Chapter 11

by Charles Dickens

　　Newman Noggs inducts Mrs and Miss Nickleby into their New Dwellingin the CityMiss Nickleby's reflections, as she wended her way homewards, wereof that desponding nature which the occurrences of the morning hadbeen sufficiently calculated to awaken. Her uncle's was not amanner likely to dispel any doubts or apprehensions she might haveformed, in the outset, neither was the glimpse she had had of MadameMantalini's establishment by any means encouraging. It was withmany gloomy forebodings and misgivings, therefore, that she lookedforward, with a heavy heart, to the opening of her new career.If her mother's consolations could have restored her to a pleasanterand more enviable state of mind, there were abundance of them toproduce the effect. By the time Kate reached home, the good ladyhad called to mind two authentic cases of milliners who had beenpossessed of considerable property, though whether they had acquiredit all in business, or had had a capital to start with, or had beenlucky and married to advantage, she could not exactly remember.However, as she very logically remarked, there must have been someyoung person in that way of business who had made a fortune withouthaving anything to begin with, and that being taken for granted, whyshould not Kate do the same? Miss La Creevy, who was a member ofthe little council, ventured to insinuate some doubts relative tothe probability of Miss Nickleby's arriving at this happyconsummation in the compass of an ordinary lifetime; but the goodlady set that question entirely at rest, by informing them that shehad a presentiment on the subject--a species of second-sight withwhich she had been in the habit of clenching every argument with thedeceased Mr Nickleby, and, in nine cases and three-quarters out ofevery 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 Ifirst began to paint, and I remember that they were all very paleand 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 onethat I was particularly recommended to, to make me a scarlet cloakat the time when scarlet cloaks were fashionable, and she had a veryred 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 Iknow she had a very red face, so your argument goes for nothing.'In this manner, and with like powerful reasoning, did the worthymatron meet every little objection that presented itself to the newscheme of the morning. Happy Mrs Nickleby! A project had but to benew, and it came home to her mind, brightly varnished and gilded asa glittering toy.This question disposed of, Kate communicated her uncle's desireabout the empty house, to which Mrs Nickleby assented with equalreadiness, characteristically remarking, that, on the fine evenings,it would be a pleasant amusement for her to walk to the West end tofetch her daughter home; and no less characteristically forgetting,that there were such things as wet nights and bad weather to beencountered in almost every week of the year.'I shall be sorry--truly sorry to leave you, my kind friend,' saidKate, on whom the good feeling of the poor miniature painter hadmade 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 youvery 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 aninterest in your welfare, there will be one little lonely woman thatprays for it night and day.'With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for Gog, theguardian genius of London, and enough to spare for Magog to boot,after making a great many extraordinary faces which would havesecured her an ample fortune, could she have transferred them toivory or canvas, sat down in a corner, and had what she termed 'areal good cry.'But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing, could keep off thedreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs either; who, punctual tohis time, limped up to the door, and breathed a whiff of cordial ginthrough the keyhole, exactly as such of the church clocks in theneighbourhood as agreed among themselves about the time, struckfive. Newman waited for the last stroke, and then knocked.'From Mr Ralph Nickleby,' said Newman, announcing his errand, whenhe got upstairs, with all possible brevity.'We shall be ready directly,' said Kate. 'We have not much tocarry, 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, thinkingyou mightn't be ready. I think of a great many things. Nobody canprevent that.''Oh yes, I understand you, Mr Noggs,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'Ourthoughts 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,' rejoinedMrs Nickleby. 'Some people to be sure are such--how's your master?'Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate, and replied with a strongemphasis on the last word of his answer, that Mr Ralph Nickleby waswell, 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 havingonce seen him, and as Kate, attracted by the singularity of hismanner (in which on this occasion, however, there was somethingrespectful and even delicate, notwithstanding the abruptness of hisspeech), looked at him more closely, she recollected having caught apassing glimpse of that strange figure before.'Excuse my curiosity,' she said, 'but did I not see you in thecoachyard, on the morning my brother went away to Yorkshire?'Newman cast a wistful glance on Mrs Nickleby and said 'No,' mostunblushingly.'No!' exclaimed Kate, 'I should have said so anywhere.''You'd have said wrong,' rejoined Newman. 