Chapter 52

Nicholas despairs of rescuing Madeline Bray, butplucks up his Spirits again, and determines toattempt it. Domestic Intelligence of the Kenwigsesand Lillyvicks.

　　Finding that Newman was determined to arrest his progressat any hazard, and apprehensive that some well-intentioned passenger, attracted by the cry of ‘Stop thief,’

　　might lay violent hands upon his person, and place him in adisagreeable predicament from which he might have somedifficulty in extricating himself, Nicholas soon slackened his pace,and suffered Newman Noggs to come up with him: which he did,in so breathless a condition, that it seemed impossible he couldhave held out for a minute longer.

　　‘I will go straight to Bray’s,’ said Nicholas. ‘I will see this man. Ifthere is a feeling of humanity lingering in his breast, a spark ofconsideration for his own child, motherless and friendless as sheis, I will awaken it.’

　　‘You will not,’ replied Newman. ‘You will not, indeed.’

　　‘Then,’ said Nicholas, pressing onward, ‘I will act upon my firstimpulse, and go straight to Ralph Nickleby.’

　　‘By the time you reach his house he will be in bed,’ saidNewman.

　　‘I’ll drag him from it,’ cried Nicholas.

　　‘Tut, tut,’ said Noggs. ‘Be yourself.’

　　‘You are the best of friends to me, Newman,’ rejoined Nicholas after a pause, and taking his hand as he spoke. ‘I have made headagainst many trials; but the misery of another, and such misery, isinvolved in this one, that I declare to you I am rendered desperate,and know not how to act.’

　　In truth, it did seem a hopeless case. It was impossible to makeany use of such intelligence as Newman Noggs had gleaned, whenhe lay concealed in the closet. The mere circumstance of thecompact between Ralph Nickleby and Gride would not invalidatethe marriage, or render Bray averse to it, who, if he did notactually know of the existence of some such understanding,doubtless suspected it. What had been hinted with reference tosome fraud on Madeline, had been put, with sufficient obscurityby Arthur Gride, but coming from Newman Noggs, and obscuredstill further by the smoke of his pocket-pistol, it became whollyunintelligible, and involved in utter darkness.

　　‘There seems no ray of hope,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, forconsideration, for thought,’ said Newman, pausing at everyalternate word, to look anxiously in his friend’s face. ‘Where arethe brothers?’

　　‘Both absent on urgent business, as they will be for a week tocome.’

　　‘Is there no way of communicating with them? No way ofgetting one of them here by tomorrow night?’

　　‘Impossible!’ said Nicholas, ‘the sea is between us and them.

　　With the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and return would takethree days and nights.’

　　‘Their nephew,’ said Newman, ‘their old clerk.’

　　‘What could either do, that I cannot?’ rejoined Nicholas. ‘With reference to them, especially, I am enjoined to the strictest silenceon this subject. What right have I to betray the confidence reposedin me, when nothing but a miracle can prevent this sacrifice?’

　　‘Think,’ urged Newman. ‘Is there no way.’

　　‘There is none,’ said Nicholas, in utter dejection. ‘Not one. Thefather urges, the daughter consents. These demons have her intheir toils; legal right, might, power, money, and every influenceare on their side. How can I hope to save her?’

　　‘Hope to the last!’ said Newman, clapping him on the back.

　　‘Always hope; that’s a dear boy. Never leave off hoping; it don’tanswer. Do you mind me, Nick? It don’t answer. Don’t leave astone unturned. It’s always something, to know you’ve done themost you could. But, don’t leave off hoping, or it’s of no use doinganything. Hope, hope, to the last!’

