Madame Mantalini finds herself in a Situation ofsome Difficulty, and Miss Nickleby finds herself inno Situation at all.
The agitation she had undergone, rendered Kate Nicklebyunable to resume her duties at the dressmaker’s for threedays, at the expiration of which interval she betook herselfat the accustomed hour, and with languid steps, to the temple offashion where Madame Mantalini reigned paramount andsupreme.
The ill-will of Miss Knag had lost nothing of its virulence in theinterval. The young ladies still scrupulously shrunk from allcompanionship with their denounced associate; and when thatexemplary female arrived a few minutes afterwards, she was at nopains to conceal the displeasure with which she regarded Kate’sreturn.
‘Upon my word!’ said Miss Knag, as the satellites flocked round,to relieve her of her bonnet and shawl; ‘I should have thoughtsome people would have had spirit enough to stop awayaltogether, when they know what an incumbrance their presenceis to right-minded persons. But it’s a queer world; oh! it’s a queerworld!’
Miss Knag, having passed this comment on the world, in thetone in which most people do pass comments on the world whenthey are out of temper, that is to say, as if they by no meansbelonged to it, concluded by heaving a sigh, wherewith she seemed meekly to compassionate the wickedness of mankind.
The attendants were not slow to echo the sigh, and Miss Knagwas apparently on the eve of favouring them with some furthermoral reflections, when the voice of Madame Mantalini, conveyedthrough the speaking-tube, ordered Miss Nickleby upstairs toassist in the arrangement of the show-room; a distinction whichcaused Miss Knag to toss her head so much, and bite her lips sohard, that her powers of conversation were, for the time,annihilated.
‘Well, Miss Nickleby, child,’ said Madame Mantalini, when Katepresented herself; ‘are you quite well again?’
‘A great deal better, thank you,’ replied Kate.
‘I wish I could say the same,’ remarked Madame Mantalini,seating herself with an air of weariness.
‘Are you ill?’ asked Kate. ‘I am very sorry for that.’
‘Not exactly ill, but worried, child—worried,’ rejoined Madame.
‘I am still more sorry to hear that,’ said Kate, gently. ‘Bodilyillness is more easy to bear than mental.’
‘Ah! and it’s much easier to talk than to bear either,’ saidMadame, rubbing her nose with much irritability of manner.
‘There, get to your work, child, and put the things in order, do.’
While Kate was wondering within herself what these symptomsof unusual vexation portended, Mr Mantalini put the tips of hiswhiskers, and, by degrees, his head, through the half-opened door,and cried in a soft voice—‘Is my life and soul there?’
‘No,’ replied his wife.
‘How can it say so, when it is blooming in the front room like alittle rose in a demnition flower-pot?’ urged Mantalini. ‘May its poppet come in and talk?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied Madame: ‘you know I never allow youhere. Go along!’
The poppet, however, encouraged perhaps by the relentingtone of this reply, ventured to rebel, and, stealing into the room,made towards Madame Mantalini on tiptoe, blowing her a kiss ashe came along.
‘Why will it vex itself, and twist its little face into bewitchingnutcrackers?’ said Mantalini, putting his left arm round the waistof his life and soul, and drawing her towards him with his right.
‘Oh! I can’t bear you,’ replied his wife.
‘Not—eh, not bear me!’ exclaimed Mantalini. ‘Fibs, fibs. Itcouldn’t be. There’s not a woman alive, that could tell me such athing to my face—to my own face.’ Mr Mantalini stroked his chin,as he said this, and glanced complacently at an opposite mirror.
‘Such destructive extravagance,’ reasoned his wife, in a lowtone.
‘All in its joy at having gained such a lovely creature, such alittle Venus, such a demd, enchanting, bewitching, engrossing,captivating little Venus,’ said Mantalini.
‘See what a situation you have placed me in!’ urged Madame.
‘No harm will come, no harm shall come, to its own darling,’
rejoined Mr Mantalini. ‘It is all over; there will be nothing thematter; money shall be got in; and if it don’t come in fast enough,old Nickleby shall stump up again, or have his jugular separated ifhe dares to vex and hurt the little—’
‘Hush!’ interposed Madame. ‘Don’t you see?’
