 Chapter 27 Mrs. Nickelby becomes acquainted with Mr. Pike and Pluck, whose affection and interest are beyond all bounds. Mrs. Nickelby had not felt so proud and important for many a day, as when, on reaching home, she gave herself wholly up to the pleasant visions which had accompanied her on her way thither. Lady Mulberry-Hawk, that was the prevalent idea. Lady Mulberry-Hawk, on Tuesday last, at St. George's Hanover Square by the right reverend the Bishop of Landoff, Mr. Mulberry-Hawk, of Mulberry Castle, North Wales to Catherine, only daughter of the late Nicholas Nickelby, Esquire of Devonshire. Upon my word, cried Mrs. Nicholas Nickelby, it sounds very well. Having dispatched the ceremony, with its attendant festivities to the perfect satisfaction of her own mind, the sanguine mother pictured to her imagination the long train of honors and distinction 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 birthday, which was upon the 19th of July, at ten minutes past three o'clock in the morning, thought Mrs. Nickelby in parentheses, for I recollect asking what o'clock it was. Sir Mulberry would give a great feast to all his tenants, and would return to them three and a half percent 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, lined 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 lines by the father of Sir Dingleby Dabber. More unlikely things have 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 charming and agreeable. With such tramps of aerial architecture, did Mrs. Nickelby occupy the whole evening after her accidental introduction to her roused-titled friends, and dreams, no less prophetic and equally promising, haunted her sleep that night. She was preparing for her frugal dinner next day, still occupied with the same ideas. A little softened down perhaps by sleep and daylight, when the girl who attended her, partly for company, and partly to assist in the household affairs, rushed into the room in unwanted agitation, and announced that two gentlemen were waiting in the passage for permission to walk upstairs. Bless my heart, cried Mrs. Nickelby, hastily arranging her cap in 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. Nickelby hastily swept into a cupboard all the 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, said one gentleman, laying great stress on the last word of inquiry? How do you do, said the other gentleman, altering the emphasis, as if to give variety to the salutation. Mrs. Nickelby curtsied and smiled, and curteed again, and remarked, rubbing her hands as she did so, that she had indeed, really, the honor to. To know us, said the first gentleman, the loss has been ours, Mrs. Nickelby. Has the loss been ours, Pike? It has, Pluck, answered the other gentleman. We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pike, 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. We have pined and languished for this happiness, Pike, have we not? You know we have, Pluck, said Pike, reproachfully. You hear him, ma'am, said Mr. Pluck, looking round. You hear the unimpeachable testimony of my friend, Pike. That reminds me, formalities, formalities, must not be neglected in civilized society. Pike, Mrs. Nickelby. Mr. Pike laid his hand upon his heart and bowed low. Whether I shall introduce myself with the same formalities, said Mr. Pluck. Whether I shall say it myself that my name is Pluck. Or whether I shall ask my friend, Pike, who now being regularly introduced as competent to the office, to state for me, Mrs. Nickelby. 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 Hawke. These, Mrs. Nickelby, are considerations which I leave for you to determine. Any friend of Sir Mulberry Hawke's requires no better introduction to me, observed Mrs. Nickelby graciously. It is delightful to hear you say so, said Mr. Pluck, drawing a chair close to Mrs. Nickelby and sitting himself down. It is refreshing to know that you hold my excellent friend, Sir Mulberry, in such high esteem, awarding your ear, Mrs. Nickelby. When Sir Mulberry knows it, he will be a happy man. I say, Mrs. Nickelby, a happy man. Pike, be seated. My good opinion, said Mrs. Nickelby, and the poor lady exuded in the idea that she was marvelously sly. My good opinion can be a very little consequence to a gentleman like Sir Mulberry. Of little consequence, exclaimed Mr. Pluck, Pike, of what consequence to our friend Sir Mulberry is a good opinion of Mrs. Nickelby. Of what consequence, echoed Pike. I repeated Pluck. Is it of the greatest consequence? Of the very greatest consequence, replied Pike. Mrs. Nickelby cannot be ignorant, said Mr. Pluck, of the immense impression on which that sweet girl has. Pluck, said his friend, beware. Pike is right, muttered Mr. Pluck after a short pause. I was not to mention it. Pike is very right. Thank you, Pike. Well now really, thought Mrs. Nickelby within herself. Such delicacy as that I never saw. Mr. Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great embarrassment for some minutes, resumed the conversation by intriguing Mrs. Nickelby to take no heed of what he had inadvertently said. To consider him imprudent, rash, and judicious, the only stipulation he would make in his own favor was that she should give him credit for the best intentions. But when, said Mr. Pluck, when I see such sweetness and beauty on the one hand, and so much ardor and devotion on the other, I, pardon me, Pike, I didn't intend to resume that theme. Change the subject, Pike. We promised Sir Mulberry and Lord Frederick, said, Pike, 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. Nickelby, 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 am really very subject to colds, indeed very subject. I had a cold once, said Mrs. Nickelby. I think it was in the year eighteen hundred and seventeen. Let me see. Four and five or nine, and yes, eighteen hundred and seventeen. That I thought I should never get rid of. Actually and seriously, that I thought I should never 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 a six-penth worth 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 had it ever since the beginning of September. What an afflicting calamity, said Mr. Pluck. Perfectly horrid, exclaimed Mr. Pluck. But it's worth the pain of hearing, only to know that Mrs. Nickelby recovered it. Isn't it, Pluck? cried Mr. Pluck. That is the circumstance which gives it a thrilling interest, replied Mr. Pluck. But come, said Pluck, as if suddenly recollecting himself, we must not forget our mission and the pleasure of this interview. We come on a mission, Mrs. Nickelby. On a mission, exclaimed that good lady, to whose mind a definite proposal of marriage for Kate had once presented itself in lively colors. From Sir Mulberry, replied Pike, you must be very dull here. Rather dull, I confess, said Mrs. Nickelby. We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a thousand entreaties that you'll take a seat in the private box at the play tonight, said Mr. Pluck. Oh, dear, said Mrs. Nickelby, I never go out at all, never. And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs. Nickelby, why you should go out tonight, retorted Mr. Pluck. Pike, entreat Mrs. Oh, pray do, said Pike. You positively must urge Pluck. You are very kind, said Mrs. Nickelby, hesitating, but there is not a but in the case, my dear Mrs. Nickelby, remonstrated Mr. Pluck. Not such a word in the vocabulary. Your brother-in-law joins us, Lord Frederick joins us, Sir Mulberry joins us, Pike 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. Nickelby. 