Chapter 61

Wherein Nicholas and his Sister forfeit the goodOpinion of all worldly and prudent People.

　　O n the next morning after Brooker’s disclosure had beenmade, Nicholas returned home. The meeting between himand those whom he had left there was not without strongemotion on both sides; for they had been informed by his letters ofwhat had occurred: and, besides that his griefs were theirs, theymourned with him the death of one whose forlorn and helplessstate had first established a claim upon their compassion, andwhose truth of heart and grateful earnest 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 most attentivecreature that has ever been a companion to me in my life—puttingyou, my dear Nicholas, and Kate, and your poor papa, and thatwell-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 comfort thathe was so fond of making, and made so well, and so little thoughthe 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 comfort to you,my dear Nicholas, to the end of your life, to recollect how kind and  1109good you always were to him—so it will be to me, to think whatexcellent 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 arevery much cut up by this. I am sure it’s only necessary to look atyou and see how changed you are, to see that; but nobody knowswhat my feelings 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 wereto be considered, could not repress her grief; Madeline wasscarcely less moved than she; and poor, hearty, honest little MissLa Creevy, who had come upon one of her visits while Nicholaswas away, and had done nothing, since the sad news arrived, butconsole and cheer them all, no sooner beheld him coming in at thedoor, than she sat herself down upon the stairs, and bursting intoa flood of tears, refused for a long time to be comforted.

　　‘It hurts me so,’ cried the poor body, ‘to see him come backalone. 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—thisdoes seem such a poor reward for all you have done.’

　　‘Nay,’ said Nicholas gently, ‘what better reward could I have,than the knowledge that his last days were peaceful and happy,  1110and the recollection that I was his constant companion, and wasnot prevented, as I might have been by a hundred circumstances,from being 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, endeavouringto recover 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 foundKate sitting by his bedside, who, seeing that he had opened hiseyes, 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, ‘mamaand 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 real  1111feelings 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,when Nicholas 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 years mustelapse before it comes, and when it does come (if ever) I shall be sounlike what I am now, and shall have so outlived my days of youthand romance—though not, I am sure, of love for her—that even Ifeel 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!

　　Since I have been absent, I have had, in that poor fellow who isgone, perpetually before my eyes, another instance of themunificent liberality of these noble brothers. As far as in me lies, Iwill deserve it, and if I have wavered in my bounden duty to thembefore, I am now determined to discharge it rigidly, and to putfurther delays and temptations beyond my reach.’

　　‘Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,’ said Kate,turning pale, ‘you must hear what I have to tell you. I came onpurpose, but I had not the courage. What you say now, gives menew heart.’ She faltered, and burst into tears.

　　There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas forwhat was coming. 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 Mr  1112Frank, 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 beenaway,’ said Nicholas; ‘is that it? Yes. Well, well; it is not so difficult,you see, to tell me, after all. He offered you his hand?’

　　‘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 did sofirmly, 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,be my decision what it might, he would not only inform his unclesof the 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,strongly enough, how deeply I felt such disinterested love, andhow earnestly I prayed for his future happiness. If you do talktogether, I should—I should like him to know that.’

　　‘And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this sacrificeto what you knew was right and honourable, that I should shrinkfrom 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, speciallybecause they reposed unbounded confidence in me, and believed  1113that I was as true as steel. How base would it be of me to takeadvantage 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 hopeto build my fortunes on their compassion for the young creaturewhom I had so meanly and unworthily entrapped: turning hervery gratitude and warmth of heart to my own purpose andaccount, and trading in her misfortunes! I, too, whose duty, andpride, and pleasure, Kate, it is to have other claims upon me whichI will never forget; and who have the means of a comfortable andhappy life already, and have no right to look beyond it! I havedetermined to remove this weight from my mind. I doubt whetherI have not done wrong, even now; and today I will, without reserveor equivocation, disclose my real reasons to Mr Cherryble, andimplore him to take immediate measures for removing this younglady to the shelter of some other roof.’

　　‘Today? so very soon?’

　　‘I have thought of this for weeks, and why should I postpone it?

　　If the scene through which I have just passed has taught me toreflect, and has awakened me to a more anxious and careful senseof duty, why should I wait until the impression has cooled? Youwould not dissuade 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 and  1114me. 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 arequaint old folks and talk of the times when our step was lighterand our hair not grey, we may be even thankful for the trials thatso endeared us to each other, and turned our lives into thatcurrent, down which we shall have glided so peacefully andcalmly. And having caught some inkling of our story, the youngpeople about us—as young as you and I are now, Kate—may cometo us for sympathy, and pour distresses which hope andinexperience could scarcely feel enough for, into thecompassionate ears of the old bachelor brother and his maidensister.’

　　Kate smiled through her tears as Nicholas drew this picture;but they were not tears of sorrow, although they continued to fallwhen he 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 Iam that I have acted as you would have had me.’

　　‘You don’t regret?’

　　‘N-n-no,’ said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern upon theground with 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, andsometimes I—I don’t know what I say; I am but a weak girl,  1115Nicholas, and it has agitated 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,in unequal marriages, the rich party is always supposed to make agreat sacrifice, and the other to get a good bargain! But I amthinking like a lover, or like an ass: which I suppose is prettynearly the same.’

　　Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on which hewas bound, by such self-reproofs as this and many others no lesssturdy, he proceeded on his way and presented himself before TimLinkinwater.

