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

‘Why, I do declare,’ said Mr Kenwigs, standing opposite the door so as to get the earliest glimpse of the visitor, as he came upstairs, ‘it’s Mr Johnson! How do you find yourself, sir?’

Nicholas shook hands, kissed his old pupils all round, intrusted a large parcel of toys to the guardianship of Morleena, bowed to the doctor and the married ladies, and inquired after Mrs Kenwigs in a tone of interest, which went to the very heart and soul of the nurse, who had come in to warm some mysterious compound, in a little saucepan over the fire.

‘I ought to make a hundred apologies to you for calling at such a season,’ said Nicholas, ‘but I was not aware of it until I had rung the bell, and my time is so fully occupied now, that I feared it might be some days before I could possibly come again.’

‘No time like the present, sir,’ said Mr Kenwigs. ‘The sitiwation of Mrs Kenwigs, sir, is no obstacle to a little conversation between you and me, I hope?’

‘You are very good,’ said Nicholas.

At this juncture, proclamation was made by another married lady, that the baby had begun to eat like anything; whereupon the two married ladies, already mentioned, rushed tumultuously into the bedroom to behold him in the act.

‘The fact is,’ resumed Nicholas, ‘that before I left the country, where I have been for some time past, I undertook to deliver a message to you.’

‘Ay, ay?’ said Mr Kenwigs.

‘And I have been,’ added Nicholas, ‘already in town for some days, without having had an opportunity of doing so.’

‘It’s no matter, sir,’ said Mr Kenwigs. ‘I dare say it’s none the worse for keeping cold. Message from the country!’ said Mr Kenwigs, ruminating; ‘that’s curious. I don’t know anybody in the country.’

‘Miss Petowker,’ suggested Nicholas.

‘Oh! from her, is it?’ said Mr Kenwigs. ‘Oh dear, yes. Ah! Mrs Kenwigs will be glad to hear from her. Henrietta Petowker, eh? How odd things come about, now! That you should have met her in the country! Well!’

Hearing this mention of their old friend’s name, the four Miss Kenwigses gathered round Nicholas, open eyed and mouthed, to hear more. Mr Kenwigs looked a little curious too, but quite comfortable and unsuspecting.

‘The message relates to family matters,’ said Nicholas, hesitating.

‘Oh, never mind,’ said Kenwigs, glancing at Mr Lumbey, who, having rashly taken charge of little Lillyvick, found nobody disposed to relieve him of his precious burden. ‘All friends here.’

Nicholas hemmed once or twice, and seemed to have some difficulty in proceeding.

‘At Portsmouth, Henrietta Petowker is,’ observed Mr Kenwigs.

‘Yes,’ said Nicholas, ‘Mr Lillyvick is there.’

Mr Kenwigs turned pale, but he recovered, and said, THAT was an odd coincidence also.

‘The message is from him,’ said Nicholas.

Mr Kenwigs appeared to revive. He knew that his niece was in a delicate state, and had, no doubt, sent word that they were to forward full particulars. Yes. That was very kind of him; so like him too!

‘He desired me to give his kindest love,’ said Nicholas.

‘Very much obliged to him, I’m sure. Your great-uncle, Lillyvick, my dears!’ interposed Mr Kenwigs, condescendingly explaining it to the children.

‘His kindest love,’ resumed Nicholas; ‘and to say that he had no time to write, but that he was married to Miss Petowker.’

Mr Kenwigs started from his seat with a petrified stare, caught his second daughter by her flaxen tail, and covered his face with his pocket-handkerchief. Morleena fell, all stiff and rigid, into the baby’s chair, as she had seen her mother fall when she fainted away, and the two remaining little Kenwigses shrieked in affright.

‘My children, my defrauded, swindled infants!’ cried Mr Kenwigs, pulling so hard, in his vehemence, at the flaxen tail of his second daughter, that he lifted her up on tiptoe, and kept her, for some seconds, in that attitude. ‘Villain, ass, traitor!’

