Miss Knag, after doting on Kate Nickleby for threewhole Days, makes up her Mind to hate her forevermore. The Causes which led Miss Knag to formthis Resolution.
There are many lives of much pain, hardship, and suffering,which, having no stirring interest for any but those wholead them, are disregarded by persons who do not wantthought or feeling, but who pamper their compassion and needhigh stimulants to rouse it.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require,in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries ofpleasure in theirs; and hence it is that diseased sympathy andcompassion are every day expended on out-of-the-way objects,when only too many demands upon the legitimate exercise of thesame virtues in a healthy state, are constantly within the sight andhearing of the most unobservant person alive. In short, charitymust have its romance, as the novelist or playwright must havehis. A thief in fustian is a vulgar character, scarcely to be thoughtof by persons of refinement; but dress him in green velvet, with ahigh-crowned hat, and change the scene of his operations, from athickly-peopled city, to a mountain road, and you shall find in himthe very soul of poetry and adventure. So it is with the one greatcardinal virtue, which, properly nourished and exercised, leads to,if it does not necessarily include, all the others. It must have itsromance; and the less of real, hard, struggling work-a-day life there is in that romance, the better.
The life to which poor Kate Nickleby was devoted, inconsequence of the unforeseen train of circumstances alreadydeveloped in this narrative, was a hard one; but lest the verydulness, unhealthy confinement, and bodily fatigue, which madeup its sum and substance, should deprive it of any interest withthe mass of the charitable and sympathetic, I would rather keepMiss Nickleby herself in view just now, than chill them in theoutset, by a minute and lengthened description of theestablishment presided over by Madame Mantalini.
‘Well, now, indeed, Madame Mantalini,’ said Miss Knag, as Katewas taking her weary way homewards on the first night of hernovitiate; ‘that Miss Nickleby is a very creditable young person—avery creditable young person indeed—hem—upon my word,Madame Mantalini, it does very extraordinary credit even to yourdiscrimination that you should have found such a very excellent,very well-behaved, very—hem—very unassuming young woman toassist in the fitting on. I have seen some young women when theyhad the opportunity of displaying before their betters, behave insuch a—oh, dear—well—but you’re always right, MadameMantalini, always; and as I very often tell the young ladies, howyou do contrive to be always right, when so many people are sooften wrong, is to me a mystery indeed.’
‘Beyond putting a very excellent client out of humour, MissNickleby has not done anything very remarkable today—that I amaware of, at least,’ said Madame Mantalini in reply.
‘Oh, dear!’ said Miss Knag; ‘but you must allow a great deal forinexperience, you know.’
‘And youth?’ inquired Madame.
‘Oh, I say nothing about that, Madame Mantalini,’ replied MissKnag, reddening; ‘because if youth were any excuse, you wouldn’thave—’
‘Quite so good a forewoman as I have, I suppose,’ suggestedMadame.
‘Well, I never did know anybody like you, Madame Mantalini,’
rejoined Miss Knag most complacently, ‘and that’s the fact, for youknow what one’s going to say, before it has time to rise to one’slips. Oh, very good! Ha, ha, ha!’
‘For myself,’ observed Madame Mantalini, glancing withaffected carelessness at her assistant, and laughing heartily in hersleeve, ‘I consider Miss Nickleby the most awkward girl I ever sawin my life.’
‘Poor dear thing,’ said Miss Knag, ‘it’s not her fault. If it was, wemight hope to cure it; but as it’s her misfortune, MadameMantalini, why really you know, as the man said about the blindhorse, we ought to respect it.’
‘Her uncle told me she had been considered pretty,’ remarkedMadame Mantalini. ‘I think her one of the most ordinary girls Iever met with.’
‘Ordinary!’ cried Miss Knag with a countenance beamingdelight; ‘and awkward! Well, all I can say is, Madame Mantalini,that I quite love the poor girl; and that if she was twice asindifferent-looking, and twice as awkward as she is, I should beonly so much the more her friend, and that’s the truth of it.’
