Chapter 51

by Charles Dickens

　　The Project of Mr Ralph Nickleby and his Friend approaching asuccessful Issue, becomes unexpectedly known to another Party, notadmitted into their ConfidenceIn an old house, dismal dark and dusty, which seemed to havewithered, like himself, and to have grown yellow and shrivelled inhoarding him from the light of day, as he had in hoarding his money,lived Arthur Gride. Meagre old chairs and tables, of spare and bonymake, and hard and cold as misers' hearts, were ranged, in grimarray, against the gloomy walls; attenuated presses, grown lank andlantern-jawed in guarding the treasures they enclosed, andtottering, as though from constant fear and dread of thieves, shrunkup in dark corners, whence they cast no shadows on the ground, andseemed to hide and cower from observation. A tall grim clock uponthe stairs, with long lean hands and famished face, ticked incautious whispers; and when it struck the time, in thin and pipingsounds, like an old man's voice, rattled, as if it were pinched withhunger.No fireside couch was there, to invite repose and comfort. Elbow-chairs there were, but they looked uneasy in their minds, cockedtheir arms suspiciously and timidly, and kept upon their guard.Others, were fantastically grim and gaunt, as having drawnthemselves up to their utmost height, and put on their fiercestlooks to stare all comers out of countenance. Others, again,knocked up against their neighbours, or leant for support againstthe wall--somewhat ostentatiously, as if to call all men to witnessthat they were not worth the taking. The dark square lumberingbedsteads seemed built for restless dreams; the musty hangingsseemed to creep in scanty folds together, whispering amongthemselves, when rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge ofthe tempting wares that lurked within the dark and tight-lockedclosets.From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare and hungryhouse there came, one morning, the tremulous tones of old Gride'svoice, as it feebly chirruped forth the fag end of some forgottensong, of which the burden ran:Ta--ran--tan--too,Throw the old shoe,And may the wedding be lucky!which he repeated, in the same shrill quavering notes, again andagain, until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist, and topursue in silence, the occupation upon which he was engaged.This occupation was, to take down from the shelves of a worm-eatenwardrobe a quantity of frouzy garments, one by one; to subject eachto a careful and minute inspection by holding it up against thelight, and after folding it with great exactness, to lay it on oneor other of two little heaps beside him. He never took two articlesof clothing out together, but always brought them forth, singly, andnever failed to shut the wardrobe door, and turn the key, betweeneach visit to its shelves.'The snuff-coloured suit,' said Arthur Gride, surveying a threadbarecoat. 'Did I look well in snuff-colour? Let me think.'The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable, for hefolded the garment once more, laid it aside, and mounted on a chairto get down another, chirping while he did so:Young, loving, and fair,Oh what happiness there!The wedding is sure to be lucky!'They always put in "young,"' said old Arthur, 'but songs are onlywritten for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poorcountry-people sang, when I was a little boy. Though stop--young isquite right too--it means the bride--yes. He, he, he! It means thebride. Oh dear, that's good. That's very good. And true besides,quite true!'In the satisfaction of this discovery, he went over the verse again,with increased expression, and a shake or two here and there. Hethen resumed his employment.'The bottle-green,' said old Arthur; 'the bottle-green was a famoussuit to wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker's, andthere was--he, he, he!--a tarnished shilling in the waistcoatpocket. To think that the pawnbroker shouldn't have known there wasa shilling in it! I knew it! I felt it when I was examining thequality. Oh, what a dull dog of a pawnbroker! It was a lucky suittoo, this bottle-green. The very day I put it on first, old LordMallowford was burnt to death in his bed, and all the post-obitsfell in. I'll be married in the bottle-green. Peg. Peg Sliderskew--I'll wear the bottle-green!'This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room-door, broughtinto the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed old woman,palsy-stricken and hideously ugly, who, wiping her shrivelled faceupon her dirty apron, inquired, in that subdued tone in which deafpeople commonly speak:'Was that you a calling, or only the clock a striking? My hearinggets so bad, I never know which is which; but when I hear a noise, Iknow it must be one of you, because nothing else never stirs in thehouse.''Me, Peg, me,' said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the breast torender the reply more intelligible.'You, eh?' returned Peg. 