'It's the first time I'vebeen out for three weeks. I've had the gout.'Newman was very, very far from having the appearance of a goutysubject, and so Kate could not help thinking; but the conference wascut short by Mrs Nickleby's insisting on having the door shut, lestMr Noggs should take cold, and further persisting in sending theservant girl for a coach, for fear he should bring on another attackof his disorder. To both conditions, Newman was compelled to yield.Presently, the coach came; and, after many sorrowful farewells, anda great deal of running backwards and forwards across the pavementon the part of Miss La Creevy, in the course of which the yellowturban came into violent contact with sundry foot-passengers, it(that is to say the coach, not the turban) went away again, with thetwo ladies and their luggage inside; and Newman, despite all MrsNickleby's assurances that it would be his death--on the box besidethe driver.They went into the city, turning down by the river side; and, aftera long and very slow drive, the streets being crowded at that hourwith vehicles of every kind, stopped in front of a large old dingyhouse in Thames Street: the door and windows of which were sobespattered with mud, that it would have appeared to have beenuninhabited for years.The door of this deserted mansion Newman opened with a key which hetook out of his hat--in which, by-the-bye, in consequence of thedilapidated state of his pockets, he deposited everything, and wouldmost likely have carried his money if he had had any--and the coachbeing discharged, he led the way into the interior of the mansion.Old, and gloomy, and black, in truth it was, and sullen and darkwere the rooms, once so bustling with life and enterprise. Therewas a wharf behind, opening on the Thames. An empty dog-kennel,some bones of animals, fragments of iron hoops, and staves of oldcasks, lay strewn about, but no life was stirring there. It was apicture of cold, silent decay.'This house depresses and chills one,' said Kate, 'and seems as ifsome blight had fallen on it. If I were superstitious, I should bealmost inclined to believe that some dreadful crime had beenperpetrated within these old walls, and that the place had neverprospered since. How frowning and how dark it looks!''Lord, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, 'don't talk in that way, oryou'll frighten me to death.''It is only my foolish fancy, mama,' said Kate, forcing a smile.'Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish fancy toyourself, 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 uscompany or borrowed a dog, or a thousand things--but it always wasthe way, and was just the same with your poor dear father. Unless Ithought of everything--' This was Mrs Nickleby's usual commencementof a general lamentation, running through a dozen or so ofcomplicated sentences addressed to nobody in particular, and intowhich she now launched until her breath was exhausted.Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but preceded them to acouple of rooms on the first floor, which some kind of attempt hadbeen 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 laidin the grate. In the other stood an old tent bedstead, and a fewscanty articles of chamber furniture.'Well, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, trying to be pleased, 'now isn'tthis thoughtful and considerate of your uncle? Why, we should nothave 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 furniturethey saw, from attic and cellar; or that he had taken in thehalfpennyworth of milk for tea that stood upon a shelf, or filledthe rusty kettle on the hob, or collected the woodchips from thewharf, or begged the coals. But the notion of Ralph Nickleby havingdirected it to be done, tickled his fancy so much, that he could notrefrain from cracking all his ten fingers in succession: at whichperformance Mrs Nickleby was rather startled at first, but supposingit to be in some remote manner connected with the gout, did notremark 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,' saidMrs Nickleby, fumbling in her reticule for some small coin.'I think, mama,' said Kate hesitating, and remarking Newman'saverted face, 'you would hurt his feelings if you offered it.'Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like a gentleman thanthe miserable wretch he seemed, placed his hand upon his breast,and, pausing for a moment, with the air of a man who struggles tospeak 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 temptedto call him back, and beg him to remain a little while; but she wasashamed to own her fears, and Newman Noggs was on his road homewards.