In fact, Miss Knag had conceived an incipient affection for KateNickleby, after witnessing her failure that morning, and this shortconversation with her superior increased the favourableprepossession to a most surprising extent; which was the more remarkable, as when she first scanned that young lady’s face andfigure, she had entertained certain inward misgivings that theywould never agree.
‘But now,’ said Miss Knag, glancing at the reflection of herselfin a mirror at no great distance, ‘I love her—I quite love her—Ideclare I do!’
Of such a highly disinterested quality was this devotedfriendship, and so superior was it to the little weaknesses offlattery or ill-nature, that the kind-hearted Miss Knag candidlyinformed Kate Nickleby, next day, that she saw she would neverdo for the business, but that she need not give herself the slightestuneasiness on this account, for that she (Miss Knag), by increasedexertions on her own part, would keep her as much as possible inthe background, and that all she would have to do, would be toremain perfectly quiet before company, and to shrink fromattracting notice by every means in her power. This lastsuggestion was so much in accordance with the timid girl’s ownfeelings and wishes, that she readily promised implicit reliance onthe excellent spinster’s advice: without questioning, or indeedbestowing a moment’s reflection upon, the motives that dictated it.
‘I take quite a lively interest in you, my dear soul, upon myword,’ said Miss Knag; ‘a sister’s interest, actually. It’s the mostsingular circumstance I ever knew.’
Undoubtedly it was singular, that if Miss Knag did feel a stronginterest in Kate Nickleby, it should not rather have been theinterest of a maiden aunt or grandmother; that being theconclusion to which the difference in their respective ages wouldhave naturally tended. But Miss Knag wore clothes of a veryyouthful pattern, and perhaps her feelings took the same shape.
‘Bless you!’ said Miss Knag, bestowing a kiss upon Kate at theconclusion of the second day’s work, ‘how very awkward you havebeen all day.’
‘I fear your kind and open communication, which has renderedme more painfully conscious of my own defects, has not improvedme,’ sighed Kate.
‘No, no, I dare say not,’ rejoined Miss Knag, in a mostuncommon flow of good humour. ‘But how much better that youshould know it at first, and so be able to go on, straight andcomfortable! Which way are you walking, my love?’
‘Towards the city,’ replied Kate.
‘The city!’ cried Miss Knag, regarding herself with great favourin the glass as she tied her bonnet. ‘Goodness gracious me! now doyou really live in the city?’
‘Is it so very unusual for anybody to live there?’ asked Kate, halfsmiling.
‘I couldn’t have believed it possible that any young womancould have lived there, under any circumstances whatever, forthree days together,’ replied Miss Knag.
‘Reduced—I should say poor people,’ answered Kate,correcting herself hastily, for she was afraid of appearing proud,‘must live where they can.’
‘Ah! very true, so they must; very proper indeed!’ rejoined MissKnag with that sort of half-sigh, which, accompanied by two orthree slight nods of the head, is pity’s small change in generalsociety; ‘and that’s what I very often tell my brother, when ourservants go away ill, one after another, and he thinks the back-kitchen’s rather too damp for ’em to sleep in. These sort of people,I tell him, are glad to sleep anywhere! Heaven suits the back to the burden. What a nice thing it is to think that it should be so, isn’tit?’
‘Very,’ replied Kate.
‘I’ll walk with you part of the way, my dear,’ said Miss Knag, ‘foryou must go very near our house; and as it’s quite dark, and ourlast servant went to the hospital a week ago, with St Anthony’s firein her face, I shall be glad of your company.’
Kate would willingly have excused herself from this flatteringcompanionship; but Miss Knag having adjusted her bonnet to herentire satisfaction, took her arm with an air which plainly showedhow much she felt the compliment she was conferring, and theywere in the street before she could say another word.
‘I fear,’ said Kate, hesitating, ‘that mama—my mother, I mean—is waiting for me.’
‘You needn’t make the least apology, my dear,’ said Miss Knag,smiling sweetly as she spoke; ‘I dare say she is a very respectableold person, and I shall be quite—hem—quite pleased to know her.’
