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In an old house, dismal dark and dusty, which seemed to have withered,like himself, and to have grown yellow and shrivelled in hoarding himfrom the light of day, as he had in hoarding his money, lived ArthurGride. Meagre old chairs and tables, of spare and bony make, and hardand cold as misers' hearts, were ranged, in grim array, against thegloomy walls; attenuated presses, grown lank and lantern-jawed inguarding the treasures they enclosed, and tottering, as though fromconstant fear and dread of thieves, shrunk up in dark corners, whencethey cast no shadows on the ground, and seemed to hide and cower fromobservation. A tall grim clock upon the stairs, with long lean hands andfamished face, ticked in cautious whispers; and when it struck the time,in thin and piping sounds, like an old man's voice, rattled, as if itwere pinched with hunger.

No fireside couch was there, to invite repose and comfort. Elbow-chairsthere were, but they looked uneasy in their minds, cocked their armssuspiciously and timidly, and kept upon their guard. Others, werefantastically grim and gaunt, as having drawn themselves up to theirutmost height, and put on their fiercest looks to stare all comers outof countenance. Others, again, knocked up against their neighbours, orleant for support against the wall--somewhat ostentatiously, as if tocall all men to witness that they were not worth the taking. The darksquare lumbering bedsteads seemed built for restless dreams; the mustyhangings seemed to creep in scanty folds together, whispering amongthemselves, when rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge of thetempting wares that lurked within the dark and tight-locked closets.

From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare and hungryhouse there came, one morning, the tremulous tones of old Gride's voice,as it feebly chirruped forth the fag end of some forgotten song, ofwhich the burden ran:

Ta--ran--tan--too, Throw the old shoe, And may the wedding be lucky!

which he repeated, in the same shrill quavering notes, again and again,until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist, and to pursue insilence, the occupation upon which he was engaged.

This occupation was, to take down from the shelves of a worm-eatenwardrobe a quantity of frouzy garments, one by one; to subject each toa careful and minute inspection by holding it up against the light, andafter folding it with great exactness, to lay it on one or other oftwo little heaps beside him. He never took two articles of clothing outtogether, but always brought them forth, singly, and never failed toshut the wardrobe door, and turn the key, between each visit to itsshelves.

'The snuff-coloured suit,' said Arthur Gride, surveying a threadbarecoat. 'Did I look well in snuff-colour? Let me think.'

The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable, for he foldedthe garment once more, laid it aside, and mounted on a chair to get downanother, chirping while he did so:

Young, loving, and fair, Oh what happiness there! The wedding is sure to be lucky!

'They always put in "young,"' said old Arthur, 'but songs are onlywritten for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poorcountry-people sang, when I was a little boy. Though stop--young isquite right too--it means the bride--yes. He, he, he! It means thebride. Oh dear, that's good. That's very good. And true besides, quitetrue!'

In the satisfaction of this discovery, he went over the verse again,with increased expression, and a shake or two here and there. He thenresumed his employment.

'The bottle-green,' said old Arthur; 'the bottle-green was a famoussuit to wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker's, and therewas--he, he, he!--a tarnished shilling in the waistcoat pocket. To thinkthat the pawnbroker shouldn't have known there was a shilling in it! Iknew it! I felt it when I was examining the quality. Oh, what a dull dogof a pawnbroker! It was a lucky suit too, this bottle-green. The veryday I put it on first, old Lord Mallowford was burnt to death inhis bed, and all the post-obits fell in. I'll be married in thebottle-green. Peg. Peg Sliderskew--I'll wear the bottle-green!'

This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room-door, broughtinto the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed old woman,palsy-stricken and hideously ugly, who, wiping her shrivelled face uponher dirty apron, inquired, in that subdued tone in which deaf peoplecommonly speak:

'Was that you a calling, or only the clock a striking? My hearing getsso bad, I never know which is which; but when I hear a noise, I know itmust be one of you, because nothing else never stirs in the house.'

'Me, Peg, me,' said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the breast torender the reply more intelligible.

'You, eh?' returned Peg. 'And what do YOU want?'

'I'll be married in the bottle-green,' cried Arthur Gride.

'It's a deal too good to be married in, master,' rejoined Peg, aftera short inspection of the suit. 'Haven't you got anything worse thanthis?'

'Nothing that'll do,' replied old Arthur.

'Why not do?' retorted Peg. 'Why don't you wear your every-day clothes,like a man--eh?'

