Chapter 12

by Charles Dickens

　　Whereby the Reader will be enabled to trace the further course ofMiss Fanny Squeer's Love, and to ascertain whether it ran smooth orotherwise.It was a fortunate circumstance for Miss Fanny Squeers, that whenher worthy papa returned home on the night of the small tea-party,he was what the initiated term 'too far gone' to observe thenumerous tokens of extreme vexation of spirit which were plainlyvisible in her countenance. Being, however, of a rather violent andquarrelsome mood in his cups, it is not impossible that he mighthave fallen out with her, either on this or some imaginary topic, ifthe young lady had not, with a foresight and prudence highlycommendable, kept a boy up, on purpose, to bear the first brunt ofthe good gentleman's anger; which, having vented itself in a varietyof kicks and cuffs, subsided sufficiently to admit of his beingpersuaded to go to bed. Which he did with his boots on, and anumbrella under his arm.The hungry servant attended Miss Squeers in her own room accordingto custom, to curl her hair, perform the other little offices of hertoilet, and administer as much flattery as she could get up, for thepurpose; for Miss Squeers was quite lazy enough (and sufficientlyvain and frivolous withal) to have been a fine lady; and it was onlythe arbitrary distinctions of rank and station which prevented herfrom being one.'How lovely your hair do curl tonight, miss!' said the handmaiden.'I declare if it isn't a pity and a shame to brush it out!''Hold your tongue!' replied Miss Squeers wrathfully.Some considerable experience prevented the girl from being at allsurprised at any outbreak of ill-temper on the part of Miss Squeers.Having a half-perception of what had occurred in the course of theevening, she changed her mode of making herself agreeable, andproceeded on the indirect tack.'Well, I couldn't help saying, miss, if you was to kill me for it,'said the attendant, 'that I never see nobody look so vulgar as MissPrice this night.'Miss Squeers sighed, and composed herself to listen.'I know it's very wrong in me to say so, miss,' continued the girl,delighted to see the impression she was making, 'Miss Price being afriend of your'n, and all; but she do dress herself out so, and go onin such a manner to get noticed, that--oh--well, if people only sawthemselves!''What do you mean, Phib?' asked Miss Squeers, looking in her ownlittle glass, where, like most of us, she saw--not herself, but thereflection of some pleasant image in her own brain. 'How you talk!''Talk, miss! It's enough to make a Tom cat talk French grammar,only to see how she tosses her head,' replied the handmaid.'She does toss her head,' observed Miss Squeers, with an air ofabstraction.'So vain, and so very--very plain,' said the girl.'Poor 'Tilda!' sighed Miss Squeers, compassionately.'And always laying herself out so, to get to be admired,' pursuedthe servant. 'Oh, dear! It's positive indelicate.''I can't allow you to talk in that way, Phib,' said Miss Squeers.''Tilda's friends are low people, and if she don't know any better,it's their fault, and not hers.''Well, but you know, miss,' said Phoebe, for which name 'Phib' wasused as a patronising abbreviation, 'if she was only to take copy bya friend--oh! if she only knew how wrong she was, and would but setherself right by you, what a nice young woman she might be in time!''Phib,' rejoined Miss Squeers, with a stately air, 'it's not properfor me to hear these comparisons drawn; they make 'Tilda look acoarse improper sort of person, and it seems unfriendly in me tolisten to them. I would rather you dropped the subject, Phib; atthe same time, I must say, that if 'Tilda Price would take patternby somebody--not me particularly--''Oh yes; you, miss,' interposed Phib.'Well, me, Phib, if you will have it so,' said Miss Squeers. 'Imust say, that if she would, she would be all the better for it.''So somebody else thinks, or I am much mistaken,' said the girlmysteriously.'What do you mean?' demanded Miss Squeers.'Never mind, miss,' replied the girl; 'I know what I know; that'sall.''Phib,' said Miss Squeers dramatically, 'I insist upon yourexplaining yourself. What is this dark mystery? Speak.''Why, if you will have it, miss, it's this,' said the servant girl.'Mr John Browdie thinks as you think; and if he wasn't too far goneto do it creditable, he'd be very glad to be off with Miss Price,and on with Miss Squeers.''Gracious heavens!' exclaimed Miss Squeers, clasping her hands withgreat dignity. 'What is this?''Truth, ma'am, and nothing but truth,' replied the artful Phib.'What a situation!' cried Miss Squeers; 'on the brink ofunconsciously destroying the peace and happiness of my own 'Tilda.What is the reason that men fall in love with me, whether I like itor not, and desert their chosen intendeds for my sake?''Because they can't help it, miss,' replied the girl; 'the reason'splain.' (If Miss Squeers were the reason, it was very plain.)'Never let me hear of it again,' retorted Miss Squeers. 