As poor Mrs Nickleby was cooling—not her heels alone, but herlimbs generally at the street corner, Kate had no alternative but tomake her known to Miss Knag, who, doing the last new carriagecustomer at second-hand, acknowledged the introduction withcondescending politeness. The three then walked away, arm inarm: with Miss Knag in the middle, in a special state of amiability.
‘I have taken such a fancy to your daughter, Mrs Nickleby, youcan’t think,’ said Miss Knag, after she had proceeded a littledistance in dignified silence.
‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said Mrs Nickleby; ‘though it isnothing new to me, that even strangers should like Kate.’
‘Hem!’ cried Miss Knag.
‘You will like her better when you know how good she is,’ saidMrs Nickleby. ‘It is a great blessing to me, in my misfortunes, tohave a child, who knows neither pride nor vanity, and whosebringing-up might very well have excused a little of both at first.
You don’t know what it is to lose a husband, Miss Knag.’
As Miss Knag had never yet known what it was to gain one, itfollowed, very nearly as a matter of course, that she didn’t knowwhat it was to lose one; so she said, in some haste, ‘No, indeed Idon’t,’ and said it with an air intending to signify that she shouldlike to catch herself marrying anybody—no, no, she knew betterthan that.
‘Kate has improved even in this little time, I have no doubt,’
said Mrs Nickleby, glancing proudly at her daughter.
‘Oh! of course,’ said Miss Knag.
‘And will improve still more,’ added Mrs Nickleby.
‘That she will, I’ll be bound,’ replied Miss Knag, squeezingKate’s arm in her own, to point the joke.
‘She always was clever,’ said poor Mrs Nickleby, brighteningup, ‘always, from a baby. I recollect when she was only two yearsand a half old, that a gentleman who used to visit very much at ourhouse—Mr Watkins, you know, Kate, my dear, that your poorpapa went bail for, who afterwards ran away to the United States,and sent us a pair of snow shoes, with such an affectionate letterthat it made your poor dear father cry for a week. You rememberthe letter? In which he said that he was very sorry he couldn’trepay the fifty pounds just then, because his capital was all out atinterest, and he was very busy making his fortune, but that hedidn’t forget you were his god-daughter, and he should take it veryunkind if we didn’t buy you a silver coral and put it down to his old account? Dear me, yes, my dear, how stupid you are! andspoke so affectionately of the old port wine that he used to drink abottle and a half of every time he came. You must remember,Kate?’
‘Yes, yes, mama; what of him?’
‘Why, that Mr Watkins, my dear,’ said Mrs Nickleby slowly, as ifshe were making a tremendous effort to recollect something ofparamount importance; ‘that Mr Watkins—he wasn’t any relation,Miss Knag will understand, to the Watkins who kept the Old Boarin the village; by-the-bye, I don’t remember whether it was the OldBoar or the George the Third, but it was one of the two, I know,and it’s much the same—that Mr Watkins said, when you wereonly two years and a half old, that you were one of the mostastonishing children he ever saw. He did indeed, Miss Knag, andhe wasn’t at all fond of children, and couldn’t have had theslightest motive for doing it. I know it was he who said so, becauseI recollect, as well as if it was only yesterday, his borrowing twentypounds of her poor dear papa the very moment afterwards.’
Having quoted this extraordinary and most disinterestedtestimony to her daughter’s excellence, Mrs Nickleby stopped tobreathe; and Miss Knag, finding that the discourse was turningupon family greatness, lost no time in striking in, with a smallreminiscence on her own account.
‘Don’t talk of lending money, Mrs Nickleby,’ said Miss Knag, ‘oryou’ll drive me crazy, perfectly crazy. My mama—hem—was themost lovely and beautiful creature, with the most striking andexquisite—hem—the most exquisite nose that ever was put upon ahuman face, I do believe, Mrs Nickleby (here Miss Knag rubbedher own nose sympathetically); the most delightful and accomplished woman, perhaps, that ever was seen; but she hadthat one failing of lending money, and carried it to such an extentthat she lent—hem—oh! thousands of pounds, all our littlefortunes, and what’s more, Mrs Nickleby, I don’t think, if we wereto live till—till—hem—till the very end of time, that we shouldever get them back again. I don’t indeed.’
