Chapter 63

The Brothers Cheeryble make various Declarationsfor themselves and others. Tim Linkinwater makesa Declaration for himself.

　　S ome weeks had passed, and the first shock of these eventshad subsided. Madeline had been removed; Frank hadbeen absent; and Nicholas and Kate had begun to try ingood earnest to stifle their own regrets, and to live for each otherand for their mother—who, poor lady, could in nowise bereconciled to this dull and altered state of affairs—when therecame one evening, per favour of Mr Linkinwater, an invitationfrom the brothers to dinner on the next day but one:

　　comprehending, not only Mrs Nickleby, Kate, and Nicholas, butlittle Miss La Creevy, who was most particularly mentioned.

　　‘Now, my dears,’ said Mrs Nickleby, when they had renderedbecoming honour to the bidding, and Tim had taken hisdeparture, ‘what does this mean?’

　　‘What do you mean, mother?’ asked Nicholas, smiling.

　　‘I say, my dear,’ rejoined that lady, with a face of unfathomablemystery, ‘what does this invitation to dinner mean? What is itsintention and object?’

　　‘I conclude it means, that on such a day we are to eat and drinkin their house, and that its intent and object is to confer pleasureupon us,’ said Nicholas.

　　‘And that’s all you conclude it is, my dear?’

　　‘I have not yet arrived at anything deeper, mother.’

　　  1132‘Then I’ll just tell you one thing,’ said Mrs Nickleby, you’ll findyourself a little surprised; that’s all. You may depend upon it thatthis means something besides dinner.’

　　‘Tea and supper, perhaps,’ suggested Nicholas.

　　‘I wouldn’t be absurd, my dear, if I were you,’ replied MrsNickleby, in a lofty manner, ‘because it’s not by any meansbecoming, and doesn’t suit you at all. What I mean to say is, thatthe Mr Cheerybles don’t ask us to dinner with all this ceremonyfor nothing. Never mind; wait and see. You won’t believe anythingI say, of course. It’s much better to wait; a great deal better; it’ssatisfactory to all parties, and there can be no disputing. All I sayis, remember what I say now, and when I say I said so, don’t say Ididn’t.’

　　With this stipulation, Mrs Nickleby, who was troubled, nightand day, with a vision of a hot messenger tearing up to the door toannounce that Nicholas had been taken into partnership, quittedthat branch of the subject, and entered upon a new one.

　　‘It’s a very extraordinary thing,’ she said, ‘a most extraordinarything, that they should have invited Miss La Creevy. It quiteastonishes me, upon my word it does. Of course it’s very pleasantthat she should be invited, very pleasant, and I have no doubt thatshe’ll conduct herself extremely well; she always does. It’s verygratifying to think that we should have been the means ofintroducing her into such society, and I’m quite glad of it—quiterejoiced—for she certainly is an exceedingly well-behaved andgood-natured little person. I could wish that some friend wouldmention to her how very badly she has her cap trimmed, and whatvery preposterous bows those are, but of course that’s impossible,and if she likes to make a fright of herself, no doubt she has a  1133perfect right to do so. We never see ourselves—never do, andnever did—and I suppose we never shall.’

　　This moral reflection reminding her of the necessity of beingpeculiarly smart on the occasion, so as to counterbalance Miss LaCreevy, and be herself an effectual set-off and atonement, led MrsNickleby into a consultation with her daughter relative to certainribbons, gloves, and trimmings: which, being a complicatedquestion, and one of paramount importance, soon routed theprevious one, and put it to flight.

　　The great day arriving, the good lady put herself under Kate’shands an hour or so after breakfast, and, dressing by easy stages,completed her toilette in sufficient time to allow of her daughter’smaking hers, which was very simple, and not very long, though sosatisfactory that she had never appeared more charming or lookedmore lovely. Miss La Creevy, too, arrived with two bandboxes(whereof the bottoms fell out as they were handed from the coach)and something in a newspaper, which a gentleman had sat upon,coming down, and which was obliged to be ironed again, before itwas fit for service. At last, everybody was dressed, includingNicholas, who had come home to fetch them, and they went awayin a coach sent by the brothers for the purpose: Mrs Nicklebywondering very much what they would have for dinner, and cross-examining Nicholas as to the extent of his discoveries in themorning; whether he had smelt anything cooking at all like turtle,and if not, what he had smelt; and diversifying the conversationwith reminiscences of dinners to which she had gone some twentyyears ago, concerning which she particularised not only the dishesbut the guests, in whom her hearers did not feel a very absorbinginterest, as not one of them had ever chanced to hear their names  1134before.

