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    Chapter 52

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    Chapter 52
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    CHAPTER 52

    Nicholas despairs of rescuing Madeline Bray, but plucks up his
    Spirits again, and determines to attempt it. Domestic Intelligence
    of the Kenwigses and Lillyvicks

    Finding that Newman was determined to arrest his progress at any
    hazard, and apprehensive that some well-intentioned passenger,
    attracted by the cry of 'Stop thief,' might lay violent hands upon
    his person, and place him in a disagreeable predicament from which
    he might have some difficulty in extricating himself, Nicholas soon
    slackened his pace, and suffered Newman Noggs to come up with him:
    which he did, in so breathless a condition, that it seemed
    impossible he could have held out for a minute longer.

    'I will go straight to Bray's,' said Nicholas. 'I will see this
    man. If there is a feeling of humanity lingering in his breast, a
    spark of consideration for his own child, motherless and friendless
    as she is, I will awaken it.'

    'You will not,' replied Newman. 'You will not, indeed.'

    'Then,' said Nicholas, pressing onward, 'I will act upon my first
    impulse, and go straight to Ralph Nickleby.'

    'By the time you reach his house he will be in bed,' said Newman.

    'I'll drag him from it,' cried Nicholas.

    'Tut, tut,' said Noggs. 'Be yourself.'

    'You are the best of friends to me, Newman,' rejoined Nicholas after
    a pause, and taking his hand as he spoke. 'I have made head against
    many trials; but the misery of another, and such misery, is involved
    in this one, that I declare to you I am rendered desperate, and know
    not how to act.'

    In truth, it did seem a hopeless case. It was impossible to make
    any use of such intelligence as Newman Noggs had gleaned, when he
    lay concealed in the closet. The mere circumstance of the compact
    between Ralph Nickleby and Gride would not invalidate the marriage,
    or render Bray averse to it, who, if he did not actually know of the
    existence of some such understanding, doubtless suspected it. What
    had been hinted with reference to some fraud on Madeline, had been
    put, with sufficient obscurity by Arthur Gride, but coming from
    Newman Noggs, and obscured still further by the smoke of his
    pocket-pistol, it became wholly unintelligible, and involved in utter
    darkness.

    'There seems no ray of hope,' said Nicholas.

    'The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, for consideration,
    for thought,' said Newman, pausing at every alternate word, to look
    anxiously in his friend's face. 'Where are the brothers?'

    'Both absent on urgent business, as they will be for a week to
    come.'

    'Is there no way of communicating with them? No way of getting one
    of them here by tomorrow night?'

    'Impossible!' said Nicholas, 'the sea is between us and them. With
    the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and return would take three
    days and nights.'

    'Their nephew,' said Newman, 'their old clerk.'

    'What could either do, that I cannot?' rejoined Nicholas. 'With
    reference to them, especially, I am enjoined to the strictest
    silence on this subject. What right have I to betray the confidence
    reposed in me, when nothing but a miracle can prevent this sacrifice?'

    'Think,' urged Newman. 'Is there no way.'

    'There is none,' said Nicholas, in utter dejection. 'Not one. The
    father urges, the daughter consents. These demons have her in their
    toils; legal right, might, power, money, and every influence are on
    their side. How can I hope to save her?'

    'Hope to the last!' said Newman, clapping him on the back. 'Always
    hope; that's a dear boy. Never leave off hoping; it don't answer. Do
    you mind me, Nick? It don't answer. Don't leave a stone unturned.
    It's always something, to know you've done the most you could. But,
    don't leave off hoping, or it's of no use doing anything. Hope,
    hope, to the last!'

    Nicholas needed encouragement. The suddenness with which
    intelligence of the two usurers' plans had come upon him, the little
    time which remained for exertion, the probability, almost amounting
    to certainty itself, that a few hours would place Madeline Bray for
    ever beyond his reach, consign her to unspeakable misery, and
    perhaps to an untimely death; all this quite stunned and overwhelmed
    him. Every hope connected with her that he had suffered himself to
    form, or had entertained unconsciously, seemed to fall at his feet,
    withered and dead. Every charm with which his memory or imagination
    had surrounded her, presented itself before him, only to heighten
    his anguish and add new bitterness to his despair. Every feeling of
    sympathy for her forlorn condition, and of admiration for her
    heroism and fortitude, aggravated the indignation which shook him in
    every limb, and swelled his heart almost to bursting.