After concluding this effort of invention without beinginterrupted, Miss Knag fell into many more recollections, no lessinteresting than true, the full tide of which, Mrs Nickleby in vainattempting to stem, at length sailed smoothly down by adding anunder-current of her own recollections; and so both ladies went ontalking together in perfect contentment; the only differencebetween them being, that whereas Miss Knag addressed herself toKate, and talked very loud, Mrs Nickleby kept on in one unbrokenmonotonous flow, perfectly satisfied to be talking and caring verylittle whether anybody listened or not.
In this manner they walked on, very amicably, until theyarrived at Miss Knag’s brother’s, who was an ornamental stationerand small circulating library keeper, in a by-street off TottenhamCourt Road; and who let out by the day, week, month, or year, thenewest old novels, whereof the titles were displayed in pen-andink characters on a sheet of pasteboard, swinging at his door-post.
As Miss Knag happened, at the moment, to be in the middle of anaccount of her twenty-second offer from a gentleman of largeproperty, she insisted upon their all going in to supper together;and in they went. ‘Don’t go away, Mortimer,’ said Miss Knag asthey entered the shop. ‘It’s only one of our young ladies and hermother. Mrs and Miss Nickleby.’
‘Oh, indeed!’ said Mr Mortimer Knag. ‘Ah!’
Having given utterance to these ejaculations with a veryprofound and thoughtful air, Mr Knag slowly snuffed two kitchencandles on the counter, and two more in the window, and thensnuffed himself from a box in his waistcoat pocket.
There was something very impressive in the ghostly air withwhich all this was done; and as Mr Knag was a tall lank gentlemanof solemn features, wearing spectacles, and garnished with muchless hair than a gentleman bordering on forty, or thereabouts,usually boasts, Mrs Nickleby whispered her daughter that shethought he must be literary.
‘Past ten,’ said Mr Knag, consulting his watch. ‘Thomas, closethe warehouse.’
Thomas was a boy nearly half as tall as a shutter, and thewarehouse was a shop about the size of three hackney coaches.
‘Ah!’ said Mr Knag once more, heaving a deep sigh as herestored to its parent shelf the book he had been reading. ‘Well—yes—I believe supper is ready, sister.’
With another sigh Mr Knag took up the kitchen candles fromthe counter, and preceded the ladies with mournful steps to aback-parlour, where a charwoman, employed in the absence of thesick servant, and remunerated with certain eighteenpences to bededucted from her wages due, was putting the supper out.
‘Mrs Blockson,’ said Miss Knag, reproachfully, ‘how very often Ihave begged you not to come into the room with your bonnet on!’
‘I can’t help it, Miss Knag,’ said the charwoman, bridling up onthe shortest notice. ‘There’s been a deal o’cleaning to do in thishouse, and if you don’t like it, I must trouble you to look out forsomebody else, for it don’t hardly pay me, and that’s the truth, if Iwas to be hung this minute.’
‘I don’t want any remarks if you please,’ said Miss Knag, with astrong emphasis on the personal pronoun. ‘Is there any firedownstairs for some hot water presently?’
‘No there is not, indeed, Miss Knag,’ replied the substitute; ‘andso I won’t tell you no stories about it.’
‘Then why isn’t there?’ said Miss Knag.
‘Because there arn’t no coals left out, and if I could make coals Iwould, but as I can’t I won’t, and so I make bold to tell you, Mem,’
replied Mrs Blockson.
‘Will you hold your tongue—female?’ said Mr Mortimer Knag,plunging violently into this dialogue.
‘By your leave, Mr Knag,’ retorted the charwoman, turningsharp round. ‘I’m only too glad not to speak in this house,excepting when and where I’m spoke to, sir; and with regard tobeing a female, sir, I should wish to know what you consideredyourself?’
‘A miserable wretch,’ exclaimed Mr Knag, striking his forehead.
‘A miserable wretch.’
