Containing Matter of a surprising Kind.

　　‘A s we gang awa’ fra’ Lunnun tomorrow neeght, and as Idinnot know that I was e’er so happy in a’ my days,Misther Nickleby, Ding! but I will tak’ anoother glass toour next merry meeting!’

　　So said John Browdie, rubbing his hands with great joyousness,and looking round him with a ruddy shining face, quite in keepingwith the declaration.

　　The time at which John found himself in this enviable conditionwas the same evening to which the last chapter bore reference; theplace was the cottage; and the assembled company were Nicholas,Mrs Nickleby, Mrs Browdie, Kate Nickleby, and Smike.

　　A very merry party they had been. Mrs Nickleby, knowing ofher son’s obligations to the honest Yorkshireman, had, after somedemur, yielded her consent to Mr and Mrs Browdie being invitedout to tea; in the way of which arrangement, there were at firstsundry difficulties and obstacles, arising out of her not having hadan opportunity of ‘calling’ upon Mrs Browdie first; for althoughMrs Nickleby very often observed with much complacency (asmost punctilious people do), that she had not an atom of pride orformality about her, still she was a great stickler for dignity andceremonies; and as it was manifest that, until a call had beenmade, she could not be (politely speaking, and according to thelaws of society) even cognisant of the fact of Mrs Browdie’sexistence, she felt her situation to be one of peculiar delicacy and difficulty.

　　‘The call must originate with me, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby,‘that’s indispensable. The fact is, my dear, that it’s necessary thereshould be a sort of condescension on my part, and that I shouldshow this young person that I am willing to take notice of her.

　　There’s a very respectable-looking young man,’ added MrsNickleby, after a short consideration, ‘who is conductor to one ofthe omnibuses that go by here, and who wears a glazed hat—yoursister and I have noticed him very often—he has a wart upon hisnose, Kate, you know, exactly like a gentleman’s servant.’

　　‘Have all gentlemen’s servants warts upon their noses, mother?’

　　asked Nicholas.

　　‘Nicholas, my dear, how very absurd you are,’ returned hismother; ‘of course I mean that his glazed hat looks like agentleman’s servant, and not the wart upon his nose; though eventhat is not so ridiculous as it may seem to you, for we had a footboyonce, who had not only a wart, but a wen also, and a very largewen too, and he demanded to have his wages raised inconsequence, because he found it came very expensive. Let mesee, what was I—oh yes, I know. The best way that I can think ofwould be to send a card, and my compliments, (I’ve no doubt he’dtake ’em for a pot of porter,) by this young man, to the Saracenwith Two Necks. If the waiter took him for a gentleman’s servant,so much the better. Then all Mrs Browdie would have to do wouldbe to send her card back by the carrier (he could easily come witha double knock), and there’s an end of it.’

　　‘My dear mother,’ said Nicholas, ‘I don’t suppose suchunsophisticated people as these ever had a card of their own, orever will have.’

　　 ‘Oh that, indeed, Nicholas, my dear,’ returned Mrs Nickleby,‘that’s another thing. If you put it upon that ground, why, ofcourse, I have no more to say, than that I have no doubt they arevery good sort of persons, and that I have no kind of objection totheir coming here to tea if they like, and shall make a point ofbeing very civil to them if they do.’

　　The point being thus effectually set at rest, and Mrs Nicklebyduly placed in the patronising and mildly-condescending positionwhich became her rank and matrimonial years, Mr and MrsBrowdie were invited and came; and as they were very deferentialto Mrs Nickleby, and seemed to have a becoming appreciation ofher greatness, and were very much pleased with everything, thegood lady had more than once given Kate to understand, in awhisper, that she thought they were the very best-meaning peopleshe had ever seen, and perfectly well behaved.

　　And thus it came to pass, that John Browdie declared, in theparlour after supper, to wit, and twenty minutes before eleveno’clock p.m., that he had never been so happy in all his days.

　　Nor was Mrs Browdie much behind her husband in thisrespect, for that young matron, whose rustic beauty contrastedvery prettily with the more delicate loveliness of Kate, and withoutsuffering by the contrast either, for each served as it were to set offand decorate the other, could not sufficiently admire the gentleand winning manners of the young lady, or the engaging affabilityof the elder one. Then Kate had the art of turning the conversationto subjects upon which the country girl, bashful at first in strangecompany, could feel herself at home; and if Mrs Nickleby was notquite so felicitous at times in the selection of topics of discourse, orif she did seem, as Mrs Browdie expressed it, ‘rather high in her notions,’ still nothing could be kinder, and that she tookconsiderable interest in the young couple was manifest from thevery long lectures on housewifery with which she was so obligingas to entertain Mrs Browdie’s private ear, which were illustratedby various references to the domestic economy of the cottage, inwhich (those duties falling exclusively upon Kate) the good ladyhad about as much share, either in theory or practice, as any oneof the statues of the Twelve Apostles which embellish the exteriorof St Paul’s Cathedral.

