Although Mrs Nickleby had been made acquainted by her son and daughterwith every circumstance of Madeline Bray's history which was known tothem; although the responsible situation in which Nicholas stood hadbeen carefully explained to her, and she had been prepared, even forthe possible contingency of having to receive the young lady in herown house, improbable as such a result had appeared only a few minutesbefore it came about, still, Mrs Nickleby, from the moment when thisconfidence was first reposed in her, late on the previous evening, hadremained in an unsatisfactory and profoundly mystified state, from whichno explanations or arguments could relieve her, and which every freshsoliloquy and reflection only aggravated more and more.

'Bless my heart, Kate!' so the good lady argued; 'if the Mr Cheeryblesdon't want this young lady to be married, why don't they file a billagainst the Lord Chancellor, make her a Chancery ward, and shut herup in the Fleet prison for safety?--I have read of such things in thenewspapers a hundred times. Or, if they are so very fond of her asNicholas says they are, why don't they marry her themselves--one of themI mean? And even supposing they don't want her to be married, and don'twant to marry her themselves, why in the name of wonder should Nicholasgo about the world, forbidding people's banns?'

'I don't think you quite understand,' said Kate, gently.

'Well I am sure, Kate, my dear, you're very polite!' replied MrsNickleby. 'I have been married myself I hope, and I have seen otherpeople married. Not understand, indeed!'

'I know you have had great experience, dear mama,' said Kate; 'I meanthat perhaps you don't quite understand all the circumstances in thisinstance. We have stated them awkwardly, I dare say.'

'That I dare say you have,' retorted her mother, briskly. 'That's verylikely. I am not to be held accountable for that; though, at the sametime, as the circumstances speak for themselves, I shall take theliberty, my love, of saying that I do understand them, and perfectlywell too; whatever you and Nicholas may choose to think to the contrary.Why is such a great fuss made because this Miss Magdalen is going tomarry somebody who is older than herself? Your poor papa was older thanI was, four years and a half older. Jane Dibabs--the Dibabses lived inthe beautiful little thatched white house one story high, covered allover with ivy and creeping plants, with an exquisite little porch withtwining honysuckles and all sorts of things: where the earwigs usedto fall into one's tea on a summer evening, and always fell upon theirbacks and kicked dreadfully, and where the frogs used to get into therushlight shades when one stopped all night, and sit up and look throughthe little holes like Christians--Jane Dibabs, SHE married a man who wasa great deal older than herself, and WOULD marry him, notwithstandingall that could be said to the contrary, and she was so fond of him thatnothing was ever equal to it. There was no fuss made about Jane Dibabs,and her husband was a most honourable and excellent man, and everybodyspoke well of him. Then why should there by any fuss about thisMagdalen?'

'Her husband is much older; he is not her own choice; his character isthe very reverse of that which you have just described. Don't you see abroad destinction between the two cases?' said Kate.

To this, Mrs Nickleby only replied that she durst say she was verystupid, indeed she had no doubt she was, for her own children almost asmuch as told her so, every day of her life; to be sure she was a littleolder than they, and perhaps some foolish people might think she oughtreasonably to know best. However, no doubt she was wrong; of course shewas; she always was, she couldn't be right, she couldn't be expectedto be; so she had better not expose herself any more; and to all Kate'sconciliations and concessions for an hour ensuing, the good lady gave noother replies than Oh, certainly, why did they ask HER?, HER opinionwas of no consequence, it didn't matter what SHE said, with many otherrejoinders of the same class.

In this frame of mind (expressed, when she had become too resignedfor speech, by nods of the head, upliftings of the eyes, and littlebeginnings of groans, converted, as they attracted attention, into shortcoughs), Mrs Nickleby remained until Nicholas and Kate returned with theobject of their solicitude; when, having by this time asserted her ownimportance, and becoming besides interested in the trials of oneso young and beautiful, she not only displayed the utmost zeal andsolicitude, but took great credit to herself for recommending the courseof procedure which her son had adopted: frequently declaring, with anexpressive look, that it was very fortunate things were AS they were:and hinting, that but for great encouragement and wisdom on her ownpart, they never could have been brought to that pass.