‘I’m very glad to find that you don’t call yourself out of yourname, sir,’ said Mrs Blockson; ‘and as I had two twin children theday before yesterday was only seven weeks, and my little Charleyfell down a airy and put his elber out, last Monday, I shall take it asa favour if you’ll send nine shillings, for one week’s work, to myhouse, afore the clock strikes ten tomorrow.’
With these parting words, the good woman quitted the roomwith great ease of manner, leaving the door wide open; Mr Knag,at the same moment, flung himself into the ‘warehouse,’ andgroaned aloud.
‘What is the matter with that gentleman, pray?’ inquired Mrs Nickleby, greatly disturbed by the sound.
‘Is he ill?’ inquired Kate, really alarmed.
‘Hush!’ replied Miss Knag; ‘a most melancholy history. He wasonce most devotedly attached to—hem—to Madame Mantalini.’
‘Bless me!’ exclaimed Mrs Nickleby.
‘Yes,’ continued Miss Knag, ‘and received great encouragementtoo, and confidently hoped to marry her. He has a most romanticheart, Mrs Nickleby, as indeed—hem—as indeed all our familyhave, and the disappointment was a dreadful blow. He is awonderfully accomplished man—most extraordinarilyaccomplished—reads—hem—reads every novel that comes out; Imean every novel that—hem—that has any fashion in it, of course.
The fact is, that he did find so much in the books he read,applicable to his own misfortunes, and did find himself in everyrespect so much like the heroes—because of course he isconscious of his own superiority, as we all are, and verynaturally—that he took to scorning everything, and became agenius; and I am quite sure that he is, at this very presentmoment, writing another book.’
‘Another book!’ repeated Kate, finding that a pause was left forsomebody to say something.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Knag, nodding in great triumph; ‘another book,in three volumes post octavo. Of course it’s a great advantage tohim, in all his little fashionable descriptions, to have the benefit ofmy—hem—of my experience, because, of course, few authors whowrite about such things can have such opportunities of knowingthem as I have. He’s so wrapped up in high life, that the leastallusion to business or worldly matters—like that woman just now,for instance—quite distracts him; but, as I often say, I think his disappointment a great thing for him, because if he hadn’t beendisappointed he couldn’t have written about blighted hopes andall that; and the fact is, if it hadn’t happened as it has, I don’tbelieve his genius would ever have come out at all.’
How much more communicative Miss Knag might have becomeunder more favourable circumstances, it is impossible to divine,but as the gloomy one was within ear-shot, and the fire wantedmaking up, her disclosures stopped here. To judge from allappearances, and the difficulty of making the water warm, the lastservant could not have been much accustomed to any other firethan St Anthony’s; but a little brandy and water was made at last,and the guests, having been previously regaled with cold leg ofmutton and bread and cheese, soon afterwards took leave; Kateamusing herself, all the way home, with the recollection of her lastglimpse of Mr Mortimer Knag deeply abstracted in the shop; andMrs Nickleby by debating within herself whether the dressmakingfirm would ultimately become ‘Mantalini, Knag, and Nickleby’, or‘Mantalini, Nickleby, and Knag’.
At this high point, Miss Knag’s friendship remained for threewhole days, much to the wonderment of Madame Mantalini’syoung ladies who had never beheld such constancy in thatquarter, before; but on the fourth, it received a check no lessviolent than sudden, which thus occurred.
It happened that an old lord of great family, who was going tomarry a young lady of no family in particular, came with the younglady, and the young lady’s sister, to witness the ceremony of tryingon two nuptial bonnets which had been ordered the day before,and Madame Mantalini announcing the fact, in a shrill treble,through the speaking-pipe, which communicated with the workroom, Miss Knag darted hastily upstairs with a bonnet ineach hand, and presented herself in the show-room, in a charmingstate of palpitation, intended to demonstrate her enthusiasm inthe cause. The bonnets were no sooner fairly on, than Miss Knagand Madame Mantalini fell into convulsions of admiration.
‘A most elegant appearance,’ said Madame Mantalini.
‘I never saw anything so exquisite in all my life,’ said MissKnag.
