On the next morning after Brooker's disclosure had been made, Nicholasreturned home. The meeting between him and those whom he had left therewas not without strong emotion on both sides; for they had been informedby his letters of what had occurred: and, besides that his griefswere theirs, they mourned with him the death of one whose forlorn andhelpless state had first established a claim upon their compassion,and whose truth of heart and grateful earnest nature had, every day,endeared him to them more and more.

'I am sure,' said Mrs Nickleby, wiping her eyes, and sobbing bitterly,'I have lost the best, the most zealous, and most attentive creaturethat has ever been a companion to me in my life--putting you, my dearNicholas, and Kate, and your poor papa, and that well-behaved nurse whoran away with the linen and the twelve small forks, out of the question,of course. Of all the tractable, equal-tempered, attached, and faithfulbeings that ever lived, I believe he was the most so. To look round uponthe garden, now, that he took so much pride in, or to go into his roomand see it filled with so many of those little contrivances for ourcomfort that he was so fond of making, and made so well, and so littlethought he would leave unfinished--I can't bear it, I cannot really. Ah!This is a great trial to me, a great trial. It will be comfort to you,my dear Nicholas, to the end of your life, to recollect how kindand good you always were to him--so it will be to me, to think whatexcellent terms we were always upon, and how fond he always was of me,poor fellow! It was very natural you should have been attached to him,my dear--very--and of course you were, and are very much cut up by this.I am sure it's only necessary to look at you and see how changedyou are, to see that; but nobody knows what my feelings are--nobodycan--it's quite impossible!'

While Mrs Nickleby, with the utmost sincerity, gave vent to her sorrowsafter her own peculiar fashion of considering herself foremost, shewas not the only one who indulged such feelings. Kate, although wellaccustomed to forget herself when others were to be considered, couldnot repress her grief; Madeline was scarcely less moved than she; andpoor, hearty, honest little Miss La Creevy, who had come upon one of hervisits while Nicholas was away, and had done nothing, since the sad newsarrived, but console and cheer them all, no sooner beheld him comingin at the door, than she sat herself down upon the stairs, and burstinginto a flood of tears, refused for a long time to be comforted.

'It hurts me so,' cried the poor body, 'to see him come back alone. Ican't help thinking what he must have suffered himself. I wouldn't mindso much if he gave way a little more; but he bears it so manfully.'

'Why, so I should,' said Nicholas, 'should I not?'

'Yes, yes,' replied the little woman, 'and bless you for a goodcreature! but this does seem at first to a simple soul like me--I knowit's wrong to say so, and I shall be sorry for it presently--this doesseem such a poor reward for all you have done.'

'Nay,' said Nicholas gently, 'what better reward could I have, thanthe knowledge that his last days were peaceful and happy, and therecollection that I was his constant companion, and was not prevented,as I might have been by a hundred circumstances, from being beside him?'

'To be sure,' sobbed Miss La Creevy; 'it's very true, and I'm anungrateful, impious, wicked little fool, I know.'

With that, the good soul fell to crying afresh, and, endeavouring torecover herself, tried to laugh. The laugh and the cry, meeting eachother thus abruptly, had a struggle for the mastery; the result was,that it was a drawn battle, and Miss La Creevy went into hysterics.

Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed again,Nicholas, who stood in need of some rest after his long journey, retiredto his own room, and throwing himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed,fell into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he found Kate sitting by hisbedside, who, seeing that he had opened his eyes, stooped down to kisshim.

'I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home again.'

'But I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate.'

'We have been wearying so for your return,' said Kate, 'mama and I,and--and Madeline.'

'You said in your last letter that she was quite well,' said Nicholas,rather hastily, and colouring as he spoke. 'Has nothing been said, sinceI have been away, about any future arrangements that the brothers havein contemplation for her?'

'Oh, not a word,' replied Kate. 'I can't think of parting from herwithout sorrow; and surely, Nicholas, YOU don't wish it!'