'Never! Doyou hear? 'Tilda Price has faults--many faults--but I wish herwell, and above all I wish her married; for I think it highlydesirable--most desirable from the very nature of her failings--thatshe should be married as soon as possible. No, Phib. Let her haveMr Browdie. I may pity him, poor fellow; but I have a great regardfor 'Tilda, and only hope she may make a better wife than I thinkshe will.'With this effusion of feeling, Miss Squeers went to bed.Spite is a little word; but it represents as strange a jumble offeelings, and compound of discords, as any polysyllable in thelanguage. Miss Squeers knew as well in her heart of hearts thatwhat the miserable serving-girl had said was sheer, coarse, lyingflattery, as did the girl herself; yet the mere opportunity ofventing a little ill-nature against the offending Miss Price, andaffecting to compassionate her weaknesses and foibles, though onlyin the presence of a solitary dependant, was almost as great arelief to her spleen as if the whole had been gospel truth. Nay,more. We have such extraordinary powers of persuasion when they areexerted over ourselves, that Miss Squeers felt quite high-minded andgreat after her noble renunciation of John Browdie's hand, andlooked down upon her rival with a kind of holy calmness andtranquillity, that had a mighty effect in soothing her ruffledfeelings.This happy state of mind had some influence in bringing about areconciliation; for, when a knock came at the front-door next day,and the miller's daughter was announced, Miss Squeers betook herselfto the parlour in a Christian frame of spirit, perfectly beautifulto behold.'Well, Fanny,' said the miller's daughter, 'you see I have come tosee you, although we had some words last night.''I pity your bad passions, 'Tilda,' replied Miss Squeers, 'but Ibear no malice. I am above it.''Don't be cross, Fanny,' said Miss Price. 'I have come to tell yousomething that I know will please you.''What may that be, 'Tilda?' demanded Miss Squeers; screwing up herlips, and looking as if nothing in earth, air, fire, or water, couldafford her the slightest gleam of satisfaction.'This,' rejoined Miss Price. 'After we left here last night Johnand I had a dreadful quarrel.''That doesn't please me,' said Miss Squeers--relaxing into a smilethough.'Lor! I wouldn't think so bad of you as to suppose it did,'rejoined her companion. 'That's not it.''Oh!' said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy. 'Go on.''After a great deal of wrangling, and saying we would never see eachother any more,' continued Miss Price, 'we made it up, and thismorning John went and wrote our names down to be put up, for thefirst time, next Sunday, so we shall be married in three weeks, andI give you notice to get your frock made.'There was mingled gall and honey in this intelligence. The prospectof the friend's being married so soon was the gall, and thecertainty of her not entertaining serious designs upon Nicholas wasthe honey. Upon the whole, the sweet greatly preponderated over thebitter, so Miss Squeers said she would get the frock made, and thatshe hoped 'Tilda might be happy, though at the same time she didn'tknow, and would not have her build too much upon it, for men werestrange creatures, and a great many married women were verymiserable, and wished themselves single again with all their hearts;to which condolences Miss Squeers added others equally calculated toraise her friend's spirits and promote her cheerfulness of mind.'But come now, Fanny,' said Miss Price, 'I want to have a word ortwo with you about young Mr Nickleby.''He is nothing to me,' interrupted Miss Squeers, with hystericalsymptoms. 'I despise him too much!''Oh, you don't mean that, I am sure?' replied her friend. 'Confess,Fanny; don't you like him now?'Without returning any direct reply, Miss Squeers, all at once, fellinto a paroxysm of spiteful tears, and exclaimed that she was awretched, neglected, miserable castaway.'I hate everybody,' said Miss Squeers, 'and I wish that everybodywas dead--that I do.''Dear, dear,' said Miss Price, quite moved by this avowal ofmisanthropical sentiments. 'You are not serious, I am sure.''Yes, I am,' rejoined Miss Squeers, tying tight knots in her pocket-handkerchief and clenching her teeth. 'And I wish I was dead too.There!''Oh! you'll think very differently in another five minutes,' saidMatilda. 'How much better to take him into favour again, than tohurt yourself by going on in that way. Wouldn't it be much nicer,now, to have him all to yourself on good terms, in a company-keeping, love-making, pleasant sort of manner?''I don't know but what it would,' sobbed Miss Squeers. 'Oh!'Tilda, how could you have acted so mean and dishonourable! Iwouldn't have believed it of you, if anybody had told me.''Heyday!' exclaimed Miss Price, giggling. 'One would suppose I hadbeen murdering somebody at least.''Very nigh as bad,' said Miss Squeers passionately.'And all this because I happen to have enough of good looks to makepeople civil to me,' cried Miss Price. 