　　‘Mr Browdie,’ said Kate, addressing his young wife, ‘is the best-humoured, the kindest and heartiest creature I ever saw. If I wereoppressed with I don’t know how many cares, it would make mehappy only to look at him.’

　　‘He does seem indeed, upon my word, a most excellentcreature, Kate,’ said Mrs Nickleby; ‘most excellent. And I am surethat at all times it will give me pleasure—really pleasure now—tohave you, Mrs Browdie, to see me in this plain and homelymanner. We make no display,’ said Mrs Nickleby, with an airwhich seemed to insinuate that they could make a vast deal if theywere so disposed; ‘no fuss, no preparation; I wouldn’t allow it. Isaid, “Kate, my dear, you will only make Mrs Browdie feeluncomfortable, and how very foolish and inconsiderate that wouldbe!” ‘‘I am very much obliged to you, I am sure, ma’am,’ returnedMrs Browdie, gratefully. ‘It’s nearly eleven o’clock, John. I amafraid we are keeping you up very late, ma’am.’

　　‘Late!’ cried Mrs Nickleby, with a sharp thin laugh, and onelittle cough at the end, like a note of admiration expressed. ‘This isquite early for us. We used to keep such hours! Twelve, one, two, three o’clock was nothing to us. Balls, dinners, card-parties! Neverwere such rakes as the people about where we used to live. I oftenthink now, I am sure, that how we ever could go through with it isquite astonishing, and that is just the evil of having a largeconnection and being a great deal sought after, which I wouldrecommend all young married people steadily to resist; though ofcourse, and it’s perfectly clear, and a very happy thing too, I think,that very few young married people can be exposed to suchtemptations. There was one family in particular, that used to liveabout a mile from us—not straight down the road, but turningsharp off to the left by the turnpike where the Plymouth mail ranover the donkey—that were quite extraordinary people for givingthe most extravagant parties, with artificial flowers andchampagne, and variegated lamps, and, in short, every delicacy ofeating and drinking that the most singular epicure could possiblyrequire. I don’t think that there ever were such people as thosePeltiroguses. You remember the Peltiroguses, Kate?’

　　Kate saw that for the ease and comfort of the visitors it washigh time to stay this flood of recollection, so answered that sheentertained of the Peltiroguses a most vivid and distinctremembrance; and then said that Mr Browdie had half promised,early in the evening, that he would sing a Yorkshire song, and thatshe was most impatient that he should redeem his promise,because she was sure it would afford her mama more amusementand pleasure than it was possible to express.

　　Mrs Nickleby confirming her daughter with the best possiblegrace—for there was patronage in that too, and a kind ofimplication that she had a discerning taste in such matters, andwas something of a critic—John Browdie proceeded to consider the words of some north-country ditty, and to take his wife’srecollection respecting the same. This done, he made diversungainly movements in his chair, and singling out one particularfly on the ceiling from the other flies there asleep, fixed his eyesupon him, and began to roar a meek sentiment (supposed to beuttered by a gentle swain fast pining away with love and despair)in a voice of thunder.

　　At the end of the first verse, as though some person without hadwaited until then to make himself audible, was heard a loud andviolent knocking at the street-door; so loud and so violent, indeed,that the ladies started as by one accord, and John Browdiestopped.

　　‘It must be some mistake,’ said Nicholas, carelessly. ‘We knownobody who would come here at this hour.’

　　Mrs Nickleby surmised, however, that perhaps the countinghouse was burnt down, or perhaps ‘the Mr Cheerybles’ had sent totake Nicholas into partnership (which certainly appeared highlyprobable at that time of night), or perhaps Mr Linkinwater hadrun away with the property, or perhaps Miss La Creevy was takenin, or perhaps—But a hasty exclamation from Kate stopped her abruptly in herconjectures, and Ralph Nickleby walked into the room.

　　‘Stay,’ said Ralph, as Nicholas rose, and Kate, making her waytowards him, threw herself upon his arm. ‘Before that boy says aword, hear me.’

　　Nicholas bit his lip and shook his head in a threatening manner,but appeared for the moment unable to articulate a syllable. Kateclung closer to his arm, Smike retreated behind them, and JohnBrowdie, who had heard of Ralph, and appeared to have no great difficulty in recognising him, stepped between the old man and hisyoung friend, as if with the intention of preventing either of themfrom advancing a step further.