Not to strain the question whether Mrs Nickleby had or had not any greathand in bringing matters about, it is unquestionable that she had strongground for exultation. The brothers, on their return, bestowed suchcommendations on Nicholas for the part he had taken, and evinced somuch joy at the altered state of events and the recovery of their youngfriend from trials so great and dangers so threatening, that, as shemore than once informed her daughter, she now considered the fortunes ofthe family 'as good as' made. Mr Charles Cheeryble, indeed, Mrs Nicklebypositively asserted, had, in the first transports of his surprise anddelight, 'as good as' said so. Without precisely explaining what thisqualification meant, she subsided, whenever she mentioned the subject,into such a mysterious and important state, and had such visions ofwealth and dignity in perspective, that (vague and clouded though theywere) she was, at such times, almost as happy as if she had really beenpermanently provided for, on a scale of great splendour.

The sudden and terrible shock she had received, combined with the greataffliction and anxiety of mind which she had, for a long time, endured,proved too much for Madeline's strength. Recovering from the state ofstupefaction into which the sudden death of her father happily plungedher, she only exchanged that condition for one of dangerous and activeillness. When the delicate physical powers which have been sustainedby an unnatural strain upon the mental energies and a resolutedetermination not to yield, at last give way, their degree ofprostration is usually proportionate to the strength of the effort whichhas previously upheld them. Thus it was that the illness which fellon Madeline was of no slight or temporary nature, but one which, for atime, threatened her reason, and--scarcely worse--her life itself.

Who, slowly recovering from a disorder so severe and dangerous, couldbe insensible to the unremitting attentions of such a nurse as gentle,tender, earnest Kate? On whom could the sweet soft voice, the lightstep, the delicate hand, the quiet, cheerful, noiseless discharge ofthose thousand little offices of kindness and relief which we feel sodeeply when we are ill, and forget so lightly when we are well--on whomcould they make so deep an impression as on a young heart stored withevery pure and true affection that women cherish; almost a stranger tothe endearments and devotion of its own sex, save as it learnt them fromitself; and rendered, by calamity and suffering, keenly susceptible ofthe sympathy so long unknown and so long sought in vain? What wonderthat days became as years in knitting them together! What wonder,if with every hour of returning health, there came some stronger andsweeter recognition of the praises which Kate, when they recalled oldscenes--they seemed old now, and to have been acted years ago--wouldlavish on her brother! Where would have been the wonder, even, if thosepraises had found a quick response in the breast of Madeline, and if,with the image of Nicholas so constantly recurring in the features ofhis sister that she could scarcely separate the two, she had sometimesfound it equally difficult to assign to each the feelings they had firstinspired, and had imperceptibly mingled with her gratitude to Nicholas,some of that warmer feeling which she had assigned to Kate?

'My dear,' Mrs Nickleby would say, coming into the room with anelaborate caution, calculated to discompose the nerves of an invalidrather more than the entry of a horse-soldier at full gallop; 'how doyou find yourself tonight? I hope you are better.'

'Almost well, mama,' Kate would reply, laying down her work, and takingMadeline's hand in hers.

'Kate!' Mrs Nickleby would say, reprovingly, 'don't talk so loud' (theworthy lady herself talking in a whisper that would have made the bloodof the stoutest man run cold in his veins).

Kate would take this reproof very quietly, and Mrs Nickleby, makingevery board creak and every thread rustle as she moved stealthily about,would add:

'My son Nicholas has just come home, and I have come, according tocustom, my dear, to know, from your own lips, exactly how you are; forhe won't take my account, and never will.'

'He is later than usual to-night,' perhaps Madeline would reply. 'Nearlyhalf an hour.'

