Chapter 27

by Charles Dickens

　　Mrs Nickleby becomes acquainted with Messrs Pyke and Pluck, whoseAffection and Interest are beyond all BoundsMrs Nickleby had not felt so proud and important for many a day, aswhen, on reaching home, she gave herself wholly up to the pleasantvisions which had accompanied her on her way thither. Lady MulberryHawk--that was the prevalent idea. Lady Mulberry Hawk!--On Tuesdaylast, at St George's, Hanover Square, by the Right Reverend theBishop of Llandaff, Sir Mulberry Hawk, of Mulberry Castle, NorthWales, to Catherine, only daughter of the late Nicholas Nickleby,Esquire, of Devonshire. 'Upon my word!' cried Mrs NicholasNickleby, 'it sounds very well.'Having dispatched the ceremony, with its attendant festivities, tothe perfect satisfaction of her own mind, the sanguine motherpictured to her imagination a long train of honours and distinctionswhich could not fail to accompany Kate in her new and brilliantsphere. She would be presented at court, of course. On theanniversary of her birthday, which was upon the nineteenth of July('at ten minutes past three o'clock in the morning,' thought MrsNickleby in a parenthesis, 'for I recollect asking what o'clock itwas'), Sir Mulberry would give a great feast to all his tenants, andwould return them three and a half per cent on the amount of theirlast half-year's rent, as would be fully described and recorded inthe fashionable intelligence, to the immeasurable delight andadmiration of all the readers thereof. Kate's picture, too, wouldbe in at least half-a-dozen of the annuals, and on the opposite pagewould appear, in delicate type, 'Lines on contemplating the Portraitof Lady Mulberry Hawk. By Sir Dingleby Dabber.' Perhaps some oneannual, of more comprehensive design than its fellows, might evencontain a portrait of the mother of Lady Mulberry Hawk, with linesby the father of Sir Dingleby Dabber. More unlikely things had cometo pass. Less interesting portraits had appeared. As this thoughtoccurred to the good lady, her countenance unconsciously assumedthat compound expression of simpering and sleepiness which, beingcommon to all such portraits, is perhaps one reason why they arealways so charming and agreeable.With such triumphs of aerial architecture did Mrs Nickleby occupythe whole evening after her accidental introduction to Ralph'stitled friends; and dreams, no less prophetic and equally promising,haunted her sleep that night. She was preparing for her frugaldinner next day, still occupied with the same ideas--a littlesoftened down perhaps by sleep and daylight--when the girl whoattended her, partly for company, and partly to assist in thehousehold affairs, rushed into the room in unwonted agitation, andannounced that two gentlemen were waiting in the passage forpermission to walk upstairs.'Bless my heart!' cried Mrs Nickleby, hastily arranging her cap andfront, 'if it should be--dear me, standing in the passage all thistime--why don't you go and ask them to walk up, you stupid thing?'While the girl was gone on this errand, Mrs Nickleby hastily sweptinto a cupboard all vestiges of eating and drinking; which she hadscarcely done, and seated herself with looks as collected as shecould assume, when two gentlemen, both perfect strangers, presentedthemselves.'How do you do?' said one gentleman, laying great stress on the lastword of the inquiry.'How do you do?' said the other gentleman, altering the emphasis, asif to give variety to the salutation.Mrs Nickleby curtseyed and smiled, and curtseyed again, andremarked, rubbing her hands as she did so, that she hadn't the--really--the honour to--'To know us,' said the first gentleman. 'The loss has been ours,Mrs Nickleby. Has the loss been ours, Pyke?''It has, Pluck,' answered the other gentleman.'We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pyke?' said the firstgentleman.'Very often, Pluck,' answered the second.'But now,' said the first gentleman, 'now we have the happiness wehave pined and languished for. Have we pined and languished forthis happiness, Pyke, or have we not?''You know we have, Pluck,' said Pyke, reproachfully.'You hear him, ma'am?' said Mr Pluck, looking round; 'you hear theunimpeachable testimony of my friend Pyke--that reminds me,--formalities, formalities, must not be neglected in civilisedsociety. Pyke--Mrs Nickleby.'Mr Pyke laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed low.'Whether I shall introduce myself with the same formality,' said MrPluck--'whether I shall say myself that my name is Pluck, or whetherI shall ask my friend Pyke (who being now regularly introduced, iscompetent to the office) to state for me, Mrs Nickleby, that my nameis Pluck; whether I shall claim your acquaintance on the plainground of the strong interest I take in your welfare, or whether Ishall make myself known to you as the friend of Sir Mulberry Hawk--these, Mrs Nickleby, are considerations which I leave to you todetermine.''Any friend of Sir Mulberry Hawk's requires no better introductionto me,' observed Mrs Nickleby, graciously.'It is delightful to hear you say so,' said Mr Pluck, drawing achair close to Mrs Nickleby, and sitting himself down. 