Nicholas Nickleby
an old neighbour of theirs, one Horatio Peltirogus (a young gentleman
who might have been, at that time, four years old, or thereabouts),
and to represent it, indeed, as almost a settled thing between the
families--only waiting for her daughter’s final decision, to come off
with the sanction of the church, and to the unspeakable happiness and
content of all parties.
It was in the full pride and glory of having sprung this last mine one
night with extraordinary success, that Mrs. Nickleby took the opportunity
of being left alone with her son before retiring to rest, to sound him
on the subject which so occupied her thoughts: not doubting that they
could have but one opinion respecting it. To this end, she approached
the question with divers laudatory and appropriate remarks touching the
general amiability of Mr. Frank Cheeryble.
‘You are quite right, mother,’ said Nicholas, ‘quite right. He is a fine
fellow.’
‘Good-looking, too,’ said Mrs. Nickleby.
‘Decidedly good-looking,’ answered Nicholas.
‘What may you call his nose, now, my dear?’ pursued Mrs. Nickleby,
wishing to interest Nicholas in the subject to the utmost.
‘Call it?’ repeated Nicholas.
‘Ah!’ returned his mother, ‘what style of nose? What order of
architecture, if one may say so. I am not very learned in noses. Do you
call it a Roman or a Grecian?’
‘Upon my word, mother,’ said Nicholas, laughing, ‘as well as I remember,
I should call it a kind of Composite, or mixed nose. But I have no
very strong recollection on the subject. If it will afford you any
gratification, I’ll observe it more closely, and let you know.’
‘I wish you would, my dear,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, with an earnest look.
‘Very well,’ returned Nicholas. ‘I will.’
Nicholas returned to the perusal of the book he had been reading, when
the dialogue had gone thus far. Mrs. Nickleby, after stopping a little
for consideration, resumed.
‘He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear.’
Nicholas laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he was glad to
hear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep in their new friend’s
confidence already.
‘Hem!’ said Mrs. Nickleby. ‘I don’t know about that, my dear, but I think
it is very necessary that somebody should be in his confidence; highly
necessary.’
Elated by a look of curiosity from her son, and the consciousness of
possessing a great secret, all to herself, Mrs. Nickleby went on with
great animation:
‘I am sure, my dear Nicholas, how you can have failed to notice it, is,
to me, quite extraordinary; though I don’t know why I should say that,
either, because, of course, as far as it goes, and to a certain extent,
there is a great deal in this sort of thing, especially in this early
stage, which, however clear it may be to females, can scarcely be
expected to be so evident to men. I don’t say that I have any particular
penetration in such matters. I may have; those about me should know
best about that, and perhaps do know. Upon that point I shall express no
opinion, it wouldn’t become me to do so, it’s quite out of the question,
quite.’
Nicholas snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets, and, leaning
back in his chair, assumed a look of patient suffering and melancholy
resignation.
‘I think it my duty, Nicholas, my dear,’ resumed his mother, ‘to tell
you what I know: not only because you have a right to know it too, and
to know everything that happens in this family, but because you have it
in your power to promote and assist the thing very much; and there is
no doubt that the sooner one can come to a clear understanding on such
subjects, it is always better, every way. There are a great many things
you might do; such as taking a walk in the garden sometimes, or sitting
upstairs in your own room for a little while, or making believe to fall
asleep occasionally, or pretending that you recollected some business,
and going out for an hour or so, and taking Mr. Smike with you. These
seem very slight things, and I dare say you will be amused at my making
them of so much importance; at the same time, my dear, I can assure you
(and you’ll find this out, Nicholas, for yourself one of these days,
if you ever fall in love with anybody; as I trust and hope you will,
provided she is respectable and well conducted, and of course you’d
never dream of falling in love with anybody who was not), I say, I can
assure you that a great deal more depends upon these little things than
you would suppose possible. If your poor papa was alive, he would tell
you how much depended on the parties being left alone. Of course, you
are not to go out of the room as if you meant it and did it on purpose,
but as if it was quite an accident, and to come back again in the same
way. If you cough in the passage before you open the door, or whistle
carelessly, or hum a tune, or something of that sort, to let them know
you’re coming, it’s always better; because, of course, though it’s not
only natural but perfectly correct and proper under the circumstances,
still it is very confusing if you interrupt young people when they
are--when they are sitting on the sofa, and--and all that sort of thing:
which is very nonsensical, perhaps, but still they will do it.’
The profound astonishment with which her son regarded her during this
long address, gradually increasing as it approached its climax in no
way discomposed Mrs. Nickleby, but rather exalted her opinion of her own
cleverness; therefore, merely stopping to remark, with much complacency,
that she had fully expected him to be surprised, she entered on a vast
quantity of circumstantial evidence of a particularly incoherent and
perplexing kind; the upshot of which was, to establish, beyond the
possibility of doubt, that Mr. Frank Cheeryble had fallen desperately in
love with Kate.
‘With whom?’ cried Nicholas.