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. Nickelby, said that excellent gentleman, lowering his voice, there is the most trifling, the most excusable breach of confidence of what I am about to say. And yet if my friend Pike there overheard it, such as that man's delicate sense of honor, Mrs. Nickelby, he'd have me out before dinner time. Mrs. Nickelby cast an apprehensive glance at the warlike Pike, 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 your devoted slave, hem. Ha! cried Mr. Pike at this juncture, snatching something from the chinny piece with theatrical air. What is this? What do I behold? What do you behold, my dear fellow? As Mr. Pluck. It is the face, the countenance, the expression, cried Mr. Pike, falling into his chair with a miniature in his hand, feebly portrayed, imperfectly caught, but still, the face, the countenance, the expression. I recognize it at this distance, exclaimed Mr. Pluck in a fit of enthusiasm. Is it not, my dear madam, the fate's similitude of? It is my daughter's portrait, said Mrs. Nickelby with great pride. And so it was. In little Miss Lucrevia had brought it home for inspection only two nights before. Mr. Pike no sooner ascertained that he was quite right in his conjecture, that he launched to the most extravenant coniums of the divine original, and in the warmth of his enthusiasm kissed the picture a thousand times. While Mr. Pluck pressed Mrs. Nickelby'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. Before Mrs. Nickelby, who had listened in a state of enviable complacency at first, became at length quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for, and attachment to, the family. And even the servant girl, who had peeped in at the door, remained rooted to the spot in astonishment at the ecstasies of the two friendly visitors. By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs. Nickelby 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 storeroom, and a lively recollection of how many steps she went down to get into the garden, and which way you turned when you came out at the parlor door, and what capital fixtures there were in the kitchen. This last reflection naturally conducted her into the wash house, where she stumbled upon the brewing utensils, among which she might have wandered for an hour, if the mere mention of those implements had not, by an association of ideas, instantly reminded Mr. Pike that he was amazing thirsty. And I'll tell you what, said Mr. Pike, if you'll send round to the public house for a pot of milk half and half, positively and actually I'll drink it. And positively and actually Mr. Pike did drink it, and Mr. Pluck helped him, while Mrs. Nickelby 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 here be observed that gentlemen who, like Mr. Pike and Pluck, lived upon their wits, or not so much perhaps, upon the presence of their own wits as upon the absence of wits of other people, are occasionally reduced to the very narrow shifts and straights, and are at such periods accustomed to regale themselves in a very simple and primitive manner. At twenty minutes before seven then, said Mr. Pike, rising, the coach will be here. One more look, one little look, at that sweet face. Ah, here it is. Unmoved. Unchanged. This, by 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. Nickelby's hand with a great show of feeling and attachment. Mr. Pike, having done the same, both gentlemen hastily withdrew. Mrs. Nickelby 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 where her own sharp suddenness 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. Nickelby. 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 was almost resolved to walk straight to Miss Lacrevy's and tell it all to her. But I don't know, thought Miss Nickelby. She's a very worthy person, but I'm afraid too much beneath Sir Mulberry's station for us to make a companion of. Poor thing. Acting upon this great consideration, she rejected the idea of taking a little portrait painter into her confidence, and contented herself with holding out sundry vague and mysterious hopes for firmament to the servant girl, who received these obscure hints of dawn and greatness with much veneration and respect. Punctual to its time came the promised vehicle, which was no hattiny 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 Miss Nickelby 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 head, she sat in a state of much stuffiness and dignity, not a little proud of her position. At the theatre entrance there was more banging and more bustle, and there were also a mysterious pike in pluck, waiting to escort her to her box. And so polite were they that Mr. Pike threatened with many oasts to smithilgate a very old man with a lantern who accidentally stumbled in her way, to the great terror of Mrs. Nickelby, who, conjecturing more from Mr. Pike's excitement than any previous acquaintance with the etymology of the world that smithilgation and bloodshed must be in the main one and the same thing, was alarmed beyond expression lest something should occur. Fortunately, however, Mr. Pike confined himself to mere verbal smithilcation, and they reached their box with no more serious interruption by the way, than a desire on the part of the sane pugnation's gentleman to smash the assistant boxkeeper for happening to mistake the number. Mrs. Nickelby had scarcely been put away behind the curtain of the box in an armchair, when Sir Mulberry and Lord Varyshop derived, 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 horser than on the previous day, and Lord Varyshop'd looked rather sleepy and queer, from which tokens, as well as from the circumstance of their both being to a trifling extent unsteady upon their legs, Miss Nickelby justly concluded that they had taken dinner. We have been... we have been toasting your lovely daughter, Mrs. Nickelby, 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 Huck. It's you that's kind. Upon my soul it is. It was so kind of you to come tonight. So very kind of you to invite me, you mean, Sir Mulberry, replied Mrs. Nickelby, 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 infernally selfish. I am upon my soul I am. I am sure you can't be selfish, Sir Mulberry, replied Mrs. Nickelby. You have much too open and generous accountants for that. What an extraordinary observer you are, said Sir Mulberry Huck. Oh, no indeed. I don't see very far into things, Sir Mulberry, replied Mrs. Nickelby, 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. Nickelby. She is so immensely sharp. Mishir as Pike and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously and observed together that they had found that out long ago. Upon which Mrs. Nickelby tittered, and Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pike and Pluck roared. But where is my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry? inquired Mrs. Nickelby. I shouldn't be here without him. I hope he's coming. Pike, 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 is Ralph Nickelby? Pluck, said Pike, imitating the baronet's action, and turning the lie over to his friend. Where is Ralph Nickelby? Mr. Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when the hustle caused by a party entering the next box seemed to track the attention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged glances of much meaning. The new party began 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. Nickelby. What is the matter? Hush! replied Sir Mulberry, laying his hand on her arm. Lord Frederick, do you not recognize the tones of that voice? Devil take me if I didn't think it was the voice of Mrs. Nickelby. Lord, my Lord, cried Mrs. Nickelby's maw, thrusting her head round the curtain. Why, actually, Kate, my dear Kate! Do you hear, Mama? Is it possible? Possible, my dear? Yes. Why, who? Who on earth is a day 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. Nickelby, binging towards Miss Witterly and speaking a little louder for that lady's edification. There's Mr. Pike, Mr. Pluck, Sir Mulberry Hawk, and Lord Frederick How come she in such society? Now, Kate thought thus so hurdly, and the surprise was so great, and moreover brought back so forcefully the recollection of what it passed at Ralph's delectable dinner, that she turned extremely pale and appear greatly agitated. Which symptoms being observed by Mrs. Nickelby were at once set down by that acute lady as being caused an occasion by violent love. But, although she was in no small degree delighted by this discovery, which had no 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 Miss Witterly. Miss Witterly, keenly alive to the glory of having a Lord and Baronette among her visiting acquaintances, lost no time in singling to Mr. Witterly to open the door. And thus it was that in less than thirty seconds, Mrs. Nickelby which it filled to the very door. There being in fact only room for Miss Sure's pike and pluck to get in their heads in waist coats. My dear Kate, said Mrs. Nickelby, kissing her daughter affectionately. How ill you looked a moment ago. You quite frightened me, I declare. It was mere fancy mama, though the reflection of the lights perhaps replied Kate, glancing at her. 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. Nickelby officially informing Kate of the circumstance, she was obliged to extend her own. Sir Mulberry detained it while he murmured a perfusion of compliments, which Kate, remembering then followed the recognition of Lord Varshopt, and then the greeting of Mr. Pike, and then that of Mr. Pluck. And finally, to complete the young lady's mortification, she was compelled at Miss Whitterley's request to perform the ceremony of introducing the odious persons whom she regarded with the utmost indignation and aberrance. Mrs. Whitterley is delighted, said Mr. Mulberry, you must not allow yourself to be much too excited. You must not. Indeed you must not. Mrs. Whitterley 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 upset. He said, however, that the delight was mutual, and Lord Varshop added that it was mutual, where a palmishure's pike and pluck were heard to murmur from a distance that it was very mutual indeed. I take an interest, my Lord, said Miss Whitterley, with a faint smile, such an interest in the drama. Yes, it's very great after a tragedy, my Lord, and Shakespeare is such a delicious creature. Yes, replied Lord Varshop. He was a clever man. You know, my Lord, said Miss Whitterley after a long silence. I find I take so much more interest in his plays, after having been to that dear doll-house where he was born in. Were you ever there, my Lord? No, I was languid in drawing 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. Yes, replied Lord Varshop. I shall certainly go there. Julia, my life, interpose Mr. Whitterley. You are deceiving your ethereal soul, your fervent 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. Nickelby, who had been listening in silence. For soon after I was married, I went to I recollect remarking at the time that the driver had a green shade over his left eye and a post-chase from Birmingham. And after we had seen Shakespeare's tomb in birthplace, 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 in thinking. And it was Shakespeare, just as he had been when he was alive, which was very curious indeed. Stratford. Stratford, continued Mrs. Nickelby 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, that I have been. When Mrs. Nickelby had brought this interesting anecdote to a close, Pike and Pluck, ever zealous in their patron's cause, proposed the adjournment of the detachment of the party into the next box. And so with much skill were the preliminaries adjusted, that Kate, despite all she could say her due to the contrary, had no alternative but to suffer herself to be led away by Sir Mulberry Hawke. Her mother and Mr. Pluck accompanied them, took particular care to not so much as 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. Nickelby for that special purpose, neglected on his side no possible opportunity of engrossing her attention. Lord Frederick Vereshopt remained in the next box to be talked to by Mrs. Witterly and Mr. Pike was in attendance in the body of the house, informing such of his friends and acquaintances as happened to be there, that those two gentlemen upstairs, whom they had seen in conversation with Mrs. W, were the distinguished Lord Frederick Vereshopt and his most intimate friend, the gay Sir Mulberry Hawke, a communication which inflamed several respectable housekeepers with the utmost jealousy and rage and reduced dares by the detested Sir Mulberry and so skillfully were the maneuvers of Mr. Pike and Pluck conducted that she and the baronet were the last of the party and were even without the 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 detain me, Sir, said Kate angrily. And why not? retorted Sir Mulberry. My dear creature, now why do you keep up the show of displeasure? Show, 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, Mrs. Nickelby, said Kate. If you find any attraction and looks of disgust and aversion, you, let me rejoin my friend, Sir, instantly. Whatever considerations may have withheld me thus far, I will disregard them all and take a course that even you might feel if you not immediately suffer me to proceed. Sir Mulberry smiled and looking down towards an unmanly persecution, said Kate, scarcely knowing in the two multiple passions what she said, I have a brother who will resent it dearly one day. Upon my soul exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though quietly communing with himself, passing in his arms round her waist as he spoke. She looks more beautiful and I like her better in this mood than to cross it without at all regarding them and disengaged yourself suddenly from her companion, sprang into the coach and throwing herself into its darkest corner burst into tears. Mr. Pike and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw the party into great commotion by shouting for the carriages and getting up a violent quarrel with sundry inoffensive bystanders in the midst of which tumult also they had now effectually distracted from the young lady by throwing her into a state of the most bewildered consternation. At length the convenience in which she had come rolled off too with its load and the four worthy's being left alone under the portico enjoyed a hearty laugh together. There said Sir Mulberry turning to his noble friend didn't I be our own? Why here it is done in four and twenty hours. Yes replied the dup but I have been tied to the woman all night. 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 attempt? Isn't it the truth? Demended very shot. 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 a pretty sulk 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 devilishly good fellow, said the poor young Lord taking his friend's arm. Upon my life, you're a devilishly good fellow, Hawk. And I have done right, have I? Demanded Sir Mulberry. Quite right. And like a poor, silly, yes, like a friend, replied the other. Well then, replied Sir Mulberry, I'm satisfied. And now let us go and have a revenge on the German Baron and the Frenchman, 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 amassure his pike and pluck. Who, cramming their handkerchiefs into their mouths to denote their silent words, followed their patron and his victim at a little distance. End of Chapter 27. Recording by James Christopher, J. X. Christopher at yahoo.com. Chapter 28 of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org. This recording by Patti Brugman. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Nicholas Nickleby Chapter 28. 