Mr Mantalini, who, in his eagerness to make up matters withhis wife, had overlooked, or feigned to overlook, Miss Nickleby hitherto, took the hint, and laying his finger on his lip, sunk hisvoice still lower. There was, then, a great deal of whispering,during which Madame Mantalini appeared to make reference,more than once, to certain debts incurred by Mr Mantaliniprevious to her coverture; and also to an unexpected outlay ofmoney in payment of the aforesaid debts; and furthermore, tocertain agreeable weaknesses on that gentleman’s part, such asgaming, wasting, idling, and a tendency to horse-flesh; each ofwhich matters of accusation Mr Mantalini disposed of, by one kissor more, as its relative importance demanded. The upshot of it allwas, that Madame Mantalini was in raptures with him, and thatthey went upstairs to breakfast.
Kate busied herself in what she had to do, and was silentlyarranging the various articles of decoration in the best taste shecould display, when she started to hear a strange man’s voice inthe room, and started again, to observe, on looking round, that awhite hat, and a red neckerchief, and a broad round face, and alarge head, and part of a green coat were in the room too.
‘Don’t alarm yourself, miss,’ said the proprietor of theseappearances. ‘I say; this here’s the mantie-making consarn, an’tit?’
‘Yes,’ rejoined Kate, greatly astonished. ‘What did you want?’
The stranger answered not; but, first looking back, as though tobeckon to some unseen person outside, came, very deliberately,into the room, and was closely followed by a little man in brown,very much the worse for wear, who brought with him a mingledfumigation of stale tobacco and fresh onions. The clothes of thisgentleman were much bespeckled with flue; and his shoes,stockings, and nether garments, from his heels to the waist buttons of his coat inclusive, were profusely embroidered withsplashes of mud, caught a fortnight previously—before the setting-in of the fine weather.
Kate’s very natural impression was, that these engagingindividuals had called with the view of possessing themselves,unlawfully, of any portable articles that chanced to strike theirfancy. She did not attempt to disguise her apprehensions, andmade a move towards the door.
‘Wait a minnit,’ said the man in the green coat, closing it softly,and standing with his back against it. ‘This is a unpleasant bisness.
Vere’s your govvernor?’
‘My what—did you say?’ asked Kate, trembling; for she thought‘governor’ might be slang for watch or money.
‘Mister Muntlehiney,’ said the man. ‘Wot’s come on him? Is heat home?’
‘He is above stairs, I believe,’ replied Kate, a little reassured bythis inquiry. ‘Do you want him?’
‘No,’ replied the visitor. ‘I don’t ezactly want him, if it’s made afavour on. You can jist give him that ’ere card, and tell him if hewants to speak to me, and save trouble, here I am; that’s all.’
With these words, the stranger put a thick square card intoKate’s hand, and, turning to his friend, remarked, with an easy air,‘that the rooms was a good high pitch;’ to which the friendassented, adding, by way of illustration, ‘that there was lots ofroom for a little boy to grow up a man in either on ’em, vithoutmuch fear of his ever bringing his head into contract vith theceiling.’
After ringing the bell which would summon Madame Mantalini,Kate glanced at the card, and saw that it displayed the name of ‘Scaley,’ together with some other information to which she hadnot had time to refer, when her attention was attracted by MrScaley himself, who, walking up to one of the cheval-glasses, gaveit a hard poke in the centre with his stick, as coolly as if it hadbeen made of cast iron.
‘Good plate this here, Tix,’ said Mr Scaley to his friend.
‘Ah!’ rejoined Mr Tix, placing the marks of his four fingers, anda duplicate impression of his thumb, on a piece of sky-blue silk;‘and this here article warn’t made for nothing, mind you.’
From the silk, Mr Tix transferred his admiration to someelegant articles of wearing apparel, while Mr Scaley adjusted hisneckcloth, at leisure, before the glass, and afterwards, aided by itsreflection, proceeded to the minute consideration of a pimple onhis chin; in which absorbing occupation he was yet engaged, whenMadame Mantalini, entering the room, uttered an exclamation ofsurprise which roused him.
‘Oh! Is this the missis?’ inquired Scaley.
‘It is Madame Mantalini,’ said Kate.
‘Then,’ said Mr Scaley, producing a small document from hispocket and unfolding it very slowly, ‘this is a writ of execution, andif it’s not conwenient to settle we’ll go over the house at wunst,please, and take the inwentory.’
Poor Madame Mantalini wrung her hands for grief, and rungthe bell for her husband; which done, she fell into a chair and afainting fit, simultaneously. The professional gentlemen, however,were not at all discomposed by this event, for Mr Scaley, leaningupon a stand on which a handsome dress was displayed (so thathis shoulders appeared above it, in nearly the same manner as theshoulders of the lady for whom it was designed would have done if she had had it on), pushed his hat on one side and scratched hishead with perfect unconcern, while his friend Mr Tix, taking thatopportunity for a general survey of the apartment preparatory toentering on business, stood with his inventory-book under his armand his hat in his hand, mentally occupied in putting a price uponevery object within his range of vision.
