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Having rendered his zealous assistance towards dispatching the lunch,with all that promptitude and energy which are among the most importantqualities that men of business can possess, Mr Ralph Nickleby took acordial farewell of his fellow-speculators, and bent his steps westwardin unwonted good humour. As he passed St Paul's he stepped aside intoa doorway to set his watch, and with his hand on the key and his eyeon the cathedral dial, was intent upon so doing, when a man suddenlystopped before him. It was Newman Noggs.

'Ah! Newman,' said Mr Nickleby, looking up as he pursued his occupation.'The letter about the mortgage has come, has it? I thought it would.'

'Wrong,' replied Newman.

'What! and nobody called respecting it?' inquired Mr Nickleby, pausing.Noggs shook his head.

'What HAS come, then?' inquired Mr Nickleby.

'I have,' said Newman.

'What else?' demanded the master, sternly.

'This,' said Newman, drawing a sealed letter slowly from his pocket.'Post-mark, Strand, black wax, black border, woman's hand, C. N. in thecorner.'

'Black wax?' said Mr Nickleby, glancing at the letter. 'I know somethingof that hand, too. Newman, I shouldn't be surprised if my brother weredead.'

'I don't think you would,' said Newman, quietly.

'Why not, sir?' demanded Mr Nickleby.

'You never are surprised,' replied Newman, 'that's all.'

Mr Nickleby snatched the letter from his assistant, and fixing a coldlook upon him, opened, read it, put it in his pocket, and having now hitthe time to a second, began winding up his watch.

'It is as I expected, Newman,' said Mr Nickleby, while he was thusengaged. 'He IS dead. Dear me! Well, that's sudden thing. I shouldn'thave thought it, really.' With these touching expressions of sorrow, MrNickleby replaced his watch in his fob, and, fitting on his gloves to anicety, turned upon his way, and walked slowly westward with his handsbehind him.

'Children alive?' inquired Noggs, stepping up to him.

'Why, that's the very thing,' replied Mr Nickleby, as though histhoughts were about them at that moment. 'They are both alive.'

'Both!' repeated Newman Noggs, in a low voice.

'And the widow, too,' added Mr Nickleby, 'and all three in London,confound them; all three here, Newman.'

Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face was curiouslytwisted as by a spasm; but whether of paralysis, or grief, or inwardlaughter, nobody but himself could possibly explain. The expression ofa man's face is commonly a help to his thoughts, or glossary on hisspeech; but the countenance of Newman Noggs, in his ordinary moods, wasa problem which no stretch of ingenuity could solve.

'Go home!' said Mr Nickleby, after they had walked a few paces: lookinground at the clerk as if he were his dog. The words were scarcelyuttered when Newman darted across the road, slunk among the crowd, anddisappeared in an instant.

'Reasonable, certainly!' muttered Mr Nickleby to himself, as he walkedon, 'very reasonable! My brother never did anything for me, and I neverexpected it; the breath is no sooner out of his body than I am to belooked to, as the support of a great hearty woman, and a grown boy andgirl. What are they to me! I never saw them.'

Full of these, and many other reflections of a similar kind, Mr Nicklebymade the best of his way to the Strand, and, referring to his letter asif to ascertain the number of the house he wanted, stopped at a privatedoor about half-way down that crowded thoroughfare.

A miniature painter lived there, for there was a large gilt framescrewed upon the street-door, in which were displayed, upon a blackvelvet ground, two portraits of naval dress coats with faces lookingout of them, and telescopes attached; one of a young gentleman in a veryvermilion uniform, flourishing a sabre; and one of a literary characterwith a high forehead, a pen and ink, six books, and a curtain. Therewas, moreover, a touching representation of a young lady reading amanuscript in an unfathomable forest, and a charming whole length of alarge-headed little boy, sitting on a stool with his legs fore-shortenedto the size of salt-spoons. Besides these works of art, there were agreat many heads of old ladies and gentlemen smirking at each other outof blue and brown skies, and an elegantly written card of terms with anembossed border.

Mr Nickleby glanced at these frivolities with great contempt, and gavea double knock, which, having been thrice repeated, was answered by aservant girl with an uncommonly dirty face.

'Is Mrs Nickleby at home, girl?' demanded Ralph sharply.

'Her name ain't Nickleby,' said the girl, 'La Creevy, you mean.'

