Chapter 61

by Charles Dickens

　　Wherein Nicholas and his Sister forfeit the good Opinion of allworldly and prudent PeopleOn the next morning after Brooker's disclosure had been made,Nicholas returned home. The meeting between him and those whom hehad left there was not without strong emotion on both sides; forthey had been informed by his letters of what had occurred: and,besides that his griefs were theirs, they mourned with him the deathof one whose forlorn and helpless state had first established aclaim upon their compassion, and whose truth of heart and gratefulearnest nature had, every day, endeared him to them more and more.'I am sure,' said Mrs Nickleby, wiping her eyes, and sobbingbitterly, 'I have lost the best, the most zealous, and mostattentive creature that has ever been a companion to me in my life--putting you, my dear Nicholas, and Kate, and your poor papa, andthat well-behaved nurse who ran away with the linen and the twelvesmall forks, out of the question, of course. Of all the tractable,equal-tempered, attached, and faithful beings that ever lived, Ibelieve he was the most so. To look round upon the garden, now,that he took so much pride in, or to go into his room and see itfilled with so many of those little contrivances for our comfortthat he was so fond of making, and made so well, and so littlethought he would leave unfinished--I can't bear it, I cannot really.Ah! This is a great trial to me, a great trial. It will be comfortto you, my dear Nicholas, to the end of your life, to recollect howkind and good you always were to him--so it will be to me, to thinkwhat excellent terms we were always upon, and how fond he always wasof me, poor fellow! It was very natural you should have beenattached to him, my dear--very--and of course you were, and are verymuch cut up by this. I am sure it's only necessary to look at youand see how changed you are, to see that; but nobody knows what myfeelings are--nobody can--it's quite impossible!'While Mrs Nickleby, with the utmost sincerity, gave vent to hersorrows after her own peculiar fashion of considering herselfforemost, she was not the only one who indulged such feelings.Kate, although well accustomed to forget herself when others were tobe considered, could not repress her grief; Madeline was scarcelyless moved than she; and poor, hearty, honest little Miss La Creevy,who had come upon one of her visits while Nicholas was away, and haddone nothing, since the sad news arrived, but console and cheer themall, no sooner beheld him coming in at the door, than she satherself down upon the stairs, and bursting into a flood of tears,refused for a long time to be comforted.'It hurts me so,' cried the poor body, 'to see him come back alone.I can't help thinking what he must have suffered himself. Iwouldn't mind so much if he gave way a little more; but he bears itso manfully.''Why, so I should,' said Nicholas, 'should I not?''Yes, yes,' replied the little woman, 'and bless you for a goodcreature! but this does seem at first to a simple soul like me--Iknow it's wrong to say so, and I shall be sorry for it presently--this does seem such a poor reward for all you have done.''Nay,' said Nicholas gently, 'what better reward could I have, thanthe knowledge that his last days were peaceful and happy, and therecollection that I was his constant companion, and was notprevented, as I might have been by a hundred circumstances, frombeing beside him?''To be sure,' sobbed Miss La Creevy; 'it's very true, and I'm anungrateful, impious, wicked little fool, I know.'With that, the good soul fell to crying afresh, and, endeavouring torecover herself, tried to laugh. The laugh and the cry, meetingeach other thus abruptly, had a struggle for the mastery; the resultwas, that it was a drawn battle, and Miss La Creevy went intohysterics.Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed again,Nicholas, who stood in need of some rest after his long journey,retired to his own room, and throwing himself, dressed as he was,upon the bed, fell into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he found Katesitting by his bedside, who, seeing that he had opened his eyes,stooped down to kiss him.'I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home again.''But I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate.''We have been wearying so for your return,' said Kate, 'mama and I,and--and Madeline.''You said in your last letter that she was quite well,' saidNicholas, rather hastily, and colouring as he spoke. 'Has nothingbeen said, since I have been away, about any future arrangementsthat the brothers have in contemplation for her?''Oh, not a word,' replied Kate. 