Such was the posture of affairs when Mr Mantalini hurried in;and as that distinguished specimen had had a pretty extensiveintercourse with Mr Scaley’s fraternity in his bachelor days, andwas, besides, very far from being taken by surprise on the presentagitating occasion, he merely shrugged his shoulders, thrust hishands down to the bottom of his pockets, elevated his eyebrows,whistled a bar or two, swore an oath or two, and, sitting astrideupon a chair, put the best face upon the matter with greatcomposure and decency.
‘What’s the demd total?’ was the first question he asked.
‘Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pound, four and ninepenceha’penny,’ replied Mr Scaley, without moving a limb.
‘The halfpenny be demd,’ said Mr Mantalini, impatiently.
‘By all means if you vish it,’ retorted Mr Scaley; ‘and theninepence.’
‘It don’t matter to us if the fifteen hundred and twenty-sevenpound went along with it, that I know on,’ observed Mr Tix.
‘Not a button,’ said Scaley.
‘Well,’ said the same gentleman, after a pause, ‘wot’s to bedone—anything? Is it only a small crack, or a out-and-out smash?
A break-up of the constitootion is it?—werry good. Then Mr TomTix, esk-vire, you must inform your angel wife and lovely family asyou won’t sleep at home for three nights to come, along of being in possession here. Wot’s the good of the lady a fretting herself?’
continued Mr Scaley, as Madame Mantalini sobbed. ‘A good half ofwot’s here isn’t paid for, I des-say, and wot a consolation oughtn’tthat to be to her feelings!’
With these remarks, combining great pleasantry with soundmoral encouragement under difficulties, Mr Scaley proceeded totake the inventory, in which delicate task he was materiallyassisted by the uncommon tact and experience of Mr Tix, thebroker.
‘My cup of happiness’s sweetener,’ said Mantalini, approachinghis wife with a penitent air; ‘will you listen to me for two minutes?’
‘Oh! don’t speak to me,’ replied his wife, sobbing. ‘You haveruined me, and that’s enough.’
Mr Mantalini, who had doubtless well considered his part, nosooner heard these words pronounced in a tone of grief andseverity, than he recoiled several paces, assumed an expression ofconsuming mental agony, rushed headlong from the room, andwas, soon afterwards, heard to slam the door of an upstairsdressing-room with great violence.
‘Miss Nickleby,’ cried Madame Mantalini, when this sound mether ear, ‘make haste, for Heaven’s sake, he will destroy himself! Ispoke unkindly to him, and he cannot bear it from me. Alfred, mydarling Alfred.’
With such exclamations, she hurried upstairs, followed by Katewho, although she did not quite participate in the fond wife’sapprehensions, was a little flurried, nevertheless. The dressing-room door being hastily flung open, Mr Mantalini was disclosed toview, with his shirt-collar symmetrically thrown back: putting afine edge to a breakfast knife by means of his razor strop.
‘Ah!’ cried Mr Mantalini, ‘interrupted!’ and whisk went thebreakfast knife into Mr Mantalini’s dressing-gown pocket, whileMr Mantalini’s eyes rolled wildly, and his hair floating in wilddisorder, mingled with his whiskers.
‘Alfred,’ cried his wife, flinging her arms about him, ‘I didn’tmean to say it, I didn’t mean to say it!’
‘Ruined!’ cried Mr Mantalini. ‘Have I brought ruin upon thebest and purest creature that ever blessed a demnition vagabond!
Demmit, let me go.’ At this crisis of his ravings Mr Mantalini madea pluck at the breakfast knife, and being restrained by his wife’sgrasp, attempted to dash his head against the wall—taking verygood care to be at least six feet from it.
‘Compose yourself, my own angel,’ said Madame. ‘It wasnobody’s fault; it was mine as much as yours, we shall do very wellyet. Come, Alfred, come.’
Mr Mantalini did not think proper to come to, all at once; but,after calling several times for poison, and requesting some lady orgentleman to blow his brains out, gentler feelings came upon him,and he wept pathetically. In this softened frame of mind he did notoppose the capture of the knife—which, to tell the truth, he wasrather glad to be rid of, as an inconvenient and dangerous articlefor a skirt pocket—and finally he suffered himself to be led awayby his affectionate partner.