Now, the old lord, who was a very old lord, said nothing, butmumbled and chuckled in a state of great delight, no less with thenuptial bonnets and their wearers, than with his own address ingetting such a fine woman for his wife; and the young lady, whowas a very lively young lady, seeing the old lord in this rapturouscondition, chased the old lord behind a cheval-glass, and then andthere kissed him, while Madame Mantalini and the other younglady looked, discreetly, another way.
But, pending the salutation, Miss Knag, who was tinged withcuriosity, stepped accidentally behind the glass, and encounteredthe lively young lady’s eye just at the very moment when shekissed the old lord; upon which the young lady, in a poutingmanner, murmured something about ‘an old thing,’ and ‘greatimpertinence,’ and finished by darting a look of displeasure atMiss Knag, and smiling contemptuously.
‘Madame Mantalini,’ said the young lady.
‘Ma’am,’ said Madame Mantalini.
‘Pray have up that pretty young creature we saw yesterday.’
‘Oh yes, do,’ said the sister.
‘Of all things in the world, Madame Mantalini,’ said the lord’sintended, throwing herself languidly on a sofa, ‘I hate being waited upon by frights or elderly persons. Let me always see that youngcreature, I beg, whenever I come.’
‘By all means,’ said the old lord; ‘the lovely young creature, byall means.’
‘Everybody is talking about her,’ said the young lady, in thesame careless manner; ‘and my lord, being a great admirer ofbeauty, must positively see her.’
‘She is universally admired,’ replied Madame Mantalini. ‘MissKnag, send up Miss Nickleby. You needn’t return.’
‘I beg your pardon, Madame Mantalini, what did you say last?’
asked Miss Knag, trembling.
‘You needn’t return,’ repeated the superior, sharply. Miss Knagvanished without another word, and in all reasonable time wasreplaced by Kate, who took off the new bonnets and put on the oldones: blushing very much to find that the old lord and the twoyoung ladies were staring her out of countenance all the time.
‘Why, how you colour, child!’ said the lord’s chosen bride.
‘She is not quite so accustomed to her business, as she will be ina week or two,’ interposed Madame Mantalini with a gracioussmile.
‘I am afraid you have been giving her some of your wickedlooks, my lord,’ said the intended.
‘No, no, no,’ replied the old lord, ‘no, no, I’m going to bemarried, and lead a new life. Ha, ha, ha! a new life, a new life! ha,ha, ha!’
It was a satisfactory thing to hear that the old gentleman wasgoing to lead a new life, for it was pretty evident that his old onewould not last him much longer. The mere exertion of protractedchuckling reduced him to a fearful ebb of coughing and gasping; it was some minutes before he could find breath to remark that thegirl was too pretty for a milliner.
‘I hope you don’t think good looks a disqualification for thebusiness, my lord,’ said Madame Mantalini, simpering.
‘Not by any means,’ replied the old lord, ‘or you would have leftit long ago.’
‘You naughty creature,’ said the lively lady, poking the peerwith her parasol; ‘I won’t have you talk so. How dare you?’
This playful inquiry was accompanied with another poke, andanother, and then the old lord caught the parasol, and wouldn’tgive it up again, which induced the other lady to come to therescue, and some very pretty sportiveness ensued. ‘You will seethat those little alterations are made, Madame Mantalini,’ said thelady. ‘Nay, you bad man, you positively shall go first; I wouldn’tleave you behind with that pretty girl, not for half a second. I knowyou too well. Jane, my dear, let him go first, and we shall be quitesure of him.’
The old lord, evidently much flattered by this suspicion,bestowed a grotesque leer upon Kate as he passed; and, receivinganother tap with the parasol for his wickedness, tottereddownstairs to the door, where his sprightly body was hoisted intothe carriage by two stout footmen.
‘Foh!’ said Madame Mantalini, ‘how he ever gets into a carriagewithout thinking of a hearse, I can’t think. There, take the thingsaway, my dear, take them away.’
Kate, who had remained during the whole scene with her eyesmodestly fixed upon the ground, was only too happy to availherself of the permission to retire, and hasten joyfully downstairsto Miss Knag’s dominion.
