Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [4463]
Long as all this takes to tell, it was not more than a couple of minutes in passing. As the stranger was moving away, Nicholas caught his eye again, and, in the awkwardness of the moment, stammered out an apology.
'No offence. Oh no offence!' said the old man.
This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so exactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and there was such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas was emboldened to speak again.
'A great many opportunities here, sir,' he said, half smiling as he motioned towards the window.
'A great many people willing and anxious to be employed have seriously thought so very often, I dare say,' replied the old man. 'Poor fellows, poor fellows!'
He moved away as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas was about to speak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as if he were unwilling to cut him short. After a little of that hesitation which may be sometimes observed between two people in the street who have exchanged a nod, and are both uncertain whether they shall turn back and speak, or not, Nicholas found himself at the old man's side.
'You were about to speak, young gentleman; what were you going to say?'
'Merely that I almost hoped--I mean to say, thought--you had some object in consulting those advertisements,' said Nicholas.
'Ay, ay? what object now--what object?' returned the old man, looking slyly at Nicholas. 'Did you think I wanted a situation now--eh? Did you think I did?'
Nicholas shook his head.
'Ha! ha!' laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands and wrists as if he were washing them. 'A very natural thought, at all events, after seeing me gazing at those bills. I thought the same of you, at first; upon my word I did.'
'If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not have been far from the truth,' rejoined Nicholas.
'Eh?' cried the old man, surveying him from head to foot. 'What! Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young gentleman reduced to such a necessity! No no, no no.'
Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good-morning, turned upon his heel.
'Stay,' said the old man, beckoning him into a bye street, where they could converse with less interruption. 'What d'ye mean, eh?'
'Merely that your kind face and manner--both so unlike any I have ever seen--tempted me into an avowal, which, to any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should not have dreamt of making,' returned Nicholas.
'Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It IS a wilderness,' said the old man with much animation. 'It was a wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot. I have never forgotten it. Thank God!' and he raised his hat from his head, and looked very grave.
'What's the matter? What is it? How did it all come about?' said the old man, laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and walking him up the street. 'You're--Eh?' laying his finger on the sleeve of his black coat. 'Who's it for, eh?'
'My father,' replied Nicholas.
'Ah!' said the old gentleman quickly. 'Bad thing for a young man to lose his father. Widowed mother, perhaps?'
Nicholas sighed.
'Brothers and sisters too? Eh?'
'One sister,' rejoined Nicholas.
'Poor thing, poor thing! You are a scholar too, I dare say?' said the old man, looking wistfully into the face of the young one.
'I have been tolerably well educated,' said Nicholas.
'Fine thing,' said the old gentleman, 'education a great thing: a very great thing! I never had any. I admire it the more in others. A very fine thing. Yes, yes. Tell me more of your history. Let me hear it all. No impertinent curiosity--no, no, no.'
There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in which all this was said, and such a complete disregard of all conventional restraints and coldnesses, that Nicholas could not resist it. Among men who have any sound