But Julia looked down most perseveringly, and screamed still louder; so Mr. Wititterly rang the bell, and danced in a frenzied manner round the sofa on which Mrs. Wititterly lay; uttering perpetual cries for Sir Tumley Snuffim, and never once leaving off to ask for any explanation of the scene before him.
“Run for Sir Tumley,” cried Mr. Wititterly, menacing the page with both fists. “I knew it, Miss Nickleby,” he said, looking round with an air of melancholy triumph, “that society has been too much for her. This is all soul, you know, every bit of it.” With this assurance Mr. Wititterly took up the prostrate form of Mrs. Wititterly, and carried her bodily off to bed.
Kate waited until Sir Tumley Snuffim had paid his visit and looked in with a report, that, through the special interposition of a merciful Providence (thus spake Sir Tumley), Mrs. Wititterly had gone to sleep. She then hastily attired herself for walking, and leaving word that she should return within a couple of hours, hurried away towards her uncle’s house.
It had been a good day with Ralph Nickleby—quite a lucky day; and as he walked to and fro in his little backroom with his hands clasped behind him, adding up in his own mind all the sums that had been, or would be, netted from the business done since morning, his mouth was drawn into a hard stern smile; while the firmness of the lines and curves that made it up, as well as the cunning glance of his cold, bright eye, seemed to tell, that if any resolution or cunning would increase the profits, they would not fail to be excited for the purpose.
“Very good!” said Ralph, in allusion, no doubt, to some proceeding of the day. “He defies the usurer, does he? Well, we shall see. ‘Honesty is the best policy,’ is it? We’ll try that too.”
He stopped, and then walked on again.
“He is content,” said Ralph, relaxing into a smile, “to set his known character and conduct against the power of money—dross, as he calls it. Why, what a dull blockhead this fellow must be! Dross to, dross! Who’s that?”
“Me,” said Newman Noggs, looking in. “Your niece.”
“What of her?” asked Ralph sharply.
“She’s here.”
“Here!”
Newman jerked his head towards his little room, to signify that she was waiting there.
“What does she want?” asked Ralph.
“I don’t know,” rejoined Newman. “Shall I ask?” he added quickly.
“No,” replied Ralph. “Show her in! Stay.” He hastily put away a padlocked cashbox that was on the table, and substituted in its stead an empty purse. “There,” said Ralph. “Now she may come in.”
Newman, with a grim smile at this manoeuvre, beckoned the young lady to advance, and having placed a chair for her, retired; looking stealthily over his shoulder at Ralph as he limped slowly out.
“Well,” said Ralph, roughly enough; but still with something more of kindness in his manner than he would have exhibited towards anybody else. “Well, my—dear. What now?”
Kate raised her eyes, which were filled with tears; and with an effort to master her emotion strove to speak, but in vain. So drooping her head again, she remained silent. Her face was hidden from his view, but Ralph could see that she was weeping.
“I can guess the cause of this!” thought Ralph, after looking at her for some time in silence. “I can—I can—guess the cause. Well! Well!” thought Ralph—for the moment quite disconcerted, as he watched the anguish of his beautiful niece. “Where is the harm? only a few tears; and it’s an excellent lesson for her, an excellent lesson.”
“What is the matter?” asked Ralph, drawing a chair opposite, and sitting down.
He was rather taken aback by the sudden firmness with which Kate looked up and answered him.
“The matter which brings me to you, sir,” she said, “is one which should call the blood up into your cheeks, and make you burn to hear, as it does me to tell. I have been wronged; my feelings have been outraged, insulted, wounded past all healing, and by your friends.”
“Friends!” cried Ralph, sternly. “I have no friends, girl.”
“By the men I saw here, then,” returned Kate, quickly. “If they were no friends of yours, and you knew what they were—oh, the more shame on you, uncle, for bringing me among them. To have subjected me to what I was exposed to here, through any misplaced confidence or imperfect knowledge of your guests, would have required some strong excuse; but if you did it—as I now believe you did—knowing them well, it was most dastardly and cruel.”
Ralph drew back in utter amazement at this plain speaking, and regarded Kate with the sternest look. But she met his gaze proudly and firmly, and although her face was very pale, it looked more noble and handsome, lighted up as it was, than it had ever appeared before.
“There is some of that boy’s blood in you, I see,” said Ralph, speaking in his harshest tones, as something in the flashing eye reminded him of Nicholas at their last meeting.
“I hope there is!” replied Kate. “I should be proud to know it. I am young, uncle, and all the difficulties and miseries of my situation have kept it down, but I have been roused today beyond all endurance, and come what may, I will not, as I am your brother’s child, bear these insults longer.”
“What insults, girl?” demanded Ralph, sharply.
“Remember what took place here, and ask yourself,” replied Kate, colouring deeply. “Uncle, you must—I am sure you will—release me from such vile and degrading companionship as I am exposed to now. I do not mean,” said Kate, hurrying to the old man, and laying her arm upon his shoulder; “I do not mean to be angry and violent—I beg your pardon if I have seemed so, dear uncle—but you do not know what I have suffered, you do not indeed. You cannot tell what the heart of a young girl is—I have no right to
