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Nicholas Nickleby

by Charles Dickens

He seemed to wait for some reply, but Ralph giving him none, he continued:

'I am a most miserable and wretched outcast, nearly sixty years old, and as destitute and helpless as a child of six.'

'I am sixty years old, too,' replied Ralph, 'and am neither destitute nor helpless. Work. Don't make fine play-acting speeches about bread, but earn it.'

'How?' cried the other. 'Where? Show me the means. Will you give them to me--will you?'

'I did once,' replied Ralph, composedly; 'you scarcely need ask me whether I will again.'

'It's twenty years ago, or more,' said the man, in a suppressed voice, 'since you and I fell out. You remember that? I claimed a share in the profits of some business I brought to you, and, as I persisted, you arrested me for an old advance of ten pounds, odd shillings, including interest at fifty per cent, or so.'

'I remember something of it,' replied Ralph, carelessly. 'What then?'

'That didn't part us,' said the man. 'I made submission, being on the wrong side of the bolts and bars; and as you were not the made man then that you are now, you were glad enough to take back a clerk who wasn't over nice, and who knew something of the trade you drove.'

'You begged and prayed, and I consented,' returned Ralph. 'That was kind of me. Perhaps I did want you. I forget. I should think I did, or you would have begged in vain. You were useful; not too honest, not too delicate, not too nice of hand or heart; but useful.'

'Useful, indeed!' said the man. 'Come. You had pinched and ground me down for some years before that, but I had served you faithfully up to that time, in spite of all your dog's usage. Had I?'

Ralph made no reply.

'Had I?' said the man again.

'You had had your wages,' rejoined Ralph, 'and had done your work. We stood on equal ground so far, and could both cry quits.'

'Then, but not afterwards,' said the other.

'Not afterwards, certainly, nor even then, for (as you have just said) you owed me money, and do still,' replied Ralph.

'That's not all,' said the man, eagerly. 'That's not all. Mark that. I didn't forget that old sore, trust me. Partly in remembrance of that, and partly in the hope of making money someday by the scheme, I took advantage of my position about you, and possessed myself of a hold upon you, which you would give half of all you have to know, and never can know but through me. I left you--long after that time, remember--and, for some poor trickery that came within the law, but was nothing to what you money-makers daily practise just outside its bounds, was sent away a convict for seven years. I have returned what you see me. Now, Mr Nickleby,' said the man, with a strange mixture of humility and sense of power, 'what help and assistance will you give me; what bribe, to speak out plainly? My expectations are not monstrous, but I must live, and to live I must eat and drink. Money is on your side, and hunger and thirst on mine. You may drive an easy bargain.'

'Is that all?' said Ralph, still eyeing his companion with the same steady look, and moving nothing but his lips.

'It depends on you, Mr Nickleby, whether that's all or not,' was the rejoinder.

'Why then, harkye, Mr--, I don't know by what name I am to call you,' said Ralph.

'By my old one, if you like.

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  • Biography
  • Novels:
    • A Christmas Carol (48 pages)
    • A Tale of Two Cities (227 pages)
    • Barnaby Rudge (418 pages)
    • Bleak House (579 pages)
    • David Copperfield (578 pages)
    • Dombey and Son (591 pages)
    • Great Expectations (298 pages)
    • Hard Times (172 pages)
    • Little Dorrit (560 pages)
    • Nicholas Nickleby (546 pages)
    • Oliver Twist (267 pages)
    • Our Mutual Friend (541 pages)
    • Martin Chuzzlewit (556 pages)
    • The Mystery of Edwin Drood (159 pages)
    • The Old Curiosity Shop (361 pages)
    • The Pickwick Papers (520 pages)
  • Novellas, Short Stories  »
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