'And what do you want?''I'll be married in the bottle-green,' cried Arthur Gride.'It's a deal too good to be married in, master,' rejoined Peg, aftera short inspection of the suit. 'Haven't you got anything worsethan this?''Nothing that'll do,' replied old Arthur.'Why not do?' retorted Peg. 'Why don't you wear your every-dayclothes, like a man--eh?''They an't becoming enough, Peg,' returned her master.'Not what enough?' said Peg.'Becoming.''Becoming what?' said Peg, sharply. 'Not becoming too old to wear?'Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his housekeeper's deafness,as he roared in her ear:'Not smart enough! I want to look as well as I can.''Look?' cried Peg. 'If she's as handsome as you say she is, shewon't look much at you, master, take your oath of that; and as tohow you look yourself--pepper-and-salt, bottle-green, sky-blue, ortartan-plaid will make no difference in you.'With which consolatory assurance, Peg Sliderskew gathered up thechosen suit, and folding her skinny arms upon the bundle, stood,mouthing, and grinning, and blinking her watery eyes, like anuncouth figure in some monstrous piece of carving.'You're in a funny humour, an't you, Peg?' said Arthur, with not thebest possible grace.'Why, isn't it enough to make me?' rejoined the old woman. 'Ishall, soon enough, be put out, though, if anybody tries to domineerit over me: and so I give you notice, master. Nobody shall be putover Peg Sliderskew's head, after so many years; you know that, andso I needn't tell you! That won't do for me--no, no, nor for you.Try that once, and come to ruin--ruin--ruin!''Oh dear, dear, I shall never try it,' said Arthur Gride, appalledby the mention of the word, 'not for the world. It would be veryeasy to ruin me; we must be very careful; more saving than ever,with another mouth to feed. Only we--we mustn't let her lose hergood looks, Peg, because I like to see 'em.''Take care you don't find good looks come expensive,' returned Peg,shaking her forefinger.'But she can earn money herself, Peg,' said Arthur Gride, eagerlywatching what effect his communication produced upon the old woman'scountenance: 'she can draw, paint, work all manner of pretty thingsfor ornamenting stools and chairs: slippers, Peg, watch-guards,hair-chains, and a thousand little dainty trifles that I couldn'tgive you half the names of. Then she can play the piano, (and,what's more, she's got one), and sing like a little bird. She'll bevery cheap to dress and keep, Peg; don't you think she will?''If you don't let her make a fool of you, she may,' returned Peg.'A fool of me!' exclaimed Arthur. 'Trust your old master not to befooled by pretty faces, Peg; no, no, no--nor by ugly ones neither,Mrs Sliderskew,' he softly added by way of soliloquy.'You're a saying something you don't want me to hear,' said Peg; 'Iknow you are.''Oh dear! the devil's in this woman,' muttered Arthur; adding withan ugly leer, 'I said I trusted everything to you, Peg. That wasall.''You do that, master, and all your cares are over,' said Pegapprovingly.'When I do that, Peg Sliderskew,' thought Arthur Gride, 'they willbe.'Although he thought this very distinctly, he durst not move his lipslest the old woman should detect him. He even seemed half afraidthat she might have read his thoughts; for he leered coaxingly uponher, as he said aloud:'Take up all loose stitches in the bottle-green with the best blacksilk. Have a skein of the best, and some new buttons for the coat,and--this is a good idea, Peg, and one you'll like, I know--as Ihave never given her anything yet, and girls like such attentions,you shall polish up a sparking necklace that I have got upstairs,and I'll give it her upon the wedding morning--clasp it round hercharming little neck myself--and take it away again next day. He,he, he! I'll lock it up for her, Peg, and lose it. Who'll be made thefool of there, I wonder, to begin with--eh, Peg?'Mrs Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this ingenious scheme,and expressed her satisfaction by various rackings and twitchings ofher head and body, which by no means enhanced her charms. These sheprolonged until she had hobbled to the door, when she exchanged themfor a sour malignant look, and twisting her under-jaw from side toside, muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs Gride, as she creptslowly down the stairs, and paused for breath at nearly every one.'She's half a witch, I think,' said Arthur Gride, when he foundhimself again alone. 'But she's very frugal, and she's very deaf.Her living costs me next to nothing; and it's no use her listeningat keyholes; for she can't hear. She's a charming woman--for thepurpose; a most discreet old housekeeper, and worth her weight in--copper.'Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high terms, oldArthur went back to the burden of his song. The suit destined tograce his approaching nuptials being now selected, he replaced theothers with no less care than he had displayed in drawing them fromthe musty nooks where they had silently reposed for many years.Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this operation,and locked the press; but there was no need for any particularhurry, as the discreet Peg seldom knew the bell was rung unless shehappened to cast her dim eyes upwards, and to see it shaking againstthe kitchen ceiling. After a short delay, however, Peg tottered in,followed by Newman Noggs.'Ah! Mr Noggs!' cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his hands. 'My goodfriend, Mr Noggs, what news do you bring for me?'Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, and his fixed eyevery fixed indeed, replied, suiting the action to the word, 'Aletter. From Mr Nickleby. Bearer waits.''Won't you take a--a--'Newman looked up, and smacked his lips.'--A chair?' said Arthur Gride.'No,' replied Newman. 'Thankee.'Arthur opened the letter with trembling hands, and devoured itscontents with the utmost greediness; chuckling rapturously over it,and reading it several times, before he could take it from beforehis eyes. So many times did he peruse and re-peruse it, that Newmanconsidered it expedient to remind him of his presence.'Answer,' said Newman. 'Bearer waits.''True,' replied old Arthur. 'Yes--yes; I almost forgot, I dodeclare.''I thought you were forgetting,' said Newman.'Quite right to remind me, Mr Noggs. Oh, very right indeed,' saidArthur. 'Yes. I'll write a line. I'm--I'm--rather flurried, MrNoggs. The news is--''Bad?' interrupted Newman.'No, Mr Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best of news. Sitdown. I'll get the pen and ink, and write a line in answer. I'llnot detain you long. I know you're a treasure to your master, MrNoggs. He speaks of you in such terms, sometimes, that, oh dear!you'd be astonished. I may say that I do too, and always did. Ialways say the same of you.''That's "Curse Mr Noggs with all my heart!" then, if you do,'thought Newman, as Gride hurried out.The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully about himfor an instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to know the result ofthe design he had overheard from his office closet, caught it up andrapidly read as follows:'Gride.'I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the day aftertomorrow (as you suggested) for the marriage. There is no objectionon his part, and all days are alike to his daughter. We will gotogether, and you must be with me by seven in the morning. I neednot tell you to be punctual.'Make no further visits to the girl in the meantime. You have beenthere, of late, much oftener than you should. She does not languishfor you, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your youthfulardour for eight-and-forty hours, and leave her to the father. Youonly undo what he does, and does well.'Yours,'Ralph Nickleby.'A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the letter on the samespot again, pressed it with his foot to prevent its fluttering away,regained his seat in a single stride, and looked as vacant andunconscious as ever mortal looked. Arthur Gride, after peeringnervously about him, spied it on the ground, picked it up, andsitting down to write, glanced at Newman Noggs, who was staring atthe wall with an intensity so remarkable, that Arthur was quitealarmed.'Do you see anything particular, Mr Noggs?' said Arthur, trying tofollow the direction of Newman's eyes--which was an impossibility,and a thing no man had ever done.'Only a cobweb,' replied Newman.'Oh! is that all?''No,' said Newman. 'There's a fly in it.''There are a good many cobwebs here,' observed Arthur Gride.'So there are in our place,' returned Newman; 'and flies too.'Newman appeared to derive great entertainment from this repartee,and to the great discomposure of Arthur Gride's nerves, produced aseries of sharp cracks from his finger-joints, resembling the noiseof a distant discharge of small artillery. Arthur succeeded infinishing his reply to Ralph's note, nevertheless, and at lengthhanded it over to the eccentric messenger for delivery.'That's it, Mr Noggs,' said Gride.Newman gave a nod, put it in his hat, and was shuffling away, whenGride, whose doting delight knew no bounds, beckoned him back again,and said, in a shrill whisper, and with a grin which puckered up hiswhole face, and almost obscured his eyes:'Will you--will you take a little drop of something--just a taste?'In good fellowship (if Arthur Gride had been capable of it) Newmanwould not have drunk with him one bubble of the richest wine thatwas ever made; but to see what he would be at, and to punish him asmuch as he could, he accepted the offer immediately.Arthur Gride, therefore, again applied himself to the press, andfrom a shelf laden with tall Flemish drinking-glasses, and quaintbottles: some with necks like so many storks, and others with squareDutch-built bodies and short fat apoplectic throats: took down onedusty bottle of promising appearance, and two glasses of curiouslysmall size.'You never tasted this,' said Arthur. 