　　The old butler received them with profound respect and manysmiles, and ushered them into the drawing-room, where they werereceived by the brothers with so much cordiality and kindnessthat Mrs Nickleby was quite in a flutter, and had scarcely presenceof mind enough, even to patronise Miss La Creevy. Kate was stillmore affected by the reception: for, knowing that the brotherswere acquainted with all that had passed between her and Frank,she felt her position a most delicate and trying one, and wastrembling on the arm of Nicholas, when Mr Charles took her inhis, and led her to another part of the room.

　　‘Have you seen Madeline, my dear,’ he said, ‘since she left yourhouse?’

　　‘No, sir!’ replied Kate. ‘Not once.’

　　‘And not heard from her, eh? Not heard from her?’

　　‘I have only had one letter,’ rejoined Kate, gently. ‘I thought shewould not have forgotten me quite so soon.’

　　‘Ah,’ said the old man, patting her on the head, and speaking asaffectionately as if she had been his favourite child. ‘Poor dear!

　　what do you think of this, brother Ned? Madeline has only writtento her once, only once, Ned, and she didn’t think she would haveforgotten her quite so soon, Ned.’

　　‘Oh! sad, sad; very sad!’ said Ned.

　　The brothers interchanged a glance, and looking at Kate for alittle time without speaking, shook hands, and nodded as if theywere congratulating each other on something very delightful.

　　‘Well, well,’ said brother Charles, ‘go into that room, my dear—that door yonder—and see if there’s not a letter for you from her. Ithink there’s one upon the table. You needn’t hurry back, my love,  1135if there is, for we don’t dine just yet, and there’s plenty of time.

　　Plenty of time.’

　　Kate retired as she was directed. Brother Charles, havingfollowed her graceful figure with his eyes, turned to Mrs Nickleby,and said:

　　‘We took the liberty of naming one hour before the real dinner-time, ma’am, because we had a little business to speak about,which would occupy the interval. Ned, my dear fellow, will youmention what we agreed upon? Mr Nickleby, sir, have thegoodness to follow me.’

　　Without any further explanation, Mrs Nickleby, Miss LaCreevy, and brother Ned, were left alone together, and Nicholasfollowed brother Charles into his private room; where, to his greatastonishment, he encountered Frank, whom he supposed to beabroad.

　　‘Young men,’ said Mr Cheeryble, ‘shake hands!’

　　‘I need no bidding to do that,’ said Nicholas, extending his.

　　‘Nor I,’ rejoined Frank, as he clasped it heartily.

　　The old gentleman thought that two handsomer or finer youngfellows could scarcely stand side by side than those on whom helooked with so much pleasure. Suffering his eyes to rest uponthem, for a short time in silence, he said, while he seated himselfat his desk:

　　‘I wish to see you friends—close and firm friends—and if Ithought you otherwise, I should hesitate in what I am about to say.

　　Frank, look here! Mr Nickleby, will you come on the other side?’

　　The young men stepped up on either hand of brother Charles,who produced a paper from his desk, and unfolded it.

　　‘This,’ he said, ‘is a copy of the will of Madeline’s maternal  1136grandfather, bequeathing her the sum of twelve thousand pounds,payable either upon her coming of age or marrying. It wouldappear that this gentleman, angry with her (his only relation)because she would not put herself under his protection, anddetach herself from the society of her father, in compliance withhis repeated overtures, made a will leaving this property (whichwas all he possessed) to a charitable institution. He would seem tohave repented this determination, however, for three weeksafterwards, and in the same month, he executed this. By somefraud, it was abstracted immediately after his decease, and theother—the only will found—was proved and administered.

　　Friendly negotiations, which have only just now terminated, havebeen proceeding since this instrument came into our hands, and,as there is no doubt of its authenticity, and the witnesses havebeen discovered (after some trouble), the money has beenrefunded. Madeline has therefore obtained her right, and is, or willbe, when either of the contingencies which I have mentioned hasarisen, mistress of this fortune. You understand me?’

　　Frank replied in the affirmative. Nicholas, who could not trusthimself to speak lest his voice should be heard to falter, bowed hishead.

　　‘Now, Frank,’ said the old gentleman, ‘you were the immediatemeans of recovering this deed. The fortune is but a small one; butwe love Madeline; and such as it is, we would rather see you alliedto her with that, than to any other girl we know who has threetimes the money. Will you become a suitor to her for her hand?’