'I can't think of parting from herwithout sorrow; and surely, Nicholas, you don't wish it!'Nicholas coloured again, and, sitting down beside his sister on alittle couch near the window, said:'No, Kate, no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my realfeelings from anybody but you; but I will tell you that--briefly andplainly, Kate--that I love her.'Kate's eyes brightened, and she was going to make some reply, whenNicholas laid his hand upon her arm, and went on:'Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all.''Dear Nicholas!''Last of all; never, though never is a long day. Sometimes, I tryto think that the time may come when I may honestly tell her this;but it is so far off; in such distant perspective, so many yearsmust elapse before it comes, and when it does come (if ever) I shallbe so unlike what I am now, and shall have so outlived my days ofyouth and romance--though not, I am sure, of love for her--that evenI feel how visionary all such hopes must be, and try to crush themrudely myself, and have the pain over, rather than suffer time towither them, and keep the disappointment in store. No, Kate! SinceI have been absent, I have had, in that poor fellow who is gone,perpetually before my eyes, another instance of the munificentliberality of these noble brothers. As far as in me lies, I willdeserve it, and if I have wavered in my bounden duty to them before,I am now determined to discharge it rigidly, and to put furtherdelays and temptations beyond my reach.''Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,' said Kate, turningpale, 'you must hear what I have to tell you. I came on purpose,but I had not the courage. What you say now, gives me new heart.'She faltered, and burst into tears.There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas for what wascoming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears prevented her.'Come, you foolish girl,' said Nicholas; 'why, Kate, Kate, be awoman! I think I know what you would tell me. It concerns MrFrank, does it not?'Kate sunk her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out 'Yes.''And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since I have been away,'said Nicholas; 'is that it? Yes. Well, well; it is not sodifficult, you see, to tell me, after all. He offered you hishand?''Which I refused,' said Kate.'Yes; and why?''I told him,' she said, in a trembling voice, 'all that I have sincefound you told mama; and while I could not conceal from him, andcannot from you, that--that it was a pang and a great trial, I didso firmly, and begged him not to see me any more.''That's my own brave Kate!' said Nicholas, pressing her to hisbreast. 'I knew you would.''He tried to alter my resolution,' said Kate, 'and declared that, bemy decision what it might, he would not only inform his uncles ofthe step he had taken, but would communicate it to you also,directly you returned. I am afraid,' she added, her momentarycomposure forsaking her, 'I am afraid I may not have said, stronglyenough, how deeply I felt such disinterested love, and how earnestlyI prayed for his future happiness. If you do talk together, Ishould--I should like him to know that.''And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this sacrifice to whatyou knew was right and honourable, that I should shrink from mine?'said Nicholas tenderly.'Oh no! not if your position had been the same, but--''But it is the same,' interrupted Nicholas. 'Madeline is not thenear relation of our benefactors, but she is closely bound to themby ties as dear; and I was first intrusted with her history,specially because they reposed unbounded confidence in me, andbelieved that I was as true as steel. How base would it be of me totake advantage of the circumstances which placed her here, or of theslight service I was happily able to render her, and to seek toengage her affections when the result must be, if I succeeded, thatthe brothers would be disappointed in their darling wish ofestablishing her as their own child, and that I must seem to hope tobuild my fortunes on their compassion for the young creature whom Ihad so meanly and unworthily entrapped: turning her very gratitudeand warmth of heart to my own purpose and account, and trading inher misfortunes! I, too, whose duty, and pride, and pleasure, Kate,it is to have other claims upon me which I will never forget; andwho have the means of a comfortable and happy life already, and haveno right to look beyond it! I have determined to remove this weightfrom my mind. I