Chapter 54

The Crisis of the Project and its Result.

　　There are not many men who lie abed too late, or oversleepthemselves, on their wedding morning. A legend there isof somebody remarkable for absence of mind, who openedhis eyes upon the day which was to give him a young wife, andforgetting all about the matter, rated his servants for providinghim with such fine clothes as had been prepared for the festival.

　　There is also a legend of a young gentleman, who, not havingbefore his eyes the fear of the canons of the church for such casesmade and provided, conceived a passion for his grandmother.

　　Both cases are of a singular and special kind and it is verydoubtful whether either can be considered as a precedent likely tobe extensively followed by succeeding generations.

　　Arthur Gride had enrobed himself in his marriage garments ofbottle-green, a full hour before Mrs Sliderskew, shaking off hermore heavy slumbers, knocked at his chamber door; and he hadhobbled downstairs in full array and smacked his lips over ascanty taste of his favourite cordial, ere that delicate piece ofantiquity enlightened the kitchen with her presence.

　　‘Faugh!’ said Peg, grubbing, in the discharge of her domesticfunctions, among a scanty heap of ashes in the rusty grate.

　　‘Wedding indeed! A precious wedding! He wants somebody betterthan his old Peg to take care of him, does he? And what has hesaid to me, many and many a time, to keep me content with shortfood, small wages, and little fire? “My will, Peg! my will!” says he:

　　 “I’m a bachelor—no friends—no relations, Peg.” Lies! And nowhe’s to bring home a new mistress, a baby-faced chit of a girl! If hewanted a wife, the fool, why couldn’t he have one suitable to hisage, and that knew his ways? She won’t come in my way, he says.

　　No, that she won’t, but you little think why, Arthur boy!’

　　While Mrs Sliderskew, influenced possibly by some lingeringfeelings of disappointment and personal slight, occasioned by herold master’s preference for another, was giving loose to thesegrumblings below stairs, Arthur Gride was cogitating in theparlour upon what had taken place last night.

　　‘I can’t think how he can have picked up what he knows,’ saidArthur, ‘unless I have committed myself—let something drop atBray’s, for instance—which has been overheard. Perhaps I may. Ishouldn’t be surprised if that was it. Mr Nickleby was often angryat my talking to him before we got outside the door. I mustn’t tellhim that part of the business, or he’ll put me out of sorts, andmake me nervous for the day.’

　　Ralph was universally looked up to, and recognised among hisfellows as a superior genius, but upon Arthur Gride his sternunyielding character and consummate art had made so deep animpression, that he was actually afraid of him. Cringing andcowardly to the core by nature, Arthur Gride humbled himself inthe dust before Ralph Nickleby, and, even when they had not thisstake in common, would have licked his shoes and crawled uponthe ground before him rather than venture to return him word forword, or retort upon him in any other spirit than one of the mostslavish and abject sycophancy.

　　To Ralph Nickleby’s, Arthur Gride now betook himselfaccording to appointment; and to Ralph Nickleby he related how, last night, some young blustering blade, whom he had never seen,forced his way into his house, and tried to frighten him from theproposed nuptials. Told, in short, what Nicholas had said anddone, with the slight reservation upon which he had determined.

　　‘Well, and what then?’ said Ralph.

　　‘Oh! nothing more,’ rejoined Gride.

　　‘He tried to frighten you,’ said Ralph, ‘and you were frightened Isuppose; is that it?’

　　‘I frightened him by crying thieves and murder,’ replied Gride.

　　‘Once I was in earnest, I tell you that, for I had more than half amind to swear he uttered threats, and demanded my life or mymoney.’

　　‘Oho!’ said Ralph, eyeing him askew. ‘Jealous too!’

　　‘Dear now, see that!’ cried Arthur, rubbing his hands andaffecting to laugh.

　　‘Why do you make those grimaces, man?’ said Ralph; ‘you arejealous—and with good cause I think.’

　　‘No, no, no; not with good cause, hey? You don’t think withgood cause, do you?’ cried Arthur, faltering. ‘Do you though, hey?’