    But, if Nicholas's own heart embarrassed him, Newman's came to his
    relief. There was so much earnestness in his remonstrance, and such
    sincerity and fervour in his manner, odd and ludicrous as it always
    was, that it imparted to Nicholas new firmness, and enabled him to
    say, after he had walked on for some little way in silence:

    'You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit by it. One
    step, at least, I may take--am bound to take indeed--and to that I
    will apply myself tomorrow.'

    'What is that?' asked Noggs wistfully. 'Not to threaten Ralph? Not
    to see the father?'

    'To see the daughter, Newman,' replied Nicholas. 'To do what, after
    all, is the utmost that the brothers could do, if they were here, as
    Heaven send they were! To reason with her upon this hideous union,
    to point out to her all the horrors to which she is hastening;
    rashly, it may be, and without due reflection. To entreat her, at
    least, to pause. She can have had no counsellor for her good.
    Perhaps even I may move her so far yet, though it is the eleventh
    hour, and she upon the very brink of ruin.'

    'Bravely spoken!' said Newman. 'Well done, well done! Yes. Very
    good.'

    'And I do declare,' cried Nicholas, with honest enthusiasm, 'that in
    this effort I am influenced by no selfish or personal
    considerations, but by pity for her, and detestation and abhorrence
    of this scheme; and that I would do the same, were there twenty
    rivals in the field, and I the last and least favoured of them all.'

    'You would, I believe,' said Newman. 'But where are you hurrying
    now?'

    'Homewards,' answered Nicholas. 'Do you come with me, or I shall
    say good-night?'

    'I'll come a little way, if you will but walk: not run,' said Noggs.

    'I cannot walk tonight, Newman,' returned Nicholas, hurriedly. 'I
    must move rapidly, or I could not draw my breath. I'll tell you
    what I've said and done tomorrow.'

    Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace, and,
    plunging into the crowds which thronged the street, was quickly lost
    to view.

    'He's a violent youth at times,' said Newman, looking after him;
    'and yet like him for it. There's cause enough now, or the deuce is
    in it. Hope! I SAID hope, I think! Ralph Nickleby and Gride with
    their heads together! And hope for the opposite party! Ho! ho!'

    It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggs concluded this
    soliloquy; and it was with a very melancholy shake of the head, and
    a very rueful countenance, that he turned about, and went plodding
    on his way.

    This, under ordinary circumstances, would have been to some small
    tavern or dram-shop; that being his way, in more senses than one.
    But, Newman was too much interested, and too anxious, to betake
    himself even to this resource, and so, with many desponding and
    dismal reflections, went straight home.

    It had come to pass, that afternoon, that Miss Morleena Kenwigs had
    received an invitation to repair next day, per steamer from
    Westminster Bridge, unto the Eel-pie Island at Twickenham: there to
    make merry upon a cold collation, bottled beer, shrub, and shrimps,
    and to dance in the open air to the music of a locomotive band,
    conveyed thither for the purpose: the steamer being specially
    engaged by a dancing-master of extensive connection for the
    accommodation of his numerous pupils, and the pupils displaying
    their appreciation of the dancing-master's services, by purchasing
    themselves, and inducing their friends to do the like, divers light-
    blue tickets, entitling them to join the expedition. Of these light-
    blue tickets, one had been presented by an ambitious neighbour to
    Miss Morleena Kenwigs, with an invitation to join her daughters; and
    Mrs Kenwigs, rightly deeming that the honour of the family was
    involved in Miss Morleena's making the most splendid appearance
    possible on so short a notice, and testifying to the dancing-master
    that there were other dancing-masters besides him, and to all
    fathers and mothers present that other people's children could learn
    to be genteel besides theirs, had fainted away twice under the
    magnitude of her preparations, but, upheld by a determination to
    sustain the family name or perish in the attempt, was still hard at
    work when Newman Noggs came home.

