired by long practice flung a pretty heavy clothes-basket
at hini, 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 favourable
opportunity for departing before any of the torrent of her wrath
discharged itself upon him, Nicholas hurried Kate off, and left
the unfortunate 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 circum-
stances 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
recognised some place which he well remembered as having passed,
either on his journey do*n, or in the long walk back with poor
Smike, he could hardly believe 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, everything looked as if he had seen it
but yesterday, and not even a flake of the white crust on the roofs
had irieltedaway. Encouraging the train of ideas which flocked
upon him, he could almost persuade himself that he sat again out-
side 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, the 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 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 ? Ding, but thou mak'st noise eneaf ! '
With these words, John Browdie opened the door himself, and
696 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 hond, mun. Coom awa', coom
awa'. In wi' 'un, doon beside the fire ; tak' a soop o' that. 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 quarter 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 with
a broad grin of welcome overspreading his great 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,' replied John,
' but neane on 'em seemed quite to un'erstan' it Idike.'
' After various shiftings and delays,' said Nicholas, ' he has been
sentenced to be transported for seven years, for being in the un-
lawful 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 Faux 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 hoongry, and so am I ; and Tilly she mun' be at
the bottom o' a' explanations, for she says thot's 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 apologies for their having 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 substantials (of which heavy relays 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 parlour
having by this time burnt up, they adjourned thither, to hear what
Nicholas had to tell.
JOHN BROWDIE RIDES TO THE SCHOOL 697
Nicholas told them all, and never was there a story which
awakened so many emotions in the breasts of two eager listeners.
At one time, honest John groaned in sympathy, and at another
roared with joyj 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 car-
riage free, as mortal knife had never carved. When Nicholas began
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
friendship which he could not state with sufficient warmth in writing
— that the only object of his journey was to share his happiness
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 looking 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 schoolmeasther. 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 ! and Oh John agean,' replied the Yorkshireman. ' I dinnot
know what they lads mightn't do. When it first 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 declined, 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 '
' Bed ! ' cried John, ' I wish thou could'st sleep in fower beds at
once. Eeod 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 hand, John mounted his horse and rode off : leaving Mrs.
Browdie to apply herself to hospitable preparations, and his young
friend to stroll about the neighbourhood, and revisit spots which
were rendered familiar to him by many a miserable association.
698 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
John cantered away, and arriving art Dotheboys tiall, 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 convenient crevice in the
wall, he did not remain long in ignorance of its meaning.
The news of Mr. Squeers's downfall had reached Dotheboys;
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 amiable Wack-
ford : 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 variotfs
similar ways a great comfort and happiness to his mother. Their
entrance, whether by premeditation or a simultaneous impulse, was
the signal of revolt. While one detachment rushed to the door
and locked it, and another mounted the desks and forms, the
stoutest (and consequently the newest) boy seized the cane, and,
confronting 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 retaliation, 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 savoury 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 mali^
cious 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 clapping of hands, suddenly
ceased, and a dead silence ensued.
' Ye 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 1 '
'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 shrilly still.
^-.//ie^yi^eaAx/n^ ^u/i' a/'^/yo-me^,
THE SCHOOL BREAKING UP 699
' 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 oif as quick as you loike. Tak' a good breath noo— Squeers
be in jail— the school's brokken oop — it's a' ower— past and gane
—think o' thot, and let it be a hearty 'un ! Hurrah !_'
Such a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys Hall 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'll
sooffer eneaf wi'out any crowin' 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, thou may'st — thou'lt foind
Tilly and I wi' a thout o' old times aboot us, ready 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 soine days afterwards, the neighbouring 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 rumour John always returned a stout denial, which
he accompaiiied, however, with a lurking grin, that rendered the
suspicious doubtful, and fully confirmed all previous believers.
700 NICHOLAS NIC^LEBY
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
attachment which made them weep when the bolder spirits fled,
and cling to it as a refuge. Of these, some were found cr5dng
under hedges and in such places, frightened by the solitude. One
had a dead bird in a little cage ; he had wandered nearly twenty
miles, and when his poor favourite 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 recovered ;
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 neighbours, or to be only spoken of, as among the 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 Cheeryble. It was expected that
Tim Linkinwater and Miss La Creevy would have made a third
couple on the occasion, but they declined. Two or three weeks
afterwards they went out together 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 w^ife, he in-
vested in the firm of Cheeryble Brothers, in which Frank had become
a partner. Before many years elapsed, the business began to be
carried on in the names of ' Cheeryble and Nickleby,' so that Mrs.
Nickleby's prophetic anticipations were realised at last.
The twin brothers retired. Who needs to be told that i/i^y 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
THE WHOLE SUMMED UP 701
bedchamber in which he had slept for four-and-forty years. As his
wife grew older, she became even a more cheerful and light-hearted
httle creature J 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 without scruple, Mrs. Linkinwater grew very proud of
these achievements in time, and considered them among the most
successful 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 ' comfortable couple '
in the world, it was Mr. and Mrs. Linkinwater.
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 dishonestly ac-
quired 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 robbers, tempted by the rumours 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 returned. Brooker
died penitent. Sir Mulberry Hawk lived abroad for some years,
courted and caressed, and in high repute as a fine dashing felldw.
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 prosperous
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
702 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
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 courting 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 (especially 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 favour, and it is even
doubtful whether she ever thoroughly forgave her.
There was one grey-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 superintendence 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 siimmer-time, garlands
of firesh 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.
THE END
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