　　Nicholas needed encouragement. The suddenness with whichintelligence of the two usurers’ plans had come upon him, the littletime which remained for exertion, the probability, almostamounting to certainty itself, that a few hours would placeMadeline Bray for ever beyond his reach, consign her tounspeakable misery, and perhaps to an untimely death; all thisquite stunned and overwhelmed him. Every hope connected withher that he had suffered himself to form, or had entertainedunconsciously, seemed to fall at his feet, withered and dead. Everycharm with which his memory or imagination had surroundedher, presented itself before him, only to heighten his anguish andadd new bitterness to his despair. Every feeling of sympathy forher forlorn condition, and of admiration for her heroism andfortitude, aggravated the indignation which shook him in everylimb, and swelled his heart almost to bursting.

　　 But, if Nicholas’s own heart embarrassed him, Newman’s cameto his relief. There was so much earnestness in his remonstrance,and such sincerity and fervour in his manner, odd and ludicrousas it always was, that it imparted to Nicholas new firmness, andenabled him to say, after he had walked on for some little way insilence:

　　‘You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit by it.

　　One step, at least, I may take—am bound to take indeed—and tothat I will apply myself tomorrow.’

　　‘What is that?’ asked Noggs wistfully. ‘Not to threaten Ralph?

　　Not to see the father?’

　　‘To see the daughter, Newman,’ replied Nicholas. ‘To do what,after all, is the utmost that the brothers could do, if they werehere, as Heaven send they were! To reason with her upon thishideous union, to point out to her all the horrors to which she ishastening; rashly, it may be, and without due reflection. To entreather, at least, to pause. She can have had no counsellor for hergood. Perhaps even I may move her so far yet, though it is theeleventh hour, and she upon the very brink of ruin.’

　　‘Bravely spoken!’ said Newman. ‘Well done, well done! Yes.

　　Very good.’

　　‘And I do declare,’ cried Nicholas, with honest enthusiasm, ‘thatin this effort I am influenced by no selfish or personalconsiderations, but by pity for her, and detestation andabhorrence of this scheme; and that I would do the same, werethere twenty rivals in the field, and I the last and least favoured ofthem all.’

　　‘You would, I believe,’ said Newman. ‘But where are youhurrying now?’

　　 ‘Homewards,’ answered Nicholas. ‘Do you come with me, or Ishall say good-night?’

　　‘I’ll come a little way, if you will but walk: not run,’ said Noggs.

　　‘I cannot walk tonight, Newman,’ returned Nicholas, hurriedly.

　　‘I must move rapidly, or I could not draw my breath. I’ll tell youwhat I’ve said and done tomorrow.’

　　Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace, and,plunging into the crowds which thronged the street, was quicklylost to view.

　　‘He’s a violent youth at times,’ said Newman, looking after him;‘and yet like him for it. There’s cause enough now, or the deuce isin it. Hope! I said hope, I think! Ralph Nickleby and Gride withtheir heads together! And hope for the opposite party! Ho! ho!’

　　It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggsconcluded this soliloquy; and it was with a very melancholy shakeof the head, and a very rueful countenance, that he turned about,and went plodding on his way.

　　This, under ordinary circumstances, would have been to somesmall tavern or dram-shop; that being his way, in more sensesthan one. But, Newman was too much interested, and too anxious,to betake himself even to this resource, and so, with manydesponding and dismal reflections, went straight home.

　　It had come to pass, that afternoon, that Miss MorleenaKenwigs had received an invitation to repair next day, per steamerfrom Westminster Bridge, unto the Eel-pie Island at Twickenham:

　　there to make merry upon a cold collation, bottled beer, shrub,and shrimps, and to dance in the open air to the music of alocomotive band, conveyed thither for the purpose: the steamerbeing specially engaged by a dancing-master of extensive connection for the accommodation of his numerous pupils, andthe pupils displaying their appreciation of the dancing-master’sservices, by purchasing themselves, and inducing their friends todo the like, divers light-blue tickets, entitling them to join theexpedition. Of these light-blue tickets, one had been presented byan ambitious neighbour to Miss Morleena Kenwigs, with aninvitation to join her daughters; and Mrs Kenwigs, rightlydeeming that the honour of the family was involved in MissMorleena’s making the most splendid appearance possible on soshort a notice, and testifying to the dancing-master that therewere other dancing-masters besides him, and to all fathers andmothers present that other people’s children could learn to begenteel besides theirs, had fainted away twice under themagnitude of her preparations, but, upheld by a determination tosustain the family name or perish in the attempt, was still hard atwork when Newman Noggs came home.