    Now, between the italian-ironing of frills, the flouncing of
    trousers, the trimming of frocks, the faintings and the comings-to
    again, incidental to the occasion, Mrs Kenwigs had been so entirely
    occupied, that she had not observed, until within half an hour
    before, that the flaxen tails of Miss Morleena's hair were, in a
    manner, run to seed; and that, unless she were put under the hands
    of a skilful hairdresser, she never could achieve that signal
    triumph over the daughters of all other people, anything less than
    which would be tantamount to defeat. This discovery drove Mrs
    Kenwigs to despair; for the hairdresser lived three streets and
    eight dangerous crossings off; Morleena could not be trusted to go
    there alone, even if such a proceeding were strictly proper: of
    which Mrs Kenwigs had her doubts; Mr Kenwigs had not returned from
    business; and there was nobody to take her. So, Mrs Kenwigs first
    slapped Miss Kenwigs for being the cause of her vexation, and then
    shed tears.

    'You ungrateful child!' said Mrs Kenwigs, 'after I have gone through
    what I have, this night, for your good.'

    'I can't help it, ma,' replied Morleena, also in tears; 'my hair
    WILL grow.'

    'Don't talk to me, you naughty thing!' said Mrs Kenwigs, 'don't!
    Even if I was to trust you by yourself and you were to escape being
    run over, I know you'd run in to Laura Chopkins,' who was the
    daughter of the ambitious neighbour, 'and tell her what you're going
    to wear tomorrow, I know you would. You've no proper pride in
    yourself, and are not to be trusted out of sight for an instant.'

    Deploring the evil-mindedness of her eldest daughter in these terms,
    Mrs Kenwigs distilled fresh drops of vexation from her eyes, and
    declared that she did believe there never was anybody so tried as
    she was. Thereupon, Morleena Kenwigs wept afresh, and they bemoaned
    themselves together.

    Matters were at this point, as Newman Noggs was heard to limp past
    the door on his way upstairs; when Mrs Kenwigs, gaining new hope
    from the sound of his footsteps, hastily removed from her
    countenance as many traces of her late emotion as were effaceable on
    so short a notice: and presenting herself before him, and
    representing their dilemma, entreated that he would escort Morleena
    to the hairdresser's shop.

    'I wouldn't ask you, Mr Noggs,' said Mrs Kenwigs, 'if I didn't know
    what a good, kind-hearted creature you are; no, not for worlds. I
    am a weak constitution, Mr Noggs, but my spirit would no more let me
    ask a favour where I thought there was a chance of its being
    refused, than it would let me submit to see my children trampled
    down and trod upon, by envy and lowness!'

    Newman was too good-natured not to have consented, even without this
    avowal of confidence on the part of Mrs Kenwigs. Accordingly, a
    very few minutes had elapsed, when he and Miss Morleena were on
    their way to the hairdresser's.

    It was not exactly a hairdresser's; that is to say, people of a
    coarse and vulgar turn of mind might have called it a barber's; for
    they not only cut and curled ladies elegantly, and children
    carefully, but shaved gentlemen easily. Still, it was a highly
    genteel establishment--quite first-rate in fact--and there were
    displayed in the window, besides other elegancies, waxen busts of a
    light lady and a dark gentleman which were the admiration of the
    whole neighbourhood. Indeed, some ladies had gone so far as to
    assert, that the dark gentleman was actually a portrait of the
    spirted young proprietor; and the great similarity between their
    head-dresses--both wore very glossy hair, with a narrow walk
    straight down the middle, and a profusion of flat circular curls on
    both sides--encouraged the idea. The better informed among the sex,
    however, made light of this assertion, for however willing they were
    (and they were very willing) to do full justice to the handsome face
    and figure of the proprietor, they held the countenance of the dark
    gentleman in the window to be an exquisite and abstract idea of
    masculine beauty, realised sometimes, perhaps, among angels and
    military men, but very rarely embodied to gladden the eyes of
    mortals.

