Nicholas Nickleby
galled Sir Mulberry to add, with nearly as much ferocity as if his
friend had been Nicholas himself:
‘I sent Jenkins to old Nickleby before eight o’clock this morning. He’s
a staunch one; he was back with me before the messenger. I had it all
from him in the first five minutes. I know where this hound is to be met
with; time and place both. But there’s no need to talk; tomorrow will
soon be here.’
‘And wha-at’s to be done tomorrow?’ inquired Lord Frederick.
Sir Mulberry Hawk honoured him with an angry glance, but condescended
to return no verbal answer to this inquiry. Both walked sullenly on, as
though their thoughts were busily occupied, until they were quite clear
of the crowd, and almost alone, when Sir Mulberry wheeled round to
return.
‘Stop,’ said his companion, ‘I want to speak to you in earnest. Don’t
turn back. Let us walk here, a few minutes.’
‘What have you to say to me, that you could not say yonder as well as
here?’ returned his Mentor, disengaging his arm.
‘Hawk,’ rejoined the other, ‘tell me; I must know.’
‘MUST know,’ interrupted the other disdainfully. ‘Whew! Go on. If you
must know, of course there’s no escape for me. Must know!’
‘Must ask then,’ returned Lord Frederick, ‘and must press you for a
plain and straightforward answer. Is what you have just said only a
mere whim of the moment, occasioned by your being out of humour and
irritated, or is it your serious intention, and one that you have
actually contemplated?’
‘Why, don’t you remember what passed on the subject one night, when I
was laid up with a broken limb?’ said Sir Mulberry, with a sneer.
‘Perfectly well.’
‘Then take that for an answer, in the devil’s name,’ replied Sir
Mulberry, ‘and ask me for no other.’
Such was the ascendancy he had acquired over his dupe, and such the
latter’s general habit of submission, that, for the moment, the young
man seemed half afraid to pursue the subject. He soon overcame this
feeling, however, if it had restrained him at all, and retorted angrily:
‘If I remember what passed at the time you speak of, I expressed a
strong opinion on this subject, and said that, with my knowledge or
consent, you never should do what you threaten now.’
‘Will you prevent me?’ asked Sir Mulberry, with a laugh.
‘Ye-es, if I can,’ returned the other, promptly.
‘A very proper saving clause, that last,’ said Sir Mulberry; ‘and one
you stand in need of. Oh! look to your own business, and leave me to
look to mine.’
‘This IS mine,’ retorted Lord Frederick. ‘I make it mine; I will make it
mine. It’s mine already. I am more compromised than I should be, as it
is.’
‘Do as you please, and what you please, for yourself,’ said Sir
Mulberry, affecting an easy good-humour. ‘Surely that must content
you! Do nothing for me; that’s all. I advise no man to interfere in
proceedings that I choose to take. I am sure you know me better than
to do so. The fact is, I see, you mean to offer me advice. It is well
meant, I have no doubt, but I reject it. Now, if you please, we will
return to the carriage. I find no entertainment here, but quite the
reverse. If we prolong this conversation, we might quarrel, which would
be no proof of wisdom in either you or me.’
With this rejoinder, and waiting for no further discussion, Sir Mulberry
Hawk yawned, and very leisurely turned back.
There was not a little tact and knowledge of the young lord’s
disposition in this mode of treating him. Sir Mulberry clearly saw that
if his dominion were to last, it must be established now. He knew that
the moment he became violent, the young man would become violent too.
He had, many times, been enabled to strengthen his influence, when
any circumstance had occurred to weaken it, by adopting this cool and
laconic style; and he trusted to it now, with very little doubt of its
entire success.
But while he did this, and wore the most careless and indifferent
deportment that his practised arts enabled him to assume, he inwardly
resolved, not only to visit all the mortification of being compelled to
suppress his feelings, with additional severity upon Nicholas, but also
to make the young lord pay dearly for it, one day, in some shape or
other. So long as he had been a passive instrument in his hands, Sir
Mulberry had regarded him with no other feeling than contempt; but, now
that he presumed to avow opinions in opposition to his, and even to turn
upon him with a lofty tone and an air of superiority, he began to hate
him. Conscious that, in the vilest and most worthless sense of the term,
he was dependent upon the weak young lord, Sir Mulberry could the less
brook humiliation at his hands; and when he began to dislike him he
measured his dislike--as men often do--by the extent of the injuries he
had inflicted upon its object. When it is remembered that Sir Mulberry
Hawk had plundered, duped, deceived, and fooled his pupil in every
possible way, it will not be wondered at, that, beginning to hate him,
he began to hate him cordially.
On the other hand, the young lord having thought--which he very seldom
did about anything--and seriously too, upon the affair with Nicholas,
and the circumstances which led to it, had arrived at a manly and
honest conclusion. Sir Mulberry’s coarse and insulting behaviour on
the occasion in question had produced a deep impression on his mind; a
strong suspicion of his having led him on to pursue Miss Nickleby for
purposes of his own, had been lurking there for some time; he was really
ashamed of his share in the transaction, and deeply mortified by the
misgiving that he had been gulled. He had had sufficient leisure to
reflect upon these things, during their late retirement; and, at times,
when his careless and indolent nature would permit, had availed himself
of the opportunity. Slight circumstances, too, had occurred to increase
his suspicion. It wanted but a very slight circumstance to kindle his
wrath against Sir Mulberry. This his disdainful and insolent tone in
their recent conversation (the only one they had held upon the subject
since the period to which Sir Mulberry referred), effected.