'Well, I never saw such people in all my life as you are, for time, uphere!' Mrs Nickleby would exclaim in great astonishment; 'I declare Inever did! I had not the least idea that Nicholas was after his time,not the smallest. Mr Nickleby used to say--your poor papa, I am speakingof, Kate my dear--used to say, that appetite was the best clock in theworld, but you have no appetite, my dear Miss Bray, I wish you had, andupon my word I really think you ought to take something that would giveyou one. I am sure I don't know, but I have heard that two or threedozen native lobsters give an appetite, though that comes to the samething after all, for I suppose you must have an appetite before you cantake 'em. If I said lobsters, I meant oysters, but of course it's allthe same, though really how you came to know about Nicholas--'

'We happened to be just talking about him, mama; that was it.'

'You never seem to me to be talking about anything else, Kate, and uponmy word I am quite surprised at your being so very thoughtless. Youcan find subjects enough to talk about sometimes, and when you know howimportant it is to keep up Miss Bray's spirits, and interest her, andall that, it really is quite extraordinary to me what can induce you tokeep on prose, prose, prose, din, din, din, everlastingly, upon the sametheme. You are a very kind nurse, Kate, and a very good one, and I knowyou mean very well; but I will say this--that if it wasn't for me, Ireally don't know what would become of Miss Bray's spirits, and so Itell the doctor every day. He says he wonders how I sustain my own, andI am sure I very often wonder myself how I can contrive to keep up as Ido. Of course it's an exertion, but still, when I know how muchdepends upon me in this house, I am obliged to make it. There's nothingpraiseworthy in that, but it's necessary, and I do it.'

With that, Mrs Nickleby would draw up a chair, and for somethree-quarters of an hour run through a great variety of distractingtopics in the most distracting manner possible; tearing herself away,at length, on the plea that she must now go and amuse Nicholas whilehe took his supper. After a preliminary raising of his spirits with theinformation that she considered the patient decidedly worse, she wouldfurther cheer him up by relating how dull, listless, and low-spiritedMiss Bray was, because Kate foolishly talked about nothing else but himand family matters. When she had made Nicholas thoroughly comfortablewith these and other inspiriting remarks, she would discourse at lengthon the arduous duties she had performed that day; and, sometimes, bemoved to tears in wondering how, if anything were to happen to herself,the family would ever get on without her.

At other times, when Nicholas came home at night, he would beaccompanied by Mr Frank Cheeryble, who was commissioned by the brothersto inquire how Madeline was that evening. On such occasions (and theywere of very frequent occurrence), Mrs Nickleby deemed it of particularimportance that she should have her wits about her; for, from certainsigns and tokens which had attracted her attention, she shrewdlysuspected that Mr Frank, interested as his uncles were in Madeline, camequite as much to see Kate as to inquire after her; the more especiallyas the brothers were in constant communication with the medical man,came backwards and forwards very frequently themselves, and received afull report from Nicholas every morning. These were proud times for MrsNickleby; never was anybody half so discreet and sage as she, or halfso mysterious withal; and never were there such cunning generalship, andsuch unfathomable designs, as she brought to bear upon Mr Frank, withthe view of ascertaining whether her suspicions were well founded:and if so, of tantalising him into taking her into his confidence andthrowing himself upon her merciful consideration. Extensive was theartillery, heavy and light, which Mrs Nickleby brought into play for thefurtherance of these great schemes; various and opposite the means whichshe employed to bring about the end she had in view. At one time, shewas all cordiality and ease; at another, all stiffness and frigidity.Now, she would seem to open her whole heart to her unhappy victim; thenext time they met, she would receive him with the most distant andstudious reserve, as if a new light had broken in upon her, and,guessing his intentions, she had resolved to check them in the bud; asif she felt it her bounden duty to act with Spartan firmness, and atonce and for ever to discourage hopes which never could be realised.At other times, when Nicholas was not there to overhear, and Kate wasupstairs busily tending her sick friend, the worthy lady would throw outdark hints of an intention to send her daughter to France for three orfour years, or to Scotland for the improvement of her health impaired byher late fatigues, or to America on a visit, or anywhere that threateneda long and tedious separation. Nay, she even went so far as to hint,obscurely, at an attachment entertained for her daughter by the son ofan old neighbour of theirs, one Horatio Peltirogus (a young gentlemanwho might have been, at that time, four years old, or thereabouts),and to represent it, indeed, as almost a settled thing between thefamilies--only waiting for her daughter's final decision, to come offwith the sanction of the church, and to the unspeakable happiness andcontent of all parties.