After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies wereinformed that their services would be dispensed with until furthernotice, and at the expiration of two days, the name of Mantaliniappeared in the list of bankrupts: Miss Nickleby received anintimation per post, on the same morning, that the business wouldbe, in future, carried on under the name of Miss Knag, and that her assistance would no longer be required—a piece ofintelligence with which Mrs Nickleby was no sooner madeacquainted, than that good lady declared she had expected it allalong and cited divers unknown occasions on which she hadprophesied to that precise effect.
‘And I say again,’ remarked Mrs Nickleby (who, it is scarcelynecessary to observe, had never said so before), ‘I say again, that amilliner’s and dressmaker’s is the very last description of business,Kate, that you should have thought of attaching yourself to. I don’tmake it a reproach to you, my love; but still I will say, that if youhad consulted your own mother—’
‘Well, well, mama,’ said Kate, mildly: ‘what would yourecommend now?’
‘Recommend!’ cried Mrs Nickleby, ‘isn’t it obvious, my dear,that of all occupations in this world for a young lady situated asyou are, that of companion to some amiable lady is the very thingfor which your education, and manners, and personal appearance,and everything else, exactly qualify you? Did you never hear yourpoor dear papa speak of the young lady who was the daughter ofthe old lady who boarded in the same house that he boarded inonce, when he was a bachelor—what was her name again? I knowit began with a B, and ended with g, but whether it was Watersor—no, it couldn’t have been that, either; but whatever her namewas, don’t you know that that young lady went as companion to amarried lady who died soon afterwards, and that she married thehusband, and had one of the finest little boys that the medical manhad ever seen—all within eighteen months?’
Kate knew, perfectly well, that this torrent of favourablerecollection was occasioned by some opening, real or imaginary, which her mother had discovered, in the companionship walk oflife. She therefore waited, very patiently, until all reminiscencesand anecdotes, bearing or not bearing upon the subject, had beenexhausted, and at last ventured to inquire what discovery hadbeen made. The truth then came out. Mrs Nickleby had, thatmorning, had a yesterday’s newspaper of the very firstrespectability from the public-house where the porter came from;and in this yesterday’s newspaper was an advertisement, couchedin the purest and most grammatical English, announcing that amarried lady was in want of a genteel young person as companion,and that the married lady’s name and address were to be known,on application at a certain library at the west end of the town,therein mentioned.
‘And I say,’ exclaimed Mrs Nickleby, laying the paper down intriumph, ‘that if your uncle don’t object, it’s well worth the trial.’
Kate was too sick at heart, after the rough jostling she hadalready had with the world, and really cared too little at themoment what fate was reserved for her, to make any objection. MrRalph Nickleby offered none, but, on the contrary, highlyapproved of the suggestion; neither did he express any greatsurprise at Madame Mantalini’s sudden failure, indeed it wouldhave been strange if he had, inasmuch as it had been procuredand brought about chiefly by himself. So, the name and addresswere obtained without loss of time, and Miss Nickleby and hermama went off in quest of Mrs Wititterly, of Cadogan Place,Sloane Street, that same forenoon.
Cadogan Place is the one slight bond that joins two greatextremes; it is the connecting link between the aristocraticpavements of Belgrave Square, and the barbarism of Chelsea. It is in Sloane Street, but not of it. The people in Cadogan Place lookdown upon Sloane Street, and think Brompton low. They affectfashion too, and wonder where the New Road is. Not that theyclaim to be on precisely the same footing as the high folks ofBelgrave Square and Grosvenor Place, but that they stand, withreference to them, rather in the light of those illegitimate childrenof the great who are content to boast of their connections,although their connections disavow them. Wearing as much asthey can of the airs and semblances of loftiest rank, the people ofCadogan Place have the realities of middle station. It is theconductor which communicates to the inhabitants of regionsbeyond its limit, the shock of pride of birth and rank, which it hasnot within itself, but derives from a fountain-head beyond; or, likethe ligament which unites the Siamese twins, it containssomething of the life and essence of two distinct bodies, and yetbelongs to neither.
Upon this doubtful ground, lived Mrs Wititterly, and at MrsWititterly’s door Kate Nickleby knocked with trembling hand. Thedoor was opened by a big footman with his head floured, orchalked, or painted in some way (it didn’t look genuine powder),and the big footman, receiving the card of introduction, gave it to alittle page; so little, indeed, that his body would not hold, inordinary array, the number of small buttons which areindispensable to a page’s costume, and they were consequentlyobliged to be stuck on four abreast. This young gentleman took thecard upstairs on a salver, and pending his return, Kate and hermother were shown into a dining-room of rather dirty and shabbyaspect, and so comfortably arranged as to be adapted to almostany purpose rather than eating and drinking.
