Newman Noggs inducts Mrs and Miss Nickleby into their new
dwelling in the City
MISS NICKLEBY'S REFLECTIONS, as she wended her way homewards, were of that
desponding nature which the occurrences of the morning had been sufficiently
calculated to awaken. Her uncle's was not a manner likely to dispel any doubts
or apprehensions she might have formed, in the outset, neither was the glimpse
she had had of Madame Mantalini's establishment by any means encouraging. It was
with many gloomy forebodings and misgivings, therefore, that she looked forward,
with a heavy heart, to the opening of her new career.
If her mother's consolations could have restored her to a pleasanter and more
enviable state of mind, there were abundance of them to produce the effect. By
the time Kate reached home, the good lady had called to mind two authentic cases
of milliners who had been possessed of considerable property, though whether
they had acquired it all in business, or had had a capital to start with, or had
been lucky and married to advantage, she could not exactly remember. However, as
she very logically remarked, there must have been some young person in that way
of business who had made a fortune without having anything to begin with, and
that being taken for granted, why should not Kate do the same? Miss La Creevy,
who was a member of the little council, ventured to insinuate some doubts
relative to the probability of Miss Nickleby's arriving at this happy
consummation in the compass of an ordinary lifetime; but the good lady set that
question entirely at rest, by informing them that she had a presentiment on the
subject--a species of second-sight with which she had been in the habit of
clenching every argument with the deceased Mr Nickleby, and, in nine cases and
three-quarters out of every ten, determining it the wrong way.
`I am afraid it is an unhealthy occupation,' said Miss La Creevy. `I
recollect getting three young milliners to sit to me, when I first began to
paint, and I remember that they were all very pale and sickly.'
`Oh! that's not a general rule by any means,' observed Mrs Nickleby; `for I
remember, as well as if it was only yesterday, employing one that I was
particularly recommended to, to make me a scarlet cloak at the time when scarlet
cloaks were fashionable, and she had a very red face--a very red face, indeed.'
`Perhaps she drank,' suggested Miss La Creevy.
`I don't know how that may have been,' returned Mrs Nickleby: `but I know she
had a very red face, so your argument goes for nothing.'
In this manner, and with like powerful reasoning, did the worthy matron meet
every little objection that presented itself to the new scheme of the morning.
Happy Mrs Nickleby! A project had but to be new, and it came home to her mind,
brightly varnished and gilded as a glittering toy.
This question disposed of, Kate communicated her uncle's desire about the
empty house, to which Mrs Nickleby assented with equal readiness,
characteristically remarking, that, on the fine evenings, it would be a pleasant
amusement for her to walk to the West-end to fetch her daughter home; and no
less characteristically forgetting, that there were such things as wet nights
and bad weather to be encountered in almost every week of the year.
`I shall be sorry--truly sorry to leave you, my kind friend,' said Kate, on
whom the good feeling of the poor miniature painter had made a deep impression.
`You shall not shake me off, for all that,' replied Miss La Creevy, with as
much sprightliness as she could assume. `I shall see you very often, and come
and hear how you get on; and if, in all London, or all the wide world besides,
there is no other heart that takes an interest in your welfare, there will be
one little lonely woman that prays for it night and day.'
With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for Gog, the guardian
genius of London, and enough to spare for Magog to boot, after making a great
many extraordinary faces which would have secured her an ample fortune, could
she have transferred them to ivory or canvas, sat down in a corner, and had what
she termed `a real good cry.'
But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep off the dreaded
Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either; who, punctual to his time, limped up
to the door, and breathed a whiff of cordial gin through the keyhole, exactly as
such of the church clocks in the neighbourhood as agreed among themselves about
the time, struck five. Newman waited for the last stroke, and then knocked.
`From Mr Ralph Nickleby,' said Newman, announcing his errand, when he got
upstairs, with all possible brevity.
`We shall be ready directly,' said Kate. `We have not much to carry, but I
fear we must have a coach.'
`I'll get one,' replied Newman.
`Indeed you shall not trouble yourself,' said Mrs Nickleby.
`I will,' said Newman.
`I can't suffer you to think of such a thing,' said Mrs Nickleby.
`You can't help it,' said Newman.
`Not help it!'
`No; I thought of it as I came along; but didn't get one, thinking you
mightn't be ready. I think of a great many things. Nobody can prevent that.'
`Oh yes, I understand you, Mr Noggs,' said Mrs Nickleby. `Our thoughts are
free, of course. Everybody's thoughts are their own, clearly.'
`They wouldn't be, if some people had their way,' muttered Newman.
`Well, no more they would, Mr Noggs, and that's very true,' rejoined Mrs
Nickleby. `Some people to be sure are such--how's your master?'
Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate, and replied with a strong emphasis on
the last word of his answer, that Mr Ralph Nickleby was well, and sent his love.
`I am sure we are very much obliged to him,' observed Mrs Nickleby.
`Very,' said Newman. `I'll tell him so.'