　　‘Why, how stands the fact?’ returned Ralph. ‘Here is an old manabout to be forced in marriage upon a girl; and to this old manthere comes a handsome young fellow—you said he washandsome, didn’t you?’

　　‘No!’ snarled Arthur Gride.

　　‘Oh!’ rejoined Ralph, ‘I thought you did. Well! Handsome or nothandsome, to this old man there comes a young fellow who castsall manner of fierce defiances in his teeth—gums I should rathersay—and tells him in plain terms that his mistress hates him. Whatdoes he do that for? Philanthropy’s sake?’

　　 ‘Not for love of the lady,’ replied Gride, ‘for he said that no wordof love—his very words—had ever passed between ’em.’

　　‘He said!’ repeated Ralph, contemptuously. ‘But I like him forone thing, and that is, his giving you this fair warning to keepyour—what is it?—Tit-tit or dainty chick—which?—under lockand key. Be careful, Gride, be careful. It’s a triumph, too, to tearher away from a gallant young rival: a great triumph for an oldman! It only remains to keep her safe when you have her—that’sall.’

　　‘What a man it is!’ cried Arthur Gride, affecting, in theextremity of his torture, to be highly amused. And then he added,anxiously, ‘Yes; to keep her safe, that’s all. And that isn’t much, isit?’

　　‘Much!’ said Ralph, with a sneer. ‘Why, everybody knows whateasy things to understand and to control, women are. But come,it’s very nearly time for you to be made happy. You’ll pay the bondnow, I suppose, to save us trouble afterwards.’

　　‘Oh what a man you are!’ croaked Arthur.

　　‘Why not?’ said Ralph. ‘Nobody will pay you interest for themoney, I suppose, between this and twelve o’clock; will they?’

　　‘But nobody would pay you interest for it either, you know,’

　　returned Arthur, leering at Ralph with all the cunning and slynesshe could throw into his face.

　　‘Besides which,’ said Ralph, suffering his lip to curl into a smile,‘you haven’t the money about you, and you weren’t prepared forthis, or you’d have brought it with you; and there’s nobody you’dso much like to accommodate as me. I see. We trust each other inabout an equal degree. Are you ready?’

　　Gride, who had done nothing but grin, and nod, and chatter,  1000during this last speech of Ralph’s, answered in the affirmative;and, producing from his hat a couple of large white favours,pinned one on his breast, and with considerable difficulty inducedhis friend to do the like. Thus accoutred, they got into a hiredcoach which Ralph had in waiting, and drove to the residence ofthe fair and most wretched bride.

　　Gride, whose spirits and courage had gradually failed him moreand more as they approached nearer and nearer to the house, wasutterly dismayed and cowed by the mournful silence whichpervaded it. The face of the poor servant girl, the only person theysaw, was disfigured with tears and want of sleep. There wasnobody to receive or welcome them; and they stole upstairs intothe usual sitting-room, more like two burglars than thebridegroom and his friend.

　　‘One would think,’ said Ralph, speaking, in spite of himself, in alow and subdued voice, ‘that there was a funeral going on here,and not a wedding.’

　　‘He, he!’ tittered his friend, ‘you are so—so very funny!’

　　‘I need be,’ remarked Ralph, drily, ‘for this is rather dull andchilling. Look a little brisker, man, and not so hangdog like!’

　　‘Yes, yes, I will,’ said Gride. ‘But—but—you don’t think she’scoming just yet, do you?’

　　‘Why, I suppose she’ll not come till she is obliged,’ returnedRalph, looking at his watch, ‘and she has a good half-hour to spareyet. Curb your impatience.’

　　‘I—I—am not impatient,’ stammered Arthur. ‘I wouldn’t behard with her for the world. Oh dear, dear, not on any account. Lether take her time—her own time. Her time shall be ours by allmeans.’

　　  1001While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look, whichshowed that he perfectly understood the reason of this greatconsideration and regard, a footstep was heard upon the stairs,and Bray himself came into the room on tiptoe, and holding up hishand with a cautious gesture, as if there were some sick personnear, who must not be disturbed.

