Nicholas Nickleby
of his professions, and kindness of feeling towards himself, would have
induced him, on any consideration, even to have made him acquainted
with his arrival in London, Mr. Noggs brightened up again, and went about
making such arrangements as were in his power for the comfort of his
visitors, with extreme alacrity.
These were simple enough; poor Newman’s means halting at a very
considerable distance short of his inclinations; but, slight as they
were, they were not made without much bustling and running about. As
Nicholas had husbanded his scanty stock of money, so well that it was
not yet quite expended, a supper of bread and cheese, with some cold
beef from the cook’s shop, was soon placed upon the table; and these
viands being flanked by a bottle of spirits and a pot of porter, there
was no ground for apprehension on the score of hunger or thirst, at all
events. Such preparations as Newman had it in his power to make, for
the accommodation of his guests during the night, occupied no very great
time in completing; and as he had insisted, as an express preliminary,
that Nicholas should change his clothes, and that Smike should invest
himself in his solitary coat (which no entreaties would dissuade him
from stripping off for the purpose), the travellers partook of their
frugal fare, with more satisfaction than one of them at least had
derived from many a better meal.
They then drew near the fire, which Newman Noggs had made up as well as
he could, after the inroads of Crowl upon the fuel; and Nicholas, who
had hitherto been restrained by the extreme anxiety of his friend
that he should refresh himself after his journey, now pressed him with
earnest questions concerning his mother and sister.
‘Well,’ replied Newman, with his accustomed taciturnity; ‘both well.’
‘They are living in the city still?’ inquired Nicholas.
‘They are,’ said Newman.
‘And my sister,’--added Nicholas. ‘Is she still engaged in the business
which she wrote to tell me she thought she should like so much?’
Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but merely replied by
a gasp, which, according to the action of the head that accompanied
it, was interpreted by his friends as meaning yes or no. In the present
instance, the pantomime consisted of a nod, and not a shake; so Nicholas
took the answer as a favourable one.
‘Now listen to me,’ said Nicholas, laying his hand on Newman’s shoulder.
‘Before I would make an effort to see them, I deemed it expedient to
come to you, lest, by gratifying my own selfish desire, I should inflict
an injury upon them which I can never repair. What has my uncle heard
from Yorkshire?’
Newman opened and shut his mouth, several times, as though he were
trying his utmost to speak, but could make nothing of it, and finally
fixed his eyes on Nicholas with a grim and ghastly stare.
‘What has he heard?’ urged Nicholas, colouring. ‘You see that I am
prepared to hear the very worst that malice can have suggested. Why
should you conceal it from me? I must know it sooner or later; and what
purpose can be gained by trifling with the matter for a few minutes,
when half the time would put me in possession of all that has occurred?
Tell me at once, pray.’
‘Tomorrow morning,’ said Newman; ‘hear it tomorrow.’
‘What purpose would that answer?’ urged Nicholas.
‘You would sleep the better,’ replied Newman.
‘I should sleep the worse,’ answered Nicholas, impatiently. ‘Sleep!
Exhausted as I am, and standing in no common need of rest, I cannot hope
to close my eyes all night, unless you tell me everything.’
‘And if I should tell you everything,’ said Newman, hesitating.
‘Why, then you may rouse my indignation or wound my pride,’ rejoined
Nicholas; ‘but you will not break my rest; for if the scene were acted
over again, I could take no other part than I have taken; and whatever
consequences may accrue to myself from it, I shall never regret doing as
I have done--never, if I starve or beg in consequence. What is a little
poverty or suffering, to the disgrace of the basest and most inhuman
cowardice! I tell you, if I had stood by, tamely and passively, I should
have hated myself, and merited the contempt of every man in existence.
The black-hearted scoundrel!’
With this gentle allusion to the absent Mr. Squeers, Nicholas repressed
his rising wrath, and relating to Newman exactly what had passed at
Dotheboys Hall, entreated him to speak out without more pressing. Thus
adjured, Mr. Noggs took, from an old trunk, a sheet of paper, which
appeared to have been scrawled over in great haste; and after sundry
extraordinary demonstrations of reluctance, delivered himself in the
following terms.
‘My dear young man, you mustn’t give way to--this sort of thing
will never do, you know--as to getting on in the world, if you take
everybody’s part that’s ill-treated--Damn it, I am proud to hear of it;
and would have done it myself!’
Newman accompanied this very unusual outbreak with a violent blow upon
the table, as if, in the heat of the moment, he had mistaken it for the
chest or ribs of Mr. Wackford Squeers. Having, by this open declaration
of his feelings, quite precluded himself from offering Nicholas any
cautious worldly advice (which had been his first intention), Mr. Noggs
went straight to the point.
‘The day before yesterday,’ said Newman, ‘your uncle received this
letter. I took a hasty copy of it, while he was out. Shall I read it?’
‘If you please,’ replied Nicholas. Newman Noggs accordingly read as
follows:
‘DOTHEBOYS HALL, ‘THURSDAY MORNING.
‘SIR,
‘My pa requests me to write to you, the doctors considering it doubtful
whether he will ever recuvver the use of his legs which prevents his
holding a pen.
‘We are in a state of mind beyond everything, and my pa is one mask of
brooses both blue and green likewise two forms are steepled in his Goar.
