Chapter 10

by Charles Dickens

　　How Mr Ralph Nickleby provided for his Niece and Sister-in-LawOn the second morning after the departure of Nicholas for Yorkshire,Kate Nickleby sat in a very faded chair raised upon a very dustythrone in Miss La Creevy's room, giving that lady a sitting for theportrait upon which she was engaged; and towards the full perfectionof which, Miss La Creevy had had the street-door case broughtupstairs, in order that she might be the better able to infuse intothe counterfeit countenance of Miss Nickleby, a bright salmon flesh-tint which she had originally hit upon while executing the miniatureof a young officer therein contained, and which bright salmon flesh-tint was considered, by Miss La Creevy's chief friends and patrons,to be quite a novelty in art: as indeed it was.'I think I have caught it now,' said Miss La Creevy. 'The veryshade! This will be the sweetest portrait I have ever done,certainly.''It will be your genius that makes it so, then, I am sure,' repliedKate, smiling.'No, no, I won't allow that, my dear,' rejoined Miss La Creevy.'It's a very nice subject--a very nice subject, indeed--though, ofcourse, something depends upon the mode of treatment.''And not a little,' observed Kate.'Why, my dear, you are right there,' said Miss La Creevy, 'in themain you are right there; though I don't allow that it is of suchvery great importance in the present case. Ah! The difficulties ofArt, my dear, are great.''They must be, I have no doubt,' said Kate, humouring her good-natured little friend.'They are beyond anything you can form the faintest conception of,'replied Miss La Creevy. 'What with bringing out eyes with all one'spower, and keeping down noses with all one's force, and adding toheads, and taking away teeth altogether, you have no idea of thetrouble one little miniature is.''The remuneration can scarcely repay you,' said Kate.'Why, it does not, and that's the truth,' answered Miss La Creevy;'and then people are so dissatisfied and unreasonable, that, ninetimes out of ten, there's no pleasure in painting them. Sometimesthey say, "Oh, how very serious you have made me look, Miss LaCreevy!" and at others, "La, Miss La Creevy, how very smirking!"when the very essence of a good portrait is, that it must be eitherserious or smirking, or it's no portrait at all.''Indeed!' said Kate, laughing.'Certainly, my dear; because the sitters are always either the oneor the other,' replied Miss La Creevy. 'Look at the Royal Academy!All those beautiful shiny portraits of gentlemen in black velvetwaistcoats, with their fists doubled up on round tables, or marbleslabs, are serious, you know; and all the ladies who are playingwith little parasols, or little dogs, or little children--it's thesame rule in art, only varying the objects--are smirking. In fact,'said Miss La Creevy, sinking her voice to a confidential whisper,'there are only two styles of portrait painting; the serious and thesmirk; and we always use the serious for professional people (exceptactors sometimes), and the smirk for private ladies and gentlemenwho don't care so much about looking clever.'Kate seemed highly amused by this information, and Miss La Creevywent on painting and talking, with immovable complacency.'What a number of officers you seem to paint!' said Kate, availingherself of a pause in the discourse, and glancing round the room.'Number of what, child?' inquired Miss La Creevy, looking up fromher work. 'Character portraits, oh yes--they're not real militarymen, you know.''No!''Bless your heart, of course not; only clerks and that, who hire auniform coat to be painted in, and send it here in a carpet bag.Some artists,' said Miss La Creevy, 'keep a red coat, and chargeseven-and-sixpence extra for hire and carmine; but I don't do thatmyself, for I don't consider it legitimate.'Drawing herself up, as though she plumed herself greatly upon notresorting to these lures to catch sitters, Miss La Creevy appliedherself, more intently, to her task: only raising her headoccasionally, to look with unspeakable satisfaction at some touchshe had just put in: and now and then giving Miss Nickleby tounderstand what particular feature she was at work upon, at themoment; 'not,' she expressly observed, 'that you should make it upfor painting, my dear, but because it's our custom sometimes to tellsitters what part we are upon, in order that if there's anyparticular expression they want introduced, they may throw it in, atthe time, you know.''And when,' said Miss La Creevy, after a long silence, to wit, aninterval of full a minute and a half, 'when do you expect to seeyour uncle again?''I scarcely know; I had expected to have seen him before now,'replied Kate. 'Soon I hope, for this state of uncertainty is worsethan anything.''I suppose he has money, hasn't he?' inquired Miss La Creevy.'He is very rich, I have heard,' rejoined Kate. 'I don't know thathe is, but I believe so.''Ah, you may depend upon it he is, or he wouldn't be so surly,'remarked Miss La Creevy, who was an odd little mixture of shrewdnessand simplicity. 