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 the preceding evening by the active agencies of Messers Pike and Pluck. The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk as such a term can be applied to the thoughts of a 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 Nickelby and were in brief that she was undoubtedly handsome, that her coyness must be easily conquerable by a man of his address and experience, and that the pursuit was one which could not fail to redound in his credit, and greatly to enhance his reputation with the world. Unless 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 the limited circle alone they are ambitious for distinction and applause. Sir 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 it defiant so completely the opinion of the world. But there is no greater fallacy. It is precisely because they do consult the opinion of their own little world that such things take place at all, and strike the great world dumb with amazement. The reflections of Mrs. Nickelby were of the proudest and most complacent kind. Under the influence of her very agreeable delusion, she straightaway sat down and indicted 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. Nickelby, would have chosen for her son-in-law if she had the picking and choosing from all mankind. The good lady then, with the preliminary observation that she might be fairly supposed not to have lived in the world so long without knowing its ways, communicated a great many 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. Nickelby, 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 instalment of her own excellent sense and discretion to nearly the full measure of which she might hope with care to succeed in time. Mrs. Nickelby concluded a very long and, rather, illegible letter. Poor Kate was well night 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 rending herself agreeable to Mrs. Witterly, who, being in low spirits after the fatigue of the preceding night, of course expected her companion elsewhere forehead she bore in salary, to be in the best spirits possible. As to Mr. Witterly, he went about all day in a tremor of delight at having shaken hands with the 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 Messers Pike and Pluck, 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. Witterly reclined, according to custom on the drawing room sofa, while Kate read aloud a new novel in three volumes entitled The Lady Flabella, which alphons the doubtful had procured from the library that very morning. And it was a production admirably suited to a Lady laboring under Mrs. Witterly's complaint, seeing that there was not a line in it from beginning to end which could, by the most remote contingency, awaken the smallest excitement in any person breathing. Kate read on, Cheritse, 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 Belle Filière in the duke of Mince-Feniel, salon de dance on the previous night. Cheritse, mon cher, donnez-moi, délai-oupe, déclone, si vous plaît mon enfant. Merci. Thank you. Said the Lady Flabella, as the lively but devoted Cheritse, plentifully besprinkled with the fragrant compound, the Lady Flabella is mon choix of the finest cambrick, edged with richest lace and emblazoned, at the four corners with the Flabella crest, and gorgeous heraldic bearings of that normal family. Merci, that will do. At that instant, while the Lady Flabella yet inhaled that delicious fragrance by holding the mouchoir to her exquisite but thoughtfully chiseled 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 to valer de chambre, clad in sumptuous liveries of peach blossom and gold, advanced into the room followed by a page in bas-de-soie silk stockings, who, well, they remained at some distance-making, the most graceful obeisans, 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 zeal. It was Belfier, the young at the slim, the low-voiced, her own, Belfier. O charming interrupted Kate's patroness, who was sometimes taken literally, poetic, really, read that description again, Miss Nicolby. Kate complied. Sweet indeed, said Miss Witterly, with a sigh, so voluptuous, is it not? So soft. Yes, I think it is, replied Kate gently, very soft. Close the book, Miss Nicolby, said Miss Witterly, I can hear nothing more today. I should be sorry to disturb the impression of that sweet description. Close the book. Kate complied, not unwittingly, and as she did so, Mrs. Witterly, 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. Witterly 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 would have been nothing to it. How did you come to know, Lord Frederick, and the other delightful creature's child? Asked Mrs. Witterly, still eyeing Kate through her glass. I met them at my uncle, 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. Witterly 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 Nicolby should grow conceited on the honour and dignity of having known four great people, for Pike and Pluck were included among the delightful creatures, who Mrs. Witterly did not know. But as the circumstance had made no impression one where the other upon Kate's mind, the force of the observation was quite lost upon her. They asked permission to call, said Mrs. Witterly. I gave it to them, of course. Do you expect them to day, Kate ventured to inquire? Mrs. Witterly's answers was lost, in the noise of a tremendous wrapping at the street door, and, before it had ceased to vibrate, there drove up a handsome cabriolet, out of which lit Sir Mollery Hawke and his friend Lord Frederick. They are here now, said Kate, rising and hurrying away. Miss Nicolby cried Mrs. Witterly perfectly aghast at the companions 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. Witterly with great sharpness. Dear me, Miss Nicolby, I beg—it was in vain for Kate to protest that she was unwell for the 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. Pike and Mr. Pluck, and Lord Frederick, their spot, and Sir Mollery Hawke, all in at one burst. The most extraordinary thing in the world, said Pluck, saluting both ladies with the utmost cordiality, the most extraordinary thing. As Lord Frederick and Sir Mollery drove up to the door, Pike and I had that instant knocked. That instant knocked, said Pike. No matter how you came, so that you are here, said Mrs. Witterly 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 Nicolby, said Sir Mollery Hawke, accosting Kate in a low voice, not so low, however, but that it reached the ears of Mrs. Witterly? Why, she complains of suffering from the fright 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 Mollery, turning around, and yet you look. Beyond everything, said Mr. Pike, coming to his patron's assistance. Of course, Mr. Pluck said the same. I am afraid Sir Mollery is a flatterer, my lord, said Mrs. Witterly, turning to that young gentleman who had been sucking the head of his cane in silence and staring at Kate. Oh, devilish, replied the Lord, having giving utterance to which remarkable sentiment he occupied himself as before. Neither does Miss Nicolby look the worse, said Sir Mollery, bending his bold gaze upon her. She was always handsome, but upon my soul, ma'am, you seem to have imparted some of your own good looks to her besides. To judge from the glow which suffused the poor girl's countenance after the speech, Mrs. Witterly might, with some slow of reason, have been supposed to have imparted to it some of that artificial bloom which decorated her own, Mrs. Witterly admitted, though not, with the best grace in the world, that Kate did look pretty. She began to think, too, that Sir Mollery was not quite so agreeable a creature as she had at first supposed him, for although a skillful 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. Pike, said the watchful Mr. Pluck, observing the effect which the praise of Mrs. Nicolby had produced. Well, Pluck, said Pike. Is there anybody demanded Mr. Pluck mysteriously? Anybody you know who Mrs. Witterly's profile reminds you of? Reminds me of, answered Pike. Of course there is. Who do you mean, said Pluck, in