　　Now, between the italian-ironing of frills, the flouncing oftrousers, the trimming of frocks, the faintings and the comings-toagain, incidental to the occasion, Mrs Kenwigs had been soentirely occupied, that she had not observed, until within half anhour before, that the flaxen tails of Miss Morleena’s hair were, in amanner, run to seed; and that, unless she were put under thehands of a skilful hairdresser, she never could achieve that signaltriumph over the daughters of all other people, anything less thanwhich would be tantamount to defeat. This discovery drove MrsKenwigs to despair; for the hairdresser lived three streets andeight dangerous crossings off; Morleena could not be trusted to gothere alone, even if such a proceeding were strictly proper: ofwhich Mrs Kenwigs had her doubts; Mr Kenwigs had not returned from business; and there was nobody to take her. So, Mrs Kenwigsfirst slapped Miss Kenwigs for being the cause of her vexation, andthen shed tears.

　　‘You ungrateful child!’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘after I have gonethrough what I have, this night, for your good.’

　　‘I can’t help it, ma,’ replied Morleena, also in tears; ‘my hair willgrow.’

　　‘Don’t talk to me, you naughty thing!’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘don’t!

　　Even if I was to trust you by yourself and you were to escape beingrun over, I know you’d run in to Laura Chopkins,’ who was thedaughter of the ambitious neighbour, ‘and tell her what you’regoing to wear tomorrow, I know you would. You’ve no properpride in yourself, and are not to be trusted out of sight for aninstant.’

　　Deploring the evil-mindedness of her eldest daughter in theseterms, Mrs Kenwigs distilled fresh drops of vexation from hereyes, and declared that she did believe there never was anybodyso tried as she was. Thereupon, Morleena Kenwigs wept afresh,and they bemoaned themselves together.

　　Matters were at this point, as Newman Noggs was heard to limppast the door on his way upstairs; when Mrs Kenwigs, gaining newhope from the sound of his footsteps, hastily removed from hercountenance as many traces of her late emotion as were effaceableon so short a notice: and presenting herself before him, andrepresenting their dilemma, entreated that he would escortMorleena to the hairdresser’s shop.

　　‘I wouldn’t ask you, Mr Noggs,’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘if I didn’tknow what a good, kind-hearted creature you are; no, not forworlds. I am a weak constitution, Mr Noggs, but my spirit would no more let me ask a favour where I thought there was a chance ofits being refused, than it would let me submit to see my childrentrampled down and trod upon, by envy and lowness!’

　　Newman was too good-natured not to have consented, evenwithout this avowal of confidence on the part of Mrs Kenwigs.

　　Accordingly, a very few minutes had elapsed, when he and MissMorleena were on their way to the hairdresser’s.

　　It was not exactly a hair-dresser’s; that is to say, people of acoarse and vulgar turn of mind might have called it a barber’s; forthey not only cut and curled ladies elegantly, and childrencarefully, but shaved gentlemen easily. Still, it was a highly genteelestablishment—quite first-rate in fact—and there were displayedin the window, besides other elegancies, waxen busts of a lightlady and a dark gentleman which were the admiration of thewhole neighbourhood. Indeed, some ladies had gone so far as toassert, that the dark gentleman was actually a portrait of thespirited young proprietor; and the great similarity between theirhead-dresses—both wore very glossy hair, with a narrow walkstraight down the middle, and a profusion of flat circular curls onboth sides—encouraged the idea. The better informed among thesex, however, made light of this assertion, for however willing theywere (and they were very willing) to do full justice to thehandsome face and figure of the proprietor, they held thecountenance of the dark gentleman in the window to be anexquisite and abstract idea of masculine beauty, realisedsometimes, perhaps, among angels and military men, but veryrarely embodied to gladden the eyes of mortals.