'It isrefreshing to know that you hold my excellent friend, Sir Mulberry,in such high esteem. A word in your ear, Mrs Nickleby. When SirMulberry knows it, he will be a happy man--I say, Mrs Nickleby, ahappy man. Pyke, be seated.''My good opinion,' said Mrs Nickleby, and the poor lady exulted inthe idea that she was marvellously sly,--'my good opinion can be ofvery little consequence to a gentleman like Sir Mulberry.''Of little consequence!' exclaimed Mr Pluck. 'Pyke, of whatconsequence to our friend, Sir Mulberry, is the good opinion of MrsNickleby?''Of what consequence?' echoed Pyke.'Ay,' repeated Pluck; 'is it of the greatest consequence?''Of the very greatest consequence,' replied Pyke.'Mrs Nickleby cannot be ignorant,' said Mr Pluck, 'of the immenseimpression which that sweet girl has--''Pluck!' said his friend, 'beware!''Pyke is right,' muttered Mr Pluck, after a short pause; 'I was notto mention it. Pyke is very right. Thank you, Pyke.''Well now, really,' thought Mrs Nickleby within herself. 'Suchdelicacy as that, I never saw!'Mr Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great embarrassmentfor some minutes, resumed the conversation by entreating MrsNickleby to take no heed of what he had inadvertently said--toconsider him imprudent, rash, injudicious. The only stipulation hewould make in his own favour was, that she should give him creditfor the best intentions.'But when,' said Mr Pluck, 'when I see so much sweetness and beautyon the one hand, and so much ardour and devotion on the other, I--pardon me, Pyke, I didn't intend to resume that theme. Change thesubject, Pyke.''We promised Sir Mulberry and Lord Frederick,' said Pyke, 'that we'dcall this morning and inquire whether you took any cold last night.''Not the least in the world last night, sir,' replied Mrs Nickleby,'with many thanks to his lordship and Sir Mulberry for doing me thehonour to inquire; not the least--which is the more singular, as Ireally am very subject to colds, indeed--very subject. I had a coldonce,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I think it was in the year eighteenhundred and seventeen; let me see, four and five are nine, and--yes,eighteen hundred and seventeen, that I thought I never should getrid of; actually and seriously, that I thought I never should getrid of. I was only cured at last by a remedy that I don't knowwhether you ever happened to hear of, Mr Pluck. You have a gallonof water as hot as you can possibly bear it, with a pound of salt,and sixpen'orth of the finest bran, and sit with your head in it fortwenty minutes every night just before going to bed; at least, Idon't mean your head--your feet. It's a most extraordinary cure--amost extraordinary cure. I used it for the first time, I recollect,the day after Christmas Day, and by the middle of April followingthe cold was gone. It seems quite a miracle when you come to thinkof it, for I had it ever since the beginning of September.''What an afflicting calamity!' said Mr Pyke.'Perfectly horrid!' exclaimed Mr Pluck.'But it's worth the pain of hearing, only to know that Mrs Nicklebyrecovered it, isn't it, Pluck?' cried Mr Pyke.'That is the circumstance which gives it such a thrilling interest,'replied Mr Pluck.'But come,' said Pyke, as if suddenly recollecting himself; 'we mustnot forget our mission in the pleasure of this interview. We comeon a mission, Mrs Nickleby.''On a mission,' exclaimed that good lady, to whose mind a definiteproposal of marriage for Kate at once presented itself in livelycolours.'From Sir Mulberry,' replied Pyke. 'You must be very dull here.''Rather dull, I confess,' said Mrs Nickleby.'We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a thousandentreaties that you'll take a seat in a private box at the playtonight,' said Mr Pluck.'Oh dear!' said Mrs Nickleby, 'I never go out at all, never.''And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs Nickleby, why you shouldgo out tonight,' retorted Mr Pluck. 