the same mysterious manner? The D of B? The C of B, replied Pike. With the faintest trace of a grin lingering in his countenance, the beautiful sister is the Countess, not the Duchess. True, said Pluck, the C of B, the resemblance is wonderful. Perfectly startling, said Mr. Pike. Here was the state of things. Mrs. Witterly was declared upon the testimony of two voracious 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 groveling people for twenty years and never heard of it. How could she indeed? What did they know about Countesses? The two gentlemen, having by the greediness with which this little bait was swallowed, tested the extent of Mrs. Witterly's appetite for adulation, proceeded to administer that commodity in very large doses, thus affording to Solmere Berry Hawk, an opportunity of pestering Mrs. Nicolby with questions and remarks, to which she was absolutely obliged to make some reply. Meanwhile Lord Frederick enjoyed unmolested, the full flavor of the gold knob at the top of his cane, as he would have done to the end of the interview if Mr. Witterly had not come home and caused the conversation to turn to his favorite topic. My lord, said Mr. Witterly, 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. Witterly said all this for, although she was bursting with pride and arrogance, the illustrious guests believed that their visit was quite a common occurrence and that they had lords and baronettes to see them every day in the week, but Mr. Witterly's feelings were beyond the power of suppression. It is an honor indeed, said Mr. Witterly. Julia, my soul, will you suffer for this tomorrow? Suffer, cried Lord Frederick. The reaction, my lord, the reaction, said Mr. Witterly. This violent strain upon the nervous system over, my lord, what ensues. A sinking, a depression, a loneliness, a lassitude, a debility, my lord of Sir Tumley's snuffum, was to see that delicate creature in this moment. He would not give a this for her life. In illustration, which remarked, Mr. Witterly took a pinch of snuff from his box and jerked it lightly into the air as an emblem of instability. Not that, said Mr. Witterly, looking about him with a serious countenance, Sir Tumley's snuffum would not give that for Mrs. Witterly's existence. Mr. Witterly told this with a kind of sober exaltation, as if it were no trifling distinction for a man to have a wife in such a desperate state, and Mrs. Witterly sighed and looked on as if she felt an honor, but had determined to bear it as meekly as might be. Mrs. Witterly, said her husband, is Sir Tumley's snuffum's favorite patient. I believe I may venture to say that Mrs. Witterly is the first person who took the new medicine which is supposed to have destroyed a family in Kensington gravel pits. I believe she was. If I am wrong, Julia, my dear, you will correct me. I believe I was, says Mrs. Witterly in a faint voice. As there appeared to be some doubt in the mind of the patron how he could best join in this conversation the indefatigable Mr. Pike threw himself onto the breach and, by way of saying something to the point, inquired with reference to the aforesaid medicine whether it was nice. No, sir, it was not. It had not even that recommendation, said Mr. W. Mrs. Witterly is quite a martyr, observed Pike with a complimentary bow. I think I am, said Mrs. Witterly 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. Witterly, wheeling round to the nobleman, will produce to me a greater martyr than Mrs. Witterly all I can say is that I shall be glad to see that martyr whether male or female. That is all, my lord. Pike and Pluck promptly remarked that certainly nothing could be fairer than that, and the call having been by the time protected to the very length, they obeyed Sir Mulberry's look and rose to go. This brought Sir Mulberry himself and Lord Frederick to 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 Witterlies 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 constantly to and fro on all, that they made parties to visit public places, and met by accident at lounges, that upon all these occasions Ms. Nicolby was exposed to the constant and unremitting persecution of Sir Mulberry Hawk, who now began to feel his character even in the estimation of his two dependents, involved in a successful reduction of her pride, that she had no intervals of peace or rest except at those hours when she could sit in her solitary room and weep over the trials of the day. All these were consequences naturally flowing from the well-laid plans of Sir Mulberry, and their able execution by the auxiliaries Pike and Pluck. And thus, for a fortnight matters went on. That any but the weakest and silliest of people could have seen in one interview that Lord Frederick very soft, 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 luster in the society of ladies, need scarcely be remarked, but with Mrs. Witterley, the two titles were all sufficient. Courseness became humor, vulgarity softened itself down into the most charming eccentricity, insolence took the guise of an easy absence of reserve, attainable only by those who had had the good fortune to mix with high folks. If the mistress put such a construction upon the behavior of her new friends, what could the companion urge against them? If they accustomed themselves to very little restraint before the lady of the house, with how much more freedom could they address her paid dependent? Nor was this the worst. As the odious Sir Mulberry Hawk attached himself to Kate with less and less disguise, Mrs. Witterley began to grow jealous of the superior attraction of Miss Nicolby. If this feeling had led to her banishment from the drawing room when such company was there, Kate would have been only too happy and willing that it should have existed. But unfortunately for her she possessed that native grace and true gentility of manner and those thousand nameless accomplishments 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 modification 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 Miss Witterley's ill-humoured and caprices when they were gone. She became utterly and completely miserable. Mrs. Witterley 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 this dreadful idea that Lord Frederick very soft also was somewhat taken with Kate and that she, Mrs. Witterley, was quite a secondary person, dawned upon that lady's mind and gradually developed itself. She became obsessed with a large quantity of highly popular and the most virtuous indignation and felt that her duty as a married lady and a moral member of the society to mention the circumstance to the young person without delay. Accordingly Mrs. Witterley broke ground next morning during a pause in the novel reading. Miss Nicolby said, Mrs. Witterley, I wish to speak to you very gravely. I'm sorry to have to do it upon my word. I'm very sorry, but you leave me no alternative, Miss Nicolby. Here Mrs. Witterley 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 behavior, Miss Nicolby, 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 on it, Miss Nicolby. 