It was no very easy matter to mistake Newman Noggs, after having once seen
him, and as Kate, attracted by the singularity of his manner (in which on this
occasion, however, there was something respectful and even delicate,
notwithstanding the abruptness of his speech), looked at him more closely, she
recollected having caught a passing glimpse of that strange figure before.
`Excuse my curiosity,' she said, `but did I not see you in the coachyard, on
the morning my brother went away to Yorkshire?'
Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs Nickleby and said `No,' most
unblushingly.
`No!' exclaimed Kate, `I should have said so anywhere.'
`You'd have said wrong,' rejoined Newman. `It's the first time I've been out
for three weeks. I've had the gout.'
Newman was very, very far from having the appearance of a gouty subject, and
so Kate could not help thinking; but the conference was cut short by Mrs
Nickleby's insisting on having the door shut, lest Mr Noggs should take cold,
and further persisting in sending the servant girl for a coach, for fear he
should bring on another attack of his disorder. To both conditions, Newman was
compelled to yield. Presently, the coach came; and, after many sorrowful
farewells, and a great deal of running backwards and forwards across the
pavement on the part of Miss La Creevy, in the course of which the yellow turban
came into violent contact with sundry foot-passengers, it (that is to say the
coach, not the turban) went away again, with the two ladies and their luggage
inside; and Newman, despite all Mrs Nickleby's assurances that it would be his
death--on the box beside the driver.
They went into the City, turning down by the river side; and, after a long
and very slow drive, the streets being crowded at that hour with vehicles of
every kind, stopped in front of a large old dingy house in Thames Street: the
door and windows of which were so bespattered with mud, that it would have
appeared to have been uninhabited for years.
The door of this deserted mansion Newman opened with a key which he took out
of his hat--in which, by-the-bye, in consequence of the dilapidated state of his
pockets, he deposited everything, and would most likely have carried his money
if he had had any--and the coach being discharged, he led the way into the
interior of the mansion.
Old, and gloomy, and black, in truth it was, and sullen and dark were the
rooms, once so bustling with life and enterprise. There was a wharf behind,
opening on the Thames. An empty dog-kennel, some bones of animals, fragments of
iron hoops, and staves of old casks, lay strewn about, but no life was stirring
there. It was a picture of cold, silent decay.
`This house depresses and chills one,' said Kate, `and seems as if some
blight had fallen on it. If I were superstitious, I should be almost inclined to
believe that some dreadful crime had been perpetrated within these old walls,
and that the place had never prospered since. How frowning and how dark it
looks!'
`Lord, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, `don't talk in that way, or you'll
frighten me to death.'
`It is only my foolish fancy, mamma,' said Kate, forcing a smile.
`Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish fancy to yourself,
and not wake up my foolish fancy to keep it company,' retorted Mrs Nickleby.
`Why didn't you think of all this before--you are so careless--we might have
asked Miss La Creevy to keep us company or borrowed a dog, or a thousand
things--but it always was the way, and was just the same with your poor dear
father. Unless I thought of everything--' This was Mrs Nickleby's usual
commencement of a general lamentation, running through a dozen or so of
complicated sentences addressed to nobody in particular, and into which she now
launched until her breath was exhausted.
Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but preceded them to a couple of
rooms on the first floor, which some kind of attempt had been made to render
habitable. In one, were a few chairs, a table, an old hearth-rug, and some faded
baize; and a fire was ready laid in the grate. In the other stood an old tent
bedstead, and a few scanty articles of chamber furniture.
`Well, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, trying to be pleased, `now isn't this
thoughtful and considerate of your uncle? Why, we should not have had anything
but the bed we bought yesterday, to lie down upon, if it hadn't been for his
thoughtfulness!'
`Very kind, indeed,' replied Kate, looking round.
Newman Noggs did not say that he had hunted up the old furniture they saw,
from attic and cellar; or that he had taken in the halfpennyworth of milk for
tea that stood upon a shelf, or filled the rusty kettle on the hob, or collected
the woodchips from the wharf, or begged the coals. But the notion of Ralph
Nickleby having directed it to be done, tickled his fancy so much, that he could
not refrain from cracking all his ten fingers in succession: at which
performance Mrs Nickleby was rather startled at first, but supposing it to be in
some remote manner connected with the gout, did not remark upon.
`We need detain you no longer, I think,' said Kate.
`Is there nothing I can do?' asked Newman.
`Nothing, thank you,' rejoined Miss Nickleby.
`Perhaps, my dear, Mr Noggs would like to drink our healths,' said Mrs
Nickleby, fumbling in her reticule for some small coin.
`I think, mamma,' said Kate hesitating, and remarking Newman's averted face,
`you would hurt his feelings if you offered it.'
Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like a gentleman than the
miserable wretch he seemed, placed his hand upon his breast, and, pausing for a
moment, with the air of a man who struggles to speak but is uncertain what to
say, quitted the room.
As the jarring echoes of the heavy house-door, closing on its latch,
reverberated dismally through the building, Kate felt half tempted to call him
back, and beg him to remain a little while; but she was ashamed to own her
fears, and Newman Noggs was on his road homewards.
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