‘Drat the man!’ cried the nurse, looking angrily around. ‘What does he mean by making that noise here?’

‘Silence, woman!’ said Mr Kenwigs, fiercely.

‘I won’t be silent,’ returned the nurse. ‘Be silent yourself, you wretch. Have you no regard for your baby?’

‘No!’ returned Mr Kenwigs.

‘More shame for you,’ retorted the nurse. ‘Ugh! you unnatural monster.’

‘Let him die,’ cried Mr Kenwigs, in the torrent of his wrath. ‘Let him die! He has no expectations, no property to come into. We want no babies here,’ said Mr Kenwigs recklessly. ‘Take ‘em away, take ‘em away to the Fondling!’

With these awful remarks, Mr Kenwigs sat himself down in a chair, and defied the nurse, who made the best of her way into the adjoining room, and returned with a stream of matrons: declaring that Mr Kenwigs had spoken blasphemy against his family, and must be raving mad.

Appearances were certainly not in Mr Kenwigs’s favour, for the exertion of speaking with so much vehemence, and yet in such a tone as should prevent his lamentations reaching the ears of Mrs Kenwigs, had made him very black in the face; besides which, the excitement of the occasion, and an unwonted indulgence in various strong cordials to celebrate it, had swollen and dilated his features to a most unusual extent. But, Nicholas and the doctor—who had been passive at first, doubting very much whether Mr Kenwigs could be in earnest—interfering to explain the immediate cause of his condition, the indignation of the matrons was changed to pity, and they implored him, with much feeling, to go quietly to bed.

‘The attention,’ said Mr Kenwigs, looking around with a plaintive air, ‘the attention that I’ve shown to that man! The hyseters he has eat, and the pints of ale he has drank, in this house—!’

‘It’s very trying, and very hard to bear, we know,’ said one of the married ladies; ‘but think of your dear darling wife.’

‘Oh yes, and what she’s been a undergoing of, only this day,’ cried a great many voices. ‘There’s a good man, do.’

‘The presents that have been made to him,’ said Mr Kenwigs, reverting to his calamity, ‘the pipes, the snuff-boxes—a pair of india-rubber goloshes, that cost six-and-six—’

‘Ah! it won’t bear thinking of, indeed,’ cried the matrons generally; ‘but it’ll all come home to him, never fear.’

Mr Kenwigs looked darkly upon the ladies, as if he would prefer its all coming home to HIM, as there was nothing to be got by it; but he said nothing, and resting his head upon his hand, subsided into a kind of doze.

Then, the matrons again expatiated on the expediency of taking the good gentleman to bed; observing that he would be better tomorrow, and that they knew what was the wear and tear of some men’s minds when their wives were taken as Mrs Kenwigs had been that day, and that it did him great credit, and there was nothing to be ashamed of in it; far from it; they liked to see it, they did, for it showed a good heart. And one lady observed, as a case bearing upon the present, that her husband was often quite light-headed from anxiety on similar occasions, and that once, when her little Johnny was born, it was nearly a week before he came to himself again, during the whole of which time he did nothing but cry ‘Is it a boy, is it a boy?’ in a manner which went to the hearts of all his hearers.

At length, Morleena (who quite forgot she had fainted, when she found she was not noticed) announced that a chamber was ready for her afflicted parent; and Mr Kenwigs, having partially smothered his four daughters in the closeness of his embrace, accepted the doctor’s arm on one side, and the support of Nicholas on the other, and was conducted upstairs to a bedroom which been secured for the occasion.

Having seen him sound asleep, and heard him snore most satisfactorily, and having further presided over the distribution of the toys, to the perfect contentment of all the little Kenwigses, Nicholas took his leave. The matrons dropped off one by one, with the exception of six or eight particular friends, who had determined to stop all night; the lights in the houses gradually disappeared; the last bulletin was issued that Mrs Kenwigs was as well as could be expected; and the whole family were left to their repose.