The circumstances of the little kingdom had greatly changed,however, during the short period of her absence. In place of MissKnag being stationed in her accustomed seat, preserving all thedignity and greatness of Madame Mantalini’s representative, thatworthy soul was reposing on a large box, bathed in tears, whilethree or four of the young ladies in close attendance upon her,together with the presence of hartshorn, vinegar, and otherrestoratives, would have borne ample testimony, even without thederangement of the head-dress and front row of curls, to herhaving fainted desperately.
‘Bless me!’ said Kate, stepping hastily forward, ‘what is thematter?’
This inquiry produced in Miss Knag violent symptoms of arelapse; and several young ladies, darting angry looks at Kate,applied more vinegar and hartshorn, and said it was ‘a shame.’
‘What is a shame?’ demanded Kate. ‘What is the matter? Whathas happened? tell me.’
‘Matter!’ cried Miss Knag, coming, all at once, bolt upright, tothe great consternation of the assembled maidens; ‘matter! Fieupon you, you nasty creature!’
‘Gracious!’ cried Kate, almost paralysed by the violence withwhich the adjective had been jerked out from between MissKnag’s closed teeth; ‘have I offended you?’
‘You offended me!’ retorted Miss Knag, ‘You! a chit, a child, anupstart nobody! Oh, indeed! Ha, ha!’
Now, it was evident, as Miss Knag laughed, that somethingstruck her as being exceedingly funny; and as the young ladiestook their tone from Miss Knag—she being the chief—they all gotup a laugh without a moment’s delay, and nodded their heads a little, and smiled sarcastically to each other, as much as to say howvery good that was!
‘Here she is,’ continued Miss Knag, getting off the box, andintroducing Kate with much ceremony and many low curtseys tothe delighted throng; ‘here she is—everybody is talking abouther—the belle, ladies—the beauty, the—oh, you bold-faced thing!’
At this crisis, Miss Knag was unable to repress a virtuousshudder, which immediately communicated itself to all the youngladies; after which, Miss Knag laughed, and after that, cried.
‘For fifteen years,’ exclaimed Miss Knag, sobbing in a mostaffecting manner, ‘for fifteen years have I been the credit andornament of this room and the one upstairs. Thank God,’ said MissKnag, stamping first her right foot and then her left withremarkable energy, ‘I have never in all that time, till now, beenexposed to the arts, the vile arts, of a creature, who disgraces uswith all her proceedings, and makes proper people blush forthemselves. But I feel it, I do feel it, although I am disgusted.’
Miss Knag here relapsed into softness, and the young ladiesrenewing their attentions, murmured that she ought to besuperior to such things, and that for their part they despised them,and considered them beneath their notice; in witness whereof,they called out, more emphatically than before, that it was ashame, and that they felt so angry, they did, they hardly knewwhat to do with themselves.
‘Have I lived to this day to be called a fright!’ cried Miss Knag,suddenly becoming convulsive, and making an effort to tear herfront off.
‘Oh no, no,’ replied the chorus, ‘pray don’t say so; don’t now!’
‘Have I deserved to be called an elderly person?’ screamed Miss Knag, wrestling with the supernumeraries.
‘Don’t think of such things, dear,’ answered the chorus.
‘I hate her,’ cried Miss Knag; ‘I detest and hate her. Never lether speak to me again; never let anybody who is a friend of minespeak to her; a slut, a hussy, an impudent artful hussy!’ Havingdenounced the object of her wrath, in these terms, Miss Knagscreamed once, hiccuped thrice, gurgled in her throat severaltimes, slumbered, shivered, woke, came to, composed her headdress, and declared herself quite well again.
Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings, at first, in perfectbewilderment. She had then turned red and pale by turns, andonce or twice essayed to speak; but, as the true motives of thisaltered behaviour developed themselves, she retired a few paces,and looked calmly on without deigning a reply. Nevertheless,although she walked proudly to her seat, and turned her backupon the group of little satellites who clustered round their rulingplanet in the remotest corner of the room, she gave way, in secret,to some such bitter tears as would have gladdened Miss Knag’sinmost soul, if she could have seen them fall.
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