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 Nicolby. Don't, said Mrs. Witterley with some violence, or you'll compel me to ring the bell. Kate looked at her, but said nothing. You needn't suppose, resumed Miss Witterley, that you're looking at me in that way. Miss Nicolby will prevent my saying what I am going to say, which I feel to be a religious duty. You needn't direct your glances toward me, said Mrs. Witterley with a sudden burst of spite. I am not, sir Amalbury. No, nor sir Frederick, very soft, Miss Nicolby. Nor am I Mr. Pike, nor Mr. Plock either. Kate looked at her again but less steadily than before, and resting her elbow on the table covered her eyes with her hand. If such things had been done when I was a young girl, said Mrs. Witterley, this, by 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 Nicolby, if you please, said Mrs. Witterley with a shrillness of tone, quite surprising in so great an invalid. I will not be answered, Miss Nicolby. I am not accustomed to be answered, nor will I permit it for an instant. Do you hear? She added, waiting with some apparent inconsistency for an answer. I do hear you, ma'am, replied Kate, with a surprise and 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. Witterley. And, as you are a person of healthy appearance and neat in your dress and so forth, I have taken an interest in you, as I do still, considering that I owe a sort of duty to that respectable old female, your mother. For these reasons, Miss Nicolby, I must tell you once and for all, and begging you to mind what I say, then I must insist upon your immediately altering your very forward behavior to the gentleman who visit at this house. It really is not becoming, said Mrs. Witterley, closing her chaste eyes as she spoke, it is improper, quite improper. Oh, cried Kate, looking upwards and clasping her hands, is not this, is not this too cruel, too hard to bear? Is it not enough that I should have suffered, as I have, night and day, that I should have sunk in my own estimation from very shame of having been brought into contact with such people, but I must also be exposed to this unjust and most unfounded charge? You will have the goodness to recollect, Miss Nicolby, said Mrs. Witterley, that when you use such terms as unjust and unfounded, you charge me, in effect, with stating that which is untrue. Said Kate, with honest indignation, whether you make this accusation of yourself or at the promoting of others is alike to me. I say it is vilely, grossly, willfully untrue. It is possible, cried Kate, that any one of my own sex can have said by and not have seen the misery of these men have caused me. It is possible that you, ma'am, can have been present and failed to mark the insulting freedom that there every look bespoke. It is possible that you can have avoided seeing that these libertines in their utter disrespect for you and utter disregard of all gentlemanly behavior and almost of decency have had but one object in introducing themselves here, and that the furtherance of their designs upon the friendless, helpless girl who without this humiliating confession might have hoped to receive for 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. Witterly 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 illusion being made to her being held in disregard by the gentleman, she evinced a violent emotion, and this blow was no sooner followed up by the remark concerning her seniority that she fell back upon the sofa, uttering dismal screams. What is the matter? cried Mr. Witterly, bouncing into the room heavens. What do I see, Julia? Julia, look up. My life, look up. But Julia looked down, most perseveringly, and screamed still louder. So Mr. Witterly rang the bell and danced in a frenzied manner, round the sofa on which Mrs. Witterly lay, uttering perpetual cries for Sir Tumley's snuff him, and never once leaving off to ask for any explanation of the scene before him. Run for Sir Tumley, cried Mr. Witterly, menacing the page with both fists. I knew it, Miss Nicolby, he said, looking around 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. Witterly took up the prostrate form of Mrs. Witterly and carried her bodily off to bed. Kate waited until Sir Tumley snuff him, had paid his visit, and looked in with a report that, through the special interposition of a merciful providence, thus spake, Sir Tumley, Mrs. Witterly 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 toward her uncle's house. It had been a good day with Ralph Nicolby, 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 this morning, his mouth was drawn into a hard-stern smile. While the firmness of the lines and curves that made it up, as well as the cunning glance of his cold, bright eye, seemed to tell that if any resolution or cunning would increase the profits, they would not fail to be exerted for the purpose. Very good, said Ralph in allusion no doubt to some proceeding of the day. He defies the user, 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 to dross. Who's that? Me, said Newman-nogs, looking in, your niece. What of her, asked Ralph sharply. She's here. Here. Newman jerked his head toward the little room to signify that she was waiting there. What does she want, asked Ralph? I don't know, rejoined Newman. Shall I ask? He added quickly. No, replied Ralph, show her in. Stay. He hastily put away a padlocked cash box that was on the table and substituted it instead an empty purse. There, said Ralph, now she may come in. Newman, with a grim smile at this maneuver, 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 toward anybody else. Well, my dear, well, what now? Kate raised her eyes, which were filled with tears, and with an effort to master her emotions 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 the 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 burned here, 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 Sterling. I 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, how would the more shame on you, Uncle, for bringing me among them? To have subjected me to what I was exposed to here through any misplaced confidence or imperfect 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 plan, 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 UIC, said Ralph, speaking in his harshest tones, as something in the flashing eye that reminded him of Nicholas at their last meeting. I hope there is, replied Kate. I should be proud to know it. I am young, Uncle, and all the difficulties and miseries of my situation have kept it down. But I have been roused today beyond all endurance, and come what may I 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, coloring 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 his head away 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 counselor, no advisor, no one to protect me. Mama supposes that these are honorable men, rich and distinguished, and how can I, how can I, un-deceive them? When she is so happy in these little delusions, which are the only happiness she has, the lady with whom you placed me is not the person to whom you could confine 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 entreat and implore you to assist me. How can I, assist you, child, said Ralph, rising from his chair and pacing up and down the room in his old attitude? You have influenced 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 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 in a step or two and looked at him as if in doubt whether she had heard a right. We are connected in business, said Ralph, poising himself alternately on his toes and heels and looking coolly in his nieces' face, in business, and I can't afford to offend them. What is it after all? We have all our trials and this is one of yours. Some girls would be proud to have such galons at their feet. Proud, cried Kate, I don't say rejoined Ralph, raising his finger, but that you do right to despise them. No, you show your good incense in that and indeed I knew from the first you would. Well, in all other respects, you are comfortably bestowed. It's not much to bear, but this young lord does dog your footsteps and whisper to his dribbling inanities in your ears. What of it? It's a dishonorable passion, so be it, it won't last long. Some other novelty will spring up one day and you will be released. In the meantime, in the meantime interrupted Kate with becoming pride and indignation, I am to be the scorn of my own sex and the toy of the other, just like 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 labor. 