Thus they rejoined their friends: each with causes of dislike against
the other rankling in his breast: and the young man haunted, besides,
with thoughts of the vindictive retaliation which was threatened against
Nicholas, and the determination to prevent it by some strong step, if
possible. But this was not all. Sir Mulberry, conceiving that he had
silenced him effectually, could not suppress his triumph, or forbear
from following up what he conceived to be his advantage. Mr. Pyke was
there, and Mr. Pluck was there, and Colonel Chowser, and other gentlemen
of the same caste, and it was a great point for Sir Mulberry to show
them that he had not lost his influence. At first, the young lord
contented himself with a silent determination to take measures for
withdrawing himself from the connection immediately. By degrees, he grew
more angry, and was exasperated by jests and familiarities which, a few
hours before, would have been a source of amusement to him. This did not
serve him; for, at such bantering or retort as suited the company, he
was no match for Sir Mulberry. Still, no violent rupture took place.
They returned to town; Messrs Pyke and Pluck and other gentlemen
frequently protesting, on the way thither, that Sir Mulberry had never
been in such tiptop spirits in all his life.
They dined together, sumptuously. The wine flowed freely, as indeed
it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank to recompense himself for his
recent abstinence; the young lord, to drown his indignation; and the
remainder of the party, because the wine was of the best and they had
nothing to pay. It was nearly midnight when they rushed out, wild,
burning with wine, their blood boiling, and their brains on fire, to the
gaming-table.
Here, they encountered another party, mad like themselves. The
excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights was not calculated to
allay the fever of the time. In that giddy whirl of noise and confusion,
the men were delirious. Who thought of money, ruin, or the morrow, in
the savage intoxication of the moment? More wine was called for, glass
after glass was drained, their parched and scalding mouths were cracked
with thirst. Down poured the wine like oil on blazing fire. And still
the riot went on. The debauchery gained its height; glasses were dashed
upon the floor by hands that could not carry them to lips; oaths were
shouted out by lips which could scarcely form the words to vent them
in; drunken losers cursed and roared; some mounted on the tables, waving
bottles above their heads and bidding defiance to the rest; some danced,
some sang, some tore the cards and raved. Tumult and frenzy reigned
supreme; when a noise arose that drowned all others, and two men,
seizing each other by the throat, struggled into the middle of the room.
A dozen voices, until now unheard, called aloud to part them. Those who
had kept themselves cool, to win, and who earned their living in such
scenes, threw themselves upon the combatants, and, forcing them asunder,
dragged them some space apart.
‘Let me go!’ cried Sir Mulberry, in a thick hoarse voice; ‘he struck
me! Do you hear? I say, he struck me. Have I a friend here? Who is this?
Westwood. Do you hear me say he struck me?’
‘I hear, I hear,’ replied one of those who held him. ‘Come away for
tonight!’
‘I will not, by G--,’ he replied. ‘A dozen men about us saw the blow.’
‘Tomorrow will be ample time,’ said the friend.
‘It will not be ample time!’ cried Sir Mulberry. ‘Tonight, at once,
here!’ His passion was so great, that he could not articulate, but stood
clenching his fist, tearing his hair, and stamping upon the ground.
‘What is this, my lord?’ said one of those who surrounded him. ‘Have
blows passed?’
‘ONE blow has,’ was the panting reply. ‘I struck him. I proclaim it
to all here! I struck him, and he knows why. I say, with him, let this
quarrel be adjusted now. Captain Adams,’ said the young lord, looking
hurriedly about him, and addressing one of those who had interposed,
‘let me speak with you, I beg.’
The person addressed stepped forward, and taking the young man’s arm,
they retired together, followed shortly afterwards by Sir Mulberry and
his friend.
It was a profligate haunt of the worst repute, and not a place in which
such an affair was likely to awaken any sympathy for either party, or
to call forth any further remonstrance or interposition. Elsewhere, its
further progress would have been instantly prevented, and time allowed
for sober and cool reflection; but not there. Disturbed in their orgies,
the party broke up; some reeled away with looks of tipsy gravity; others
withdrew noisily discussing what had just occurred; the gentlemen of
honour who lived upon their winnings remarked to each other, as they
went out, that Hawk was a good shot; and those who had been most noisy,
fell fast asleep upon the sofas, and thought no more about it.
Meanwhile, the two seconds, as they may be called now, after a long
conference, each with his principal, met together in another room. Both
utterly heartless, both men upon town, both thoroughly initiated in its
worst vices, both deeply in debt, both fallen from some higher estate,
both addicted to every depravity for which society can find some genteel
name and plead its most depraving conventionalities as an excuse, they
were naturally gentlemen of most unblemished honour themselves, and of
great nicety concerning the honour of other people.
These two gentlemen were unusually cheerful just now; for the affair was
pretty certain to make some noise, and could scarcely fail to enhance
their reputations.
‘This is an awkward affair, Adams,’ said Mr. Westwood, drawing himself
up.