Nicholas coloured again, and, sitting down beside his sister on a littlecouch near the window, said:

'No, Kate, no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my real feelingsfrom anybody but you; but I will tell you that--briefly and plainly,Kate--that I love her.'

Kate's eyes brightened, and she was going to make some reply, whenNicholas laid his hand upon her arm, and went on:

'Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all.'

'Dear Nicholas!'

'Last of all; never, though never is a long day. Sometimes, I try tothink that the time may come when I may honestly tell her this; but itis so far off; in such distant perspective, so many years must elapsebefore it comes, and when it does come (if ever) I shall be sounlike what I am now, and shall have so outlived my days of youth andromance--though not, I am sure, of love for her--that even I feel howvisionary all such hopes must be, and try to crush them rudely myself,and have the pain over, rather than suffer time to wither them, and keepthe disappointment in store. No, Kate! Since I have been absent, Ihave had, in that poor fellow who is gone, perpetually before my eyes,another instance of the munificent liberality of these noble brothers.As far as in me lies, I will deserve it, and if I have wavered inmy bounden duty to them before, I am now determined to discharge itrigidly, and to put further delays and temptations beyond my reach.'

'Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,' said Kate, turning pale,'you must hear what I have to tell you. I came on purpose, but I had notthe courage. What you say now, gives me new heart.' She faltered, andburst into tears.

There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas for what wascoming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears prevented her.

'Come, you foolish girl,' said Nicholas; 'why, Kate, Kate, be a woman! Ithink I know what you would tell me. It concerns Mr Frank, does it not?'

Kate sunk her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out 'Yes.'

'And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since I have been away,' saidNicholas; 'is that it? Yes. Well, well; it is not so difficult, you see,to tell me, after all. He offered you his hand?'

'Which I refused,' said Kate.

'Yes; and why?'

'I told him,' she said, in a trembling voice, 'all that I have sincefound you told mama; and while I could not conceal from him, and cannotfrom you, that--that it was a pang and a great trial, I did so firmly,and begged him not to see me any more.'

'That's my own brave Kate!' said Nicholas, pressing her to his breast.'I knew you would.'

'He tried to alter my resolution,' said Kate, 'and declared that, be mydecision what it might, he would not only inform his uncles of thestep he had taken, but would communicate it to you also, directly youreturned. I am afraid,' she added, her momentary composure forsakingher, 'I am afraid I may not have said, strongly enough, how deeply Ifelt such disinterested love, and how earnestly I prayed for his futurehappiness. If you do talk together, I should--I should like him to knowthat.'

'And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this sacrifice to whatyou knew was right and honourable, that I should shrink from mine?' saidNicholas tenderly.

'Oh no! not if your position had been the same, but--'

'But it is the same,' interrupted Nicholas. 'Madeline is not the nearrelation of our benefactors, but she is closely bound to them by ties asdear; and I was first intrusted with her history, specially because theyreposed unbounded confidence in me, and believed that I was as true assteel. How base would it be of me to take advantage of the circumstanceswhich placed her here, or of the slight service I was happily able torender her, and to seek to engage her affections when the result mustbe, if I succeeded, that the brothers would be disappointed in theirdarling wish of establishing her as their own child, and that I mustseem to hope to build my fortunes on their compassion for the youngcreature whom I had so meanly and unworthily entrapped: turning her verygratitude and warmth of heart to my own purpose and account, and tradingin her misfortunes! I, too, whose duty, and pride, and pleasure, Kate,it is to have other claims upon me which I will never forget; and whohave the means of a comfortable and happy life already, and have noright to look beyond it! I have determined to remove this weight from mymind. I doubt whether I have not done wrong, even now; and today Iwill, without reserve or equivocation, disclose my real reasons to MrCherryble, and implore him to take immediate measures for removing thisyoung lady to the shelter of some other roof.'

'Today? so very soon?'