　　‘No, sir. I interested myself in the recovery of that instrument,believing that her hand was already pledged to one who has athousand times the claims upon her gratitude, and, if I mistake  1137not, upon her heart, that I or any other man can ever urge. In thisit seems I judged hastily.’

　　‘As you always, do, sir,’ cried brother Charles, utterly forgettinghis assumed dignity, ‘as you always do. How dare you think,Frank, that we would have you marry for money, when youth,beauty, and every amiable virtue and excellence were to be hadfor love? How dared you, Frank, go and make love to MrNickleby’s sister without telling us first what you meant to do, andletting us speak for you?’

　　‘I hardly dared to hope—’

　　‘You hardly dared to hope! Then, so much the greater reasonfor having our assistance! Mr Nickleby, sir, Frank, although hejudged hastily, judged, for once, correctly. Madeline’s heart isoccupied. Give me your hand, sir; it is occupied by you, andworthily and naturally. This fortune is destined to be yours, butyou have a greater fortune in her, sir, than you would have inmoney were it forty times told. She chooses you, Mr Nickleby. Shechooses as we, her dearest friends, would have her choose. Frankchooses as we would have him choose. He should have yoursister’s little hand, sir, if she had refused it a score of times; ay, heshould, and he shall! You acted nobly, not knowing oursentiments, but now you know them, sir, you must do as you arebid. What! You are the children of a worthy gentleman! The timewas, sir, when my dear brother Ned and I were two poor simple-hearted boys, wandering, almost barefoot, to seek our fortunes:

　　are we changed in anything but years and worldly circumstancessince that time? No, God forbid! Oh, Ned, Ned, Ned, what a happyday this is for you and me! If our poor mother had only lived to seeus now, Ned, how proud it would have made her dear heart at  1138last!’

　　Thus apostrophised, brother Ned, who had entered with MrsNickleby, and who had been before unobserved by the young men,darted forward, and fairly hugged brother Charles in his arms.

　　‘Bring in my little Kate,’ said the latter, after a short silence.

　　‘Bring her in, Ned. Let me see Kate, let me kiss her. I have a rightto do so now; I was very near it when she first came; I have oftenbeen very near it. Ah! Did you find the letter, my bird? Did youfind Madeline herself, waiting for you and expecting you? Did youfind that she had not quite forgotten her friend and nurse andsweet companion? Why, this is almost the best of all!’

　　‘Come, come,’ said Ned, ‘Frank will be jealous, and we shallhave some cutting of throats before dinner.’

　　‘Then let him take her away, Ned, let him take her away.

　　Madeline’s in the next room. Let all the lovers get out of the way,and talk among themselves, if they’ve anything to say. Turn ’emout, Ned, every one!’

　　Brother Charles began the clearance by leading the blushinggirl to the door, and dismissing her with a kiss. Frank was not veryslow to follow, and Nicholas had disappeared first of all. So thereonly remained Mrs Nickleby and Miss La Creevy, who were bothsobbing heartily; the two brothers; and Tim Linkinwater, who nowcame in to shake hands with everybody: his round face all radiantand beaming with smiles.

　　‘Well, Tim Linkinwater, sir,’ said brother Charles, who wasalways spokesman, ‘now the young folks are happy, sir.’

　　‘You didn’t keep ’em in suspense as long as you said you would,though,’ returned Tim, archly. ‘Why, Mr Nickleby and Mr Frankwere to have been in your room for I don’t know how long; and I  1139don’t know what you weren’t to have told them before you cameout with the truth.’

　　‘Now, did you ever know such a villain as this, Ned?’ said theold gentleman; ‘did you ever know such a villain as TimLinkinwater? He accusing me of being impatient, and he the veryman who has been wearying us morning, noon, and night, andtorturing us for leave to go and tell ’em what was in store, beforeour plans were half complete, or we had arranged a single thing. Atreacherous dog!’

　　‘So he is, brother Charles,’ returned Ned; ‘Tim is a treacherousdog. Tim is not to be trusted. Tim is a wild young fellow. He wantsgravity and steadiness; he must sow his wild oats, and thenperhaps he’ll become in time a respectable member of society.’

　　This being one of the standing jokes between the old fellowsand Tim, they all three laughed very heartily, and might havelaughed much longer, but that the brothers, seeing that MrsNickleby was labouring to express her feelings, and was reallyoverwhelmed by the happiness of the time, took her betweenthem, and led her from the room under pretence of having toconsult her on some most important arrangements.