　　It was to this establishment that Newman Noggs led MissKenwigs in safety. The proprietor, knowing that Miss Kenwigs had three sisters, each with two flaxen tails, and all good forsixpence apiece, once a month at least, promptly deserted an oldgentleman whom he had just lathered for shaving, and handinghim over to the journeyman, (who was not very popular among theladies, by reason of his obesity and middle age,) waited on theyoung lady himself.

　　Just as this change had been effected, there presented himselffor shaving, a big, burly, good-humoured coal-heaver with a pipein his mouth, who, drawing his hand across his chin, requested toknow when a shaver would be disengaged.

　　The journeyman, to whom this question was put, lookeddoubtfully at the young proprietor, and the young proprietorlooked scornfully at the coal-heaver: observing at the same time:

　　‘You won’t get shaved here, my man.’

　　‘Why not?’ said the coal-heaver.

　　‘We don’t shave gentlemen in your line,’ remarked the youngproprietor.

　　‘Why, I see you a shaving of a baker, when I was a lookingthrough the winder, last week,’ said the coal-heaver.

　　‘It’s necessary to draw the line somewheres, my fine feller,’

　　replied the principal. ‘We draw the line there. We can’t go beyondbakers. If we was to get any lower than bakers, our customerswould desert us, and we might shut up shop. You must try someother establishment, sir. We couldn’t do it here.’

　　The applicant stared; grinned at Newman Noggs, whoappeared highly entertained; looked slightly round the shop, as ifin depreciation of the pomatum pots and other articles of stock;took his pipe out of his mouth and gave a very loud whistle; andthen put it in again, and walked out.

　　 The old gentleman who had just been lathered, and who wassitting in a melancholy manner with his face turned towards thewall, appeared quite unconscious of this incident, and to beinsensible to everything around him in the depth of a reverie—avery mournful one, to judge from the sighs he occasionallyvented—in which he was absorbed. Affected by this example, theproprietor began to clip Miss Kenwigs, the journeyman to scrapethe old gentleman, and Newman Noggs to read last Sunday’spaper, all three in silence: when Miss Kenwigs uttered a shrilllittle scream, and Newman, raising his eyes, saw that it had beenelicited by the circumstance of the old gentleman turning his head,and disclosing the features of Mr Lillyvick the collector.

　　The features of Mr Lillyvick they were, but strangely altered. Ifever an old gentleman had made a point of appearing in public,shaved close and clean, that old gentleman was Mr Lillyvick. Ifever a collector had borne himself like a collector, and assumed,before all men, a solemn and portentous dignity as if he had theworld on his books and it was all two quarters in arrear, thatcollector was Mr Lillyvick. And now, there he sat, with theremains of a beard at least a week old encumbering his chin; asoiled and crumpled shirt-frill crouching, as it were, upon hisbreast, instead of standing boldly out; a demeanour so abashedand drooping, so despondent, and expressive of such humiliation,grief, and shame; that if the souls of forty unsubstantialhousekeepers, all of whom had had their water cut off for nonpayment of the rate, could have been concentrated in one body,that one body could hardly have expressed such mortification anddefeat as were now expressed in the person of Mr Lillyvick thecollector.

　　 Newman Noggs uttered his name, and Mr Lillyvick groaned:

　　then coughed to hide it. But the groan was a full-sized groan, andthe cough was but a wheeze.

　　‘Is anything the matter?’ said Newman Noggs.

　　‘Matter, sir!’ cried Mr Lillyvick. ‘The plug of life is dry, sir, andbut the mud is left.’

　　This speech—the style of which Newman attributed to MrLillyvick’s recent association with theatrical characters—not beingquite explanatory, Newman looked as if he were about to askanother question, when Mr Lillyvick prevented him by shaking hishand mournfully, and then waving his own.

　　‘Let me be shaved!’ said Mr Lillyvick. ‘It shall be done beforeMorleena; it is Morleena, isn’t it?’