'Persons don't make theirown faces, and it's no more my fault if mine is a good one than itis other people's fault if theirs is a bad one.''Hold your tongue,' shrieked Miss Squeers, in her shrillest tone;'or you'll make me slap you, 'Tilda, and afterwards I should besorry for it!'It is needless to say, that, by this time, the temper of each younglady was in some slight degree affected by the tone of herconversation, and that a dash of personality was infused into thealtercation, in consequence. Indeed, the quarrel, from slightbeginnings, rose to a considerable height, and was assuming a veryviolent complexion, when both parties, falling into a great passionof tears, exclaimed simultaneously, that they had never thought ofbeing spoken to in that way: which exclamation, leading to aremonstrance, gradually brought on an explanation: and the upshotwas, that they fell into each other's arms and vowed eternalfriendship; the occasion in question making the fifty-second time ofrepeating the same impressive ceremony within a twelvemonth.Perfect amicability being thus restored, a dialogue naturally ensuedupon the number and nature of the garments which would beindispensable for Miss Price's entrance into the holy state ofmatrimony, when Miss Squeers clearly showed that a great many morethan the miller could, or would, afford, were absolutely necessary,and could not decently be dispensed with. The young lady then, byan easy digression, led the discourse to her own wardrobe, and afterrecounting its principal beauties at some length, took her friendupstairs to make inspection thereof. The treasures of two drawersand a closet having been displayed, and all the smaller articlestried on, it was time for Miss Price to return home; and as she hadbeen in raptures with all the frocks, and had been stricken quitedumb with admiration of a new pink scarf, Miss Squeers said in highgood humour, that she would walk part of the way with her, for thepleasure of her company; and off they went together: Miss Squeersdilating, as they walked along, upon her father's accomplishments:and multiplying his income by ten, to give her friend some faintnotion of the vast importance and superiority of her family.It happened that that particular time, comprising the short dailyinterval which was suffered to elapse between what was pleasantlycalled the dinner of Mr Squeers's pupils, and their return to thepursuit of useful knowledge, was precisely the hour when Nicholaswas accustomed to issue forth for a melancholy walk, and to brood,as he sauntered listlessly through the village, upon his miserablelot. Miss Squeers knew this perfectly well, but had perhapsforgotten it, for when she caught sight of that young gentlemanadvancing towards them, she evinced many symptoms of surprise andconsternation, and assured her friend that she 'felt fit to dropinto the earth.''Shall we turn back, or run into a cottage?' asked Miss Price. 'Hedon't see us yet.''No, 'Tilda,' replied Miss Squeers, 'it is my duty to go throughwith it, and I will!'As Miss Squeers said this, in the tone of one who has made a highmoral resolution, and was, besides, taken with one or two chokes andcatchings of breath, indicative of feelings at a high pressure, herfriend made no further remark, and they bore straight down uponNicholas, who, walking with his eyes bent upon the ground, was notaware of their approach until they were close upon him; otherwise,he might, perhaps, have taken shelter himself.'Good-morning,' said Nicholas, bowing and passing by.'He is going,' murmured Miss Squeers. 'I shall choke, 'Tilda.''Come back, Mr Nickleby, do!' cried Miss Price, affecting alarm ather friend's threat, but really actuated by a malicious wish to hearwhat Nicholas would say; 'come back, Mr Nickleby!'Mr Nickleby came back, and looked as confused as might be, as heinquired whether the ladies had any commands for him.'Don't stop to talk,' urged Miss Price, hastily; 'but support her onthe other side. How do you feel now, dear?''Better,' sighed Miss Squeers, laying a beaver bonnet of a reddishbrown with a green veil attached, on Mr Nickleby's shoulder. 'Thisfoolish faintness!''Don't call it foolish, dear,' said Miss Price: her bright eyedancing with merriment as she saw the perplexity of Nicholas; 'youhave no reason to be ashamed of it. It's those who are too proud tocome round again, without all this to-do, that ought to be ashamed.''You are resolved to fix it upon me, I see,' said Nicholas, smiling,'although I told you, last night, it was not my fault.''There; he says it was not his fault, my dear,' remarked the wickedMiss Price. 'Perhaps you were too jealous, or too hasty with him?He says it was not his fault. You hear; I think that's apologyenough.''You will not understand me,' said Nicholas. 