　　‘Hush!’ he said, in a low voice. ‘She was very ill last night. Ithought she would have broken her heart. She is dressed, andcrying bitterly in her own room; but she’s better, and quite quiet.

　　That’s everything!’

　　‘She is ready, is she?’ said Ralph.

　　‘Quite ready,’ returned the father.

　　‘And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses—fainting, or so forth?’ said Ralph.

　　‘She may be safely trusted now,’ returned Bray. ‘I have beentalking to her this morning. Here! Come a little this way.’ He drewRalph Nickleby to the further end of the room, and pointedtowards Gride, who sat huddled together in a corner, fumblingnervously with the buttons of his coat, and exhibiting a face, ofwhich every skulking and base expression was sharpened andaggravated to the utmost by his anxiety and trepidation.

　　‘Look at that man,’ whispered Bray, emphatically. ‘This seems acruel thing, after all.’

　　‘What seems a cruel thing?’ inquired Ralph, with as muchstolidity of face, as if he really were in utter ignorance of theother’s meaning.

　　‘This marriage,’ answered Bray. ‘Don’t ask me what. You knowas well as I do.’

　　Ralph shrugged his shoulders, in silent deprecation of Bray’s  1002impatience, and elevated his eyebrows, and pursed his lips, asmen do when they are prepared with a sufficient answer to someremark, but wait for a more favourable opportunity of advancingit, or think it scarcely worth while to answer their adversary at all.

　　‘Look at him. Does it not seem cruel?’ said Bray.

　　‘No!’ replied Ralph, boldly.

　　‘I say it does,’ retorted Bray, with a show of much irritation. ‘Itis a cruel thing, by all that’s bad and treacherous!’

　　When men are about to commit, or to sanction the commissionof some injustice, it is not uncommon for them to express pity forthe object either of that or some parallel proceeding, and to feelthemselves, at the time, quite virtuous and moral, and immenselysuperior to those who express no pity at all. This is a kind ofupholding of faith above works, and is very comfortable. To doRalph Nickleby justice, he seldom practised this sort ofdissimulation; but he understood those who did, and thereforesuffered Bray to say, again and again, with great vehemence, thatthey were jointly doing a very cruel thing, before he again offeredto interpose a word.

　　‘You see what a dry, shrivelled, withered old chip it is,’ returnedRalph, when the other was at length silent. ‘If he were younger, itmight be cruel, but as it is—harkee, Mr Bray, he’ll die soon, andleave her a rich young widow! Miss Madeline consults your tastesthis time; let her consult her own next.’

　　‘True, true,’ said Bray, biting his nails, and plainly very ill atease. ‘I couldn’t do anything better for her than advise her toaccept these proposals, could I? Now, I ask you, Nickleby, as aman of the world; could I?’

　　‘Surely not,’ answered Ralph. ‘I tell you what, sir; there are a  1003hundred fathers, within a circuit of five miles from this place; welloff; good, rich, substantial men; who would gladly give theirdaughters, and their own ears with them, to that very man yonder,ape and mummy as he looks.’

　　‘So there are!’ exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at anythingwhich seemed a justification of himself. ‘And so I told her, bothlast night and today.’

　　‘You told her truth,’ said Ralph, ‘and did well to do so; though Imust say, at the same time, that if I had a daughter, and myfreedom, pleasure, nay, my very health and life, depended on hertaking a husband whom I pointed out, I should hope it would notbe necessary to advance any other arguments to induce her toconsent to my wishes.’

　　Bray looked at Ralph as if to see whether he spoke in earnest,and having nodded twice or thrice in unqualified assent to whathad fallen from him, said:

　　‘I must go upstairs for a few minutes, to finish dressing. When Icome down, I’ll bring Madeline with me. Do you know, I had avery strange dream last night, which I have not remembered tillthis instant. I dreamt that it was this morning, and you and I hadbeen talking as we have been this minute; that I went upstairs, forthe very purpose for which I am going now; and that as I stretchedout my hand to take Madeline’s, and lead her down, the floor sunkwith me, and after falling from such an indescribable andtremendous height as the imagination scarcely conceives, exceptin dreams, I alighted in a grave.’