　　‘Yes,’ said Newman.

　　‘Kenwigses have got a boy, haven’t they?’ inquired thecollector.

　　Again Newman said ‘Yes.’

　　‘Is it a nice boy?’ demanded the collector.

　　‘It ain’t a very nasty one,’ returned Newman, ratherembarrassed by the question.

　　‘Susan Kenwigs used to say,’ observed the collector, ‘that if evershe had another boy, she hoped it might be like me. Is this one likeme, Mr Noggs?’

　　This was a puzzling inquiry; but Newman evaded it, by replyingto Mr Lillyvick, that he thought the baby might possibly come likehim in time.

　　‘I should be glad to have somebody like me, somehow,’ said MrLillyvick, ‘before I die.’

　　‘You don’t mean to do that, yet awhile?’ said Newman.

　　 Unto which Mr Lillyvick replied in a solemn voice, ‘Let me beshaved!’ and again consigning himself to the hands of thejourneyman, said no more.

　　This was remarkable behaviour. So remarkable did it seem toMiss Morleena, that that young lady, at the imminent hazard ofhaving her ear sliced off, had not been able to forbear lookinground, some score of times, during the foregoing colloquy. Of her,however, Mr Lillyvick took no notice: rather striving (so, at least, itseemed to Newman Noggs) to evade her observation, and toshrink into himself whenever he attracted her regards. Newmanwondered very much what could have occasioned this alteredbehaviour on the part of the collector; but, philosophicallyreflecting that he would most likely know, sooner or later, and thathe could perfectly afford to wait, he was very little disturbed bythe singularity of the old gentleman’s deportment.

　　The cutting and curling being at last concluded, the oldgentleman, who had been some time waiting, rose to go, and,walking out with Newman and his charge, took Newman’s arm,and proceeded for some time without making any observation.

　　Newman, who in power of taciturnity was excelled by few people,made no attempt to break silence; and so they went on, until theyhad very nearly reached Miss Morleena’s home, when Mr Lillyvicksaid:

　　‘Were the Kenwigses very much overpowered, Mr Noggs, bythat news?’

　　‘What news?’ returned Newman.

　　‘That about—my—being—’

　　‘Married?’ suggested Newman.

　　‘Ah!’ replied Mr Lillyvick, with another groan; this time not even disguised by a wheeze.

　　‘It made ma cry when she knew it,’ interposed Miss Morleena,‘but we kept it from her for a long time; and pa was very low in hisspirits, but he is better now; and I was very ill, but I am better too.’

　　‘Would you give your great-uncle Lillyvick a kiss if he was toask you, Morleena?’ said the collector, with some hesitation.

　　‘Yes; uncle Lillyvick, I would,’ returned Miss Morleena, with theenergy of both her parents combined; ‘but not aunt Lillyvick.

　　She’s not an aunt of mine, and I’ll never call her one.’

　　Immediately upon the utterance of these words, Mr Lillyvickcaught Miss Morleena up in his arms, and kissed her; and, beingby this time at the door of the house where Mr Kenwigs lodged(which, as has been before mentioned, usually stood wide open),he walked straight up into Mr Kenwigs’s sitting-room, and putMiss Morleena down in the midst. Mr and Mrs Kenwigs were atsupper. At sight of their perjured relative, Mrs Kenwigs turnedfaint and pale, and Mr Kenwigs rose majestically.

　　‘Kenwigs,’ said the collector, ‘shake hands.’

　　‘Sir,’ said Mr Kenwigs, ‘the time has been, when I was proud toshake hands with such a man as that man as now surweys me. Thetime has been, sir,’ said Mr Kenwigs, ‘when a wisit from that manhas excited in me and my family’s boozums sensations bothnateral and awakening. But, now, I look upon that man withemotions totally surpassing everythink, and I ask myself where ishis Honour, where is his straight-for’ardness, and where is hishuman natur?’