It was in the full pride and glory of having sprung this last mine onenight with extraordinary success, that Mrs Nickleby took the opportunityof being left alone with her son before retiring to rest, to sound himon the subject which so occupied her thoughts: not doubting that theycould have but one opinion respecting it. To this end, she approachedthe question with divers laudatory and appropriate remarks touching thegeneral amiability of Mr Frank Cheeryble.

'You are quite right, mother,' said Nicholas, 'quite right. He is a finefellow.'

'Good-looking, too,' said Mrs Nickleby.

'Decidedly good-looking,' answered Nicholas.

'What may you call his nose, now, my dear?' pursued Mrs Nickleby,wishing to interest Nicholas in the subject to the utmost.

'Call it?' repeated Nicholas.

'Ah!' returned his mother, 'what style of nose? What order ofarchitecture, if one may say so. I am not very learned in noses. Do youcall it a Roman or a Grecian?'

'Upon my word, mother,' said Nicholas, laughing, 'as well as I remember,I should call it a kind of Composite, or mixed nose. But I have novery strong recollection on the subject. If it will afford you anygratification, I'll observe it more closely, and let you know.'

'I wish you would, my dear,' said Mrs Nickleby, with an earnest look.

'Very well,' returned Nicholas. 'I will.'

Nicholas returned to the perusal of the book he had been reading, whenthe dialogue had gone thus far. Mrs Nickleby, after stopping a littlefor consideration, resumed.

'He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear.'

Nicholas laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he was glad tohear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep in their new friend'sconfidence already.

'Hem!' said Mrs Nickleby. 'I don't know about that, my dear, but I thinkit is very necessary that somebody should be in his confidence; highlynecessary.'

Elated by a look of curiosity from her son, and the consciousness ofpossessing a great secret, all to herself, Mrs Nickleby went on withgreat animation:

'I am sure, my dear Nicholas, how you can have failed to notice it, is,to me, quite extraordinary; though I don't know why I should say that,either, because, of course, as far as it goes, and to a certain extent,there is a great deal in this sort of thing, especially in this earlystage, which, however clear it may be to females, can scarcely beexpected to be so evident to men. I don't say that I have any particularpenetration in such matters. I may have; those about me should knowbest about that, and perhaps do know. Upon that point I shall express noopinion, it wouldn't become me to do so, it's quite out of the question,quite.'

Nicholas snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets, and, leaningback in his chair, assumed a look of patient suffering and melancholyresignation.

'I think it my duty, Nicholas, my dear,' resumed his mother, 'to tellyou what I know: not only because you have a right to know it too, andto know everything that happens in this family, but because you have itin your power to promote and assist the thing very much; and there isno doubt that the sooner one can come to a clear understanding on suchsubjects, it is always better, every way. There are a great many thingsyou might do; such as taking a walk in the garden sometimes, or sittingupstairs in your own room for a little while, or making believe to fallasleep occasionally, or pretending that you recollected some business,and going out for an hour or so, and taking Mr Smike with you. Theseseem very slight things, and I dare say you will be amused at my makingthem of so much importance; at the same time, my dear, I can assure you(and you'll find this out, Nicholas, for yourself one of these days,if you ever fall in love with anybody; as I trust and hope you will,provided she is respectable and well conducted, and of course you'dnever dream of falling in love with anybody who was not), I say, I canassure you that a great deal more depends upon these little things thanyou would suppose possible. If your poor papa was alive, he would tellyou how much depended on the parties being left alone. Of course, youare not to go out of the room as if you meant it and did it on purpose,but as if it was quite an accident, and to come back again in the sameway. If you cough in the passage before you open the door, or whistlecarelessly, or hum a tune, or something of that sort, to let them knowyou're coming, it's always better; because, of course, though it's notonly natural but perfectly correct and proper under the circumstances,still it is very confusing if you interrupt young people when theyare--when they are sitting on the sofa, and--and all that sort of thing:which is very nonsensical, perhaps, but still they will do it.'

