Nicholas Nickleby
one more so than to the lady and gentleman of the house, especially
if the school principle were carried out to the full extent, and the
articles were expected, as a matter of delicacy, not to be taken away
again.
Everybody having eaten everything, the table was cleared in a most
alarming hurry, and with great noise; and the spirits, whereat the eyes
of Newman Noggs glistened, being arranged in order, with water both hot
and cold, the party composed themselves for conviviality; Mr. Lillyvick
being stationed in a large armchair by the fireside, and the four little
Kenwigses disposed on a small form in front of the company with their
flaxen tails towards them, and their faces to the fire; an arrangement
which was no sooner perfected, than Mrs. Kenwigs was overpowered by the
feelings of a mother, and fell upon the left shoulder of Mr. Kenwigs
dissolved in tears.
‘They are so beautiful!’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, sobbing.
‘Oh, dear,’ said all the ladies, ‘so they are! it’s very natural you
should feel proud of that; but don’t give way, don’t.’
‘I can--not help it, and it don’t signify,’ sobbed Mrs. Kenwigs; ‘oh!
they’re too beautiful to live, much too beautiful!’
On hearing this alarming presentiment of their being doomed to an early
death in the flower of their infancy, all four little girls raised
a hideous cry, and burying their heads in their mother’s lap
simultaneously, screamed until the eight flaxen tails vibrated again;
Mrs. Kenwigs meanwhile clasping them alternately to her bosom, with
attitudes expressive of distraction, which Miss Petowker herself might
have copied.
At length, the anxious mother permitted herself to be soothed into a
more tranquil state, and the little Kenwigses, being also composed, were
distributed among the company, to prevent the possibility of Mrs. Kenwigs
being again overcome by the blaze of their combined beauty. This done,
the ladies and gentlemen united in prophesying that they would live for
many, many years, and that there was no occasion at all for Mrs. Kenwigs
to distress herself; which, in good truth, there did not appear to be;
the loveliness of the children by no means justifying her apprehensions.
‘This day eight year,’ said Mr. Kenwigs after a pause. ‘Dear me--ah!’
This reflection was echoed by all present, who said ‘Ah!’ first, and
‘dear me,’ afterwards.
‘I was younger then,’ tittered Mrs. Kenwigs.
‘No,’ said the collector.
‘Certainly not,’ added everybody.
‘I remember my niece,’ said Mr. Lillyvick, surveying his audience with
a grave air; ‘I remember her, on that very afternoon, when she first
acknowledged to her mother a partiality for Kenwigs. “Mother,” she says,
“I love him.”’
‘“Adore him,” I said, uncle,’ interposed Mrs. Kenwigs.
‘“Love him,” I think, my dear,’ said the collector, firmly.
‘Perhaps you are right, uncle,’ replied Mrs. Kenwigs, submissively. ‘I
thought it was “adore.”’
‘“Love,” my dear,’ retorted Mr. Lillyvick. ‘“Mother,” she says, “I love
him!” “What do I hear?” cries her mother; and instantly falls into
strong conwulsions.’
A general exclamation of astonishment burst from the company.
‘Into strong conwulsions,’ repeated Mr. Lillyvick, regarding them with a
rigid look. ‘Kenwigs will excuse my saying, in the presence of friends,
that there was a very great objection to him, on the ground that he was
beneath the family, and would disgrace it. You remember, Kenwigs?’
‘Certainly,’ replied that gentleman, in no way displeased at the
reminiscence, inasmuch as it proved, beyond all doubt, what a high
family Mrs. Kenwigs came of.
‘I shared in that feeling,’ said Mr. Lillyvick: ‘perhaps it was natural;
perhaps it wasn’t.’
A gentle murmur seemed to say, that, in one of Mr. Lillyvick’s station,
the objection was not only natural, but highly praiseworthy.
‘I came round to him in time,’ said Mr. Lillyvick. ‘After they were
married, and there was no help for it, I was one of the first to say
that Kenwigs must be taken notice of. The family DID take notice of him,
in consequence, and on my representation; and I am bound to say--and
proud to say--that I have always found him a very honest, well-behaved,
upright, respectable sort of man. Kenwigs, shake hands.’
‘I am proud to do it, sir,’ said Mr. Kenwigs.
‘So am I, Kenwigs,’ rejoined Mr. Lillyvick.
‘A very happy life I have led with your niece, sir,’ said Kenwigs.
‘It would have been your own fault if you had not, sir,’ remarked Mr
Lillyvick.
‘Morleena Kenwigs,’ cried her mother, at this crisis, much affected,
‘kiss your dear uncle!’
The young lady did as she was requested, and the three other little
girls were successively hoisted up to the collector’s countenance, and
subjected to the same process, which was afterwards repeated on them by
the majority of those present.
‘Oh dear, Mrs. Kenwigs,’ said Miss Petowker, ‘while Mr. Noggs is making
that punch to drink happy returns in, do let Morleena go through that
figure dance before Mr. Lillyvick.’
‘No, no, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘it will only worry my uncle.’
‘It can’t worry him, I am sure,’ said Miss Petowker. ‘You will be very
much pleased, won’t you, sir?’
‘That I am sure I shall’ replied the collector, glancing at the
punch-mixer.
‘Well then, I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘Morleena shall
do the steps, if uncle can persuade Miss Petowker to recite us the
Blood-Drinker’s Burial, afterwards.’
There was a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, at this
proposition; the subject whereof, gently inclined her head several
times, in acknowledgment of the reception.
‘You know,’ said Miss Petowker, reproachfully, ‘that I dislike doing
anything professional in private parties.’