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 Nickelby motionless as a statue. The surprise with which Kate, as she closed the room door, beheld close behind it, new and nog standing bolt upright and a little niche in the wall like some scarecrow or guy foe, lay in the winter quarters, almost occasioned her to call aloud, but Newman, laying his finger upon his lips, she had the presence of mind to refrain. Don't, said Newman, lighting out of the recess and accompanying her across the hall. Don't cry, don't cry, two very large tears. By the by were running down Newman's face as he spoke. I see how it is, said poor nogs, trying 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 it. It was right not to give way before him. Yes, yes, ha, ha, ha, oh yes, poor thing. And these disjointed exclamations, Newman wiped his own eyes with the aforementioned duster and limply to the street door opened it to let her out. Don't cry any more, whispered Newman. I shall see you soon, ha, ha, ha. And so shall somebody else too, yes, yes, ho, ho. God bless you, answered Kate, hurrying out, God bless you. Same to you rejoined Newman, opening the door again and a little way to say, ha, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho. And Newman nogs opened the door once again to nod cheerfully and laugh and shut it and shake his head mournfully and cry. Ralph remained in the same attitude until 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 toward 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. Ugg, 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 user turned for consolation to his books and paper, a performance was going on outside his office door, which would have occasioned him no small surprise. If he could by any means have become acquainted with it. Newman Noggs was the sole actor. He stood at a little distance from the door with his face toward 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, this sight 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 eagerness and joy depicted in the face of Newman Noggs, which was suffused with perspiration, the surprising energy with which he directed a constant succession of blows toward 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 thrashing to within an inch of its life, his body's most active employer, Mr. Ralph Nickelby. End of chapter 28. Chapter 29 of Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please go to LibriVox.org. This recording by Patty Brugman. Chapter 29 of Nicholas Nickelby. Of the proceedings of Nicholas and certain internal divisions in the company of Mr. Vincent Krummels. The unexpected success and favor with which his experiment at Portsmouth had been received induced Mr. Krummels 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 theater who had never been seen there before that a benefit was considered by the manager a very promising speculation. Nicholas ascending to the terms proposed, the benefit was had, and by it he realized no less than a sum of 20 pounds. Possessed of this unexpected wealth, his first act was to enclose to Honest John Brody 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 Nogs he forwarded one half of the sum he had realized in treating 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 in treating that worthy friend to write floral particulars of the situation of his mother and sister and an account of all the grand things that Ralph Nicolby 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, rejoin Nicholas, with assumed gaiety for the confession would have made the boy miserable all night. "'I was thinking about my sister, Smike. "'Sister, hey, is she like you,' implied Smike. "'Why, so they say,' replied Nicholas, laughing, only a great deal handsomely. "'She must be very beautiful,' said Smike after thinking a little while, with his hands folded together and his eyes bent upon his friend. "'Anybody who didn't know you well as I do, my dear fellow would say that 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 you who are so kind and good to me have nobody to be kind to you?' asked Smike. "'I cannot make that out.' "'Oh, 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 he has done me wrong.' "'Has he, though?' asked Smike, bending forward, eagerly. "'What is his name? Tell me his name.' Ralph. Ralph Nickelby. Ralph Nickelby,' 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. Fuller, the pantomimist, thrust in his head. Mr. Fuller'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 new-market coat, which was very tight and buttoned all the way up. He carried in one hand, one very dirty glove, and a cheap dress cane with the 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. Fuller, taking off the tall hat and running his fingers through his hair. I bring a communication—ahem—from whom, and what about? inquired Nicholas. You are unusually mysterious tonight. And perhaps return, Mr. Fuller, cold perhaps. That is the fault of my position, not of myself, Mr. Johnson. My position as a mutual friend requires it. Mr. Fuller paused, with the most impressive look, and, diving into the hat, before noticed, drew from thence a small piece of whitey-brown paper curiously folded, whence he brought forth a note, which it had served to keep clean, and handing it over to Nicholas, said. Have the goodness to read that, sir. Nicholas, in a state of much amazement, took the note and broke the seal, glancing at Mr. Fuller, 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, E. S. Q., by favour of Augustus Fuller, E. S. Q., and the astonishment of Nicholas was in no degree lessened when he founded 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 tomorrow 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 on any account, whatever. Portsmouth, Tuesday night. Indignant as he was at this impertence, there was something so exquisitely absurd in search of a cartel of defiance. The 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 slightest degree. Do you know the contents of this note, sir? He asked at length. Yes, rejoined Mr. Fuller, looking round for an instant and immediately carrying his eyes back to the ceiling. And how dare you bring it here, sir? Asked Nicholas, tearing it into little pieces and jerking it in a shower towards the messenger. Had you no fear of being kicked downstairs, sir? Mr. Fuller turned his head now, ornamented with several fragments of the note, toward Nicholas, and with the same imperturbable dignity briefly replied, no. Then, said Nicholas, taking up the tall hat and tossing it toward the door, you had better follow that article of your dress, sir, or you may find yourself very disagreeably deceived, and that within a dozen seconds. I say, Johnson, remonstrated Mr. Fuller, suddenly losing his dignity. None of that, you know. No tricks with a gentleman's wardrobe. Leave the room, returned Nicholas. How could you presume to come here on such an air and you scoundrel? Poo-poo, said Mr. Fuller, unwinding his comforter and gradually letting himself out of it. There, that's enough. Enough, cried Nicholas, advancing toward him. Take yourself, officer. Poo-poo, I tell you, returned Mr. Fuller, waving his hand in deprecation of any further wrath. I wasn't an earnest. I only brought it as a joke. You had better be careful how you indulge in such jokes again, said Nicholas, or you may find an illusion to pulling noses rather a dangerous reminder for the subject of your facetiousness. Was it written in joke two, pray? No, no, that's the best of it, returned to the actor, right down earnest, on a bright. Nicholas could not repress a smile at the odd figure before him, which at all times more calculated to provoke mirth and anger was especially so at that moment. When, with one knee upon the ground, Mr. Fuller twirled his old hat upon his head and defected the extremist agony, lest any of the knaps should have been