The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens (classic novels txt) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
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âHere she is,â continued Miss Knag, getting off the box, and introducing Kate with much ceremony and many low curtseys to the delighted throng; âhere she isâeverybody is talking about herâthe belle, ladiesâthe beauty, theâoh, you bold-faced thing!â
At this crisis, Miss Knag was unable to repress a virtuous shudder, which immediately communicated itself to all the young ladies; after which, Miss Knag laughed, and after that, cried.
âFor fifteen years,â exclaimed Miss Knag, sobbing in a most affecting manner, âfor fifteen years have I been the credit and ornament of this room and the one upstairs. Thank God,â said Miss Knag, stamping first her right foot and then her left with remarkable energy, âI have never in all that time, till now, been exposed to the arts, the vile arts, of a creature, who disgraces us with all her proceedings, and makes proper people blush for themselves. But I feel it, I do feel it, although I am disgusted.â
Miss Knag here relapsed into softness, and the young ladies renewing their attentions, murmured that she ought to be superior to such things, and that for their part they despised them, and considered them beneath their notice; in witness whereof, they called out, more emphatically than before, that it was a shame, and that they felt so angry, they did, they hardly knew what to do with themselves.
âHave I lived to this day to be called a fright!â cried Miss Knag, suddenly becoming convulsive, and making an effort to tear her front off.
âOh no, no,â replied the chorus, âpray donât say so; donât now!â
âHave I deserved to be called an elderly person?â screamed Miss Knag, wrestling with the supernumeraries.
âDonât think of such things, dear,â answered the chorus.
âI hate her,â cried Miss Knag; âI detest and hate her. Never let her speak to me again; never let anybody who is a friend of mine speak to her; a slut, a hussy, an impudent artful hussy!â Having denounced the object of her wrath, in these terms, Miss Knag screamed once, hiccuped thrice, gurgled in her throat several times, slumbered, shivered, woke, came to, composed her headdress, and declared herself quite well again.
Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings, at first, in perfect bewilderment. She had then turned red and pale by turns, and once or twice essayed to speak; but, as the true motives of this altered behaviour developed themselves, she retired a few paces, and looked calmly on without deigning a reply. Nevertheless, although she walked proudly to her seat, and turned her back upon the group of little satellites who clustered round their ruling planet in the remotest corner of the room, she gave way, in secret, to some such bitter tears as would have gladdened Miss Knagâs inmost soul, if she could have seen them fall.
Descriptive of a Dinner at Mr Ralph Nicklebyâs, and of the Manner in which the Company entertained themselves, before Dinner, at Dinner, and after Dinner.
The bile and rancour of the worthy Miss Knag undergoing no diminution during the remainder of the week, but rather augmenting with every successive hour; and the honest ire of all the young ladies rising, or seeming to rise, in exact proportion to the good spinsterâs indignation, and both waxing very hot every time Miss Nickleby was called upstairs; it will be readily imagined that that young ladyâs daily life was none of the most cheerful or enviable kind. She hailed the arrival of Saturday night, as a prisoner would a few delicious hoursâ respite from slow and wearing torture, and felt that the poor pittance for her first weekâs labour would have been dearly and hardly earned, had its amount been trebled.
When she joined her mother, as usual, at the street corner, she was not a little surprised to find her in conversation with Mr Ralph Nickleby; but her surprise was soon redoubled, no less by the matter of their conversation, than by the smoothed and altered manner of Mr Nickleby himself.
âAh! my dear!â said Ralph; âwe were at that moment talking about you.â
âIndeed!â replied Kate, shrinking, though she scarce knew why, from her uncleâs cold glistening eye.
âThat instant,â said Ralph. âI was coming to call for you, making sure to catch you before you left; but your mother and I have been talking over family affairs, and the time has slipped away so rapidlyââ
âWell, now, hasnât it?â interposed Mrs Nickleby, quite insensible to the sarcastic tone of Ralphâs last remark. âUpon my word, I couldnât have believed it possible, that such aâKate, my dear, youâre to dine with your uncle at half-past six oâclock tomorrow.â
Triumphing in having been the first to communicate this extraordinary intelligence, Mrs Nickleby nodded and smiled a great many times, to impress its full magnificence on Kateâs wondering mind, and then flew off, at an acute angle, to a committee of ways and means.
âLet me see,â said the good lady. âYour black silk frock will be quite dress enough, my dear, with that pretty little scarf, and a plain band in your hair, and a pair of black silk stockâDear, dear,â cried Mrs Nickleby, flying off at another angle, âif I had but those unfortunate amethysts of mineâyou recollect them, Kate, my loveâhow they used to sparkle, you knowâbut your papa, your poor dear papaâah! there never was anything so cruelly sacrificed as those jewels were, never!â Overpowered by this agonising thought, Mrs Nickleby shook her head, in a melancholy manner, and applied her handkerchief to her eyes.