‘Oh, but not here!’ said Mrs. Kenwigs. ‘We are all so very friendly and
pleasant, that you might as well be going through it in your own room;
besides, the occasion--’
‘I can’t resist that,’ interrupted Miss Petowker; ‘anything in my humble
power I shall be delighted to do.’
Mrs. Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a small PROGRAMME of the
entertainments between them, of which this was the prescribed order,
but they had settled to have a little pressing on both sides, because it
looked more natural. The company being all ready, Miss Petowker hummed
a tune, and Morleena danced a dance; having previously had the soles
of her shoes chalked, with as much care as if she were going on the
tight-rope. It was a very beautiful figure, comprising a great deal of
work for the arms, and was received with unbounded applause.
‘If I was blessed with a--a child--’ said Miss Petowker, blushing, ‘of
such genius as that, I would have her out at the Opera instantly.’
Mrs. Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr. Kenwigs, who shook his head, and
observed that he was doubtful about it.
‘Kenwigs is afraid,’ said Mrs. K.
‘What of?’ inquired Miss Petowker, ‘not of her failing?’
‘Oh no,’ replied Mrs. Kenwigs, ‘but if she grew up what she is now,--only
think of the young dukes and marquises.’
‘Very right,’ said the collector.
‘Still,’ submitted Miss Petowker, ‘if she took a proper pride in
herself, you know--’
‘There’s a good deal in that,’ observed Mrs. Kenwigs, looking at her
husband.
‘I only know--’ faltered Miss Petowker,--‘it may be no rule to be
sure--but I have never found any inconvenience or unpleasantness of that
sort.’
Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming gallantry, said that settled the question at
once, and that he would take the subject into his serious consideration.
This being resolved upon, Miss Petowker was entreated to begin the
Blood-Drinker’s Burial; to which end, that young lady let down her back
hair, and taking up her position at the other end of the room, with the
bachelor friend posted in a corner, to rush out at the cue ‘in death
expire,’ and catch her in his arms when she died raving mad, went
through the performance with extraordinary spirit, and to the great
terror of the little Kenwigses, who were all but frightened into fits.
The ecstasies consequent upon the effort had not yet subsided, and
Newman (who had not been thoroughly sober at so late an hour for a long
long time,) had not yet been able to put in a word of announcement,
that the punch was ready, when a hasty knock was heard at the room-door,
which elicited a shriek from Mrs. Kenwigs, who immediately divined that
the baby had fallen out of bed.
‘Who is that?’ demanded Mr. Kenwigs, sharply.
‘Don’t be alarmed, it’s only me,’ said Crowl, looking in, in his
nightcap. ‘The baby is very comfortable, for I peeped into the room as
I came down, and it’s fast asleep, and so is the girl; and I don’t think
the candle will set fire to the bed-curtain, unless a draught was to get
into the room--it’s Mr. Noggs that’s wanted.’
‘Me!’ cried Newman, much astonished.
‘Why, it IS a queer hour, isn’t it?’ replied Crowl, who was not best
pleased at the prospect of losing his fire; ‘and they are queer-looking
people, too, all covered with rain and mud. Shall I tell them to go
away?’
‘No,’ said Newman, rising. ‘People? How many?’
‘Two,’ rejoined Crowl.
‘Want me? By name?’ asked Newman.
‘By name,’ replied Crowl. ‘Mr. Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.’
Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried away, muttering
that he would be back directly. He was as good as his word; for, in an
exceedingly short time, he burst into the room, and seizing, without
a word of apology or explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot
punch from the table, darted away like a madman.
‘What the deuce is the matter with him?’ exclaimed Crowl, throwing the
door open. ‘Hark! Is there any noise above?’
The guests rose in great confusion, and, looking in each other’s faces
with much perplexity and some fear, stretched their necks forward, and
listened attentively.
CHAPTER 15
Acquaints the Reader with the Cause and Origin of the Interruption
described in the last Chapter, and with some other Matters necessary to
be known
Newman Noggs scrambled in violent haste upstairs with the steaming
beverage, which he had so unceremoniously snatched from the table of Mr
Kenwigs, and indeed from the very grasp of the water-rate collector, who
was eyeing the contents of the tumbler, at the moment of its unexpected
abstraction, with lively marks of pleasure visible in his countenance.
He bore his prize straight to his own back-garret, where, footsore and
nearly shoeless, wet, dirty, jaded, and disfigured with every mark of
fatiguing travel, sat Nicholas and Smike, at once the cause and partner
of his toil; both perfectly worn out by their unwonted and protracted
exertion.
Newman’s first act was to compel Nicholas, with gentle force, to swallow
half of the punch at a breath, nearly boiling as it was; and his next,
to pour the remainder down the throat of Smike, who, never having tasted
anything stronger than aperient medicine in his whole life, exhibited
various odd manifestations of surprise and delight, during the passage
of the liquor down his throat, and turned up his eyes most emphatically
when it was all gone.
‘You are wet through,’ said Newman, passing his hand hastily over the
coat which Nicholas had thrown off; ‘and I--I--haven’t even a change,’
he added, with a wistful glance at the shabby clothes he wore himself.
‘I have dry clothes, or at least such as will serve my turn well, in
my bundle,’ replied Nicholas. ‘If you look so distressed to see me, you
will add to the pain I feel already, at being compelled, for one night,
to cast myself upon your slender means for aid and shelter.’
Newman did not look the less distressed to hear Nicholas talking in this
strain; but, upon his young friend grasping him heartily by the hand,
and assuring him that nothing but implicit confidence in the sincerity