'I have thought of this for weeks, and why should I postpone it? If thescene through which I have just passed has taught me to reflect, and hasawakened me to a more anxious and careful sense of duty, why should Iwait until the impression has cooled? You would not dissuade me, Kate;now would you?'

'You may grow rich, you know,' said Kate.

'I may grow rich!' repeated Nicholas, with a mournful smile, 'ay, andI may grow old! But rich or poor, or old or young, we shall ever be thesame to each other, and in that our comfort lies. What if we have butone home? It can never be a solitary one to you and me. What if we wereto remain so true to these first impressions as to form no others? It isbut one more link to the strong chain that binds us together. It seemsbut yesterday that we were playfellows, Kate, and it will seem buttomorrow when we are staid old people, looking back to these cares as welook back, now, to those of our childish days: and recollecting with amelancholy pleasure that the time was, when they could move us. Perhapsthen, when we are quaint old folks and talk of the times when our stepwas lighter and our hair not grey, we may be even thankful for thetrials that so endeared us to each other, and turned our lives into thatcurrent, down which we shall have glided so peacefully and calmly. Andhaving caught some inkling of our story, the young people about us--asyoung as you and I are now, Kate--may come to us for sympathy, and pourdistresses which hope and inexperience could scarcely feel enough for,into the compassionate ears of the old bachelor brother and his maidensister.'

Kate smiled through her tears as Nicholas drew this picture; but theywere not tears of sorrow, although they continued to fall when he hadceased to speak.

'Am I not right, Kate?' he said, after a short silence.

'Quite, quite, dear brother; and I cannot tell you how happy I am that Ihave acted as you would have had me.'

'You don't regret?'

'N--n--no,' said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern upon the ground withher little foot. 'I don't regret having done what was honourableand right, of course; but I do regret that this should have everhappened--at least sometimes I regret it, and sometimes I--I don't knowwhat I say; I am but a weak girl, Nicholas, and it has agitated me verymuch.'

It is no vaunt to affirm that if Nicholas had had ten thousand poundsat the minute, he would, in his generous affection for the owner of theblushing cheek and downcast eye, have bestowed its utmost farthing, inperfect forgetfulness of himself, to secure her happiness. But all hecould do was to comfort and console her by kind words; and words theywere of such love and kindness, and cheerful encouragement, that poorKate threw her arms about his neck, and declared she would weep no more.

'What man,' thought Nicholas proudly, while on his way, soon afterwards,to the brothers' house, 'would not be sufficiently rewarded for anysacrifice of fortune by the possession of such a heart as Kate's, which,but that hearts weigh light, and gold and silver heavy, is beyond allpraise? Frank has money, and wants no more. Where would it buy him sucha treasure as Kate? And yet, in unequal marriages, the rich party isalways supposed to make a great sacrifice, and the other to get a goodbargain! But I am thinking like a lover, or like an ass: which I supposeis pretty nearly the same.'

Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on which he wasbound, by such self-reproofs as this and many others no less sturdy, heproceeded on his way and presented himself before Tim Linkinwater.

'Ah! Mr Nickleby!' cried Tim, 'God bless you! how d'ye do? Well? Sayyou're quite well and never better. Do now.'

'Quite,' said Nicholas, shaking him by both hands.

'Ah!' said Tim, 'you look tired though, now I come to look at you. Hark!there he is, d'ye hear him? That was Dick, the blackbird. He hasn't beenhimself since you've been gone. He'd never get on without you, now; hetakes as naturally to you as he does to me.'

'Dick is a far less sagacious fellow than I supposed him, if he thinks Iam half so well worthy of his notice as you,' replied Nicholas.

'Why, I'll tell you what, sir,' said Tim, standing in his favouriteattitude and pointing to the cage with the feather of his pen, 'it's avery extraordinary thing about that bird, that the only people he evertakes the smallest notice of, are Mr Charles, and Mr Ned, and you, andme.'