'It's eau-d'or--golden water.I like it on account of its name. It's a delicious name. Water ofgold, golden water! O dear me, it seems quite a sin to drink it!'As his courage appeared to be fast failing him, and he trifled withthe stopper in a manner which threatened the dismissal of the bottleto its old place, Newman took up one of the little glasses, andclinked it, twice or thrice, against the bottle, as a gentle reminderthat he had not been helped yet. With a deep sigh, Arthur Grideslowly filled it--though not to the brim--and then filled his own.'Stop, stop; don't drink it yet,' he said, laying his hand onNewman's; 'it was given to me, twenty years ago, and when I take alittle taste, which is ve--ry seldom, I like to think of itbeforehand, and tease myself. We'll drink a toast. Shall we drinka toast, Mr Noggs?''Ah!' said Newman, eyeing his little glass impatiently. 'Looksharp. Bearer waits.''Why, then, I'll tell you what,' tittered Arthur, 'we'll drink--he,he, he!--we'll drink a lady.''The ladies?' said Newman.'No, no, Mr Noggs,' replied Gride, arresting his hand, 'A lady. Youwonder to hear me say A lady. I know you do, I know you do. Here'slittle Madeline. That's the toast. Mr Noggs. Little Madeline!''Madeline!' said Newman; inwardly adding, 'and God help her!'The rapidity and unconcern with which Newman dismissed his portionof the golden water, had a great effect upon the old man, who satupright in his chair, and gazed at him, open-mouthed, as if thesight had taken away his breath. Quite unmoved, however, Newmanleft him to sip his own at leisure, or to pour it back again intothe bottle, if he chose, and departed; after greatly outraging thedignity of Peg Sliderskew by brushing past her, in the passage,without a word of apology or recognition.Mr Gride and his housekeeper, immediately on being left alone,resolved themselves into a committee of ways and means, anddiscussed the arrangements which should be made for the reception ofthe young bride. As they were, like some other committees,extremely dull and prolix in debate, this history may pursue thefootsteps of Newman Noggs; thereby combining advantage withnecessity; for it would have been necessary to do so under anycircumstances, and necessity has no law, as all the world knows.'You've been a long time,' said Ralph, when Newman returned.'He was a long time,' replied Newman.'Bah!' cried Ralph impatiently. 'Give me his note, if he gave youone: his message, if he didn't. And don't go away. I want a wordwith you, sir.'Newman handed in the note, and looked very virtuous and innocentwhile his employer broke the seal, and glanced his eye over it.'He'll be sure to come,' muttered Ralph, as he tore it to pieces;'why of course, I know he'll be sure to come. What need to saythat? Noggs! Pray, sir, what man was that, with whom I saw you inthe street last night?''I don't know,' replied Newman.'You had better refresh your memory, sir,' said Ralph, with athreatening look.'I tell you,' returned Newman boldly, 'that I don't know. He camehere twice, and asked for you. You were out. He came again. Youpacked him off, yourself. He gave the name of Brooker.''I know he did,' said Ralph; 'what then?''What then? Why, then he lurked about and dogged me in the street.He follows me, night after night, and urges me to bring him face toface with you; as he says he has been once, and not long ago either.He wants to see you face to face, he says, and you'll soon hear himout, he warrants.''And what say you to that?' inquired Ralph, looking keenly at hisdrudge.'That it's no business of mine, and I won't. I told him he mightcatch you in the street, if that was all he wanted, but no! thatwouldn't do. You wouldn't hear a word there, he said. He must haveyou alone in a room with the door locked, where he could speakwithout fear, and you'd soon change your tone, and hear himpatiently.''An audacious dog!' Ralph muttered.'That's all I know,' said Newman. 'I say again, I don't know whatman he is. I don't believe he knows himself. You have seen him;perhaps you do.''I think I do,' replied Ralph.'Well,' retored Newman, sulkily, 'don't expect me to know him too;that's all. You'll ask me, next, why I never told you this before.What would you say, if I was to tell you all that people say of you?What do you call me when I sometimes do? "Brute, ass!" and snap atme like a dragon.'This was true enough; though the question which Newman anticipated,was, in fact, upon Ralph's lips at the moment.'He is an idle ruffian,' said Ralph; 'a vagabond from beyond the seawhere he travelled for his crimes; a felon let loose to run his neckinto the halter; a swindler, who has the audacity to try his schemeson me who know him well. The next time he tampers with you, handhim over to the police, for attempting to extort money by lies andthreats,--d'ye hear?