'They an't becoming enough, Peg,' returned her master.

'Not what enough?' said Peg.

'Becoming.'

'Becoming what?' said Peg, sharply. 'Not becoming too old to wear?'

Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his housekeeper's deafness, ashe roared in her ear:

'Not smart enough! I want to look as well as I can.'

'Look?' cried Peg. 'If she's as handsome as you say she is, she won'tlook much at you, master, take your oath of that; and as to how you lookyourself--pepper-and-salt, bottle-green, sky-blue, or tartan-plaid willmake no difference in you.'

With which consolatory assurance, Peg Sliderskew gathered up the chosensuit, and folding her skinny arms upon the bundle, stood, mouthing, andgrinning, and blinking her watery eyes, like an uncouth figure in somemonstrous piece of carving.

'You're in a funny humour, an't you, Peg?' said Arthur, with not thebest possible grace.

'Why, isn't it enough to make me?' rejoined the old woman. 'I shall,soon enough, be put out, though, if anybody tries to domineer it overme: and so I give you notice, master. Nobody shall be put over PegSliderskew's head, after so many years; you know that, and so I needn'ttell you! That won't do for me--no, no, nor for you. Try that once, andcome to ruin--ruin--ruin!'

'Oh dear, dear, I shall never try it,' said Arthur Gride, appalled bythe mention of the word, 'not for the world. It would be very easy toruin me; we must be very careful; more saving than ever, with anothermouth to feed. Only we--we mustn't let her lose her good looks, Peg,because I like to see 'em.'

'Take care you don't find good looks come expensive,' returned Peg,shaking her forefinger.

'But she can earn money herself, Peg,' said Arthur Gride, eagerlywatching what effect his communication produced upon the old woman'scountenance: 'she can draw, paint, work all manner of pretty things forornamenting stools and chairs: slippers, Peg, watch-guards, hair-chains,and a thousand little dainty trifles that I couldn't give you half thenames of. Then she can play the piano, (and, what's more, she's gotone), and sing like a little bird. She'll be very cheap to dress andkeep, Peg; don't you think she will?'

'If you don't let her make a fool of you, she may,' returned Peg.

'A fool of ME!' exclaimed Arthur. 'Trust your old master not to befooled by pretty faces, Peg; no, no, no--nor by ugly ones neither, MrsSliderskew,' he softly added by way of soliloquy.

'You're a saying something you don't want me to hear,' said Peg; 'I knowyou are.'

'Oh dear! the devil's in this woman,' muttered Arthur; adding with anugly leer, 'I said I trusted everything to you, Peg. That was all.'

'You do that, master, and all your cares are over,' said Pegapprovingly.

'WHEN I do that, Peg Sliderskew,' thought Arthur Gride, 'they will be.'

Although he thought this very distinctly, he durst not move his lipslest the old woman should detect him. He even seemed half afraid thatshe might have read his thoughts; for he leered coaxingly upon her, ashe said aloud:

'Take up all loose stitches in the bottle-green with the best blacksilk. Have a skein of the best, and some new buttons for the coat,and--this is a good idea, Peg, and one you'll like, I know--as I havenever given her anything yet, and girls like such attentions, you shallpolish up a sparking necklace that I have got upstairs, and I'll giveit her upon the wedding morning--clasp it round her charming little neckmyself--and take it away again next day. He, he, he! I'll lock it up forher, Peg, and lose it. Who'll be made the fool of there, I wonder, tobegin with--eh, Peg?'

Mrs Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this ingenious scheme, andexpressed her satisfaction by various rackings and twitchings ofher head and body, which by no means enhanced her charms. These sheprolonged until she had hobbled to the door, when she exchanged themfor a sour malignant look, and twisting her under-jaw from side to side,muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs Gride, as she crept slowlydown the stairs, and paused for breath at nearly every one.

'She's half a witch, I think,' said Arthur Gride, when he found himselfagain alone. 'But she's very frugal, and she's very deaf. Her livingcosts me next to nothing; and it's no use her listening at keyholes; forshe can't hear. She's a charming woman--for the purpose; a most discreetold housekeeper, and worth her weight in--copper.'

Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high terms, oldArthur went back to the burden of his song. The suit destined to gracehis approaching nuptials being now selected, he replaced the others withno less care than he had displayed in drawing them from the musty nookswhere they had silently reposed for many years.

Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this operation, andlocked the press; but there was no need for any particular hurry, as thediscreet Peg seldom knew the bell was rung unless she happened to casther dim eyes upwards, and to see it shaking against the kitchen ceiling.After a short delay, however, Peg tottered in, followed by Newman Noggs.

'Ah! Mr Noggs!' cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his hands. 'My good friend,Mr Noggs, what news do you bring for me?'

Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, and his fixed eye veryfixed indeed, replied, suiting the action to the word, 'A letter. FromMr Nickleby. Bearer waits.'

'Won't you take a--a--'

Newman looked up, and smacked his lips.

'--A chair?' said Arthur Gride.

'No,' replied Newman. 'Thankee.'

Arthur opened the letter with trembling hands, and devoured its contentswith the utmost greediness; chuckling rapturously over it, and readingit several times, before he could take it from before his eyes. Somany times did he peruse and re-peruse it, that Newman considered itexpedient to remind him of his presence.

'Answer,' said Newman. 'Bearer waits.'

'True,' replied old Arthur. 'Yes--yes; I almost forgot, I do declare.'

'I thought you were forgetting,' said Newman.

'Quite right to remind me, Mr Noggs. Oh, very right indeed,' saidArthur. 'Yes. I'll write a line. I'm--I'm--rather flurried, Mr Noggs.The news is--'

'Bad?' interrupted Newman.

'No, Mr Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best of news. Sit down.I'll get the pen and ink, and write a line in answer. I'll not detainyou long. I know you're a treasure to your master, Mr Noggs. He speaksof you in such terms, sometimes, that, oh dear! you'd be astonished. Imay say that I do too, and always did. I always say the same of you.'

'That's "Curse Mr Noggs with all my heart!" then, if you do,' thoughtNewman, as Gride hurried out.

The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully about him for aninstant, Newman, impelled by curiosity to know the result of the designhe had overheard from his office closet, caught it up and rapidly readas follows:

'GRIDE.

'I saw Bray again this morning, and proposed the day after tomorrow (asyou suggested) for the marriage. There is no objection on his part, andall days are alike to his daughter. We will go together, and you must bewith me by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punctual.

'Make no further visits to the girl in the meantime. You have beenthere, of late, much oftener than you should. She does not languish foryou, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your youthful ardour foreight-and-forty hours, and leave her to the father. You only undo whathe does, and does well.

'Yours,

'RALPH NICKLEBY.'

A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the letter on the same spotagain, pressed it with his foot to prevent its fluttering away, regainedhis seat in a single stride, and looked as vacant and unconscious asever mortal looked. Arthur Gride, after peering nervously about him,spied it on the ground, picked it up, and sitting down to write, glancedat Newman Noggs, who was staring at the wall with an intensity soremarkable, that Arthur was quite alarmed.

'Do you see anything particular, Mr Noggs?' said Arthur, trying tofollow the direction of Newman's eyes--which was an impossibility, and athing no man had ever done.

'Only a cobweb,' replied Newman.

'Oh! is that all?'

'No,' said Newman. 'There's a fly in it.'

'There are a good many cobwebs here,' observed Arthur Gride.

'So there are in our place,' returned Newman; 'and flies too.'

Newman appeared to derive great entertainment from this repartee, andto the great discomposure of Arthur Gride's nerves, produced a series ofsharp cracks from his finger-joints, resembling the noise of a distantdischarge of small artillery. Arthur succeeded in finishing his replyto Ralph's note, nevertheless, and at length handed it over to theeccentric messenger for delivery.

'That's it, Mr Noggs,' said Gride.

Newman gave a nod, put it in his hat, and was shuffling away, whenGride, whose doting delight knew no bounds, beckoned him back again, andsaid, in a shrill whisper, and with a grin which puckered up his wholeface, and almost obscured his eyes:

'Will you--will you take a little drop of something--just a taste?'

In good fellowship (if Arthur Gride had been capable of it) Newman wouldnot have drunk with him one bubble of the richest wine that was evermade; but to see what he would be at, and to punish him as much as hecould, he accepted the offer immediately.

Arthur Gride, therefore, again applied himself to the press, and from ashelf laden with tall Flemish drinking-glasses, and quaint bottles:some with necks like so many storks, and others with square Dutch-builtbodies and short fat apoplectic throats: took down one dusty bottle ofpromising appearance, and two glasses of curiously small size.

'You never tasted this,' said Arthur. 'It's EAU-D'OR--golden water. Ilike it on account of its name. It's a delicious name. Water of gold,golden water! O dear me, it seems quite a sin to drink it!'