    It was to this establishment that Newman Noggs led Miss Kenwigs in
    safety. The proprietor, knowing that Miss Kenwigs had three
    sisters, each with two flaxen tails, and all good for sixpence
    apiece, once a month at least, promptly deserted an old gentleman
    whom he had just lathered for shaving, and handing him over to the
    journeyman, (who was not very popular among the ladies, by reason
    of his obesity and middle age,) waited on the young lady himself.

    Just as this change had been effected, there presented himself for
    shaving, a big, burly, good-humoured coal-heaver with a pipe in his
    mouth, who, drawing his hand across his chin, requested to know when
    a shaver would be disengaged.

    The journeyman, to whom this question was put, looked doubtfully at
    the young proprietor, and the young proprietor looked scornfully at
    the coal-heaver: observing at the same time:

    'You won't get shaved here, my man.'

    'Why not?' said the coal-heaver.

    'We don't shave gentlemen in your line,' remarked the young
    proprietor.

    'Why, I see you a shaving of a baker, when I was a looking through
    the winder, last week,' said the coal-heaver.

    'It's necessary to draw the line somewheres, my fine feller,'
    replied the principal. 'We draw the line there. We can't go beyond
    bakers. If we was to get any lower than bakers, our customers would
    desert us, and we might shut up shop. You must try some other
    establishment, sir. We couldn't do it here.'

    The applicant stared; grinned at Newman Noggs, who appeared highly
    entertained; looked slightly round the shop, as if in depreciation
    of the pomatum pots and other articles of stock; took his pipe out
    of his mouth and gave a very loud whistle; and then put it in again,
    and walked out.

    The old gentleman who had just been lathered, and who was sitting in
    a melancholy manner with his face turned towards the wall, appeared
    quite unconscious of this incident, and to be insensible to
    everything around him in the depth of a reverie--a very mournful
    one, to judge from the sighs he occasionally vented--in which he was
    absorbed. Affected by this example, the proprietor began to clip
    Miss Kenwigs, the journeyman to scrape the old gentleman, and Newman
    Noggs to read last Sunday's paper, all three in silence: when Miss
    Kenwigs uttered a shrill little scream, and Newman, raising his
    eyes, saw that it had been elicited by the circumstance of the old
    gentleman turning his head, and disclosing the features of Mr
    Lillyvick the collector.

    The features of Mr Lillyvick they were, but strangely altered. If
    ever an old gentleman had made a point of appearing in public,
    shaved close and clean, that old gentleman was Mr Lillyvick. If
    ever a collector had borne himself like a collector, and assumed,
    before all men, a solemn and portentous dignity as if he had the
    world on his books and it was all two quarters in arrear, that
    collector was Mr Lillyvick. And now, there he sat, with the remains
    of a beard at least a week old encumbering his chin; a soiled and
    crumpled shirt-frill crouching, as it were, upon his breast, instead
    of standing boldly out; a demeanour so abashed and drooping, so
    despondent, and expressive of such humiliation, grief, and shame;
    that if the souls of forty unsubstantial housekeepers, all of whom
    had had their water cut off for non-payment of the rate, could have
    been concentrated in one body, that one body could hardly have
    expressed such mortification and defeat as were now expressed in the
    person of Mr Lillyvick the collector.

    Newman Noggs uttered his name, and Mr Lillyvick groaned: then
    coughed to hide it. But the groan was a full-sized groan, and the
    cough was but a wheeze.

    'Is anything the matter?' said Newman Noggs.

    'Matter, sir!' cried Mr Lillyvick. 'The plug of life is dry, sir,
    and but the mud is left.'

    This speech--the style of which Newman attributed to Mr Lillyvick's
    recent association with theatrical characters--not being quite
    explanatory, Newman looked as if he were about to ask another
    question, when Mr Lillyvick prevented him by shaking his hand
    mournfully, and then waving his own.