I donât want them, mama, indeed,â said Kate. âForget that you ever had them.â
âLord, Kate, my dear,â rejoined Mrs Nickleby, pettishly, âhow like a child you talk! Four-and-twenty silver teaspoons, brother-in-law, two gravies, four salts, all the amethystsânecklace, brooch, and earringsâall made away with, at the same time, and I saying, almost on my bended knees, to that poor good soul, âWhy donât you do something, Nicholas? Why donât you make some arrangement?â I am sure that anybody who was about us at that time, will do me the justice to own, that if I said that once, I said it fifty times a day. Didnât I, Kate, my dear? Did I ever lose an opportunity of impressing it on your poor papa?â
âNo, no, mama, never,â replied Kate. And to do Mrs Nickleby justice, she never had lostâand to do married ladies as a body justice, they seldom do loseâany occasion of inculcating similar golden percepts, whose only blemish is, the slight degree of vagueness and uncertainty in which they are usually enveloped.
âAh!â said Mrs Nickleby, with great fervour, âif my advice had been taken at the beginningâWell, I have always done MY duty, and thatâs some comfort.â
When she had arrived at this reflection, Mrs Nickleby sighed, rubbed her hands, cast up her eyes, and finally assumed a look of meek composure; thus importing that she was a persecuted saint, but that she wouldnât trouble her hearers by mentioning a circumstance which must be so obvious to everybody.
âNow,â said Ralph, with a smile, which, in common with all other tokens of emotion, seemed to skulk under his face, rather than play boldly over itââto return to the point from which we have strayed. I have a little party ofâofâgentlemen with whom I am connected in business just now, at my house tomorrow; and your mother has promised that you shall keep house for me. I am not much used to parties; but this is one of business, and such fooleries are an important part of it sometimes. You donât mind obliging me?â
âMind!â cried Mrs Nickleby. âMy dear Kate, whyââ
âPray,â interrupted Ralph, motioning her to be silent. âI spoke to my niece.â
âI shall be very glad, of course, uncle,â replied Kate; âbut I am afraid you will find me awkward and embarrassed.â
âOh no,â said Ralph; âcome when you like, in a hackney coachâIâll pay for it. Good-nightâaâaâGod bless you.â
The blessing seemed to stick in Mr Ralph Nicklebyâs throat, as if it were not used to the thoroughfare, and didnât know the way out. But it got out somehow, though awkwardly enough; and having disposed of it, he shook hands with his two relatives, and abruptly left them.
âWhat a very strongly marked countenance your uncle has!â said Mrs Nickleby, quite struck with his parting look. âI donât see the slightest resemblance to his poor brother.â
âMama!â said Kate reprovingly. âTo think of such a thing!â
âNo,â said Mrs Nickleby, musing. âThere certainly is none. But itâs a very honest face.â
The worthy matron made this remark with great emphasis and elocution, as if it comprised no small quantity of ingenuity and research; and, in truth, it was not unworthy of being classed among the extraordinary discoveries of the age. Kate looked up hastily, and as hastily looked down again.
âWhat has come over you, my dear, in the name of goodness?â asked Mrs Nickleby, when they had walked on, for some time, in silence.
âI was only thinking, mama,â answered Kate.
âThinking!â repeated Mrs Nickleby. âAy, and indeed plenty to think about, too. Your uncle has taken a strong fancy to you, thatâs quite clear; and if some extraordinary good fortune doesnât come to you, after this, I shall be a little surprised, thatâs all.â
With this she launched out into sundry anecdotes of young ladies, who had had thousand-pound notes given them in reticules, by eccentric uncles; and of young ladies who had accidentally met amiable gentlemen of enormous wealth at their unclesâ houses, and married them, after short but ardent courtships; and Kate, listening first in apathy, and afterwards in amusement, felt, as they walked home, something of her motherâs sanguine complexion gradually awakening in her own bosom, and began to think that her prospects might be brightening, and that better days might be dawning upon them. Such is hope, Heavenâs own gift to struggling mortals; pervading, like some subtle essence from the skies, all things, both good and bad; as universal as death, and more infectious than disease!
The feeble winterâs sunâand winterâs suns in the city are very feeble indeedâmight have brightened up, as he shone through the dim windows of the large old house, on witnessing the unusual sight which one half-furnished room displayed. In a gloomy corner, where, for years, had stood a silent dusty pile of merchandise, sheltering its colony of mice, and frowning, a dull and lifeless mass, upon the panelled room, save when, responding to the roll of heavy waggons in the street without, it quaked with sturdy tremblings and caused the bright eyes of its tiny citizens to grow brighter still with fear, and struck them motionless, with attentive ear and palpitating heart, until the alarm had passed awayâin this dark corner, was arranged, with scrupulous care, all Kateâs little finery for the day; each article of dress partaking of that indescribable air of jauntiness and individuality which empty garmentsâwhether by association, or that they become moulded, as it were, to the ownerâs formâwill take, in eyes accustomed to, or picturing, the wearerâs smartness. In place of a bale of musty goods, there lay the black silk dress: the neatest possible figure in itself. The small shoes, with toes delicately turned out, stood upon the very pressure of some old iron weight; and a pile of harsh discoloured leather had unconsciously given place to the very same little pair of black silk stockings, which had been the objects of Mrs Nicklebyâs peculiar care. Rats and mice, and such small gear, had long ago been starved, or had emigrated to better quarters: and, in their stead, appeared gloves, bands, scarfs, hair-pins, and many other little
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