'Pyke, entreat Mrs Nickleby.''Oh, pray do,' said Pyke.'You positively must,' urged Pluck.'You are very kind,' said Mrs Nickleby, hesitating; 'but--''There's not a but in the case, my dear Mrs Nickleby,' remonstratedMr Pluck; 'not such a word in the vocabulary. Your brother-in-lawjoins us, Lord Frederick joins us, Sir Mulberry joins us, Pyke joinsus--a refusal is out of the question. Sir Mulberry sends acarriage for you--twenty minutes before seven to the moment--you'llnot be so cruel as to disappoint the whole party, Mrs Nickleby?''You are so very pressing, that I scarcely know what to say,'replied the worthy lady.'Say nothing; not a word, not a word, my dearest madam,' urged MrPluck. 'Mrs Nickleby,' said that excellent gentleman, lowering hisvoice, 'there is the most trifling, the most excusable breach ofconfidence in what I am about to say; and yet if my friend Pykethere overheard it--such is that man's delicate sense of honour, MrsNickleby--he'd have me out before dinner-time.'Mrs Nickleby cast an apprehensive glance at the warlike Pyke, whohad walked to the window; and Mr Pluck, squeezing her hand, went on:'Your daughter has made a conquest--a conquest on which I maycongratulate you. Sir Mulberry, my dear ma'am, Sir Mulberry is herdevoted slave. Hem!''Hah!' cried Mr Pyke at this juncture, snatching something from thechimney-piece with a theatrical air. 'What is this! what do Ibehold!''What do you behold, my dear fellow?' asked Mr Pluck.'It is the face, the countenance, the expression,' cried Mr Pyke,falling into his chair with a miniature in his hand; 'feeblyportrayed, imperfectly caught, but still the face, the countenance,the expression.''I recognise it at this distance!' exclaimed Mr Pluck in a fit ofenthusiasm. 'Is it not, my dear madam, the faint similitude of--''It is my daughter's portrait,' said Mrs Nickleby, with great pride.And so it was. And little Miss La Creevy had brought it home forinspection only two nights before.Mr Pyke no sooner ascertained that he was quite right in hisconjecture, than he launched into the most extravagant encomiums ofthe divine original; and in the warmth of his enthusiasm kissed thepicture a thousand times, while Mr Pluck pressed Mrs Nickleby's handto his heart, and congratulated her on the possession of such adaughter, with so much earnestness and affection, that the tearsstood, or seemed to stand, in his eyes. Poor Mrs Nickleby, who hadlistened in a state of enviable complacency at first, became atlength quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for, andattachment to, the family; and even the servant girl, who had peepedin at the door, remained rooted to the spot in astonishment at theecstasies of the two friendly visitors.By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs Nickleby went on toentertain her guests with a lament over her fallen fortunes, and apicturesque account of her old house in the country: comprising afull description of the different apartments, not forgetting thelittle store-room, and a lively recollection of how many steps youwent down to get into the garden, and which way you turned when youcame out at the parlour door, and what capital fixtures there werein the kitchen. This last reflection naturally conducted her intothe wash-house, where she stumbled upon the brewing utensils, amongwhich she might have wandered for an hour, if the mere mention ofthose implements had not, by an association of ideas, instantlyreminded Mr Pyke that he was 'amazing thirsty.''And I'll tell you what,' said Mr Pyke; 'if you'll send round to thepublic-house for a pot of milk half-and-half, positively andactually I'll drink it.'And positively and actually Mr Pyke did drink it, and Mr Pluckhelped him, while Mrs Nickleby looked on in divided admiration ofthe condescension of the two, and the aptitude with which theyaccommodated themselves to the pewter-pot; in explanation of whichseeming marvel it may be here observed, that gentlemen who, likeMessrs Pyke and Pluck, live upon their wits (or not so much,perhaps, upon the presence of their own wits as upon the absence ofwits in other people) are occasionally reduced to very narrow shiftsand straits, and are at such periods accustomed to regale themselvesin a very simple and primitive manner.'At twenty minutes before seven, then,' said Mr Pyke, rising, 'thecoach will be here. One more look--one little look--at that sweetface. Ah! here it is. Unmoved, unchanged!' This, by the way, was avery remarkable circumstance, miniatures being liable to so manychanges of expression--'Oh, Pluck! Pluck!'Mr Pluck made no other reply than kissing Mrs Nickleby's hand with agreat show of feeling and attachment; Mr Pyke having done the same,both gentlemen hastily withdrew.Mrs Nickleby was commonly in the habit of giving herself credit fora pretty tolerable share of penetration and acuteness, but she hadnever felt so satisfied with her own sharp-sightedness as she didthat day. She had found it all out the night before. She had neverseen Sir Mulberry and Kate together--never even heard Sir Mulberry'sname--and yet hadn't she said to herself from the very first, thatshe saw how the case stood? and what a triumph it was, for therewas now no doubt about it. If these flattering attentions toherself were not sufficient proofs, Sir Mulberry's confidentialfriend had suffered the secret to escape him in so many words. 