doubt whether I have not done wrong, even now; andtoday I will, without reserve or equivocation, disclose my realreasons to Mr Cherryble, and implore him to take immediate measuresfor removing this young lady to the shelter of some other roof.''Today? so very soon?''I have thought of this for weeks, and why should I postpone it? Ifthe scene through which I have just passed has taught me to reflect,and has awakened me to a more anxious and careful sense of duty, whyshould I wait until the impression has cooled? You would notdissuade me, Kate; now would you?''You may grow rich, you know,' said Kate.'I may grow rich!' repeated Nicholas, with a mournful smile, 'ay,and I may grow old! But rich or poor, or old or young, we shallever be the same to each other, and in that our comfort lies. Whatif we have but one home? It can never be a solitary one to you andme. What if we were to remain so true to these first impressions asto form no others? It is but one more link to the strong chain thatbinds us together. It seems but yesterday that we were playfellows,Kate, and it will seem but tomorrow when we are staid old people,looking back to these cares as we look back, now, to those of ourchildish days: and recollecting with a melancholy pleasure that thetime was, when they could move us. Perhaps then, when we are quaintold folks and talk of the times when our step was lighter and ourhair not grey, we may be even thankful for the trials that soendeared us to each other, and turned our lives into that current,down which we shall have glided so peacefully and calmly. Andhaving caught some inkling of our story, the young people about us--as young as you and I are now, Kate--may come to us for sympathy,and pour distresses which hope and inexperience could scarcely feelenough for, into the compassionate ears of the old bachelor brotherand his maiden sister.'Kate smiled through her tears as Nicholas drew this picture; butthey were not tears of sorrow, although they continued to fall whenhe had ceased to speak.'Am I not right, Kate?' he said, after a short silence.'Quite, quite, dear brother; and I cannot tell you how happy I amthat I have acted as you would have had me.''You don't regret?''N--n--no,' said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern upon the groundwith her little foot. 'I don't regret having done what washonourable and right, of course; but I do regret that this shouldhave ever happened--at least sometimes I regret it, and sometimes I--I don't know what I say; I am but a weak girl, Nicholas, and it hasagitated me very much.'It is no vaunt to affirm that if Nicholas had had ten thousandpounds at the minute, he would, in his generous affection for theowner of the blushing cheek and downcast eye, have bestowed itsutmost farthing, in perfect forgetfulness of himself, to secure herhappiness. But all he could do was to comfort and console her bykind words; and words they were of such love and kindness, andcheerful encouragement, that poor Kate threw her arms about hisneck, and declared she would weep no more.'What man,' thought Nicholas proudly, while on his way, soonafterwards, to the brothers' house, 'would not be sufficientlyrewarded for any sacrifice of fortune by the possession of such aheart as Kate's, which, but that hearts weigh light, and gold andsilver heavy, is beyond all praise? Frank has money, and wants nomore. Where would it buy him such a treasure as Kate? And yet, inunequal marriages, the rich party is always supposed to make a greatsacrifice, and the other to get a good bargain! But I am thinkinglike a lover, or like an ass: which I suppose is pretty nearly thesame.'Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on which he wasbound, by such self-reproofs as this and many others no less sturdy,he proceeded on his way and presented himself before Tim Linkinwater.'Ah! Mr Nickleby!' cried Tim, 'God bless you! how d'ye do? Well?Say you're quite well and never better. Do now.''Quite,' said Nicholas, shaking him by both hands.'Ah!' said Tim, 'you look tired though, now I come to look at you.Hark! there he is, d'ye hear him? That was Dick, the blackbird. Hehasn't been himself since you've been gone. He'd never get onwithout you, now; he takes as naturally to you as he does to me.''Dick is a far less sagacious fellow than I supposed him, if hethinks I am half so well worthy of his notice as you,' repliedNicholas.'Why, I'll tell you what, sir,' said Tim, standing in his favouriteattitude and pointing to the cage with the feather of his pen, 'it'sa very extraordinary thing about that bird, that the only people