As his courage appeared to be fast failing him, and he trifled with thestopper in a manner which threatened the dismissal of the bottle to itsold place, Newman took up one of the little glasses, and clinked it,twice or thrice, against the bottle, as a gentle reminder that hehad not been helped yet. With a deep sigh, Arthur Gride slowly filledit--though not to the brim--and then filled his own.

'Stop, stop; don't drink it yet,' he said, laying his hand on Newman's;'it was given to me, twenty years ago, and when I take a little taste,which is ve--ry seldom, I like to think of it beforehand, and teasemyself. We'll drink a toast. Shall we drink a toast, Mr Noggs?'

'Ah!' said Newman, eyeing his little glass impatiently. 'Look sharp.Bearer waits.'

'Why, then, I'll tell you what,' tittered Arthur, 'we'll drink--he, he,he!--we'll drink a lady.'

'THE ladies?' said Newman.

'No, no, Mr Noggs,' replied Gride, arresting his hand, 'A lady. Youwonder to hear me say A lady. I know you do, I know you do. Here'slittle Madeline. That's the toast. Mr Noggs. Little Madeline!'

'Madeline!' said Newman; inwardly adding, 'and God help her!'

The rapidity and unconcern with which Newman dismissed his portion ofthe golden water, had a great effect upon the old man, who sat uprightin his chair, and gazed at him, open-mouthed, as if the sight had takenaway his breath. Quite unmoved, however, Newman left him to sip his ownat leisure, or to pour it back again into the bottle, if he chose,and departed; after greatly outraging the dignity of Peg Sliderskewby brushing past her, in the passage, without a word of apology orrecognition.

Mr Gride and his housekeeper, immediately on being left alone, resolvedthemselves into a committee of ways and means, and discussed thearrangements which should be made for the reception of the young bride.As they were, like some other committees, extremely dull and prolix indebate, this history may pursue the footsteps of Newman Noggs; therebycombining advantage with necessity; for it would have been necessaryto do so under any circumstances, and necessity has no law, as all theworld knows.

'You've been a long time,' said Ralph, when Newman returned.

'HE was a long time,' replied Newman.

'Bah!' cried Ralph impatiently. 'Give me his note, if he gave you one:his message, if he didn't. And don't go away. I want a word with you,sir.'

Newman handed in the note, and looked very virtuous and innocent whilehis employer broke the seal, and glanced his eye over it.

'He'll be sure to come,' muttered Ralph, as he tore it to pieces; 'whyof course, I know he'll be sure to come. What need to say that? Noggs!Pray, sir, what man was that, with whom I saw you in the street lastnight?'

'I don't know,' replied Newman.

'You had better refresh your memory, sir,' said Ralph, with athreatening look.

'I tell you,' returned Newman boldly, 'that I don't know. He came heretwice, and asked for you. You were out. He came again. You packed himoff, yourself. He gave the name of Brooker.'

'I know he did,' said Ralph; 'what then?'

'What then? Why, then he lurked about and dogged me in the street. Hefollows me, night after night, and urges me to bring him face to facewith you; as he says he has been once, and not long ago either. Hewants to see you face to face, he says, and you'll soon hear him out, hewarrants.'

'And what say you to that?' inquired Ralph, looking keenly at hisdrudge.

'That it's no business of mine, and I won't. I told him he might catchyou in the street, if that was all he wanted, but no! that wouldn't do.You wouldn't hear a word there, he said. He must have you alone in aroom with the door locked, where he could speak without fear, and you'dsoon change your tone, and hear him patiently.'

'An audacious dog!' Ralph muttered.

'That's all I know,' said Newman. 'I say again, I don't know what manhe is. I don't believe he knows himself. You have seen him; perhaps YOUdo.'

'I think I do,' replied Ralph.

'Well,' retored Newman, sulkily, 'don't expect me to know him too;that's all. You'll ask me, next, why I never told you this before. Whatwould you say, if I was to tell you all that people say of you? Whatdo you call me when I sometimes do? "Brute, ass!" and snap at me like adragon.'

This was true enough; though the question which Newman anticipated, was,in fact, upon Ralph's lips at the moment.

'He is an idle ruffian,' said Ralph; 'a vagabond from beyond the seawhere he travelled for his crimes; a felon let loose to run his neckinto the halter; a swindler, who has the audacity to try his schemes onme who know him well. The next time he tampers with you, hand him overto the police, for attempting to extort money by lies and threats,--d'yehear?--and leave the rest to me. He shall cool his heels in jail alittle time, and I'll be bound he looks for other folks to fleece, whenhe comes out. You mind what I say, do you?'