　　Now, Tim and Miss La Creevy had met very often, and hadalways been very chatty and pleasant together—had always beengreat friends—and consequently it was the most natural thing inthe world that Tim, finding that she still sobbed, should endeavourto console her. As Miss La Creevy sat on a large old-fashionedwindow-seat, where there was ample room for two, it was alsonatural that Tim should sit down beside her; and as to Tim’s beingunusually spruce and particular in his attire that day, why it was ahigh festival and a great occasion, and that was the most natural  1140thing of all.

　　Tim sat down beside Miss La Creevy, and, crossing one leg overthe other so that his foot—he had very comely feet and happenedto be wearing the neatest shoes and black silk stockings possible—should come easily within the range of her eye, said in a soothingway:

　　‘Don’t cry!’

　　‘I must,’ rejoined Miss La Creevy.

　　‘No, don’t,’ said Tim. ‘Please don’t; pray don’t.’

　　‘I am so happy!’ sobbed the little woman.

　　‘Then laugh,’ said Tim. ‘Do laugh.’

　　What in the world Tim was doing with his arm, it is impossibleto conjecture, but he knocked his elbow against that part of thewindow which was quite on the other side of Miss La Creevy; andit is clear that it could have no business there.

　　‘Do laugh,’ said Tim, ‘or I’ll cry.’

　　‘Why should you cry?’ asked Miss La Creevy, smiling.

　　‘Because I’m happy too,’ said Tim. ‘We are both happy, and Ishould like to do as you do.’

　　Surely, there never was a man who fidgeted as Tim must havedone then; for he knocked the window again—almost in the sameplace—and Miss La Creevy said she was sure he’d break it.

　　‘I knew,’ said Tim, ‘that you would be pleased with this scene.’

　　‘It was very thoughtful and kind to remember me,’ returnedMiss La Creevy. ‘Nothing could have delighted me half so much.’

　　Why on earth should Miss La Creevy and Tim Linkinwaterhave said all this in a whisper? It was no secret. And why shouldTim Linkinwater have looked so hard at Miss La Creevy, and whyshould Miss La Creevy have looked so hard at the ground?

　　  1141‘It’s a pleasant thing,’ said Tim, ‘to people like us, who havepassed all our lives in the world alone, to see young folks that weare fond of, brought together with so many years of happinessbefore them.’

　　‘Ah!’ cried the little woman with all her heart, ‘that it is!’

　　‘Although,’ pursued Tim ‘although it makes one feel quitesolitary and cast away. Now don’t it?’

　　Miss La Creevy said she didn’t know. And why should she sayshe didn’t know? Because she must have known whether it did ornot.

　　‘It’s almost enough to make us get married after all, isn’t it?’

　　said Tim.

　　‘Oh, nonsense!’ replied Miss La Creevy, laughing. ‘We are tooold.’

　　‘Not a bit,’ said Tim; ‘we are too old to be single. Why shouldn’twe both be married, instead of sitting through the long winterevenings by our solitary firesides? Why shouldn’t we make onefireside of it, and marry each other?’

　　‘Oh, Mr Linkinwater, you’re joking!’

　　‘No, no, I’m not. I’m not indeed,’ said Tim. ‘I will, if you will. Do,my dear!’

　　‘It would make people laugh so.’

　　‘Let ’em laugh,’ cried Tim stoutly; ‘we have good tempers Iknow, and we’ll laugh too. Why, what hearty laughs we have hadsince we’ve known each other!’

　　‘So we have,’ cried’ Miss La Creevy—giving way a little, as Timthought.

　　‘It has been the happiest time in all my life; at least, away fromthe counting-house and Cheeryble Brothers,’ said Tim. ‘Do, my  1142dear! Now say you will.’

　　‘No, no, we mustn’t think of it,’ returned Miss La Creevy. ‘Whatwould the brothers say?’

　　‘Why, God bless your soul!’ cried Tim, innocently, ‘you don’tsuppose I should think of such a thing without their knowing it!

　　Why they left us here on purpose.’

　　‘I can never look ’em in the face again!’ exclaimed Miss LaCreevy, faintly.

　　‘Come,’ said Tim, ‘let’s be a comfortable couple. We shall live inthe old house here, where I have been for four-and-forty year; weshall go to the old church, where I’ve been, every Sundaymorning, all through that time; we shall have all my old friendsabout us—Dick, the archway, the pump, the flower-pots, and MrFrank’s children, and Mr Nickleby’s children, that we shall seemlike grandfather and grandmother to. Let’s be a comfortablecouple, and take care of each other! And if we should get deaf, orlame, or blind, or bed-ridden, how glad we shall be that we havesomebody we are fond of, always to talk to and sit with! Let’s be acomfortable couple. Now, do, my dear!’

