Throws some Light upon Nicholas’s Love; butwhether for Good or Evil the Reader mustdetermine.

　　After an anxious consideration of the painful andembarrassing position in which he was placed, Nicholasdecided that he ought to lose no time in frankly stating itto the kind brothers. Availing himself of the first opportunity ofbeing alone with Mr Charles Cheeryble at the close of next day, heaccordingly related Smike’s little history, and modestly but firmlyexpressed his hope that the good old gentleman would, under suchcircumstances as he described, hold him justified in adopting theextreme course of interfering between parent and child, andupholding the latter in his disobedience; even though his horrorand dread of his father might seem, and would doubtless berepresented as, a thing so repulsive and unnatural, as to renderthose who countenanced him in it, fit objects of generaldetestation and abhorrence.

　　‘So deeply rooted does this horror of the man appear to be,’ saidNicholas, ‘that I can hardly believe he really is his son. Naturedoes not seem to have implanted in his breast one lingering feelingof affection for him, and surely she can never err.’

　　‘My dear sir,’ replied brother Charles, ‘you fall into the verycommon mistake of charging upon Nature, matters with which shehas not the smallest connection, and for which she is in no wayresponsible. Men talk of Nature as an abstract thing, and lose sight of what is natural while they do so. Here is a poor lad who hasnever felt a parent’s care, who has scarcely known anything all hislife but suffering and sorrow, presented to a man who he is told ishis father, and whose first act is to signify his intention of puttingan end to his short term of happiness, of consigning him to his oldfate, and taking him from the only friend he has ever had—whichis yourself. If Nature, in such a case, put into that lad’s breast butone secret prompting which urged him towards his father andaway from you, she would be a liar and an idiot.’

　　Nicholas was delighted to find that the old gentleman spoke sowarmly, and in the hope that he might say something more to thesame purpose, made no reply.

　　‘The same mistake presents itself to me, in one shape or other,at every turn,’ said brother Charles. ‘Parents who never showedtheir love, complain of want of natural affection in their children;children who never showed their duty, complain of want of naturalfeeling in their parents; law-makers who find both so miserablethat their affections have never had enough of life’s sun to developthem, are loud in their moralisings over parents and children too,and cry that the very ties of nature are disregarded. Naturalaffections and instincts, my dear sir, are the most beautiful of theAlmighty’s works, but like other beautiful works of His, they mustbe reared and fostered, or it is as natural that they should bewholly obscured, and that new feelings should usurp their place,as it is that the sweetest productions of the earth, left untended,should be choked with weeds and briers. I wish we could bebrought to consider this, and remembering natural obligations alittle more at the right time, talk about them a little less at thewrong one.’

　　 After this, brother Charles, who had talked himself into a greatheat, stopped to cool a little, and then continued:

　　‘I dare say you are surprised, my dear sir, that I have listened toyour recital with so little astonishment. That is easily explained.

　　Your uncle has been here this morning.’

　　Nicholas coloured, and drew back a step or two.

　　‘Yes,’ said the old gentleman, tapping his desk emphatically,‘here, in this room. He would listen neither to reason, feeling, norjustice. But brother Ned was hard upon him; brother Ned, sir,might have melted a paving-stone.’

　　‘He came to—’ said Nicholas.

　　‘To complain of you,’ returned brother Charles, ‘to poison ourears with calumnies and falsehoods; but he came on a fruitlesserrand, and went away with some wholesome truths in his earbesides. Brother Ned, my dear My Nickleby—brother Ned, sir, is aperfect lion. So is Tim Linkinwater; Tim is quite a lion. We hadTim in to face him at first, and Tim was at him, sir, before youcould say “Jack Robinson.”’

　　‘How can I ever thank you for all the deep obligations youimpose upon me every day?’ said Nicholas.

　　‘By keeping silence upon the subject, my dear sir,’ returnedbrother Charles. ‘You shall be righted. At least you shall not bewronged. Nobody belonging to you shall be wronged. They shallnot hurt a hair of your head, or the boy’s head, or your mother’shead, or your sister’s head. I have said it, brother Ned has said it,Tim Linkinwater has said it. We have all said it, and we’ll all do it.

　　I have seen the father—if he is the father—and I suppose he mustbe. He is a barbarian and a hypocrite, Mr Nickleby. I told him,“You are a barbarian, sir.” I did. I said, “You’re a barbarian, sir.”

　　 And I’m glad of it, I am very glad I told him he was a barbarian,very glad indeed!’

　　By this time brother Charles was in such a very warm state ofindignation, that Nicholas thought he might venture to put in aword, but the moment he essayed to do so, Mr Cheeryble laid hishand softly upon his arm, and pointed to a chair.