heever takes the smallest notice of, are Mr Charles, and Mr Ned, andyou, and me.'Here, Tim stopped and glanced anxiously at Nicholas; thenunexpectedly catching his eye repeated, 'And you and me, sir, andyou and me.' And then he glanced at Nicholas again, and, squeezinghis hand, said, 'I am a bad one at putting off anything I aminterested in. I didn't mean to ask you, but I should like to heara few particulars about that poor boy. Did he mention CheerybleBrothers at all?''Yes,' said Nicholas, 'many and many a time.''That was right of him,' returned Tim, wiping his eyes; 'that wasvery right of him.''And he mentioned your name a score of times,' said Nicholas, 'andoften bade me carry back his love to Mr Linkinwater.''No, no, did he though?' rejoined Tim, sobbing outright. 'Poorfellow! I wish we could have had him buried in town. There isn'tsuch a burying-ground in all London as that little one on the otherside of the square--there are counting-houses all round it, and ifyou go in there, on a fine day, you can see the books and safesthrough the open windows. And he sent his love to me, did he? Ididn't expect he would have thought of me. Poor fellow, poorfellow! His love too!'Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of recollection,that he was quite unequal to any more conversation at the moment.Nicholas therefore slipped quietly out, and went to brotherCharles's room.If he had previously sustained his firmness and fortitude, it hadbeen by an effort which had cost him no little pain; but the warmwelcome, the hearty manner, the homely unaffected commiseration, ofthe good old man, went to his heart, and no inward struggle couldprevent his showing it.'Come, come, my dear sir,' said the benevolent merchant; 'we mustnot be cast down; no, no. We must learn to bear misfortune, and wemust remember that there are many sources of consolation even indeath. Every day that this poor lad had lived, he must have beenless and less qualified for the world, and more and more unhappy inis own deficiencies. It is better as it is, my dear sir. Yes, yes,yes, it's better as it is.''I have thought of all that, sir,' replied Nicholas, clearing histhroat. 'I feel it, I assure you.''Yes, that's well,' replied Mr Cheeryble, who, in the midst of allhis comforting, was quite as much taken aback as honest old Tim;'that's well. Where is my brother Ned? Tim Linkinwater, sir, whereis my brother Ned?''Gone out with Mr Trimmers, about getting that unfortunate man intothe hospital, and sending a nurse to his children,' said Tim.'My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow!' exclaimed brotherCharles as he shut the door and returned to Nicholas. 'He will beoverjoyed to see you, my dear sir. We have been speaking of youevery day.''To tell you the truth, sir, I am glad to find you alone,' saidNicholas, with some natural hesitation; 'for I am anxious to saysomething to you. Can you spare me a very few minutes?''Surely, surely,' returned brother Charles, looking at him with ananxious countenance. 'Say on, my dear sir, say on.''I scarcely know how, or where, to begin,' said Nicholas. 'If everone mortal had reason to be penetrated with love and reverence foranother: with such attachment as would make the hardest service inhis behalf a pleasure and delight: with such grateful recollectionsas must rouse the utmost zeal and fidelity of his nature: those arethe feelings which I should entertain for you, and do, from my heartand soul, believe me!''I do believe you,' replied the old gentleman, 'and I am happy inthe belief. I have never doubted it; I never shall. I am sure Inever shall.''Your telling me that so kindly,' said Nicholas, 'emboldens me toproceed. When you first took me into your confidence, anddispatched me on those missions to Miss Bray, I should have told youthat I had seen her long before; that her beauty had made animpression upon me which I could not efface; and that I hadfruitlessly endeavoured to trace her, and become acquainted with herhistory. I did not tell you so, because I vainly thought I couldconquer my weaker feelings, and render every considerationsubservient to my duty to you.''Mr Nickleby,' said brother Charles, 'you did not violate theconfidence I placed in you, or take an unworthy advantage of it. Iam sure you did not.''I did not,' said Nicholas, firmly. 