'Iam quite in love with that dear Mr Pluck, I declare I am,' said MrsNickleby.There was one great source of uneasiness in the midst of this goodfortune, and that was the having nobody by, to whom she couldconfide it. Once or twice she almost resolved to walk straight toMiss La Creevy's and tell it all to her. 'But I don't know,'thought Mrs Nickleby; 'she is a very worthy person, but I am afraidtoo much beneath Sir Mulberry's station for us to make a companionof. Poor thing!' Acting upon this grave consideration she rejectedthe idea of taking the little portrait painter into her confidence,and contented herself with holding out sundry vague and mysterioushopes of preferment to the servant girl, who received these obscurehints of dawning greatness with much veneration and respect.Punctual to its time came the promised vehicle, which was no hackneycoach, but a private chariot, having behind it a footman, whoselegs, although somewhat large for his body, might, as mere abstractlegs, have set themselves up for models at the Royal Academy. Itwas quite exhilarating to hear the clash and bustle with which hebanged the door and jumped up behind after Mrs Nickleby was in; andas that good lady was perfectly unconscious that he applied thegold-headed end of his long stick to his nose, and so telegraphedmost disrespectfully to the coachman over her very head, she sat ina state of much stiffness and dignity, not a little proud of herposition.At the theatre entrance there was more banging and more bustle, andthere were also Messrs Pyke and Pluck waiting to escort her to herbox; and so polite were they, that Mr Pyke threatened with manyoaths to 'smifligate' a very old man with a lantern who accidentallystumbled in her way--to the great terror of Mrs Nickleby, who,conjecturing more from Mr Pyke's excitement than any previousacquaintance with the etymology of the word that smifligation andbloodshed must be in the main one and the same thing, was alarmedbeyond expression, lest something should occur. Fortunately,however, Mr Pyke confined himself to mere verbal smifligation, andthey reached their box with no more serious interruption by the way,than a desire on the part of the same pugnacious gentleman to'smash' the assistant box-keeper for happening to mistake thenumber.Mrs Nickleby had scarcely been put away behind the curtain of thebox in an armchair, when Sir Mulberry and Lord Verisopht arrived,arrayed from the crowns of their heads to the tips of their gloves,and from the tips of their gloves to the toes of their boots, in themost elegant and costly manner. Sir Mulberry was a little hoarserthan on the previous day, and Lord Verisopht looked rather sleepyand queer; from which tokens, as well as from the circumstance oftheir both being to a trifling extent unsteady upon their legs, MrsNickleby justly concluded that they had taken dinner.'We have been--we have been--toasting your lovely daughter, MrsNickleby,' whispered Sir Mulberry, sitting down behind her.'Oh, ho!' thought that knowing lady; 'wine in, truth out.--You arevery kind, Sir Mulberry.''No, no upon my soul!' replied Sir Mulberry Hawk. 'It's you that'skind, upon my soul it is. It was so kind of you to come tonight.''So very kind of you to invite me, you mean, Sir Mulberry,' repliedMrs Nickleby, tossing her head, and looking prodigiously sly.'I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate your goodopinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious kind ofharmonious family understanding between us,' said Sir Mulberry,'that you mustn't think I'm disinterested in what I do. I'minfernal selfish; I am--upon my soul I am.''I am sure you can't be selfish, Sir Mulberry!' replied MrsNickleby. 'You have much too open and generous a countenance forthat.''What an extraordinary observer you are!' said Sir Mulberry Hawk.'Oh no, indeed, I don't see very far into things, Sir Mulberry,'replied Mrs Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left the baronet toinfer that she saw very far indeed.'I am quite afraid of you,' said the baronet. 