    'Let me be shaved!' said Mr Lillyvick. 'It shall be done before
    Morleena; it IS Morleena, isn't it?'

    'Yes,' said Newman.

    'Kenwigses have got a boy, haven't they?' inquired the collector.

    Again Newman said 'Yes.'

    'Is it a nice boy?' demanded the collector.

    'It ain't a very nasty one,' returned Newman, rather embarrassed by
    the question.

    'Susan Kenwigs used to say,' observed the collector, 'that if ever
    she had another boy, she hoped it might be like me. Is this one
    like me, Mr Noggs?'

    This was a puzzling inquiry; but Newman evaded it, by replying to Mr
    Lillyvick, that he thought the baby might possibly come like him in
    time.

    'I should be glad to have somebody like me, somehow,' said Mr
    Lillyvick, 'before I die.'

    'You don't mean to do that, yet awhile?' said Newman.

    Unto which Mr Lillyvick replied in a solemn voice, 'Let me be
    shaved!' and again consigning himself to the hands of the
    journeyman, said no more.

    This was remarkable behaviour. So remarkable did it seem to Miss
    Morleena, that that young lady, at the imminent hazard of having her
    ear sliced off, had not been able to forbear looking round, some
    score of times, during the foregoing colloquy. Of her, however, Mr
    Lillyvick took no notice: rather striving (so, at least, it seemed
    to Newman Noggs) to evade her observation, and to shrink into
    himself whenever he attracted her regards. Newman wondered very
    much what could have occasioned this altered behaviour on the part
    of the collector; but, philosophically reflecting that he would most
    likely know, sooner or later, and that he could perfectly afford to
    wait, he was very little disturbed by the singularity of the old
    gentleman's deportment.

    The cutting and curling being at last concluded, the old gentleman,
    who had been some time waiting, rose to go, and, walking out with
    Newman and his charge, took Newman's arm, and proceeded for some
    time without making any observation. Newman, who in power of
    taciturnity was excelled by few people, made no attempt to break
    silence; and so they went on, until they had very nearly reached
    Miss Morleena's home, when Mr Lillyvick said:

    'Were the Kenwigses very much overpowered, Mr Noggs, by that news?'

    'What news?' returned Newman.

    'That about--my--being--'

    'Married?' suggested Newman.

    'Ah!' replied Mr Lillyvick, with another groan; this time not even
    disguised by a wheeze.

    'It made ma cry when she knew it,' interposed Miss Morleena, 'but we
    kept it from her for a long time; and pa was very low in his
    spirits, but he is better now; and I was very ill, but I am better
    too.'

    'Would you give your great-uncle Lillyvick a kiss if he was to ask
    you, Morleena?' said the collector, with some hesitation.

    'Yes; uncle Lillyvick, I would,' returned Miss Morleena, with the
    energy of both her parents combined; 'but not aunt Lillyvick. She's
    not an aunt of mine, and I'll never call her one.'

    Immediately upon the utterance of these words, Mr Lillyvick caught
    Miss Morleena up in his arms, and kissed her; and, being by this
    time at the door of the house where Mr Kenwigs lodged (which, as has
    been before mentioned, usually stood wide open), he walked straight
    up into Mr Kenwigs's sitting-room, and put Miss Morleena down in the
    midst. Mr and Mrs Kenwigs were at supper. At sight of their
    perjured relative, Mrs Kenwigs turned faint and pale, and Mr Kenwigs
    rose majestically.

    'Kenwigs,' said the collector, 'shake hands.'

    'Sir,' said Mr Kenwigs, 'the time has been, when I was proud to
    shake hands with such a man as that man as now surweys me. The time
    has been, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs, 'when a wisit from that man has
    excited in me and my family's boozums sensations both nateral and
    awakening. But, now, I look upon that man with emotions totally
    surpassing everythink, and I ask myself where is his Honour, where
    is his straight-for'ardness, and where is his human natur?'

    'Susan Kenwigs,' said Mr Lillyvick, turning humbly to his niece,
    'don't you say anything to me?'