Mrs. Nickleby repeated, with Kate.
‘What! OUR Kate! My sister!’
‘Lord, Nicholas!’ returned Mrs. Nickleby, ‘whose Kate should it be, if
not ours; or what should I care about it, or take any interest in it
for, if it was anybody but your sister?’
‘Dear mother,’ said Nicholas, ‘surely it can’t be!’
‘Very good, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Nickleby, with great confidence. ‘Wait
and see.’
Nicholas had never, until that moment, bestowed a thought upon
the remote possibility of such an occurrence as that which was now
communicated to him; for, besides that he had been much from home of
late and closely occupied with other matters, his own jealous fears had
prompted the suspicion that some secret interest in Madeline, akin to
that which he felt himself, occasioned those visits of Frank Cheeryble
which had recently become so frequent. Even now, although he knew that
the observation of an anxious mother was much more likely to be correct
in such a case than his own, and although she reminded him of many
little circumstances which, taken together, were certainly susceptible
of the construction she triumphantly put upon them, he was not quite
convinced but that they arose from mere good-natured thoughtless
gallantry, which would have dictated the same conduct towards any
other girl who was young and pleasing. At all events, he hoped so, and
therefore tried to believe it.
‘I am very much disturbed by what you tell me,’ said Nicholas, after a
little reflection, ‘though I yet hope you may be mistaken.’
‘I don’t understand why you should hope so,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, ‘I
confess; but you may depend upon it I am not.’
‘What of Kate?’ inquired Nicholas.
‘Why that, my dear,’ returned Mrs. Nickleby, ‘is just the point upon
which I am not yet satisfied. During this sickness, she has been
constantly at Madeline’s bedside--never were two people so fond of each
other as they have grown--and to tell you the truth, Nicholas, I have
rather kept her away now and then, because I think it’s a good plan, and
urges a young man on. He doesn’t get too sure, you know.’
She said this with such a mingling of high delight and
self-congratulation, that it was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas to
dash her hopes; but he felt that there was only one honourable course
before him, and that he was bound to take it.
‘Dear mother,’ he said kindly, ‘don’t you see that if there were really
any serious inclination on the part of Mr. Frank towards Kate, and we
suffered ourselves for a moment to encourage it, we should be acting a
most dishonourable and ungrateful part? I ask you if you don’t see it,
but I need not say that I know you don’t, or you would have been more
strictly on your guard. Let me explain my meaning to you. Remember how
poor we are.’
Mrs. Nickleby shook her head, and said, through her tears, that poverty
was not a crime.
‘No,’ said Nicholas, ‘and for that reason poverty should engender an
honest pride, that it may not lead and tempt us to unworthy actions, and
that we may preserve the self-respect which a hewer of wood and drawer
of water may maintain, and does better in maintaining than a monarch in
preserving his. Think what we owe to these two brothers: remember what
they have done, and what they do every day for us with a generosity
and delicacy for which the devotion of our whole lives would be a most
imperfect and inadequate return. What kind of return would that be which
would be comprised in our permitting their nephew, their only relative,
whom they regard as a son, and for whom it would be mere childishness to
suppose they have not formed plans suitably adapted to the education he
has had, and the fortune he will inherit--in our permitting him to marry
a portionless girl: so closely connected with us, that the irresistible
inference must be, that he was entrapped by a plot; that it was a
deliberate scheme, and a speculation amongst us three? Bring the matter
clearly before yourself, mother. Now, how would you feel, if they were
married, and the brothers, coming here on one of those kind errands
which bring them here so often, you had to break out to them the truth?
Would you be at ease, and feel that you had played an open part?’
Poor Mrs. Nickleby, crying more and more, murmured that of course Mr
Frank would ask the consent of his uncles first.
‘Why, to be sure, that would place HIM in a better situation with them,’
said Nicholas, ‘but we should still be open to the same suspicions; the
distance between us would still be as great; the advantages to be gained
would still be as manifest as now. We may be reckoning without our host
in all this,’ he added more cheerfully, ‘and I trust, and almost believe
we are. If it be otherwise, I have that confidence in Kate that I know
she will feel as I do--and in you, dear mother, to be assured that after
a little consideration you will do the same.’
After many more representations and entreaties, Nicholas obtained a
promise from Mrs. Nickleby that she would try all she could to think
as he did; and that if Mr. Frank persevered in his attentions she would
endeavour to discourage them, or, at the least, would render him no
countenance or assistance. He determined to forbear mentioning the
subject to Kate until he was quite convinced that there existed a real
necessity for his doing so; and resolved to assure himself, as well
as he could by close personal observation, of the exact position of
affairs. This was a very wise resolution, but he was prevented from
putting it in practice by a new source of anxiety and uneasiness.
Smike became alarmingly ill; so reduced and exhausted that he could
scarcely move from room to room without assistance; and so worn and
emaciated, that it was painful to look upon him. Nicholas was warned,
by the same medical authority to whom he had at first appealed, that the
last chance and hope of his life depended on his being instantly removed