　　‘The subject is at an end for the present,’ said the oldgentleman, wiping his face. ‘Don’t revive it by a single word. I amgoing to speak upon another subject, a confidential subject, MrNickleby. We must be cool again, we must be cool.’

　　After two or three turns across the room he resumed his seat,and drawing his chair nearer to that on which Nicholas wasseated, said:

　　‘I am about to employ you, my dear sir, on a confidential anddelicate mission.’

　　‘You might employ many a more able messenger, sir,’ saidNicholas, ‘but a more trustworthy or zealous one, I may be bold tosay, you could not find.’

　　‘Of that I am well assured,’ returned brother Charles, ‘wellassured. You will give me credit for thinking so, when I tell youthat the object of this mission is a young lady.’

　　‘A young lady, sir!’ cried Nicholas, quite trembling for themoment with his eagerness to hear more.

　　‘A very beautiful young lady,’ said Mr Cheeryble, gravely.

　　‘Pray go on, sir,’ returned Nicholas.

　　‘I am thinking how to do so,’ said brother Charles; sadly, as itseemed to his young friend, and with an expression allied to pain.

　　‘You accidentally saw a young lady in this room one morning, mydear sir, in a fainting fit. Do you remember? Perhaps you have forgotten.’

　　‘Oh no,’ replied Nicholas, hurriedly. ‘I—I—remember it verywell indeed.’

　　‘She is the lady I speak of,’ said brother Charles. Like thefamous parrot, Nicholas thought a great deal, but was unable toutter a word.

　　‘She is the daughter,’ said Mr Cheeryble, ‘of a lady who, whenshe was a beautiful girl herself, and I was very many yearsyounger, I—it seems a strange word for me to utter now—I lovedvery dearly. You will smile, perhaps, to hear a grey-headed mantalk about such things. You will not offend me, for when I was asyoung as you, I dare say I should have done the same.’

　　‘I have no such inclination, indeed,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘My dear brother Ned,’ continued Mr Cheeryble, ‘was to havemarried her sister, but she died. She is dead too now, and hasbeen for many years. She married her choice; and I wish I couldadd that her after-life was as happy as God knows I ever prayed itmight be!’

　　A short silence intervened, which Nicholas made no effort tobreak.

　　‘If trial and calamity had fallen as lightly on his head, as in thedeepest truth of my own heart I ever hoped (for her sake) it would,his life would have been one of peace and happiness,’ said the oldgentleman calmly. ‘It will be enough to say that this was not thecase; that she was not happy; that they fell into complicateddistresses and difficulties; that she came, twelve months beforeher death, to appeal to my old friendship; sadly changed, sadlyaltered, broken-spirited from suffering and ill-usage, and almostbroken-hearted. He readily availed himself of the money which, to give her but one hour’s peace of mind, I would have poured out asfreely as water—nay, he often sent her back for more—and yeteven while he squandered it, he made the very success of these,her applications to me, the groundwork of cruel taunts and jeers,protesting that he knew she thought with bitter remorse of thechoice she had made, that she had married him from motives ofinterest and vanity (he was a gay young man with great friendsabout him when she chose him for her husband), and venting inshort upon her, by every unjust and unkind means, the bitternessof that ruin and disappointment which had been brought about byhis profligacy alone. In those times this young lady was a merechild. I never saw her again until that morning when you saw heralso, but my nephew, Frank—’

　　Nicholas started, and indistinctly apologising for theinterruption, begged his patron to proceed.

　　‘—My nephew, Frank, I say,’ resumed Mr Cheeryble,‘encountered her by accident, and lost sight of her almost in aminute afterwards, within two days after he returned to England.

　　Her father lay in some secret place to avoid his creditors, reduced,between sickness and poverty, to the verge of death, and she, achild,—we might almost think, if we did not know the wisdom ofall Heaven’s decrees—who should have blessed a better man, wassteadily braving privation, degradation, and everything mostterrible to such a young and delicate creature’s heart, for thepurpose of supporting him. She was attended, sir,’ said brotherCharles, ‘in these reverses, by one faithful creature, who had been,in old times, a poor kitchen wench in the family, who was thentheir solitary servant, but who might have been, for the truth andfidelity of her heart—who might have been—ah! the wife of Tim Linkinwater himself, sir!’

　　Pursuing this encomium upon the poor follower with suchenergy and relish as no words can describe, brother Charles leantback in his chair, and delivered the remainder of his relation withgreater composure.

　　It was in substance this: That proudly resisting all offers ofpermanent aid and support from her late mother’s friends,because they were made conditional upon her quitting thewretched man, her father, who had no friends left, and shrinkingwith instinctive delicacy from appealing in their behalf to that trueand noble heart which he hated, and had, through its greatest andpurest goodness, deeply wronged by misconstruction and illreport, this young girl had struggled alone and unassisted tomaintain him by the labour of her hands. That through the utmostdepths of poverty and affliction she had toiled, never turning asidefor an instant from her task, never wearied by the petulant gloomof a sick man sustained by no consoling recollections of the past orhopes of the future; never repining for the comforts she hadrejected, or bewailing the hard lot she had voluntarily incurred.