The profound astonishment with which her son regarded her during thislong address, gradually increasing as it approached its climax in noway discomposed Mrs Nickleby, but rather exalted her opinion of her owncleverness; therefore, merely stopping to remark, with much complacency,that she had fully expected him to be surprised, she entered on a vastquantity of circumstantial evidence of a particularly incoherent andperplexing kind; the upshot of which was, to establish, beyond thepossibility of doubt, that Mr Frank Cheeryble had fallen desperately inlove with Kate.

'With whom?' cried Nicholas.

Mrs Nickleby repeated, with Kate.

'What! OUR Kate! My sister!'

'Lord, Nicholas!' returned Mrs Nickleby, 'whose Kate should it be, ifnot ours; or what should I care about it, or take any interest in itfor, if it was anybody but your sister?'

'Dear mother,' said Nicholas, 'surely it can't be!'

'Very good, my dear,' replied Mrs Nickleby, with great confidence. 'Waitand see.'

Nicholas had never, until that moment, bestowed a thought uponthe remote possibility of such an occurrence as that which was nowcommunicated to him; for, besides that he had been much from home oflate and closely occupied with other matters, his own jealous fears hadprompted the suspicion that some secret interest in Madeline, akin tothat which he felt himself, occasioned those visits of Frank Cheeryblewhich had recently become so frequent. Even now, although he knew thatthe observation of an anxious mother was much more likely to be correctin such a case than his own, and although she reminded him of manylittle circumstances which, taken together, were certainly susceptibleof the construction she triumphantly put upon them, he was not quiteconvinced but that they arose from mere good-natured thoughtlessgallantry, which would have dictated the same conduct towards anyother girl who was young and pleasing. At all events, he hoped so, andtherefore tried to believe it.

'I am very much disturbed by what you tell me,' said Nicholas, after alittle reflection, 'though I yet hope you may be mistaken.'

'I don't understand why you should hope so,' said Mrs Nickleby, 'Iconfess; but you may depend upon it I am not.'

'What of Kate?' inquired Nicholas.

'Why that, my dear,' returned Mrs Nickleby, 'is just the point uponwhich I am not yet satisfied. During this sickness, she has beenconstantly at Madeline's bedside--never were two people so fond of eachother as they have grown--and to tell you the truth, Nicholas, I haverather kept her away now and then, because I think it's a good plan, andurges a young man on. He doesn't get too sure, you know.'

She said this with such a mingling of high delight andself-congratulation, that it was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas todash her hopes; but he felt that there was only one honourable coursebefore him, and that he was bound to take it.

'Dear mother,' he said kindly, 'don't you see that if there were reallyany serious inclination on the part of Mr Frank towards Kate, and wesuffered ourselves for a moment to encourage it, we should be acting amost dishonourable and ungrateful part? I ask you if you don't see it,but I need not say that I know you don't, or you would have been morestrictly on your guard. Let me explain my meaning to you. Remember howpoor we are.'

Mrs Nickleby shook her head, and said, through her tears, that povertywas not a crime.

'No,' said Nicholas, 'and for that reason poverty should engender anhonest pride, that it may not lead and tempt us to unworthy actions, andthat we may preserve the self-respect which a hewer of wood and drawerof water may maintain, and does better in maintaining than a monarch inpreserving his. Think what we owe to these two brothers: remember whatthey have done, and what they do every day for us with a generosityand delicacy for which the devotion of our whole lives would be a mostimperfect and inadequate return. What kind of return would that be whichwould be comprised in our permitting their nephew, their only relative,whom they regard as a son, and for whom it would be mere childishness tosuppose they have not formed plans suitably adapted to the education hehas had, and the fortune he will inherit--in our permitting him to marrya portionless girl: so closely connected with us, that the irresistibleinference must be, that he was entrapped by a plot; that it was adeliberate scheme, and a speculation amongst us three? Bring the matterclearly before yourself, mother. Now, how would you feel, if they weremarried, and the brothers, coming here on one of those kind errandswhich bring them here so often, you had to break out to them the truth?Would you be at ease, and feel that you had played an open part?'