Here, Tim stopped and glanced anxiously at Nicholas; then unexpectedlycatching his eye repeated, 'And you and me, sir, and you and me.' Andthen he glanced at Nicholas again, and, squeezing his hand, said, 'I ama bad one at putting off anything I am interested in. I didn't mean toask you, but I should like to hear a few particulars about that poorboy. Did he mention Cheeryble Brothers at all?'

'Yes,' said Nicholas, 'many and many a time.'

'That was right of him,' returned Tim, wiping his eyes; 'that was veryright of him.'

'And he mentioned your name a score of times,' said Nicholas, 'and oftenbade me carry back his love to Mr Linkinwater.'

'No, no, did he though?' rejoined Tim, sobbing outright. 'Poor fellow!I wish we could have had him buried in town. There isn't such aburying-ground in all London as that little one on the other side of thesquare--there are counting-houses all round it, and if you go in there,on a fine day, you can see the books and safes through the open windows.And he sent his love to me, did he? I didn't expect he would havethought of me. Poor fellow, poor fellow! His love too!'

Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of recollection, thathe was quite unequal to any more conversation at the moment. Nicholastherefore slipped quietly out, and went to brother Charles's room.

If he had previously sustained his firmness and fortitude, it had beenby an effort which had cost him no little pain; but the warm welcome,the hearty manner, the homely unaffected commiseration, of the good oldman, went to his heart, and no inward struggle could prevent his showingit.

'Come, come, my dear sir,' said the benevolent merchant; 'we must notbe cast down; no, no. We must learn to bear misfortune, and we mustremember that there are many sources of consolation even in death.Every day that this poor lad had lived, he must have been less andless qualified for the world, and more and more unhappy in is owndeficiencies. It is better as it is, my dear sir. Yes, yes, yes, it'sbetter as it is.'

'I have thought of all that, sir,' replied Nicholas, clearing histhroat. 'I feel it, I assure you.'

'Yes, that's well,' replied Mr Cheeryble, who, in the midst of all hiscomforting, was quite as much taken aback as honest old Tim; 'that'swell. Where is my brother Ned? Tim Linkinwater, sir, where is my brotherNed?'

'Gone out with Mr Trimmers, about getting that unfortunate man into thehospital, and sending a nurse to his children,' said Tim.

'My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow!' exclaimed brotherCharles as he shut the door and returned to Nicholas. 'He will beoverjoyed to see you, my dear sir. We have been speaking of you everyday.'

'To tell you the truth, sir, I am glad to find you alone,' saidNicholas, with some natural hesitation; 'for I am anxious to saysomething to you. Can you spare me a very few minutes?'

'Surely, surely,' returned brother Charles, looking at him with ananxious countenance. 'Say on, my dear sir, say on.'

'I scarcely know how, or where, to begin,' said Nicholas. 'If ever onemortal had reason to be penetrated with love and reverence for another:with such attachment as would make the hardest service in his behalf apleasure and delight: with such grateful recollections as must rouse theutmost zeal and fidelity of his nature: those are the feelings which Ishould entertain for you, and do, from my heart and soul, believe me!'

'I do believe you,' replied the old gentleman, 'and I am happy inthe belief. I have never doubted it; I never shall. I am sure I nevershall.'

'Your telling me that so kindly,' said Nicholas, 'emboldens me toproceed. When you first took me into your confidence, and dispatched meon those missions to Miss Bray, I should have told you that I had seenher long before; that her beauty had made an impression upon me which Icould not efface; and that I had fruitlessly endeavoured to trace her,and become acquainted with her history. I did not tell you so, becauseI vainly thought I could conquer my weaker feelings, and render everyconsideration subservient to my duty to you.'

'Mr Nickleby,' said brother Charles, 'you did not violate the confidenceI placed in you, or take an unworthy advantage of it. I am sure you didnot.'

