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
flattering to the party addressed, with such great relish and strength of tone,
that a dozen voices raised in concert under any ordinary circumstances 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 wife's arm under his own,
and, thus accompanied, following Nicholas downstairs with all speed.
The passage outside the coffee-room door was the scene of disturbance, and
here were congregated the coffee-room customers and waiters, together with two
or three coachmen and helpers from the yard. These had hastily assembled round a
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 corner, who bore the appearance of having been shot into his
present retreat by means of a kick, and complimented by having the slippers
flung about his ears afterwards.
The coffee-room customers, and the waiters, and the coachmen, and the helpers
-- not to mention a barmaid who was looking on from behind an open sash-window
-- seemed at that moment, if a spectator might judge from their winks, nods, and
muttered exclamations, strongly disposed to take part against the young
gentleman in the stockings. Observing this, and that the young gentleman was
nearly of his own age and had in nothing the appearance of an habitual brawler,
Nicholas, impelled by such feelings as will 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
circumstances might seem to warrant, demanded what all that noise was about.
`Hallo!' said one of the men from the yard, `this is somebody in disguise,
this is.'
`Room for the eldest son of the Emperor of Roosher, gen'l'men!' cried another
fellow.
Disregarding these sallies, which were uncommonly well received, as sallies
at the expense of the best-dressed persons in a crowd usually are, Nicholas
glanced carelessly round, and addressing the young gentleman, who had by this
time picked up his slippers and thrust his feet into them, repeated his
inquiries with a courteous air.
`A mere nothing!' he replied.
At this a murmur was raised by the lookers-on, and some of the boldest cried,
`Oh, indeed! -- Wasn't it though? -- Nothing, eh? -- He called that nothing, did
he? Lucky for him if he found it nothing.' These and many other expressions of
ironical disapprobation having been exhausted, two or three of the out-of-door
fellows began to hustle Nicholas and the young gentleman who had made the noise:
stumbling against them by accident, and treading on their toes, and so forth.
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 coffee-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 tonight, to going home at this hour, where
I was not expected until tomorrow,) chose to express himself in very
disrespectful, and insolently familiar terms, of a young lady, whom I recognised
from his description and other circumstances, and whom I have the honour to
know. As he spoke loud enough to be overheard by the other guests who were
present, I informed him most civilly that he was mistaken in his conjectures,
which were of an 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, 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 gentleman's quarrel with great warmth, protesting that he had
done quite right, and that he respected him for it; which John Browdie (albeit
not quite clear as to the merits) immediately protested too, with not 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 mirror) declared that it
would be a very pretty state of things indeed; and that if people were to be
punished for actions so innocent and natural as that, there would be more people
to be knocked down than there would be people to knock them down, and that she
wondered what the gentleman meant by it, that she did.
`My dear girl,' said the young gentleman in a low voice, advancing towards
the sash-window.
`Nonsense, sir!' replied the young lady sharply, 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 an air of
admiration in the barmaid's face; `I said so, you know, just this moment. But
beauty should be spoken of respectfully -- respectfully, and in proper terms,
and with a becoming sense of its worth and excellence, whereas this fellow has
no more notion--'
The young lady interrupted the conversation at this point, by thrusting her
head out of the bar-window, and 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 the 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 tomorrow!'
`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 upstairs together and spent the next half-hour with great
satisfaction and mutual entertainment; Mrs John Browdie beginning the
conversation by declaring that of all the made-up things she ever saw, that
young woman below-stairs was the vainest and the plainest.
This Mr Frank Cheeryble, although, to judge from what had recently taken
place, a hot-headed young man (which is not an absolute miracle and phenomenon
in nature), was a sprightly, good-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 himself 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 me
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 returned, already deep in calculations
whether that same nephew was likely to rival him in the affections of the fair
unknown -- discussing the matter with himself too, as gravely as if, with that
one exception, it were all settled; and recurring to the subject again and
again, and feeling quite indignant and ill-used at the notion of anybody else
making love to one with whom he had never exchanged a word in all his life. To
be sure, he exaggerated rather than depreciated the merits of his new
acquaintance; but still he took it as a kind of personal offence that he should
have any merits at all -- in the eyes of this particular 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
Cheeryble could have no knowledge of, or acquaintance with, the mysterious young
lady, it began to occur to him that even he himself might never see her again;
upon which hypothesis he built up a very ingenious succession of tormenting
ideas which answered his purpose even better than the vision of Mr Frank
Cheeryble, and tantalised and worried him, waking and sleeping.
Notwithstanding all that has been said and sung to the contrary, there is no
well-established case of morning having either deferred or hastened its approach
by the term of an hour or so for the mere gratification of a splenetic feeling
against some unoffending lover: the sun having, in the discharge of his public
duty, as the books of precedent report, invariably risen according to the
almanacs, and without suffering himself to be swayed by any private
considerations. So, morning came as usual, and with it business-hours, and with
them Mr Frank Cheeryble, and with him a long train of smiles and welcomes from
the worthy brothers, and a more grave and clerk-like, but scarcely less hearty
reception from Mr Timothy Linkinwater.
`That Mr Frank and Mr Nickleby should have met last night,' said Tim
Linkinwater, getting slowly off his stool, and looking round the counting-house
with his back planted against the desk, as was his custom when he had anything
very particular to say -- `that those two young men should have 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!'
`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? You know better than that,
at all events. Well, then,' said Tim, folding his arms resolutely, `where is
it?'