　　‘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 atyou. Hark! there he is, d’ye hear him? That was Dick, theblackbird. He hasn’t been himself since you’ve been gone. He’d  1116never get on without you, now; he takes as naturally to you as hedoes 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’s avery 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,squeezing his hand, said, ‘I am a bad one at putting off anything Iam interested 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,‘and often 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, poor  1117fellow! His love too!’

　　Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark ofrecollection, that he was quite unequal to any more conversationat the moment. Nicholas therefore slipped quietly out, and went tobrother Charles’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 unaffectedcommiseration, of the good old man, went to his heart, and noinward struggle could prevent his showing it.

　　‘Come, come, my dear sir,’ said the benevolent merchant; ‘wemust not be cast down; no, no. We must learn to bear misfortune,and we must remember that there are many sources ofconsolation even in death. Every day that this poor lad had lived,he must have been less and less qualified for the world, and moreand more unhappy in is own deficiencies. It is better as it is, mydear 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,where is my brother Ned?’

　　‘Gone out with Mr Trimmers, about getting that unfortunateman into the hospital, and sending a nurse to his children,’ saidTim.

　　‘My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow!’ exclaimedbrother Charles as he shut the door and returned to Nicholas. ‘Hewill be overjoyed to see you, my dear sir. We have been speaking  1118of you every 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 withan anxious 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 reverencefor another: with such attachment as would make the hardestservice in his behalf a pleasure and delight: with such gratefulrecollections as must rouse the utmost zeal and fidelity of hisnature: those are the feelings which I should entertain for you, anddo, from my heart and 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 I nevershall.’

　　‘Your telling me that so kindly,’ said Nicholas, ’emboldens meto proceed. When you first took me into your confidence, anddispatched me on those missions to Miss Bray, I should have toldyou that 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 withher history. 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 the  1119necessity 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. Inever, for one moment, deserted my trust, nor have I to thisinstant. But I find that constant association and companionshipwith this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind, and may provedestructive to the resolutions I made in the beginning, and up tothis time have faithfully kept. In short, sir, I cannot trust myself,and I implore and beseech you to remove this young lady fromunder the charge of my mother and sister without delay. I knowthat to anyone but myself—to you, who consider theimmeasurable distance between me and this young lady, who isnow your ward, and the object of your peculiar care—my lovingher, even in thought, must appear the height of rashness andpresumption. I know it is so. But who can see her as I have seen,who can know what her life has been, and not love her? I have noexcuse but that; and as I cannot fly from this temptation, andcannot repress this passion, with its object constantly before me,what can I do but pray and beseech you to remove it, and to leaveme to forget her?’

　　‘Mr Nickleby,’ said the old man, after a short silence, ‘you cando no more. I was wrong to expose a young man like you to thistrial. 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 thisconfession—’

　　‘I will take care,’ said Mr Cheeryble. ‘And now, is this all youhave to tell me?’

　　  1120‘No!’ returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, ‘it is not.’

　　‘I know the rest,’ said Mr Cheeryble, apparently very muchrelieved by this prompt reply. ‘When did it come to yourknowledge?’

　　‘When I reached home this morning.’

　　‘You felt it your duty immediately to come to me, and tell mewhat your sister no doubt acquainted you with?’

　　‘I did,’ said Nicholas, ‘though I could have wished to havespoken to Mr Frank first.’

　　‘Frank was with me last night,’ replied the old gentleman. ‘Youhave done well, Mr Nickleby—very well, sir—and I thank youagain.’

　　Upon this head, Nicholas requested permission to add a fewwords. He ventured to hope that nothing he had said would lead tothe estrangement of Kate and Madeline, who had formed anattachment for each other, any interruption of which would, heknew, be attended with great pain to them, and, most of all, withremorse and pain to him, as its unhappy cause. When these thingswere all forgotten, he hoped that Frank and he might still be warmfriends, and that no word or thought of his humble home, or of herwho was well contented to remain there and share his quietfortunes, would ever again disturb the harmony between them. Herecounted, as nearly as he could, what had passed betweenhimself and Kate that morning: speaking of her with such warmthof pride and affection, and dwelling so cheerfully upon theconfidence they had of overcoming any selfish regrets and livingcontented and happy in each other’s love, that few could haveheard him unmoved. More moved himself than he had been yet,he expressed in a few hurried words—as expressive, perhaps, as  1121the most eloquent phrases—his devotion to the brothers, and hishope that he might live and die in their service.

　　To all this, brother Charles listened in profound silence, andwith his chair so turned from Nicholas that his face could not beseen. He had not spoken either, in his accustomed manner, butwith a certain stiffness and embarrassment very foreign to it.

　　Nicholas feared he had offended him. He said, ‘No, no, he haddone quite right,’ 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 mein half 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 halfan hour, and I’ll tell you more.’

　　Nicholas waited upon him at the time mentioned, and thenlearnt all that had taken place on the previous day, and all thatwas known of the appointment Ralph had made with the brothers;which was for that night; and for the better understanding ofwhich it will be requisite to return and follow his own footstepsfrom the house of the twin brothers. Therefore, we leave Nicholassomewhat reassured by the restored kindness of their mannertowards him, and yet sensible that it was different from what ithad been (though he scarcely knew in what respect): so he was fullof uneasiness, uncertainty, and disquiet.