--and leave the rest to me. He shall cool hisheels in jail a little time, and I'll be bound he looks for otherfolks to fleece, when he comes out. You mind what I say, do you?''I hear,' said Newman.'Do it then,' returned Ralph, 'and I'll reward you. Now, you maygo.'Newman readily availed himself of the permission, and, shuttinghimself up in his little office, remained there, in very seriouscogitation, all day. When he was released at night, he proceeded,with all the expedition he could use, to the city, and took up hisold position behind the pump, to watch for Nicholas. For NewmanNoggs was proud in his way, and could not bear to appear as hisfriend, before the brothers Cheeryble, in the shabby and degradedstate to which he was reduced.He had not occupied this position many minutes, when he was rejoicedto see Nicholas approaching, and darted out from his ambuscade tomeet him. Nicholas, on his part, was no less pleased to encounterhis friend, whom he had not seen for some time; so, their greetingwas a warm one.'I was thinking of you, at that moment,' said Nicholas.'That's right,' rejoined Newman, 'and I of you. I couldn't helpcoming up, tonight. I say, I think I am going to find outsomething.''And what may that be?' returned Nicholas, smiling at this oddcommunication.'I don't know what it may be, I don't know what it may not be,' saidNewman; 'it's some secret in which your uncle is concerned, butwhat, I've not yet been able to discover, although I have my strongsuspicions. I'll not hint 'em now, in case you should bedisappointed.''I disappointed!' cried Nicholas; 'am I interested?''I think you are,' replied Newman. 'I have a crotchet in my headthat it must be so. I have found out a man, who plainly knows morethan he cares to tell at once. And he has already dropped suchhints to me as puzzle me--I say, as puzzle me,' said Newman,scratching his red nose into a state of violent inflammation, andstaring at Nicholas with all his might and main meanwhile.Admiring what could have wound his friend up to such a pitch ofmystery, Nicholas endeavoured, by a series of questions, toelucidate the cause; but in vain. Newman could not be drawn intoany more explicit statement than a repetition of the perplexities hehad already thrown out, and a confused oration, showing, How it wasnecessary to use the utmost caution; how the lynx-eyed Ralph hadalready seen him in company with his unknown correspondent; and howhe had baffled the said Ralph by extreme guardedness of manner andingenuity of speech; having prepared himself for such a contingencyfrom the first.Remembering his companion's propensity,--of which his nose, indeed,perpetually warned all beholders like a beacon,--Nicholas had drawnhim into a sequestered tavern. Here, they fell to reviewing theorigin and progress of their acquaintance, as men sometimes do, andtracing out the little events by which it was most strongly marked,came at last to Miss Cecilia Bobster.'And that reminds me,' said Newman, 'that you never told me theyoung lady's real name.''Madeline!' said Nicholas.'Madeline!' cried Newman. 'What Madeline? Her other name. Say herother name.''Bray,' said Nicholas, in great astonishment.'It's the same!' cried Newman. 'Sad story! Can you stand idly by,and let that unnatural marriage take place without one attempt tosave her?''What do you mean?' exclaimed Nicholas, starting up; 'marriage! areyou mad?''Are you? Is she? Are you blind, deaf, senseless, dead?' saidNewman. 'Do you know that within one day, by means of your uncleRalph, she will be married to a man as bad as he, and worse, ifworse there is? Do you know that, within one day, she will besacrificed, as sure as you stand there alive, to a hoary wretch--adevil born and bred, and grey in devils' ways?''Be careful what you say,' replied Nicholas. 'For Heaven's sake becareful! I am left here alone, and those who could stretch out ahand to rescue her are far away. What is it that you mean?''I never heard her name,' said Newman, choking with his energy.'Why didn't you tell me? How was I to know? We might, at least,have had some time to think!''What is it that you mean?' cried Nicholas.It was not an easy task to arrive at this information; but, after agreat quantity of extraordinary pantomime, which in no way assistedit, Nicholas, who was almost as wild as Newman Noggs himself, forcedthe latter down upon his seat and held him down until he began histale.Rage, astonishment, indignation, and a storm of passions, rushedthrough the listener's heart, as the plot was laid bare. He nosooner understood it all, than with a face of ashy paleness, andtrembling in every limb, he darted from the house.'Stop him!' cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit. 'He'll be doingsomething desperate; he'll murder somebody. Hallo! there, stop him.Stop thief! stop thief!'