    'She is not equal to it, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs, striking the table
    emphatically. 'What with the nursing of a healthy babby, and the
    reflections upon your cruel conduct, four pints of malt liquor a day
    is hardly able to sustain her.'

    'I am glad,' said the poor collector meekly, 'that the baby is a
    healthy one. I am very glad of that.'

    This was touching the Kenwigses on their tenderest point. Mrs
    Kenwigs instantly burst into tears, and Mr Kenwigs evinced great
    emotion.

    'My pleasantest feeling, all the time that child was expected,' said
    Mr Kenwigs, mournfully, 'was a thinking, "If it's a boy, as I hope
    it may be; for I have heard its uncle Lillyvick say again and again
    he would prefer our having a boy next, if it's a boy, what will his
    uncle Lillyvick say? What will he like him to be called? Will he be
    Peter, or Alexander, or Pompey, or Diorgeenes, or what will he be?"
    And now when I look at him; a precious, unconscious, helpless
    infant, with no use in his little arms but to tear his little cap,
    and no use in his little legs but to kick his little self--when I
    see him a lying on his mother's lap, cooing and cooing, and, in his
    innocent state, almost a choking hisself with his little fist--when
    I see him such a infant as he is, and think that that uncle
    Lillyvick, as was once a-going to be so fond of him, has withdrawed
    himself away, such a feeling of wengeance comes over me as no
    language can depicter, and I feel as if even that holy babe was a
    telling me to hate him.'

    This affecting picture moved Mrs Kenwigs deeply. After several
    imperfect words, which vainly attempted to struggle to the surface,
    but were drowned and washed away by the strong tide of her tears,
    she spake.

    'Uncle,' said Mrs Kenwigs, 'to think that you should have turned
    your back upon me and my dear children, and upon Kenwigs which is
    the author of their being--you who was once so kind and
    affectionate, and who, if anybody had told us such a thing of, we
    should have withered with scorn like lightning--you that little
    Lillyvick, our first and earliest boy, was named after at the very
    altar! Oh gracious!'

    'Was it money that we cared for?' said Mr Kenwigs. 'Was it property
    that we ever thought of?'

    'No,' cried Mrs Kenwigs, 'I scorn it.'

    'So do I,' said Mr Kenwigs, 'and always did.'

    'My feelings have been lancerated,' said Mrs Kenwigs, 'my heart has
    been torn asunder with anguish, I have been thrown back in my
    confinement, my unoffending infant has been rendered uncomfortable
    and fractious, Morleena has pined herself away to nothing; all this
    I forget and forgive, and with you, uncle, I never can quarrel. But
    never ask me to receive HER, never do it, uncle. For I will not, I
    will not, I won't, I won't, I won't!'

    'Susan, my dear,' said Mr Kenwigs, 'consider your child.'

    'Yes,' shrieked Mrs Kenwigs, 'I will consider my child! I will
    consider my child! My own child, that no uncles can deprive me of;
    my own hated, despised, deserted, cut-off little child.' And, here,
    the emotions of Mrs Kenwigs became so violent, that Mr Kenwigs was
    fain to administer hartshorn internally, and vinegar externally, and
    to destroy a staylace, four petticoat strings, and several small
    buttons.

    Newman had been a silent spectator of this scene; for Mr Lillyvick
    had signed to him not to withdraw, and Mr Kenwigs had further
    solicited his presence by a nod of invitation. When Mrs Kenwigs had
    been, in some degree, restored, and Newman, as a person possessed of
    some influence with her, had remonstrated and begged her to compose
    herself, Mr Lillyvick said in a faltering voice:

    'I never shall ask anybody here to receive my--I needn't mention the
    word; you know what I mean. Kenwigs and Susan, yesterday was a week
    she eloped with a half-pay captain!'

    Mr and Mrs Kenwigs started together.

    'Eloped with a half-pay captain,' repeated Mr Lillyvick, 'basely and
    falsely eloped with a half-pay captain. With a bottle-nosed captain
    that any man might have considered himself safe from. It was in
    this room,' said Mr Lillyvick, looking sternly round, 'that I first
    see Henrietta Petowker. It is in this room that I turn her off, for
    ever.'

