The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had just occurred, than at the excitement and impetuosity of him who spoke. Nicholas, taking the insensible girl in his arms, bore her from the chamber and downstairs into the room he had just quitted, followed by his sister and the faithful servant, whom he charged to procure a coach directly, while he and Kate bent over their beautiful charge and endeavoured, but in vain, to restore her to animation. The girl performed her office with such expedition, that in a very few minutes the coach was ready.
Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralysed by the awful event which had so suddenly overthrown their schemes (it would not otherwise, perhaps, have made much impression on them), and carried away by the extraordinary energy and precipitation of Nicholas, which bore down all before him, looked on at these proceedings like men in a dream or trance. It was not until every preparation was made for Madeline’s immediate removal that Ralph broke silence by declaring she should not be taken away.
“Who says so?” cried Nicholas, rising from his knee and confronting them, but still retaining Madeline’s lifeless hand in his.
“I!” answered Ralph, hoarsely.
“Hush, hush!” cried the terrified Gride, catching him by the arm again. “Hear what he says.”
“Ay!” said Nicholas, extending his disengaged hand in the air, “hear what he says. That both your debts are paid in the one great debt of nature. That the bond, due today at twelve, is now waste paper. That your contemplated fraud shall be discovered yet. That your schemes are known to man, and overthrown by Heaven. Wretches, that he defies you both to do your worst.”
“This man,” said Ralph, in a voice scarcely intelligible, “this man claims his wife, and he shall have her.”
“That man claims what is not his, and he should not have her if he were fifty men, with fifty more to back him,” said Nicholas.
“Who shall prevent him?”
“I will.”
“By what right I should like to know,” said Ralph. “By what right I ask?”
“By this right. That, knowing what I do, you dare not tempt me further,” said Nicholas, “and by this better right; that those I serve, and with whom you would have done me base wrong and injury, are her nearest and her dearest friends. In their name I bear her hence. Give way!”
“One word!” cried Ralph, foaming at the mouth.
“Not one,” replied Nicholas, “I will not hear of one—save this. Look to yourself, and heed this warning that I give you! Your day is past, and night is coming on.”
“My curse, my bitter, deadly curse, upon you, boy!”
“Whence will curses come at your command? Or what avails a curse or blessing from a man like you? I tell you, that misfortune and discovery are thickening about your head; that the structures you have raised, through all your ill-spent life, are crumbling into dust; that your path is beset with spies; that this very day, ten thousand pounds of your hoarded wealth have gone in one great crash!”
“ ’Tis false!” cried Ralph, shrinking back.
“ ’Tis true, and you shall find it so. I have no more words to waste. Stand from the door. Kate, do you go first. Lay not a hand on her, or on that woman, or on me, or so much a brush their garments as they pass you by!—You let them pass, and he blocks the door again!”
Arthur Gride happened to be in the doorway, but whether intentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent. Nicholas swung him away, with such violence as to cause him to spin round the room until he was caught by a sharp angle of the wall, and there knocked down; and then taking his beautiful burden in his arms rushed out. No one cared to stop him, if any were so disposed. Making his way through a mob of people, whom a report of the circumstances had attracted round the house, and carrying Madeline, in his excitement, as easily as if she were an infant, he reached the coach in which Kate and the girl were already waiting, and, confiding his charge to them, jumped up beside the coachman and bade him drive away.
LV
Of family matters, cares, hopes, disappointments, and sorrows.
Although Mrs. Nickleby had been made acquainted by her son and daughter with every circumstance of Madeline Bray’s history which was known to them; although the responsible situation in which Nicholas stood had been carefully explained to her, and she had been prepared, even for the possible contingency of having to receive the young lady in her own house, improbable as such a result had appeared only a few minutes before it came about, still, Mrs. Nickleby, from the moment when this confidence was first reposed in her, late on the previous evening, had remained in an unsatisfactory and profoundly mystified state, from which no explanations or arguments could relieve her, and which every fresh soliloquy and reflection only aggravated more and more.
“Bless my heart, Kate!” so the good lady argued; “if the Mr. Cheerybles don’t want this young lady to be married, why don’t they file a bill against the Lord Chancellor, make her a Chancery ward, and shut her up in the Fleet prison for safety?—I have read of such things in the newspapers a hundred times. Or, if they are so very fond of her as Nicholas says they are, why don’t they marry her themselves—one of them I mean? And even supposing they don’t want her to be married, and don’t want to marry her themselves, why in the name of wonder should Nicholas go about the world, forbidding people’s
