Mrs. Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her opportunity, came dexterously in, before Kate could reply. ‘Not to any stranger, ma’am,’ said the good lady; ‘but she has been a companion to me for some years. I am her mother, ma’am.’
‘Oh!’ said Mrs. Wititterly, ‘I apprehend you.’
‘I assure you, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, ‘that I very little thought, at one time, that it would be necessary for my daughter to go out into the world at all, for her poor dear papa was an independent gentleman, and would have been at this moment if he had but listened in time to my constant entreaties and—’
‘Dear mama,’ said Kate, in a low voice.
‘My dear Kate, if you will allow me to speak,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, ‘I shall take the liberty of explaining to this lady—’
‘I think it is almost unnecessary, mama.’
And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which Mrs. Nickleby intimated that she was going to say something which would clench the business at once, Kate maintained her point by an expressive look, and for once Mrs. Nickleby was stopped upon the very brink of an oration.
‘What are your accomplishments?’ asked Mrs. Wititterly, with her eyes shut.
Kate blushed as she mentioned her principal acquirements, and Mrs. Nickleby checked them all off, one by one, on her fingers; having calculated the number before she came out. Luckily the two calculations agreed, so Mrs Nickleby had no excuse for talking.
‘You are a good temper?’ asked Mrs. Wititterly, opening her eyes for an instant, and shutting them again.
‘I hope so,’ rejoined Kate.
‘And have a highly respectable reference for everything, have you?’
Kate replied that she had, and laid her uncle’s card upon the table.
‘Have the goodness to draw your chair a little nearer, and let me look at you,’ said Mrs. Wititterly; ‘I am so very nearsighted that I can’t quite discern your features.’
Kate complied, though not without some embarrassment, with this request, and Mrs. Wititterly took a languid survey of her countenance, which lasted some two or three minutes.
‘I like your appearance,’ said that lady, ringing a little bell. ‘Alphonse, request your master to come here.’
The page disappeared on this errand, and after a short interval, during which not a word was spoken on either side, opened the door for an important gentleman of about eight-and-thirty, of rather plebeian countenance, and with a very light head of hair, who leant over Mrs Wititterly for a little time, and conversed with her in whispers.
‘Oh!’ he said, turning round, ‘yes. This is a most important matter. Mrs Wititterly is of a very excitable nature; very delicate, very fragile; a hothouse plant, an exotic.’
‘Oh! Henry, my dear,’ interposed Mrs. Wititterly.
‘You are, my love, you know you are; one breath—’ said Mr. W., blowing an imaginary feather away. ‘Pho! you’re gone!’
The lady sighed.
‘Your soul is too large for your body,’ said Mr. Wititterly. ‘Your intellect wears you out; all the medical men say so; you know that there is not a physician who is not proud of being called in to you. What is their unanimous declaration? “My dear doctor,” said I to Sir Tumley Snuffim, in this very room, the very last time he came. “My dear doctor, what is my wife’s complaint? Tell me all. I can bear it. Is it nerves?” “My dear fellow,” he said, “be proud of that woman; make much of her; she is an ornament to the fashionable world, and to you. Her complaint is soul. It swells, expands, dilates—the blood fires, the pulse quickens, the excitement increases—Whew!”’ Here Mr. Wititterly, who, in the ardour of his description, had flourished his right hand to within something less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby’s bonnet, drew it hastily back again, and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had been done by some violent machinery.
‘You make me out worse than I am, Henry,’ said Mrs. Wititterly, with a faint smile.
‘I do not, Julia, I do not,’ said Mr. W. ‘The society in which you move—necessarily move, from your station, connection, and endowments—is one vortex and whirlpool of the most frightful excitement. Bless my heart and body, can I ever forget the night you danced with the baronet’s nephew at the election ball, at Exeter! It was tremendous.’
‘I always suffer for these triumphs afterwards,’ said Mrs. Wititterly.
‘And for that very reason,’ rejoined her husband, ‘you must have a companion, in whom there is great gentleness, great sweetness, excessive sympathy, and perfect repose.’
Here, both Mr. and Mrs. Wititterly, who had talked rather at the Nicklebys than to each other, left off speaking, and looked at their two hearers, with an expression of countenance which seemed to say, ‘What do you think of all this?’
‘Mrs. Wititterly,’ said her husband, addressing himself to Mrs. Nickleby, ‘is sought after and courted by glittering crowds and brilliant circles. She is excited by the opera, the drama, the fine arts, the—the—the—’
‘The nobility, my love,’ interposed Mrs. Wititterly.
‘The nobility, of course,’ said Mr. Wititterly. ‘And the military. She forms and expresses an immense variety of opinions on an immense variety of subjects. If some people in public life were acquainted with Mrs Wititterly’s real opinion of them, they would not hold their heads, perhaps, quite as high as they do.’
‘Hush, Henry,’ said the lady; ‘this is scarcely fair.’
‘I mention no names, Julia,’ replied Mr. Wititterly; ‘and nobody is injured. I merely mention the circumstance to show that you are no ordinary person, that there is a constant friction perpetually going on between your mind and your body; and that you must be soothed and tended. Now let me hear, dispassionately and calmly, what are this young lady’s qualifications for the office.’
In obedience to this request, the qualifications were all gone through again, with the addition of many interruptions and cross-questionings from Mr. Wititterly. It was finally arranged that inquiries should be made, and a decisive answer addressed to Miss Nickleby under cover of her uncle, within two days. These conditions agreed upon, the page showed them down as far as the staircase window; and the big footman, relieving guard at that point, piloted them in perfect safety to the street-door.
‘They are very distinguished people, evidently,’ said Mrs. Nickleby, as she took her daughter’s arm. ‘What a superior person Mrs. Wititterly is!’
‘Do you think so, mama?’ was all Kate’s reply.
‘Why, who can help thinking so, Kate, my love?’ rejoined her mother. ‘She is pale though, and looks much exhausted. I hope she may not be wearing herself out, but I am very much afraid.’
These considerations led the deep-sighted lady into a calculation of the probable duration of Mrs. Wititterly’s life, and the chances of the disconsolate widower bestowing his hand on her daughter. Before reaching home, she had freed Mrs. Wititterly’s soul from all bodily restraint; married Kate with great splendour at St George’s, Hanover Square; and only left undecided the minor question, whether a splendid French-polished mahogany bedstead should be erected for herself in the two-pair back of the house in Cadogan Place, or in the three-pair front: between which apartments she could not quite balance the advantages, and therefore adjusted the question at last, by determining to leave it to the decision of her son-in-law.
The inquiries were made. The answer—not to Kate’s very great joy—was favourable; and at the expiration of a week she betook herself, with all her movables and valuables, to Mrs. Wititterly’s mansion, where for the present we will leave her.
Chapter