Mr Nickleby looked very indignant at the handmaid on being thuscorrected, and demanded with much asperity what she meant; which shewas about to state, when a female voice proceeding from a perpendicularstaircase at the end of the passage, inquired who was wanted.

'Mrs Nickleby,' said Ralph.

'It's the second floor, Hannah,' said the same voice; 'what a stupidthing you are! Is the second floor at home?'

'Somebody went out just now, but I think it was the attic which had beena cleaning of himself,' replied the girl.

'You had better see,' said the invisible female. 'Show the gentlemanwhere the bell is, and tell him he mustn't knock double knocks for thesecond floor; I can't allow a knock except when the bell's broke, andthen it must be two single ones.'

'Here,' said Ralph, walking in without more parley, 'I beg your pardon;is that Mrs La what's-her-name?'

'Creevy--La Creevy,' replied the voice, as a yellow headdress bobbedover the banisters.

'I'll speak to you a moment, ma'am, with your leave,' said Ralph.

The voice replied that the gentleman was to walk up; but he had walkedup before it spoke, and stepping into the first floor, was received bythe wearer of the yellow head-dress, who had a gown to correspond, andwas of much the same colour herself. Miss La Creevy was a mincingyoung lady of fifty, and Miss La Creevy's apartment was the gilt framedownstairs on a larger scale and something dirtier.

'Hem!' said Miss La Creevy, coughing delicately behind her black silkmitten. 'A miniature, I presume. A very strongly-marked countenance forthe purpose, sir. Have you ever sat before?'

'You mistake my purpose, I see, ma'am,' replied Mr Nickleby, in hisusual blunt fashion. 'I have no money to throw away on miniatures,ma'am, and nobody to give one to (thank God) if I had. Seeing you on thestairs, I wanted to ask a question of you, about some lodgers here.'

Miss La Creevy coughed once more--this cough was to conceal herdisappointment--and said, 'Oh, indeed!'

'I infer from what you said to your servant, that the floor abovebelongs to you, ma'am,' said Mr Nickleby.

Yes it did, Miss La Creevy replied. The upper part of the house belongedto her, and as she had no necessity for the second-floor rooms justthen, she was in the habit of letting them. Indeed, there was a ladyfrom the country and her two children in them, at that present speaking.

'A widow, ma'am?' said Ralph.

'Yes, she is a widow,' replied the lady.

'A POOR widow, ma'am,' said Ralph, with a powerful emphasis on thatlittle adjective which conveys so much.

'Well, I'm afraid she IS poor,' rejoined Miss La Creevy.

'I happen to know that she is, ma'am,' said Ralph. 'Now, what businesshas a poor widow in such a house as this, ma'am?'

'Very true,' replied Miss La Creevy, not at all displeased with thisimplied compliment to the apartments. 'Exceedingly true.'

'I know her circumstances intimately, ma'am,' said Ralph; 'in fact, Iam a relation of the family; and I should recommend you not to keep themhere, ma'am.'

'I should hope, if there was any incompatibility to meet the pecuniaryobligations,' said Miss La Creevy with another cough, 'that the lady'sfamily would--'

'No they wouldn't, ma'am,' interrupted Ralph, hastily. 'Don't think it.'

'If I am to understand that,' said Miss La Creevy, 'the case wears avery different appearance.'

'You may understand it then, ma'am,' said Ralph, 'and make yourarrangements accordingly. I am the family, ma'am--at least, I believeI am the only relation they have, and I think it right that you shouldknow I can't support them in their extravagances. How long have theytaken these lodgings for?'

'Only from week to week,' replied Miss La Creevy. 'Mrs Nickleby paid thefirst week in advance.'

'Then you had better get them out at the end of it,' said Ralph.'They can't do better than go back to the country, ma'am; they are ineverybody's way here.'

'Certainly,' said Miss La Creevy, rubbing her hands, 'if Mrs Nicklebytook the apartments without the means of paying for them, it was veryunbecoming a lady.'

'Of course it was, ma'am,' said Ralph.

'And naturally,' continued Miss La Creevy, 'I who am, ATPRESENT--hem--an unprotected female, cannot afford to lose by theapartments.'

'Of course you can't, ma'am,' replied Ralph.

'Though at the same time,' added Miss La Creevy, who was plainlywavering between her good-nature and her interest, 'I have nothingwhatever to say against the lady, who is extremely pleasant and affable,though, poor thing, she seems terribly low in her spirits; nor againstthe young people either, for nicer, or better-behaved young peoplecannot be.'