'Upon my soul,'repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his companions; 'I am afraidof Mrs Nickleby. She is so immensely sharp.'Messrs Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously, and observedtogether that they had found that out long ago; upon which MrsNickleby tittered, and Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pyke and Pluckroared.'But where's my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry?' inquired MrsNickleby. 'I shouldn't be here without him. I hope he's coming.''Pyke,' said Sir Mulberry, taking out his toothpick and lolling backin his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a reply to thisquestion. 'Where's Ralph Nickleby?''Pluck,' said Pyke, imitating the baronet's action, and turning thelie over to his friend, 'where's Ralph Nickleby?'Mr Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when the hustlecaused by a party entering the next box seemed to attract theattention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged glances of muchmeaning. The new party beginning to converse together, Sir Mulberrysuddenly assumed the character of a most attentive listener, andimplored his friends not to breathe--not to breathe.'Why not?' said Mrs Nickleby. 'What is the matter?''Hush!' replied Sir Mulberry, laying his hand on her arm. 'LordFrederick, do you recognise the tones of that voice?''Deyvle take me if I didn't think it was the voice of MissNickleby.''Lor, my lord!' cried Miss Nickleby's mama, thrusting her headround the curtain. 'Why actually--Kate, my dear, Kate.''You here, mama! Is it possible!''Possible, my dear? Yes.''Why who--who on earth is that you have with you, mama?' said Kate,shrinking back as she caught sight of a man smiling and kissing hishand.'Who do you suppose, my dear?' replied Mrs Nickleby, bending towardsMrs Wititterly, and speaking a little louder for that lady'sedification. 'There's Mr Pyke, Mr Pluck, Sir Mulberry Hawk, andLord Frederick Verisopht.''Gracious Heaven!' thought Kate hurriedly. 'How comes she in suchsociety?'Now, Kate thought thus so hurriedly, and the surprise was so great,and moreover brought back so forcibly the recollection of what hadpassed at Ralph's delectable dinner, that she turned extremely paleand appeared greatly agitated, which symptoms being observed by MrsNickleby, were at once set down by that acute lady as being causedand occasioned by violent love. But, although she was in no smalldegree delighted by this discovery, which reflected so much crediton her own quickness of perception, it did not lessen her motherlyanxiety in Kate's behalf; and accordingly, with a vast quantity oftrepidation, she quitted her own box to hasten into that of MrsWititterly. Mrs Wititterly, keenly alive to the glory of having alord and a baronet among her visiting acquaintance, lost no time insigning to Mr Wititterly to open the door, and thus it was that inless than thirty seconds Mrs Nickleby's party had made an irruptioninto Mrs Wititterly's box, which it filled to the very door, therebeing in fact only room for Messrs Pyke and Pluck to get in theirheads and waistcoats.'My dear Kate,' said Mrs Nickleby, kissing her daughteraffectionately. 'How ill you looked a moment ago! You quitefrightened me, I declare!''It was mere fancy, mama,--the--the--reflection of the lightsperhaps,' replied Kate, glancing nervously round, and finding itimpossible to whisper any caution or explanation.'Don't you see Sir Mulberry Hawk, my dear?'Kate bowed slightly, and biting her lip turned her head towards thestage.But Sir Mulberry Hawk was not to be so easily repulsed, for headvanced with extended hand; and Mrs Nickleby officiously informingKate of this circumstance, she was obliged to extend her own. SirMulberry detained it while he murmured a profusion of compliments,which Kate, remembering what had passed between them, rightlyconsidered as so many aggravations of the insult he had already putupon her. Then followed the recognition of Lord Verisopht, and thenthe greeting of Mr Pyke, and then that of Mr Pluck, and finally, tocomplete the young lady's mortification, she was compelled at MrsWititterly's request to perform the ceremony of introducing theodious persons, whom she regarded with the utmost indignation andabhorrence.'Mrs Wititterly is delighted,' said Mr Wititterly, rubbing hishands; 'delighted, my lord, I am sure, with this opportunity ofcontracting an acquaintance which, I trust, my lord, we shallimprove. Julia, my dear, you must not allow yourself to be too muchexcited, you must not. Indeed you must not. Mrs Wititterly is of amost excitable nature, Sir Mulberry. The snuff of a candle, thewick of a lamp, the bloom on a peach, the down on a butterfly. Youmight blow her away, my lord; you might blow her away.'Sir Mulberry seemed to think that it would be a great convenience ifthe lady could be blown away. He said, however, that the delightwas mutual, and Lord Verisopht added that it was mutual, whereuponMessrs Pyke and Pluck were heard to murmur from the distance that itwas very mutual indeed.'I take an interest, my lord,' said Mrs Wititterly, with a faintsmile, 'such an interest in the drama.''Ye--es. It's very interesting,' replied Lord Verisopht.'I'm always ill after Shakespeare,' said Mrs Wititterly. 