'When a man's a bear, he is generally prettyindependent.''His manner is rough,' said Kate.'Rough!' cried Miss La Creevy, 'a porcupine's a featherbed to him!I never met with such a cross-grained old savage.''It is only his manner, I believe,' observed Kate, timidly; 'he wasdisappointed in early life, I think I have heard, or has had histemper soured by some calamity. I should be sorry to think ill ofhim until I knew he deserved it.''Well; that's very right and proper,' observed the miniaturepainter, 'and Heaven forbid that I should be the cause of your doingso! But, now, mightn't he, without feeling it himself, make you andyour mama some nice little allowance that would keep you bothcomfortable until you were well married, and be a little fortune toher afterwards? What would a hundred a year for instance, be tohim?''I don't know what it would be to him,' said Kate, with energy, 'butit would be that to me I would rather die than take.''Heyday!' cried Miss La Creevy.'A dependence upon him,' said Kate, 'would embitter my whole life.I should feel begging a far less degradation.''Well!' exclaimed Miss La Creevy. 'This of a relation whom you willnot hear an indifferent person speak ill of, my dear, sounds oddlyenough, I confess.''I dare say it does,' replied Kate, speaking more gently, 'indeed Iam sure it must. I--I--only mean that with the feelings andrecollection of better times upon me, I could not bear to live onanybody's bounty--not his particularly, but anybody's.'Miss La Creevy looked slyly at her companion, as if she doubtedwhether Ralph himself were not the subject of dislike, but seeingthat her young friend was distressed, made no remark.'I only ask of him,' continued Kate, whose tears fell while shespoke, 'that he will move so little out of his way, in my behalf, asto enable me by his recommendation--only by his recommendation--toearn, literally, my bread and remain with my mother. Whether weshall ever taste happiness again, depends upon the fortunes of mydear brother; but if he will do this, and Nicholas only tells usthat he is well and cheerful, I shall be contented.'As she ceased to speak, there was a rustling behind the screen whichstood between her and the door, and some person knocked at thewainscot.''Come in, whoever it is!' cried Miss La Creevy.The person complied, and, coming forward at once, gave to view theform and features of no less an individual than Mr Ralph Nicklebyhimself.'Your servant, ladies,' said Ralph, looking sharply at them byturns. 'You were talking so loud, that I was unable to make youhear.'When the man of business had a more than commonly vicious snarllurking at his heart, he had a trick of almost concealing his eyesunder their thick and protruding brows, for an instant, and thendisplaying them in their full keenness. As he did so now, and triedto keep down the smile which parted his thin compressed lips, andpuckered up the bad lines about his mouth, they both felt certainthat some part, if not the whole, of their recent conversation, hadbeen overheard.'I called in, on my way upstairs, more than half expecting to findyou here,' said Ralph, addressing his niece, and lookingcontemptuously at the portrait. 'Is that my niece's portrait,ma'am?''Yes it is, Mr Nickleby,' said Miss La Creevy, with a very sprightlyair, 'and between you and me and the post, sir, it will be a verynice portrait too, though I say it who am the painter.''Don't trouble yourself to show it to me, ma'am,' cried Ralph,moving away, 'I have no eye for likenesses. Is it nearly finished?''Why, yes,' replied Miss La Creevy, considering with the pencil endof her brush in her mouth. 'Two sittings more will--''Have them at once, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'She'll have no time toidle over fooleries after tomorrow. Work, ma'am, work; we must allwork. Have you let your lodgings, ma'am?''I have not put a bill up yet, sir.''Put it up at once, ma'am; they won't want the rooms after thisweek, or if they do, can't pay for them. Now, my dear, if you'reready, we'll lose no more time.'With an assumption of kindness which sat worse upon him even thanhis usual manner, Mr Ralph Nickleby motioned to the young lady toprecede him, and bowing gravely to Miss La Creevy, closed the doorand followed upstairs, where Mrs Nickleby received him with manyexpressions of regard. Stopping them somewhat abruptly, Ralph wavedhis hand with an impatient gesture, and proceeded to the object ofhis visit.'I have found a situation for your daughter, ma'am,' said Ralph.'Well,' replied Mrs Nickleby. 'Now, I will say that that is onlyjust what I have expected of you. "Depend upon it," I said to Kate,only yesterday morning at breakfast, "that after your uncle hasprovided, in that most ready manner, for Nicholas, he will not leaveus until he has done at least the same for you." These were my verywords, as near as I remember. Kate, my dear, why don't you thankyour--''Let me proceed, ma'am, pray,' said Ralph, interrupting his sister-in-law in the full torrent of her discourse.'Kate, my love, let your uncle proceed,' said Mrs Nickleby.'I am most anxious that he should, mama,' rejoined Kate.'Well, my dear, if you are anxious that he should, you had betterallow your uncle to say what he has to say, without interruption,'observed Mrs Nickleby, with many small nods and frowns. 