　　That every little accomplishment she had acquired in happier dayshad been put into requisition for this purpose, and directed to thisone end. That for two long years, toiling by day and often too bynight, working at the needle, the pencil, and the pen, andsubmitting, as a daily governess, to such caprices and indignitiesas women (with daughters too) too often love to inflict upon theirown sex when they serve in such capacities, as though in jealousyof the superior intelligence which they are necessitated toemploy,—indignities, in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred,heaped upon persons immeasurably and incalculably their betters, but outweighing in comparison any that the most heartlessblackleg would put upon his groom—that for two long years, bydint of labouring in all these capacities and wearying in none, shehad not succeeded in the sole aim and object of her life, but that,overwhelmed by accumulated difficulties and disappointments,she had been compelled to seek out her mother’s old friend, and,with a bursting heart, to confide in him at last.

　　‘If I had been poor,’ said brother Charles, with sparkling eyes;‘if I had been poor, Mr Nickleby, my dear sir, which thank God Iam not, I would have denied myself (of course anybody wouldunder such circumstances) the commonest necessaries of life, tohelp her. As it is, the task is a difficult one. If her father were dead,nothing could be easier, for then she should share and cheer thehappiest home that brother Ned and I could have, as if she wereour child or sister. But he is still alive. Nobody can help him; thathas been tried a thousand times; he was not abandoned by allwithout good cause, I know.’

　　‘Cannot she be persuaded to—’ Nicholas hesitated when he hadgot thus far.

　　‘To leave him?’ said brother Charles. ‘Who could entreat a childto desert her parent? Such entreaties, limited to her seeing himoccasionally, have been urged upon her—not by me—but alwayswith the same result.’

　　‘Is he kind to her?’ said Nicholas. ‘Does he requite heraffection?’

　　‘True kindness, considerate self-denying kindness, is not in hisnature,’ returned Mr Cheeryble. ‘Such kindness as he knows, heregards her with, I believe. The mother was a gentle, loving,confiding creature, and although he wounded her from their marriage till her death as cruelly and wantonly as ever man did,she never ceased to love him. She commended him on her deathbed to her child’s care. Her child has never forgotten it, and neverwill.’

　　‘Have you no influence over him?’ asked Nicholas.

　　‘I, my dear sir! The last man in the world. Such are his jealousyand hatred of me, that if he knew his daughter had opened herheart to me, he would render her life miserable with hisreproaches; although—this is the inconsistency and selfishness ofhis character—although if he knew that every penny she had camefrom me, he would not relinquish one personal desire that themost reckless expenditure of her scanty stock could gratify.’

　　‘An unnatural scoundrel!’ said Nicholas, indignantly.

　　‘We will use no harsh terms,’ said brother Charles, in a gentlevoice; ‘but accommodate ourselves to the circumstances in whichthis young lady is placed. Such assistance as I have prevailed uponher to accept, I have been obliged, at her own earnest request, todole out in the smallest portions, lest he, finding how easily moneywas procured, should squander it even more lightly than he isaccustomed to do. She has come to and fro, to and fro, secretly andby night, to take even this; and I cannot bear that things should goon in this way, Mr Nickleby, I really cannot bear it.’

　　Then it came out by little and little, how that the twins hadbeen revolving in their good old heads manifold plans andschemes for helping this young lady in the most delicate andconsiderate way, and so that her father should not suspect thesource whence the aid was derived; and how they had at last cometo the conclusion, that the best course would be to make a feint ofpurchasing her little drawings and ornamental work at a high price, and keeping up a constant demand for the same. For thefurtherance of which end and object it was necessary thatsomebody should represent the dealer in such commodities, andafter great deliberation they had pitched upon Nicholas to supportthis character.

　　‘He knows me,’ said brother Charles, ‘and he knows my brotherNed. Neither of us would do. Frank is a very good fellow—a veryfine fellow—but we are afraid that he might be a little flighty andthoughtless in such a delicate matter, and that he might,perhaps—that he might, in short, be too susceptible (for she is abeautiful creature, sir; just what her poor mother was), and fallingin love with her before he knew well his own mind, carry pain andsorrow into that innocent breast, which we would be the humbleinstruments of gradually making happy. He took an extraordinaryinterest in her fortunes when he first happened to encounter her;and we gather from the inquiries we have made of him, that it wasshe in whose behalf he made that turmoil which led to your firstacquaintance.’

　　Nicholas stammered out that he had before suspected thepossibility of............