The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens (books to read this summer txt) 📕

‘It’s a strange time of night to be called away, sir, certainly,’ said the collector; ‘and the behaviour of Mr Noggs himself, is, to say the least of it, mysterious.’

‘Well, so it is,’ rejoined Growl; ‘and I’ll tell you what’s more—I think these two geniuses, whoever they are, have run away from somewhere.’

‘What makes you think that, sir?’ demanded the collector, who seemed, by a tacit understanding, to have been chosen and elected mouthpiece to the company. ‘You have no reason to suppose that they have run away from anywhere without paying the rates and taxes due, I hope?’

Mr Crowl, with a look of some contempt, was about to enter a general protest against the payment of rates or taxes, under any circumstances, when he was checked by a timely whisper from Kenwigs, and several frowns and winks from Mrs K., which providentially stopped him.

‘Why the fact is,’ said Crowl, who had been listening at Newman’s door with all his might and main; ‘the fact is, that they have been talking so loud, that they quite disturbed me in my room, and so I couldn’t help catching a word here, and a word there; and all I heard, certainly seemed to refer to their having bolted from some place or other. I don’t wish to alarm Mrs Kenwigs; but I hope they haven’t come from any jail or hospital, and brought away a fever or some unpleasantness of that sort, which might be catching for the children.’

Mrs Kenwigs was so overpowered by this supposition, that it needed all the tender attentions of Miss Petowker, of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, to restore her to anything like a state of calmness; not to mention the assiduity of Mr Kenwigs, who held a fat smelling-bottle to his lady’s nose, until it became matter of some doubt whether the tears which coursed down her face were the result of feelings or SAL VOLATILE.

The ladies, having expressed their sympathy, singly and separately, fell, according to custom, into a little chorus of soothing expressions, among which, such condolences as ‘Poor dear!’—‘I should feel just the same, if I was her’—‘To be sure, it’s a very trying thing’—and ‘Nobody but a mother knows what a mother’s feelings is,’ were among the most prominent, and most frequently repeated. In short, the opinion of the company was so clearly manifested, that Mr Kenwigs was on the point of repairing to Mr Noggs’s room, to demand an explanation, and had indeed swallowed a preparatory glass of punch, with great inflexibility and steadiness of purpose, when the attention of all present was diverted by a new and terrible surprise.

This was nothing less than the sudden pouring forth of a rapid succession of the shrillest and most piercing screams, from an upper story; and to all appearance from the very two-pair back, in which the infant Kenwigs was at that moment enshrined. They were no sooner audible, than Mrs Kenwigs, opining that a strange cat had come in, and sucked the baby’s breath while the girl was asleep, made for the door, wringing her hands, and shrieking dismally; to the great consternation and confusion of the company.

‘Mr Kenwigs, see what it is; make haste!’ cried the sister, laying violent hands upon Mrs Kenwigs, and holding her back by force. ‘Oh don’t twist about so, dear, or I can never hold you.’

‘My baby, my blessed, blessed, blessed, blessed baby!’ screamed Mrs Kenwigs, making every blessed louder than the last. ‘My own darling, sweet, innocent Lillyvick—Oh let me go to him. Let me go-o-o-o!’

Pending the utterance of these frantic cries, and the wails and lamentations of the four little girls, Mr Kenwigs rushed upstairs to the room whence the sounds proceeded; at the door of which, he encountered Nicholas, with the child in his arms, who darted out with such violence, that the anxious father was thrown down six stairs, and alighted on the nearest landing-place, before he had found time to open his mouth to ask what was the matter.

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ cried Nicholas, running down; ‘here it is; it’s all out, it’s all over; pray compose yourselves; there’s no harm done;’ and with these, and a thousand other assurances, he delivered the baby (whom, in his hurry, he had carried upside down), to Mrs Kenwigs, and ran back to assist Mr Kenwigs, who was rubbing his head very hard, and looking much bewildered by his tumble.

Reassured by this cheering intelligence, the company in some degree recovered from their fears, which had been productive of some most singular instances of a total want of presence of mind; thus, the bachelor friend had, for a long time, supported in his arms Mrs Kenwigs’s sister, instead of Mrs Kenwigs; and the worthy Mr Lillyvick had been actually seen, in the perturbation of his spirits, to kiss Miss Petowker several times, behind the room-door, as calmly as if nothing distressing were going forward.

‘It is a mere nothing,’ said Nicholas, returning to Mrs Kenwigs; ‘the little girl, who was watching the child, being tired I suppose, fell asleep, and set her hair on fire.’

‘Oh you malicious little wretch!’ cried Mrs Kenwigs, impressively shaking her forefinger at the small unfortunate, who might be thirteen years old, and was looking on with a singed head and a frightened face.

‘I heard her cries,’ continued Nicholas, ‘and ran down, in time to prevent her setting fire to anything else. You may depend upon it that the child is not hurt; for I took it off the bed myself, and brought it here to convince you.’

This brief explanation over, the infant, who, as he was christened after the collector! rejoiced in the names of Lillyvick Kenwigs, was partially suffocated under the caresses of the audience, and squeezed to his mother’s bosom, until he roared again. The attention of the company was then directed, by a natural transition, to the little girl who had had the audacity to burn her hair off, and who, after receiving sundry small slaps and pushes from the more energetic of the ladies, was mercifully sent home: the ninepence, with which she was to have been rewarded, being escheated to the Kenwigs family.