'Youruncle's time is very valuable, my dear; and however desirous you maybe--and naturally desirous, as I am sure any affectionate relationswho have seen so little of your uncle as we have, must naturally beto protract the pleasure of having him among us, still, we arebound not to be selfish, but to take into consideration theimportant nature of his occupations in the city.''I am very much obliged to you, ma'am,' said Ralph with a scarcelyperceptible sneer. 'An absence of business habits in this familyleads, apparently, to a great waste of words before business--whenit does come under consideration--is arrived at, at all.''I fear it is so indeed,' replied Mrs Nickleby with a sigh. 'Yourpoor brother--''My poor brother, ma'am,' interposed Ralph tartly, 'had no idea whatbusiness was--was unacquainted, I verily believe, with the verymeaning of the word.''I fear he was,' said Mrs Nickleby, with her handkerchief to hereyes. 'If it hadn't been for me, I don't know what would havebecome of him.'What strange creatures we are! The slight bait so skilfully thrownout by Ralph, on their first interview, was dangling on the hookyet. At every small deprivation or discomfort which presenteditself in the course of the four-and-twenty hours to remind her ofher straitened and altered circumstances, peevish visions of herdower of one thousand pounds had arisen before Mrs Nickleby's mind,until, at last, she had come to persuade herself that of all herlate husband's creditors she was the worst used and the most to bepitied. And yet, she had loved him dearly for many years, and hadno greater share of selfishness than is the usual lot of mortals.Such is the irritability of sudden poverty. A decent annuity wouldhave restored her thoughts to their old train, at once.'Repining is of no use, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'Of all fruitlesserrands, sending a tear to look after a day that is gone is the mostfruitless.''So it is,' sobbed Mrs Nickleby. 'So it is.''As you feel so keenly, in your own purse and person, theconsequences of inattention to business, ma'am,' said Ralph, 'I amsure you will impress upon your children the necessity of attachingthemselves to it early in life.''Of course I must see that,' rejoined Mrs Nickleby. 'Sadexperience, you know, brother-in-law.--Kate, my dear, put that downin the next letter to Nicholas, or remind me to do it if I write.'Ralph paused for a few moments, and seeing that he had now madepretty sure of the mother, in case the daughter objected to hisproposition, went on to say:'The situation that I have made interest to procure, ma'am, is with--with a milliner and dressmaker, in short.''A milliner!' cried Mrs Nickleby.'A milliner and dressmaker, ma'am,' replied Ralph. 'Dressmakers inLondon, as I need not remind you, ma'am, who are so well acquaintedwith all matters in the ordinary routine of life, make largefortunes, keep equipages, and become persons of great wealth andfortune.'Now, the first idea called up in Mrs Nickleby's mind by the wordsmilliner and dressmaker were connected with certain wicker basketslined with black oilskin, which she remembered to have seen carriedto and fro in the streets; but, as Ralph proceeded, thesedisappeared, and were replaced by visions of large houses at theWest end, neat private carriages, and a banker's book; all of whichimages succeeded each other with such rapidity, that he had nosooner finished speaking, than she nodded her head and said 'Verytrue,' with great appearance of satisfaction.'What your uncle says is very true, Kate, my dear,' said MrsNickleby. 'I recollect when your poor papa and I came to town afterwe were married, that a young lady brought me home a chip cottage-bonnet, with white and green trimming, and green persian lining, inher own carriage, which drove up to the door full gallop;--at least,I am not quite certain whether it was her own carriage or a hackneychariot, but I remember very well that the horse dropped down deadas he was turning round, and that your poor papa said he hadn't hadany corn for a fortnight.'This anecdote, so strikingly illustrative of the opulence ofmilliners, was not received with any great demonstration of feeling,inasmuch as Kate hung down her head while it was relating, and Ralphmanifested very intelligible symptoms of extreme impatience.'The lady's name,' said Ralph, hastily striking in, 'is Mantalini--Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives near Cavendish Square. Ifyour daughter is disposed to try after the situation, I'll take herthere directly.''Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love?' inquired MrsNickleby.'A great deal,' replied Kate; 'but not now. I would rather speak tohim when we are alone;--it will save his time if I thank him and saywhat I wish to say to him, as we walk along.'With these words, Kate hurried away, to hide the traces of emotionthat were stealing down her face, and to prepare herself for thewalk, while Mrs Nickleby amused her brother-in-law by giving him,with many tears, a detailed account of the dimensions of a rosewoodcabinet piano they had possessed in their days of affluence,together with a minute description of eight drawing-room chairs,with turned legs and green chintz squabs to match the curtains,which had cost two pounds fifteen shillings apiece, and had gone atthe sale for a mere nothing.These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate's return in herwalking dress, when Ralph, who had been fretting and fuming duringthe whole time of her absence, lost no time, and used very littleceremony, in descending into the street.'Now,' he said, taking her arm, 'walk as fast as you can, and you'llget into the step that you'll have to walk to business with, everymorning.' So saying, he led Kate off, at a good round pace, towardsCavendish Square.'I am very much obliged to you, uncle,' said the young lady, afterthey had hurried on in silence for some time; 'very.''I'm glad to hear it,' said Ralph. 'I hope you'll do your duty.''I will try to please, uncle,' replied Kate: 'indeed I--''Don't begin to cry,' growled Ralph; 'I hate crying.''It's very foolish, I know, uncle,' began poor Kate.'It is,' replied Ralph, stopping her short, 'and very affectedbesides. Let me see no more of it.'Perhaps this was not the best way to dry the tears of a young andsensitive female, about to make her first entry on an entirely newscene of life, among cold and uninterested strangers; but it had itseffect notwithstanding. Kate coloured deeply, breathed quickly fora few moments, and then walked on with a firmer and more determinedstep.It was a curious contrast to see how the timid country girl shrunkthrough the crowd that hurried up and down the streets, giving wayto the press of people, and clinging closely to Ralph as though shefeared to lose him in the throng; and how the stern and hard-featured man of business went doggedly on, elbowing the passengersaside, and now and then exchanging a gruff salutation with somepassing acquaintance, who turned to look back upon his prettycharge, with looks expressive of surprise, and seemed to wonder atthe ill-assorted companionship. But, it would have been a strangercontrast still, to have read the hearts that were beating side byside; to have laid bare the gentle innocence of the one, and therugged villainy of the other; to have hung upon the guilelessthoughts of the affectionate girl, and been amazed that, among allthe wily plots and calculations of the old man, there should not beone word or figure denoting thought of death or of the grave. Butso it was; and stranger still--though this is a thing of every day--the warm young heart palpitated with a thousand anxieties andapprehensions, while that of the old worldly man lay rusting in itscell, beating only as a piece of cunning mechanism, and yielding noone throb of hope, or fear, or love, or care, for any living thing.'Uncle,' said Kate, when she judged they must be near theirdestination, 'I must ask one question of you. I am to live athome?''At home!' replied Ralph; 'where's that?''I mean with my mother--the widow,' said Kate emphatically.'You will live, to all intents and purposes, here,' rejoined Ralph;'for here you will take your meals, and here you will be frommorning till night--occasionally perhaps till morning again.''But at night, I mean,' said Kate; 'I cannot leave her, uncle. Imust have some place that I can call a home; it will be wherever sheis, you know, and may be a very humble one.''May be!' said Ralph, walking faster, in the impatience provoked bythe remark; 'must be, you mean. May be a humble one! Is the girlmad?''The word slipped from my lips, I did not mean it indeed,' urgedKate.'I hope not,' said Ralph.'But my question, uncle; you have not answered it.''Why, I anticipated something of the kind,' said Ralph; 'and--thoughI object very strongly, mind--have provided against it. I spoke ofyou as an out-of-door worker; so you will go to this home that maybe humble, every night.'There was comfort in this. Kate poured forth many thanks for heruncle's consideration, which Ralph received as if he had deservedthem all, and they arrived without any further conversation at thedressmaker's door, which displayed a very large plate, with MadameMantalini's name and occupation, and was approached by a handsomeflight of steps. There was a shop to the house, but it was let offto an importer of otto of roses. Madame Mantalini's shows-roomswere on the first-floor: a fact which was notified to the nobilityand gentry by the casual exhibition, near the handsomely curtainedwindows, of two or three elegant bonnets of the newest fashion, andsome costly