Nicholas bore his triumph, as he had his success in the little world of the theatre, with the utmost moderation and good humour. The crestfallen Mr. Lenville made an expiring effort to obtain revenge by sending a boy into the gallery to hiss, but he fell a sacrifice to popular indignation, and was promptly turned out without having his money back.
“Well, Smike,” said Nicholas when the first piece was over, and he had almost finished dressing to go home, “is there any letter yet?”
“Yes,” replied Smike, “I got this one from the post-office.”
“From Newman Noggs,” said Nicholas, casting his eye upon the cramped direction; “it’s no easy matter to make his writing out. Let me see—let me see.”
By dint of poring over the letter for half an hour, he contrived to make himself master of the contents, which were certainly not of a nature to set his mind at ease. Newman took upon himself to send back the ten pounds, observing that he had ascertained that neither Mrs. Nickleby nor Kate was in actual want of money at the moment, and that a time might shortly come when Nicholas might want it more. He entreated him not to be alarmed at what he was about to say;—there was no bad news—they were in good health—but he thought circumstances might occur, or were occurring, which would render it absolutely necessary that Kate should have her brother’s protection, and if so, Newman said, he would write to him to that effect, either by the next post or the next but one.
Nicholas read this passage very often, and the more he thought of it the more he began to fear some treachery upon the part of Ralph. Once or twice he felt tempted to repair to London at all hazards without an hour’s delay, but a little reflection assured him that if such a step were necessary, Newman would have spoken out and told him so at once.
“At all events I should prepare them here for the possibility of my going away suddenly,” said Nicholas; “I should lose no time in doing that.” As the thought occurred to him, he took up his hat and hurried to the greenroom.
“Well, Mr. Johnson,” said Mrs. Crummles, who was seated there in full regal costume, with the phenomenon as the Maiden in her maternal arms, “next week for Ryde, then for Winchester, then for—”
“I have some reason to fear,” interrupted Nicholas, “that before you leave here my career with you will have closed.”
“Closed!” cried Mrs. Crummles, raising her hands in astonishment.
“Closed!” cried Miss Snevellicci, trembling so much in her tights that she actually laid her hand upon the shoulder of the manageress for support.
“Why he don’t mean to say he’s going!” exclaimed Mrs. Grudden, making her way towards Mrs. Crummles. “Hoity toity! Nonsense.”
The phenomenon, being of an affectionate nature and moreover excitable, raised a loud cry, and Miss Belvawney and Miss Bravassa actually shed tears. Even the male performers stopped in their conversation, and echoed the word “Going!” although some among them (and they had been the loudest in their congratulations that day) winked at each other as though they would not be sorry to lose such a favoured rival; an opinion, indeed, which the honest Mr. Folair, who was ready dressed for the savage, openly stated in so many words to a demon with whom he was sharing a pot of porter.
Nicholas briefly said that he feared it would be so, although he could not yet speak with any degree of certainty; and getting away as soon as he could, went home to con Newman’s letter once more, and speculate upon it afresh.
How trifling all that had been occupying his time and thoughts for many weeks seemed to him during that sleepless night, and how constantly and incessantly present to his imagination was the one idea that Kate in the midst of some great trouble and distress might even then be looking—and vainly too—for him!
XXX
Festivities are held in honour of Nicholas, who suddenly withdraws himself from the aociety of Mr. Vincent Crummles and his theatrical companions.
Mr. Vincent Crummles was no sooner acquainted with the public announcement which Nicholas had made relative to the probability of his shortly ceasing to be a member of the company, than he evinced many tokens of grief and consternation; and, in the extremity of his despair, even held out certain vague promises of a speedy improvement not only in the amount of his regular salary, but also in the contingent emoluments appertaining to his authorship. Finding Nicholas bent upon quitting the society—for he had now determined that, even if no further tidings came from Newman, he would, at all hazards, ease his mind by repairing to London and ascertaining the exact position of his sister—Mr. Crummles was fain to content himself by calculating the chances of his coming back again, and taking prompt and energetic measures to make the most of him before he went away.
“Let me see,” said Mr. Crummles, taking off his outlaw’s wig, the better to arrive at a cool-headed view of the whole case. “Let me see. This is Wednesday night. We’ll have posters out the first thing in the morning, announcing positively your last appearance for tomorrow.”
“But perhaps it may not be my last appearance, you know,” said Nicholas. “Unless I am summoned away, I should be sorry to inconvenience you by leaving before the end of the week.”
“So much the better,” returned Mr. Crummles. “We can have positively your last appearance, on Thursday—re-engagement for one night more, on Friday—and, yielding to the wishes of