'I hear,' said Newman.

'Do it then,' returned Ralph, 'and I'll reward you. Now, you may go.'

Newman readily availed himself of the permission, and, shutting himselfup in his little office, remained there, in very serious cogitation,all day. When he was released at night, he proceeded, with all theexpedition he could use, to the city, and took up his old positionbehind the pump, to watch for Nicholas. For Newman Noggs was proud inhis way, and could not bear to appear as his friend, before the brothersCheeryble, in the shabby and degraded state to which he was reduced.

He had not occupied this position many minutes, when he was rejoiced tosee Nicholas approaching, and darted out from his ambuscade to meet him.Nicholas, on his part, was no less pleased to encounter his friend, whomhe had not seen for some time; so, their greeting was a warm one.

'I was thinking of you, at that moment,' said Nicholas.

'That's right,' rejoined Newman, 'and I of you. I couldn't help comingup, tonight. I say, I think I am going to find out something.'

'And what may that be?' returned Nicholas, smiling at this oddcommunication.

'I don't know what it may be, I don't know what it may not be,' saidNewman; 'it's some secret in which your uncle is concerned, butwhat, I've not yet been able to discover, although I have my strongsuspicions. I'll not hint 'em now, in case you should be disappointed.'

'I disappointed!' cried Nicholas; 'am I interested?'

'I think you are,' replied Newman. 'I have a crotchet in my head that itmust be so. I have found out a man, who plainly knows more than he caresto tell at once. And he has already dropped such hints to me as puzzleme--I say, as puzzle me,' said Newman, scratching his red nose intoa state of violent inflammation, and staring at Nicholas with all hismight and main meanwhile.

Admiring what could have wound his friend up to such a pitch of mystery,Nicholas endeavoured, by a series of questions, to elucidate the cause;but in vain. Newman could not be drawn into any more explicit statementthan a repetition of the perplexities he had already thrown out, anda confused oration, showing, How it was necessary to use the utmostcaution; how the lynx-eyed Ralph had already seen him in company withhis unknown correspondent; and how he had baffled the said Ralph byextreme guardedness of manner and ingenuity of speech; having preparedhimself for such a contingency from the first.

Remembering his companion's propensity,--of which his nose, indeed,perpetually warned all beholders like a beacon,--Nicholas had drawn himinto a sequestered tavern. Here, they fell to reviewing the origin andprogress of their acquaintance, as men sometimes do, and tracing out thelittle events by which it was most strongly marked, came at last to MissCecilia Bobster.

'And that reminds me,' said Newman, 'that you never told me the younglady's real name.'

'Madeline!' said Nicholas.

'Madeline!' cried Newman. 'What Madeline? Her other name. Say her othername.'

'Bray,' said Nicholas, in great astonishment.

'It's the same!' cried Newman. 'Sad story! Can you stand idly by, andlet that unnatural marriage take place without one attempt to save her?'

'What do you mean?' exclaimed Nicholas, starting up; 'marriage! are youmad?'

'Are you? Is she? Are you blind, deaf, senseless, dead?' said Newman.'Do you know that within one day, by means of your uncle Ralph, she willbe married to a man as bad as he, and worse, if worse there is? Do youknow that, within one day, she will be sacrificed, as sure as you standthere alive, to a hoary wretch--a devil born and bred, and grey indevils' ways?'

'Be careful what you say,' replied Nicholas. 'For Heaven's sake becareful! I am left here alone, and those who could stretch out a hand torescue her are far away. What is it that you mean?'

'I never heard her name,' said Newman, choking with his energy. 'Whydidn't you tell me? How was I to know? We might, at least, have had sometime to think!'

'What is it that you mean?' cried Nicholas.

It was not an easy task to arrive at this information; but, after agreat quantity of extraordinary pantomime, which in no way assisted it,Nicholas, who was almost as wild as Newman Noggs himself, forced thelatter down upon his seat and held him down until he began his tale.

Rage, astonishment, indignation, and a storm of passions, rushed throughthe listener's heart, as the plot was laid bare. He no sooner understoodit all, than with a face of ashy paleness, and trembling in every limb,he darted from the house.

'Stop him!' cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit. 'He'll be doingsomething desperate; he'll murder somebody. Hallo! there, stop him. Stopthief! stop thief!'