knocked off, an ornament which 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. While I'll tell you how it is, said Mr. Fuller, sitting himself down in a chair with great coolness, since you came here, Lendville has done nothing but second business, and instead of having a reception every night as he used to have, they have let him come on as if he was nobody. What do you mean by a receptionist, Nicholas? Jupiter, exclaimed Mr. Fuller, what an unsophisticated shepherd you are, Johnson, why, applause from the house when you first came 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 tibbles 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. Fuller quite seriously. But his heart failed him and he cast about for some other way of annoying you and making himself popular at the same time, for that's the point. Notoriety, notoriety is the thing. Bless you if he had pinked you, said Mr. Fuller, stopping to make a calculation in his mind, it would have been worth, it would have been worth eight or 10 shillings a week to him. All the town would have come to see the actor who nearly killed a man by mistake. I shouldn't wonder if it had got him an engagement in London. However, he was obliged to try some other mode of getting popular and this one occurred to him. It's a clever idea, really. If you had shown the white feather and let him pull your nose, he'd have got it into the paper and if you had sworn the peace against him, it would have been in the paper, too. And he'd have been just as much talked about as you, don't you see? Oh, certainly rejoined Nicholas, but suppose I were to turn the tables and to pull his nose, what then? Would that make us fortune? Why, I don't think it would, replied Mr. Fuller, scratching his head because there wouldn't be any romance about it and he wouldn't be favorably known. To tell you the truth, though, he didn't calculate much upon that for you're always so mild-spoken and are so popular among the women that we didn't suspect you of showing fight. If you did, however, he has a way of getting out of it easily depend upon that. Has he, rejoined Nicholas? We will try tomorrow morning. In the meantime, you can give whatever account of our interview you like best. Good night. As Mr. Fuller 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 Trajean 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. Fuller, taking the caution 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 theater 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 Trajian so that the latter formed a little group about the reducible Mr. Lenville and the former looked on at a little distance in some trepidation and anxiety. On Nicholas stopping to salute the Mr. Lenville laugh to scornful laugh and made some general remark touching on the natural history of puppies. Oh, said Nicholas, looking quietly around. 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 startled, as if Nicholas did not look quite so frightened as he is 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 the very unexpected enjoyment of this performance and the ladies, by way of encouragement, laughed louder than before. Where at Mr. Lenville assumed his bitterest smile and expressed his opinion that they were minions. But they shall not protect ye, said the Trajian, 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, too, looks as everybody knows, expressed 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 melodramatic performances, 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 effect 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 humor expressed in his countenance in which stage of the contest one or two gentlemen who had come and expressly to witness the pulling of Nicholas's nose grew impatient murmuring that if it were to be done at all, it had better be done at once and that if Mr. Lenville didn't mean to do it, he had better say so and not keep them waiting there. Thus urged, so Trajean adjusted the cuff of his right coat sleeve for the performance 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 decomposure, knocked him down. Before the discomforted Trajean 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 through herself upon the body. Do you see this monster? Do you see this? cried Mr. Lenville, sitting up and pointing to his prostrate lady who was holding him very tight around the waist. Come, said Nicholas nodding his head. Apologize for the insolent note you wrote to me last night and waste no more time in talking. Never cried Mr. Lenville. Yes, yes, yes, screamed his wife, for my sake, for my Lenville, for go all idle forms unless you would see me a blighted course at your feet. This is affecting, said Mr. Lenville, looking around 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 to be, relents. Apologize. Humbly and submissively, asked Nicholas. Humbly and submissively, returned the tradian, 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 venture too far. To ascertain your rival's temper. With this parting advice, Nicholas picked up Mr. Lenville's ash stick, which had flown out of his hand and breaking it in half threw him the pieces and withdrew, bowing slightly to the spectators as he walked out. 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. He was a most unbearable fellow and on whom they had all by a remarkable coincidence at one time or another contemplated the affliction of condine punishment, which they had only been restrained from administering by considerations of mercy. Indeed, to judge from the invariable termination of all these stories, there never was such a charitable and kind-hearted set of people as the male members of Mr. Crummel's company. Nicholas bore his triumph as he had his success in the little world of the theater with the utmost moderation and good humor. The crestfallen 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 was promptly turned out without having his money back. Well, Smikes said Nicholas, when the first piece was over and he had almost finished dressing to go home, is there any letter yet? Yes, replied Smikes. I got this one from the post office. From new and nonce, said Nicholas, casting his eye over the cramped direction, it's no easy matter to make his writing out. Let me see, let me see. By dint of pouring over the letter for half an hour, he contrived to make himself master of the contents which were certainly not of a nature to set his mind at ease. Newman took upon himself to send back the 10 pounds, observing that he had ascertained that neither Mrs. Nicolby nor Kate was the 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 one 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 prepare 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. Crummels, who was seated there in full regal costume, with the phenomenon as the maiden in her maternal arms. Next week for rides, 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 Mrs. Crummels, raising her hands in astonishment. Closed, cried Miss Nevalichi, trembling so much in her tights that she actually laid her hand upon the shoulder of the manageras for support. Why, he don't mean to say he's going, exclaimed Mrs. Gredgen, making her way toward Mrs. Crummels. Hoity, toity, nonsense. The phenomenon being of an affectionate nature and moreover excitable, raised a loud cry and Mrs. Belvani and Miss Ravasa actually shed tears. Even the male performer stopped in their conversation and echoed the word, going? Although some among them, and they had been the loudest in their congratulations that day, winked at each other as though they would not be sorry to lose such a favored rival, an opinion indeed which the honest Mr. Foliere, who was already 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, and getting away 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 to, for him. End of chapter 29.