`I was not about to dispute the point, Tim,' said young Cheeryble, laughing.
`I am not such a heretic as that. All 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 spectacles, `so put that man down by argument--'
It was quite impossible to find language to express the degree of mental
prostration to which such an adventurous wight would be reduced in the keen
encounter with Tim Linkinwater, so Tim gave up the rest of his declaration in
pure lack of words, and mounted his stool again.
`We may consider ourselves, brother Ned,' said Charles, after he had patted
Tim Linkinwater approvingly on the back, `very fortunate in having two such
young men about us as our nephew Frank and Mr Nickleby. It should be a source of
great satisfaction and pleasure to us.'
`Certainly, Charles, certainly,' returned the other.
`Of Tim,' added brother Ned, `I say nothing whatever, because Tim is a mere
child -- an infant -- a nobody -- that we never think of or take into account at
all. Tim, you villain, what do you say to that, sir?'
`I am jealous of both of 'em,' said Tim, `and mean to look out for another
situation; so provide yourselves, gentlemen, if you please.'
Tim thought this such an exquisite, unparalleled, and most extraordinary
joke, that he laid his pen upon the inkstand, and rather tumbling off his stool
than getting down with his usual deliberation, laughed till he was quite faint,
shaking his head all the time so that little particles of powder flew 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 incident, (and so,
indeed, did the three old fellows after the first burst,) so perhaps there was
as much keen enjoyment and relish in that laugh, altogether, as the politest
assembly ever derived from the most poignant witticism uttered at any one
person's expense.
`Mr 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. Tomorrow is
Sunday. I shall make bold to come out at teatime, 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
assurance which the brothers had given him in his absence, could scarcely feel
sufficient admiration and gratitude for such extraordinary consideration.
The intelligence that they were to have 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-drinkings, 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 washleather
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, mamma.'
`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 mamma,' said Kate, stealing her arm round her mother's neck, `why do
you say what I know you cannot seriously mean or think, or why be angry with me
for being happy and content? You and Nicholas are left to me, we are together
once again, and what regard can I have for a few trifling things of which we
never feel the want? When I have seen all the misery and desolation that death
can bring, and known the lonesome feeling of being solitary and alone in crowds,
and all the agony of separation in grief and poverty when we most needed comfort
and support from each other, can you wonder that I look upon this as a place of
such 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 the less. I was not insensible, indeed. I
might have felt happier if I had been. Dear mamma,' said Kate, in great
agitation, `I know no difference between this home and that in which we were all
so happy for so many years, except that the kindest and gentlest heart that ever
ached on earth has passed in peace to heaven.'
`Kate my dear, Kate,' cried Mrs Nickleby, folding her in her arms.
`I have so often thought,' sobbed Kate, `of all his kind words -- of the last
time he looked into my little room, as he passed upstairs to bed, and said "God
bless you, darling." There was a paleness in his face, mamma -- 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 life,
brought these recollections so strongly upon Kate that she could not suppress
them, Mrs Nickleby began to have a glimmering that she had been rather
thoughtless now and then, and was conscious of something like self-reproach as
she embraced her daughter, and yielded to the emotions which such a conversation
naturally awakened.
There was a mighty bustle that night, and a vast quantity of preparation for
the expected visitor, and a very large 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 pair 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 discussion, such as they
were; for young Mr Cheeryble's recent stay in Germany happening to be alluded
to, old Mr Cheeryble informed the company that the aforesaid young Mr Cheeryble
was suspected to have fallen deeply in love with the daughter of a certain
German burgomaster. This 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 old Mr Cheeryble to confess that it was all a jest,
which old Mr Cheeryble at last did, young Mr Cheeryble being so much in earnest
about it, that -- as Mrs Nickleby said many thousand times afterwards in
recalling the scene -- he `quite 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 by-roads, and sauntered
up and down until it grew quite dark. The time seemed to pass very quickly with
all the party. Kate went first, leaning upon her brother's arm, and talking with
him and Mr Frank Cheeryble; and Mrs Nickleby and the elder gentleman followed at
a short distance, the kindness of the good merchant, his interest in the welfare
of Nicholas, and his admiration of Kate, so operating upon the good lady's
feelings, that the usual current of her speech was confined within very narrow
and circumscribed limits. Smike (who, if he had ever been an object of interest
in his life, had been one that day) accompanied them, joining sometimes 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 careworn 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 Nickleby's heart that night, and this
it was which left upon her face, glistening in the light when they returned
home, traces of the most grateful tears she had ever shed.
There was a quiet mirth about the little supper, which harmonised exactly
with this tone of feeling, and at length the two gentlemen took their leave.
There was one circumstance in the leave-taking which occasioned a vast deal of
smiling and pleasantry, and that was, that Mr Frank Cheeryble offered his hand
to Kate twice over, quite forgetting that he had bade her adieu already. This
was held by the elder Mr Cheeryble to be a convincing proof that he was thinking
of his German flame, and the jest occasioned immense laughter. So easy is it to
move light hearts.
In short, it was a day of serene and tranquil happiness; and as we all have
some bright day -- many of us, let us hope, among a crowd of others -- to which
we revert with particular delight, so this one was often looked back to
afterwards, as holding a conspicuous place in the calendar of those who shared
it.
Was there one exception, and that one he who needed to have been most happy?
Who was that who, in the silence of his own chamber, sunk upon his knees to
pray as his first friend had taught him, and folding his hands and stretching
them wildly in the air, fell upon his face in a passion of bitter grief?
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