`Oh, no, he shall not,' rejoined Frank. `You see I have him secure here.
But may I ask you what this means, and whether you expected, this old gentleman?'
`Oh, no,' said Kate, `of course not; but he--mamma does not think so, I believe--but he is a mad gentleman who has escaped from the next house, and must have found an opportunity of secreting himself here.'
`Kate,' interposed Mrs Nickleby with severe dignity, `I am surprised at you.'
`Dear mamma--' Kate gently remonstrated.
`I am surprised at you,' repeated Mrs Nickleby; `upon my word, Kate, I am quite astonished that you should join the persecutors of this unfortunate gentleman, when you know very well that they have the basest designs upon his property, and that that is the whole secret of it. It would be much kinder of you, Kate, to ask Mr Linkinwater or Mr Cheeryble to interfere in his behalf, and see him righted. You ought not to allow your feelings to influence you; it's not right--very far from it. What should my feelings be, do you suppose? If anybody ought to be indignant, who is it? I, of course, and very properly so. Still, at the same time, I wouldn't commit such an injustice for the world. No,' continued Mrs Nickleby, drawing herself up, and looking another way with a kind of bashful stateliness; `this gentleman will understand me when I tell him that I repeat the answer I gave him the other day,--that I always will repeat it, though I do believe him to be sincere when I find him placing himself in such dreadful situations on my account--and that I request him to have the goodness to go away directly, or it will be impossible to keep his behaviour a secret from my son Nicholas.
I am obliged to him, very much obliged to him, but I cannot listen to his addresses for a moment. It's quite impossible.'
While this address was in course of delivery, the old gentleman, with his nose and cheeks embellished with large patches of soot, sat upon the ground with his arms folded, eyeing the spectators in profound silence, and with a very majestic demeanour. He did not appear to take the smallest notice of what Mrs Nickleby said, but when she ceased to speak he honoured her with a long stare, and inquired if she had quite finished.
`I have nothing more to say,' replied that lady modestly. `I really cannot say anything more.'
`Very good,' said the old gentleman, raising his voice, `then bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a corkscrew.'
Nobody executing this order, the old gentleman, after a short pause, raised his voice again and demanded a thunder sandwich. This article not being forthcoming either, he requested to be served with a fricassee of boot-tops and gold-fish sauce, and then laughing heartily, gratified his hearers with a very long, very loud, and most melodious bellow.
But still Mrs Nickleby, in reply to the significant looks of all about her, shook her head as though to assure them that she saw nothing whatever in all this, unless, indeed, it were a slight degree of eccentricity. She might have remained impressed with these opinions down to the latest moment of her life, but for a slight train of circumstances, which, trivial as they were, altered the whole complexion of the case.
It happened that Miss La Creevy, finding her patient in no very threatening condition, and being strongly impelled by curiosity to see what was going forward, bustled into the room while the old gentleman was in the very act of bellowing. It happened, too, that the instant the old gentleman saw her, he stopped short, skipped suddenly on his feet, and fell to kissing his hand violently: a change of demeanour which almost terrified the little portrait painter out of her senses, and caused her to retreat behind Tim Linkinwater with the utmost expedition.
`Aha!' cried the old gentleman, folding his hands, and squeezing them with great force against each other. `I see her now; I see her now! My love, my life, my bride, my peerless beauty. She is come at last--at last--and all is gas and gaiters!'
Mrs Nickleby looked rather disconcerted for a moment, but immediately recovering, nodded to Miss La Creevy and the other spectators several times, and frowned, and smiled gravely, giving them to understand that she saw where the mistake was, and would set it all to rights in a minute or two.
`She is come!' said the old gentleman, laying his hand upon his heart.
`Cormoran and Blunderbore! She is come! All the wealth I have is hers if she will take me for her slave. Where are grace, beauty, and blandishments, like those? In the Empress of Madagascar? No. In the Queen of Diamonds?
No. In Mrs Rowland, who every morning bathes in Kalydor for nothing? No.
Melt all these down into one, with the three Graces, the nine Muses, and fourteen biscuit-bakers' daughters from Oxford Street, and make a woman half as lovely. Pho! I defy you.'
After uttering this rhapsody, the old gentleman snapped his fingers twenty or thirty times, and then subsided into an ecstatic contemplation of Miss La Creevy's charms. This affording Mrs Nickleby a favourable opportunity of explanation, she went about it straight.