　　‘Susan Kenwigs,’ said Mr Lillyvick, turning humbly to his niece,‘don’t you say anything to me?’

　　‘She is not equal to it, sir,’ said Mr Kenwigs, striking the table emphatically. ‘What with the nursing of a healthy babby, and thereflections upon your cruel conduct, four pints of malt liquor a dayis hardly able to sustain her.’

　　‘I am glad,’ said the poor collector meekly, ‘that the baby is ahealthy one. I am very glad of that.’

　　This was touching the Kenwigses on their tenderest point. MrsKenwigs instantly burst into tears, and Mr Kenwigs evinced greatemotion.

　　‘My pleasantest feeling, all the time that child was expected,’

　　said Mr Kenwigs, mournfully, ‘was a thinking, “If it’s a boy, as Ihope it may be; for I have heard its uncle Lillyvick say again andagain he would prefer our having a boy next, if it’s a boy, what willhis uncle Lillyvick say? What will he like him to be called? Will hebe Peter, or Alexander, or Pompey, or Diorgeenes, or what will hebe?” And now when I look at him; a precious, unconscious,helpless infant, with no use in his little arms but to tear his littlecap, and no use in his little legs but to kick his little self—when Isee him a lying on his mother’s lap, cooing and cooing, and, in hisinnocent state, almost a choking hisself with his little fist—when Isee him such a infant as he is, and think that that uncle Lillyvick,as was once a-going to be so fond of him, has withdrawed himselfaway, such a feeling of wengeance comes over me as no languagecan depicter, and I feel as if even that holy babe was a telling me tohate him.’

　　This affecting picture moved Mrs Kenwigs deeply. After severalimperfect words, which vainly attempted to struggle to thesurface, but were drowned and washed away by the strong tide ofher tears, she spake.

　　‘Uncle,’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘to think that you should have turned your back upon me and my dear children, and uponKenwigs which is the author of their being—you who was once sokind and affectionate, and who, if anybody had told us such athing of, we should have withered with scorn like lightning—youthat little Lillyvick, our first and earliest boy, was named after atthe very altar! Oh gracious!’

　　‘Was it money that we cared for?’ said Mr Kenwigs. ‘Was itproperty that we ever thought of?’

　　‘No,’ cried Mrs Kenwigs, ‘I scorn it.’

　　‘So do I,’ said Mr Kenwigs, ‘and always did.’

　　‘My feelings have been lancerated,’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘myheart has been torn asunder with anguish, I have been thrownback in my confinement, my unoffending infant has beenrendered uncomfortable and fractious, Morleena has pined herselfaway to nothing; all this I forget and forgive, and with you, uncle, Inever can quarrel. But never ask me to receive her, never do it,uncle. For I will not, I will not, I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!’

　　‘Susan, my dear,’ said Mr Kenwigs, ‘consider your child.’

　　‘Yes,’ shrieked Mrs Kenwigs, ‘I will consider my child! I willconsider my child! My own child, that no uncles can deprive me of;my own hated, despised, deserted, cut-off little child.’ And, here,the emotions of Mrs Kenwigs became so violent, that Mr Kenwigswas fain to administer hartshorn internally, and vinegarexternally, and to destroy a staylace, four petticoat strings, andseveral small buttons.

　　Newman had been a silent spectator of this scene; for MrLillyvick had signed to him not to withdraw, and Mr Kenwigs hadfurther solicited his presence by a nod of invitation. When MrsKenwigs had been, in some degree, restored, and Newman, as a person possessed of some influence with her, had remonstratedand begged her to compose herself, Mr Lillyvick said in a falteringvoice:

　　‘I never shall ask anybody here to receive my—I needn’tmention the word; you know what I mean. Kenwigs and Susan,yesterday was a week she eloped with a half-pay captain!’

　　Mr and Mrs Kenwigs started together.