　　‘And you awoke, and found you were lying on your back, orwith your head hanging over the bedside, or suffering some painfrom indigestion?’ said Ralph. ‘Pshaw, Mr Bray! Do as I do (you  1004will have the opportunity, now that a constant round of pleasureand enjoyment opens upon you), and, occupying yourself a littlemore by day, have no time to think of what you dream by night.’

　　Ralph followed him, with a steady look, to the door; and,turning to the bridegroom, when they were again alone, said,‘Mark my words, Gride, you won’t have to pay his annuity verylong. You have the devil’s luck in bargains, always. If he is notbooked to make the long voyage before many months are past andgone, I wear an orange for a head!’

　　To this prophecy, so agreeable to his ears, Arthur returned noanswer than a cackle of great delight. Ralph, throwing himself intoa chair, they both sat waiting in profound silence. Ralph wasthinking, with a sneer upon his lips, on the altered manner of Braythat day, and how soon their fellowship in a bad design hadlowered his pride and established a familiarity between them,when his attentive ear caught the rustling of a female dress uponthe stairs, and the footstep of a man.

　　‘Wake up,’ he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon theground, ‘and be something like life, man, will you? They are here.

　　Urge those dry old bones of yours this way. Quick, man, quick!’

　　Gride shambled forward, and stood, leering and bowing, closeby Ralph’s side, when the door opened and there entered inhaste—not Bray and his daughter, but Nicholas and his sisterKate.

　　If some tremendous apparition from the world of shadows hadsuddenly presented itself before him, Ralph Nickleby could nothave been more thunder-stricken than he was by this surprise. Hishands fell powerless by his side, he reeled back; and with openmouth, and a face of ashy paleness, stood gazing at them in  1005speechless rage: his eyes so prominent, and his face so convulsedand changed by the passions which raged within him, that itwould have been difficult to recognise in him the same stern,composed, hard-featured man he had been not a minute ago.

　　‘The man that came to me last night,’ whispered Gride,plucking at his elbow. ‘The man that came to me last night!’

　　‘I see,’ muttered Ralph, ‘I know! I might have guessed as muchbefore. Across my every path, at every turn, go where I will, dowhat I may, he comes!’

　　The absence of all colour from the face; the dilated nostril; thequivering of the lips which, though set firmly against each other,would not be still; showed what emotions were struggling for themastery with Nicholas. But he kept them down, and gentlypressing Kate’s arm to reassure her, stood erect and undaunted,front to front with his unworthy relative.

　　As the brother and sister stood side by side, with a gallantbearing which became them well, a close likeness between themwas apparent, which many, had they only seen them apart, mighthave failed to remark. The air, carriage, and very look andexpression of the brother were all reflected in the sister, butsoftened and refined to the nicest limit of feminine delicacy andattraction. More striking still was some indefinable resemblance,in the face of Ralph, to both. While they had never looked morehandsome, nor he more ugly; while they had never heldthemselves more proudly, nor he shrunk half so low; there neverhad been a time when this resemblance was so perceptible, orwhen all the worst characteristics of a face rendered coarse andharsh by evil thoughts were half so manifest as now.

　　‘Away!’ was the first word he could utter as he literally gnashed  1006his teeth. ‘Away! What brings you here? Liar, scoundrel, dastard,thief!’

　　‘I come here,’ said Nicholas in a low deep voice, ‘to save yourvictim if I can. Liar and scoundrel you are, in every action of yourlife; theft is your trade; and double dastard you must be, or youwere not here today. Hard words will not move me, nor wouldhard blows. Here I stand, and will, till I have done my errand.’

　　‘Girl!’ said Ralph, ‘retire! We can use force to him, but I wouldnot hurt you if I could help it. Retire, you weak and silly wench,and leave this dog to be dealt with as he deserves.’

　　‘I will not retire,’ cried Kate, with flashing eyes and the redblood mantling in her cheeks. ‘You will do him no hurt that he willnot repay. You may use force with me; I think you will, for I am agirl, and that would well become you. But if I have a girl’sweakness, I have a woman’s heart, and it is not you who in a causelike this can turn that from its purpose.’