We were kimpelled to have him carried down into the kitchen where he now
lays. You will judge from this that he has been brought very low.
‘When your nevew that you recommended for a teacher had done this to
my pa and jumped upon his body with his feet and also langwedge which
I will not pollewt my pen with describing, he assaulted my ma with
dreadful violence, dashed her to the earth, and drove her back comb
several inches into her head. A very little more and it must have
entered her skull. We have a medical certifiket that if it had, the
tortershell would have affected the brain.
‘Me and my brother were then the victims of his feury since which we
have suffered very much which leads us to the arrowing belief that we
have received some injury in our insides, especially as no marks of
violence are visible externally. I am screaming out loud all the time
I write and so is my brother which takes off my attention rather and I
hope will excuse mistakes.
‘The monster having sasiated his thirst for blood ran away, taking with
him a boy of desperate character that he had excited to rebellyon, and a
garnet ring belonging to my ma, and not having been apprehended by the
constables is supposed to have been took up by some stage-coach. My pa
begs that if he comes to you the ring may be returned, and that you will
let the thief and assassin go, as if we prosecuted him he would only be
transported, and if he is let go he is sure to be hung before long which
will save us trouble and be much more satisfactory. Hoping to hear from
you when convenient
‘I remain ‘Yours and cetrer ‘FANNY SQUEERS.
‘P.S. I pity his ignorance and despise him.’
A profound silence succeeded to the reading of this choice epistle,
during which Newman Noggs, as he folded it up, gazed with a kind of
grotesque pity at the boy of desperate character therein referred to;
who, having no more distinct perception of the matter in hand, than that
he had been the unfortunate cause of heaping trouble and falsehood
upon Nicholas, sat mute and dispirited, with a most woe-begone and
heart-stricken look.
‘Mr. Noggs,’ said Nicholas, after a few moments’ reflection, ‘I must go
out at once.’
‘Go out!’ cried Newman.
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘to Golden Square. Nobody who knows me would
believe this story of the ring; but it may suit the purpose, or gratify
the hatred of Mr. Ralph Nickleby to feign to attach credence to it. It
is due--not to him, but to myself--that I should state the truth; and
moreover, I have a word or two to exchange with him, which will not keep
cool.’
‘They must,’ said Newman.
‘They must not, indeed,’ rejoined Nicholas firmly, as he prepared to
leave the house.
‘Hear me speak,’ said Newman, planting himself before his impetuous
young friend. ‘He is not there. He is away from town. He will not be
back for three days; and I know that letter will not be answered before
he returns.’
‘Are you sure of this?’ asked Nicholas, chafing violently, and pacing
the narrow room with rapid strides.
‘Quite,’ rejoined Newman. ‘He had hardly read it when he was called
away. Its contents are known to nobody but himself and us.’
‘Are you certain?’ demanded Nicholas, precipitately; ‘not even to my
mother or sister? If I thought that they--I will go there--I must see
them. Which is the way? Where is it?’
‘Now, be advised by me,’ said Newman, speaking for the moment, in his
earnestness, like any other man--‘make no effort to see even them, till
he comes home. I know the man. Do not seem to have been tampering with
anybody. When he returns, go straight to him, and speak as boldly as you
like. Guessing at the real truth, he knows it as well as you or I. Trust
him for that.’
‘You mean well to me, and should know him better than I can,’ replied
Nicholas, after some consideration. ‘Well; let it be so.’
Newman, who had stood during the foregoing conversation with his back
planted against the door, ready to oppose any egress from the apartment
by force, if necessary, resumed his seat with much satisfaction; and
as the water in the kettle was by this time boiling, made a glassful
of spirits and water for Nicholas, and a cracked mug-full for the joint
accommodation of himself and Smike, of which the two partook in great
harmony, while Nicholas, leaning his head upon his hand, remained buried
in melancholy meditation.
Meanwhile, the company below stairs, after listening attentively and
not hearing any noise which would justify them in interfering for
the gratification of their curiosity, returned to the chamber of the
Kenwigses, and employed themselves in hazarding a great variety of
conjectures relative to the cause of Mr. Noggs’ sudden disappearance and
detention.
‘Lor, I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs. Kenwigs. ‘Suppose it should be an
express sent up to say that his property has all come back again!’
‘Dear me,’ said Mr. Kenwigs; ‘it’s not impossible. Perhaps, in that case,
we’d better send up and ask if he won’t take a little more punch.’
‘Kenwigs!’ said Mr. Lillyvick, in a loud voice, ‘I’m surprised at you.’
‘What’s the matter, sir?’ asked Mr. Kenwigs, with becoming submission to
the collector of water-rates.
‘Making such a remark as that, sir,’ replied Mr. Lillyvick, angrily. ‘He
has had punch already, has he not, sir? I consider the way in which that
punch was cut off, if I may use the expression, highly disrespectful to
this company; scandalous, perfectly scandalous. It may be the custom to
allow such things in this house, but it’s not the kind of behaviour
that I’ve been used to see displayed, and so I don’t mind telling you,
Kenwigs. A gentleman has a glass of punch before him to which he is just
about to set his lips, when another gentleman comes and collars that
glass of punch, without a “with your leave”, or “by your leave”, and
carries that glass of punch away. This may be good manners--I dare say