'Pray dispense withthis jesting, for I have no time, and really no inclination, to bethe subject or promoter of mirth just now.''What do you mean?' asked Miss Price, affecting amazement.'Don't ask him, 'Tilda,' cried Miss Squeers; 'I forgive him.''Dear me,' said Nicholas, as the brown bonnet went down on hisshoulder again, 'this is more serious than I supposed. Allow me!Will you have the goodness to hear me speak?'Here he raised up the brown bonnet, and regarding with mostunfeigned astonishment a look of tender reproach from Miss Squeers,shrunk back a few paces to be out of the reach of the fair burden,and went on to say:'I am very sorry--truly and sincerely sorry--for having been thecause of any difference among you, last night. I reproach myself,most bitterly, for having been so unfortunate as to cause thedissension that occurred, although I did so, I assure you, mostunwittingly and heedlessly.''Well; that's not all you have got to say surely,' exclaimed MissPrice as Nicholas paused.'I fear there is something more,' stammered Nicholas with a half-smile, and looking towards Miss Squeers, 'it is a most awkward thingto say--but--the very mention of such a supposition makes one looklike a puppy--still--may I ask if that lady supposes that Ientertain any--in short, does she think that I am in love with her?''Delightful embarrassment,' thought Miss Squeers, 'I have broughthim to it, at last. Answer for me, dear,' she whispered to herfriend.'Does she think so?' rejoined Miss Price; 'of course she does.''She does!' exclaimed Nicholas with such energy of utterance asmight have been, for the moment, mistaken for rapture.'Certainly,' replied Miss Price'If Mr Nickleby has doubted that, 'Tilda,' said the blushing MissSqueers in soft accents, 'he may set his mind at rest. Hissentiments are recipro--''Stop,' cried Nicholas hurriedly; 'pray hear me. This is thegrossest and wildest delusion, the completest and most signalmistake, that ever human being laboured under, or committed. I havescarcely seen the young lady half-a-dozen times, but if I had seenher sixty times, or am destined to see her sixty thousand, it wouldbe, and will be, precisely the same. I have not one thought, wish,or hope, connected with her, unless it be--and I say this, not tohurt her feelings, but to impress her with the real state of my own--unless it be the one object, dear to my heart as life itself, ofbeing one day able to turn my back upon this accursed place, neverto set foot in it again, or think of it--even think of it--but withloathing and disgust.'With this particularly plain and straightforward declaration, whichhe made with all the vehemence that his indignant and excitedfeelings could bring to bear upon it, Nicholas waiting to hear nomore, retreated.But poor Miss Squeers! Her anger, rage, and vexation; the rapidsuccession of bitter and passionate feelings that whirled throughher mind; are not to be described. Refused! refused by a teacher,picked up by advertisement, at an annual salary of five poundspayable at indefinite periods, and 'found' in food and lodging likethe very boys themselves; and this too in the presence of a littlechit of a miller's daughter of eighteen, who was going to bemarried, in three weeks' time, to a man who had gone down on hisvery knees to ask her. She could have choked in right good earnest,at the thought of being so humbled.But, there was one thing clear in the midst of her mortification;and that was, that she hated and detested Nicholas with all thenarrowness of mind and littleness of purpose worthy a descendant ofthe house of Squeers. And there was one comfort too; and that was,that every hour in every day she could wound his pride, and goad himwith the infliction of some slight, or insult, or deprivation, whichcould not but have some effect on the most insensible person, andmust be acutely felt by one so sensitive as Nicholas. With thesetwo reflections uppermost in her mind, Miss Squeers made the best ofthe matter to her friend, by observing that Mr Nickleby was such anodd creature, and of such a violent temper, that she feared sheshould be obliged to give him up; and parted from her.And here it may be remarked, that Miss Squeers, having bestowed heraffections (or whatever it might be that, in the absence of anythingbetter, represented them) on Nicholas Nickleby, had never onceseriously contemplated the possibility of his being of a differentopinion from herself in the business. Miss Squeers reasoned thatshe was prepossessing and beautiful, and that her father was master,and Nicholas man, and that her father had saved money, and Nicholashad none, all of which seemed to her conclusive arguments why theyoung man should feel only too much honoured by her preference. Shehad not failed to recollect, either, how much more agreeable shecould render his situation if she were his friend, and how much moredisagreeable if she were his enemy; and, doubtless, many lessscrupulous young gentlemen than Nicholas would have encouraged herextravagance had it been only for this very obvious and intelligiblereason. However, he had thought proper