　　‘And what may your purpose be, most lofty lady?’ said Ralph.

　　‘To offer to the unhappy subject of your treachery, at this lastmoment,’ replied Nicholas, ‘a refuge and a home. If the nearprospect of such a husband as you have provided will not prevailupon her, I hope she may be moved by the prayers and entreatiesof one of her own sex. At all events they shall be tried. I myself,avowing to her father from whom I come and by whom I amcommissioned, will render it an act of greater baseness, meanness,and cruelty in him if he still dares to force this marriage on. Here Iwait to see him and his daughter. For this I came and brought mysister even into your presence. Our purpose is not to see or speakwith you; therefore to you we stoop to say no more.’

　　‘Indeed!’ said Ralph. ‘You persist in remaining here, ma’am, do  1007you?’

　　His niece’s bosom heaved with the indignant excitement intowhich he had lashed her, but she gave him no reply.

　　‘Now, Gride, see here,’ said Ralph. ‘This fellow—I grieve to saymy brother’s son: a reprobate and profligate, stained with everymean and selfish crime—this fellow, coming here today to disturba solemn ceremony, and knowing that the consequence of hispresenting himself in another man’s house at such a time, andpersisting in remaining there, must be his being kicked into thestreets and dragged through them like the vagabond he is—thisfellow, mark you, brings with him his sister as a protection,thinking we would not expose a silly girl to the degradation andindignity which is no novelty to him; and, even after I have warnedher of what must ensue, he still keeps her by him, as you see, andclings to her apron-strings like a cowardly boy to his mother’s. Isnot this a pretty fellow to talk as big as you have heard him now?’

　　‘And as I heard him last night,’ said Arthur Gride; ‘as I heardhim last night when he sneaked into my house, and—he! he! he!—very soon sneaked out again, when I nearly frightened him todeath. And he wanting to marry Miss Madeline too! Oh dear! Isthere anything else he’d like? Anything else we can do for him,besides giving her up? Would he like his debts paid and his housefurnished, and a few bank notes for shaving paper if he shaves atall? He! he! he!’

　　‘You will remain, girl, will you?’ said Ralph, turning upon Kateagain, ‘to be hauled downstairs like a drunken drab, as I swear youshall if you stop here? No answer! Thank your brother for whatfollows. Gride, call down Bray—and not his daughter. Let themkeep her above.’

　　  1008‘If you value your head,’ said Nicholas, taking up a positionbefore the door, and speaking in the same low voice in which hehad spoken before, and with no more outward passion than he hadbefore displayed; ‘stay where you are!’

　　‘Mind me, and not him, and call down Bray,’ said Ralph.

　　‘Mind yourself rather than either of us, and stay where you are!’

　　said Nicholas.

　　‘Will you call down Bray?’ cried Ralph.

　　‘Remember that you come near me at your peril,’ said Nicholas.

　　Gride hesitated. Ralph being, by this time, as furious as abaffled tiger, made for the door, and, attempting to pass Kate,clasped her arm roughly with his hand. Nicholas, with his eyesdarting fire, seized him by the collar. At that moment, a heavybody fell with great violence on the floor above, and, in an instantafterwards, was heard a most appalling and terrific scream.

　　They all stood still, and gazed upon each other. Screamsucceeded scream; a heavy pattering of feet succeeded; and manyshrill voices clamouring together were heard to cry, ‘He is dead!’

　　‘Stand off!’ cried Nicholas, letting loose all the passion he hadrestrained till now; ‘if this is what I scarcely dare to hope it is, youare caught, villains, in your own toils.’

　　He burst from the room, and, darting upstairs to the quarterfrom whence the noise proceeded, forced his way through a crowdof persons who quite filled a small bed-chamber, and found Braylying on the floor quite dead; his daughter clinging to the body.

　　‘How did this happen?’ he cried, looking wildly about him.

　　Several voices answered together, that he had been observed,through the half-opened door, reclining in a strange and uneasyposition upon a chair; that he had been spoken to several times,  1009and not answering, was supposed to be asleep, until some persongoing in and shaking him by the arm, he fell heavily to the groundand was discovered to be dead.