'Very well, ma'am,' said Ralph, turning to the door, for these encomiumson poverty irritated him; 'I have done my duty, and perhaps more than Iought: of course nobody will thank me for saying what I have.'

'I am sure I am very much obliged to you at least, sir,' said Miss LaCreevy in a gracious manner. 'Would you do me the favour to look at afew specimens of my portrait painting?'

'You're very good, ma'am,' said Mr Nickleby, making off with greatspeed; 'but as I have a visit to pay upstairs, and my time is precious,I really can't.'

'At any other time when you are passing, I shall be most happy,' saidMiss La Creevy. 'Perhaps you will have the kindness to take a card ofterms with you? Thank you--good-morning!'

'Good-morning, ma'am,' said Ralph, shutting the door abruptly after himto prevent any further conversation. 'Now for my sister-in-law. Bah!'

Climbing up another perpendicular flight, composed with great mechanicalingenuity of nothing but corner stairs, Mr Ralph Nickleby stopped totake breath on the landing, when he was overtaken by the handmaid, whomthe politeness of Miss La Creevy had dispatched to announce him, andwho had apparently been making a variety of unsuccessful attempts, sincetheir last interview, to wipe her dirty face clean, upon an apron muchdirtier.

'What name?' said the girl.

'Nickleby,' replied Ralph.

'Oh! Mrs Nickleby,' said the girl, throwing open the door, 'here's MrNickleby.'

A lady in deep mourning rose as Mr Ralph Nickleby entered, but appearedincapable of advancing to meet him, and leant upon the arm of a slightbut very beautiful girl of about seventeen, who had been sitting by her.A youth, who appeared a year or two older, stepped forward and salutedRalph as his uncle.

'Oh,' growled Ralph, with an ill-favoured frown, 'you are Nicholas, Isuppose?'

'That is my name, sir,' replied the youth.

'Put my hat down,' said Ralph, imperiously. 'Well, ma'am, how do you do?You must bear up against sorrow, ma'am; I always do.'

'Mine was no common loss!' said Mrs Nickleby, applying her handkerchiefto her eyes.

'It was no UNcommon loss, ma'am,' returned Ralph, as he coollyunbuttoned his spencer. 'Husbands die every day, ma'am, and wives too.'

'And brothers also, sir,' said Nicholas, with a glance of indignation.

'Yes, sir, and puppies, and pug-dogs likewise,' replied his uncle,taking a chair. 'You didn't mention in your letter what my brother'scomplaint was, ma'am.'

'The doctors could attribute it to no particular disease,' said MrsNickleby; shedding tears. 'We have too much reason to fear that he diedof a broken heart.'

'Pooh!' said Ralph, 'there's no such thing. I can understand a man'sdying of a broken neck, or suffering from a broken arm, or a brokenhead, or a broken leg, or a broken nose; but a broken heart!--nonsense,it's the cant of the day. If a man can't pay his debts, he dies of abroken heart, and his widow's a martyr.'

'Some people, I believe, have no hearts to break,' observed Nicholas,quietly.

'How old is this boy, for God's sake?' inquired Ralph, wheeling back hischair, and surveying his nephew from head to foot with intense scorn.

'Nicholas is very nearly nineteen,' replied the widow.

'Nineteen, eh!' said Ralph; 'and what do you mean to do for your bread,sir?'

'Not to live upon my mother,' replied Nicholas, his heart swelling as hespoke.

'You'd have little enough to live upon, if you did,' retorted the uncle,eyeing him contemptuously.

'Whatever it be,' said Nicholas, flushed with anger, 'I shall not lookto you to make it more.'

'Nicholas, my dear, recollect yourself,' remonstrated Mrs Nickleby.

'Dear Nicholas, pray,' urged the young lady.

'Hold your tongue, sir,' said Ralph. 'Upon my word! Fine beginnings, MrsNickleby--fine beginnings!'

Mrs Nickleby made no other reply than entreating Nicholas by a gestureto keep silent; and the uncle and nephew looked at each other forsome seconds without speaking. The face of the old man was stern,hard-featured, and forbidding; that of the young one, open, handsome,and ingenuous. The old man's eye was keen with the twinklings of avariceand cunning; the young man's bright with the light of intelligence andspirit. His figure was somewhat slight, but manly and well formed; and,apart from all the grace of youth and comeliness, there was an emanationfrom the warm young heart in his look and bearing which kept the old mandown.

