Nicholas Nickleby - The Original Classic Edition. Dickens Charles

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ sojourn at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up, rubbed his eyes and stared--not with the most composed countenance possible--at some motionless object which seemed to be stationed within a few yards in front of him.

       'Strange!' cried Nicholas; 'can this be some lingering creation of the visions that have scarcely left me! It cannot be real--and yet

       I--I am awake! Smike!'

       The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its knees at his feet. It was Smike indeed.

       91

       'Why do you kneel to me?' said Nicholas, hastily raising him.

       'To go with you--anywhere--everywhere--to the world's end--to the churchyard grave,' replied Smike, clinging to his hand. 'Let

       me, oh do let me. You are my home--my kind friend--take me with you, pray.'

       'I am a friend who can do little for you,' said Nicholas, kindly. 'How came you here?'

       He had followed him, it seemed; had never lost sight of him all the way; had watched while he slept, and when he halted for refreshment; and had feared to appear before, lest he should be sent back. He had not intended to appear now, but Nicholas had awakened more suddenly than he looked for, and he had had no time to conceal himself.

       'Poor fellow!' said Nicholas, 'your hard fate denies you any friend but one, and he is nearly as poor and helpless as yourself.'

       'May I--may I go with you?' asked Smike, timidly. 'I will be your faithful hard-working servant, I will, indeed. I want no clothes,'

       added the poor creature, drawing his rags together; 'these will do very well. I only want to be near you.'

       'And you shall,' cried Nicholas. 'And the world shall deal by you as it does by me, till one or both of us shall quit it for a better.

       Come!'

       With these words, he strapped his burden on his shoulders, and, taking his stick in one hand, extended the other to his delighted

       charge; and so they passed out of the old barn, together.

       CHAPTER 14

       Having the Misfortune to treat of none but Common People, is necessarily of a Mean and Vulgar Character

       In that quarter of London in which Golden Square is situated, there is a bygone, faded, tumble-down street, with two irregular rows of tall meagre houses, which seem to have stared each other out of countenance years ago. The very chimneys appear to have grown dismal and melancholy, from having had nothing better to look at than the chimneys over the way. Their tops are battered, and bro-ken, and blackened with smoke; and, here and there, some taller stack than the rest, inclining heavily to one side, and toppling over the roof, seems to meditate taking revenge for half a century's neglect, by crushing the inhabitants of the garrets beneath.

       The fowls who peck about the kennels, jerking their bodies hither and thither with a gait which none but town fowls are ever seen to adopt, and which any country cock or hen would be puzzled to understand, are perfectly in keeping with the crazy habitations of their owners. Dingy, ill-plumed, drowsy flutterers, sent, like many of the neighbouring children, to get a livelihood in the streets, they hop, from stone to stone, in forlorn search of some hidden eatable in the mud, and can scarcely raise a crow among them. The only one with anything approaching to a voice, is an aged bantam at the baker's; and even he is hoarse, in consequence of bad living in his last place.

       To judge from the size of the houses, they have been, at one time, tenanted by persons of better condition than their present oc-cupants; but they are now let off, by the week, in floors or rooms, and every door has almost as many plates or bell-handles as there are apartments within. The windows are, for the same reason, sufficiently diversified in appearance, being ornamented with every variety of common blind and curtain that can easily be imagined; while every doorway is blocked up, and rendered nearly impassable, by a motley collection of children and porter pots of all sizes, from the baby in arms and the half-pint pot, to the full-grown girl and half-gallon can.

       In the parlour of one of these houses, which was perhaps a thought dirtier than any of its neighbours; which exhibited more bell-handles, children, and porter pots, and caught in all its freshness the first gust of the thick black smoke that poured forth, night and day, from a large brewery hard by; hung a bill, announcing that there was yet one room to let within its walls, though on what story the vacant room could be--regard being had to the outward tokens of many lodgers which the whole front displayed, from the man-gle in the kitchen window to the flower-pots on the parapet--it would have been beyond the power of a calculating boy to discover.

       The common stairs of this mansion were bare and carpetless; but a curious visitor who had to climb his way to the top, might have

       92

       observed that there were not wanting indications of the progressive poverty of the inmates, although their rooms were shut. Thus, the first-floor lodgers, being flush of furniture, kept an old mahogany table--real mahogany--on the landing-place outside, which was only taken in, when occasion required. On the second story, the spare furniture dwindled down to a couple of old deal chairs, of which one, belonging to the back-room, was shorn of a leg, and bottomless. The story above, boasted no greater excess than

       a worm-eaten wash-tub; and the garret landing-place displayed no costlier articles than two crippled pitchers, and some broken blacking-bottles.

       It was on this garret landing-place that a hard-featured square-faced man, elderly and shabby, stopped to unlock the door of the front attic, into which, having surmounted the task of turning the rusty key in its still more rusty wards, he walked with the air of legal owner.

       This person wore a wig of short, coarse, red hair, which he took off with his hat, and hung upon a nail. Having adopted in its place a dirty cotton nightcap, and groped about in the dark till he found a remnant of candle, he knocked at the partition which divided the two garrets, and inquired, in a loud voice, whether Mr Noggs had a light.

       The sounds that came back were stifled by the lath and plaster, and it seemed moreover as though the speaker had uttered them from the interior of a mug or other drinking vessel; but they were in the voice of Newman, and conveyed a reply in the affirmative.

       'A nasty night, Mr Noggs!' said the man in the nightcap, stepping in to light his candle.

       'Does it rain?' asked Newman.

       'Does it?' replied the other pettishly. 'I am wet through.'

       'It doesn't take much to wet you and me through, Mr Crowl,' said Newman, laying his hand upon the lappel of his threadbare coat.

       'Well; and that makes it the more vexatious,' observed Mr Crowl, in the same pettish tone.

       Uttering a low querulous growl, the speaker, whose harsh countenance was the very epitome of selfishness, raked the scanty fire

       nearly out of the grate, and, emptying the glass which Noggs had pushed towards him, inquired where he kept his coals.

       Newman Noggs pointed to the bottom of a cupboard, and Mr Crowl, seizing the shovel, threw on half the stock: which Noggs very deliberately took off again, without saying a word.

       'You have not turned saving, at this time of day, I hope?' said Crowl.

       Newman pointed to the empty glass, as though it were a sufficient refutation of the charge, and briefly said that he was going down-

       СКАЧАТЬ