Now, in the ordinary course of things, and according to allauthentic descriptions of high life, as set forth in books, MrsWititterly ought to have been in her boudoir; but whether it wasthat Mr Wititterly was at that moment shaving himself in theboudoir or what not, certain it is that Mrs Wititterly gave audiencein the drawing-room, where was everything proper and necessary,including curtains and furniture coverings of a roseate hue, toshed a delicate bloom on Mrs Wititterly’s complexion, and a littledog to snap at strangers’ legs for Mrs Wititterly’s amusement, andthe afore-mentioned page, to hand chocolate for Mrs Wititterly’srefreshment.
The lady had an air of sweet insipidity, and a face of engagingpaleness; there was a faded look about her, and about thefurniture, and about the house. She was reclining on a sofa in sucha very unstudied attitude, that she might have been taken for anactress all ready for the first scene in a ballet, and only waiting forthe drop curtain to go up.
‘Place chairs.’
The page placed them.
‘Leave the room, Alphonse.’
The page left it; but if ever an Alphonse carried plain Bill in hisface and figure, that page was the boy.
‘I have ventured to call, ma’am,’ said Kate, after a few secondsof awkward silence, ‘from having seen your advertisement.’
‘Yes,’ replied Mrs Wititterly, ‘one of my people put it in thepaper—Yes.’
‘I thought, perhaps,’ said Kate, modestly, ‘that if you had notalready made a final choice, you would forgive my troubling youwith an application.’
‘Yes,’ drawled Mrs Wititterly again.
‘If you have already made a selection—’
‘Oh dear no,’ interrupted the lady, ‘I am not so easily suited. Ireally don’t know what to say. You have never been a companionbefore, have you?’
Mrs Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her opportunity,came dexterously in, before Kate could reply. ‘Not to any stranger,ma’am,’ said the good lady; ‘but she has been a companion to mefor some years. I am her mother, ma’am.’
‘Oh!’ said Mrs Wititterly, ‘I apprehend you.’
‘I assure you, ma’am,’ said Mrs Nickleby, ‘that I very littlethought, at one time, that it would be necessary for my daughter togo out into the world at all, for her poor dear papa was anindependent gentleman, and would have been at this moment ifhe had but listened in time to my constant entreaties and—’
‘Dear mama,’ said Kate, in a low voice.
‘My dear Kate, if you will allow me to speak,’ said Mrs Nickleby,‘I shall take the liberty of explaining to this lady—’
‘I think it is almost unnecessary, mama.’
And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which MrsNickleby intimated that she was going to say something whichwould clench the business at once, Kate maintained her point byan expressive look, and for once Mrs Nickleby was stopped uponthe very brink of an oration.
‘What are your accomplishments?’ asked Mrs Wititterly, withher eyes shut.
Kate blushed as she mentioned her principal acquirements,and Mrs Nickleby checked them all off, one by one, on her fingers;having calculated the number before she came out. Luckily the two calculations agreed, so Mrs Nickleby had no excuse fortalking.
‘You are a good temper?’ asked Mrs Wititterly, opening hereyes for an instant, and shutting them again.
‘I hope so,’ rejoined Kate.
‘And have a highly respectable reference for everything, haveyou?’
Kate replied that she had, and laid her uncle’s card upon thetable.
‘Have the goodness to draw your chair a little nearer, and letme look at you,’ said Mrs Wititterly; ‘I am so very nearsighted thatI can’t quite discern your features.’
Kate complied, though not without some embarrassment, withthis request, and Mrs Wititterly took a languid survey of hercountenance, which lasted some two or three minutes.
‘I like your appearance,’ said that lady, ringing a little bell.
‘Alphonse, request your master to come here.’
The page disappeared on this errand, and after a short interval,during which not a word was spoken on either side, opened thedoor for an important gentleman of about eight-and-thirty, ofrather plebeian countenance, and with a very light head of hair,who leant over Mrs Wititterly for a little time, and conversed withher in whispers.
‘Oh!’ he said, turning round, ‘yes. This is a most importantmatter. Mrs Wititterly is of a very excitable nature; very delicate,very fragile; a hothouse plant, an exotic.’
‘Oh! Henry, my dear,’ interposed Mrs Wititterly.