'I did not,' said Nicholas, firmly. 'Although I found that the necessityfor self-command and restraint became every day more imperious, and thedifficulty greater, I never, for one instant, spoke or looked but as Iwould have done had you been by. I never, for one moment, deserted mytrust, nor have I to this instant. But I find that constant associationand companionship with this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind, andmay prove destructive to the resolutions I made in the beginning, and upto this time have faithfully kept. In short, sir, I cannot trust myself,and I implore and beseech you to remove this young lady from under thecharge of my mother and sister without delay. I know that to anyone butmyself--to you, who consider the immeasurable distance between me andthis young lady, who is now your ward, and the object of your peculiarcare--my loving her, even in thought, must appear the height of rashnessand presumption. I know it is so. But who can see her as I have seen,who can know what her life has been, and not love her? I have no excusebut that; and as I cannot fly from this temptation, and cannot repressthis passion, with its object constantly before me, what can I do butpray and beseech you to remove it, and to leave me to forget her?'

'Mr Nickleby,' said the old man, after a short silence, 'you can do nomore. I was wrong to expose a young man like you to this trial. I mighthave foreseen what would happen. Thank you, sir, thank you. Madelineshall be removed.'

'If you would grant me one favour, dear sir, and suffer her to rememberme with esteem, by never revealing to her this confession--'

'I will take care,' said Mr Cheeryble. 'And now, is this all you have totell me?'

'No!' returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, 'it is not.'

'I know the rest,' said Mr Cheeryble, apparently very much relieved bythis prompt reply. 'When did it come to your knowledge?'

'When I reached home this morning.'

'You felt it your duty immediately to come to me, and tell me what yoursister no doubt acquainted you with?'

'I did,' said Nicholas, 'though I could have wished to have spoken to MrFrank first.'

'Frank was with me last night,' replied the old gentleman. 'You havedone well, Mr Nickleby--very well, sir--and I thank you again.'

Upon this head, Nicholas requested permission to add a few words. Heventured to hope that nothing he had said would lead to the estrangementof Kate and Madeline, who had formed an attachment for each other, anyinterruption of which would, he knew, be attended with great pain tothem, and, most of all, with remorse and pain to him, as its unhappycause. When these things were all forgotten, he hoped that Frank and hemight still be warm friends, and that no word or thought of his humblehome, or of her who was well contented to remain there and share hisquiet fortunes, would ever again disturb the harmony between them. Herecounted, as nearly as he could, what had passed between himselfand Kate that morning: speaking of her with such warmth of pride andaffection, and dwelling so cheerfully upon the confidence they had ofovercoming any selfish regrets and living contented and happy in eachother's love, that few could have heard him unmoved. More movedhimself than he had been yet, he expressed in a few hurried words--asexpressive, perhaps, as the most eloquent phrases--his devotion to thebrothers, and his hope that he might live and die in their service.

To all this, brother Charles listened in profound silence, and with hischair so turned from Nicholas that his face could not be seen. Hehad not spoken either, in his accustomed manner, but with a certainstiffness and embarrassment very foreign to it. Nicholas feared he hadoffended him. He said, 'No, no, he had done quite right,' but that wasall.

'Frank is a heedless, foolish fellow,' he said, after Nicholas hadpaused for some time; 'a very heedless, foolish fellow. I will take carethat this is brought to a close without delay. Let us say no more uponthe subject; it's a very painful one to me. Come to me in half an hour;I have strange things to tell you, my dear sir, and your uncle hasappointed this afternoon for your waiting upon him with me.'

'Waiting upon him! With you, sir!' cried Nicholas.

'Ay, with me,' replied the old gentleman. 'Return to me in half an hour,and I'll tell you more.'

Nicholas waited upon him at the time mentioned, and then learnt allthat had taken place on the previous day, and all that was known of theappointment Ralph had made with the brothers; which was for that night;and for the better understanding of which it will be requisite toreturn and follow his own footsteps from the house of the twin brothers.Therefore, we leave Nicholas somewhat reassured by the restored kindnessof their manner towards him, and yet sensible that it was different fromwhat it had been (though he scarcely knew in what respect): so he wasfull of uneasiness, uncertainty, and disquiet.