‘And whatever we are to say to you, sir,’ exclaimed Mrs Kenwigs, addressing young Lillyvick’s deliverer, ‘I am sure I don’t know.’

‘You need say nothing at all,’ replied Nicholas. ‘I have done nothing to found any very strong claim upon your eloquence, I am sure.’

‘He might have been burnt to death, if it hadn’t been for you, sir,’ simpered Miss Petowker.

‘Not very likely, I think,’ replied Nicholas; ‘for there was abundance of assistance here, which must have reached him before he had been in any danger.’

‘You will let us drink your health, anyvays, sir!’ said Mr Kenwigs motioning towards the table.

‘—In my absence, by all means,’ rejoined Nicholas, with a smile. ‘I have had a very fatiguing journey, and should be most indifferent company—a far greater check upon your merriment, than a promoter of it, even if I kept awake, which I think very doubtful. If you will allow me, I’ll return to my friend, Mr Noggs, who went upstairs again, when he found nothing serious had occurred. Good-night.’

Excusing himself, in these terms, from joining in the festivities, Nicholas took a most winning farewell of Mrs Kenwigs and the other ladies, and retired, after making a very extraordinary impression upon the company.

‘What a delightful young man!’ cried Mrs Kenwigs.

‘Uncommon gentlemanly, really,’ said Mr Kenwigs. ‘Don’t you think so, Mr Lillyvick?’

‘Yes,’ said the collector, with a dubious shrug of his shoulders, ‘He is gentlemanly, very gentlemanly—in appearance.’

‘I hope you don’t see anything against him, uncle?’ inquired Mrs Kenwigs.

‘No, my dear,’ replied the collector, ‘no. I trust he may not turn out—well—no matter—my love to you, my dear, and long life to the baby!’

‘Your namesake,’ said Mrs Kenwigs, with a sweet smile.

‘And I hope a worthy namesake,’ observed Mr Kenwigs, willing to propitiate the collector. ‘I hope a baby as will never disgrace his godfather, and as may be considered, in arter years, of a piece with the Lillyvicks whose name he bears. I do say—and Mrs Kenwigs is of the same sentiment, and feels it as strong as I do—that I consider his being called Lillyvick one of the greatest blessings and Honours of my existence.’

‘THE greatest blessing, Kenwigs,’ murmured his lady.

‘THE greatest blessing,’ said Mr Kenwigs, correcting himself. ‘A blessing that I hope, one of these days, I may be able to deserve.’

This was a politic stroke of the Kenwigses, because it made Mr Lillyvick the great head and fountain of the baby’s importance. The good gentleman felt the delicacy and dexterity of the touch, and at once proposed the health of the gentleman, name unknown, who had signalised himself, that night, by his coolness and alacrity.

‘Who, I don’t mind saying,’ observed Mr Lillyvick, as a great concession, ‘is a good-looking young man enough, with manners that I hope his character may be equal to.’

‘He has a very nice face and style, really,’ said Mrs Kenwigs.

‘He certainly has,’ added Miss Petowker. ‘There’s something in his appearance quite—dear, dear, what’s that word again?’

‘What word?’ inquired Mr Lillyvick.

‘Why—dear me, how stupid I am,’ replied Miss Petowker, hesitating. ‘What do you call it, when Lords break off door-knockers and beat policemen, and play at coaches with other people’s money, and all that sort of thing?’

‘Aristocratic?’ suggested the collector.

‘Ah! aristocratic,’ replied Miss Petowker; ‘something very aristocratic about him, isn’t there?’

The gentleman held their peace, and smiled at each other, as who should say, ‘Well! there’s no accounting for tastes;’ but the ladies resolved unanimously that Nicholas had an aristocratic air; and nobody caring to dispute the position, it was established triumphantly.

The punch being, by this time, drunk out, and the little Kenwigses (who had for some time previously held their little eyes open with their little forefingers) becoming fractious, and requesting rather urgently to be put to bed, the collector made a move by pulling out his watch, and acquainting the company that it was nigh two o’clock; whereat some of the guests were surprised and others shocked, and hats and bonnets being groped for under the tables, and in course of time found, their owners went away, after a vast deal of shaking of hands, and many remarks how they had never spent such a delightful evening, and how they marvelled to find it so late, expecting to have heard that it was half-past ten at the very latest, and how they wished that Mr and Mrs Kenwigs had a wedding-day once a week, and how they wondered by what hidden agency Mrs Kenwigs could possibly have managed so well; and a great deal more of the same kind. To all of which flattering expressions, Mr and Mrs Kenwigs replied, by thanking every lady and gentleman, SERIATIM, for the favour of their company, and hoping they might have enjoyed themselves only half as well as they said they had.

As to Nicholas, quite unconscious of the impression he had produced, he had long since fallen asleep, leaving Mr Newman Noggs and Smike to empty the spirit bottle between them; and this office they performed with such extreme good-will, that Newman was equally at a loss to determine whether he himself was quite sober, and whether he had ever seen any gentleman so heavily, drowsily, and completely intoxicated as his new acquaintance.