“For you, brother-in-law,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, “and I walked all the way up here on purpose to give it you.”
“All the way up here!” cried Sir Mulberry, seizing upon the chance of discovering where Mrs. Nickleby had come from. “What a confounded distance! How far do you call it now?”
“How far do I call it?” said Mrs. Nickleby. “Let me see. It’s just a mile from our door to the Old Bailey.”
“No, no. Not so much as that,” urged Sir Mulberry.
“Oh! It is indeed,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “I appeal to his lordship.”
“I should decidedly say it was a mile,” remarked Lord Frederick, with a solemn aspect.
“It must be; it can’t be a yard less,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “All down Newgate Street, all down Cheapside, all up Lombard Street, down Gracechurch Street, and along Thames Street, as far as Spigwiffin’s Wharf. Oh! It’s a mile.”
“Yes, on second thoughts I should say it was,” replied Sir Mulberry. “But you don’t surely mean to walk all the way back?”
“Oh, no,” rejoined Mrs. Nickleby. “I shall go back in an omnibus. I didn’t travel about in omnibuses, when my poor dear Nicholas was alive, brother-in-law. But as it is, you know—”
“Yes, yes,” replied Ralph impatiently, “and you had better get back before dark.”
“Thank you, brother-in-law, so I had,” returned Mrs. Nickleby. “I think I had better say goodbye, at once.”
“Not stop and—rest?” said Ralph, who seldom offered refreshments unless something was to be got by it.
“Oh dear me no,” returned Mrs. Nickleby, glancing at the dial.
“Lord Frederick,” said Sir Mulberry, “we are going Mrs. Nickleby’s way. We’ll see her safe to the omnibus?”
“By all means. Ye-es.”
“Oh! I really couldn’t think of it!” said Mrs. Nickleby.
But Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Verisopht were peremptory in their politeness, and leaving Ralph, who seemed to think, not unwisely, that he looked less ridiculous as a mere spectator, than he would have done if he had taken any part in these proceedings, they quitted the house with Mrs. Nickleby between them; that good lady in a perfect ecstasy of satisfaction, no less with the attentions shown her by two titled gentlemen, than with the conviction that Kate might now pick and choose, at least between two large fortunes, and most unexceptionable husbands.
As she was carried away for the moment by an irresistible train of thought, all connected with her daughter’s future greatness, Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend exchanged glances over the top of the bonnet which the poor lady so much regretted not having left at home, and proceeded to dilate with great rapture, but much respect on the manifold perfections of Miss Nickleby.
“What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this amiable creature must be to you,” said Sir Mulberry, throwing into his voice an indication of the warmest feeling.
“She is indeed, sir,” replied Mrs. Nickleby; “she is the sweetest-tempered, kindest-hearted creature—and so clever!”
“She looks clayver,” said Lord Verisopht, with the air of a judge of cleverness.
“I assure you she is, my lord,” returned Mrs. Nickleby. “When she was at school in Devonshire, she was universally allowed to be beyond all exception the very cleverest girl there, and there were a great many very clever ones too, and that’s the truth—twenty-five young ladies, fifty guineas a year without the et-ceteras, both the Miss Dowdles the most accomplished, elegant, fascinating creatures—Oh dear me!” said Mrs. Nickleby, “I never shall forget what pleasure she used to give me and her poor dear papa, when she was at that school, never—such a delightful letter every half-year, telling us that she was the first pupil in the whole establishment, and had made more progress than anybody else! I can scarcely bear to think of it even now. The girls wrote all the letters themselves,” added Mrs. Nickleby, “and the writing-master touched them up afterwards with a magnifying glass and a silver pen; at least I think they wrote them, though Kate was never quite certain about that, because she didn’t know the handwriting of hers again; but anyway, I know it was a circular which they all copied, and of course it was a very gratifying thing—very gratifying.”
With similar recollections Mrs. Nickleby beguiled the tediousness of the way, until they reached the omnibus, which the extreme politeness of her new friends would not allow them to leave until it actually started, when they took their hats, as Mrs. Nickleby solemnly assured her hearers on many subsequent occasions, “completely off,” and kissed their straw-coloured kid gloves till they were no longer visible.
Mrs. Nickleby leant back in the furthest corner of the conveyance, and, closing her eyes, resigned herself to a host of most pleasing meditations. Kate had never said a word about having met either of these gentlemen; “that,” she thought, “argues that she is strongly prepossessed in favour of one of them.” Then the question arose, which one could it be. The lord was the youngest, and his title was certainly the grandest; still Kate was not the girl to be swayed by such considerations as these. “I will never put any constraint upon her inclinations,” said Mrs. Nickleby to herself; “but upon my word I think there’s no comparison between his lordship and Sir Mulberry—Sir Mulberry is such an attentive gentlemanly creature, so much manner, such a fine man, and has so much to say for himself. I hope it’s Sir Mulberry—I think it must be Sir Mulberry!” And then her thoughts flew back to her old predictions, and the number of times she had said, that Kate with no fortune would marry better than other people’s daughters with thousands; and, as she pictured with the brightness of a mother’s fancy all the beauty and grace of the poor girl who had struggled so cheerfully with her new life of hardship and trial, her heart grew too full, and the tears trickled down her face.
Meanwhile, Ralph walked to and fro in his little back-office, troubled in mind