garments in the most approved taste.A liveried footman opened the door, and in reply to Ralph's inquirywhether Madame Mantalini was at home, ushered them, through ahandsome hall and up a spacious staircase, into the show saloon,which comprised two spacious drawing-rooms, and exhibited an immensevariety of superb dresses and materials for dresses: some arrangedon stands, others laid carelessly on sofas, and others again,scattered over the carpet, hanging on the cheval-glasses, ormingling, in some other way, with the rich furniture of variousdescriptions, which was profusely displayed.They waited here a much longer time than was agreeable to Mr RalphNickleby, who eyed the gaudy frippery about him with very littleconcern, and was at length about to pull the bell, when a gentlemansuddenly popped his head into the room, and, seeing somebody there,as suddenly popped it out again.'Here. Hollo!' cried Ralph. 'Who's that?'At the sound of Ralph's voice, the head reappeared, and the mouth,displaying a very long row of very white teeth, uttered in a mincingtone the words, 'Demmit. What, Nickleby! oh, demmit!' Havinguttered which ejaculations, the gentleman advanced, and shook handswith Ralph, with great warmth. He was dressed in a gorgeous morninggown, with a waistcoat and Turkish trousers of the same pattern, apink silk neckerchief, and bright green slippers, and had a verycopious watch-chain wound round his body. Moreover, he had whiskersand a moustache, both dyed black and gracefully curled.'Demmit, you don't mean to say you want me, do you, demmit?' saidthis gentleman, smiting Ralph on the shoulder.'Not yet,' said Ralph, sarcastically.'Ha! ha! demmit,' cried the gentleman; when, wheeling round to laughwith greater elegance, he encountered Kate Nickleby, who wasstanding near.'My niece,' said Ralph.'I remember,' said the gentleman, striking his nose with the knuckleof his forefinger as a chastening for his forgetfulness. 'Demmit, Iremember what you come for. Step this way, Nickleby; my dear, willyou follow me? Ha! ha! They all follow me, Nickleby; always did,demmit, always.'Giving loose to the playfulness of his imagination, after thisfashion, the gentleman led the way to a private sitting-room on thesecond floor, scarcely less elegantly furnished than the apartmentbelow, where the presence of a silver coffee-pot, an egg-shell, andsloppy china for one, seemed to show that he had just breakfasted.'Sit down, my dear,' said the gentleman: first staring Miss Nicklebyout of countenance, and then grinning in delight at the achievement.'This cursed high room takes one's breath away. These infernal skyparlours--I'm afraid I must move, Nickleby.''I would, by all means,' replied Ralph, looking bitterly round.'What a demd rum fellow you are, Nickleby,' said the gentleman, 'thedemdest, longest-headed, queerest-tempered old coiner of gold andsilver ever was--demmit.'Having complimented Ralph to this effect, the gentleman rang thebell, and stared at Miss Nickleby until it was answered, when heleft off to bid the man desire his mistress to come directly; afterwhich, he began again, and left off no more until Madame Mantaliniappeared.The dressmaker was a buxom person, handsomely dressed and rathergood-looking, but much older than the gentleman in the Turkishtrousers, whom she had wedded some six months before. His name wasoriginally Muntle; but it had been converted, by an easy transition,into Mantalini: the lady rightly considering that an Englishappellation would be of serious injury to the business. He hadmarried on his whiskers; upon which property he had previouslysubsisted, in a genteel manner, for some years; and which he hadrecently improved, after patient cultivation by the addition of amoustache, which promised to secure him an easy independence: hisshare in the labours of the business being at present confined tospending the money, and occasionally, when that ran short, drivingto Mr Ralph Nickleby to procure discount--at a percentage--for thecustomers' bills.'My life,' said Mr Mantalini, 'what a demd devil of a time you havebeen!''I didn't even know Mr Nickleby was here, my love,' said MadameMantalini.'Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman must be, mysoul,' remonstrated Mr Mantalini.'My dear,' said Madame, 'that is entirely your fault.''My fault, my heart's joy?''Certainly,' returned the lady; 'what can you expect, dearest, ifyou will not correct the man?''Correct the man, my soul's delight!''Yes; I am sure he wants speaking to, badly enough,' said Madame,pouting.'Then do not vex itself,' said Mr Mantalini; 'he shall be horse-whipped till he cries out demnebly.' With this promise Mr Mantalinikissed Madame Mantalini, and, after that performance, MadameMantalini pulled Mr Mantalini playfully by the ear: which done, theydescended to business.'Now, ma'am,' said Ralph, who had looked on, at all this, with suchscorn as few men can express in looks, 'this is my niece.''Just so, Mr Nickleby,' replied Madame Mantalini, surveying Katefrom head to foot, and back again. 