“You had best not seek to detain me, sir!” said Kate, angrily.
“And why not?” retorted Sir Mulberry. “My dear creature, now why do you keep up this show of displeasure?”
“Show!” repeated Kate, indignantly. “How dare you presume to speak to me, sir—to address me—to come into my presence?”
“You look prettier in a passion, Miss Nickleby,” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, stooping down, the better to see her face.
“I hold you in the bitterest detestation and contempt, sir,” said Kate. “If you find any attraction in looks of disgust and aversion, you—let me rejoin my friends, sir, instantly. Whatever considerations may have withheld me thus far, I will disregard them all, and take a course that even you might feel, if you do not immediately suffer me to proceed.”
Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and retaining her arm, walked towards the door.
“If no regard for my sex or helpless situation will induce you to desist from this coarse and unmanly persecution,” said Kate, scarcely knowing, in the tumult of her passions, what she said—“I have a brother who will resent it dearly, one day.”
“Upon my soul!” exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though quietly communing with himself; passing his arm round her waist as he spoke, “she looks more beautiful, and I like her better in this mood, than when her eyes are cast down, and she is in perfect repose!”
How Kate reached the lobby where her friends were waiting she never knew, but she hurried across it without at all regarding them, and disengaged herself suddenly from her companion, sprang into the coach, and throwing herself into its darkest corner burst into tears.
Messrs Pyke and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw the party into great commotion by shouting for the carriages, and getting up a violent quarrel with sundry inoffensive bystanders; in the midst of which tumult they put the affrighted Mrs. Nickleby in her chariot, and having got her safely off, turned their thoughts to Mrs. Wititterly, whose attention also they had now effectually distracted from the young lady, by throwing her into a state of the utmost bewilderment and consternation. At length, the conveyance in which she had come rolled off too with its load, and the four worthies, being left alone under the portico, enjoyed a hearty laugh together.
“There,” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his noble friend. “Didn’t I tell you last night that if we could find where they were going by bribing a servant through my fellow, and then established ourselves close by with the mother, these people’s honour would be our own? Why here it is, done in four-and-twenty hours.”
“Ye—es,” replied the dupe. “But I have been tied to the old woman all ni-ight.”
“Hear him,” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his two friends. “Hear this discontented grumbler. Isn’t it enough to make a man swear never to help him in his plots and schemes again? Isn’t it an infernal shame?”
Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame, and Pluck asked Pyke; but neither answered.
“Isn’t it the truth?” demanded Verisopht. “Wasn’t it so?”
“Wasn’t it so!” repeated Sir Mulberry. “How would you have had it? How could we have got a general invitation at first sight—come when you like, go when you like, stop as long as you like, do what you like—if you, the lord, had not made yourself agreeable to the foolish mistress of the house? Do I care for this girl, except as your friend? Haven’t I been sounding your praises in her ears, and bearing her pretty sulks and peevishness all night for you? What sort of stuff do you think I’m made of? Would I do this for every man? Don’t I deserve even gratitude in return?”
“You’re a deyvlish good fellow,” said the poor young lord, taking his friend’s arm. “Upon my life you’re a deyvlish good fellow, Hawk.”
“And I have done right, have I?” demanded Sir Mulberry.
“Quite ri-ght.”
“And like a poor, silly, good-natured, friendly dog as I am, eh?”
“Ye—es, ye—es; like a friend,” replied the other.
“Well then,” replied Sir Mulberry, “I’m satisfied. And now let’s go and have our revenge on the German baron and the Frenchman, who cleaned you out so handsomely last night.”
With these words the friendly creature took his companion’s arm and led him away, turning half round as he did so, and bestowing a wink and a contemptuous smile on Messrs Pyke and Pluck, who, cramming their handkerchiefs into their mouths to denote their silent enjoyment of the whole proceedings, followed their patron and his victim at a little distance.
XXVIII
Miss Nickleby, rendered desperate by the persecution of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and the complicated difficulties and distresses which surround her, appeals, as a last resource, to her uncle for protection.
The ensuing morning brought reflection with it, as morning usually does; but widely different was the train of thought it awakened in the different persons who had been so unexpectedly brought together on the preceding evening, by the active agency of Messrs Pyke and Pluck.
The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk—if such a term can be applied to the thoughts of the systematic and calculating man of dissipation, whose joys, regrets, pains, and pleasures, are all of self, and who would seem to retain nothing of the intellectual faculty but the power to debase himself, and to degrade the very nature whose outward semblance he wears—the reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk turned upon Kate Nickleby, and were, in brief, that she was undoubtedly handsome; that her coyness must be easily conquerable by a man of his address and experience, and that the pursuit was one which could not fail to redound to his credit, and greatly to enhance his reputation with the world. And lest this last consideration—no mean or secondary one with Sir Mulberry—should sound strangely in the ears of some, let it be remembered that most men live in a world of their own, and that in that limited circle alone are they ambitious for distinction