Poor Mrs Nickleby, crying more and more, murmured that of course MrFrank would ask the consent of his uncles first.

'Why, to be sure, that would place HIM in a better situation with them,'said Nicholas, 'but we should still be open to the same suspicions; thedistance between us would still be as great; the advantages to be gainedwould still be as manifest as now. We may be reckoning without our hostin all this,' he added more cheerfully, 'and I trust, and almost believewe are. If it be otherwise, I have that confidence in Kate that I knowshe will feel as I do--and in you, dear mother, to be assured that aftera little consideration you will do the same.'

After many more representations and entreaties, Nicholas obtained apromise from Mrs Nickleby that she would try all she could to thinkas he did; and that if Mr Frank persevered in his attentions she wouldendeavour to discourage them, or, at the least, would render him nocountenance or assistance. He determined to forbear mentioning thesubject to Kate until he was quite convinced that there existed a realnecessity for his doing so; and resolved to assure himself, as wellas he could by close personal observation, of the exact position ofaffairs. This was a very wise resolution, but he was prevented fromputting it in practice by a new source of anxiety and uneasiness.

Smike became alarmingly ill; so reduced and exhausted that he couldscarcely move from room to room without assistance; and so worn andemaciated, that it was painful to look upon him. Nicholas was warned,by the same medical authority to whom he had at first appealed, that thelast chance and hope of his life depended on his being instantly removedfrom London. That part of Devonshire in which Nicholas had beenhimself bred was named as the most favourable spot; but this advice wascautiously coupled with the information, that whoever accompaniedhim thither must be prepared for the worst; for every token of rapidconsumption had appeared, and he might never return alive.

The kind brothers, who were acquainted with the poor creature's sadhistory, dispatched old Tim to be present at this consultation. Thatsame morning, Nicholas was summoned by brother Charles into his privateroom, and thus addressed:

'My dear sir, no time must be lost. This lad shall not die, if suchhuman means as we can use can save his life; neither shall he die alone,and in a strange place. Remove him tomorrow morning, see that he hasevery comfort that his situation requires, and don't leave him; don'tleave him, my dear sir, until you know that there is no longer anyimmediate danger. It would be hard, indeed, to part you now. No, no, no!Tim shall wait upon you tonight, sir; Tim shall wait upon you tonightwith a parting word or two. Brother Ned, my dear fellow, Mr Nicklebywaits to shake hands and say goodbye; Mr Nickleby won't be long gone;this poor chap will soon get better, very soon get better; and thenhe'll find out some nice homely country-people to leave him with, andwill go backwards and forwards sometimes--backwards and forwards youknow, Ned. And there's no cause to be downhearted, for he'll very soonget better, very soon. Won't he, won't he, Ned?'

What Tim Linkinwater said, or what he brought with him that night, needsnot to be told. Next morning Nicholas and his feeble companion begantheir journey.

And who but one--and that one he who, but for those who crowdedround him then, had never met a look of kindness, or known a wordof pity--could tell what agony of mind, what blighted thoughts, whatunavailing sorrow, were involved in that sad parting?

'See,' cried Nicholas eagerly, as he looked from the coach window, 'theyare at the corner of the lane still! And now there's Kate, poorKate, whom you said you couldn't bear to say goodbye to, waving herhandkerchief. Don't go without one gesture of farewell to Kate!'

'I cannot make it!' cried his trembling companion, falling back in hisseat and covering his eyes. 'Do you see her now? Is she there still?'

'Yes, yes!' said Nicholas earnestly. 'There! She waves her hand again! Ihave answered it for you--and now they are out of sight. Do not give wayso bitterly, dear friend, don't. You will meet them all again.'

He whom he thus encouraged, raised his withered hands and clasped themfervently together.

'In heaven. I humbly pray to God in heaven.'

It sounded like the prayer of a broken heart.