'Can you speak French, child?''Yes, ma'am,' replied Kate, not daring to look up; for she felt thatthe eyes of the odious man in the dressing-gown were directedtowards her.'Like a demd native?' asked the husband.Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned her backupon the questioner, as if addressing herself to make answer to whathis wife might demand.'We keep twenty young women constantly employed in theestablishment,' said Madame.'Indeed, ma'am!' replied Kate, timidly.'Yes; and some of 'em demd handsome, too,' said the master.'Mantalini!' exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.'My senses' idol!' said Mantalini.'Do you wish to break my heart?''Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with--with--withlittle ballet-dancers,' replied Mantalini in a poetical strain.'Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,' said hiswife. 'What can Mr Nickleby think when he hears you?''Oh! Nothing, ma'am, nothing,' replied Ralph. 'I know his amiablenature, and yours,--mere little remarks that give a zest to yourdaily intercourse--lovers' quarrels that add sweetness to thosedomestic joys which promise to last so long--that's all; that'sall.'If an iron door could be supposed to quarrel with its hinges, and tomake a firm resolution to open with slow obstinacy, and grind themto powder in the process, it would emit a pleasanter sound in sodoing, than did these words in the rough and bitter voice in whichthey were uttered by Ralph. Even Mr Mantalini felt their influence,and turning affrighted round, exclaimed: 'What a demd horridcroaking!''You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr Mantalinisays,' observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby.'I do not, ma'am,' said Kate, with quiet contempt.'Mr Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the young women,'continued Madame, looking at her husband, and speaking to Kate. 'Ifhe has seen any of them, he must have seen them in the street, goingto, or returning from, their work, and not here. He was never evenin the room. I do not allow it. What hours of work have you beenaccustomed to?''I have never yet been accustomed to work at all, ma'am,' repliedKate, in a low voice.'For which reason she'll work all the better now,' said Ralph,putting in a word, lest this confession should injure thenegotiation.'I hope so,' returned Madame Mantalini; 'our hours are from nine tonine, with extra work when we're very full of business, for which Iallow payment as overtime.'Kate bowed her head, to intimate that she heard, and was satisfied.'Your meals,' continued Madame Mantalini, 'that is, dinner and tea,you will take here. I should think your wages would average fromfive to seven shillings a week; but I can't give you any certaininformation on that point, until I see what you can do.'Kate bowed her head again.'If you're ready to come,' said Madame Mantalini, 'you had betterbegin on Monday morning at nine exactly, and Miss Knag the forewomanshall then have directions to try you with some easy work at first.Is there anything more, Mr Nickleby?''Nothing more, ma'am,' replied Ralph, rising.'Then I believe that's all,' said the lady. Having arrived at thisnatural conclusion, she looked at the door, as if she wished to begone, but hesitated notwithstanding, as though unwilling to leave toMr Mantalini the sole honour of showing them downstairs. Ralphrelieved her from her perplexity by taking his departure withoutdelay: Madame Mantalini making many gracious inquiries why he nevercame to see them; and Mr Mantalini anathematising the stairs withgreat volubility as he followed them down, in the hope of inducingKate to look round,--a hope, however, which was destined to remainungratified.'There!' said Ralph when they got into the street; 'now you'reprovided for.'Kate was about to thank him again, but he stopped her.'I had some idea,' he said, 'of providing for your mother in apleasant part of the country--(he had a presentation to somealmshouses on the borders of Cornwall, which had occurred to himmore than once)--but as you want to be together, I must do somethingelse for her. She has a little money?''A very little,' replied Kate.'A little will go a long way if it's used sparingly,' said Ralph.'She must see how long she can make it last, living rent free. Youleave your lodgings on Saturday?''You told us to do so, uncle.''Yes; there is a house empty that belongs to me, which I can put youinto till it is let, and then, if nothing else turns up, perhaps Ishall have another. You must live there.''Is it far from here, sir?' inquired Kate.'Pretty well,' said Ralph; 'in another quarter of the town--at theEast end; but I'll send my clerk down to you, at five o'clock onSaturday, to take you there. Goodbye. You know your way? Straighton.'Coldly shaking his niece's hand, Ralph left her at the top of RegentStreet, and turned down a by-thoroughfare, intent on schemes ofmoney-getting. Kate walked sadly back to their lodgings in theStrand.