　　‘Who is the owner of this house?’ said Nicholas, hastily.

　　An elderly woman was pointed out to him; and to her he said,as he knelt down and gently unwound Madeline’s arms from thelifeless mass round which they were entwined: ‘I represent thislady’s nearest friends, as her servant here knows, and mustremove her from this dreadful scene. This is my sister to whosecharge you confide her. My name and address are upon that card,and you shall receive from me all necessary directions for thearrangements that must be made. Stand aside, every one of you,and give me room and air for God’s sake!’

　　The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had justoccurred, than at the excitement and impetuosity of him whospoke. Nicholas, taking the insensible girl in his arms, bore herfrom the chamber and downstairs into the room he had justquitted, followed by his sister and the faithful servant, whom hecharged to procure a coach directly, while he and Kate bent overtheir beautiful charge and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore herto animation. The girl performed her office with such expedition,that in a very few minutes the coach was ready.

　　Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralysed by the awfulevent which had so suddenly overthrown their schemes (it wouldnot otherwise, perhaps, have made much impression on them),and carried away by the extraordinary energy and precipitation ofNicholas, which bore down all before him, looked on at theseproceedings like men in a dream or trance. It was not until everypreparation was made for Madeline’s immediate removal that  1010Ralph broke silence by declaring she should not be taken away.

　　‘Who says so?’ cried Nicholas, rising from his knee andconfronting them, but still retaining Madeline’s lifeless hand inhis.

　　‘I!’ answered Ralph, hoarsely.

　　‘Hush, hush!’ cried the terrified Gride, catching him by the armagain. ‘Hear what he says.’

　　‘Ay!’ said Nicholas, extending his disengaged hand in the air,‘hear what he says. That both your debts are paid in the one greatdebt of nature. That the bond, due today at twelve, is now wastepaper. That your contemplated fraud shall be discovered yet. Thatyour schemes are known to man, and overthrown by Heaven.

　　Wretches, that he defies you both to do your worst.’

　　‘This man,’ said Ralph, in a voice scarcely intelligible, ‘this manclaims his wife, and he shall have her.’

　　‘That man claims what is not his, and he should not have her ifhe were fifty men, with fifty more to back him,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘Who shall prevent him?’

　　‘I will.’

　　‘By what right I should like to know,’ said Ralph. ‘By what rightI ask?’

　　‘By this right. That, knowing what I do, you dare not tempt mefurther,’ said Nicholas, ‘and by this better right; that those I serve,and with whom you would have done me base wrong and injury,are her nearest and her dearest friends. In their name I bear herhence. Give way!’

　　‘One word!’ cried Ralph, foaming at the mouth.

　　‘Not one,’ replied Nicholas, ‘I will not hear of one—save this.

　　Look to yourself, and heed this warning that I give you! Your day  1011is past, and night is comin’ on.’

　　‘My curse, my bitter, deadly curse, upon you, boy!’

　　‘Whence will curses come at your command? Or what avails acurse or blessing from a man like you? I tell you, that misfortuneand discovery are thickening about your head; that the structuresyou have raised, through all your ill-spent life, are crumbling intodust; that your path is beset with spies; that this very day, tenthousand pounds of your hoarded wealth have gone in one greatcrash!’

　　‘‘Tis false!’ cried Ralph, shrinking back.

　　‘‘Tis true, and you shall find it so. I have no more words towaste. Stand from the door. Kate, do you go first. Lay not a handon her, or on that woman, or on me, or so much a brush theirgarments as they pass you by!—You let them pass, and he blocksthe door again!’

　　Arthur Gride happened to be in the doorway, but whetherintentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent. Nicholasswung him away, with such violence as to cause him to spin roundthe room until he was caught by a sharp angle of the wall, andthere knocked down; and then taking his beautiful burden in hisarms rushed out. No one cared to stop him, if any were sodisposed. Making his way through a mob of people, whom a reportof the circumstances had attracted round the house, and carryingMadeline, in his excitement, as easily as if she were an infant, hereached the coach in which Kate and the girl were alreadywaiting, and, confiding his charge to them, jumped up beside thecoachman and bade him drive away.