　　Five minutes after this honest and straightforward speech, littleMiss La Creevy and Tim were talking as pleasantly as if they hadbeen married for a score of years, and had never once quarrelledall the time; and five minutes after that, when Miss La Creevy hadbustled out to see if her eyes were red and put her hair to rights,Tim moved with a stately step towards the drawing-room,exclaiming as he went, ‘There an’t such another woman in allLondon! I know there an’t!’

　　By this time, the apoplectic butler was nearly in fits, inconsequence of the unheard-of postponement of dinner. Nicholas,  1143who had been engaged in a manner in which every reader mayimagine for himself or herself, was hurrying downstairs inobedience to his angry summons, when he encountered a newsurprise.

　　On his way down, he overtook, in one of the passages, astranger genteelly dressed in black, who was also moving towardsthe dining-room. As he was rather lame, and walked slowly,Nicholas lingered behind, and was following him step by step,wondering who he was, when he suddenly turned round andcaught him by both hands.

　　‘Newman Noggs!’ cried Nicholas joyfully‘Ah! Newman, your own Newman, your own old faithfulNewman! My dear boy, my dear Nick, I give you joy—health,happiness, every blessing! I can’t bear it—it’s too much, my dearboy—it makes a child of me!’

　　‘Where have you been?’ said Nicholas. ‘What have you beendoing? How often have I inquired for you, and been told that Ishould hear before long!’

　　‘I know, I know!’ returned Newman. ‘They wanted all thehappiness to come together. I’ve been helping ’em. I—I—look atme, Nick, look at me!’

　　‘You would never let me do that,’ said Nicholas in a tone ofgentle reproach.

　　‘I didn’t mind what I was, then. I shouldn’t have had the heartto put on gentleman’s clothes. They would have reminded me ofold times and made me miserable. I am another man now, Nick.

　　My dear boy, I can’t speak. Don’t say anything to me. Don’t thinkthe worse of me for these tears. You don’t know what I feel today;you can’t, and never will!’

　　  1144They walked in to dinner arm-in-arm, and sat down side byside.

　　Never was such a dinner as that, since the world began. Therewas the superannuated bank clerk, Tim Linkinwater’s friend; andthere was the chubby old lady, Tim Linkinwater’s sister; and therewas so much attention from Tim Linkinwater’s sister to Miss LaCreevy, and there were so many jokes from the superannuatedbank clerk, and Tim Linkinwater himself was in such tiptopspirits, and little Miss La Creevy was in such a comical state, thatof themselves they would have composed the pleasantest partyconceivable. Then, there was Mrs Nickleby, so grand andcomplacent; Madeline and Kate, so blushing and beautiful;Nicholas and Frank, so devoted and proud; and all four so silentlyand tremblingly happy; there was Newman so subdued yet sooverjoyed, and there were the twin brothers so delighted andinterchanging such looks, that the old servant stood transfixedbehind his master’s chair, and felt his eyes grow dim as theywandered round the table.

　　When the first novelty of the meeting had worn off, and theybegan truly to feel how happy they were, the conversation becamemore general, and the harmony and pleasure if possible increased.

　　The brothers were in a perfect ecstasy; and their insisting onsaluting the ladies all round, before they would permit them toretire, gave occasion to the superannuated bank clerk to say somany good things, that he quite outshone himself, and was lookedupon as a prodigy of humour.

　　‘Kate, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby, taking her daughter aside,as soon as they got upstairs, ‘you don’t really mean to tell me thatthis is actually true about Miss La Creevy and Mr Linkinwater?’

　　  1145‘Indeed it is, mama.’

　　‘Why, I never heard such a thing in my life!’ exclaimed MrsNickleby.

　　‘Mr Linkinwater is a most excellent creature,’ reasoned Kate,‘and, for his age, quite young still.’

　　‘For his age, my dear!’ returned Mrs Nickleby, ‘yes; nobody saysanything against him, except that I think he is the weakest andmost foolish man I ever knew. It’s her age I speak of. That heshould have gone and offered himself to a woman who must be—ah, half as old again as I am—and that she should have dared toaccept him! It don’t signify, Kate; I’m disgusted with her!’

　　Shaking her head very emphatically indeed, Mrs Nicklebyswept away; and all the evening, in the midst of the merrimentand enjoyment that ensued, and in which with that exception shefreely participated, conducted herself towards Miss La Creevy in astately and distant manner, designed to mark her sense of theimpropriety of her conduct, and to signify her extreme and cuttingdisapprobation of the misdemeanour she had so flagrantlycommitted.