'Iscarcely exist the next day; I find the reaction so very great aftera tragedy, my lord, and Shakespeare is such a delicious creature.''Ye--es!' replied Lord Verisopht. 'He was a clayver man.''Do you know, my lord,' said Mrs Wititterly, after a long silence,'I find I take so much more interest in his plays, after having beento that dear little dull house he was born in! Were you ever there,my lord?''No, nayver,' replied Verisopht.'Then really you ought to go, my lord,' returned Mrs Wititterly, invery languid and drawling accents. 'I don't know how it is, butafter you've seen the place and written your name in the littlebook, somehow or other you seem to be inspired; it kindles up quitea fire within one.''Ye--es!' replied Lord Verisopht, 'I shall certainly go there.''Julia, my life,' interposed Mr Wititterly, 'you are deceiving hislordship--unintentionally, my lord, she is deceiving you. It isyour poetical temperament, my dear--your ethereal soul--your fervidimagination, which throws you into a glow of genius and excitement.There is nothing in the place, my dear--nothing, nothing.''I think there must be something in the place,' said Mrs Nickleby,who had been listening in silence; 'for, soon after I was married, Iwent to Stratford with my poor dear Mr Nickleby, in a post-chaisefrom Birmingham--was it a post-chaise though?' said Mrs Nickleby,considering; 'yes, it must have been a post-chaise, because Irecollect remarking at the time that the driver had a green shadeover his left eye;--in a post-chaise from Birmingham, and after wehad seen Shakespeare's tomb and birthplace, we went back to the innthere, where we slept that night, and I recollect that all nightlong I dreamt of nothing but a black gentleman, at full length, inplaster-of-Paris, with a lay-down collar tied with two tassels,leaning against a post and thinking; and when I woke in the morningand described him to Mr Nickleby, he said it was Shakespeare just ashe had been when he was alive, which was very curious indeed.Stratford--Stratford,' continued Mrs Nickleby, considering. 'Yes, Iam positive about that, because I recollect I was in the family waywith my son Nicholas at the time, and I had been very muchfrightened by an Italian image boy that very morning. In fact, itwas quite a mercy, ma'am,' added Mrs Nickleby, in a whisper to MrsWititterly, 'that my son didn't turn out to be a Shakespeare, andwhat a dreadful thing that would have been!'When Mrs Nickleby had brought this interesting anecdote to a close,Pyke and Pluck, ever zealous in their patron's cause, proposed theadjournment of a detachment of the party into the next box; and withso much skill were the preliminaries adjusted, that Kate, despiteall she could say or do to the contrary, had no alternative but tosuffer herself to be led away by Sir Mulberry Hawk. Her mother andMr Pluck accompanied them, but the worthy lady, pluming herself uponher discretion, took particular care not so much as to look at herdaughter during the whole evening, and to seem wholly absorbed inthe jokes and conversation of Mr Pluck, who, having been appointedsentry over Mrs Nickleby for that especial purpose, neglected, onhis side, no possible opportunity of engrossing her attention.Lord Frederick Verisopht remained in the next box to be talked to byMrs Wititterly, and Mr Pyke was in attendance to throw in a word ortwo when necessary. As to Mr Wititterly, he was sufficiently busyin the body of the house, informing such of his friends andacquaintance as happened to be there, that those two gentlemenupstairs, whom they had seen in conversation with Mrs W., were thedistinguished Lord Frederick Verisopht and his most intimate friend,the gay Sir Mulberry Hawk--a communication which inflamed severalrespectable house-keepers with the utmost jealousy and rage, andreduced sixteen unmarried daughters to the very brink of despair.The evening came to an end at last, but Kate had yet to be handeddownstairs by the detested Sir Mulberry; and so skilfully were themanoeuvres of Messrs Pyke and Pluck conducted, that she and thebaronet were the last of the party, and were even--without anappearance of effort or design--left at some little distance behind.'Don't hurry, don't hurry,' said Sir Mulberry, as Kate hastened on,and attempted to release her arm.She made no reply, but still pressed forward.'Nay, then--' coolly observed Sir Mulberry, stopping her outright.'You had best not seek to detain me, sir!' said Kate, angrily.'And why not?' retorted Sir Mulberry. 