However striking such a contrast as this may be to lookers-on, none everfeel it with half the keenness or acuteness of perfection with which itstrikes to the very soul of him whose inferiority it marks. It galledRalph to the heart's core, and he hated Nicholas from that hour.

The mutual inspection was at length brought to a close by Ralphwithdrawing his eyes, with a great show of disdain, and calling Nicholas'a boy.' This word is much used as a term of reproach by elderlygentlemen towards their juniors: probably with the view of deludingsociety into the belief that if they could be young again, they wouldn'ton any account.

'Well, ma'am,' said Ralph, impatiently, 'the creditors haveadministered, you tell me, and there's nothing left for you?'

'Nothing,' replied Mrs Nickleby.

'And you spent what little money you had, in coming all the way toLondon, to see what I could do for you?' pursued Ralph.

'I hoped,' faltered Mrs Nickleby, 'that you might have an opportunity ofdoing something for your brother's children. It was his dying wish thatI should appeal to you in their behalf.'

'I don't know how it is,' muttered Ralph, walking up and down the room,'but whenever a man dies without any property of his own, he alwaysseems to think he has a right to dispose of other people's. What is yourdaughter fit for, ma'am?'

'Kate has been well educated,' sobbed Mrs Nickleby. 'Tell your uncle, mydear, how far you went in French and extras.'

The poor girl was about to murmur something, when her uncle stopped her,very unceremoniously.

'We must try and get you apprenticed at some boarding-school,' saidRalph. 'You have not been brought up too delicately for that, I hope?'

'No, indeed, uncle,' replied the weeping girl. 'I will try to doanything that will gain me a home and bread.'

'Well, well,' said Ralph, a little softened, either by his niece'sbeauty or her distress (stretch a point, and say the latter). 'You musttry it, and if the life is too hard, perhaps dressmaking or tambour-workwill come lighter. Have YOU ever done anything, sir?' (turning to hisnephew.)

'No,' replied Nicholas, bluntly.

'No, I thought not!' said Ralph. 'This is the way my brother brought uphis children, ma'am.'

'Nicholas has not long completed such education as his poor father couldgive him,' rejoined Mrs Nickleby, 'and he was thinking of--'

'Of making something of him someday,' said Ralph. 'The old story; alwaysthinking, and never doing. If my brother had been a man of activityand prudence, he might have left you a rich woman, ma'am: and if he hadturned his son into the world, as my father turned me, when I wasn't asold as that boy by a year and a half, he would have been in a situationto help you, instead of being a burden upon you, and increasing yourdistress. My brother was a thoughtless, inconsiderate man, Mrs Nickleby,and nobody, I am sure, can have better reason to feel that, than you.'

This appeal set the widow upon thinking that perhaps she might have madea more successful venture with her one thousand pounds, and then shebegan to reflect what a comfortable sum it would have been just then;which dismal thoughts made her tears flow faster, and in the excess ofthese griefs she (being a well-meaning woman enough, but weak withal)fell first to deploring her hard fate, and then to remarking, with manysobs, that to be sure she had been a slave to poor Nicholas, and hadoften told him she might have married better (as indeed she had, veryoften), and that she never knew in his lifetime how the money went, butthat if he had confided in her they might all have been better off thatday; with other bitter recollections common to most married ladies,either during their coverture, or afterwards, or at both periods. MrsNickleby concluded by lamenting that the dear departed had never deignedto profit by her advice, save on one occasion; which was a strictlyveracious statement, inasmuch as he had only acted upon it once, and hadruined himself in consequence.

Mr Ralph Nickleby heard all this with a half-smile; and when the widowhad finished, quietly took up the subject where it had been left beforethe above outbreak.

'Are you willing to work, sir?' he inquired, frowning on his nephew.

'Of course I am,' replied Nicholas haughtily.

'Then see here, sir,' said his uncle. 'This caught my eye this morning,and you may thank your stars for it.'

With this exordium, Mr Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper from hispocket, and after unfolding it, and looking for a short time among theadvertisements, read as follows:

'"EDUCATION.--At Mr Wackford Squeers's Academy, Dotheboys Hall, at thedelightful village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youthare boarded, clothed, booked, furnished with pocket-money, providedwith all necessaries, instructed in all languages living and dead,mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigonometry, the use ofthe globes, algebra, single stick (if required), writing, arithmetic,fortification, and every other branch of classical literature.Terms, twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and dietunparalleled. Mr Squeers is in town, and attends daily, from one tillfour, at the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill. N.B. An able assistant wanted.Annual salary 5 pounds. A Master of Arts would be preferred."