　　‘Eloped with a half-pay captain,’ repeated Mr Lillyvick, ‘baselyand falsely eloped with a half-pay captain. With a bottle-nosedcaptain that any man might have considered himself safe from. Itwas in this room,’ said Mr Lillyvick, looking sternly round, ‘that Ifirst see Henrietta Petowker. It is in this room that I turn her off,for ever.’

　　This declaration completely changed the whole posture ofaffairs. Mrs Kenwigs threw herself upon the old gentleman’s neck,bitterly reproaching herself for her late harshness, and exclaiming,if she had suffered, what must his sufferings have been! MrKenwigs grasped his hand, and vowed eternal friendship andremorse. Mrs Kenwigs was horror-stricken to think that sheshould ever have nourished in her bosom such a snake, adder,viper, serpent, and base crocodile as Henrietta Petowker. MrKenwigs argued that she must have been bad indeed not to haveimproved by so long a contemplation of Mrs Kenwigs’s virtue. MrsKenwigs remembered that Mr Kenwigs had often said that he wasnot quite satisfied of the propriety of Miss Petowker’s conduct,and wondered how it was that she could have been blinded bysuch a wretch. Mr Kenwigs remembered that he had had hissuspicions, but did not wonder why Mrs Kenwigs had not hadhers, as she was all chastity, purity, and truth, and Henrietta all baseness, falsehood, and deceit. And Mr and Mrs Kenwigs bothsaid, with strong feelings and tears of sympathy, that everythinghappened for the best; and conjured the good collector not to giveway to unavailing grief, but to seek consolation in the society ofthose affectionate relations whose arms and hearts were ever opento him.

　　‘Out of affection and regard for you, Susan and Kenwigs,’ saidMr Lillyvick, ‘and not out of revenge and spite against her, for sheis below it, I shall, tomorrow morning, settle upon your children,and make payable to the survivors of them when they come of ageof marry, that money that I once meant to leave ’em in my will.

　　The deed shall be executed tomorrow, and Mr Noggs shall be oneof the witnesses. He hears me promise this, and he shall see itdone.’

　　Overpowered by this noble and generous offer, Mr Kenwigs,Mrs Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena Kenwigs, all began to sobtogether; and the noise of their sobbing, communicating itself tothe next room, where the children lay a-bed, and causing them tocry too, Mr Kenwigs rushed wildly in, and bringing them out in hisarms, by two and two, tumbled them down in their nightcaps andgowns at the feet of Mr Lillyvick, and called upon them to thankand bless him.

　　‘And now,’ said Mr Lillyvick, when a heart-rending scene hadensued and the children were cleared away again, ‘give me somesupper. This took place twenty mile from town. I came up thismorning, and have being lingering about all day, without beingable to make up my mind to come and see you. I humoured her ineverything, she had her own way, she did just as she pleased, andnow she has done this. There was twelve teaspoons and twenty- four pound in sovereigns—I missed them first—it’s a trial—I feel Ishall never be able to knock a double knock again, when I go myrounds—don’t say anything more about it, please—the spoonswere worth—never mind—never mind!’

　　With such muttered outpourings as these, the old gentlemanshed a few tears; but, they got him into the elbow-chair, andprevailed upon him, without much pressing, to make a heartysupper, and by the time he had finished his first pipe, anddisposed of half-a-dozen glasses out of a crown bowl of punch,ordered by Mr Kenwigs, in celebration of his return to the bosomof his family, he seemed, though still very humble, quite resignedto his fate, and rather relieved than otherwise by the flight of hiswife.

　　‘When I see that man,’ said Mr Kenwigs, with one hand roundMrs Kenwigs’s waist: his other hand supporting his pipe (whichmade him wink and cough very much, for he was no smoker): andhis eyes on Morleena, who sat upon her uncle’s knee, ‘when I seethat man as mingling, once again, in the spear which he adorns,and see his affections deweloping themselves in legitimatesitiwations, I feel that his nature is as elewated and expanded, ashis standing afore society as a public character is unimpeached,and the woices of my infant children purvided for in life, seem towhisper to me softly, “This is an ewent at which Evins itself looksdown!”’