    This declaration completely changed the whole posture of affairs.
    Mrs Kenwigs threw herself upon the old gentleman's neck, bitterly
    reproaching herself for her late harshness, and exclaiming, if she
    had suffered, what must his sufferings have been! Mr Kenwigs
    grasped his hand, and vowed eternal friendship and remorse. Mrs
    Kenwigs was horror-stricken to think that she should ever have
    nourished in her bosom such a snake, adder, viper, serpent, and base
    crocodile as Henrietta Petowker. Mr Kenwigs argued that she must
    have been bad indeed not to have improved by so long a contemplation
    of Mrs Kenwigs's virtue. Mrs Kenwigs remembered that Mr Kenwigs had
    often said that he was not quite satisfied of the propriety of Miss
    Petowker's conduct, and wondered how it was that she could have been
    blinded by such a wretch. Mr Kenwigs remembered that he had had his
    suspicions, but did not wonder why Mrs Kenwigs had not had hers, as
    she was all chastity, purity, and truth, and Henrietta all baseness,
    falsehood, and deceit. And Mr and Mrs Kenwigs both said, with
    strong feelings and tears of sympathy, that everything happened for
    the best; and conjured the good collector not to give way to
    unavailing grief, but to seek consolation in the society of those
    affectionate relations whose arms and hearts were ever open to him.

    'Out of affection and regard for you, Susan and Kenwigs,' said Mr
    Lillyvick, 'and not out of revenge and spite against her, for she is
    below it, I shall, tomorrow morning, settle upon your children, and
    make payable to the survivors of them when they come of age of
    marry, that money that I once meant to leave 'em in my will. The
    deed shall be executed tomorrow, and Mr Noggs shall be one of the
    witnesses. He hears me promise this, and he shall see it done.'

    Overpowered by this noble and generous offer, Mr Kenwigs, Mrs
    Kenwigs, and Miss Morleena Kenwigs, all began to sob together; and
    the noise of their sobbing, communicating itself to the next room,
    where the children lay a-bed, and causing them to cry too, Mr Kenwigs
    rushed wildly in, and bringing them out in his arms, by two and two,
    tumbled them down in their nightcaps and gowns at the feet of Mr
    Lillyvick, and called upon them to thank and bless him.

    'And now,' said Mr Lillyvick, when a heart-rending scene had ensued
    and the children were cleared away again, 'give me some supper.
    This took place twenty mile from town. I came up this morning, and
    have being lingering about all day, without being able to make up my
    mind to come and see you. I humoured her in everything, she had her
    own way, she did just as she pleased, and now she has done this.
    There was twelve teaspoons and twenty-four pound in sovereigns--I
    missed them first--it's a trial--I feel I shall never be able to
    knock a double knock again, when I go my rounds--don't say anything
    more about it, please--the spoons were worth--never mind--never
    mind!'

    With such muttered outpourings as these, the old gentleman shed a
    few tears; but, they got him into the elbow-chair, and prevailed
    upon him, without much pressing, to make a hearty supper, and by the
    time he had finished his first pipe, and disposed of half-a-dozen
    glasses out of a crown bowl of punch, ordered by Mr Kenwigs, in
    celebration of his return to the bosom of his family, he seemed,
    though still very humble, quite resigned to his fate, and rather
    relieved than otherwise by the flight of his wife.

    'When I see that man,' said Mr Kenwigs, with one hand round Mrs
    Kenwigs's waist: his other hand supporting his pipe (which made him
    wink and cough very much, for he was no smoker): and his eyes on
    Morleena, who sat upon her uncle's knee, 'when I see that man as
    mingling, once again, in the spear which he adorns, and see his
    affections deweloping themselves in legitimate sitiwations, I feel
    that his nature is as elewated and expanded, as his standing afore
    society as a public character is unimpeached, and the woices of my
    infant children purvided for in life, seem to whisper to me softly,
    "This is an ewent at which Evins itself looks down!"'
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