'There!' said Ralph, folding the paper again. 'Let him get thatsituation, and his fortune is made.'

'But he is not a Master of Arts,' said Mrs Nickleby.

'That,' replied Ralph, 'that, I think, can be got over.'

'But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off, uncle!'faltered Kate.

'Hush, Kate my dear,' interposed Mrs Nickleby; 'your uncle must knowbest.'

'I say,' repeated Ralph, tartly, 'let him get that situation, and hisfortune is made. If he don't like that, let him get one for himself.Without friends, money, recommendation, or knowledge of business of anykind, let him find honest employment in London, which will keep him inshoe leather, and I'll give him a thousand pounds. At least,' said MrRalph Nickleby, checking himself, 'I would if I had it.'

'Poor fellow!' said the young lady. 'Oh! uncle, must we be separated sosoon!'

'Don't tease your uncle with questions when he is thinking only for ourgood, my love,' said Mrs Nickleby. 'Nicholas, my dear, I wish you wouldsay something.'

'Yes, mother, yes,' said Nicholas, who had hitherto remained silent andabsorbed in thought. 'If I am fortunate enough to be appointed to thispost, sir, for which I am so imperfectly qualified, what will become ofthose I leave behind?'

'Your mother and sister, sir,' replied Ralph, 'will be provided for, inthat case (not otherwise), by me, and placed in some sphere of life inwhich they will be able to be independent. That will be my immediatecare; they will not remain as they are, one week after your departure, Iwill undertake.'

'Then,' said Nicholas, starting gaily up, and wringing his uncle's hand,'I am ready to do anything you wish me. Let us try our fortune with MrSqueers at once; he can but refuse.'

'He won't do that,' said Ralph. 'He will be glad to have you on myrecommendation. Make yourself of use to him, and you'll rise to be apartner in the establishment in no time. Bless me, only think! if hewere to die, why your fortune's made at once.'

'To be sure, I see it all,' said poor Nicholas, delighted with athousand visionary ideas, that his good spirits and his inexperiencewere conjuring up before him. 'Or suppose some young nobleman who isbeing educated at the Hall, were to take a fancy to me, and get hisfather to appoint me his travelling tutor when he left, and when wecome back from the continent, procured me some handsome appointment. Eh!uncle?'

'Ah, to be sure!' sneered Ralph.

'And who knows, but when he came to see me when I was settled (as hewould of course), he might fall in love with Kate, who would be keepingmy house, and--and marry her, eh! uncle? Who knows?'

'Who, indeed!' snarled Ralph.

'How happy we should be!' cried Nicholas with enthusiasm. 'The pain ofparting is nothing to the joy of meeting again. Kate will be a beautifulwoman, and I so proud to hear them say so, and mother so happy tobe with us once again, and all these sad times forgotten, and--' Thepicture was too bright a one to bear, and Nicholas, fairly overpoweredby it, smiled faintly, and burst into tears.

This simple family, born and bred in retirement, and wholly unacquaintedwith what is called the world--a conventional phrase which, beinginterpreted, often signifieth all the rascals in it--mingled their tearstogether at the thought of their first separation; and, this first gushof feeling over, were proceeding to dilate with all the buoyancy ofuntried hope on the bright prospects before them, when Mr Ralph Nicklebysuggested, that if they lost time, some more fortunate candidatemight deprive Nicholas of the stepping-stone to fortune which theadvertisement pointed out, and so undermine all their air-built castles.This timely reminder effectually stopped the conversation. Nicholas,having carefully copied the address of Mr Squeers, the uncle and nephewissued forth together in quest of that accomplished gentleman; Nicholasfirmly persuading himself that he had done his relative great injusticein disliking him at first sight; and Mrs Nickleby being at some pains toinform her daughter that she was sure he was a much more kindly disposedperson than he seemed; which, Miss Nickleby dutifully remarked, he mightvery easily be.

To tell the truth, the good lady's opinion had been not a littleinfluenced by her brother-in-law's appeal to her better understanding,and his implied compliment to her high deserts; and although she haddearly loved her husband, and still doted on her children, he had struckso successfully on one of those little jarring chords in the human heart(Ralph was well acquainted with its worst weaknesses, though he knewnothing of its best), that she had already begun seriously to considerherself the amiable and suffering victim of her late husband'simprudence.