to do otherwise, and MissSqueers was outrageous.'Let him see,' said the irritated young lady, when she had regainedher own room, and eased her mind by committing an assault on Phib,'if I don't set mother against him a little more when she comesback!'It was scarcely necessary to do this, but Miss Squeers was as goodas her word; and poor Nicholas, in addition to bad food, dirtylodging, and the being compelled to witness one dull unvarying roundof squalid misery, was treated with every special indignity thatmalice could suggest, or the most grasping cupidity put upon him.Nor was this all. There was another and deeper system of annoyancewhich made his heart sink, and nearly drove him wild, by itsinjustice and cruelty.The wretched creature, Smike, since the night Nicholas had spokenkindly to him in the schoolroom, had followed him to and fro, withan ever-restless desire to serve or help him; anticipating suchlittle wants as his humble ability could supply, and content only tobe near him. He would sit beside him for hours, looking patientlyinto his face; and a word would brighten up his care-worn visage,and call into it a passing gleam, even of happiness. He was analtered being; he had an object now; and that object was, to showhis attachment to the only person--that person a stranger--who hadtreated him, not to say with kindness, but like a human creature.Upon this poor being, all the spleen and ill-humour that could notbe vented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed. Drudgery wouldhave been nothing--Smike was well used to that. Buffetingsinflicted without cause, would have been equally a matter of course;for to them also he had served a long and weary apprenticeship; butit was no sooner observed that he had become attached to Nicholas,than stripes and blows, stripes and blows, morning, noon, and night,were his only portion. Squeers was jealous of the influence whichhis man had so soon acquired, and his family hated him, and Smikepaid for both. Nicholas saw it, and ground his teeth at everyrepetition of the savage and cowardly attack.He had arranged a few regular lessons for the boys; and one night,as he paced up and down the dismal schoolroom, his swollen heartalmost bursting to think that his protection and countenance shouldhave increased the misery of the wretched being whose peculiardestitution had awakened his pity, he paused mechanically in a darkcorner where sat the object of his thoughts.The poor soul was poring hard over a tattered book, with the tracesof recent tears still upon his face; vainly endeavouring to mastersome task which a child of nine years old, possessed of ordinarypowers, could have conquered with ease, but which, to the addledbrain of the crushed boy of nineteen, was a sealed and hopelessmystery. Yet there he sat, patiently conning the page again andagain, stimulated by no boyish ambition, for he was the common jestand scoff even of the uncouth objects that congregated about him,but inspired by the one eager desire to please his solitary friend.Nicholas laid his hand upon his shoulder.'I can't do it,' said the dejected creature, looking up with bitterdisappointment in every feature. 'No, no.''Do not try,' replied Nicholas.The boy shook his head, and closing the book with a sigh, lookedvacantly round, and laid his head upon his arm. He was weeping.'Do not for God's sake,' said Nicholas, in an agitated voice; 'Icannot bear to see you.''They are more hard with me than ever,' sobbed the boy.'I know it,' rejoined Nicholas. 'They are.''But for you,' said the outcast, 'I should die. They would kill me;they would; I know they would.''You will do better, poor fellow,' replied Nicholas, shaking hishead mournfully, 'when I am gone.''Gone!' cried the other, looking intently in his face.'Softly!' rejoined Nicholas. 'Yes.''Are you going?' demanded the boy, in an earnest whisper.'I cannot say,' replied Nicholas. 'I was speaking more to my ownthoughts, than to you.''Tell me,' said the boy imploringly, 'oh do tell me, will you go--will you?''I shall be driven to that at last!' said Nicholas. 'The world isbefore me, after all.''Tell me,' urged Smike, 'is the world as bad and dismal as thisplace?''Heaven forbid,' replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of his ownthoughts; 'its hardest, coarsest toil, were happiness to this.''Should I ever meet you there?' demanded the boy, speaking withunusual wildness and volubility.'Yes,' replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him.'No, no!' said the other, clasping him by the hand. 'Should I--should I--tell me that again. Say I should be sure to find you.''You would,' replied Nicholas, with the same humane intention, 'andI would help and aid you, and not bring fresh sorrow on you as Ihave done here.'The boy caught both the young man's hands passionately in his, and,hugging them to his breast, uttered a few broken sounds which wereunintelligible. Squeers entered at the moment, and he shrunk backinto his old corner.