'Although I found that thenecessity for self-command and restraint became every day moreimperious, and the difficulty greater, I never, for one instant,spoke or looked but as I would have done had you been by. I never,for one moment, deserted my trust, nor have I to this instant. ButI find that constant association and companionship with this sweetgirl is fatal to my peace of mind, and may prove destructive to theresolutions I made in the beginning, and up to this time havefaithfully kept. In short, sir, I cannot trust myself, and Iimplore and beseech you to remove this young lady from under thecharge of my mother and sister without delay. I know that to anyonebut myself--to you, who consider the immeasurable distance betweenme and this young lady, who is now your ward, and the object of yourpeculiar care--my loving her, even in thought, must appear theheight of rashness and presumption. I know it is so. But who cansee her as I have seen, who can know what her life has been, andnot love her? I have no excuse but that; and as I cannot fly fromthis temptation, and cannot repress this passion, with its objectconstantly before me, what can I do but pray and beseech you toremove it, and to leave me to forget her?''Mr Nickleby,' said the old man, after a short silence, 'you can dono more. I was wrong to expose a young man like you to this trial.I might have foreseen what would happen. Thank you, sir, thank you.Madeline shall be removed.''If you would grant me one favour, dear sir, and suffer her toremember me with esteem, by never revealing to her this confession--''I will take care,' said Mr Cheeryble. 'And now, is this all youhave to tell me?''No!' returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, 'it is not.''I know the rest,' said Mr Cheeryble, apparently very much relievedby this prompt reply. 'When did it come to your knowledge?''When I reached home this morning.''You felt it your duty immediately to come to me, and tell me whatyour sister no doubt acquainted you with?''I did,' said Nicholas, 'though I could have wished to have spokento Mr Frank first.''Frank was with me last night,' replied the old gentleman. 'Youhave done well, Mr Nickleby--very well, sir--and I thank you again.'Upon this head, Nicholas requested permission to add a few words.He ventured to hope that nothing he had said would lead to theestrangement of Kate and Madeline, who had formed an attachment foreach other, any interruption of which would, he knew, be attendedwith great pain to them, and, most of all, with remorse and pain tohim, as its unhappy cause. When these things were all forgotten, hehoped that Frank and he might still be warm friends, and that noword or thought of his humble home, or of her who was well contentedto remain there and share his quiet fortunes, would ever againdisturb the harmony between them. He recounted, as nearly as hecould, what had passed between himself and Kate that morning:speaking of her with such warmth of pride and affection, anddwelling so cheerfully upon the confidence they had of overcomingany selfish regrets and living contented and happy in each other'slove, that few could have heard him unmoved. More moved himselfthan he had been yet, he expressed in a few hurried words--asexpressive, perhaps, as the most eloquent phrases--his devotion tothe brothers, and his hope that he might live and die in theirservice.To all this, brother Charles listened in profound silence, and withhis chair so turned from Nicholas that his face could not be seen.He had not spoken either, in his accustomed manner, but with acertain stiffness and embarrassment very foreign to it. Nicholasfeared he had offended him. He said, 'No, no, he had done quiteright,' but that was all.'Frank is a heedless, foolish fellow,' he said, after Nicholas hadpaused for some time; 'a very heedless, foolish fellow. I will takecare that this is brought to a close without delay. Let us say nomore upon the subject; it's a very painful one to me. Come to me inhalf an hour; I have strange things to tell you, my dear sir, andyour uncle has appointed this afternoon for your waiting upon himwith me.''Waiting upon him! With you, sir!' cried Nicholas.'Ay, with me,' replied the old gentleman. 'Return to me in half anhour, and I'll tell you more.'Nicholas waited upon him at the time mentioned, and then learnt allthat had taken place on the previous day, and all that was known ofthe appointment Ralph had made with the brothers; which was for thatnight; and for the better understanding of which it will berequisite to return and follow his own footsteps from the house ofthe twin brothers. Therefore, we leave Nicholas somewhat reassuredby the restored kindness of their manner towards him, and yetsensible that it was different from what it had been (though hescarcely knew in what respect): so he was full of uneasiness,uncertainty, and disquiet.