‘You are, my love, you know you are; one breath—’ said Mr W.,blowing an imaginary feather away. ‘Pho! you’re gone!’
The lady sighed.
‘Your soul is too large for your body,’ said Mr Wititterly. ‘Yourintellect wears you out; all the medical men say so; you know thatthere is not a physician who is not proud of being called in to you.
What is their unanimous declaration? “My dear doctor,” said I toSir Tumley Snuffim, in this very room, the very last time he came.
“My dear doctor, what is my wife’s complaint? Tell me all. I canbear it. Is it nerves?” “My dear fellow,” he said, “be proud of thatwoman; make much of her; she is an ornament to the fashionableworld, and to you. Her complaint is soul. It swells, expands,dilates—the blood fires, the pulse quickens, the excitementincreases—Whew!”’ Here Mr Wititterly, who, in the ardour of hisdescription, had flourished his right hand to within something lessthan an inch of Mrs Nickleby’s bonnet, drew it hastily back again,and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had been done by some violentmachinery.
‘You make me out worse than I am, Henry,’ said Mrs Wititterly,with a faint smile.
‘I do not, Julia, I do not,’ said Mr W. ‘The society in which youmove—necessarily move, from your station, connection, andendowments—is one vortex and whirlpool of the most frightfulexcitement. Bless my heart and body, can I ever forget the nightyou danced with the baronet’s nephew at the election ball, atExeter! It was tremendous.’
‘I always suffer for these triumphs afterwards,’ said MrsWititterly.
‘And for that very reason,’ rejoined her husband, ‘you musthave a companion, in whom there is great gentleness, greatsweetness, excessive sympathy, and perfect repose.’
Here, both Mr and Mrs Wititterly, who had talked rather at theNicklebys than to each other, left off speaking, and looked at theirtwo hearers, with an expression of countenance which seemed tosay, ‘What do you think of all this?’
‘Mrs Wititterly,’ said her husband, addressing himself to MrsNickleby, ‘is sought after and courted by glittering crowds andbrilliant circles. She is excited by the opera, the drama, the finearts, the—the—the—’
‘The nobility, my love,’ interposed Mrs Wititterly.
‘The nobility, of course,’ said Mr Wititterly. ‘And the military.
She forms and expresses an immense variety of opinions on animmense variety of subjects. If some people in public life wereacquainted with Mrs Wititterly’s real opinion of them, they wouldnot hold their heads, perhaps, quite as high as they do.’
‘Hush, Henry,’ said the lady; ‘this is scarcely fair.’
‘I mention no names, Julia,’ replied Mr Wititterly; ‘and nobodyis injured. I merely mention the circumstance to show that you areno ordinary person, that there is a constant friction perpetuallygoing on between your mind and your body; and that you must besoothed and tended. Now let me hear, dispassionately and calmly,what are this young lady’s qualifications for the office.’
In obedience to this request, the qualifications were all gonethrough again, with the addition of many interruptions and crossquestionings from Mr Wititterly. It was finally arranged thatinquiries should be made, and a decisive answer addressed to MissNickleby under cover of her uncle, within two days. Theseconditions agreed upon, the page showed them down as far as thestaircase window; and the big footman, relieving guard at thatpoint, piloted them in perfect safety to the street-door.
‘They are very distinguished people, evidently,’ said MrsNickleby, as she took her daughter’s arm. ‘What a superior personMrs Wititterly is!’
‘Do you think so, mama?’ was all Kate’s reply.
‘Why, who can help thinking so, Kate, my love?’ rejoined hermother. ‘She is pale though, and looks much exhausted. I hope shemay not be wearing herself out, but I am very much afraid.’
These considerations led the deep-sighted lady into acalculation of the probable duration of Mrs Wititterly’s life, andthe chances of the disconsolate widower bestowing his hand onher daughter. Before reaching home, she had freed MrsWititterly’s soul from all bodily restraint; married Kate with greatsplendour at St George’s, Hanover Square; and only leftundecided the minor question, whether a splendid French-polished mahogany bedstead should be erected for herself in thetwo-pair back of the house in Cadogan Place, or in the three-pairfront: between which apartments she could not quite balance theadvantages, and therefore adjusted the question at last, bydetermining to leave it to the decision of her son-in-law.
The inquiries were made. The answer—not to Kate’s very greatjoy—was favourable; and at the expiration of a week she betookherself, with all her movables and valuables, to Mrs Wititterly’smansion, where for the present we will leave her.
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