　　‘Hear me, I say,’ said Ralph, ‘and not him.’

　　‘Say what thou’st gotten to say then, sir,’ retorted John; ‘andtak’ care thou dinnot put up angry bluid which thou’dst betthertry to quiet.’

　　‘I should know you,’ said Ralph, ‘by your tongue; and him’

　　(pointing to Smike) ‘by his looks.’

　　‘Don’t speak to him,’ said Nicholas, recovering his voice. ‘I willnot have it. I will not hear him. I do not know that man. I cannotbreathe the air that he corrupts. His presence is an insult to mysister. It is shame to see him. I will not bear it.’

　　‘Stand!’ cried John, laying his heavy hand upon his chest.

　　‘Then let him instantly retire,’ said Nicholas, struggling. ‘I amnot going to lay hands upon him, but he shall withdraw. I will nothave him here. John, John Browdie, is this my house, am I achild? If he stands there,’ cried Nicholas, burning with fury,‘looking so calmly upon those who know his black and dastardlyheart, he’ll drive me mad.’

　　To all these exclamations John Browdie answered not a word,but he retained his hold upon Nicholas; and when he was silentagain, spoke.

　　‘There’s more to say and hear than thou think’st for,’ said John.

　　‘I tell’ee I ha’ gotten scent o’ thot already. Wa’at be that shadowootside door there? Noo, schoolmeasther, show thyself, mun;dinnot be sheame-feaced. Noo, auld gen’l’man, let’s haveschoolmeasther, coom.’

　　Hearing this adjuration, Mr Squeers, who had been lingering in the passage until such time as it should be expedient for him toenter and he could appear with effect, was fain to present himselfin a somewhat undignified and sneaking way; at which JohnBrowdie laughed with such keen and heartfelt delight, that evenKate, in all the pain, anxiety, and surprise of the scene, andthough the tears were in her eyes, felt a disposition to join him.

　　‘Have you done enjoying yourself, sir?’ said Ralph, at length.

　　‘Pratty nigh for the prasant time, sir,’ replied John.

　　‘I can wait,’ said Ralph. ‘Take your own time, pray.’

　　Ralph waited until there was a perfect silence, and then turningto Mrs Nickleby, but directing an eager glance at Kate, as if moreanxious to watch his effect upon her, said:

　　‘Now, ma’am, listen to me. I don’t imagine that you were a partyto a very fine tirade of words sent me by that boy of yours, becauseI don’t believe that under his control, you have the slightest will ofyour own, or that your advice, your opinion, your wants, yourwishes, anything which in nature and reason (or of what use isyour great experience?) ought to weigh with him, has the slightestinfluence or weight whatever, or is taken for a moment intoaccount.’

　　Mrs Nickleby shook her head and sighed, as if there were agood deal in that, certainly.

　　‘For this reason,’ resumed Ralph, ‘I address myself to you,ma’am. For this reason, partly, and partly because I do not wish tobe disgraced by the acts of a vicious stripling whom I was obligedto disown, and who, afterwards, in his boyish majesty, feigns to—ha! ha!—to disown me, I present myself here tonight. I haveanother motive in coming: a motive of humanity. I come here,’ saidRalph, looking round with a biting and triumphant smile, and gloating and dwelling upon the words as if he were loath to losethe pleasure of saying them, ‘to restore a parent his child. Ay, sir,’

　　he continued, bending eagerly forward, and addressing Nicholas,as he marked the change of his countenance, ‘to restore a parenthis child; his son, sir; trepanned, waylaid, and guarded at everyturn by you, with the base design of robbing him some day of anylittle wretched pittance of which he might become possessed.’

　　‘In that, you know you lie,’ said Nicholas, proudly.

　　‘In this, I know I speak the truth. I have his father here,’

　　retorted Ralph.

　　‘Here!’ sneered Squeers, stepping forward. ‘Do you hear that?

　　Here! Didn’t I tell you to be careful that his father didn’t turn upand send him back to me? Why, his father’s my friend; he’s tocome back to me directly, he is. Now, what do you say—eh!—now—come—what do you say to that—an’t you sorry you took somuch trouble for nothing? an’t you? an’t you?’

　　‘You bear upon your body certain marks I gave you,’ saidNicholas, looking quietly away, ‘and may talk in acknowledgmentof them as much as you please. You’ll talk a long time before yourub them out, Mr Squeers.’

　　The estimable gentleman last named cast a hasty look at thetable, as if he were prompted by this retort to throw a jug or bottleat the head of Nicholas, but he w............