'My dear creature, now why doyou keep up this show of displeasure?''Show!' repeated Kate, indignantly. 'How dare you presume to speakto me, sir--to address me--to come into my presence?''You look prettier in a passion, Miss Nickleby,' said Sir MulberryHawk, stooping down, the better to see her face.'I hold you in the bitterest detestation and contempt, sir,' saidKate. 'If you find any attraction in looks of disgust and aversion,you--let me rejoin my friends, sir, instantly. Whateverconsiderations may have withheld me thus far, I will disregard themall, and take a course that even you might feel, if you do notimmediately suffer me to proceed.'Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and retaining herarm, walked towards the door.'If no regard for my sex or helpless situation will induce you todesist from this coarse and unmanly persecution,' said Kate,scarcely knowing, in the tumult of her passions, what she said,--'Ihave a brother who will resent it dearly, one day.''Upon my soul!' exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though quietly communingwith himself; passing his arm round her waist as he spoke, 'shelooks more beautiful, and I like her better in this mood, than whenher eyes are cast down, and she is in perfect repose!'How Kate reached the lobby where her friends were waiting she neverknew, but she hurried across it without at all regarding them, anddisengaged herself suddenly from her companion, sprang into thecoach, and throwing herself into its darkest corner burst intotears.Messrs Pyke and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw the partyinto great commotion by shouting for the carriages, and getting up aviolent quarrel with sundry inoffensive bystanders; in the midst ofwhich tumult they put the affrighted Mrs Nickleby in her chariot,and having got her safely off, turned their thoughts to MrsWititterly, whose attention also they had now effectually distractedfrom the young lady, by throwing her into a state of the utmostbewilderment and consternation. At length, the conveyance in whichshe had come rolled off too with its load, and the four worthies,being left alone under the portico, enjoyed a hearty laugh together.'There,' said Sir Mulberry, turning to his noble friend. 'Didn't Itell you last night that if we could find where they were going bybribing a servant through my fellow, and then established ourselvesclose by with the mother, these people's honour would be our own?Why here it is, done in four-and-twenty hours.''Ye--es,' replied the dupe. 'But I have been tied to the old womanall ni-ight.''Hear him,' said Sir Mulberry, turning to his two friends. 'Hearthis discontented grumbler. Isn't it enough to make a man swearnever to help him in his plots and schemes again? Isn't it aninfernal shame?'Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame, and Pluckasked Pyke; but neither answered.'Isn't it the truth?' demanded Verisopht. 'Wasn't it so?''Wasn't it so!' repeated Sir Mulberry. 'How would you have had it?How could we have got a general invitation at first sight--come whenyou like, go when you like, stop as long as you like, do what youlike--if you, the lord, had not made yourself agreeable to thefoolish mistress of the house? Do I care for this girl, except asyour friend? Haven't I been sounding your praises in her ears, andbearing her pretty sulks and peevishness all night for you? Whatsort of stuff do you think I'm made of? Would I do this for everyman? Don't I deserve even gratitude in return?''You're a deyvlish good fellow,' said the poor young lord, takinghis friend's arm. 'Upon my life you're a deyvlish good fellow,Hawk.''And I have done right, have I?' demanded Sir Mulberry.'Quite ri-ght.''And like a poor, silly, good-natured, friendly dog as I am, eh?''Ye--es, ye--es; like a friend,' replied the other.'Well then,' replied Sir Mulberry, 'I'm satisfied. And now let's goand have our revenge on the German baron and the Frenchman, whocleaned you out so handsomely last night.'With these words the friendly creature took his companion's arm andled him away, turning half round as he did so, and bestowing a winkand a contemptuous smile on Messrs Pyke and Pluck, who, crammingtheir handkerchiefs into their mouths to denote their silentenjoyment of the whole proceedings, followed their patron and hisvictim at a little distance.